#also i have no clue how to make coffee

[coffeeaddictandinsomniac]

since i've done the astral express (+ aventurine and ratio), i figured it was time to do the stellaron hunters now. so, here's how i think they would take their coffee.

Blade - doesn't care. he will drink it black. he will drink it with so much sugar in it that it will kill him (he will especially drink it then). he will drink it iced. he will drink it made with orange juice. he, however, will only drink it if it's been handed to him. he won't make it himself.

Kafka - two shots of espresso. just a dash of milk.

Silver Wolf - doesn't drink coffee because she doesn't like the taste, nor does she particularly like hot drinks. she drinks only energy drinks; her favourite is the watermelon monster.

Firefly - french vanilla. that is all.

Elio - out of a bowl.

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

[honeyednights]

:))

[found--family]

right on op

imagine cas annoys the empty so much again it spits him back out except...it spits him out into the wrong universe (and time) and that's how *our* cas ends up in the winchesters universe. and at first he doesn't realize it's not the right time or universe and he goes looking for dean and instead finds the Lebanon bunker closed off and eventually finds john + mary and he thinks it's his universe's past john and mary and he tells them he needs help to get back to his time (bc his grace is still too low). he tells them he's from the future and needs to get back to someone and he pulls out his wallet and shows them a picture of dean and they're like "whoa whoa we know that guy!!!!" and cas is like, "that's impossible. he hasn't been born yet." and they're like "no no he was here. he helped save our universe. he's from another universe and he came here from heaven because he's dead and there was this young guy with him, jack? and an older guy, robby or bobby or something...." and cas is just slowly losing his mind, all the color draining from his face because first of all what do you mean he's dead?!!! and then all the other universe stuff and then jack? and bobby??? and yea anyways they team up to help get cas to dean and along the way hmmm what if jack pops in again....only this time he's acting even weirder than before, because chuck / the god power are gaining more control / corrupting him more. and jack becomes the big bad, thwarting their attempts to get cas to dean, and wreaking havoc on their universe, so the winchesters squad help them save jack and then dean and cas can eventually get their proper reunion (which everyone in the winchesters squad is now nvested in, especially carlos, number one deangirl and destiel stan) oh and the whole time they also do not know dean is mary and john's AU kid because cas never gives a last name just keeps calling him dean. and so john also grows invested in seeing these two people get their happy ending and BOY would it be cathartic for dean to see a version of his father who is so happy to see dean happy with a man-shaped person<3

[cherubunie]

baby doll ~ sim jaehyun x reader

౨ৎ inspired by this request !! ♡ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 제이크 ] ☆ in which jake eats out his virgin girlfriend for the first time and ends up going batshit insane with obsession & possession

word count ; 2.7k

dom! jake x sub! reader . corruption kink , oral , lots of praise , very very slight degrading if u squint , fingering , neck kisses , hickeys , Jake is a little bit of a pervert , not proof read , this kinda sucks oh well

Jake and you have been together for four months , and the two of you have decided to take things slow.

he was so so patient with you- so kind and loving , never has he ever made you feel uncomfortable or forced to do anything. he wanted to go at your own pace, even if that meant he had to rub one out after a heated make out session in private once a while.

he was the sweetest boyfriend ever and he loves you so much..

so much he began to slip into insanity

you two have had conversations before, such as establishing a safe word and what kinds of things the two of you were kind of into

which led him to discover that you were in fact a virgin.

ever since you told him that small fact about yourself, he drove himself further into madness.

how on earth were you a virgin?

he thinks to himself on a regular basis. you're too fucking gorgeous.

the thought of having the perfect little girl who has never experienced having sex was phonenomal. he wanted to show you all the different ways he could make you feel good, which positions he could fold you into, he wanted to force perfect whines and moans out of your mouth as he fucked his cock deep inside you for the first time. he wanted to teach you how to suck him off- imagining your round eyes looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full of his length was too much for him to contemplate.

Jake knows its wrong, but when he's snooped through your room a couple times while you were in the shower. he imagined what your naked body looked like when it was wet, how the water droplets would travel inbetween your breasts and thighs- the picture made him unbelievably hard-, he then found himself discovering the awful cute panties that are folded neatly in your underwear drawer that have adorable matching bras. he also discovered a measly pink vibrator tucked away in a box of that underwear drawer, completely dead and his mind began to race.

have you came to the thought of him at all? do you imagine him fucking you as you use the pathetic little toy on your clit?

he couldn't seem to stop his dirty thoughts that began to cloud ever part of his being.

the thought of you wearing one of those adorable pieces of underwear underneath your clothes made him feel all sorts of things. and oh god whenever you would walk around your apartment with just a hoodie on made him wonder if you were wearing one of the cute lacy panties with a black bow stitched in the middle.

here you were, reaching up on your tippy toes to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

and that god damn hoodie of his that you're wearing began to ride up to show the curve of your ass, the lacy underwear peaking out from underneath.

Jake felt himself growing in his jeans just at the sight, you truly had no fucking clue what you were doing to him.

"come here baby" jakes voice traveled through the apartment. you pop your head out of the kitchen with the biggest smile on your face.

"coming, I was just getting water" you trot into the living room, setting down the glass of water onto the surface of the coffee table. you stand up and look at him, that cute smile on your face still prominent.

his hoodie falls around your mid thigh, the article of clothing completely swallowing your figure and he begins to wonder how you look underneath.

he would love your body regardless of its shape of course, but that doesn't stop the dirty thoughts that form in his skull. every fiber of his being is telling him to rip it off of you and stuff your face into the couch below him and fuck you raw- but he decides on the latter.

"come here doll, let me look at you" your feet patter on the hardwood floors as you walk over to your boyfriend, standing in between his spread legs. his hands find the outsides of your thighs , his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your exposed skin.

"you're so beautiful" his words make a deep blush coat your cheeks. his hands suddenly grip your legs, shifting your body so that you can sit on his lap facing him.

you gasp at his forwardness, but lean into his touch nontheless. your head leans down and your breath fans his face. Jake looks up at you through his eyelashes, admiring your beautiful face that's beet red at his gentle words.

you both lean in for a kiss, your chapstick smearing onto his lips as your mouths move together. your hands move to wrap around his neck, pushing your body into his front.

the kiss quickly began to escalate, your mind was fuzzy, your hands were frantic, and your pussy began to wetten.

his tongue intruded your lips, sliding against yours while his hands moved from your thighs up to your hips underneath the hoodie you were wearing.

his fingers played with the hem of your underwear, a quite whine leaving your throat- to which Jake happily swallowed. your hands moved up to his head, your fingers lacing in his thick locks in order to tug and pull on them.

now it was jakes turn to moan into your mouth, his fingers tightening on your hips as he began to grind his growing bulge into your core.

everything felt hot and overstimulating , your head began to hurt as you quickly pulled off of your boyfriend.

your lips were kiss swollen and your face was red. Jake looked up at you with concern, his hands instantly slipping out of the hoodie in order to cup your cheeks.

"what's wrong my love, are you okay?" you nodded your head trying to catch your breath. your eyes fly closed and your hands grip into his shoulders.

"we don't have to baby doll, lets put on a movie and cudd-"

"I- I want to.." your voice was small, tone laced with embarrassment. jakes eyes widen in shock and he tilts your head to look at him.

"we don't have to if you dont want to , im okay sweetheart I promise" he reassures you , as hes done for the millionth time since the two of you started dating. your eyes open and lock onto his.

"I want to, Jake... I really really do im just- nervous is all.. what if it hurts?" oh my god.

Jake feels his chest tighten and he bites back a smirk, his hands moving down to cup the slope of your waist. he wished you wouldn't have said that, because all he wants to do now is manipulate your body into any position he wishes while he takes away any and all sense of innocence you have in your body.

"how about this baby, I'll eat you out and finger you until you're ready for me, hmm?" jakes eyes darken slightly , you avert your eyes from his with an embarrassing huff.

"what it... what if i.. I dont know.." you stutter over your words, not wanting to finish the stupid sentence.

"big girl words, doll" you sigh again and cover your face with your hands, muttering into your palms

"what if I taste bad" your words are muffled, but Jake can hear them regardless. he takes his big hands and wraps them in his hold, forcing your hands away from your red face as he speaks to you.

"you will not taste bad , I swear... how on earth would you have a bad taste, you are the sweetest girl to ever walk this damn earth" his compliment makes you giggle.

there is absolutely no way you could taste bad and he knows it.

he's smelt your underwear before out of pure curiosity and has never been more obsessed with the idea of eating you out ever since.

before you could protest, hes picking you up into the air. your legs wrap around his waste and your arms tighten around his neck with a squeal.

"Jakeee" you drag out his name with a giggle as he walks over to your room. he sets you on the foot of the bed and you feel even more embarrassment at all your stuffed animals looking at you.

Jake stands inbetween your legs, his hands on your knees in order to keep them apart.

you lay on your back and reach above your head, turning around your stuffed rabbits that rest in front of your pillows before sitting up and facing him.

Jake has to stifle a laugh that threatens to bubble up passed his chest, but one makes it out anyways.

"dont laugh at me.. I dont want them watching" you are too fucking adorable, his heart swells in his chest at your words.

Jake leans downs, his body towering over yours as he brings you into another kiss, this time it's more heated; demanding as his mouth moves against yours rhythmically. your hands move to his back, arms wrapping around his shoulders. you feel his hands at the base of the hoodie. he breaks the kiss with a wet pop, he looks into your lust-filled eyes- a silent plea.

"can... can we keep it on..?" you ask him, and he instantly responds.

"of course baby, anything you want sweetheart" Jake brings one of his hands to press against the mattress behind you before he gently leans you back, your head falling onto the mattress gently.

you feel yourself growing wetter, your clit pulsating in your panties as he kisses you deeply once more. your hands move to his hair- tugging on it once more.

Jake bites your lower lip and you hiss, your hips grind up into the air in a desperate search for friction. he trails his kisses to your neck before sucking down on your skin, leaving the prettiest purple marks that have you arching your back while breathless whimpers drip off your tongue like honey.

Jake detaches from your neck and sinks down to his knees in front of the bed, his face coming down to your clothed pussy. he pushes the hoodie up around your stomach, baring your underwear to him. your face is hot and you worry about how you taste and look, attempting to control your breathing as you lay down on the mattress.

"shh baby, its okay, I got you" his words reassure your overthinking mind. he brings a cold finger up to your clothed clit and presses down, earning himselfa sharp inhale from the perfect woman above.

he rubs his digit in soft circles, coaxing your body to relax.

"j-jake.." you whine as he chuckles. after a moment of concentrated massaging to your clothed clit- he sees a prominent wet patch form on your underwear and he curses at the sight.

without thinking, he pulls your panties to the side and slips his fingers through your wet folds. your back arches and your eyes close at the feeling.

"so wet for me already?" he teases you. your mind is racing - as is your heart while he pulls his fingers away from your heat in order to pull your pretty panties down passed your ankles.

you sit up on your forearms as he places his hands on your knees in order to pull your legs apart.

and the sight of your dripping pussy makes him fall for you all over again. the unholy thoughts that run ramped in his mind are sick, the way he wants to split you in half and fuck you dumb overtakes his thoughts- but he calms them in an instant.

he brings his face closer to your heat so his breath fans your aching pussy. your arousal drips down your ass and onto the sheets before he brings his tongue out in order to lick a stripe up your pussy- making you shudder in your hold.

he does it again, and again, and again- making your breathing rapid and uneven

"so sweet.." he mumbles before wrapping his arms around your legs in order to pull you down onto his face- his lips automatically wrapping around your clit.

your mouth slacks open in a gasp followed by loud moans. his tongue works its magic against you- flicking and sucking around your sensitive bundle of nerves. your hands fist in the sheets, using them as leverage to keep you grounded.

Jake groans into your pussy as he feels your hole clench around nothing- so he brings his middle finger up to your cunt before sliding it inside your tight pussy.

you quite literally suck his finger inside you before clenching around him. Jake lets out a stream of curses into your wet pussy

"fuck.. so tight. such a perfect baby doll falling apart in my hands" you moan at his words, your hips rocking into his face.

the unfamiliar feeling of Jake eating you out makes body feel weak and your mind feel empty- stars beginning to form in the darkness behind your eyelids.

Jakes finger pumps inside your pussy, curling in desperate search for that sweetspot deep inside you- and when he finds it, your back arches even further off the bed as you squeal. he chuckles against you- sending vibrations through your entire body starting at your core.

"found it" you feel tears well up in your eyes, and Jake decides to scrape his teeth gently against your clit- making you hiss at the odd feeling.

"god you're so fucking beautiful, my perfect little angel" his finger repeatedly kisses your cherry-sweet spot, the pleasure overriding your senses as you grab his hair and grind into his face.

"j-jake please.." you have no idea why your begging, but the sound of you moan his name as you come undone in the palm of his hand makes jakes cock rock hard- straining against his jeans and he swears he could come just by eating you out.

his grip on your thigh tightens, his tongue concentrated on your puffy, swollen clit.

an unfamiliar feeling forms in the pit of your stomach, and you begin to feel hot and uncomfortable.

"j-jake i.. feel weird hmm, pl-plea-se" your moans pick up volume and your legs attempt to close around his head, but the grip he has on your thighs is strong and unmoving.

"doing such a good job for me sweet girl, wanna cum angel?" you shake your head frantically, the wave of your orgasm beginning to crash down on you.

"y-yes please" you answer, making Jake pout his lips into you.

"such a good girl, you can cum baby, I got you sweetheart im here" you fall into this hands as the coil in your tummy begins to unravel, your hands come to cover your eyes and your legs begin to shake.

your moans turn into high-pitched mewls and cries

"oh my god Jake!" one of your hands comes down to your side in order to reach for your boyfriend, and he just about breaks down.

you're reaching for him.

you want to hold his hand as eats you out, as you come all over him.

he unwraps his arm from your leg and instantly grips your hand in his, and that pushes you over the edge as your fluids squirt out of your pussy and all over his face- dripping down his chin to stain the sheets below.

Jake gawks at you, his mouth slack open and his eyes wide as you become a puddle

the realization of what just happened hits him;

you just fucking squirted for him.

"fuck- you're so perfect oh my god- such a good girl, pretty girl" as you begin to settle down, Jake pulls his fingers out of you and stands up before leaning down to face you.

he tucks a stray hair behind your ear as he kisses your forehead.

"you did such a good job for me baby doll, so pretty" he compliments.

"I-i was?" Jake nods his head and takes you into his arms.

"yes baby, the best"

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Up until the almost-end-of-the-world, the way Aziraphale and Crowley maintained their relationship was through a collection of well-established and repeated patterns (dances, you might say). These little rituals were what they used to communicate affection, intimacy and trust when they couldn’t say the things they wanted to say out loud. I like spending time with you. You make me happy, and I like making you happy. We’re in this together. I’ll always be there for you, even when your own side is not.

In season 1, as the stress of the impending apocalypse puts more and more pressure on their relationship, we see their patterns start to break down, and it’s very distressing for them. They’ve been communicating like this for so long that they don’t know what to do when one of them doesn’t follow the dance steps.

When we first see them in season 2, they seem in some ways to be closer than ever. They touch each other more easily, Aziraphale in particular. Crowley is comfortable enough in the bookshop that he has a Spot for putting his sunglasses when he takes them off by the door. They’re more open about acknowledging how much time they spend together and how many things in their lives are shared.

And I think, also, we expect them to be happy. They won, didn’t they? So it takes a while for the cracks to start to show.

It wasn’t until this post pointed out that the whole season, we never see them sit down and share a meal together in the present day (no, Crowley doesn’t eat; yes, it still counts) that it started coming together for me. The closer you look, the more you realize the old patterns they’re used to relying on are broken.

Three times, we see them sit down to their usual table for two (at the coffee shop, the bar, and the French restaurant) and then almost immediately get up again. This post also points out that we don’t see present-day Aziraphale eat anything on screen, other than one of the little candies in the Bentley. This in the same season we learn that Crowley is the one who introduced him to food! It’s one of their oldest rituals!

Even one of their most visually recognizable patterns starts to go wonky this season. In season 1, when the blocking allows it, Crowley’s always on Aziraphale’s left. When they’re standing or walking side by side, and most of the time when they’re sitting side by side together (there are some exceptions due to camera angles)…Crowley’s always on Aziraphale’s left (screen right if they’re facing us, screen left if we’re behind them). It’s one of the clues about the body swap that is easy to see when you know what to look for—in Berkeley Square they are each initially sitting on the “wrong” side of the bench. It’s so reliable that Aziraphale hears a little miracle bling in the sushi restaurant in s1 ep1 and turns to his left—because that’s where Crowley would appear—only to be startled by Gabriel on his right.

Go look at the scene where we find out Gabriel and Beez are a couple. You know the one.

And of course, many people have noted that in the end credits, we’d expect their positions on screen to be switched. They’re on the wrong sides. And it’s such a long shot that I think it has to be intentional.

Some people have speculated that this means they swapped bodies again. I don’t really buy that. Rather I think it is supposed to indicate what becomes extremely clear on a second viewing, that things are Off and Wrong. They are not okay.

And the more you watch them you see that Aziraphale’s excitement during his little adventures is manic and brittle, and that he misses having a place and a purpose and a mission to do good. And Crowley is depressed, unhealthily codependent, even more hypervigilant and cagey and angry than he was before. They both have layers and layers of trauma, and no way to talk about it. They have the time and freedom now to talk about what they want to be to each other, now that they don’t have to hide and encode and maintain plausible deniability. But they have no way to talk about that either, because that’s never been an option before. They don’t know how, and they are both so, so afraid.

And in the fights they have in episode 1 and episode 6, you realize they haven’t resolved anything from season 1. They’re having the same fight they had at the bandstand. Crowley wants to run, keep the two of them safe and damn the rest, and Aziraphale wants to stay and help, believing he can make a difference even in an imperfect system, and neither of them really understands the other’s position. It’s the same damn fight. They haven’t been able to move past this impasse, and it’s the exact thing that breaks them in the end.

And it’s just. Fuck. It’s such a human thing to have happened to them. To make it through the fire (metaphorical and literal) and then have everything go to shit afterward because of unaddressed traumas and insecurities and things left unsaid until they fester.

I know this is not at all how I expected the season to go, and I think it took a little while for me to parse what was going with their relationship, because we are predisposed to want them to be happy and to want things to be easy for them now. But it makes so much sense that this is where they ended up at this point in the story.

I know they’ll make it back to each other. They both love each other too much to give up. They’ll fight their way back together, and I know they’ll figure it out in the end.

But goddamn.

[alchemistc]

Tommy doesn't quite startle, when Evan reaches out for his hand, halfway down the block on their way to the little park tucked in behind a row of boutiques, but it takes him a moment to accept the touch, Evan's pinky sliding over the back of Tommy's hand as their shoulders bump together, the both of them a little too giddy to blame the coffee alone.

Evan makes an aborted movement like he's second guessing the attempt, and Tommy twitches his hand back just enough to snag his fingers.

At his side, Evan ducks his head, cheeks pinking, lips rubbing together, smile going wide and bright.

He feels overheated in his hoodie, but now their fingers are interlocking, and Evan is shifting his weight to adjust the angle of their arms, and Tommy can just deal with the warmth, actually.

His sister's wedding. They're both insane, Tommy decides, right then and there, and if this continues - if this continues, Tommy's just going to take his cues from Evan.

(I am all in, Tommy thinks, in Scott Patterson's voice, and then drops that thought like a hot fucking potato. He tables it, at least. For later.)

"I - uh - I told Eddie, about - well I told him." Evan grimaces, but he holds up their intertwined hands for a moment, a clear gesture about what, exactly, he'd told Eddie. Tommy wonders exactly how much he'd said. He wants to climb in behind his eyeballs and pick at his brain, which is so beyond the pale of weird and intense. Evan still thinks he's cool, somehow. That won't last. "I hope that was okay? I know you said you're out, but I guess he didn't know, so -."

Tommy squeezes the hand tucked into his. "That's fine, really. He'd have figured it out on his own, eventually. It's not like I hide it."

(Anymore.)

It's - that's a huge fucking leap from "I'm an ally" actually, less than a week out from shifting his eyes around the room and spouting nervous nonsense about picking up chicks. His sister, his best friend - Christ, he's really going for the speed run on accepting his sexuality.

The wedding, Tommy had discovered, down to the dregs of a truly middling cup of coffee he kept sipping at to try to hide his own nerves, was another three weeks away, but a month of lead time between his first kiss with a man and introducing that man to all of his family and friends as a date - yeah. Tommy wouldn't trust it for a minute if he hadn't spent weeks picking Christopher's brain for hints as to exactly what was up with Evan Buckley, if he hadn't already heard from Eddie exactly how quickly they'd jumped into their friendship.

Tommy's whirlwind thoughts stutter to a halt. "Wait. Did you know?"

Evan blushes, again, ripening the apples of his cheeks. "It's - okay so I didn't know, know, obviously, but - I mean - you were flirting pretty hard."

Tommy laughs. "Evan."

"You were!" He sounds a little incensed, like he's actually offended Tommy thinks he can't clock a flirt, and Tommy can't quite resist the urge to squeeze at his hand, again. "You aren't exactly the first guy who's ever flirted with me, Mr. Kinard." He says it prim and proper, chin raised, lips pursing after the pause, and Tommy is - shit, he's smitten. He also has no fucking clue how Evan never pieced together how hard he was flirting back. God, even Mr. Kinard has his stomach fluttering, a little.

"Just the first one who's ever reached out and slapped you in the face with it."

Evan's grin goes blindingly bright, eyes still a little squinted under the sunlight making the shots of red in his hair a little more obvious. "It was a very gentle slap. You could - you could slap a little harder, next time."

Jesus.

He's not even a hundred percent sure what the implication is there, but he can at least roll with the tamer one. He tugs, a bit, on their intertwined hands, just hard enough to knock their shoulders together again. He's a solid weight against Tommy's side, the bulk of him a little mind numbingly hot, in his bright white shirt and the dark wash jeans Tommy'd taken his time checking out when Evan went to toss their coffee cups. "You still owe me a beer, Buckley," he tells him, and Evan tilts his head up to check the angle of the sun, doesn't even bother to point out that Tommy'd barely let the check sit on the table long enough for Evan to pull out his wallet.

"I mean, it's a little early."

"Raincheck, again?"

Neither one of them has anywhere to be for the rest of the day. They'd both made that clear, when the coffee started to get low but the conversation didn't wind down, and Tommy - Christ, Tommy is more than willing to let himself get swept up in this, for the next few hours, for the day maybe, even. The weather is comfortable, and the company is adorable, and in response to Tommy releasing him from the pressure of being out too soon he'd sped off to his sister and his best friend for - for answers, most likely, for advice on how to turn things around. My sister says... he'd started, before Tommy'd had enough of wondering.

"Let's see where the day takes us," Evan says, another squeeze to Tommy's hand, and Tommy takes the weight when Evan checks his shoulder back.

-----

The day takes them twelve blocks up the road, Tommy pressed to his own kitchen counter, lips swollen and flushed when he finally parts for breath, Evan Buckley's dick pressed against his thigh as he whines at the loss. Tommy's hands are bunched up under the fabric of Evan's shirt, the wide expanse of skin beneath them sun-warm and smooth, and when Evan blinks back at him and digs his nose into Tommy's cheek, Tommy has the wild thought that he could do this forever - just this, rocking together in the shifting late afternoon light coming in from the gauzy white curtains over his kitchen sink.

They'd made the journey here under the pretense of grabbing a few waters, maybe making some late lunch, figuring it out from there, but when Tommy had bent over the low shelf in his fridge Evan had cut the distance between them, caged Tommy in and made good on his threat to show Tommy he could slap back, if he wanted.

They've been lazily making out for - long enough that the water bottles he'd scrambled to set aside are now sweating condensation. He'd lost his concept of time somewhere around the point Evan had grabbed for the back of his thigh and rocked against it for the first time.

"We should figure out something for dinner," Tommy announces, lips still close enough to Evan's still parted ones that he's speaking mostly into his mouth.

"Uh-huh."

"Evan," he intones, just a hint of admonishment, and Evan blinks, and gathers himself. He's - he's still got his thigh wedged between Tommy's, can clearly feel exactly how much they'd both gotten themselves worked up. Tommy's a little obsessed with exactly how unperturbed by this Evan is. Thirty some years without realizing he was attracted to men and now he's spent a good few minutes actually nipping at the cleft of Tommy's chin, purposely shifting his face against Tommy's stubble-roughened cheeks while he sucked at Tommy's earlobe.

"Somewhere with beer," Evan provides, decisive, and Tommy can feel exactly how wide his smile goes.

"I'm actually in the mood for wine, tonight," Tommy shoots back, and the moment shifts, mood slowing as Evan pulls back - just a little, just enough for each of them to take stock of exactly how disheveled they both are.

Evan's mouth is pink pink pink, his own stubble not quite enough to hide the beard-burn that had spread down his neck when Tommy found himself momentarily fascinated by the dip of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse when Tommy mouthed at the tendon of his neck. Besides the awkward bunching at the back, his shirt is all out of whack, one side of his collar flipped up, the neck shifted to one side, and Tommy vaguely remembers sliding his hand in there, at one point, swallowing the heavy groan that had elicited. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright and still a little wild. Tommy can't be any better.

"There - there is actually a little wine bar around here I've been meaning to try," Evan says, clearly trying to refocus, shifting his weight around in a familiar way that Tommy finds achingly endearing.

Tommy thumbs at Evan's bottom lip just to watch the way he has to fight not to be drawn back in.

"Let me change," Tommy says, hands shifting to Evan's hips to press him back, and away.

"You - you're fine. Like this."

Tommy's smile is soft, and he reaches out to smooth down Evan's collar. Evan's eyes seem to be stuck on the flash of skin behind the open button of his Henley, the knowledge of which he is absolutely going to use to his advantage.

"This isn't exactly date attire," Tommy impresses upon him, and Evan's brow goes adorably crinkly.

"Tommy, we've been on a date the entire day."

Tommy's mouth does something uncontrollable, the smile breaking containment on one side, then the other, and the hand still tucked next to Evan's collar shifts across his chest. Beneath his ribcage, Tommy's heart does something he absolutely refuses to acknowledge until he's had a moment alone to his thoughts.

"I didn't wear this to impress you," he admits, although he gets the feeling Evan absolutely had dressed to impress. "Sorta thought I was getting a very polite let down, this morning."

"So, this is, what, your sulking attire?"

"Certain I was gonna sulk, hmm?"

"I mean, I'd have been a little insulted if you didn't at least mope, a bit. Maybe a little wallowing."

"You caught me. This is my brooding sweatshirt."

It's absolutely stupid, how much it makes his heart race to see the grin blooming across his face. Tommy needs a moment.

He brushes at Evan's shoulder as he passes him, fighting the urge to press his lips to his cheek.

"I'll be right back. Bathroom's down the hall on the left, if you need it."

In his room, with the door shut behind him, Tommy takes a long, long moment to stare at his bed, silently trying to convince himself not to throw his whole body dramatically across it like some regency era heroine. The bathroom is right next to his room, and Tommy can hear Evan drifting down the hall towards it, at a pace that suggests he's taking the time to take in the artwork and picture frames hung on the walls. It makes something ache, in his chest, in his throat, and Tommy shakes his head on the way to his closet, getting tangled in his sweatshirt when he tries to tug both it and the Henley up over his head at the same time.

He's forgotten how clothes work. Maybe. Probably.

In his walk in, once he's figured out how to get everything off without blinding himself or taking out a light, he takes a moment to stare at himself in the mirror hung by the door. His hair is a fucking disaster. His face is - embarrassingly smiley, Jesus Christ.

There's a mouth shaped bruise forming at the bolt of his jaw, and Tommy should absolutely be embarrassed about that - he's a forty year old man who just spent a good hour necking in his kitchen.

Fingers trace the edges of it and he can't muster up anything less mortifying than smugness.

He manages to get his hair in some semblance of order - doesn't bother with product, for absolutely no reason at all (certainly not to tempt Evan into running his fingers through it some more) - and finds a collared shirt in a light, hazy blue that he knows brings out the slashes of green in his eyes.

He leaves the top three buttons undone and calls it good.

Evan's back in the kitchen by the time he makes it out of his room, snooping in Tommy's fridge, and he doesn't even have the grace to look apologetic about it when Tommy taps his fingers against the doorframe.

The fridge closes on its own, Evan's mouth dropped to an intriguing O shape.

"Uh - oh," Evan says, mouth actually snapping shut as he takes Tommy in, eyes dipping up, down, catching on the skin below his collarbone. He swallows. Fuck. "This - uh. Okay. Color me impressed."

"Yeah?"

"You know you look good," Evan whines.

He's done something to fix his own, hair, too. Tommy leans in the doorway, arms crossed, one foot tucked over the other, and actually takes the time to stare back. Tommy's hands had worn through the product - there's a little bit of a curl, in his hair, that Tommy would give a lot of his earthly possessions to see in its natural state. There's still some color in his cheeks, and it's spreading as Tommy checks him out. He's fixed the neck of his shirt, and against the stark white of it, his tattoos are drawing Tommy's eye. He wonders how many other ones he might uncover, one day. "You too," Tommy finally says, when Evan looks like he might vibrate right out of his skin at the attention. Evan beams, and spins the keys in his hand around on one finger.

"You ready?"

Absolutely fucking not, Tommy thinks to himself, but he nods, and lets Evan lead the way back out his front door.

[avocado-writing]

The idea of Wade as a used car salesman found a love of his life during his midlife crisis before he met Logan. They don’t have a clue that he’s Deadpool. They just fall in love with Wade the used car salesman Wade Wilson, even see him as a funny, harmless person till one day his partner showing a picture of Deadpool and goes “He looks hot, could we find some costume to wear next time we fuck, dear?”

Wade totally forgot that he’s retired from Deadpool cause he’s in his suit, ready to fuck the love of his life for eternity. 👀

Wade Wilson knew he was in love the first time you cried laughing over one of his stupid jokes.

You’re probably too good for him with your easy smile and kind heart, and he knows he’s punching above his weight when he asks you out - but somehow you end up saying yes. 

At the bar that night he keeps you laughing until there are tears in your eyes and then continues the show in bed. It’s so lovely to have you all giggly under him, pressed into the mattress as he makes you cum so hard all you can do is moan. 

You lie there, walking your fingers up and down his chest, molasses-slow as the streetlights outside your apartment silhouette you both in fluorescence. 

“I like you, Wade. You’re nice,” you sigh, in a way which suggests you don’t often meet nice people. Ah man, he fucking melts. He’s never letting you go. 

Your relationship is pretty easy. He never feels like he has to work to impress you or keep you onside, you like him for him. It’s a… refreshing feeling, from a world where Wade Wilson constantly feels like he’s too much. 

He catches the Deadpool keyring on your house keys one night after the two of you have grabbed pizza on the way home; spotting the telltale red and black while trying to keep a pile of boxes in place between his hands and his chin. 

“Oh, Deadpool fan?” he asks, trying to affect nonchalance. He sees you get a little flustered. 

“I mean… yeah? Back in his heyday I thought he was cute, kind’ve a shame he disappeared. Merc with a mouth, what’s not to love?” you pause for a second. “He reminds me of you actually.”

Wade laughs at that way too loud and way too hard.

“What? No. That’s crazy!”

You throw him a side-eye but don’t comment further. 

He lets it rest for a couple of days so as not to draw suspicion, but when you make yourself a cup of coffee and his own mask is staring back at him from the ceramic, he can’t hide his wandering eyes. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t realise they made those.” He didn’t get a cut. Should he have gotten a cut? Would have been nice if whoever had merchandised his face had asked him if he was cool with it.  

“Oh, look, everyone has a crush on at least one superhero, okay? It’s impossible not to. They’re everywhere and they’re hot!”

He lets himself digest this. You think Deadpool is a superhero? He didn’t get that much. Mostly he was referred to as “god’s curse to crimefighting”. But also you have a crush on him? Both of these facts are… interesting. 

“I… think Deadpool is hot, too,” Wade blurts out when he realises he’s been silent for ten uninterrupted seconds. 

“Oh,” you reply, settling down a little when it turns out he’s in agreement with you. “Well, cool! Glad we can agree.”

Phew. Got outta that one, then. 

He really doesn’t think any more of it, or tries not to, until a couple of weeks later when you bring it up in bed. 

“Wade, can I ask something kinda kinky?”

Cuddled in post-coital bliss, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, he pauses. 

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, sweet cheeks. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

“How do you feel about roleplay?”

He turns to you with a grin which threatens to split his face in half.

“Oh, you’ve been keeping that under your hat!” he laughs, “But, in answer to the question, very positive. What were you thinking? Cop and criminal? Nurse and patient? I’m down to play any of those roles by the way, I believe in equal gender opportunities in the bedroom.”

You chuckle, but when you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to work out how to phrase the next part of the question, he cottons on. 

“Oh my god. You want me to roleplay Deadpool, don’t you?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to! It’s just, you said you thought he was sexy… so I wondered…”

He puts a finger on your lips, stoppering the spill of panic from your lips. 

“Baby, I am so down to clown that you might as well call me Pennywise. Let me sort the details and I’ll give you the best night of in-character boning that’s ever been known to man.”

You look giddy at that promise. Truth be told, he’s kinda excited himself. 

Wade retrieves the suit the next day and feels a little weird putting it back on, covering his body again with red and black. When he’s done this in the past it’s in order to go and kill like, a lot of people, not to fulfil a fantasy. But hey - there’s a first time for everything. And it’ll make you so happy, too.

You scream when he taps on your window from his perch on your fire escape. Admittedly he should have told you he was coming, but he thought it could be a fun and sexy surprise. He was wrong. 

“WHAT THE FUCK—!”

Wade whips off the mask as you lunge for your kitchen knife set, hands up in a gesture of peace. 

“Baby! Babe, it’s just me!”

You go limp with relief, leaning against the counter to support yourself. 

“Holy shit! Wade, what the fuck do you think you’re…”

You trail off as you take in the picture of your boyfriend crawling in through the tiny window decked out in his suit. An eyebrow raises. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah! See, I told you I’d sort it.”

Anger and fear now completely ablated, you walk a slow circle around where he stands in your kitchen, appraising his look. 

“This is a high quality suit. Where did you get it?”

“Peter,” he says quickly. This isn’t a lie. He did get it from Peter… Peter’s locker anyway. You look confused. 

“Our coworker Peter?” When Wade nods you furrow your brow. “He… he hasn’t fucked in this suit, has he?”

“No!” says Wade with far too much force. Actually he can’t prove that. Now it’s an image he can’t shake from his mind. Not super conducive to the mood. 

He takes a knife from his belt, and your eyes go wide in a mixture of panic and arousal. 

“Oh my god…”

“It’s blunt! Well. It’s sharp enough for me to cut your underwear off, which I’ve been rocking a semi all day from imagining…”

From the smile which takes up your face, he knows he’s done right. 

Any way you ask him to fuck you, he does. Over your dresser. Against your wall. While running the dulled point of baby knife over the curve of your ass as he pistons his hips inside you, getting the mess of your cum all over the front of his suit. It’s filthy. It’s fantastic. 

But when you lay there cuddled up to his chest that night, Wade feels… conflicted. It isn’t that he’s lying to you, exactly, but it feels like he’s keeping a pretty fucking big secret. 

If you knew, would you still like him? Still want to be with him? Having a crush on a superhero is one thing, but being with one is entirely different. Ask any of the assorted Spider-Man and their various fucked up partners. It isn’t always pretty.

As if determined to take his mind away from this thought you nuzzle into his side, blissfully fucked out. He buries his lips into your hair. 

It never needs to be an issue. Deadpool is retired. He’s never gonna be used for non-kinky reasons again. 

…right?

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[novemberheart]

{overview} Simon makes an upsetting discovery

{warnings} fem reader, poly141, a/b/o dynamics, cursing, angry Simon, fighting

Chapter 13 <- Chapter 14 -> Chapter 15

You didn't see John the next day either. But the thumping and groans had stopped. You could only imagine how exhausted he must have been. Simon took you to his office with him. He could tell how antsy you were for a change of scenery. He didn't pay much attention to you but you entertained yourself by playing on your phone and making a card tower with a deck you had found. You had eaten a big lunch and Simon had dropped you back off at home. You were drifting in and out of sleep when the couch dipped right next to your head. No words were spoken and you were too comfortable to move your head.

A large hand rested against your back rubbing smooth circles. The smell of fog and campfire rolling over you.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. He shifted on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, and resting his head on the same pillow as yours. His arm went under you, tugging you so you were curled up against his side. He breathed you in, the stiffness in his body already loosening.

“I missed you too.” he sighed contently.

“I dunno. Sounded like you were having fun in there.” you teased. He chuckled, his head resting against yours.

“Sorry, you had to listen to that.”

“I didn't mind.” you said a little too quickly. “I- you know what I mean.” you corrected with a huff. John chuckled again.

“I know what you mean, pretty,” he assured. “How have you been healin’ up?” he questioned, his fingers skimming the area right above your knee. You had almost completely healed since your altercation. Perks of being an omega. There was still a bit of scabbing and redness on your left leg, but everything else had healed in the first three days.

“Good.” you hummed, lifting your leg to show him. “Which is good because now I can focus on getting you better.” you hummed, finally rolling over to face him. Your fingers itched to tangle themselves in his beard but you stopped. Instead, you rested a hand against his firm chest. He grabbed your leg, throwing it over his hips, making you flush. “You can't tell me you're not sore.” you finished, peering up at him with playful eyes.

“You got me there.” he smiled softly. His lips pressed against your forehead before he rested his cheek against the top of your head. The thought of your injuries made the memory of what Anais had said to you a few days ago:

“Well you won't be seeing much of Connoway. He was attacked, his whole face was scratched up and two broken legs.” Anais explained. Your blood ran cold.

“Scratched face?” you questioned.

“And broken legs.” Anais reminded. “Their beta is missing too. No clue where he is.” you swallowed thickly.

You didn't know if you should say anything. You weren't sure what good would come from withholding you knew, but you also weren't sure what harm it would cause either. Yet you were curious. Curious about what your alpha would say to explain his behavior. Curious as to what happened to that beta. Not that it was unjustified. Who knows what those assholes would've done to you if they had succeeded.

“You alright?” John drawled from next to you. You jumped- forgetting he was there. You hummed in assurance, settling on burying your face in his neck. You would be safe with them. That's all you need to know for now.

It was your fault. You had left the paperwork right on the kitchen counter for everyone to see. Simon had come to collect you for breakfast- a bit early admittedly. He could hear music playing from your room, so you must be getting ready for the day.

On the counter, you had left the paperwork the Omega Standards Bureau had wanted you to fill out. Would it really be Simon's fault if he peaked at it? He was on high alert, waiting for the moment your bedroom door would fling open. It took him a second to decode your writing. You didn't refer to them by their names but by their initials. Your try at anonymity he assumed. It was a nice gesture. You weren't waving their lives around. It wasn't till the second line did he get a sour taste in his mouth.

Who are your alpha/s?

The question was straightforward, just trying to get clarification on the pack dynamics. It was your answer.

J.P.

J.P. For John Price. No hint of S.R. anywhere. In fact he was hardly mentioned at all- only when they asked you to list every member of your pack.

He growled lowly, digging in his pocket for a cigarette to calm down. That was bullshit. He had spent the most time with you than anybody. Yes, most of the time he spent pushing your buttons but he had sincerely asked about you. How you ended up in an omega house. He asked about your family. He took you on walks- even in the rain because he knows how much you enjoy it. He could understand if your feelings weren't as strong for him as the others- he's guarded. But to not even be mentioned was a knife to the back.

He was just as much of your alpha as John was.

His growl must've alerted you. You slowly crept open the door, relaxing when you realized it was him.

“Smoking inside? It’s not the 1950s old man.” your smirk slowly fell when something seemed off. “You alright?” you asked a bit nervously. He tapped the counter where you had accidentally left your papers. You gasped quietly. “Those aren't for you, Simon.” you sputtered, quickly working to collect them. You raced back into your bedroom, reappearing just as quickly.

“Breakfast,” he grunted, putting his cigarette out. It didn't do anything to soothe his rattled nerves. It had been a long time since he had been so caught off guard. He thought you two were doing well. He thought he was doing well. Especially considering he was in a coma when they made the decision to add you to the pack.

You wracked your brain for a reason he would be upset. It had been a while since you had updated your paperwork- you think the night before your attack. A familiar uneasiness spread over you. You felt shaky and sick. The thought of someone close to you being unhappy at you twisting your stomach.

“Simon?” you began softly.

“Leave it,” he growled. “Breakfast,” he repeated. You couldn't eat even if you wanted to.

“I haven't updated it for a while. If there was something in there that”-

“Enough.” His tone was borderline vicious. “Your alpha is waiting for you in the cafeteria.” He spat the words like they burned him. They had.

You didn't want to go with him. Your instincts charging through you telling you this was not safe. He was not safe. You shook your head, taking a few cautious steps back towards your door.

He said your name as a warning.

“No.” you had no idea where the force had come from. “Whatever you saw I can explain. Why are you upset?” you demanded.

“Just put your bloody shoes on”-

“No,” you repeated. He snarled, turning on his heels and slamming the front door shut behind him. “Fuck.” you whimpered to yourself. You were shaking at this point, globs of tears spilling over your eyes. You went back into your room looking over your paperwork.

Who is your alpha/s?

J.P.

It clicked.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, flopping down on your bed. Truth be told you didn't really have an explanation for that- and you felt horrible. Simon had been an alpha to you. He protected you. He had taken care of you. He had taken an interest in you. You had opened up to your family about him. And you couldn't even bother to write his initials down.

The only explanation you had was the limited amount of time you had spent on the paperwork. You had given one-sentence answers for every question and hadn't taken it seriously. It never occurred to you that someone from your pack would read it.

“You alright, Bon?” you jumped as Johnny’s knuckles grazed against your doorframe. You wiped your tears quickly, but it was useless.

“No,” you mumbled pitifully. He came to immediately, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his lap. “I upset Simon,” you uttered.

“Peaches, I do that every day, twice a day”-

“No,” you interjected. “In the paperwork Kate gave me to fill out it asked who my alphas were and I just put John- and Simon saw that,” you explained. You sniffled, pressing yourself deeper into the Scot's chest. He was quiet for a moment. A long moment.

“Well I'm going to be honest, hen. I would be steamin’ too.” The honesty hurt. You pulled yourself away, but he quickly pulled you back. “He won't be steamin’ for long, though. He just needs a moment to himself and then he’ll be ready to talk.” Johnny explained. You had no choice but to trust the beta. He had seen Simon upset before, he knew how his mind worked.

“Wondering when you'd get back,” Johnny spoke, pushing Simon's bedroom door closed. He grunted in response, tugging his balaclava off and throwing it in his hamper. The scot made himself at home in his bed, taking up most of it. “Wanna talk about it?” he hummed.

“Nothin’ to talk about,” Simon replied coldly. Johnny sighed, sitting up.

“We both know that's no”-

“It doesn't matter, Johnny,” Simon cut off. “Now I'm relieved from having to put any more effort into that”-

“Simon,” Johnny warned.

“It's true,” Simon continued. “She just wants one alpha- one alpha she’ll get.”

“Simon you know that not how she fee”-

“It is.” Simon spat. “And that's fine with me. I mean what good is she doing anyways? We’ve had to change our schedule, our lives, our home to fit her, and for what? So we can heal a bit faster. She's not worth the trouble we’re puttin’ in.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Johnny snarled back, growing more and more defensive over you. Johnny moved from the bed heading towards the door, bumping into it when he realized he hadn't closed it all the way. He quickly heard your door shut.

His heart fell into his stomach.

You had heard that, didn't you?

Ohhhhh Simon! What are we going to do with you? Guess you’ll find out in three days for Chapter 15!!!!

Thank you for interacting with this post! 🧡

Dividers are by @cafekitsune

[p0orbaby]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

summary: you and alexia attend marriage counselling

warnings: suggestive

a/n: i have no clue what this is but i like it and i hope you do too !

word count: 1.4k

-

You’re sitting on a lumpy beige sofa, the kind that looks like it’s been stolen from an old woman’s sitting room. The armrests have stains that could either be coffee or something much more sinister. You don’t want to think about it too much. You also don’t want to think about the fact that you’re sitting next to your wife, who might be one or two millimeters closer to you than she’s been in the past week, but you’re not counting.

Alexia looks at the therapist like she’s evaluating her for a spot on the team. This is her default face—cool, calm, like she’s about to suggest subbing you out. You’re not sure how you feel about that. You’re also not sure how you feel about the therapist, who introduces herself as Dr. Bristow but who you immediately decide looks like a "Betsy."

Dr. Bristow, née Betsy, gives you both a gentle smile, the kind of smile people give puppies before they realise they’re about to chew through their expensive shoes. “So, why don’t we start with what brings you both here today?”

“I don’t know,” you say, crossing your arms because you’ve seen people do that in movies when they’re trying to look defensive. “Why don’t you ask Alexia?”

Alexia doesn’t even glance at you. “We haven’t had sex in a month”

You choke on absolutely nothing. The last time you checked, your sex life was no one else’s business, but apparently, Alexia’s decided that it’s Betsy’s now. Wonderful.

Betsy’s eyes widen, but her tone remains professional. “That must be difficult for both of you. Would either of you like to share why?”

Alexia shrugs, her muscles rippling under her tight shirt. You try not to notice, but you’ve always had a thing for her biceps—who wouldn’t? But now isn’t the time. You tell yourself this even as your mind decides to replay the last time those biceps were wrapped around you, gripping you like you’ll blow away with the smallest gust of wind.

She’s talking, and you force yourself to focus. “We’ve just been… busy”

You almost snort. Busy. That’s one way to put it. Busy with training, busy with travel, busy with being one of the best footballers in the world while you’re busy just trying to keep up. It’s not that you don’t understand, it’s just—God, it’s frustrating.

“Busy,” Betsy repeats, nodding slowly, as if she’s letting the word marinate. “That can definitely take a toll on intimacy. Have you both discussed how you feel about this?”

Alexia turns to look at you, and you suddenly feel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

You clear your throat. “We’ve talked about it. Sort of”

Alexia’s eyebrows raise. “You mean I’ve tried to talk about it, and you’ve changed the subject”

There it is. That thing she does. You know she’s right, but the way she says it makes you want to argue just for the sake of it. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe the problem is that you’d rather wrestle a rabid dog than talk about feelings.

Betsy’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. “It’s not uncommon for couples to struggle with communication. What happens when you do try to talk about it?”

You exhale slowly, trying to avoid looking at Alexia’s lips because that’s just distracting. “She’s always so… calm”

Betsy blinks. “And that’s… a problem?”

“Yeah,” you say, exasperated. “It’s like she’s a robot. No offense”

Alexia just shakes her head, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “None taken”

“I just want to see some emotion, you know?” you continue, warming up to the topic. “I’m over here, losing my mind, and she’s just… chilling. Like, I could tell her I’m moving to Antarctica to raise penguins, and she’d probably just ask if I packed a warm coat”

Alexia finally shifts her gaze to you again, her eyes softening, which is somehow worse because it makes your chest tighten. “You know I care. I just… I don’t always show it the way you want”

Betsy leans in, like she’s watching a particularly juicy soap opera. “And what about you, Alexia? How do you feel about the way your wife expresses her emotions?”

Alexia’s eyes meet yours, and there’s that spark again. You know the one. It’s the one that usually ends with you pinned against the wall or thrown onto the bed, Alexia’s mouth on yours, all lips and teeth and heat. The one that reminds you why you fell for her in the first place.

But then she says, “I love how passionate she is. But sometimes it feels like she’s on fire, and I’m just trying to keep from getting burned”

Ouch.

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not a fire hazard”

“No, but you’re combustible”

“That’s just because you’re too controlled!”

Alexia laughs, and it’s not the reaction you expect. She actually laughs, and you’re left wondering if you’re missing the joke. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To figure out how to meet in the middle?”

Betsy nods sagely, like she’s the Buddha of bad relationships. “Finding balance is key in any marriage. Have you both considered how you might do that?”

You both sit there, silent for a moment, probably considering how much easier it would be to just skip to the make-up sex and forget the rest. The thought must cross Alexia’s mind too because she gives you that look—the one that says, Let’s just go home.

You’re about to suggest it, too, but then Betsy has to open her mouth again. “Sexual intimacy is often a reflection of emotional intimacy. If you’re not connecting emotionally, it’s likely to impact your physical connection as well”

You want to groan, but instead, you offer a tight smile. “Thanks for that, Betsy”

Alexia stifles a grin, and for a moment, you feel like you’re on the same team again. You used to have so much fun together—where did that go? It wasn’t always football and fights. There were nights when you’d stay up until dawn, just talking, laughing, and occasionally getting tangled in the sheets, not caring about anything but each other. Maybe that’s what you miss the most—how easy it was back then, how effortless it felt.

“Remember that time in Cartagena?” Alexia suddenly says, as if she’s reading your mind. “When we got locked out of the hotel room after that party?”

You can’t help but laugh. “You mean when you tried to break in using a hairpin and almost got us arrested?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glinting with mischief. “But you tackled me before the security guard could, and we ended up in that broom cupboard”

You’re both grinning now, and it’s like a weight lifts off your shoulders. That night was a disaster, but it was your disaster, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You remember how you’d both been breathless with laughter, trying to keep quiet in that tiny cupboard, your bodies pressed together in the dark, and then… well, things got heated, and you’re pretty sure the broom cupboard got more action that night than most honeymoon suites.

Betsy’s watching this exchange with mild interest, but you’re too caught up in the memory to care. “Maybe that’s what we need,” you say, half-joking. “More broom cupboards”

Alexia leans back, her hand sliding casually onto your knee, and you almost jump at the contact. “Or less pressure”

“Or more spontaneity”

“Or,” Betsy interjects, her voice slightly louder, “a bit of both?”

You look at Alexia, and for the first time in weeks, you see the possibility of something other than just surviving this rut. Maybe you don’t need therapy. Maybe you just need a reminder of what made you fall for each other in the first place—a little more broom cupboard, a little less beige sofa.

Betsy’s droning on about communication exercises, and you’re nodding politely, but you’re already planning your escape. You catch Alexia’s eye, and you both know exactly where this is going.

You’re going to leave here, and you’re going to find the nearest cupboard, or alleyway, or even just the backseat of the car if it comes to that. Anywhere you can be alone together, no talking, no therapy, just you and her and that spark that never really went away.

As Betsy wraps up, you stand, practically dragging Alexia out of the office. You thank Betsy on the way out, but you’re already halfway out the door before the words even leave your mouth.

And as soon as you’re out of sight, you push Alexia against the wall, her mouth on yours before you can even think about it. Her hands are in your hair, on your waist, tugging you closer, and you realise that maybe you don’t need therapy, or a broom cupboard, or anything else.

Maybe all you need is her.

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 6

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Amren bashing, Azriel is an idiot, Eira has a well-deserved crying fit and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

"Do I want to know what your mother said to you?" Cassian asked him with a sigh the next morning. They were at the River House. 

Eira was still sleeping. Or again. Resting. Pure exhaustion apparent in every fibre of her being. She had stumbled up the stairs the night before, fell into her bed and hadn’t moved. Feyre and Nesta were both with her, had been with her since then... 

Azriel let out a small huff, and glanced at Cassian from his couch seat.

“No,” he said bluntly. “No, you really don’t want to know.”

"You're brooding," Cassian pointed out. Azriel snorted at his brother’s observation, crossing his arms.

“And you’re observant,” he said dryly. “Your point?”

Cassian huffed in amused annoyance and shoved him playfully. “Come on. Out with it,” he said, propping his feet on the coffee table, his wings shifting behind him. “You’ve been quiet and broody and grumpy all morning. You need to talk about it.”

"Talk about what? Talk about the fact that whatever Amren said to my mate was enough to push her head first into a panic so bad that she winnowed? Burned down half a forest accidentally?" Azriel asked, his voice forcedly even. "Or about the fact that I needed my mother to call me out on my bullshit because I am a fucking idiot ?"

"Language," Rhys said with a sigh, trying and failing to feed Nyx his porridge.

Cassian rolled his eyes in annoyance at Rhys’s words, while Azriel gave his high lord a flat look.

“Are you seriously going to get on me for my language?” he asked Rhys dryly. “Out of everything I just said?

"I do not need a fight with Feyre, because our son starts repeating your curse words," Rhys muttered.

Cassian snorted at that, and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, shaking his head.

Somehow, even right now, when everything was such a mess, Rhys still managed to find ways to be a caring father.

“Can we focus on something more important?” Azriel said, his voice a grumble. “Like the fact that I’m failing as a mate?”

Cassian’s snort turned into a choke at Azriel’s comment, his eyes going wide. “Failing as a mate? You? You’re kidding, right?”

Azriel scowled at Cassian’s shocked response.

“And how exactly is it possible that I’m not failing?” he demanded, his hands clenching into fists. “Because I can think of many, many ways, Cass.”

“What exactly have you done that qualifies as failure?” Cassian countered, shifting position so that he mirrored Azriel’s pose. “Because I’m really drawing a blank.”

"I fancied myself in love with her twin sister and pretty much used Eira as nothing but a source of information about Elain. Then, when I realised that Eira was my mate, I asked for permission to court her and within that conversation somehow found it prudent to say that Elain was the pretty one but Eira was the kind one and would protect our children fiercely. Then I gave her a harp as a courting gift, while she needed to sell her old one to keep her family from starving and nobody ever even thought about the fact that maybe that would bring up some bad memories. Then instead of asking what she wanted to do, I decided on the symphony, where I spent 3 hours sitting next to her in silence because all I could concentrate on was the fact that she held my hand . I have no fucking clue if sewing and baking and cooking are actually her hobbies or just the chores she liked best and I don't even know her favourite colour. Tell me how I am not failing, Cassian!"

Cassian opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly at a loss for words.

Azriel let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

He knew he had screwed up. That he had failed miserably in so many ways. But saying the words aloud…hearing them said out loud…somehow just made it even more real.

He slumped down in his seat, burying his head in his hands.

“You…you really are an idiot, Az…” Cassian finally managed to say, his voice quiet as he spoke. 

Azriel knew that. 

"I told Nesta that everybody hates her," Cassian admitted quietly. "I didn't tell her that I loved her until after our fucking mating ceremony. I have no clue what her favourite colour is either, now that I am thinking about it."

When Cassian told him that, Azriel’s eyes flew open and he looked up at his brother, his jaw slackening.

“You what?” he demanded, not quite believing what he’d just heard.

"Not my best moments," Cassian admitted drily.

Azriel let out a choked snort at his brother’s reply, and he buried his head in his hands again.

“And you said I’m the idiot?” he asked faintly.

“We’re both idiots,” Cassian said matter-of-factly, flopping back against the couch cushions. “Maybe all males are idiots.”

"I didn't tell Feyre about the dangers the pregnancy put her in," Rhys said quietly. "I didn't tell her we were mates at first either. I am sure there are dozens of other things I did, where I failed as a mate."

Azriel sighed, and he let his hand drop to his lap, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re really not helping,” he said, his voice quiet. “I shouldn’t feel better about being a failure as a mate because my brothers are failures too.“

Cassian snickered at Azriel’s response, but Rhys let out a huff and gave him an amused smile.

“I’m just saying,” he began, his eyes soft. “You’re far from the only person to have ever messed up with a mate, Azriel. Hell, the list of things I did wrong with Feyre is longer than your arm.”

Azriel closed his eyes again, letting out a sigh as he rested his head back against the couch cushions.

He knew that Rhys was right. Knew that all the males around him were speaking the truth. He wasn’t the only one to have messed up with a mate.

But somehow, knowing that didn’t make the knowledge that he had failed feel any less raw. Any less painful.

“I don’t want to fail,” Azriel said quietly. “I don’t want to put her through…this pain. But I feel like that’s all I’m doing. All I did was let my own emotions and wants and desires drown out what Eira really needed“

"Then maybe you should ask Eira what Eira actually wants," Cassian said with a snort.

...And he was already back to making the exact same error as before, wasn't he? That should have been his first thought.

Azriel closed his eyes again, letting out another weary sigh.

“How?” he mumbled. “How do I go to her and say ‘Hey, I realize that I did everything wrong so far. And I failed you and I’m an idiot, so how about you and I can start everything over from the beginning?’”

A hand, strong and heavy, descended on the top of his head and ruffled his hair.

“By doing it,” Rhys said firmly, a hint of a smile on his face. “By looking her straight in the eye and telling her what you just admitted to us. She deserves the honesty.“

“And when she says ‘no’? When she says she wants nothing to do with a failure and idiot of a male like me?” Azriel asked bitterly. “What then?”

"She won't," Rhys said calmly. "She won't, Azriel. She has been in love with you for years."

Azriel let out a sharp huff at Rhys’s statement. “Even more reason not to take me back,” he grumbled in response. “She’s loved me for that long and that’s all I come up with? Silence and stupidity? If I were her, I would reject me too."

"Just talk to her," Cassian said with a sigh. "We have enough other problems to deal with that aren't your brooding, Az."

There were so many other things to deal with. So many other things more important than his brooding.

Maybe there weren't many other things that were more important than his relationship with Eira, but still…

“Fine,” he mumbled at last, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll talk to her.” 

He needed to talk to her. Once she was awake. In the meantime… "What did you do to Amren?" he asked Rhys, who looked up startled.

“We had words,” Rhys said clippedly. “I suggested that she'll stay with Varian in the Summer Court for a few weeks. She’ll be welcome in Velaris when she can apologise to Eira and actually mean it.” Rhys’ voice was icy when he said that. “And I am due to have another conversation with Morrigan because I am not letting her get away with it either. Which reminds me, Cassian, you also owe Eira an apology,” Rhys pointed out evenly.

Cassian grimaced. “I know,” he admitted with a sigh. “I just really doubt that she wants to hear it,” he admitted quietly. 

Rhys sighed. "Which brings me to our next problem: I didn't want to push it...but we need to get Eira to train."

Azriel inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Of course, they would need to talk about that. Part of him was even surprised that Rhys had waited that long to bring up training.

"She needs control," Rhys continued, holding up a hand. "I am not talking about training her to kill anybody. I am talking about her learning to control her...lightning. And maybe some self-defence if she is up to that."

Azriel nodded in agreement. As much as he hated the thought of any sort of violence being aimed toward Eira — hated the mere idea of seeing her get hurt again — he knew that Rhys was right.

She needed to know how to control herself. To protect herself. She needed to know how to fight.

Azriel nodded again, raking a trembling hand back through his hair.

A part of him felt like he was betraying Eira by agreeing to this. Like he was failing her again. But another part, the part of him that was a warrior, that knew how to fight, that knew the dangers that came with not being able to defend yourself…that part of him agreed with Rhys.

"I'll be the bad guy," Rhys said with a sigh. "I'll be the one asking her. I hope I'll get away without outright ordering her."

Azriel let a small huff at Rhys’s comment.

He knew that if anyone had a chance at convincing Eira to train, it would be Rhys. But that didn’t help the pang of guilt at the thought of his mate receiving further training — being forced into training to begin with.

“And this arrived yesterday,” Rhys said with a sigh as he dropped an envelope in front of them. 

Azriel’s mouth flattened as he looked down at the envelope, his heart dropping at the sight of the Day Court symbol.

Cassian let out an identical, weary sigh as they also caught sight of the symbol.

Everyone in the room knew what that invitation meant.

"Feyre and I are required to attend," Rhys said quietly. "If Nesta won't go...there will be talk. Maybe less talk if Eira doesn't attend, but there will be talk about strive between the sisters, regardless of what information we feed them."

Azriel had to grit his teeth to hold back from letting out a snarl.

He knew Rhys was right. Knew that there would be talk no matter what.

But the thought of Eira being forced to attend that wedding...forced to endure Elain’s presence… He clenched his fist and took in a deep breath through his nose.

He was not going to like this. “If Eira goes, I go,” he spat out. 

Rhys’s mouth flattened for a moment, and Azriel braced himself for a fight.

Instead, his brother just gave him a short nod. “I expected nothing less, brother,” he said quietly.

****

Eira had slept. The first restful night in quite a while.

She still felt exhausted. Still felt like the world around her was...blurry. But it didn’t feel like all her energy had been sapped from her body, forcing her into unconsciousness.

It was an improvement.

"How are you feeling?" Feyre asked her softly. Nesta and she were curled around Eira in her bed...reminding her of their days in that bed in that cottage. Just one thing was lacking: Elain.

“I’m...better than I was last night,” she mumbled truthfully, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “…Still tired though.”

"You winnowed without training. That should probably be expected," Nesta said drily. 

"You also nearly put Amren on fire with your lightning," Feyre said with a grimace, and Eira flinched.

"She had that coming," Nesta growled. "What did she tell you? Were you a waste of life as well?" Eira flinched again, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself.

She didn’t want to talk about Amren. Didn’t want to talk about anything that had happened. Didn’t want to think about anything that had happened.

She just wanted to…sleep. She wanted to forget. Let her eyelids close. Drift away. Not feel so goddamn tired…

"She told her that not training her powers was a waste," Feyre said quietly. "That Eira owed it to me because I hunted and apparently kept her alive . It was absolutely out of line and ridiculous."

A fresh wave of heat rushed to Eira’s cheeks as Feyre explained what had happened, and a pang of shame went to her stomach. 

Because Amren was right. She did owe it to Feyre. That, and so much more. Feyre had cared for her. Hunted for her. Protected her. And what had Eira done in return? Nothing. Nothing but fail.

“You know-“ she began to ask, her words cutting awkwardly off as she felt a pang of guilt stabbed her chest.

“Yeah, I know what she said to you,” Feyre replied, her eyes soft. “Rhys got the whole thing out of her…He had a few things to say…I had a few choice words to say to her myself.”

Eira’s heart dropped into her stomach. She should’ve known that Rhys would have found out. He seemed to find out everything sooner or later. She winced, suddenly feeling even more guilty.

"I am sorry," Eira whispered. "I didn't want...I'll...I'll train. I'll learn how to control it. I'll..." She would hate every minute but if it made it easier for Feyre, she would...

“No,” Feyre told her softly, but firmly. “You will not be doing anything to make my life easier, Eira. You owe me nothing. Do you understand me?”

She wrapped her arms around Eira tightly and rested her head against Eira’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do anything. For me. For anyone. Understand?” she murmured softly. 

"Training would be a good idea, but you don't need to do that for me," Feyre whispered. "Do it for yourself, Eira."

Eira’s throat tightened, and she swallowed thickly.

She didn’t want to do any sort of training. She didn’t want to do anything in that moment.

She just wanted to lie in bed. Forget about the world. And yet…she knew that training would be a smart idea. That she did need to learn how to control her...lightning. And she didn’t want a repeat of last night. With great reluctance, she swallowed again. “I…alright,” she mumbled. “I’ll…I’ll train. And learn how to control…my…lightning.“

She hated the words as soon as they escaped her mouth, but she didn’t take them back. She knew it was the right thing to do…even if she didn’t like it.

"I know you're not looking forward to it," Feyre said drily, and Eira smiled despite herself. A tiny, reluctant smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Who's…going to…" she began, before trailing off. “Who's going to be training me?”

"Not Amren," Nesta snapped immediately.

The words were like a weight being lifted from Eira’s chest. She was relieved more than she cared to admit that Amren wouldn’t be the one training her…and then guilt immediately set in. She shouldn’t feel so relieved. So happy. Amren had done nothing but be harsh but the truth to her, and yet…she still couldn’t stop herself from being happy that the female wouldn’t be training her.

“…That, we know already,” Feyre deadpanned as she shot her sister a fond smile. “But you’re right. Nobody is thinking about having Amren train Eira. It’ll probably be Rhys if you are comfortable with that.”

She took a deep breath.

Rhys.

Rhys was…good. She could deal with Rhsy training her. Out of all the options…he was good. It could be worse, she tried to tell herself.

“Doesn't he have...anything more important to do?” Eira asked hesitantly.

She knew that Rhys was the High Lord and…surely he didn’t have time to deal with her. Surely, he had more important things to deal with than training some…somebody like her. 

She was…waste of time, and she didn’t want to be any more of a burden on him than she already was.

“He’ll figure it out,” Feyre replied, giving her a soft smile. “He’ll make time, Eira. He’s good like that.”

Nesta made an annoyed sound, making Feyre roll her eyes.

Eira swallowed again, the words not really doing anything to reassure her that she wasn’t wasting Rhys’s time.

Rhys was important. The High Lord. He shouldn’t have to waste his time with her . She knew that she couldn’t say those things. Couldn’t make Feyre or Nesta realize how ridiculous this whole thing was…how insane it was to have the High Lord of the Night Court as her teacher .

“It’ll be fine,” Feyre repeated, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Now...how was...your meeting with Azriel's mother yesterday?" Feyre asked. "I need to admit, I didn't even know that his mother was still....alive," she admitted with a grimace.

"He mentions her...very rarely," Nesta disagreed quietly. "She's a seamstress though...She made him a jacket he wore for solstice once."

Eira hadn't known that…but then she also hadn’t known that his mother was still alive. He had never mentioned her to Eira at all. And Esmeray…Esmeray was the last thing Eira wanted to talk about. Eira didn't want to walk about...about what she had said.

"She…was nice. Sweet, like Azriel," Eira answered quietly, swallowing. "She was...maternal. Not like our mother was." It was true. She was sweet…kind…lovely. 

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance. "But?" Feyre prompted her quietly. "Did she say....anything?"

Eira didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes. “Talk to us,” Nesta said softly. “What did she say, Eira?” 

"She figured out who I was after I told her my first name...and then she said that Azriel is fond of me but he is fonder of Elain..and that it's too bad that she is mated to another," Eira blurted out, her voice shaky. "He didn't tell her...He didn't tell her that our…that the mating bond had snapped." She could feel the tears burn in her eyes.

"Oh, Eira," Feyre breathed, sounding heartbroken for her.

"I am going to fucking kill him," Nesta muttered.

“Get in line,” Feyre grumbled, and Eira could just feel the scowl her friend was shooting at Azriel in her head.

She swallowed again, feeling the guilt and the shame and the hurt and the….everything, rising up in her chest.

She didn’t want to be upset at this. Didn’t want to feel like…like she had a claim over Azriel, but she couldn’t help the painful pang in her chest at the words Esmeray had said.

Too bad that Elain is mated to another… 

He is fonder of Elain… 

Those words, they just hurt. They burned. And she felt so...helpless.

And the thought that he hadn’t told his mother about their mating bond…it just made the pain even worse.

"Azriel...he said…when he asked me to court…he said that Elain was the pretty one but I was the kind one," Eira choked out. "He wanted her. I am just...I am just a consolation prize to him, aren't I?"

For a moment it was silent. 

"First of all," Feyre said firmly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You are not a consolation prize. Don't ever let me hear you say that again, alright? You are not a consolation prize, you are a treasure ."

"Second," she continued, her voice growing cold. "He is an idiot. Who the hell tells you that? Why would he say that?"

Eira shrugged, feeling her eyes burn.

She didn't know. She didn't understand why he would say that. Why he had said any of what he had said? 

But she knew that...part of her, part of her hoped that he had meant it in an endearing way. That he had called her kind because he liked that about her.

"I thought...I thought just having him could be enough," she whispered. "But how am I supposed to live my whole life knowing that he would be happier if he was mated to Elain? To be compared to her day, after day, and found lacking?"

"For Fuck's sake, Eira!" Nesta snapped.

"He only wants me because of the bond. And maybe because of the vision he saw...he wants the babies we would have together, but he doesn't want me," she choked out. "Every other female would suffice as well."

"Stop that. You know that's not true," Feyre said firmly, wrapping an arm around Eira's shoulders again. "He cares about you; I've seen it for myself."

Eira choked on a bitter laugh. "What does it matter," she whimpered. "He might care...but Elain is still what he wants. Nothing will change that...not even the Mating Bond."

"Azriel...he's an idiot," Nesra agreed angrily. "A complete idiot who can't see that you...you're right in front of him. Yeah, Elain may be the most beautiful out of us all, but she’s clearly bone deep ugly, if she…she tried to keep your babies from you?” Nesta asked and Eira just nodded, tears pouring out of her eyes. 

“A girl,” she choked out. “A girl. Azriel’s wings but my hair. We looked so happy in that stupid vision. And I was pregnant again.” 

Feyre’s mouth fell open as she stared at Eira in shock, while Nesta’s eyes hardened furiously. “She...really…” Feyre’s voice trailed off, sounding heartbroken.

Nesta let out a loud, furious snarl. “She’s a monster . Elain is a monster ,” she spat, her hands forming into fists. 

“She…she tried to keep my babies from me,” Eira repeated, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Azriel and I…looking happy…and...and now...I..."

She had to pause, the tears making it impossible for her to continue.

Both Feyre and Nesta wrapped their arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“It’s not fair,” she choked out. “It’s not fair. I saw us. I saw how happy we were…”

It was as clear as day in her memory. That vision of them in that garden, of Azriel kissing her, of the little girl being hoisted up in the air by him…

Eira had looked so happy. Everything had been so perfect, so right…it had almost made her dizzy. It had been everything she had ever wanted. 

Only to have it ripped away. To know that she’d had a chance at happiness, a chance at…of a family, of everything that she had always wanted…only to have it ripped away so cruelly…

It hurt. It hurt more than anything she’d ever felt in her entire life.

"It's not fair," she mumbled hopelessly, burying her face against Feyre's shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's not fair...He wouldn’t have even cared…he wouldn’t have even…looked in my direction…if the bond hadn’t snapped…he wouldn’t even have looked at me…”

Don't cry, the shadows whispered, coming to wrap around her hands. Don't cry. Master was an utter fool. Blinded by a pretty face. But he does care about you. 

She let out a sob, feeling more of the shadows slide up her arms to wrap around her.

She didn’t know that. Azriel cared…but it didn’t change how he felt about Elain. It didn’t change that he didn’t care for her, for Eira. He only…he only wanted her because of the bond.

He only felt responsible for her because they were mates. All the...feelings...he had towards her...were all just because of the bond.

The shadows only continued to coil around her as she wept silently into Feyre’s shoulder, her heart aching.

She had known from the beginning that Azriel didn’t care for her beyond the bond.

But...until she had heard what Esmeray had said, and learned that he hadn’t told her the truth, she’d still had some tiny part of hope. Some small, stupid part of her that had clung to the hope that maybe, maybe, he would start to feel for her the same way that she felt for him.

"I loved him from the moment I saw him. I looked at him and it was...it was like coming home," she choked out.

“Of course you did,” Feyre said softly, gently stroking her hair as the tears continued to fall. “Of course you did…”

Nesta said nothing, the only sound that escaped her was a low, furious huff.

"I am really going to kill him," she hissed.

“Save some for me,” Feyre grumbled as she held Eira fiercely, her free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

His Mother had words for Master, the shadows said quietly, coiling themselves into her hair. He's brooding. 

“Good,” Nesta said firmly. “I hope he’s miserable.”

“Nes,” Feyre said quietly, giving her sister a gentle nudge.

“What?!” Nesta said, scowling. “Seriously, he deserves it.”

Eira couldn’t help the tiny part of her that felt bad for him…that felt guilty thinking about him being miserable.

She knew Azriel didn’t love her, and didn’t feel the same way, but…a part of her cared about him. She didn’t want him to be miserable.

 "Why is he brooding?" she asked quietly.

The shadows hummed again, making a soft whispering sound before they spoke again.

His Mother told him he was an idiot. 

"She did?" Feyre perked up in surprise, while Nesta’s mouth curled into a satisfied smirk.

Yes, the shadows confirmed, coiling themselves into Eira’s hair like a strange, sentient snake.

It made something warm stir in Eira’s chest, imagining Esmeray calling Azriel an idiot to his face. Master realised that he hasn't been doing right to you...Not with the courting and not with...anything else. 

The words made more tears burn in Eira’s eyes, while Feyre shifted to give her a gentle hug.

“He’s realising, huh?” she grumbled. “That he’s been screwing up?”

Yes. The shadows coiled a little tighter around her, almost as if they were trying to comfort her. It made her heart ache in a different way, feeling warm and painful at the same time.

Will you talk to him? the shadows asked softly. Let him apologise? 

She was upset, she was hurt. She didn’t want to talk to him. She wanted to avoid him and forget this whole mess even happened.

But the shadows...they wanted her to talk to him. They…wanted her to let him apologize.

Another wave of guilt and shame washed over her.

Azriel had done…nothing wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he merely didn’t…care towards her.

He wanted the bond, he wanted the comfort, he wanted a mate, he just…he just didn’t want her .

The thought made a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes, which she promptly buried against Feyre’s shoulder.

Feyre hugged her tightly, while Nesta gently rubbed her back as the shadows continued to coil themselves around her. “It’s alright,” Feyre whispered soothingly, as more shadows drifted down to comfort her. “It’s going to be alright.”

The shadows continued to hum and shift, wrapping themselves around her like a protective, comforting blanket. It was somewhat soothing, the sensation of their coolness, the feel of them wrapping around her, almost like they were trying to tell her it would be alright.

Master has a lot to say to you, the shadows spoke up again. Please, just listen to him, Eira. 

So she just nodded.

Thank you. 

The shadows hummed again, coiling a little tighter around her, and it was almost as if she could feel a sort of pleasure coming from them that she had agreed to talk to Azriel, to listen to whatever he had to say.

"But they'll stay," she choked out, pulling Nesta's hand tight around herself.

“Of course,” Feyre said instantly, wrapping her arms around her as well. “We’ll both stay. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Damn right,” Nesta said, tightening her grip as well. “I may need to restrain myself from knocking any sense into him.”

In any other situation, Eira may have laughed at that, but instead, all she did was give a shaky nod, letting herself be pulled in tight by her sisters.

The gesture was comfort, the feel of them around her reassuring and warm, even as her heart ached in her chest.

A few seconds later, the door opened slowly, and Azriel walked into the room.

Every bit of his usually impassive, stoic demeanour was gone, replaced by a look of anxiety and worry. Eira could see the tension in his shoulders, and the way his hands were clenched into fists.

He stopped a few meters away from them, his gaze locking on Eira instantly.

She could feel his eyes raking over her, like a physical caress, taking in the sight of her clearly tear-stained face. The way her hands were being clutched by Feyre and Nesta.

He looked desperate like he wanted to walk over and touch her, but one glimpse at the way Feyre and Nesta had her wrapped in their arms had him hesitating.

"How...how are you feeling?" he asked her, and she could see his throat bob as he swallowed.

“How do you think she is, you idiot?” Nesta snapped, her voice low and cutting.

Azriel didn't pay any attention to her, his gaze firmly locked on Eira, staring at her as if he was waiting for her to say something.

And Eira…she had no idea what to say. She had absolutely no idea.

She sat there silently, letting words and thoughts and questions swirl in her mind, but saying nothing. And it only seemed to make the tension in Azriel’s shoulders grow even more, the worry in his gaze deepened.

“Eira…” he breathed out, his voice soft and raw, and she could see his hands twitch like he wanted to reach for her. “Can…can we talk?”

Both Feyre and Nesta tensed, their grip on her tightening.

"You can talk. She will listen," Nesta said, her voice icy. "And then she can decide if she wants to take pity on you, or if she never wants to see you again. Did you seriously tell my sister that Elain was prettier than her in the same breath as you asked to court her?!?"

Azriel closed his eyes, looking pained at that, and she could see his shoulders slump. But he didn’t deny it, didn’t try to defend himself, and Eira just…felt her heart ache even more.

"I was an idiot," he said quietly, his voice low and thick. "I…I was a fool."

He sounded so miserable when he said that, and something in Eira just…wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him that this was hurting her more than he seemed to comprehend…but she just sat there, saying nothing, letting the tears still fall silently down her cheeks.

Azriel took a few steps closer, his gaze still firmly fixed on her. He looked miserable, like a wounded animal, like he was in pain.

And a small part of her…a small, stupid part of her wanted to reach out to him. Wanted to tell him it was going to be alright, to hug him and tell him she wasn’t angry.

But it wasn’t going to be alright, and she was angry. So she said nothing.

The silence seemed to drag on, the tension rising thicker in the room. The two sisters held her tighter still, their hands clenched around her, their own gazes fixed on Azriel, shooting glares at him.

It made him look even more miserable, and she could see him taking another cautious step forward.

“Eira…” he tried again, his voice so soft and pleading. “Please, please say something…”

The silence seemed to drag on, the tension rising thicker in the room. The two sisters held her tighter still, their hands clenched around her, their own gazes fixed on Azriel, shooting glares at him.

It made him look even more miserable, and she could see him taking another cautious step forwards.

“Eira…” he tried again, his voice so soft and pleading. “Please, please say something…”

"What do you want me to say, Azriel?" she asked, her voice weak. She wanted to scream and shout but she didn't have it in herself.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to talk about how your mother had absolutely no clue that we are mates ? How she told me that you were fond of me but fonder of Elain? How it was just too bad that Elain was mated to another male?!"

She could see his body go tense at that, his eyes widening.

It hurt her, to see the realization and pain slowly spreading over his face. He knew what she had gone through, what she had to hear, the truth that his mother had revealed.

But he didn’t understand. He had absolutely no idea just how much all that had hurt her.

"I thought I was alright with it. I thought I could live with it. I could live with the fact that you didn't actually want me. That you wanted the life that vision promised you...that you were in love with my twin sister and not with me."

The words stung both Azriel and her.

She could see him shifting, and hear a low, pained sound leaving his lips. She could see something in his expression…a pain and hurt so deep she couldn’t even find the words to describe it.

"You…you think I don't want you...?" he breathed out, his voice so low she almost didn't hear it.

"You don't want me," Eira choked out. "You wanted Elain. And before that, you wanted Morrigan. And then Elain's vision promised you me and you go along with it, because of the mating bond."

Azriel flinched at that like each word was a physical blow. He looked sick, the misery on his face growing with each statement.

And a part of her was satisfied, seeing him look like that, seeing him look in pain. It was what he deserved after everything that he had done.

But the other part of her…the other part of her ached and bled at every expression of pain on his face.

The silence again continued to drag on, the air still and tense with the heavy atmosphere between the two of them.

He hadn’t denied it, she knew he hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t said that she was wrong, that she was wrong in thinking the only reason he pursued her was because of the bond.

The thought made her eyes sting, tears brimming and overflowing. Her heart ached, hurt, felt like it was bleeding.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I am so sorry, Eira."

The words stung, just as much as they gave her hope.

Her heart was aching in her chest, tears still falling slowly down her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled, and she took in a few shaky breaths.

She had been hurt by him. He had never even considered her before the bond had snapped. And he hadn’t denied it when she had called him out on it.

And still, she wanted him to fix this. Wanted him to find some way to fix this.

"I am not...I am not going and try to defend myself," he whispered. "I am not going and lie to you. And yes, Eira. I did see that vision and I felt that Mating Bond and I did want to pursue you. Because I want that future. I want that future with you."

She wanted that future with him as well, she longed for it, but she wanted him to come to her because he wanted her. Because he desired her, the vision be damned.

But instead, she came second fiddle to an image in a vision. Instead, she came last to Elain and Mor.

"And I went about it wrong," Azriel continued. "I should have...I should have actually made the effort to get to know you, Eira. I should have talked to you. I should have asked what you wanted. I should have asked for your favourite colour. And I should have..."

He trailed off, the words leaving him in a choked gasp. Eira could see the misery on his face, the suffering.

He looked completely miserable, his hands clenching into fists, his shoulders hunched and tensed, but he kept on going, his voice thick and low in his throat.

"I should have cared. I should have seen you. I should have noticed you."

"And I can't change it. I can't change what I did know. I fucked up, Eira. I fucked up so badly, that you have every reason and every right not to want to see me for centuries."

The words stung, and Eira just…she ached.

She ached, she hurt, and everything inside her had tears welling. She ached because…she wanted to forgive him. She wanted to give him a second chance.

But the thought of being second rate again, of being the last choice…it hurt.

But…she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, either. Couldn’t look away from the sight of how miserable he was, how distressed and in pain.

It hurt, it hurt so badly…but a part of her just wanted to hug him, to reassure him…Azriel took another few steps towards her, his eyes fixed on hers. He looked so wretched, his eyes pained, his whole body shaking as if it was taking him a monumental effort to remain standing there. To force himself to remain standing so close to her, to keep looking at her.

He was still a good few meters away from her, but the expression on his face, the look in his eyes…

It was like he was in agony.

She could see his hands clenching into fists, and could hear him taking a shaky breath.

"You…you don’t have to forgive me, or even want to talk to me again," he said, and she could hear how hard it was for him to form those words.

It hurt…it hurt seeing him look so miserable, looking like he was in pain. And it hurt because she wanted him. She still wanted him.

And the fact that it hurt was what got to her, what finally made her move. She shoved off Feyre and Nesta, who were still holding her, both of them looking startled.

They protested, clearly wanting to hold her back, but Eira pushed her way through, walking towards him.

Azriel hadn’t moved, his body going tense, his eyes going wide as she approached him.

And she hated that part of herself. She hated how much she still wanted him, despite everything that had happened. How much she ached for him, in ways that should be impossible.

It was a sharp, dull ache, a desperate and constant pain, a desire to reach out to him, to pull him closer, and at the same time, shove him as far away as possible.

She wanted to shove him away, push him further away. She wanted to tell him to suffer, to hurt the way she was hurting.

But at the same time…she wanted to pull him closer. To feel his skin against hers, under her fingertips. To feel his arms around her, holding her tight, his lips against her skin.

It was maddening. He was maddening.

“I am sorry,” he said, the truth flowing like clear spring water from his words. “I am so sorry. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

His words…she wanted to believe them. Wanted to believe that he was being sincere, that he truly was sorry, that he wanted to make it up to her.

And a small, naive, foolish, hopeful part of her, the part that was desperate and hopeful and greedy, did believe him. Wanted to latch onto the words, to hold them tight and not let go.

“I want to get to know you. I want to learn your favourite colour and your favourite place in Velaris. I want..”

He paused, taking a shaky breath. His eyes were still fixed on hers, pleading and desperate and aching, his entire body practically aching with the need to come closer.

“I want to learn everything there is to know about you. I want to learn about your smile and your laugh and your tears. I want to be with you, Eira.”

The words…they were everything that she wanted to hear. Everything that she had wished he would tell her, and more. They felt like a caress, like a gentle breeze, a soft comfort. And they hurt.

They hurt because she wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and hold him close. Wanted to forgive him and let herself be close to him in the way she longed for.

“I want to be with you,” he repeated, his words a choked gasp. “I want to court you. I want to mate you. I want to…I want…”

He trailed off, choking on the words, taking another deep breath. His body was shaking, his shoulders tense, his expression aching with the effort of it all.

He looked in pain, so utterly hurt, like every word out of his mouth was agony. But he was still talking, still trying to get out the words, trying to make her understand.

“I want to spend every waking moment of my day with you,” he continued, his tone so raw and open and aching. “I want to wake up with you and go to sleep with you. I want to hear your voice and see your face every damn day.”

“I’ll do better, I’ll be better,“ he whispered.

He sounded so desperate, his voice thick and raw and pleading. It was like he was being ripped apart from the inside like he was in physical pain.

And Eira…she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t help but believe his words, couldn’t help but let her stubborn, foolish heart hope.

“Please,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Please, please give me a second chance. I’ll…”

Another breath, another choked gasp. His shoulders hunched, his fists clenching tighter.

“I’ll do anything, just please give me a second chance. Give me the chance to right this. Give me the chance to prove to you…prove to you how much I want you. Just…give me another chance.”

His voice was so raw, so open, the look in his eyes pure pleading. He looked like he was ready to beg, ready to do anything for her. Anything to give him another chance.

And her heart, her foolish, stupid, hopeless heart…the part that wanted to hold onto him, to forgive him, to give him that chance ached.

She still hurt, still ached, the words from his mother still so fresh in her mind. The thought of being second, of being his last choice…it was a sharp blow against her.

But at the same time, she couldn’t stop the part of her that wanted to hold onto him. That longed for just a chance, just a moment where he was hers, where she was first and last and everything in his heart.

Azriel looked ready to continue, but he stopped when he saw the look on her face, her conflicting emotions warring inside her chest.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping. He was probably expecting her to say no, to turn him down. He probably expected her to…

To do the sensible, rational thing. But sensibility and rationality were the last things she was feeling right now.

Her heart was aching, her body trembling, her emotions a swirl of conflicting feelings. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her just how idiotic she was for considering this.

And at the same time, her heart was yearning, longing for him. Wanting to grab onto him and never let go.

Azriel’s entire body was shaking, his eyes still closed, looking like he was bracing himself for her answer, for the words he expected her to say.

The words she should say, the words that would send him away, that would make her turn and walk away.

And yet…she found herself taking a step closer towards him. And then another.

She wasn’t even sure why she was doing it, why her body was moving before she even knew it, her mind screaming at her to stop and turn around and walk away.

But she kept moving towards him, each step sending a strange, giddy rush shooting through her, her heart aching and fluttering at the same time.

And she stopped in front of him, less than a foot of space separating them, her eyes fixed on his.

Azriel still hadn’t opened his eyes, his face tense and taut as if waiting for the blow to come.

But the blow never came.

Because Eira reached out, her fingers trembling as she reached up to touch his cheek.

Azriel's entire body jerked as if he had been struck, a gasp leaving his mouth. His eyes flew open, shock and surprise clear on his face.

But he didn’t move, didn't pull away or even flinch as her fingers made contact with his skin.

He just stood there, frozen as he stared at her.

Her hand trembled, her throat tight as she felt the warmth of his skin. His face was tense, his breath catching with every moment her fingers remained against his skin, like he was fighting the urge to turn his head and press his lips to her skin.

“Eira,” he breathed out, the word a whispered plea, a prayer. And then he seemed to realize he had moved, was on the edge of reaching out to her in turn.

But he caught himself, his hands hanging at his sides. He was holding himself back, holding himself from reaching for her…

And somehow, that made her even more determined, her decision stronger.

She wanted him to reach for her, wanted his hands on her skin, wanted him to hold her close and never let go.

She slid her hand along his cheek, her palm caressing his jaw. And she stepped even closer, closing the very last bit of distance between them.

They were so close, her body almost pressed flush against him. He was so warm, his body burning, and so large, like a rock, unflinching and steady against her.

She could feel him trembling, just barely holding himself back from wrapping his arms around her. His eyes were fixed on hers, longing and pleading and aching.

Her breath caught when she realized how closely she was pressed against him, how only a fraction of distance separated their bodies. She could practically feel his racing heart under her skin, hear every quick and desperate breath leaving his mouth.

He was breathing fast, ragged and sharp, every little inhale shuddering from his lips like a gasp. He looked like he was about to snap, his entire body visibly trembling like a taut thread on the edge of snapping.

“Don’t do it again,” she said softly. “I won’t…I won’t be able to go through it a second time.”

Her words seemed to hit him like a physical blow, his breath hitching in his chest. She could see the pain that flared on his face at her words.

“I-I won’t. I swear,” he responded, and his voice was so gentle, like he was talking to a wounded bird. “I swear on my life, I’ll never let you go through that again.”

He was holding himself back, every muscle and sinew in his body tense with the effort of it. It was like he was fighting the urge to pull her flush against him, to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

“I swear, Eira,” he repeated, his voice a low and achingly sincere promise. “I swear I’ll be better. I’ll be everything you need, anything you want.”

“The only thing I want is for you to be yourself. I want you. All of you.”

A choked gasp left his mouth, his eyes going wide. He looked almost stunned like he couldn’t quite process what she had said.

“I…you want me?” he asked, his voice rough and raw, filled with disbelief.

She nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “Yes. I want you,” she confirmed, her voice firm and unwavering.

The words had a strange effect on him. It was like they had knocked the air from his lungs, leaving him looking completely awed and shocked.

He took another shuddering breath, his body trembling as he stared down at her. “You…you really still want me?” he asked his voice barely a whisper.

And just like that, the dam broke inside him. He reached out, pulling her flush against his body, his arms wrapping tight around her.

His head dropped to her shoulder, his body shuddering as he pressed his face against the crook of her neck. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, his voice ragged and raw and desperate. “I’ll be better. I’ll be the male you deserve. I promise.”

His body was shaking against hers, holding her tight like he was afraid she would disappear. He was breathing fast, hard and frantic, his chest rising and falling against her body frantically.

She could feel him shaking like a leaf, every muscle in his body taut and tense as he held her tight but oh so gently. And under that, she could feel his racing heart, beating so fast and intense that it was dizzying.

“I’ll be everything you need,” Azriel repeated, his lips moving against her skin, his words spoken in a low, ragged whisper. “I’ll be your male, your mate. I’ll never leave you, never hurt you or let you down again. I swear it, Eira, I swear it on my life.”

His fingers were digging into her skin, clinging to her so tightly that she could feel the slight, sharp pressure of his hands against her like he was trying to hold her to him, keep her as close as possible.

He was holding her so tightly that it should have hurt, but it only felt good. It felt like a comfort, a reassurance like he would never let her go.

[httpsryu]

the cc; campus crush : 2

pairing: kim minjeong x fem! reader

summary: kim minjeong feels her heart rush at the sight of the cold-hearted rich girl

category: enemies-to-lovers(in minjeong's head)

genre: this part is ANGSTY

warnings: y/n is kind of mean (ITS IN HER BLOOD)

a/n: i had no clue that cc would have this much support! thank you so much guys <3

The second the professor ended the lecture, students bombards the door. Jimin turns back to her shoulder to check up on Minjeong and see if she's going to hang with her and the others. However, seeing you still next to her gives her other ideas.

Her phone lets out a small buzz, having her look at it and she smiles while typing back an 'alright, have fun! i'll inform the others'.

"Think Minjeong is going to be with someone else today." Jimin informs Aeri and Yizhou while closing up her notebooks and putting them in her extremely large and heavy black backpack.

Aeri swears that backpack can be used as a dumbbell workout at this rate.

Both Aeri and Yizhou nods, putting two-and-two together.

"I admit, I'm surprised that Minjeong is managing this far with Hong Y/N." The Japanese amusedly turns back to look at her friend and the cold-faced rich girl. "I kind of thought they would just sit next to each other and that would be it."

The Chinese besides her throws her head back in a fit of laughter. "Come on! Give some hope in our Jeongie."

On the other hand, Minjeong patiently waits for you as you finish typing out the rest of the lecture's notes. However, she can see the slight confusion resting upon your very attractive face at some of the points given in today's lecture.

She assumes it's probably because you're not here for every class so confusion would make sense.

"Hey..um..if you always need help with anything, feel free to ask me. I can always help assist you." The short-haired offers, a bit shy, of course.

This reaction of the intriguing female sparks sort of a frenzy in you. Of course; you cannot pinpoint what it is.

"I don't need your help." A blunt yet short response comes from you.

You aren't sure if what you said was offensive, as you've always are used to that tone while growing up. However, to Minjeong, it seems a bit too honest. But then again, she understands it. You are a cold person like everyone else said. She can stand it.

"Ah." She can only respond, nodding as she doesn't want to push any boundaries on you.

With a slam from closing your laptop, you shove the device into your backpack. With no care if it breaks or not because less work for you to do. You look up after zipping up the bag.

"You should close that more gently." Minjeong suggests, seeing you raise your eyebrow at her suggestion. "Just because your hand can get hurt."

If anyone can see the way your eyes soften for a glimpse second, it would be the heavens from above.

"It's whatever." You reply, getting out of your seat.

The short-haired doesn't move, still frozen at where she is sitting. Unsure of whether you'd still want to grab coffee with her or not. It seemed like she pushed your buttons, judging from how you respond.

"Are we getting coffee or not?" You ask, sounding a little bit impatient as you couldn't help but to swing your bag in a sassy manner as you also don't forget to fix your hair with a swing of a finger.

Minjeong's eyes widens, immediately getting out of where she was sitting and rushing over to your side. "Yeah we are."

"She's like a puppy. A bit cute." You can't help but to mumble under your breath, walking ahead of her, a smile kind of crept to your mouth as you hear her following swiftly behind you.

Minjeong shoots her friends a small smile before disappearing out the classroom to catch up with you.

"You know what?" Yizhou stands up, ready for a snack break before her 12 PM class starts. "I kind of ship it."

Aeri gets what Yizhou means. "Honestly, it's like a cute love-smitten nerd and her bossy mean girlfriend."

Both Minjeong and Y/N kind of clicks well, looking good to the eyes too.

"Can we stop by the vending machines so I can get some more energy drinks?" Jimin asks, pushing her glasses up on the nose bridge.

The Japanese and Chinese look at each other, sighing before shaking their heads NO.

"PLEASE!"

"NO!" Both girls say in unison, getting up from their seat.

"Hey! Where are you guys going? Wait for me!" Jimin pushes up her glasses on her nose bridge once again before hastily putting the rest of her supplies in her very heavy backpack in a frantic.

Minjeong cannot believe she is sitting right in front of THE Hong Y/N. How does one get lucky with their campus crush? Certainly Minjeong must've been a hero in her past life because what do you mean Y/N is here having coffee with her?

Feeling a pair of eyes on you, you divert your eyes from the coffee cup in your hands to the short-haired female.

Minjeong flashes her eyes to somewhere else, not wanting you to catch her staring, enamored by you.

You hate to admit it but Minjeong is pretty cute.

Your phone rings, having you span your attention somewhere else as you grab it from your bag. With a sigh, you decline the call before stuffing it in back into your bag.

"If you have places to be, we can end the day here."

Furrowing your brows at the other sitting across from you, you shake your head. You don't want to seem rude, especially after someone treated you out. "No. It's fine."

"I understand that you're a busy person." Minjeong responds back, reaching over to take a sip of the sweet-looking frappe (you try your best to not cringe at how sweet it is).

"Minjeong-shi?" You call her name and the church bells started ringing in the other girl's head at the way you said her name. "I don't leave my appointments hanging."

Oh.

Appointments.

That's all Minjeong would ever be to you.

While she's over here thinking it was a chance to know one another, you see her as an appointment. A one-time thing. Minjeong knew it was too good to be true. Why would someone like you ever be into someone like her?

You seem to take notice of the sudden dejection of the other sitting across from you. However, you did not want to ask her if everything is alright. After all, you don't have the time to do anything yet alone, try to get to know someone else. After four years of university, you'll never see anyone from campus again.

There's no point in getting to know someone.

Just even getting coffee with this girl is a lot of time taken from you.

"I think it's best if we cut it short." You look down at the watch on your wrist, already dreading at the fact that you need to be at the department. You can already hear the scolding from both your father and sister.

Time is a limitation to you, Minjeong assumes.

"Oh. Yeah, I understand!" The red haired is about to stand up from her seat to greet you out but you stop her from doing so.

"No need for that." Disliking the idea of someone walking you out, especially if it's someone that does not work for the family. You pick up your handbag, giving the other a small half-smile. "I enjoyed this."

Minjeong can only smile back in response, unsure of what else to say. It's quite evident that you don't want to waste your time with someone like her. She takes the hint, she gets it.

She feels foolish, honestly.

"Well then, I am off now." You turn, ready to walk away with your signature Valentino heels, that make quite a presence to themselves. However, you turn back around to lock eye contact with the puppy-eyed girl. "See you around."

"Yeah. See you.." The puppy-eyed girl responds quietly to your farewell.

A sad sigh escapes from her, her shoulders falling beside her as she slumps herself in the chair. Wondering why someone as pretty as you have to be such a busy person.

Was there a need to call her your appointment though?

It's quite clear that Minjeong wants to know you better, hell, you probably already knew.

And yet; you called her an appointment.

Everyone's right.

You are a cold-hearted soul.

But why does Minjeong still like the idea of you and her? Even though it's clear you're not interested in her the same way she is in you. Why does Minjeong still want to keep trying?

Tip-toeing between the many different stores in the department, you check a quick scan-looking around for any sights of a Hong Haein. You let out a sigh of relief before running fast to another store across from you.

"Why are you late?"

Startled at the sudden voice, your heart starts wanting to leap out your chest at the voice of your older sister.

"Hi..." You force a smile, turning around to be met with Haein, her brows furrowed from frustration, pout evident on her lips and her arms are crossed as she repeatedly taps her right foot as she waits for your reasoning. "I just had an appointment."

Haein lowers her gaze, meeting with your height. "You missed the meeting for an appointment?"

"Yeah...?"

The older stares straight on, not caring if it made you feel small nor vulnerable. "An appointment isn't going to be there in the future like this department store is."

"Yes, I know that." You're tired of hearing anything to do with the department and the business that comes from it.

Haein clenches her jaw, not wanting to lose her patience in front of the customers. "If you knew that, why did you miss the meeting? Do you not care about your future?"

"I do care..." Your voice suddenly becoming quiet, blinking fast while looking away from your sister's gaze to not let the tears fall.

The older Hong can only let out a sigh. "Look, someday, I'll stop being the CEO of this department store and I want you to take my place. How can I trust you for this position when you don't even show up to these important meetings we have?"

"I'll do better."

"You always say that to get out of me nagging you." Haein tsks, her patience getting less with you. "How is Soocheol more reliable than you?"

Digging your nails into the palm of your hands from withstanding the awful and horrible words you were about to say to your sister, you can only nod.

"There was no point to even show up." Your sister looks down at her watch, staring at the time which means it was pointless to even try to talk sense into you. "Just go home or wherever you came from."

Before you could respond, the older puts up her hand to answer a phone call. You can only look away in frustration at the way she doesn't care about your feelings. Why would she try to understand?

She's the most successful out of the three of you.

Of course, she doesn't understand.

She loves being in this business, that's how much she loves the company.

Why couldn't it be the same for you?

"Grandfather wants to see us tonight for a family meeting tonight." Haein puts her phone away, looking at you with a stern look but her eyes softened for a quick glimpse at how tired you looked. "Y/N, you know I love you more than Soocheol. I don't want to nag you, but it's my job to make sure you'll do well in this business. Do you understand?"

Staring down at your heels, you can only sigh.

"Aren't you going to answer me?"

"Alright."

With a final nod and a small tight lipped smile, Haein turns around and walks away on her heels.

Knowing that you're not actually allowed to head back home until everyone else leaves, you can only gather yourself together before standing up with your back straight and face held high. Letting out another deep breath before composing yourself to continue the act you've perfected for years, you walk off towards the elevators.

Making sure each step of your heels are seen with confidence, like how your family wanted to be known as. Staring straight on, ignoring the passer-by's attention that are naturally drawn to you.

You see your secretary waiting for you at the elevators ready to give you your assigned orders given to you by both your father and sister.

"Hi Secretary Park." You open out your hand, waiting for the iPad to be given.

The older lady in front bows. "Good evening, Miss Hong." Handing you the iPad which shows the stocks, shares and information regarding of each store in the department. "The CEO wants you to write an analytical summary of each store regarding their sales."

And how in the world do you do that?

"Without Director Baek's assistance." Your secretary says with worry.

Hong Haein is doing this on purpose! What the hell?

"Got it." You look down at the screen in your hands, wanting to just throw and break the device displaying the graphs in front of your face. "Inform her that I'll try to get that at the end of next week."

Noticing the uncomfortable yet concerned expression on Secretary Park's face, you tilt your head. "What?"

"She wants this all done by tomorrow."

Fucking hell.

"Oh. Ok."

Minjeong types on her laptop in the dimly-lit library on campus, of course, with her best friends by her side because who needs girls when she has three awesome people.

But, in spite of that, the short-haired ejects a small upset sigh to where she can't even focus on her assignments. This, of course earned her three friends to turn to her, pitying the other.

"There's other of plenty pretty women on this campus, you know?" Aeri softly says, tapping her pen on her notebook as she tries to think of someone's name. "What about Ryujin?"

Minjeong stops typing, looking up from the screen and at the Japanese. "No, she's too much of a flirt and besides, her and I would clash in the worst way possible."

"Plus she's in a situation-ship with Yeji..." Yizhou mumbles, trying not to let Jimin hear.

The oldest of the four picks her head up from the medical book she's buried in. "You don't have to walk on eggshells around me when you talk about Yeji, alright? She wasn't out the closet during that time and I completely gotten over it."

The short-haired can only stare at her best friend, never forgetting the night when Jimin, the most composed and mature of the group lost her chill that night when Yeji and her ended things. Perhaps, it could be the case for you. You probably weren't into women.

Minjeong glances over at Aeri, wondering when the Japanese would just confess to Jimin already.

"Hmm..what about Yunjin?" Aeri suggests the pretty red-haired music major.

Minjeong shakes her head in agony. "I'll never find someone like Y/N."

"Obviously. She's a rich woman whose family earned their way up. She knows how to hold herself well." Yizhou points out the obvious, not surprised at all for Minjeong feeling the way she feels.

Jimin sighs, looking up from the book she's burying her face into. "Minjeong, I'm saying this to you as your best friend. It's okay to have an ideal type, but it's also alright to accept potential candidates too. Why do you seem to be interested in Hong Y/N so much?"

"I-I don't know where I should start. For starters, she's a very pretty girl. One of the most pretty girls, if not-the prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on. She somehow, despite being busy with her family, she's always balancing work-school life. Like yeah, she's kind of mean but I kind of like that about her. I don't mind her being mean to me at all."

"Oh." Jimin can only react with. "You're in pretty deep."

Minjeong can only sigh, putting her head into her hands with frustration. "She made it clear that she isn't interested in anything but why do I want to keep trying?"

"Good luck." Aeri snorts, dismissively going back to studying.

The puppy-like female brings her head back up at Aeri's dismissive attitude leaving Yizhou laughing. This results in Minjeong flicking a pencil at the Chinese's teasing.

"OW!"

Minjeong can only shrug. "You all think its funny that I'm pining over someone who wants nothing to do with me, right?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe."

"Let's have some faith in our Minjeong, come on."

Minjeong wants to bury herself in a hole for even being like this over a girl. But it's not just any girl...ITS you.

"Guys, I think I'm going to keep trying." Minjeong announces with full determination in her eyes.

Jimin, Aeri and Yizhou can only sigh in response.

prev. part

august 2, 2024; publishing date

hey...how is everyone doing...?

taglist: OPEN

[pinkestofpanthers]

you snooped through my wallet? | scott summers

pairing: scott summers x fem!reader warning(s): i would say this is pretty angsty? scott being a little avoidant, logan is kinda mean in this one? lots of fluff and comfort though! i should also mention reader is not a mutant! i could not think of any special powers i wanted to include.

if someone were to ask you, you would tell them you knew everything about the students scott taught at xavier's school for gifted youngsters. he even told you about his coworkers and their beautiful abilities. you always listened to his stories with an open mind and a smile on your face. you swore you fell in love a little more each time he spoke so passionately about what he does.

now, if someone were to ask one of scott's students or coworkers what they knew about you, they'd either stare blankly or laugh in their face. you see, scott didn't think of you as a secret, if there was anything scott was more passionate about than his job, it was you.

so why did it seem like he was hesitant to tell everyone about your relationship?

it made no sense to you. when scott first asked you to be his girlfriend, you raced back to your apartment and immediately called your mom. your gloating got to a point where you had your own coworkers asking where they could "find one like him". perhaps you boasted about your lovely boyfriend a bit too much, because now you were starting to feel like a major issue was rising in the relationship.

that was until late one night when you heard a soft knock on your door. you shuffled out of bed, grabbing a kitchen knife on your way, just in case there was a polite masked murderer on the other side of the door. checking through the peephole, you're instantly met with red lenses. letting out a sigh of relief, you undo the deadbolt and open the door wide enough to let scott in. you see his eyebrows quirk up as he spots the weapon in your hand,

"you can never be too careful, summers," you respond, leading him into your living room and turning on your lamp.

"who would gently knock on your door at this hour?" he asked, sitting down on your loveseat sofa.

"my other boyfriend," you quipped, shooting him a teasing glare. "water?"

"i'm okay for now. you seriously aren't gonna ask why i'm here?" he watches you as you move. right now, he wished you'd just stay in one place. your pacing and opening cabinets and fridges was making him more nervous than he already was.

"well, i didn't get a 'you up' text, so i'm going to assume this isn't a late night booty-call," you spoke and took a seat right next to him.

"i'm afraid not, either way if that was the case i wouldn't have given you the chance to get that glass of water," he joked and you only scoffed, taking a sip from said cup in your hand.

"how cute, scotty," you playfully rolled your eyes. "what's up? everything okay? i do appreciate any chance i get to see my beautiful boyfriend, but not when we have plans to see each other in...five hours," you finished and could see the man before you tense up a bit.

"do you think that i could do more for you?" he blurted out, fidgeting with his hands. you were a bit puzzled, you had never seen scott so nervous. and this was someone who was normally so confident that he didn't even need to ask you what you wanted to do, he had reservations and plans made.

"baby, relax a little bit," you started, setting your water down on your coffee table. "where is this coming from? what you mean 'more'? you do more than enough already."

"like, bring you around to the mansion. have you meet my students, meet charles of all people. do you think i'm ashamed of you?" he continued to ramble and you had to stop him.

"okay, i seriously need you to take a deep breath, hon. what's going on? what's got you so in your head?" your eyes scanning over him for some type of clue.

he let you know about the past few hours spent at the mansion.

an issue that plagued xavier's school for gifted youngsters was the topic of dinner. you would think they'd have bigger things to worry about than what they were going to be eating for the night, but you would sadly be mistaken.

"i don't know scott, i'm not really feeling pizza tonight," ororo spoke, flipping through the pages of whatever book she picked up recently.

"okay, what about from that indian place we all like? you were talking about their samosas the other day!" he replied. takeout was pretty rare at the mansion, everyone having their own regimen and meal preps for each day. today was not one of those days, considering that the team had dealt with a difficult mission earlier. so of course, not a lot of thought was put into dinner.

"if there is nothing else you can think of, then i guess so. you paying?" she looked to him, setting her book down for a brief moment.

"if it will make you agree, then i don't mind. let the others know, need to order before it's too late," he said while grabbing a menu.

with the amount of food ordered, no one was expecting a speedy delivery. that's why everyone hurried off and found something to busy themselves with while waiting. including scott, who went up to his room to make sure he'd call you for the night. he told you about the class he taught earlier that day, the mission he had been on a few hours ago, and how he was planning on ending his night. he even promised you that he would see you tomorrow, suggesting the two of you head to the county fair that was being held outside of town. though he wished he could have stayed on the phone with you forever, he ended the call and hurried downstairs. the rustling of paper bags and chatter filled his ears. the food was definitely here.

"hey, everyone. sorry i wasn't downstairs when they got here, i would have paid. that was all sorted out though, right?" he asked after apologizing, feeling a bit bad that he couldn't answer the door himself.

"don't worry, bub," logan spoke, "you didn't need to hurry up and end your phone call with princess charming."

"excuse me?" scott asked, looking at the man like his mutant powers made him grow three additional heads.

"leave the delivery guy's tip out the next time you rush off to take a phone call is all i'm gonna say," the man replied.

"you snooped through my wallet, logan? seriously?" with this, the rest of the kitchen got quiet, everyone's attention turning to the two men.

"i didn't! word travels pretty fast here," was all logan mumbled out, and turned to face jean.

"jean? you went through my wallet?" scott turned to his former girlfriend, who looked almost speechless.

"okay, i did! but i wasn't 'snooping'. like logan said, you didn't leave the delivery guy's tip. so i thought if i just went in and got an extra five it would be fine. was a bit shocked when i saw the girl, though," she explained.

"well, we can't all be hung up on the past," scott bit back, and this made jean sigh and logan scoff.

"for your information, my girlfriend and i are just fine," logan retorted and stepped in front of scott, blocking jean from his sight.

"what's that supposed to mean?" scott raises his voice just a bit, not wanting to scare anyone away.

"it means that you have a picture of a girl we can only assume is your girlfriend in your wallet and for some reason, tonight was the first time any of us even knew of her existence. everything okay at lover's lane, bub?" logan questioned, looking at scott defiantly.

"don't talk about her!" scott warned him, trying to push past the man.

"you're right, you're right. you shouldn't speak on people you don't know, scotty," logan teased and it only made scott cringe.

after a long pause hung in the air, everyone went back to situating themselves for dinner. if anything, they'd be nosy about scott's new girlfriend and his little argument with logan after their stomachs were full.

scott didn't even want to eat. he felt his appetite ruin as logan spoke about you. it didn't help that logan spoke so highly of his ex-girlfriend, but for him to not even know you and think he can make assumptions about you and him was enough to put scott off for the rest of the night.

he excused himself after finishing what he could from his meal. making his way back up to his room, he spotted ororo about to walk into the library.

"you okay?" she asked, just wanting to check in on him.

"besides feeling like the shittiest boyfriend alive? i think i'm doing okay," he tried to laugh it off, but the joke fell flat.

"listen," ororo started, "i don't think you're a terrible boyfriend. i think that the line of work you put yourself in is not one that you planned on exposing your girlfriend to, at least not now. she's not a mutant, right?"

scott nodded and ororo continued,

"bringing her around here would be lovely, and i of all people would love to meet her. i need to pick her brain and see how she deals with you," she laughed and successfully got a chuckle out of scott. "but this is why we set boundaries, and have little relationship milestones. don't let anyone make you feel awful because you're doing the right thing and going slow with her, okay?" ororo asked, hand landing on scott's shoulder to offer him some type of comfort.

"thanks, ororo. a part of me just doesn't want her to feel like she needs to worry about me being here. i still work and live with my ex-girlfriend, and for her to be reminded of that every time she comes here isn't something i want her to overthink about. i don't want it to hurt us," scott ranted, finally revealing all his fears and the main reason why he didn't want to introduce you so soon.

"don't you think it might hurt you both more if you don't introduce her and keep hiding her from this place?" it was almost as if all the lights went off in scott's head, and he finally understood he shouldn't continue hiding one part of his life that he cherished from the other.

ending the conversation off, he thanked ororo for her advice and promised her that she'd get to meet you sooner than she expected.

"i'll hold you to it," the woman smiled back as she disappeared into the dimly lit library.

after hearing him recount the entire night to you, you took a deep breath and found the hand of his that was closest to you, taking it in your grasp. you brought it up to your face and kissed it over and over. you hoped it would calm him down, but scott would tell you that your lack of a spoken response worried him a little bit.

"i think," you finally spoke, "that for a while, i was sort of offended that i was this hidden part of you. i felt like every time i would mention a friend of yours, or ask how a certain student was doing, you'd close yourself off. i mean, i'm no mutant but i felt like it was something you were uncomfortable with me mentioning? so i backed off," you explained.

"it also didn't help when you'd mention that there was an upcoming gala you had to go to, or that the mansion was hosting some kind of small party, and i'd sit and wonder if i was ever going to get an invite," you finished, letting go of everything that was weighing you down for the past month.

scott looked defeated, and you could tell he was feeling bad. though you wanted to tell him that he there was no need to continue beating himself up about it, you wanted to give him time to speak for himself.

"i just...what i do is really special to me. and you're incredibly special to me. i have this weird feeling that if i introduce you to everyone, things might fall apart," he let out, and you looked at him sympathetically.

"you'll never know if you don't try, honey," you whispered to him as you kissed his cheek.

it was decided then. scott knew he wanted to introduce you sometime soon, but didn't know how soon. he asked you if you would be comfortable meeting everyone after the little trip you two were taking tomorrow. you could only smile and tell him it was perfectly fine with you.

as scott watched you interact with those living in the house, he doesn't understand why he never wanted these two important parts of his life to interact with each other. it was endearing, truly. watching you laugh with rogue, go back and forth with logan, and even answer all of ororo's questions. while conversing with jean, his eyes met yours from across the room and you could only grin back at him. he doesn't know what he was ever scared of. though his nerves died down a little bit, there was still one person that scott was a bit anxious for you to interact with.

"excuse me," you two heard as you made your way back into scott's arms. turning around, you felt scott's grip on your waist tighten, and your eyes met with the man who was before you.

"hello! you must be-" you excitedly chirped before he politely interrupted,

"professor charles xavier. it is so wonderful to finally meet you," the older man answered with a warm smile.

a/n: hello everyone! i hope that you enjoyed what you've read! i've been searching for scott fics all over and have found almost nothing so i decided to just write one on my own. i haven't written a full fic in so long so please be kind. thank you so so much!!! <3

[puckinghischier]

Jersey Talk

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader finds herself engaging in a lot of jersey talk

notes: part 3 of my lil unnamed nico series!! i loved writing this part and hope you enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 also, i didn’t really proofread so ignore any mistakes. and just a disclaimer, i don’t claim to know everything there is to know about any of the players mentioned in my writing, so if there’s inaccuracies on timelines or personality traits, just ignore them and assume it’s for the plot 😌

p.s.!! i’m thinking about starting a tag list for this/any of my writing i post so if you want to be a part of that, let me know!!

part 1, part 2, part 4

[6.4k]

You absolutely love how foot travel friendly New Jersey is. Coming from an area where foot travel is virtually nonexistent, the change is a welcomed one. You appreciate being able to simply grab your favorite totes, your headphones, and make the fifteen-minute walk to the small corner store. Surely in the winter you’ll feel differently about the five-block trek, but hopefully you’ll have your car by then. For now, the comfortable Autumn air makes the walk enjoyable. The fresh air, the beautiful buildings, and the surprising friendliness of the strangers you pass on the street make you feel like you made the right decision in relocating your life to the garden state.

Luckily this grocery run was fairly light, only needing to pick up some essentials until one of the boys gives you a ride to the larger chain grocery store on one of their upcoming off days. You really just needed the ingredients to make dinner tonight, making good on your promise to be their personal shopper and occasional chef in exchange for a place to live. You even stopped in a small bakery about a block from your apartment and picked up a few assorted pastries for a sweet treat later, knowing how much Luke loves his dessert.

As you walk into the apartment, courtesy of your shiny new key Jack gave you last week, you see both him and Luke on the couch, each with one hand on an iPad held out so both could view the contents on the screen. You assume they’re watching game film, preparing for their game later in the week against the Rangers. Your assumption is confirmed when you hear the unmistakable sound of sticks slapping against pucks and ice coming from the iPad in question.

They’re both so engrossed in the game film on the screen that they have no clue that you’ve even walked through the door. You make your way to the kitchen to unload what’s in your hands, putting away what little groceries you bought. Once you’re finished in the kitchen, you make your way back out into the living room, wanting to catch up with your roommates on how their midday practice had gone. As you walk towards the living area, rounding the loveseat adjacent to the sectional where the boys sit, Luke catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye. His body jerks slightly, clearly startled until he notices its only you.

“Oh my god you just scared the shit out of me,” you hear him exhale, holding his hand to his chest.

You just chuckle as you see Jack whip his head up, confused as to what Luke was referring to until he saw you sitting down, tucking your feet up under your legs to get comfortable.

“When did you get home? Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asks, pausing the game film and sitting the iPad on the small coffee table in the center of the room.

“No, you two were just lost in hockey land when I came in. I went to the corner mart a few blocks down to get stuff to make dinner, then put it all away before coming in here. Thought I’d give you guys a few more minutes before I came in here and interrupted,” you replied, resting your chin on your hands that are placed on the arm of the loveseat.

“Well, you have our full attention now. What’s up?” Jack leans back into the couch once again, stretching his arms above his head.

“Just wanted to talk to my boys. See how practice went today. Figure out how you guys are going to fare against the Rags,” you throw in a small dig at their biggest rival team.

“The Rags? Since when do you participate in hockey talk?” Luke chimes into the conversation, laughing slightly at your attempt to assimilate into the world of hockey.

“Since I overheard a conversation at this cute little bakery down the street. While I was waiting in line there was a man in front of me with a Devils hat on and the guy working the counter was asking him about his thoughts on the game this week. He was talking about how much he wishes ‘the boys can pull their heads out of their asses and beat the damn Rags’ and I thought it was funny. Figured I should probably adopt the local vernacular if I want to fit in around here. You know, participate in the Jersey talk,” you recall with a shrug of your shoulders.

The two brothers let out a little chuckle at your story, amused at your attempt to insert yourself into their world. The two of them and Quinn taught you a lot about how hockey is played and the rules over the years, but their hope of you fully getting involved in all of the aspects of hockey and the fanbase quickly dissolved. They would sit and force you to watch reruns of games with them over the summer at the lake, and you would sit there and whine because of how badly you wanted to go out on the boat or drive the golf cart down to the local ice cream shop, not listening to a single word the trio would say to you. Once you made the decision to move in with the two youngest brothers, you figured you should probably put a little more effort into the whole hockey fan experience, considering you would likely be attending games on a regular basis.

“Well, we’ve been preparing for the Rags, so that old man in the bakery can rest easy knowing we’re working our asses off, which our heads aren’t in, by the way,” Jack speaks, correcting the stranger’s statement.

“Yeah, we’re doing really well, actually. We keep splitting the team up and forcing one half to mimic the Rangers and some of their techniques, so we’re actually getting really good at stopping them from getting the puck into our zone. Plus, our goalies are putting out some insane stops during practice, so I really think we’ve got this in the bag,” Luke adds, excited to showcase their hard work.

You’ve noticed that practices must have been hard for the boys this week. A lot of naps and ibuprofen consumed. You haven’t really seen much of them, if you’re being honest. They’re usually gone by the time you wake up in the mornings and so tired by the time they come home that they go straight to the couch or their bedrooms and fall asleep. By the time they wake up from their naps you’re usually already cooking dinner, at least getting to chat a bit while you cook. After finishing dinner they’re back to the couch, watching game film or heading back to the arena for various events and strategy meetings. They go to bed fairly early, considering all of their early morning starts, so evenings are usually spent in your room by yourself watching tv or catching up with your friends back home. You suppose you should get used to spending time by yourself, though, knowing you’ll be here by yourself more often than not during the season.

They had a game in Boston a few days prior, leaving you with your apartment to yourself for the first time in the two weeks you’ve lived with them. They were only gone for one night, but it was definitely lonely. You really haven’t been here long enough to have an abundance of people to call up anytime Jack and Luke were unavailable, so you had passed the time by exploring the area around your apartment complex a little, finding the perfect park to go sit at to soak up some much-needed sunshine. You couldn’t hide your excitement when the two brothers returned home the next evening, though. You got up from the couch and ran over to the door, ready to greet them and ask them all about the game (you had watched it on tv, but you really just wanted to talk to someone after a full day with no one’s company but your own), but you were greeted with tired eyes and frowns, despite their win the previous night. You simply gave each of them a hug and then sent them off to bed, knowing once they got some sleep they would be up for conversation.

This is why, right now, even though you have zero knowledge of what preparing for a rival hockey game consists of, you’re taking in every word the two have to offer about the subject. You’re just happy to have a few uninterrupted minutes to sit and talk with them.

“Good! That’s great! Really…good,” you say, giving a thumbs up and awkward smile after failing to come up with a better response to Luke’s statements.

Luke just laughs, appreciating your attempts at interest in their jobs.

“You’re coming to the game, right? We put back a ticket for you, but if you can’t make it that’s okay, too. Got you a pretty sick seat, though. Glass seat, right beside the net,” Jack reveals, raising his eyebrows a bit, as if trying to convince you.

“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you exclaim, a little offended at the mere thought you’d skip out on such a big game for them.

“You won’t be disappointed, I swear. We’re gonna kick some major Rags ass,” Luke adds, excitement showing at the idea of you being in the crowd.

“The real question here shouldn’t be if I’m coming to the game or not. It’s whose jersey am I going to wear?” you throw out, poking fun at the two.

“Pshh, c’mon that one’s a no brainer. You’ll obviously wear mine, I’m your favorite,” Jack waves off your words, fully confident that you’ll agree with him.

“I don’t know, Rowdy. I feel like plenty of people will have 86 jerseys on. It is Moose’s rookie season, maybe I should wear his so he feels included.”

“Yeah, dickhead. You have a whole arena full of people wearing your number, she should wear mine. We all know it’s the better number anyways,” Luke retorts.

Jack rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to fire back an insult at Luke, but he’s cut off by a knock at the door. You look over at the two boys to see if they know who might be at the door, but both of their faces mirror your confused look. So much for your uninterrupted time with them.

“Did you guys invite someone over? Or should I be worried that there’s a murderer standing on the other side of our door right now,” you ask.

“Well first of all I don’t think a murderer would knock on the door. They would probably pick the lock or something. Isn’t the whole point of murdering someone to do it when they don’t see it coming?” Jack responds, standing up. “Second of all, it’s probably just Nico. I had mentioned watching game film together at practice earlier and he told me he’d see how he was feeling later. Kinda forgot about it, if I’m being honest, but this is around the time he wakes up from his post-practice nap.”

You sit up a little straighter when Jack mentions his teammate and captain. You hadn’t seen him since your first night in town about two weeks ago. You’d caught little bits of information about him in passing from both Jack and Luke, but tried to keep your questions about him to a minimum. The two of you were still practically strangers, not having had any reason to communicate after that night. You assume he’s been as busy as Jack and Luke, coming and going far more than you. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t even run into him once. You figure his captain duties keep him far busier than even Luke and Jack.

You hear the front door open and then two sets of voices making their way down the short hallway. You look over to see Nico in a hoodie and sweats, a hat hiding his long hair. You think back to that night at the bar when his hair was uncovered and he was having to push it out of his eyes for most of the night, wishing you could catch a glimpse of the brown locks right now. The two were continuing their short conversation from the door, so Nico had yet to acknowledge you or Luke yet. You look away, starting to pick at a loose thread on your socks, knowing you needed to avert your eyes before you were caught staring.

Unknown to you, Luke had already noticed your stare, observing how fixated you were on his captain. You look over to find Luke staring at you, an undecipherable expression on his face. You give him a puzzled look, as if to say ‘what?’ and he responds by simply shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Oh, hey you two. How’s it going?” Nico’s voice pulls you from your silent conversation with Luke, noticing Jack was no longer next to him.

“Hey, man. How was your nap? Your shoulder okay?” Luke asks him, adjusting his body slightly on the couch to make room for Nico to sit down.

You turn your head to look at Nico once again, a small hint of worry surfacing. He doesn’t look injured? His arm isn’t in a sling or anything, and he’s not holding it in pain. You watch as he sits down to see if even the smallest wince makes its way across his face as his back comes to rest against the plush cushions. If he’s in any sort of pain, he’s not letting it show in his actions.

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Don’t give yourself that much credit, kid. You don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you do,” Nico chuckles, taking his hand and tapping Luke on the knee a few times.

“Trying to hurt your captain before a huge game, Luke?” you speak for the first time since Nico entered the apartment. “Maybe I should wear Jack’s jersey on Saturday.”

“I knew it! See, my jersey is clearly the better choice, Moose. Sucks to suck, huh?” Jack interjects with a grin, walking from the direction of the kitchen, glass of water in hand.

“Now c’mon, Y/N, that isn’t even fair. It was an accident!” Luke cries out. “We were running drills and I was trying to stop, but I misjudged and ran into Nico. He didn’t even hit the glass that hard, you heard him!”he argues, looking between you and his brother.

“All I’m saying is, it won’t look good if the rookie is the reason the captain can’t play against public enemy number one. Then you’ll become public enemy number one, and I can’t be caught at a game wearing the new public enemy’s jersey. I’m already a newcomer, I can’t tarnish my reputation this early,” you hold your hands up in defense.

“What have I just walked into?” Nico asks, eyes darting between the three of you.

“Well, right before you walked in, we were talking about which jersey Y/N was going to wear to the game on Saturday. I told her the obvious choice was mine, but she decided to spew some bullshit about there being too many 86 jerseys already, so she should wear Luke’s since he’s new and needs to feel included,” Jack uses finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

“Well, she has a point.”

“See! Even Cap thinks so! That’s it, you’re wearing my jersey, Y/N. Cap’s word is final,” Luke leans back, taking in his assumed victory.

Your mind wanders back to Nico’s words he spoke to you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, wondering if Luke’s statement includes those words, too.

“Maybe I should be fair and not wear either jersey. Just go down the roster and pick a random name and then buy it,” you joke, watching the brothers widen their eyes like you just told them you ran over their childhood pet.

“That’s…not even funny. How dare you even joke about something so important,” Jack stares at you, seriousness painted on his features.

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s just…that’s just cruel,” Luke emphasizes the last word dramatically.

“I think you should do it. In fact, I have a spare jersey I think you can wear,” Nico adds, looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“Oh, well that actually sounds lovely, Nico, thank you! What better way to show my support at my first Devils game than sporting the captain’s jersey?”

Jack and Luke both turn their heads to glare at their captain sitting between them. If looks could kill, the poor Swiss man would be six feet under right now. The Hughes brothers don’t play around when it comes to their jerseys. You remember when you had gone to one of Luke’s games while he was playing for Michigan, wanting to buy a Michigan jersey in support, but the gift shop had run out of Luke’s number once he announced his contract with the Devils. You knew you could have simply asked him for a jersey, knowing he had several lying around his dorm room, but the trip was supposed to be a surprise.

You were forced to buy a random jersey with some lesser known last name on it, because you still wanted to show up in Michigan attire. You don’t even remember whose name and number it was, but you remember the look on Luke’s face when he saw you during warm ups, going from pure joy to disgust in seconds. He skated off, going to the locker room briefly before returning with a yellow Jersey that he then threw over the glass to your seat, motioning for you to put it on. You just laughed and did as you were told. You’ve had similar arguments with both Jack and Quinn over threatening to wear a teammates jersey over the years, but you just like to poke fun at how protective the three are over you. Jack explained to you that they want you to wear their jersey’s because it shows their teammates that you’re to be left alone, knowing the reputations of their fellow players.

“Cap, please don’t make me kick you out of this apartment right now,” Jack looks at Nico with complete seriousness.

“Maybe I need to work on my body checks in practice tomorrow, Cap,” Luke tries to threaten.

Nico simply laughs, shaking his head at the sudden unity between the two bickering brothers.

“Alright, chill out you two, all jokes. Unless…” You trail off, standing up.

“No, no unless. You’re wearing one of our jerseys, preferably mine. Hey! Where are you going, this is serious!” Jack yells after you as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Unless you want to starve tonight, someone has to start making dinner. Plus, I have some jersey shopping to do,” you say, hearing Nico’s laughter ringing out once more as you enter the kitchen.

———————————————————————————

“Hey, Nico! Are you staying for dinner? I need to know how much pasta to make!” you shout from your spot by the stove, having just sat down a large pot of water on the hot eye.

You walk over to the cabinet to grab the box of pasta and a couple jars of sauce, waiting for an answer from the living room. You decided to go with just simple spaghetti and salad tonight, not really in the mood for having to prep a ton of food and spend an hour and a half cooking. Jack will probably complain about the amount of carbs he’s consuming, but he’ll get over it. As if he doesn’t burn enough calories from practice and his personal workouts he does on a daily basis. Luke will just be happy to have something that isn’t chicken, seeing as that’s all you made for the first few days of your new living arrangement, trying to stick to the meal plan Jack had the nutritionist send you.

After the third night of some form of chicken and vegetables, Luke was quick to inform you that no one on the team follows the meal plan so strictly. You also learned that Jack is going through some phase of eating nothing but chicken or steak and brown rice, Luke revealing that’s what the two mostly lived on during the weeks leading up to your move. You had told Luke he should learn to cook for himself, and then he wouldn’t be forced to eat what Jack or you decide to make if he doesn’t like it, but he had rolled his eyes and told you “this was the agreement, right? We won’t let you pay rent, so you told us you would contribute by cooking. So really, I’m just helping you fulfill your roommate duties.”

You still don’t have an answer from the three in the living room. You figure they’re too busy with game film to hear you, so you decide to just make enough for Nico, too. You can always pack up the leftovers and have them for lunch the next few days if needed. You dump what you think to be the proper amount of pasta for four people into the pot once it reaches a boil, then work on pouring the sauce into a pan to let it heat up. You cheated on the salad, too, deciding to just buy two bags of salad mix, dumping the bag into a large bowl and adding the small packets of toppings. You’ve just dumped the now done pasta into the colander in the sink, turning to put the pot back onto the stove to cool off a bit when a voice causes you to nearly drop the hot pot in your hands.

“It smells delicious in here,” Nico announces his presence, walking through the doorway towards the fridge.

You settle yourself before setting the pot down safely on the stovetop before speaking. “You know, I really need to get on ordering those squeaky shoes if I want to avoid a heart attack by 25.”

Turning your body, you see Nico hunched over looking in the fridge, arm reaching towards a water bottle before raising up, flashing you a smile.

“Nah, even if you buy them I wouldn’t wear them. This is like, our thing now. Me sneaking up on you, you getting mad, me getting a good laugh out of it,” he stands back at his full height now.

“How comforting that you find enjoyment out of my jumpiness. Such an admirable trait to have,” you grumble, taking the pasta from the sink and transfer it into the pan filled with sauce. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, seeing as it looks like I made enough to feed the entire team, but I think I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself. See how funny that is.”

This earns another laugh, Nico moving to lean against the counter opposite of you, watching you try to combine the sauce and the pasta without making a giant mess.

“Why don’t you just put it back in the pot you cooked the pasta in. You’ll be able to mix it easier.”

“Because apparently that would have been too easy,” you step back and huff, wondering why you didn’t think of that before you created an overflowing mess of sauce and noodles.

Nico makes his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the way. He picks up the pan and dumps the contents into the pot sitting next to it, not spilling a single drop.

“There, now you can mix it easier and it won’t spill out over the sides and cause an even bigger mess,” he states, placing the dirty pan in the sink behind you.

“Okay, captain chef, next time you’re cooking dinner, since you clearly have more kitchen skills than me,” you tell him, making your way across the kitchen to collect plates to sit on the table.

Nico just chuckles as he watches you grab the plates, sitting one in front of each chair around the small dining table that sits in the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here, please tell me its almost done,” Jack enters the kitchen, Luke trailing behind him.

“It is, just finished actually,” you look up, Nico carrying the pot of steaming pasta from the stove to the table, careful not to drop it.

“Rowdy, grab the salad over there by the sink for me while I grab some forks for everyone,” you move towards the silverware drawer, walking around the Swiss man in your kitchen, having to turn your body slightly as he steps back from the table.

“Well, I better get going, my leftovers aren’t going to heat themselves up,” Nico announces, starting to make his way out of the kitchen.

“Cap, are you crazy? Do you not see how much food Bouy made?” Jack places the bowl of salad next to the pot of pasta, taking his seat at the table.

“Jack, I’m being so serious right now, if you keep using that stupid nickname for me I will sneak laxatives into your protein shakes.” You take the seat across from Jack, Luke falling into the seat to your left.

“Well, as long as it’s okay with Bouy, I’d love to stay.” Nico walks back over to the table, taking the seat next to Jack, smirking while avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know where you live, so the threat extends to you too, Cap” you glare at Nico.

The rest of the meal is mostly filled with talk between the three hockey players, you chiming in here and there, until Jack shifts the topic of conversation to you.

“So, what’s the update with your new job? You have everything lined up and ready to go?”

“Yeah, talked to them earlier today, actually. They said they’d have my office ready in about a week, so I should be starting not long after that.” You shrug, not wanting to bore them with the details of the corporate scene in New Jersey.

“Where are you going to be working?” Nico asks, genuine interest present in his tone, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I got offered a position with a small publishing company not too far from here, actually. Mostly independent, up and coming authors, but still exciting,” you reveal, perking up a bit at the opportunity to talk about your passion.

“Was super worried I wasn’t going to be able to use my degree after college, seeing as the market for English lit degrees isn’t too wide unless you want to teach. At least, that’s how it is back home. After I graduated and Jack offered the spare room here, I applied to a few positions here in Jersey and a few in New York, willing to make the commute if needed. Only heard back from one place, though. And it just so happened to be a thirty-minute drive from here, so I accepted and started packing,” you explained.

“It was meant to be. The gang back together once again,” Jack beams.

“Well, the gang minus Quinn. The fucker just had to end up in Vancouver of all places,” Luke grumbles, still upset the oldest Hughes is so far away.

“Lucky for us I can work remotely if I ever need or want to, so this summer at the lake we can all be together again,” you try to cheer Luke up, knowing how much he wishes the three brothers could have played on the same team while making their dreams come true.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack celebrates. “This is going to be the best summer at the lake house yet. We’re all grown, most of us legal drinking age, but don’t worry, we won’t tell if you won’t, Lukey,” Jack winks over at Luke, knowing the underage drinking rule has never really applied in the sacred space of the lake houses, “and we’ll all finally be there together again after, what, like 6 years?”

“It’s been awhile, at least that long,” you try to think back to the last time everyone was there together.

It was the summer before Quinn got drafted. Quinn had signed to play hockey at Michigan a few months before everyone was set to arrive at the summer oasis. You remember being so proud of him. You couldn’t wait to finally see him and congratulate him in person, knowing how hard he had worked for it. You figured things would stay the same for a few more years, expecting him to come home every summer for the next four years before moving on to the NHL. You had no clue that he would be drafted only a summer later and that it would be the beginning of the end for the summers of fun at the lake house.

“Nico, you should come up this summer! It’s always such a good time!” Jack pulls you from your reminiscing.

“I mean, maybe. I’ve been talking to my parents about flying home during the off season this year, since I didn’t make it over there last year. But I could probably come for a few days, at least,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You try to picture Nico at the lake house, hat covering his hair, swim trunks and a t-shirt covering his body. You picture him lounging on the boat in the sun while Jack takes everyone out for a midday ride, finding a secluded spot somewhere on the lake to stop and swim for a while. You picture him trying to wake surf, wondering if he’d be instantly good at it or if he would end up wiping out in the water. You picture him sitting around the fire at night, a light hoodie on to the mask the chill that never fails to make an appearance on Michigan summer nights, the glow from the fire illuminating his face just enough for you to admire him. You picture him with a slight sunburn on his nose, tan skin glowing from being in the sun so often.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for longer than you realized, because you came back to the conversation with several calls of your name from the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to us anymore? Or do you really not want Cap coming to the lake house?” Luke looks over at you, slightly waving his hand in front of your face.

“What? No,” you say, looking around at the expectant faces surrounding you. “I mean, no I don’t care if he comes. It would be fun, yeah. If he can make it, of course. You heard him, I’m sure he’s excited to see his family.”

“I’m sure I can work something out. Have the best of both worlds. These two have talked about the infamous lake house so much I’m curious to see if it really lives up to all the hype,” Nico leans back, nodding his head towards both Jack and Luke.

“Then its settled! Cap is coming to Michigan this summer!” Jack cheers, throwing his arms up in celebration.

You laugh in response to Jack’s excitement, noticing that everyone seems to be done eating, plates clean and glasses empty. You stand up and start to take some of the dishes to the sink, setting them in there before walking back over to the table.

“Since you’re in such a good mood, I think now would be the best time to tell you that you and Luke have dish duty tonight.” You clear the last of the dishes off the table.

You watch Jack’s face fall, while Luke’s does a sharp turn in your direction. You turn your back to them to walk back over to the counter, opening the cabinet below you to find Tupperware to store the leftovers in.

“On that note, I better get going. Have some laundry I need to get done before practice in the morning,” Nico stands, bringing over a few stray pieces of silverware you seemed to have missed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Cap. You heard her, she cooked, we clean,” Jack turns to look at his captain as he makes his way to the sink.

“No, I said you and Luke have dish duty tonight. Nico’s name was never mentioned. Guests don’t do the dishes, Jack. I know Ellen raised you better than that.”

“Nico is hardly a guest. He’s over here all the time!” Luke chimes in, opening one of the drawers by the sink, grabbing a towel to dry dishes with.

“He doesn’t pay any rent for the apartment, therefore he’s a guest. Just accept your fate, you two. You’ll survive, I promise.” You hand the pot you just emptied to Jack, taking the food in your hands to the fridge a few steps away.

“You don’t pay any rent, and you’re not a guest,” Jack mumbles, hands covered in soapy suds.

“Exactly! That means I don’t do the dishes, either. I knew you’d catch on eventually! And they say you’re just a pretty face,” you shut the fridge door, looking over at Jack with an amused grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jack whines.

“C’mon, man, you walked right into that one,” Nico adds, laughing at his teammate.

Jack glares at the taller man. “I thought you said you were leaving, that you had laundry to do or some shit.”

“I am, I am,” Nico throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll walk you out, Nico. Leave the children to pout while doing their chores,” you jest, walking toward the kitchen’s exit.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N. Ten times better than whatever I would’ve found in my fridge,” Nico says as you pass through the living room.

“Anytime, Cap,” you use his title, blaming Jack and Luke for the new habit. “After all, I owed you for rescuing me from sleeping in the hallway.”

This earns another one of those laughs you love to hear fall from his mouth, smiling to yourself as he follows you down the small hallway towards the front door.

“I feel like you definitely had to put in more effort on your end of that deal,” he steps through the door you’re holding open.

“I’ll just wait until you owe me a favor, then I’ll make sure to cash in some extravagant request,” you joke, leaning against the door as he stands in the hallway.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

Nico takes his apartment key from his pocket and unlocks his door, opening it and stepping inside, turning around to face you once again, his stance mirroring your own in his own doorway.

“So, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday, then?” He stalls a goodbye.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Still deciding which brother I’m going to piss off,” you reference the earlier argument over whose jersey you’ll wear.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Nico says before propping his door open, leaving you alone in your doorway, confused as to where he could’ve gone.

After about a minute of you standing there, wondering if he was going to come back, he returns, holding a red jersey in his hand.

“Here, figured there’s no sense in you going out and buying one if you really wanted to mess with their heads.”

He hands you the jersey, stepping back into his doorway. You unfold the jersey and notice the big black C on the upper left corner of the jersey. It was a solid red jersey, the team’s symbol in the middle, two black stripes on the forearms of each sleeve, more black accents on the shoulders of the jersey. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“I- I can’t take one of your jerseys, Nico. What if I mess it up, or spill something on it? I’ll just wear one of the ones I have. This looks too nice to risk it,” you attempt to hand the jersey back across the hallway.

“No, I insist. I think it’ll be fun to mess around with them a little. Especially Jack, since he seemed so convinced you were going to wear his. They’ll never even see it coming,” Nico refuses.

You run the idea through your head for a second, thinking about how it would be a funny little dig at the boys. You also think about the implications of wearing a jersey that doesn’t belong to one of Hughes brothers. It’s harmless, though, right? Nico said it was just a fun way to get under their skin. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Y/N’ you think to yourself, trying to kick your habit of creative narratives in your head.

“Okay, but if I end up getting kicked out of my apartment I’m knocking on your door to sleep on your couch,” you finally agree.

“My door’s always open for you.”

You look back down to the jersey in your hands to hide the blush that appears on your face at his words. You know you’ve only known him for a short period of time, tonight being the first real chunk of time you’ve spent in his presence, but Nico is making it really hard for you to keep your feelings for him casual. You’ve always had a habit of getting a case of the heart eyes fast, but you’re trying to be normal, for once.

He’s likely just being his normal, personable self and you’re letting every smile and joke go to your head, placing more meaning on them than is warranted. There’s just something about him, though. He’s extremely attractive, for one. But it’s more than that. From all that you’ve learned about him through Jack and Luke, and the easy conversation that has flowed between the two of you from the moment you first spoke to him in the hallway, you can’t lie to yourself and say you’re not drawn to the Swiss captain.

Your mind circles back to the idea of wearing his jersey this weekend and what Jack and Luke will think. What if you seriously hurt their feelings? What if it affects how they play because they’re mad at you? What if they ignore you the whole game? You know the two brothers love you, but you also know how petty they can both be when mad.

“Stop overthinking it. I can see you getting lost up in that head of yours. It’s a harmless joke. They’re not going to freak out on the ice or anything. And if they do, I’m in more danger than you are,” Nico reassures you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You better at least score a goal if I’m risking being homeless for you,” you tell him, looking back up at his face.

“How about I do you one better. If you promise to wear my jersey, I’ll score a hatty for your first ever New Jersey Devils hockey experience,” Nico offers, his eyes flashing with something you assume is delight at a challenge.

“Well then you better work on your slapshot tomorrow morning, Captain. I’ll be holding you to that Saturday night,” you take the bait, knowing how difficult a hat trick is to pull off.

“No need, I know I’ll have the right motivation night of to get it done,” he winks at you, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. “And if I don’t, consider it your IOU for that extravagant request you might need one day,” He responds, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, the nonchalance of his body language making you hope for his failure, just so you can think of some ridiculous task for him to perform.

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll get right to brainstorming,” you respond, trying to prevent your thoughts from spiraling yet again.

Nico lets out a small laugh, standing up straight and placing his hand on the handle of his door. “Think hard. Let me know what you come up with. Have a good night, Bouy, see you Saturday.” He shuts the door before you can berate him for using the nickname you hate.

You walk back into your apartment, door shutting behind you, going straight to your room to hide the jersey before either of the boys see it. You think back on the entire interaction, a smile on your face at the possibility of being able to have Nico do anything you ask him. As you’re walking past the kitchen you hear Jack’s voice.

“Luke, am I stupid or did Y/N call me stupid earlier?” he recalls your earlier comment about him being ‘just a pretty face’.

“Think about how you worded the first part of your question and you’ll have your answer,” you hear Luke respond as you make it past the kitchen unnoticed, making you stifle a giggle so you won’t be discovered.

Oh how you loved being back with your boys.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄

summary: coming home after a stressful week, you're practically dead on your feet and ready to fall asleep then and there. luckily, your boyfriend's got you covered.

pairing: tattoo artist! scara x gn! reader

a/n: fluff/slice of life; betcha didn't see this one coming, contrary to popular belief this au is still alive; at the request of many, here is more soft modern au scara (not proofread bc it's almost 3 am and we don't question that)

modern au masterlist || genshin masterlist

With heavy feet you dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, hand coming up to cover a yawn every other step. Your week had been a stressful one, leaving you with little time for chores, hobbies or seeing your boyfriend, and you were just about ready to fall into bed immediately.

When you cracked open the door, the first thing you noticed was the light coming from the living room and kitchen. Did you leave them on this morning? Crap, that wouldn’t help your electricity bills.

But then you also heard shuffling and the clatter of plates and cutlery, which caught your attention. Not expecting an intruder to make themselves at home in your kitchen, you calmly kicked off your shoes, expecting to be met with the sight of an unmistakable bob cut and familiar silver piercings working away on your countertop. From under the neckline of his black shirt you could make out the top of the tattoo decorating his nape.

The hands currently plating what appeared to be your dinner -one of your favourites, you noted- twitched momentarily when you launched a sneak attack, wrapping your arms around Scara’s waist from behind. His surprise was gone just as quickly though, and from where your head rested against his back, you could feel him huff just as well as you could hear him.

”It would suit you right if I dropped your plate, you know,” Scara scolded you, though his bark lacked any and every spark of bite. Peeking around him to check if his hands were empty, you took the opportunity to plant a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck, feeling his skin go hot under lips immediately.

“Sorry, but I’m tired and I haven’t seen my lovely boyfriend allllll week, I couldn’t help myself,” you mumbled into his tattoo, not quite ready to part with him yet. “I missed you.”

“…I missed you, too, idiot,” your boyfriend sighed, pronouncing the nickname the same way someone else might call you ‘darling’. “C’mon, if you let go of me for a minute, you can change clothes and sit on the couch sooner, alright?”

That was how you knew Scara was aware of how beat you were. Eating on the couch was reserved for special occasions only, but it always put you in a better mood immediately. There was only one problem.

“Listen, Scara, I haven’t been able to do much cleaning this week. The state of my couch—“

“-has already been taken care of.” The way he finished your sentence was all the clues you needed to know he was rolling his eyes at you. “If you’d stop imitating a thistle you’d also know that.”

Detaching yourself from him, you took in your living room for the first time since coming home and almost didn’t recognise it from when you left it this morning. While your offences throughout the week hadn’t been major in and of themselves, over the course of a week, all the items you had discarded on the nearest surface while rushing through had piled up.

Now, however, you couldn’t have guessed you ever left it in that state, all your belongings back where they were usually to be found. Setting the plates down on the cleared coffee table, Scara picked something up from the couch and threw it at you before you could even reel in your mind long enough to thank him. Somehow you actually managed to catch the dark blue hoodie with frantic hands.

“I’m taking some of my others back, but you can keep that one for now. God forbid you wear your own shit for once.” Knowing him well enough, it was no secret to you that he actually loved giving you his clothes, the glint of bashful pride in his eyes betraying him every time. Plopping down on the couch, he turned to look back at you, hands making shooing motions towards your bedroom. “Go wash up and change before the food gets cold.”

However brash Scara’s words may sound to others, your heart fluttered all the way up to the smile that tugged at your lips. Clutching the fabric to your chest, you rushed to the bathroom to speed through your routine and change into comfy pants. As soon as you poked your head through the neckline of his hoodie, a familiar scent enveloped you and for the first time in what felt like forever, you found yourself calming down for good.

When you returned to the living room, you found that Scara had already flipped through the streaming service to the show you watched together but hadn’t managed to catch up on.

Handing you your dinner, you ate in comfortable silence, save for one or the other sarcastic comment Scara had to offer.

With your plates empty and back on the table, it didn’t take you long to crawl over to your boyfriend, cuddling up to where he occupied the corner of the couch. Only minimal complaints later were you resting with your head against his chest, legs tangled together over the length of the couch. The hand that wasn’t holding you close by the waist was instead running up and down your spine in soothing motions and it had you yawning into his neck more than once, eyes fluttering shut against your will.

“If you’re tired just go to sleep,” Scara mumbled into the crown of your head, shifting slightly so you could rest against him more snugly. “You worked hard this week, don’t force yourself.”

“But I wanna spend more time with you,” you drowsily answered into the material of his hoodie. 

“Hah, you really are an idiot,” he sighed once more, but not even your half-asleep self could miss the thumb gently stroking over your cheek. “I’m off work tomorrow, so dream about what you wanna do. Now go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I love you,” came your hushed reply as you held onto him tighter.

You didn’t feel the kiss placed carefully against the top of your head or hear the whisper filled with affection, but they must have followed you into your dreams, for they were sweeter than any.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit. do not feed my writing to an ai.

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[cuubism]

Little Math AU drabble

--

Dream doesn't realize, until Hob goes away for a conference over a long weekend, the degree to which his only form of self-care has become Hob. Hob encourages him to eat, and to get enough sleep, and to leave the house. With Hob absent he's found himself crouched on the floor for the twentieth hour in a row, bent awkwardly over his white board where he's laid it flat after getting tired of standing, scribbling furiously upside down while trying not to smudge any of the writing, several cups of half-finished coffee and piles of notes around him. He doesn't realize how much time has passed until he hears the front door open quietly and Hob creep in, setting his bag down carefully by the door.

The fact that Hob feels the need to tiptoe into his own flat at noon for fear Dream might still be sleeping should probably be a red flag for Dream in terms of his own sleep schedule. As it is he's too preoccupied by the fact that if Hob is home that means it must be Tuesday. He had not thought it was Tuesday.

Hob stops abruptly as he reaches the living room, staring down at Dream where he's frozen, balanced on all fours over his white board with one marker in his hand and another color held in his mouth.

"You look like something I'd not like to meet in the woods at night," Hob says. "How can you even balance like that?"

Dream tries to extract himself from his twisted position without smudging his writing or falling over. He mostly manages it and gets to his feet, shoulders popping loudly, swaying as all the blood rushes from his head. "I didn't want to smudge the writing."

"Let's get it off the floor, then," Hob says, and helps him set the whiteboard back upright. This makes some of the text upside down. Hob tilts his head trying to read it.

"I solved it," Dream tells him. Now that he's stopped thinking about it, and started thinking about Hob instead, he couldn't possibly explain what he solved. He's been thinking about it for thirty-six hours. Possibly he needs to stop thinking about it now.

"No clue what this says," Hob says. "But I believe you."

He turns to Dream then, taking Dream's face between his hands and giving him a kiss. Dream hums, leaning into him.

"How was the conference?" he asks.

"Oh, delightful, they had an open bar. S'the only thing that saved it, really."

Dream is aware that Hob doesn't particularly enjoy academic conferences as they usually involve much sitting around and listening to slow presentations. He smiles to imagine Hob coping with the unbearable dullness by having altogether too many drinks in the hotel bar. "A terrible ordeal, I'm sure."

"Mmm. Missed you." He runs his fingers through Dream's hair, drawing him closer. "When's the last time you slept?"

"How could you--"

Hob chuckles. "You look like death."

Ah. Dream frowns, thinking. "...Sunday. Perhaps. I was... preoccupied."

"You know if you sleep your brain will have time to process the information and you might solve it faster," Hob tells him. Hob is becoming far too advanced, Dream thinks. He's graduated from simply telling Dream sleep is good for him to citing manipulative reasons that Dream might actually be compelled to agree with.

"Next time I'll call you each night and tell you a bedtime story," Hob says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "But only if you sleep."

Of course, there is also the bribery.

Dream swallows. He has missed Hob. "Or perhaps now?"

Hob laughs. "Oh, darling." He slips his hand under Dream's shirt. "You at least have to eat something first. Did you eat anything at all while I was away?"

"Coffee," Dream says. And a lot of it.

"Dream, I left you food in the fridge."

"I was preoccupied," Dream insists.

"I'll need to create some kind of rewards system for you, like for the rats that press the lever," Hob muses. "Only the food is the task instead of the reward."

"What is the reward, then?" Dream asks.

Hob just winks.

"How will that work if you are not here?" Dream asks, frowning.

Hob takes Dream's hips in his hands. "Mmm, I'm sure we can figure it out."

Hob's voice in his ear might well inspire Dream to set aside his work. It is one of the only things that can.

"In the meantime, you need to eat something," Hob tells him, and kisses him on the cheek, and Dream knows that, exhausted from traveling or not, Hob will make him something to eat, and get him to shower and take care of himself, and then, when they've slept, will listen to Dream talking extensively about the proof he's solved, no matter that he doesn't understand it himself.

(Hob always says he's incapable of understanding it, but Dream does not think that's true. Dream is just not very good at explaining his reasoning; it's so intuitive to him that he forgets the steps necessary to make it clear to anyone else. But then, Hob often underestimates himself.)

Hob listens to him describe it anyway. Takes care of him. And he does the same now, takes Dream into the kitchen to have some water while Hob cooks him some pasta. He always takes such good care of Dream.

And Dream thinks, while sitting on the counter and watching, hazy from exhaustion and full of warmth, that one day he's going to marry him.