#granted he did like me for so long I’m just dumb unfortunately

[kavehater]

Stop ……. Rodrick from diary of a wimpy kid …

[kiame-sama]

Twisted Wonderland Monsterverse AU?

What monsters do you think each of the characters would be? (With the exception of the Beastmen, Mermen and Fae Characters since they’re technically monsters already)

These are a few ideas on what I think some of the characters might be (You can change these, since I’m mainly guessing)

I can definitely see Jamil as a Naga

Kalim makes me think of an Otter (So cute and adorable that you can forget that Otters are dangerous)

I feel like Vil would probably be a Harpy, specifically a Peacock Harpy (Very pretty, confident and can be aggressive)

Rook would probably also be a Harpy, specifically one of the Birds of Prey (He’s a Hunter after all) like a Peregrine Falcon or a species of Eagle

Idia would a God of Death, the Dead and Ruler of the Underworld and Ortho either being a Soul or Cerberus(?)

I feel like Silver would either be Human, Bear or a Bird, like a Barn Owl (They’re very cute)

Did most characters, some are more than a little obvious (given they are already creatures in Twisted Wonderland anyway).

Divus is a Selkie and is very protective over his fur.

Sam is a Shadow man (we all saw that coming).

Vargas is a minotaur.

Trein is a sphinx.

Crowley is a Crow Fae (obviously).

Ace is a Satyr and thinks playing the pan flute is dumb.

Deuce is a Faun- basically a Satyr with better horns and a stronger sense of justice, known for helping lost travelers.

Cater is a water nymph and is often seen bothering Trey while he is resting in the waters of the lake of Heartslabyul.

Che'nya is a Bakeneko- cat creature that typically symbolizes bad luck. I think he would have two tails or a forked tail.

Trey is a Kelpie centaur and often seen with Riddle as they are good friends, or Cater riding around on his back despite the usual warning that comes with trying to ride a Kelpie.

Riddle is a unicorn centaur and he hates that so many tease him about being a 'girly' creature. Very gifted with magic and extremely proud, his mother was very strict about Riddle being the perfect unicorn growing up.

Jack is a Werewolf.

Ruggie is a Gnoll.

Leona is a Nemean Lion.

Azul is a Cecaelia- basically what he is now, an octo-merman.

Jade and Floyd are Eel Mermen (predictably).

Kalim is a Genie that genuinely wants to help people and grant wishes but always winds up granting wishes that have unfortunate unforseen consequences.

Jamil is definitely a Naga, but he is the Naga that protects Kalim's lamp and treasure since Kalim is a Genie from a long line of powerful Genies.

I agree that Vil is a Peacock Harpy. He loves to preen and make a show of fanning out his tail-feathers, very proud and wickedly smart.

Neige is a mourning dove Harpy.

Rook is a Drider- spider centaur- specifically a Huntsman-Spider Drider who is a master of spinning web traps and even hunting down his prey, as Huntsman-spiders (usually the males) are voracious wandering predators. (I headcannon all Driders can spin webs)

Epel is a wood nymph, specifically of the Apple tree variety.

Idia is a Shinigami. Technically still a death-god and likely a high ranking death-god given he is already descendant of a high ranking family.

Ortho is also a Shinigami, he is still the little brother of Idia despite what happened to him, so I'm saying he is still a Shinigami.

Silver is a Cervitaur- a Deer centaur- and is just starting to get more prongs on his horns, which Lilia is absolutely thrilled with and often teases Silver about.

Lilia is a Bat Fae.

Malleus is Dragon Fae.

Sebek is a Raiju Fae.

Rollo is a Fire Nymph.

[lauraneedstochill]

I've never liked to think that Aemond is evil, just someone who's been hurt too much time and time again and saw no justice for it; do you think he's evil? or that there's more to it than simply that? That he genuinely cares about people, his mother, his family?

I do not consider show!Aemond evil — I’d like to believe that, as the definition of the word suggests, you have to be more immoral and wicked, perhaps even a bit sadistic to be downright evil. I see him as calculating, emotionless, cold, and that paired with everything he’s done makes him a villain but not necessarily evil (…yet?).

his current feelings, though? I have no fcking clue because the show is doing a very poor job of explaining them properly. to me, Aemond from Season 1 and Aemond from Season 2 are two different people.

🔪 S1 Aemond, yes, he cared about his mother (she sought justice for him when no one else did, she offered him comfort even when she couldn’t fully understand his struggles), his family (he’d grow up thinking he had to step up and be the responsible one — to eventually take pride in becoming someone his family can rely on), and he knew what loyalty was, despite not being ecstatic about the order of things (Alicent did drill “in the world we must defend our own” into her kids' heads, and you bet, he was the fastest learner). the real tragedy of Aemond — to me — was about his deepest desires and his arrogance clashing with the picture-perfect image he’s grown into and didn’t mind portraying as it got him the love and trust of the ones he cared about, the approval and respect of everyone else. but his desires are too big and burning, and his arrogance is only fuel: of course, he deserves it all and he should take it — and he can take it BUT it will ruin the image he’s crafted and the bonds he’s formed. raised by the woman who put duty above all, can he betray everything she taught him to believe in? there are a few ways things can go from there but all the paths lead to his self-isolation and his downfall, although he keeps trying and trying to prove something till the very end, and it’s sad because it’s relatable — we are all trying, we all hate feeling that we are capable of more but simultaneously aren’t enough. if only he put all that effort somewhere else, maybe he could’ve been happier but we will never know. he dies young.

🔪 but S2 Aemond? they packed his character development in the tiniest bag and it’s never been opened once. the writers are so keen on blaming Aegon for everything, they don’t realize that making Aemond do a 180 because of one unfortunate joke is a disservice to the character. him deciding that regicide and fratricide aren’t a big deal is as wild as it is dumb: there’s no way he didn’t know it would damage his relationships with the very few people who loved him. how long can you milk “he was bullied as a child” before it bites you in the ass and makes your super-cool-much-wow character look like a thin-skinned boy who holds on to every offense instead of idk MOVING ON? because he did get his justice — he got the biggest dragon as a fuck you to the people who made fun of him for not having one, he only got stronger despite losing an eye, he got to be his mom’s most precious son and he DID get Luke killed (even if by mistake, the result is still the same — the bastard who maimed him won’t ever make fun of him again). how is that not enough? who and when decided that Aemond becoming a bully himself would be a great achievement? why holding him accountable for what he did isn’t fair but him being vengeful left and right is praised and cheered for? and he is not complex, I’m sorry, he just isn’t. he’s been robbed of proper reasoning and conflict, and I am getting tired of trying to peer into his one eye to get a hint of emotion while S1 Aemond could at least grant us little outbursts here and there to confirm that he is a human being and he can successfully keep his facade up while also having feelings.

S1 Aemond was many things, all of them fascinating. S2 Aemond makes me want to skip to the scenes of Daemon getting high and scared in some leaking castle (and I’m starting to wonder if maybe that’s the point?).

anyways, I hope Ryan Condal will be out of job when the show is over.

[peachie-kyng]

Dreamland

Sorry it’s long! You don’t have to read the whole thing.

So!!! I had another dream with Noah from Bad Omens in it. I feel like the place we was in was my home, but then again I’m not sure of that either. Cause it definitely wasn’t my home the way I know it to be. But this kitchen was similar to how the kitchen in my old house was.

Anyway! We was in a house, in the tv room, and it was night time. I had blanket and was getting ready to go to sleep on one of the couches. Just as I came into the tv room I saw Noah chilling on couch that looked more like a love seat type of couch. And with him being so tall my first thought was “I don’t think he’s gonna be able to fit comfortably on that couch.” Which wasn’t just a thought since I said it loud enough for him to reply back to me, “Naw, this is good for me.” I just shrugged it off and proceeded to get on the couch that was big enough for me to sleep on but would have comfortable for Noah as well. (Which is also when I notice that it’s Noah from Bad Omens and the first person who came to mind was you, Nami! @agravemisstake And I thought, that I had to tell him that friend of mines is a big fan. Which I didn’t get the chance to do unfortunately.)

See the couch I was on was wide and long enough to be a twin size bed. (The size of my actual bed.) But he said that he was good so I started to get comfortable. The lights was off, the tv was on, he had three cans of beer by him, and I had one can of hard seltzer(vodka and flavored soda). I watched him try to get comfortable and then said, “Are you sure you good over there? This couch would be more comfortable for you?” Talking about the one I’m on. And he basically tells that it’s fine, and we proceed to try to go to sleep.

Only we just end up talking. Just talking about random things while trying to sleep but neither of us is really letting the other go to sleep. And swear the longer we talked the closer the couch Noah is on comes closer to me. Which I don’t really notice until he starts talking about someone name Dan and I stop like, “Hold on, hold on, hold on. I’m Dan! That’s me.” Basically saying, Danny is my name. Granted, one of my friends do call me Dan sometimes. So, he smiles at me like he’s acknowledging now that I’m Danny and than starts talking about Dan again only this time he was like, “Okay, so the Idiot did something dumb.” He no longer Dan by his name, just straight up replaced it with Idiot. Now what did he say about Dan, I have no idea cause I’m sitting there thinking, Nami would freak out if she knew was talking to Noah from Bad Omens.

I end up finishing my hard seltzer and he finished a can of beer and at this point we not even trying to sleep anymore. Just enjoying talking to each other. But then something got on my blanket and he asked if I was okay and said I was fine and just needed to clean off my blanket real quick. Going to the kitchen, I went to the sink to clean off the corner part of my blanket. And I think like a minute into doing that Noah comes in the kitchen. He don’t really say anything but he definitely uses his height to loom over me as he walks by to go to fridge, like he’s checking on me and making sure everything was okay, takes something out the fridge and then goes back into the tv room. Cause everything was okay, I rinsed the stain off and then go back into the tv room.

Only to see him, finally!, sitting comfortably, but comfortably on the couch I was on. Which I knew his tall ass would be would be comfortable on. But I didn’t say anything about it since he handed me an another hard seltzer (what he had got out of the fridge when came to check on me). Both of us now sitting on the couch, with tv still on, lights off, and just talking. And once again I’m thinking that I need to tell him about my friend who is a big fan. But this starts talking about a song he’s about to make.

He was saying that it would start off with someone playing a horn and then he would come in with drums and then there was one other part before the beat dropped and the song would play. He asked me what I had thought about it. And at first I’m talking about the instrument for the horn that he might be talking about. A trumpet or trombone. I say something but else, but Noah’s like, “Okay, but you didn’t answer my question. What you think about it?” And so I tell him that it sounds pretty cool. Noah’s response to that was, “Okay, I’m gonna remember you said that. And see what you really think it’s cool. The name of the song is gonna start with an S.” I’m just like, Okay! Then proceed to tell him that his idea actually reminds me of the NFL theme song. Only then realize the there’s a football game on the tv and…

That’s it!

I swear it was really just us chilling and talking and getting to know each other. Nothing really romantic, but there was sense of it was possible in the future. Especially, since it just seemed like the more we talked the closer we got, not just physically either with how he couch was sliding closer to me. But yea! It was chill. Wish o could remember more of what we talked about, but that’s just how dreams go.

@yermes @futuristiclovezone95

[fluffyprettykitty]

This isn’t a request(unless you feel inspired) but I was reading the prompt list you reblogged that has “I broke his heart cause he was nice” as one and the way my mind immediately went to sweetheart Steven Grant. I don’t why I’m torturing myself thinking of someone saying that!!!! Like, Steven is so broken and Marc/Jake are both desperate to find out what happened and you pop off with that line. The devastation!!!!!!!!! Argh.

I couldn’t stop the suffer spiral and I want to drag you with me! ❤️

pairing: Marc Spector x gender neutral reader (no other specifications!)

word count: ~900 words

warnings: unresolved angst.

summary: Marc needed to pick up Steven's broken pieces but first he needed to understand.

a/n: hi nonnie!!!! I love your mind and I loved this slash of wonderful torturous angst, I hope you like this short piece :D Steven doesn't make an appearance in the story but it's implied they had a romantic relationship that got resolved.

The phone hasn't stopped ringing. It's been five hours since you left Steven's apartment in London and now you were here next town over sitting on your couch. Your phone only stopped ringing enough for the landline to blast.

You knew who it was. But there was nothing else to be said, you wanted out, you got out. That's how it is, that's how it works where you are from and this is how it should also work for Marc. Insane how now he seems incapable of accepting an answer. Yet if he was the one pushing you or Steven away it would have been your fault because he's just so broken.

Unfortunately, he's going to have to learn that you can't have it both ways.

Your relationship started with Marc, in dark alleys, sharing a cigarette together before ending up sharing sweat and bodily fluids. It evolved to one with Steven, one morning you woke up and saw him there watching you in almost horror but incredible care. Marc let you in on his condition because after that Steven wouldn't stop talking about you.

And you agreed. Made you feel all innocent and pure, like the man your teenage self could have wanted.

At first, everything was nice and sweet but you weren't the type to stay somewhere for long, never the type to commit and it was your time to move on.

You had already warned Marc about this. Warned him so that he could also prepare him for the inevitable heartache. For two weeks now. He either ignored you or dismissed you until you finally told him. Bluntly.

That was the last Tuesday. And today just like the other days your phone is ringing, ringing... Steven can't seem to get over you and now Marc's after you. Should have been more careful maybe.

But it was the first time you heard banging on your door.

"Open up, Y/N!" Marc shouts from across the wooden door and his tone is full of anger and spite.

"Or what?" You shout back slightly amused.

"Or I will break this door down with my bare hands."

He would. Kinda hot though you'd love to see it. You get up and slowly unlock the door before opening it, his fist going immediately for the door pushing it wide open, followed by his hand on you pushing you inside the apartment and closing the door behind him.

Aggressive. Typical.

"I need you to explain."

"Marc, I have already said everything there is to be said."

"Did you have to break his heart?"

"That's hardly my fault. You should have prepared him. I am not responsible for him."

"Why did you break his heart?"

This conversation could be endless, you needed to cut it right there and then. Marc was acting purposely too dumb to realize. You are not for people like Steven. Never have been and never will be.

"I broke his heart 'cause he was nice." You spit out, eyes unfazed.

Marc breathes out, tilting his head just a little, and narrowing his eyes. Oh, he hates you now, he hates how much you are right.

"You wanted to hear the truth and that's it." Your stance doesn't change not even for a millisecond whilst Marc's face is getting redder.

"I'm not that kind. I'm not good. I can't play house, bake cookies and bat my eyelashes. I'm not the person you bring home to your parents for Sunday tea. I warned you that this would happen and you'd end up having to pick up his pieces."

"You can't be that heartless." Honestly, you feel as if you're talking to a wall.

"I can."

"That's not you." Is he really that dense?

"It is. You just happen to think you're the only one who can do whatever he pleases and have no one question anything because you're so goddamn broken? You don't know anything about me."

"He was supposed to stay innocent. I was supposed to protect him." Marc is trying to relax his stance, to swallow his anger and his frustration.

"Then you should have never let him meet me."

"Yeah, so that's on me?" He's full of hatred again, you can tell by the way his eyes darken and his body gets tense.

You nod your head. What happens now is well beyond your concern.

"You could have been nicer about it."

"I am nice about it. I haven't slammed the door in your face yet." He stares at you, then back at the door, then at the top of his boot that's touching your slipper.

"I was wrong about you." He breathes steadily wanting to push his anger away.

"I was the one who was wrong about you. Thought you could actually handle a situation."

"You're cruel."

"No more than you."

He shakes his head, forces a polite smile on his face, and turns around to open the door. One push and he is out.

"I'm sorry." He whispers so low that only your heartbeat could match it. He lets go of the door handle and jolts outside, rushing down the stairs.

You were sorry too. Just not for the same reasons.

follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary for updates!

[silverusso]

What about Terry and Mike in the OT3? are they a thing to or do they only agree to share Daniel?

My boy always gets sidelined, and this dynamic gets ignored even more than Labarnes, which is also criminally underrated. I get it, cause Mike and Terry spent most of their screentime separately and with Daniel, in kk3 and ck s5, and so we really don’t have much to go on, unfortunately. But I’m gonna go full meta on this, even if I sound delulu.

So look, Terry says "perfect" like 4 times? And it’s always in reference to Mike. He’s just like me fr.

Mike is sort of the Johnny to Terry’s Kreese, in a sense? I say this loosely because there’s a sort of fatherly attachment in that dynamic that isn’t present here. Kreese trained Johnny, and so he sort of molded him and contributed to Johnny’s success as a two-time avt champ. Mike came to Terry already a national champion, and going by his reputation as "Karate’s Bad Boy", whoever trained him was either giving him the Cobra Kai kool-aid on steroids, or Mike was just that fucked up naturally lol. And Mike really is perfect because Terry doesn’t need to put any time or effort into him. Mike is just another financial investment, and Terry loves throwing his money around. And Mike even negotiates with him like a boss. He walked in there, not batting an eye at Terry being butt ass naked in a tub, and really said "50% or I walk" and Terry was just like "bet." AND Mike says he wants that shit in writing, and Terry draws up a whole contract with a real lawyer?? Promising 50% of Cobra Kai to this kid??? Mike is honestly so iconic. I said this before, but Mike was pretty much poised to become the face of Cobra Kai. He was supposed to be their champion and their saving grace. They were going to open dojos all over the valley when not if he won. Half of which he’d legally own. So he was basically inheriting Terry’s legacy as well.

was this really necessary sir

and this

Granted, Terry has a personal space issue with like everyone, apparently, but still, grabbing his hair? It’s not even like Mike has long hair for him to grab in the first place. And I don’t think you have to practically spit in his mouth to pretend threaten him.💀

literally, why are they standing this way

just look at the way Daniel and Kreese look at him😭

It’s giving

And then in s5, Terry burned down Mike’s store, and of course everyone links that to his jealousy over Daniel. But that store was Mike’s father-in-law’s store. So yeah it affected Mike, but it obviously affected his wife much worse lbr. And what did this lead to? Supposedly, Mike’s wife leaving him. So he basically ruined Mike’s marriage the same way he tried to do with Daniel and Amanda. 👀

And okay idc if this is a reach but Mike being on something even "stronger" than alcohol...While Terry confirmed he was on crack back in the 80s.......Remember Daniel's "your ponytailed pimp" line.

And when he mocks Johnny for being dumb and "attacking me on my own turf" which technically was Mike’s idea, BUT earlier he also said, "Uh oh, fellas, I don’t think this is gonna turn out like you thought it would." only AFTER Mike got knocked out. Because even though they would have still been outnumbered with Mike in the fight, he knew none of his little foot fist ninjas were going to stand a chance against Mike. So Mike is taken out of the fight and just like tossed in another room, which puts him conveniently out of harm's way. It’s not like he was locked in or whatever so I don’t think the major concern here was keeping him from waking up and rejoining the fight.

And btw, Mike’s plan was what ended up saving the day, cause Terry arrived too late to the dojo and was in no condition to fight Daniel. King Shit.💅

Then Terry leaves Chozen for dead in his pool and tells the senseis to pull an mk fatality on Johnny. And Mike? Just let him sleep it off. <33

like hello??

Terry knew what he was doing. He wanted Mike back by his side on a pretty leash and Daniel on his knees for him.

[sigmashuffle]

I have a question!! So I’m a long-time BSD enjoyer but I haven’t read nearly as much of the manga as I would like. I’ve seen all of the anime though, most of it multiple times through. I didn’t realize until looking at the comments on Danny Motta’s video at how much people fucking hate Fukuchi and his sword. Up until this point I’ve thought it’s cool as hell and he, along with the sword, bring something kinda new and fun to the series.

HOWEVER, I know BSD is FAR from perfect and there’s a lot of dumb shit that faithful manga readers have a better perspective on. Would you mind explaining why Fukuchi and the sword are such a sore point? I hope this isn’t too much to ask. I just really want to know.

Hi anon! Its not too much to ask at all!

Unfortunately the answer to that is best explained in the context of ALL the issues I have with the manga/show so... this is going to be v long... and im done giving this show more credit than it deserves but don't take it that seriously lol I hesitate to even consider my pov to be on par with the average manga reader but ig we'll see how my opinions hold up after i post

And disclaimer: I don't mind answering this but ONLY with the context that this is 100% my opinion (as of late, bsd as a whole has just been REALLY bugging me so im just gonna take this opportunity to explain my gripes since most of them apply to or tie greatly into fukuchi's character/design/motivations/development)

I simply don't want anyone to come for my head bc of anything I say here tho, bc I feel like I may disagree with a large portion of the fanbase but WITH THAT SAID...

***from this point forward there will be a few spoilers from s5e11***

Here are my gripes with BSD...

1. BSD and its "magic system"?

bsd powers suffer from what i like to call a "lack of scope"

granted this could be due to the fact the story isnt complete HOWEVER im sure any anime fan can tell you this story doesnt feel like it is leading anywhere its just... going... (ill get to the awful pacing later)

for comparison sake im going to also talk about The Case Study of Vanitas since it is the world I have the most experience in

what does BSD not have that VNC does?

simply put, the magic system doesnt reinvent itself character to character

in VNC if you have an ability it is EXCLUSIVELY connected to "manipulations of the world formula" which is essentially elemental control (fire, ice, gravity, etc.) based on a sci fi version of chemistry (alchemy, if you will) and this rule applies to EVERY CHARACTER in VNC

its a structure that starts developing from the beginning

BSD however introduces a WHOLE NEW magic system for each character

some character abilities are similar, yes, and can be classified as such, but many cannot be classified

again a magic system doesnt NEED to have strict rules (its actually more boring that way if the rules are too simple) but it DOES need RULES... and solid ones

otherwise its tempting to use the MAGIC system to fill in PLOT RELATED gaps

and if that system isnt defined, well, to me that looks like lazy/sloppy/illogical writing

if you like the whiplash of not knowing whats gonna happen next, fine, (i did for awhile too!) up until the unpredictability started to come from powers that as a whole look like an authors way of trying to write themselves out of their own plot hole

ie: time travel

specifically time travel that isnt introduced FROM THE BEGINNING...

2. Fukuchi and his "deus ex machina" sword

time travel is NOTORIOUSLY difficult to pull off and especially by my standards

I have watched Doctor Who since 2008, before I even knew what tumblr was I was doing my own solo fandom stuff (basically just watching a LOT of youtube video essays) but basically I have high standards when it comes to time travel in stories

Amenogozen has the POTENTIAL to be a great weapon if used in a logical context... but theres one thing the sword (and BSD as a whole) does not follow

RULES

time travel is TRICKY mostly bc it has consequences... in BSD fukuchi gives nothing in exchange for his powers

lets even toss time travel aside for the moment

what is Fukuchi's innate special ability? Mirror Lion... (read below)

its essentially an attack multiplier of x100 at CLOSE RANGE

lets say your average untrained human punch is 150psi (pounds per square inch) which is the pressure equivalent of a point 100m below the surface of the ocean...

with Mirror Lion's multiplier you get 15,000psi which would be 10,000m or 10 kilometers

a pressure equivalent to the deepest part of the ocean (i dont need to remind you how powerful water is... we all know about oceangate)

MY POINT IS HE'S OVERPOWERED AS FUCK

dont even get me started on his motivations too

im glad we got backstory for him in ep 11 and im sure we are just supposed to sum up his motivations into "he was willing to pay the high price for world peace" but tbh royally fuck that

dont TELL me thats what he believes

PROVE to me how you made that conclusion

also the only reason he even dies is becasue he wants fukuzawa to kill him... we dont have any sense of accomplishment for stopping his scheme because NOW the scheme has been PLOPPED right into fukuzawa's lap which fukuchi intended to do from the start... apparently

and this seemingly retroactive decision-making is a problem A LOT of bsd characters have, especially the one and only character i hate THE MOST... *drumroll*

3. Osamu fucking Dazai

oh boy...

I have thought long and hard about Dazai... im not going to lie, after ch109 and ep10 I was about to admit Dazai might actually have grown on me BUT

this was all erased after 6 minutes into ep11 when he was confirmed to indeed NOT be dead

Dazai just *knows* everything thats gonna happen

Chuuya was never a vamp... he knew this... and somehow his ENTIRE escape plan was just hinging on that? bc yknow... hE kNeW fRoM tHe bEgiNniNg

OSAMU DAZAI IS A PLOT DEVICE USED *ONLY* TO FILL IN NARRATIVE HOLES

HE IS A WAY TO FORCE PROGRESS ON A STORY WITHOUT EVER GIVING A REAL EXPLANATION

HIS CHARACTER IS AN INSULT TO INTELLIGENCE

His character is paper thin, with motivations that do not translate to his actions

and frankly... im tired of it...

additionally... if sigma doesn't survive, all of Meursault was literally useless... so why pick him for nikolai's prison break game?

even if he does, it means the ONLY thing we get out of the arc is information about fyodor... as to WHAT information, who knows... but regardless, a villain arc that has been going on for TOO GODDAMN LONG (40 chapters?) should have a resolution that isnt "i knew what was gonna happen all along"

we spent the whole time being SHOWN that fyodor and dazai were of equal intelligence levels... or at least higher than what dazai was used to dealing with

if dazai could just predict shit like this from the beginning why was fyodor a villain for so long? makes ZERO sense, dazai would've defeated him AGES ago... what makes THIS time any different?

also... why is he even suicidal? yeah ok the author was... but like... why make it such a present character trait?... so we can fake kill him over and over? idk

can you tell i dislike him?

4. THEORY vs PRACTICE

I am a "show dont tell" girlie

ALL BSD DOES IS "TELL TELL TELL" ...its infuriating

almost every power/special ability has an element of "trust me bro" ok SOME OF THEM DONT but most of them do

ie: atsushi is a tiger (what does that even mean), kenji gets strong when he's angry (ok hulk?), and THIS JUST IN we STILL don't know how fyodor's ability works... and now he's DEAD?... we also dont know almost any detail about sigma's ability and he might ALSO be dead

but thats only regarding abilities...

when it comes to writing stories using people of high intelligence it is VERY difficult to not get into the aforementioned "trust me bro" mindset which BSD does REPEATEDLY

im not listing off every example but off the top of my head is one scene from s4...

ranpo explains his plan for saving yosano loosely involved "replacing the engine [of an armored vehicle] with an electric motor and playing engine sounds over the speakers so no one noticed" ...and only i can pick this claim to shreds lol (i engineer electric vehicles for a living) but this is so wrong on so many levels...

Internal combustion engines and Electric motors are IN NO WAY EQUIVALENT

ranpo would never be able to power a vehicle the size of an armored truck with a motor that he installed an hour before the truck was put to use... he just wouldnt... the vehicle is too big... ugh *facepalm*

and dont even get me started on batteries...

MY POINT IS

if you want to write some *genius move* at least TRY to do some research to make the action believable

thats like saying "oh yeah i ran out of gas so a threw a couple AA batteries into my gas tank until i could make it to the station"

BUT THAT WOULDNT FLY BECAUSE MOST PEOPLE KNOW THATS NOT HOW CARS WORK

*sigh*

5. Manga Readers' POV

the.chapters.are.too.short

especially for a monthly released manga

i am relatively new to anime and manga... like late 2020, so I am part of the "new gen" I guess you could say so i know i dont have any right to complain about pacing in comparison to like... the dressrosa arc of One Piece

with that said, not enough in bsd BUILDS on itself

it all feels like a self "one-up"

its been too long since any of my large questions have been answered

honestly its rare that any of my questions are ever answered because the narrative rarely follows logical progression anyway and any scenes thats ARE useful are cut from the anime

characters do not *develop* their powers, they just simply ARE

whatever ability you are born with limits what you can do and thats that... which leads me to...

6. Types of Ability Users

the most coherent thing i think i can speak on so this will be short lol

there are 3 types... i think (excluding lightnovels, i have not read 15, Stormbringer, or any others)

(1) natural abilities (ones that can be nullified by dazai or stolen like in Dead Apple)

(2) human/god fusions (chuuya) -> but this can ALSO be nullified???

(3) when an ability isnt an ability (it CANT be nullified) -> ie: whatever the fuck Lovecraft is

Sigma -> ??? (he could be part of the natural ability category but like... it feels weird to put him there)

but... there is never a comparison between these types so im not even sure of this "list" is exhaustive

this is just another way the story is leaving open ways to dig itself out of a plot hole... which isnt fun... bc now there are no stakes... there are no rules... its disorganized chaos where anything can happen

everyone will always be fine because there is a way out of everything

and thats BORING... and for me, downright infuriating

fukuchi likely falls into the first category... but then again he's also using a tool from another ancient ability user... so does he even fit there?

7. Anime Adaptation

rushed

rushed

RUSHED

and i know why...

BSD is so thin on STABLE plot the story would feel like its dragging if Bones wasn't animating at the pace they are (see Manga Readers' POV)

so to try and counteract the feeling that nothing is happening they are cutting "irrelevant" scenes BUT ALSO important portions relevant ones (ie: aku's death)

do all the plot points from the manga happen? by definition, yes... but the nuance the manga has is lost almost entirely

Atsushi doesn't physically throw an injured Aku's arm over his shoulders... Aku doesn't smile upon his demise... Aku doesn't reach out through the fog of the fire extinguisher (the adaptation of this scene was personally my last straw)

and then we have the new anime content...

why did we tack on an additional fight? zero context... didn't even tie up loose ends from fukuchi like...

is sigma alive?

are chuuya/dazai/nikoali still in france? europe?

is fyodor going to return in some way? (we know nothing of his motives, ability, or MOST importantly, what information did he learn from Sigma??? his ability is an EXCHANGE so why even have that happen if they are both dead anyway?) why would you fucking kill off a character like this

WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS ENTIRE ARC??? The mere reason I'm asking this question is, in and of itself, unacceptable

we MAY get an answer later... but its been 20 episodes... why the fuck dont we know anything about the arc we just completed? ...ludicrous

Final Thoughts

BSD does not have enough reliable rules in its magic system to form a solid foundation of... anything

Fukuchi is a disjointed character trying to do too many things at once, he doesn't have solid motivations, and his arc provides more questions than it answers

Osamu Dazai is not a character... he is a plot device used like a saving throw in DND

BSD frequently insults my intelligence to cover it's ass in its storytelling

being a manga reader is like taking 30 days to rip off a tiny band aid... the pacing is unbearable

even with the end of fukuchi's arc now known, there was no sense of accomplishment in defeating him bc technically we didnt… he gave himself up... so the sword was just to make him overpowered... it was pointless

the anime adaptation was rushed, scenes cherry picked, and plot narratively thinned into water... there was no depth this season

In my opinion...

There are very few redeeming characteristics about BSD now

The few meaningful scenes we do get in the manga are overwritten by later context that negates any emotion initially associated with the scene

even with the end of fukuchi's arc now known, there was no sense of accomplishment in defeating him bc technically we didnt... he gave himself up

Dazai is the worst written character I have ever read

It is very likely i drop this story entirely

If I seem salty/upset/etc. its because I am. However is NOT directed at you, it is simply a manifestation of my disappointment in this story.

...

And there you have my opinion... in way too many words... thanks for sticking around if you made it this far im impressed bc i am salty as hell lol

fin

[villainessprefect]

title: (Un)According to Plan

summary: Ace nudges Deuce to ask out Epel, but things don't go exactly as planned.

ship: EpelDeuce

word count: 2,214

note: written for an exchange I joined!

Read on AO3

Ace rolls his eyes the moment Epel leaves. The lilac-haired boy pouts as he's forcibly dragged away by that freaky hunter. Yet his gaze isn't focused on those of Pomefiore, but rather on one of his own.

Deuce is waving at Epel with a promise to catch him later. There isn't much they can do when it comes to Vil and his demand to have Epel at his side. So, the most he can do is just meet up with him when he's free. Or fight against Vil, although that hardly ends up well for the first years.

The redhead grimaces as he notes the way Deuce's eyes sparkle. They always shine brighter whenever Epel is mentioned. He practically jumps like an excited dog too. And whenever he's around, his attention is always on the smaller boy. There's a longing look, stuttering words escaping his calm demeanor, and a damned smile that comes together. It's...gross. Okay, not that gross, but did he have to be so damn obvious about it?!

Ace likes to think he doesn't mind the lovestruck gaze his friend has. It only bothers him because this idiot hadn't acted on his feelings! Sometimes he thinks that Deuce isn't even aware of the crush he has on Epel. While it's fun poking at him with that ammo, watching him grow flustered and weak against his teasing, it also backfired on him. Rather than encouraging him to confess, it seemed to do the opposite.

Perhaps it was time to finally end this never-ending song and dance.

"You should invite Epel to our next unbirthday party," he starts, a mischievous grin forming. "You know, as a date."

"You think he'd like to come-" A pause as that last, pronounced word sinks into his mind. Deuce blurts out a loud, "EH?!" His cheeks flare up instantly and Ace enjoys the sight of him struggling to be embarrassed or go on the defensive. It's definitely still worth teasing him over this.

"N-No. Wait, why?" Deuce isn't even sure what he's asking. Words fly out of his mouth without thinking. While he may not be the brightest, even he's not that dumb. He likes Epel. More than friends should and he knows it. But why bother to ask him out now? Is there something special about the next unbirthday party? No, there isn't.

"Look. I'm tired of you giving him googoo eyes all the time. You're into him and he's into you. Just ask him out. It's not that hard."

"...He's into me...?" Deuce mumbles as his eyes light up as if he was just told any wish of his would be granted for free. And now, Ace is regretting helping him out.

"How do you ask someone out? You've done it before, right?"

"Yup! It's easy." Ace states proudly. "You just gotta go up to him and ask. Like, hey Epel! Go on a date with me! That's all there is to it. Go on, try it."

"H-Hey, Epel!" Deuce stutters already. He clears his throat and adjusts his tie. He fidgets more than any normal person should and his goddamn crush isn't even around him anymore! His mouth opens and words struggle to leave his lips. "This shit is harder than I thought..."

"Man, I can't believe how innocent you can sometimes be," Ace sighs. At this rate, he'd never be able to pop the question. The thought of seeing them sticking as 'just friends' any longer is going to drive him mad! Maybe...maybe he can force it out of him.

"If you don't ask him out, then I will."

"What?!"

"You heard me." Ace puts on a bold bravado with his declaration. He doesn't mean it, obviously. He doesn't have any romantic interest in their classmate, but he has to play his cards right so Deuce can finally make a move. "We got how many more days until the party? He's probably available. So, I'll just ask him out later. You snooze, you lose."

"Don't you dare," Deuce hisses. Oh, there's the real Deuce in the flesh. A fire burns in his eyes as he throws all of that honor student crap to the wind. It doesn't last long though, unfortunately. The fire simmers out almost as quickly as it had appeared. "I mean. I'll ask him before you do! It's just...not that easy for me to do that."

"C'mon, just do as I said. Go up and ask him out. If anything just drag his ass to the party even if he says no."

"That's not the most honor student thing to do..."

Ace rolls his eyes and lets out a tired sigh. Is this how Riddle feels when he has to deal with them? He isn't sure how he feels about this now (although it's definitely not going to stop him from getting on their housewarden's nerves).

For once, he's almost glad the bell rang to signal that class was back in session. A headache was starting to throb the longer this conversation went on.

"A real honor student wouldn't be afraid to speak their feelings to someone, I'm just sayin."

Those are his final words on this topic. Deuce looks at him, a little confused as to what he means by that considering he is far from being an honor student.

For the rest of the day, that was all Deuce could think about. Lessons had gone by a little too fast and he felt like he skipped class despite physically being there. He couldn't tell if Ace was serious about his 'threat' and that worried him. It didn't help that it caused him to think about Epel and get distracted. The boy sighed as he put a hand to his head.

"Just ask him out," Deuce mumbles to himself. He clears his throat and straightens his posture. With no one else around in the hall he takes a chance to rehearse.

"Epel! W-Would you like to unbirthday my party with me? W-Wait, no that's wrong...The unbirthday party you're going to is cool! Huh? How do I know he's going...Ugh!"

He doesn't understand how Ace can casually say those things while he has trouble getting the lines right. Planning ahead isn't his style, but he feels like he should with this. Romance movies always follow a set path, they set up a cute scene and an almost kiss. The last part is definitely not something he thinks he can do just yet, but...that's better than nothing, right? No, no, he can't just force a kiss on him! He isn't even sure how? Would he ask first or just do it? Would he know when? Would Epel? Does he even want to kiss him?

Questions build up and he regrets letting his thoughts wander too far. His strength lies not with his mind, but with his heart. If he's going to do something, then he should just do it. Don't think. Act.

With confidence building up inside him, he is determined to follow through on his newfound instinct. And he's given a chance to do so when he spots Epel in the courtyard.

A little, unknowing, smile creeps up on his face as he makes his approach. He's about to call out to Epel until he notices a couple of other students, taller, muscular, ones hovering around him. Deuce doesn't know what's going on but by the looks on their faces, it can't be good.

"Hey, what's going on here?" He asks as he steps to Epel's side. A mixture of curiosity and a rising temper on his side. Now he can see those two sneering at Epel while he shoots them a subtle glare.

"Nothin," Epel answers with a huff. "These barbarians were just leavin'."

"Eh? The hell did you just call us?" One questions, cocking his head to the side.

"The princess thinks he can push us around just cuz he's the housewarden's favorite," the other teases.

"Hey!" Epel shouts. That nickname didn't sit well with him. Sure, he's small and cute, but princess? Princess?! Seriously?!

"Epel..." Deuce breathes out his name. He can feel the rage growing inside of him. But he can't let a fight start, not here, not now.

"Oh ho, so now the princess has his prince stepping in. How dashing." They laugh at their own jokes to rub it in.

"I ain't need no prince!" Epel shouts, stepping in front of Deuce. A snarl overtook the dainty look he normally wears. "I'll show ya!"

"Epel!" Deuce calls out, but it's too late.

Epel pulls out his pen and so do the other boys. Instinctively, Deuce does the same. He doesn't think that Epel is trying to prove himself and fight on his own, the only thing that comes to his mind is that he's not going to let him fight alone. His protective nature comes forth and like hell is he going to let anyone hurt his friend. If Epel hates having him help, he can scold him later. Right now he just doesn't want him to lose.

Spells are cast with disregard for the rules, the school, and each other. Magic flies around the courtyard in a frenzy. Some hit, some don't. Grass is burnt, water turns to ice, a cauldron misses its mark. Once. The second time it hits.

And that is what gives the first years their victory.

"Sorry for jumping in," Deuce apologizes as his attention turns away from the other students and back to Epel. "I couldn't just let you fight on your own."

Epel crosses his arms. He wants to be angry with him, he really does. He could have handled those punks on his own! Yet...

"Mmm it's okay." Epel shakes his head as he smooths down his uniform. One part sticks out, the hem of his coat singed due to a fire spell. It would have done more damage to him if Deuce hadn't gotten in the way. "I always appreciate your help. Thanks."

The smaller boy shoots him a smile. It makes Deuce's heart race. The sudden pounding in his chest reminds him of his earlier plan.

"You're welcome! Er, Epel, I wanted to ask you something." He clears his throat. "I, uh..."

Unbirthday party. Yes. Date. Yes? Easy!

Oh, wait. He's not supposed to be planning out what he wants to say, he's supposed to just say it. But everything he wants to say is jumbled and stuck in his throat. It doesn't help that he's looking directly at Epel, who has his face tilted down with bright blue eyes gazing up at him.

Damn, he's so cute.

"You're cute. W-Wait!" Deuce shouts. "You're not! I mean- shit!"

He's not supposed to call him cute. Anything but that. But can you blame him? Epel is cute. So cute that it distracts him from asking him out.

Deuce panics a bit. Is this the part where he should just kiss him? No. Yes. Talking isn't working so that feels like the only other option he has. When did asking people out get so difficult?

Epel clears his throat, although it goes unheard by the Heartslabyul student.

"Deuce." Hearing his name catches his attention. The sound of it being uttered so fondly breaks him free from his disastrous thoughts. "You want me to go to the unbirthday party with ya, right?"

"How did you...?"

"Ace told me." He sighs. "Sort of. Rook gave me the heads-up before Ace could drop the hint. I wasn't expecting ya to go through with it though. But Ace said I should let you try. Said it'd be worth the wait."

"Was it?"

"I think so," he smiles. "Seeing you try to not mess up asking me was worth it." He chuckles. Deuce lets out a breath he'd been holding. "Still...not worth you calling me cute."

"Sorry! I didn't mean to let that slip! I know you don't like it..."

"You get a pass, but don't do it again. Anyway, never been to one of your parties before. They're not...fancy, are they?" Epel dreads the thought of them being anything like Pomefiore's. Prim and proper and full of nutritious and small servings. He hates it.

"Nope! They're actually pretty fun! Dunno if you'd count tea as fancy, but Trey makes really good food. His sweets are the best! Then there's croquet to play after we eat. Uhh, there are rules we have to follow, but I'm sure the housewarden won't be too harsh on you since you're not from Hearslabyul."

"Oh, right..." A hum. "You know the rules better than I do. Can you teach me those too?" Epel flutters his eyelashes. He doesn't need to but it's definitely worth seeing Deuce's cheeks turn bright pink. Ace was right about this!

"Yeah!" He doesn't know all the rules, hell he can barely even keep the first ten down, but for Epel? He's willing to memorize all of them.

"Then...it's a date?"

"YES!" Deuce shouts, voice being heard from the hallways. His whole figure lights up at the prospect of two dates. At least, he thinks it counts as two, right? Forget thinking about it, he's just going to count them as two. Who knew asking for one date could land you two anyway?

[ametrictonofaudacity]

...You have a horse? You work with a horse? Why am I just now knowing this? (Though possibly you mentioned this before and/or you're talking about q fictional one and I am just a moron)

Agahshs yes!!

We actually have quite a few horses!! My mom owns them, and when she adopted me, I started working with them!! I’m not super experienced yet, but I love working with horses even if it makes me anxious sometimes!!

We have four total. Jedha, Phoenix, Granata (or Granny for short), and Fanta! My mom’s worked with horses for a super long time so she has a habit of getting ‘problem’ horses and keeping them, and by fucking god do these guys have personality.

Jedha is our lead mare, and despite being in her like 20’s (ish) that is an Old Lady. She’s been used for barrel racing, and god help you if your on her and your mom decides to set up barrels while your ON her. That horse may not move for much but she will move for barrels. And treats. She will bully the other horses out of their treats. She’s an amazing horse, and honestly so desensitized to shit that you could stick a small child on her and if the kid were to try and fall off, she’d adjust her weight to keep them on.

Next up is Phoenix! He’s my sisters horse, an Arabian! We got him from an abusive/neglectful home, and when he first arrived he was scared of everything. Giving him a bath was a nightmare but he needed one. He’s been with us about a year and a half or so now, he’s 5 I think, and now he’s a big dumb idiot. He wants to know EVERYTHING you’re doing. He also gets jealous if me or my sister pet the other gelding, Granata. We have to use the buckstrap for him a lot, and recently we’ve had issues with him being buddy sour, unfortunately. (See my previous post about Granata’s dumb ass)

We move on to the dumbass in question, Granata! Previously he was our neighbors horse, who got them from another person. He’s a retired racehorse but good luck telling him that. If you so much as nudge this fucker he will go. He’s also honestly the best behaved out of the herd tbh, he stands perfectly for haltering, walks good, you don’t have to chase him, etc. He acts more like a big dumb dog than anything else, he’ll even come to his name.

Finally we have Fanta! It’s technically short for Phantom, which she got from her previous home, because she refused to let anyone touch her. She’s mine (technically a foster but my Dad doesn’t know my Mom plans on keeping her for me lmfao) and she’s a chestnut mare! She’s got two very pretty white socks on her front legs, as well as some Arabian in her. Which.. not the best idea to stick a new rider on an Arabian and a red mare, I’m aware, but she’s also super young and needs a gentler hand because she’s super young and has only been ridden a total of two times, both times by me.

I had another horse, Eloise, who was also a red mare, and I loved her to pieces before she got adopted out. She was super smart, although tbh Fanta is smarter and she’s super curious, and super sweet. To me at least. She did try to bite my Mom.

I may or may not have a weakness for red mares. They’ve just got so much personality! Granted the personality can sometimes be bitch, but it’s still personality!

[v1l3m0f0]

First of all, don‘t mind to trigger me, it doesn’t. I’m glad someone took the time to respond, since I’m quite sure, as you stated, I have an altered opinion on abusers, since I’ve been through it.

I have to state that I don’t entirely think that abusers are automatically granted good for not being abusive anymore, yet a huge part in me, believes that no human should never be forgiven. I’m not religious, but I don’t believe Rick deserves to be unhappy or granted a terrible future, despite what he did. We all die and as much as I’m aware millions of people meet an unfortunate end everyday, they don’t deserve it.

His past is no excuse for his behaviour, but it explains some of it. Ricks life was rough. He’s a guy who saw everything and anything. He committed countless of crimes and atrocities, yet I don’t see him as a bad guy. I personally don’t even believe in good and bad. Hell, I don’t know how I’d view the world if there wasn’t a single creature more intelligent or even close to my IQ without consequences and having the entire multiverse below my feet. I think many of us forget that. So somewhat I understand his dilemma. I’d become cocky too. I don’t want to justify his behaviour, because I doubt I’d ever act that way towards Morty, a loved one. But I have an understanding for it. Even if it’s minimal.

Just like you said, Rick does not encounter consequences, but him not jumping realities tho he most definitely could, when Morty asks for it(the kid asking for that in S6E9 is entirely Ricks fault for reasons I don’t have to elaborate), shows me that he’s changing and maybe wants to push Morty into that direction again. Rick was a monster. A monster in pain, constant agony and emotional pain. He had to deal with his daughter constantly blaming him for his abandonment when he in fact never left her. His Beth died and he never brought it up to her. He failed her. I think Ricks situation is utterly complicated and I doubt someone could understand it because in our reality, we have consequences. We cannot leave in that wide scale. I’m considering this as if it’d be a reality at this point, not just a show and I hope the writers do so too, because that’d explain some of it.

Considering real life, fuck yes he should withdraw from Morty, let him heal, form real relationships to kids his age etc etc. Rick should definitely form relationships with adults, not a kid. As dependant as they are on each other, they should separate, if this was a real life scenario. In the sense of that show I doubt all of that. If anything, Rick would leave again. Forever. Morty would maybe heal, forget Rick. Move past it, but I don’t think Rick could ever heal. He’d travel without a purpose again, maybe just die. Morty doesn’t deserve this, but I believe the old man needs Morty to feel human.

The show is still, a show. And I hope next season they’ll show Mortys perspective. Because I agree with what you said about the show painting it as easy when it’s the absolute opposite. People like me, and I assume you too, get that the show ,subtlety, mentioned before, through intros, that the episodes we see aren’t half of Rick and Mortys life. We get that the healing process was much much longer than the show portrays them, but I think the majority of watchers do not because they watch it casually. Some of us analyze the show, most do not. There’s the problem.

I have to say Morty‘s situation is incredibly complicated too. His family isn’t good to him, never has (considering his rant in the Planetina-Episode and much much more)

I adore Rick, so I might be quite biased in contrast to people who do not, especially because I myself never realized how much Rick has hurt Morty until other tumblrs pointed it out. As dumb as is sounds to others, but to me their dynamic seemed normal. Tbh I haven’t even been in the fandom or talked to ppl abt it until recently, when I watched it for a long time.

This is my conclusion on it.

I hope Mortys mental health gets a bigger focus next season bc this one they focused on Rick because they’re (in fiction) inseparable, which they shouldn’t be in our reality.

Again, thank you for your insight. I hope my text makes some sense.

Dumb rant about Rick and Morty’s relationship

An alcoholic genius grandfather and his grandson who gets trapped in the middle of it all

I scroll through the Rick Sanchez tag a lot and saw that many call him an abuser. Which is, when I thought about, very true, rewatching episodes of S1-4, though my dumbass has watched every episode at least 2-3 times, yet I never thought about it and still struggle with admitting it.

To give a bit of context to my person, I was/am a victim of verbal and physical abuse for years, by my parents, grandfather and a past partner.

And I truly hope Morty can forgive him, I did.

I know all of it is fictional but the show means a lot to me, since I’m a big science guy and can relate to Rick and Morty in vastly different aspects. My personality is closer to Ricks, nihilism n all that, but I still have feelings and trauma like Morty does and I believe he doesn’t get as much recognition for being so god damn strong around Rick as he deserves.

Rick put that kid through hell, yet he seems to forgive. He (unfortunately) doesn’t have much of a choice since he’s his grandfather and he’s a minor, but I believe Morty truly loves him past his fucked up-ness.

I hope Morty will have pleasant memories for Rick and that if he gets therapy when he’s older, realizing what his grandfather has put him through, he can see the positive in it.

Personally I believe I cope very different from other victims of violence and abuse because I forgave. I granted the people who hurt me deeply and caused me trauma a good life, which has turned out as an easier way than others I encountered, because years after they been hurt, they still seek revenge when I do not. I live my own, broken, life.

And I hope Morty can do so too. Morty is a child not opposed by therapy and I hope that never changes. Especially as a man who’s been subjected to emotional and physical violence. I know women have it incredibly hard, I’ll never deny that fact, but therapy is even more frowned upon for males. Because we’re often, not allowed to have feelings. Especially by other men.

I hope their relationship changes before Rick‘s death. As much as I adore Rick, he hurt Morty. Deeply. And to the shows nature I don’t even know if Rick can die, (recap to tiny Rick and the Akira episode), I hope the kid can learn and thrive from him, no matter how much he fucked him up.

Rick is an incredibly knowledgeable person, he’s the smartest creature in the universe, and I hope Morty will carry on with positive memories of that man, rather than holding a grudge for life. Though no one has the right to take that from him, because he has every reason to, but it’s easier and more beneficial if you learn not to.

I’d never share this if it wasn’t for the anonymity of my person here on tumblr. It’s no shame to be a victim of abuse, but I’m a person who prefers his privacy. I don’t like people to know who I am or what negativity I experienced in life. If you do, that’s fine, but I am me, not you.

Another aspect is, that I am a person with very limited empathy, like Rick (caused by life events rather than a disorder), and yet it absolutely destroyed me to go through abuse by my family and especially a partner I loved. For Morty, a god damn child, I believe it’s both. Morty and Rick aren’t in a romantic relationship, yet their dynamic is very close to it, considering the emotional aspect do their relationship, and they have a familiar bond. Morty truly loves Rick, he’s his grandfather, his closest relationship and a man he traveled the multiverse with. They abandoned realities with each other. Rick is the only true constant Morty has in his life. That fact will never change. Morty’a reality of origin is just as dead as Ricks. The two are not from the same one, yet both of them are the C-137s. They are ultimately and forever bonded, past any reality.

I don’t doubt Rick loves Morty too, he’s pretty much the only person he has not abandoned, but Rick has issues. He’s an alcoholic, he’s a broken man, a man with very little empathy.

And to some extent I can understand what Rick feels. I myself, have very little empathy and often step on peoples toes by my harshness and disregard for feelings. I’ve hurt people I love, deeply. To a point they cried.

Their relationship is truly and utterly toxic. The easy solution would be for Rick to leave, let Morty live a normal life. But they’re way past that. Morty has seen the horrors of the universe. He’s way more mature than other kids his age, because he’s seen and done things no adult in our reality could dream of.

He needs Rick, and I don’t believe it’s a bad thing. Rick changed. He cared for Morty in his own way since the show started. And yes, it’s been horrible, he has been horrible. Yet in the newest season he let Morty know and feel he cares, which he never did before.

I truly hope Morty can forgive IF Rick keeps his change going. He’ll always be a nihilistic asshole, but Morty deserves his integrity. He’s a child, which many forget. I honestly don’t know if I could’ve been as strong as Morty is at 13-14 years old or if Rick would’ve absolutely broken me.

Morty deserves more credit for who he is.

[miekasa]

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn​​ for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex. 

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.  

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.  

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team. 

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”  

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”  

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.” 

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

[scuttling]

All I Have To Give

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,096 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Daddy kink, Dom/sub, Collar & leash, Oral sex, Deep throating, Restraints, Fingering, Cockwarming, Spanking, Unprotected sex, Come marking, Subspace, Subdrop, Aftercare Summary: A difficult case brings complex emotions, and Aaron is willing to do anything to help the woman he loves process them. *Prompted by @ssamorganhotchner and @angelhotchner and this Link to AO3 or read below! Even after all of his time at the BAU, Aaron knows he hasn’t seen it all, or even close to it—it seems like the atrocities just get worse every year, that humans never fail to find a new way to hurt one another, and that makes him and everyone else on the team constantly question everything they know. He’d like to say it gets easier, but it really doesn’t; you just find new ways to lean on your partners, new ways to cope with the horrors and indecencies the world has to offer.

The case they are currently working on is hitting one profiler especially hard, and because Aaron happens to be in love with her, it’s hitting him hard as well.

“I just can’t imagine waking up one morning and thinking you have your whole life ahead of you, and then some asshole decides he likes the way you look and wants to turn you into his property,” she murmurs that night when they are laying together in the hotel room they share. She had been so strong all day, as always, and then all but collapsed into tears the second the door was closed behind them. “It’s disgusting.”

“I know, baby; cases like these are some of the worst.” He rubs her back with strong hands, pulls her close to his chest. “What can I do for you? I hate to see you like this.” She sniffles, brushes a hand over her eyes, shakes her head.

“I don’t think there’s anything right now. Just being here with me like this, and talking to me, it’s helping. Thank you.” He sighs, because he knows when she gets this upset just talking it out isn’t usually enough, but he has to follow her lead; he just leans in to press his lips to hers, gentle and sweet, and she curls her fingers into his t-shirt and falls asleep with her head against his chest.

The next day, they apprehend the unsub after a standoff; unfortunately, he’d killed the girls when he heard on the police scanner that law enforcement was approaching—all twelve of them. She is the one to find them, and she gets sick, a first in her five years at the BAU. Aaron goes to her side, brings some water for her; her eyes are haunted when she looks up at him.

“Branded,” she croaks, and he doesn’t understand at first, until he looks more closely at the pile of bodies and sees the marks seared into their hips: DM—the unsub’s initials. He exhales deeply, and she turns around and gets sick again.

They take him back to the precinct, try to get a DNA sample, but he won’t agree until his lawyer is present; his story is that his property has been unoccupied for some time, and that he had no idea the girls were being held there, or by whom.

Aaron knows he shouldn’t let her interrogate him. He knows that, but she pleads, and that is something he’s always been unable to resist.

“Branding, huh? Are you that insecure—that worried that the women you called your property wanted nothing to do with you?” she asks, standing with her arms crossed.

“Do you mean my herd? I didn’t just call them my property, honey. They were my property. I owned them. The brands are for everyone else, not for me.” She slams her hands down on the table, sweeps them over the photos she’d laid out in front of him, and they go fluttering to the ground. He can’t see her face, but he knows from her tone that her jaw is clenched, her eyes ablaze.

“You did not own them. Ownership is granted, not taken, you pathetic excuse for a man.” He flexes his hands against the cuffs fixed to the table but says nothing. “You are so powerless that this is the only way you can get it up, isn’t it? By stealing women from their families, their lives, and pretending they’re yours.”

“They are mine!” he shouts, but then he takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “I took… the herd, from their meaningless, mundane lives, I brought them home, I gave them purpose. Being my property gave them value they didn’t have before.”

“And then you killed them, so what’s the value now? How dumb do you look?” She gets right up in his face, and hateful, misogynistic poison glints in his eyes, shows through the calm facade he tries so desperately to project. “It’s like burning your own house down, isn’t it? Only there’s no insurance money to collect here, Darren. All that’s left is your stupid ass and a pile of bodies with your fucking name on them.”

“Don’t call me stupid,” he mutters, and she drums her fingers on the tabletop, almost thoughtfully.

“What would you call it? Risking everything to abduct twelve women only to turn around and kill them so they can’t tell us what a pitiful human being you are?” She leans in closer, and he turns his neck to face away from her, like he’s trying to ignore her. “But the thing is, I don’t need them to tell me,” she whispers. “I know you were a disappointment to your father, a disgrace to your mother. I know the disgusting, depraved things you did to your sister, and now the whole world’s going to know. I’m going to tell everyone.”

Aaron can see the change in him from where he stands on the other side of the glass, and he glances at Morgan, then makes for the door. He’s just gotten it open when the man pulls back and spits on her cheek; she freezes, then reaches up, wipes it off, calm and collected, and grabs his jaw with the hand not covered in saliva.

“Guess what, Darren? You’re my property, now. Your ass belongs to the US Government, and I’m going to personally ensure you never see the light of day again.” She holds her hand up—covered in DNA evidence—and walks past Aaron, out the door. She is unusually quiet on the flight back to DC despite the successful interrogation, pensive and solitary; even on the ride from the airport back home she just leans toward him, silent, hand resting on his thigh, her eyes unfocused.

He knows how hard this case hit her, can only hope that she will open up to him when they get home so he can give her what she needs to get through it. He will do anything, just needs to hear it from her.

“Why don’t we take a bath?” he says softly when they get home, dropping their bags in the laundry room, and he brushes a hand over her cheek. “We can soak the day away, and then maybe if you’re feeling better we can talk about what I can do to help.”

She looks up at him, nods, and they rid each other of their clothes and he draws them a bath, hot and foamy with calming aromatherapy oils she enjoys. She lays along his body, curled up, head on his chest, and he holds her close, massages the back of her neck and her shoulders with gentle fingers.

When they get out and dry off, she heads for her closet, returns with a box as tall as a thick book, a little less wide; she sets it on the bed, perches next to it, and looks up at him with expectant eyes.

“What’s this, baby?” he asks, approaching, and he kneels down, puts his arm around her and sets a hand on the box. “Is it for me?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s for you to put on me. I bought it a few weeks ago, but I… I need it now.” He lifts the lid, pulls out what he thinks at first is a wrist cuff but is actually a thick leather collar, with two metal rings attached to the front, and a… a leash. It’s made of metal chain, not long, with a leather loop to hold, and to say he’s caught off guard by this gift would be an understatement.

“You want me to put this on you? Can I ask why?” She moves toward him, puts her hands on the collar too, looks up at him with wide, wet eyes.

“Because I’m not my own person. You own me.” She tilts her neck, bares it, clearly waiting for him to put it on her, but what she’s saying doesn’t sit right with him, too many parallels to the case that made her so physically and mentally unwell.

“Baby, you are your own person. I love you for exactly who you are, and I would never try to own you, to take who you are away from you.” He presses his palm to her cheek, and she leans into it, kisses it with soft, gentle lips.

“It’s not you taking, daddy, it’s me giving. I need to give this to you—it’s the most important thing I have, and I need you to let me give this to you.” He exhales deeply, still not sold on the idea; she may think she wants this in the moment, feeling low as she is, but, what if she changes her mind? What if she no longer trusts his judgement because he plays into this when she’s not at her most clear-headed?

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking into her eyes, checking them for hesitation, but she only nods; he moves his hand from her cheek, gently pulls the collar out of her grip and brings it to her throat, buckles it at the nape of her neck. She sighs, something like relief when he leans back; she wets her lips, and her eyes are heavy.

“You own me, daddy. I’m yours, see?” She tilts her neck again, but all he sees is that it’s tight against her skin, maybe uncomfortably so. He frowns.

“Is it too tight? It looks too tight. I think we should take it off; maybe we can try again another night, when you didn’t have such a hard day.” He moves his hands to the back of her neck, wants to unbuckle it, but she gets upset almost instantly, looking down at her empty hands like they’re causing her pain. He covers them with his own, shushes her softly. “Oh, what is it, sweet girl? Daddy’s right here, it’s okay.”

“I just wanted to please you, daddy. Your name is on me, and I thought you would like it, but if you don’t want me this way…” That makes him pause, and he brings her hands to his lips, kisses them.

“What do you mean, my name is on you? What does that mean, baby?” She pulls her hand out of his, moves her hair out of the way, and then he sees it: his initials, AH, embossed on the collar in silver script.

God, it’s no wonder she had such a visceral reaction to the branding. And it’s no wonder she is stressing wanting to give this to him, when the other women had their choices taken from them. She has a choice, and she’s making it, and all he has to do is accept the gift she’s trying so hard to give to him.

“Please, daddy. I need to give this to you,” she murmurs, further solidifying what he now knows, and he wraps the chain around his hand, pulls it tight, tugs her close for a kiss.

The easy way the tension leaves her body at the possessive gesture makes him groan, and he kisses her so long and hard that—between the kissing and the collar—she is already in subspace when he pulls back to let them catch their breath.

“You’re mine, baby girl; my name is on you. I own you.” She pants, nods, puts her hands on his shoulders and looks into his eyes, so grateful, beautiful.

“Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy. I’m yours so tell me what to do and I’ll do it, anything. Please.” He kisses her again, then climbs onto the bed, loosens his grip on the chain a bit and pulls her with him as he lays back against the pillows. Her gaze is warm, brilliant, and he guides her to kneel between his legs, drops the leash and takes the black hair tie off of her wrist to sweep her hair back into a ponytail. It’s by no means perfect, but she likes when he does it, knows what it means; she’s already staring at his cock, and he’s willing to bet her mouth is watering in anticipation.

“I want you to suck for me, sweet girl. Owned girl.” Her eyelashes flutter and she wets her lips, nods enthusiastically. She wraps one hand around his cock, presses the other against his thigh, and he picks up the chain again, tightens it as she drops to cover him with her mouth.

She starts with short, wet, slow strokes, looking up at him through her pretty lashes, and he’s reduced to just his love for her and his need to come, as always when she does this for him. He moans softly, reaches down a hand to squeeze her breast, to give her some contact and pleasure, and she whines, moves a little faster.

He wasn’t planning to come this way, but he can think of plenty of ways to keep her occupied and feeling good while he recovers, so he wraps the chain around his hand one more time, guides her down, so she’ll take him deeper. She can do it, has been trained at her own request, because almost nothing makes her wetter than having her mouth full of his cock.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for daddy. Can I come down your throat, baby? Can you take it?” She nods, bobs, and he yanks the chain just to see what she will do.

It turns her into a bit of a feral little monster, humping her hips against nothing, digging her nails into his thigh, doubling down on her efforts to make him come, and he just tips his head back and enjoys it, pinches her nipple between his fingers.

“Yes, sweet girl. So close. Keep moving your hips, baby; horny, desperate girl. Daddy will let you come soon, just keep going.” Perfect woman that she is, she hums around him, takes him deeper yet; the chain is wound so far around his hand he thinks absently that he may as well just hold onto her collar, and when he hooks his finger around the metal ring she looks up at him and moans.

He comes holding onto that ring, and when she is finished swallowing for him he pulls her up by it, kisses her passionately, gratefully, and whispers praise against her lips; she is soaking wet, he can feel it where she is sprawled on his stomach, so he guides her to lay back on the bed and leans in for a couple more kisses.

“That was perfect, my sweet, owned girl. Did you like that?” He holds the chain loose and rubs two fingers over her clit, and she bucks up, nods her head.

“Yes, owner daddy. I love when you let me take you that far. It makes me achy,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs apart, very wide, presses a finger inside.

“I know, baby. I can feel how soft and wet you are for daddy. I want you to come on my fingers next, okay?”

“Yes, please, I want to. Want to come on them hard for you.” He leans in for a sweet, soft kiss, slides his finger out of her, then takes her hands and brings them together under her chin, wraps the chain around her wrists so they’re loosely bound, holding the handle in his fist. She moans like he’s destroying her, though he’s barely touched her, but when he slips two fingers inside her she just gasps softly and throws her head back, her stomach tensing.

“Such a pretty girl for me. I’m so lucky you’re all mine.” He is calm—or at least, he’s projecting calm—where she is keyed up, eager, desperate, and he always loves it like this, loves to see how much he can tease her, how long she will hold out until she’s begging for him to fuck her with his hand. “Can you stay still for me? I wonder how long you can stay still for me, sweet girl.”

“Mmm, daddy.” Her chest is heaving as he thrusts his fingers slowly in, then out, then rubs them up her pussy, between her lips, and then thrusts them back in. It’s got to be torture for her, but she just breathes. “I can stay still, daddy. I can do whatever you ask.”

He closes his eyes briefly, collects himself so he doesn’t let all that power go to his head, and pushes his fingers into her a bit faster just to watch her struggle to behave.

“Does that feel good, daddy’s girl?” She bites her lip and nods, offers him a strained god, yes, so he adds another finger; the fact that she can speak at all means she’s far too coherent for his liking. He leans up for a kiss, brushes his nose over her throat, along the edge of the collar, right where his initials are, and she lifts her hips but stops herself, whimpers. “Oh, baby, what is it? Are you needy?” he whispers in her ear.

“Needy, please daddy,” she pleads softly, her eyes focused on him when he pulls back to look at her face, but also a little far away at the same time. “Please, please, I need to come. I need to come, I’m achy.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make you come, sweet girl.” He presses their mouths together a couple times, losing his composure a little as she loses hers, and then he moves down between her open legs and rubs his tongue over her clit while pounding his fingers inside.

She is unable to resist moving her hips as she gets closer to climax, and he pulls away, pausing to look up into her eyes again. They’re very hazy now, and she’s whining high in her throat at the sudden lack of stimulation.

“If you don’t stay still, daddy will have to spank you, baby girl. Do you understand?” She nods lazily, and he taps his hand against her pussy, a couple of light slaps just to get her attention. She blinks, makes eye contact, and he asks again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy.” She flicks her tongue over her lips, closes her eyes, and he leans back in to roll his tongue over her clit, fingers moving quickly in and out of her. She remains still for about thirty seconds and then slams down hard against his hand, and from there she doesn’t stop. “Oh please, please. So close, please daddy,” she begs, pressing into the thrusts, and just when she is starting to come he wraps his hand around the chain around her wrists, tugs her body up so he can reach her mouth, and kisses her deep and wet while he fucks her through her orgasm.

She comes hard as promised, soaking his hand, moaning into the kiss—probably due to the fact that he’s holding her up by the leash, because displays of strength make her feel extremely submissive—and when she is through he lays her gently back, unwinds the chain and kisses her wrists.

“Good girl, you did so well. Daddy is so proud.” He leans up to press easy kisses to her cheeks and mouth, and she wraps her arms around his neck, making soft noises of contentment against his lips. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I love making you feel good. Do you love making me feel good?”

He knows she does, but likes to hear it, even when it’s just a sigh like the one she gives him now—he knows what all of her sounds mean, when she’s so deeply sunken into subspace that she's all begging and soft noises and daddy.

“Yeah, I know you do, sweetheart. Are you ready for me to come inside you? Daddy comes inside because he owns you.”

“Daddy, mmm,” she breathes, and he gets up on his knees, spreads them, and drapes her thighs over his, slides in easily because she is still so open and slick. He wraps one hand around her thigh and brings the other to the chain hooked to her collar, loops it around his forearm, and thrusts quick and smooth, grunting when she grabs his wrists and bucks her hips against him. “Oh, fuck. Oh.” She gasps when he pulls on the chain a little harder, bounces roughly against his thighs and whimpers her pleasure, then drops a hand to her pussy and rubs as he slams into her with equal desperation.

“Yes baby, fuck daddy. Good girl, rubbing your little pussy; if I come before you, you’ll have to wait a while, so I hope you get off first.” She whines unhappily at that, rubs faster, her head tipped back, and when he squeezes her breast with the hand holding the handle of the leash she wraps her legs tightly around his thighs and comes with his name on her lips.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow: he takes his hands off of her completely, since she’s holding on to him with her legs, and fucks her hard, pulling on the chain and muttering praise until he spills deep inside her. She is breathless, still but for the rise and fall of her chest, and he takes a moment before pulling out, unwrapping the chain from around his arm and encouraging her to turn onto her stomach.

She complies easily, looks fucked-out and spent, and he kisses along her spine, between her shoulder blades when he slides back into her.

“Again, daddy?” she asks, barely a whisper, and he runs his hands over her body, soft and soothing, leans in to put his weight against her back, his mouth at her ear.

“Not yet, baby girl, but I want to stay inside you, okay? How are you feeling?” She turns her head for a kiss, hums.

“Fuzzy. Good.” He kisses her again and moves his lips to her jaw, then her neck, right up against the collar.

“Is it uncomfortable? Too tight?” he asks softly. He doesn’t want to upset her by suggesting they take it off, but he’s been rough with it, so he wants to check.

“No, owner daddy. It’s perfect.” She gets her arm out from beneath her, reaches it around his neck and pulls him close, nuzzles against his throat. “I love you and I love being owned by you.”

“I love you, baby girl, and I love owning you. You’ve given me everything.”

This may have started as something to do to get her through the lingering effects of the case, but he would be lying if he said he doesn’t see and feel the value in the voluntary transfer of power, how easily she gave herself to him, willingly, completely. He kisses her again, sweet and slow, and then leans up, puts his hands on her ass, massages it.

“Do you need anything?” She murmurs yes, and he smiles a little to himself, rubs a hand up her back. “Thank you for telling me, baby. What can daddy do for you?”

“I need to be spanked, daddy. I couldn’t hold still.” She slides up to her hands and knees, knees spread wide, and though he’s no longer hard inside her, he doesn’t see that being a problem for long.

“That’s right. Good girl for reminding me.” He squeezes her ass, then lightly taps it, and she whimpers. “You were too horny, you couldn’t stay still. I’m not mad,” he promises with another tap. “I know how you get when I touch your pussy: you become such a messy, needy, desperate baby. You can’t help yourself.” She sighs, presses her ass back against him and tilts her head back a little.

“Can’t help myself, daddy,” is all she says, voice breathy and short, and he picks up the leash, holds it loosely along the length of her spine, and smacks her hard on the ass with an open palm.

She gasps, digs her fingers into the bedding, braces herself for more impact; by the sixth, she is grinding against him, panting and whining, her ass an angry red. She’s drenched in slick, and he’s hard again, so he grabs her ass roughly with both hands and thrusts a few times before spanking her a seventh time.

“Fuck daddy, yes daddy,” she moans, pushing eagerly into his thrusts; she fucks herself on his cock even when he’s still, even when his hands come down hard on her already irritated skin. “Mmh. I’m bad, daddy. I’m bad and I’m not perfect, but you still love me.” He exhales deeply, because he knows his girl well, and he knows this means she will be dropping, hard, as soon as she comes; he mentally prepares for the worst, just in case.

“You’re not bad, sweetheart, you are so good; not just to me, but to everyone.” He moves one hand to her hip, holds her steady, then grabs the chain with the other hand and pulls her closer while he pounds inside her. “And no, you’re not perfect, but you’re perfect for daddy; you’re smart, and sweet, and so beautiful, and I love you.” He drapes himself over her back, tugs on the chain so she will meet him for a gentle kiss, their lips so soft in contrast to the way their bodies meet, eager for release. “I love you, baby. Come and let daddy take care of you. Daddy will make it all better.”

She reaches back for him, covers his hand with hers and takes a deep, shuddering breath; it’s only a matter of time before the tears fall, and he would like to be holding her by then, so he curls his hand around to rub at her clit, murmurs reassurances and repeats that he’s got her, and she comes trembling, gasping beneath him.

He kisses her shoulders, thrusts a few more times and then pulls out to come on her hot, marked ass; breathless, he eases her body down onto the bed, leans up to brush her hair back and unbuckle the collar, sets it aside.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Time to rest and let daddy take care of you. You did so well for me, baby. You gave me everything; I will be so careful with it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, feels so much emotion for the sensitive, thoughtful, incredible woman beneath him it makes his chest ache. He brings a hand to her ass, rubs his come in, knows that it stings—but they both like this, and he knows she will expect it, would feel somehow inadequate if he didn’t. He presses a kiss to her lower back. “I’m going to get you some water, good girl. Amazing, special girl. Be right back.”

He grabs a pillow, brings it to her head and lifts it up so she’s pressed comfortably against it, then gives her a peck on the cheek and heads to the kitchen for water and a snack. When he returns, she’s clutching the pillow, turned to face the door so she can see him enter. He pulls her close, sits her up enough to give her a few sips of water, then sets down the glass and holds her against his chest, soft and shivering slightly in his arms.

“I know we just had a bath earlier, but would you like another? Or a shower?” He tugs the blanket loose and wraps it around them, rocks her a little. Gently removing the ponytail holder from her hair, he shakes it loose with his fingers, rubs her throat where the collar left a slight indentation. “Sweet, owned girl, I will give you anything you need, always. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

She cries, clutching at him, and he soothes her, squeezes her, moves his hands through her hair and brushes the tears off of her face; when the sobbing slows, he reaches carefully for tissues on the bedside table, dries her eyes and helps her blow her nose, then gives her more water. She looks a little better after drinking half the glass, so he convinces her to take a couple bites of food, rubs her sore ass with a soft hand.

“Can we shower? And then more of this?” she asks, just a whisper, and he nods and leans in for some slow, sweet presses of lips. Her fingers card through his hair, and he presses a hand to her cheek. “Thank you, daddy. I’m so grateful for you.”

“I’m grateful for you, too, baby. The world just isn’t right when you’re upset—when I can’t find that brilliant smile.” It’s not quite brilliant, but the corner of her mouth does curve up for him, which he considers a good sign. “Let’s go get cleaned up and then I’ll hold you until you’re sick of me,” he teases. He unwraps them and gets off the bed with her in his arms.

“Could never be sick of you ever. Perfect daddy, perfect man.” He shoots her a look, something like yeah right but not too self-deprecating, and she cuddles closer. “Okay, perfect for me, anyway. Strong, gentle owner daddy I know I can trust with everything.”

They shower—she practically purrs when he scrubs her head with shampoo, when he combs conditioner through her hair with his fingers—and slip into pajamas, and he takes the comforter to the laundry room and grabs the spare, wraps her up tight and pulls her close, hugs and kisses and talks to her about everything and nothing until she’s ready for some dinner and a movie on the couch.

She thanks him for everything he did to help her through it, but it’s really his pleasure; it’s where he finds his value, and he tells her so. Because she can’t wear the collar to work, he makes a stop on his lunch break a week later, sneaks into a jewelry store, and buys her a ring.

There is no room to inscribe his initials, but his intentions are heavily implied.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[no-pucks-given]

TYSON JOST | LIGHT MY WAY HOME

A/N: More than 12.000 words later, more than a month after the initial request from Taylor popped up in my notifications. What a freaking ride. My longest fic I've ever written, and maybe even my favourite one. Thank you, to everyone who hyped me up, send me inspo and send me sweet asks. I couldn't have done this without all of you. Special thanks to @dumb-and-dunner, @chicagoblackhawkslover96, @heybarzy and Chrissy (who doesn't have Tumblr unfortunately).

Warnings: Angst, ‘can I strangle him yet?’ Tyson, swearwords, some major character development and (how could I not?!) a happy ending.

Also: Gabe and Melissa Landeskog play a big part in this fic, so if you aren't comfortable with them, you might want to skip this one.

Word Count: 12.1K

Requested: Yes.

The NHL lifestyle, or the ‘popular’ lifestyle was attractive to all young, hormonal boys. You’d known that for a long time. You stood by Tyson’s side when he got drafted into the wicked world of the NHL. Parties, drinking, sex, training until you can barely move, fights, games, wins and losses. It all had it’s charms, but it also had its dangers. Just like any other guy Tyson wanted to experience it all, the whole package,

You assumed you fell under that ‘whole package’, you were his girlfriend for a reason, right? And you did, for a while. You partied together, came home together, did everything together. But the moment Tyson became older and ‘known’ outside the regular hockey fans, that title didn’t mean much anymore. He became more and more the type of guy you didn’t fall in love with, the type to take you for granted, the type to enjoy the attention of other people, other women in particular. You weren’t the jealous type, you didn’t want to claw out the eyes of every woman that looked at him, but you were at a breaking point. Maybe you were jealous, you weren’t jealous of those other women, you were jealous of the attention Tyson gave them. Attention he should’ve been giving to you, his freaking girlfriend.

You were however the loyal type, the type to come home after a long night. And that’s exactly where things went wrong with Tyson. While you were waiting for him at home with a meal, a warm bed or just simply anything else, he was out. You had no idea where he was exactly, he was simply ‘out’, whatever that might mean. You tried to talk to him, you tried to make him see that this wouldn’t end well for either of you, but he simply waved off your concerns, shrugged his shoulders and moved on.

How do you talk to someone who rediscovered himself? How do you talk to someone who thinks he’s on top of the world? How do you save someone from the downfall of success when they don’t want to be saved? You knew one day he’ll come down from this high, one day he’ll realize that he screwed up. One day he’ll come to the conclusion he let something special slip through his fingers, and for what? Fame? Drinks? A rush of adrenaline? One day. But you knew that it wouldn’t be today.

However today is the day that you’re done. Absolutely fed up with all the bullshit excuses Tyson has been feeding you, all the coming home late or not even coming home at all. You have no idea what he’s been up to these last months, he’s barely home. Even when he’s home it’s like he isn’t really there. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you slept together or the last time you actually went to bed at the same time. Breakfast together? A lifetime ago. A lazy day together? Can’t remember. Date night? Months, months ago. Even thinking about it pisses you off to no end, the pain and hurt slowly making place for a new emotion: anger.

It’s frustrating to say the least. You love and take care of him like he means the world to you, and he does. Tyson on the other hand seems to take you for granted, or forgets you’re here at all. It seems like you’re talking to a brick wall instead of your boyfriend. No matter how hard you try, your words have no impact, your tears don’t make him feel anything. It’s like he’s a totally different person. You barely recognize him anymore these days, he feels like a stranger inside the body of the man you love. It feels like you’re both living your life, besides each other instead of with each other. It hurts, that’s for sure.

Like any other day you’ve prepared dinner, put it on the table and sat down on one of the chairs. All you can do now is wait, wait and pray he’ll show up this time. You even texted him, begged him to come home and simply eat dinner with you for a change. Of course you didn’t get a response, of course it’s complete radio silence from his side. God, you were desperate at this point, you don’t even try to deny it.

With every passing minute your hope disappears little by little. You stare at the food on the table until it’s completely dark outside, no sign of Tyson. Hours passed and you barely noticed it, it isn’t until you try to stand up and your muscles ache from sitting in the same position for a long time that you realize how much time actually has passed. “Fuck this, why am I even trying anymore?” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. This isn’t worth it, it hasn’t been for a long time. Maybe, just maybe you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.

Deciding to choose yourself over Tyson is a major decision, one you probably should’ve made sooner. It doesn’t matter, what does matter is that you’re choosing you now. You make the split second decision to just grab your stuff, just the necessary stuff. You remember Gabe’s offer, at the time you waved it off with a smile, pretending it wasn’t as bad as it might look to the outside world, but now? You want nothing more than to take him up on his offer. So what’s stopping you?

Even though you were excruciating calm this whole time, the moment you step into your bedroom, or Tyson’s bedroom, you break. This is real, this is really happening. You grab your bags, filling them with some of your stuff. Some clothes, some toiletries, your makeup, everything you might need. It’s a tough job, it’s even harder when you almost can’t see past the tears. At some point you lose track of things you did and didn’t grab, just shoving random items into your bag.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your body sinking down on the floor. In your hands the box containing all your high school love letters, all the small gifts you made each other. Tyson was quite handy, who would’ve thought that? You smile at the memories, sorting through the box. You frown at the feeling surging through your body, is this how heartbreak feels? Looking down at the contents of the box you sigh, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. Why couldn’t life be as simple as it used to be? It shouldn’t be this hard, right? You grab your prom picture between your fingers, smiling sadly at the two people in the picture, both smiling like they just won the lottery, both utterly in love with the other. How time can change..

You throw the box on the bed, maybe it will remind Tyson what the two of you had was special, maybe he’ll realize what he’s about to lose. If it doesn’t, well, it’s his loss. Hauling your bags downstairs is a full workout, you intended to bring ‘just the essentials’ but you have way more important stuff than you originally thought. You aren’t planning on returning to this house any time soon.

Shutting the car door after you loaded in your stuff gives you some form of relief. You let out the breath you’ve been holding in. You made your decision, it’s time to follow through now. You make your way back inside, and into the kitchen. Cleaning up all leftovers from dinner, which obviously is a lot more than you expected. Although.. did you really think he would show up? You shake your head again, putting the leftovers into the fridge. After you finish the dishes you retreat back to the living room, falling down on the couch with a loud sigh. All you can do now is wait.

You could’ve just left and never look back, but that isn’t your style. If you’re going to leave, you’ll do it the right way. You won’t leave without giving him a piece of mind, letting him know he fucked this up for good. You try to focus on the movie playing on the screen, but your heart keeps beating harder and harder, at this point you wish you would’ve just left instead of waiting for Tyson to show up. God, why did you have to do it the right way? Because you know, deep down, you would’ve wanted him to do it the same way. It’s the humane thing to do, it’s only right after spending such a long time together.

The front door opening brings you out of your thoughts. Honestly you don’t even know what time it is, but frankly you don’t care. All you want right now is to get this off your chest and leave. Tyson’s eyes widen when he comes face-to-face with you, surprisingly he doesn’t seem that intoxicated. You suspected he went out, but at this point he could’ve been anywhere.

“You’re still up,” Tyson says, walking past you and flopping down on the couch.

“Yep, and you missed dinner,” you counter, crossing your arms. Tyson simply shrugs his shoulder, clearly not caring enough to explain his absence. “I texted you to make sure you would be here,” you say, even though you know it doesn’t make a difference.

“Yeah, I was busy,” Tyson answers, looking down at his phone.

You almost feel the need to chuckle, to start laughing at his stupid behavior, but this is anything but funny to you, it fucking hurts. “I’m done, Tyson. I’m fucking done,” you say, shaking your head, trying so hard to keep the tears away.

Tyson looks at you with dull eyes, no emotion visible on his face. “Then go to fucking bed, I really can’t deal with your problems right now,” he sighs, turning his head back to the phone in his hand.

Right now, at this moment you know you made the right decision. This isn’t behavior of someone who’s in love, this isn’t even behavior of someone who loves. “You don’t have to deal with me anymore, because I’m leaving. I’m done, we’re done,” you tell him, emphasizing the last part. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours, the panic clearly written all over his face now.

“No, we’re not. You can’t break up with me, y/n!” he almost shouts at you, standing up from the couch.

“Yes, I can and I will. You don’t get to act like you care all of the sudden, Tyson. You haven’t acted like a boyfriend in months. You haven’t given me any reason to stay, so I won’t. I’m done with whatever this is,” you say, waving between the two of you. Tyson grabs your wrist, tears starting to pool in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. “No. No. You don’t get to do this. It’s over. You put on quite a show, but I can’t say it was very entertaining. This curtain fucking closes right now, show is over. You can act like you care, but I know by now that you don’t,” you tell him, ripping your arm out of his grip.

You walk over to the front door, keeping your head high. Now is not the time to break down, your time will come. You hear Tyson behind you, muttering how sorry he is, excuse after excuse leave his mouth. You open the door, turning around one last time to look at Tyson. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not,” you say while shaking your head. You close the door behind you, not looking back at what you’ve left behind, only looking forward to what’s yet to come.

It’s when you’re in your car mindlessly driving around when you realize you have nowhere to go. You forgot to call Gabe, and it’s probably way too late now. You quickly check the time, 2am, shit that’s late. You doubt he’s still awake, you feel bad for even thinking about waking him up. Two young children, both of them under the age of 2, and being a professional hockey player probably cost him enough energy already, you don’t need to add to that. “He did say I could always call him when I made my decision,” you say out loud, more to convince yourself that it’s okay than anything else.

You easily find Gabe’s contact, immediately pressing the dial button before you change your mind again. The line only rings twice before Gabe picks up. “I’m guessing you either finally broke up with him or there’s a fire somewhere,” Gabe says from the other side of the line. You chuckle, shaking your head. “And since you’re calling me and not the fire department, my guess is on the first one,” Gabe continues, trying to make you smile some more.

“I did it, I broke up with him, couldn’t stand to be there any second longer,” you sigh, brushing your fingers through your hair.

You hear Gabe’s sigh of relief. “I’m proud of you, y/n. I know this isn’t what you had in mind, but it’s better like this, I promise.”

Gabe turned into one of your best friends over time, Melissa is the older sister you never had and you love their children like they’re your own. Gabe and Melissa welcomed you into their family immediately after meeting you. You hadn’t expected to make friends and you definitely didn’t expect to make friends with the captain and his wife, but you’re so grateful you did. The support you receive from them is overwhelming, you couldn’t wish for better friends. So when Gabe first made you this offer, you were thankful he did, although you were still convinced at that point that Tyson would change.

“Uhm, you know.. that offer you made me? Is that still on the table?” you ask, praying he’ll say ‘yes’, praying you don’t have to sleep in some random hotel tonight.

“Of course, the guestroom is already prepared. Melissa expects you to be here as soon as possible, apparently she ‘really needs to cuddle her little sister’,” Gabe chuckles, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at his wife.

“Thank you, Gabe. I owe you,” you say softly.

“You don’t. You’re family, y/n,” Gabe says, and you know he means every word he just said. Family. “Now get your ass over here, before Melissa starts a search party,” Gabe chuckles, making you laugh some more, because you know she would. You quickly say your goodbyes, promising you’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s just a short drive from your apartment, or Tyson’s apartment now, to Gabe and Mel’s place.

You kept up your appearance, keeping the tears at bay, but the moment you step out of your car and into Gabe’s arms you’re done. “Come here, I’m so sorry,” Gabe says softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You stand there for a few minutes, simply crying on your best friend’s shoulder, until Melissa squeezes herself between the two of you. “Hush, I need some sister time. Why don’t you grab her stuff?” she says, smiling sweetly at her husband.

Gabe sighs dramatically, sending a wink your way. “Whatever you say, wife.”

Melissa pulls you close to her, an arm around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you your room,” she softly says, leading you into the house. You’ve been here so many times already, but never like this. You’ve never been in a situation like this before, you’re not sure how to handle this. “I can hear the wheels turning in your head. It will be okay,” Melissa says, rubbing your arm soothingly. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders, not sure what to say.

Melissa leads you to your room, pushing you down on the bed, while she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but do you want to talk?” Melissa asks softly, her face showing nothing but compassion.

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all that has happened. “I don’t even know what to say, Mel. I don’t even know how I feel right now. I’m just so...” you trail off, not knowing the right words to describe everything that you feel and think right now.

“Confused, relieved, mad?”

You sit back up, looking back at Melissa. “All of the above, I guess? It hurts, but I’m glad I did it. But I also regret it, because I love him, you know? I’m mad he didn’t try harder for me, for us,” you say, trying hard to keep the rush of tears away.

Melissa wraps her arms around you, pulling you close to her. “I know, sweetheart. It will take time, but you’re going to be okay.”

You sigh, knowing she’s right, even though it probably will take more time than just ‘some time’. You did just end a long relationship, it will take a lot of patience and time to work through that. “Thank you, Mel. For letting me stay here,” you mumble against Melissa’s shoulder.

“No need for that. You’re my sister, remember?” Melissa smiles at you.

Gabe softly knocks on the door before opening the door. “Brought your bags, thought you might need them before you go to sleep,” he says, smiling at the sight before him. Your friendship might be unconventional, but he couldn’t care less what other people think about it. Gabe absolutely adores the sister bond you and Mel share, he hoped the two of you would get along, so this? Picture perfect.

“Thanks, Gabe,” you smile at him.

“Do you mind if I steal my wife from you?” Gabe asks, making you and Melissa laugh out loud.

“Nope, she’s all yours,” you chuckle, waving at their retreating backs when they walk out of the room.

You strip out of your clothes, pulling on a sweater. You sigh, realizing you packed some of Tyson’s sweaters out of habit. His smell infiltrates your senses, making it damn hard to keep your emotions under control. It’s right this moment you know exactly how you feel. Heartbroken. The realization that your relationship with Tyson is really over doesn’t give you the satisfaction you hoped for, it doesn’t give you peace, it just fucking hurts. You simply feel hollow, even though deep down you know this was the right choice, this was what needed to happen. You know damn well why you feel so empty, you gave your heart to Tyson a long, long time ago, never expecting to be in a situation you might get it back. You don’t want it back, but you might need it back.

You realize it’s morning when the light softly shines into your room. You sigh, knowing damn well you’re lucky if you slept more than an hour this night. Rolling over you look at the clock on the wall, 9 am, perfect. Deciding it won’t do you any good if you stay in bed any longer, you force yourself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water warms your cold skin, soothing your sore muscles. All the twisting and turning you did all night surely didn’t help the way you feel right now. Why couldn’t life be a bit easier by simply letting the shower wash away all of your hurt, all of your pain? A fresh start, a clean slate.

You slip on some skinny jeans and a soft sweater, not in the mood to even think about doing your makeup. You dry your hair, before making a quick ponytail out of it. You walk down stairs, the chatter and laughter greeting you as soon as you walk into the kitchen. “Morning, guys,” you say, smiling at all the happy faces before you. A round of greetings sound throughout the room.

“How’d you sleep?” Gabe asks you as soon as you sit down next to him with a bowl of cereal.

“Can’t even tell you, suddenly it was 9 am,” you chuckle, shrugging your shoulders at Gabe’s raised eyebrow. “Do you have any idea where my phone is?” you ask Gabe, knowing he grabbed all your stuff out of your car.

“Uhh, I do, but I don’t know if you really want to look at it,” Gabe says, scratching the back of his head before pointing towards the kitchen counter. It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, walking over to where Gabe’s pointing at.

You unlock your phone, quickly checking your notifications. “Oh damn,” you mutter, looking at the absurd amount of missed calls and messages left by none other than Tyson himself.

You sit back down next to Gabe, dropping your head on your arms. “What do I do now, Gabe?” you groan. “Why does he care all of the sudden?”

Gabe rubs his hand over your back before answering your question. “Because he lost you, y/n. He never thought he would.” You turn your head towards Gabe letting his words sink in.

Gabe gets ready to leave for practice shortly after you settle on the couch with Lucas in your arms. The little man has a fascination with your hair, maybe it’s all babies who have that, but you like to think that you’re special. “Don’t pull out all y/n’s hair, baby boy,” Gabe chuckles, giving his boy a soft kiss on his head. He gives you a kiss on your cheek, softly squeezing your shoulder. You open your mouth to say something, but Gabe cuts you off. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry about it, I’m his captain, but I’m your friend, okay? Just relax, make sure Lucas doesn’t puke on you and go do whatever it is that you women do all day,” Gabe chuckles, knowing you better than you know yourself. You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ to him, wishing him good luck with practice before he runs through the house trying to find his girls to kiss them goodbye.

“Your daddy is a good guy, you know that, Lucas?” you smile at the baby on your lap. Lucas coos, his hands grabbing onto the strands of your hair. “Your daddy and mommy make me feel so loved, even though their children like to see me in pain,” you joke, trying to free your hair from Lucas’s small hands. “Buddy, you’re way stronger than you look,” you mumble, when Lucas pulls on your hair again.

Melissa laughs out loud the moment she walks into the living room. “How many times did I tell you that you need to keep your hair away from him and his grabby hands?” she says, expertly freeing your hair from her son’s fists.

“Apparently not enough times,” you chuckle at her. Melissa joins you on the couch, while Linnea Rae plays on the ground with some of her toys, happily showing you what she got every now and then. It’s times like this that you’re extra grateful for Melissa and Gabe, the way they welcomed you into their family has been nothing but perfect.

“So, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Melissa asks, while scrolling through series to watch on Netflix.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, I’m kind of worried about practice, I think? I don’t want to put Gabe in this position,” you say, keeping your eyes on Lucas.

“You know Gabe would do anything for you, huh? You don’t know how many times he came home utterly frustrated by the way Tyson treated you. He never said anything, because you were still with him, I can’t promise you he will stay quiet this time,” Melissa says, squeezing your shoulder. “He’ll be fine, this isn’t Gabe’s first rodeo.”

You look at Melissa, who simply gives you a wink. “I know, I know. I just don’t want him to get in trouble or anything,” you say, smiling back at her. You trust and know Gabe, so hopefully there won’t be a lot of trouble today.

“If he does though, he probably deserves it.”

Gabe surprises you all with some takeaway when he gets home from practice. It’s been nice eating with other people for change, it’s been way too long. The amount of lonely dinners has been through the roof lately. Gabe nudges you with his elbow, causing you to look up at him. “No frowning at the table.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at her husband while you just stick out your tongue at him. “Sure, dad,” you say, causing Melissa to almost choke on her bite of food before she lets out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, dad. Leave us alone,” Melissa laughs, winking at her husband. Gabe shakes his head at you and Melissa, a grin plastered on his face.

It’s during dessert you find the courage to ask about Tyson. You weren’t sure if you needed to ask Gabe, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know anything, but now you know you do. “So, did anything happen during practice?” you ask him, playing around with your spoon.

Gabe shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Not much, just some chirping. Told him I’m his captain and he needs to fucking focus on practice. That seemed to do the trick,” Gabe says, shrugging his shoulders, continuing to eat his dessert.

You look across the table at Melissa who has the same expression on her face as you. Not convincing at all. ‘Sure,’ Melissa mouths at you from across the table. You shake your head at her, furrowing your eyebrows at Gabe’s statement. ‘Nope,’ you mouth back at her, finishing your dessert. You decide to let it go, you don’t even know why you care so much. You shouldn’t, right? You broke things off with Tyson, so why do you care so much what he does and thinks? The answer to that question is pretty simple the longer you think about it. Because you still love him, that’s why.

You thank everyone for dinner and dessert, promising to cook something from them later this week. Right now all you can think about is your bed and a decent night of sleep. God, that sounds like a true dream right now. You strip out of your clothes, crawling into the soft and cozy bed. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep, showing just how exhausted you truly are.

The weeks that follow are filled with all kinds of activities, the 5 of you falling back into a comfortable rhythm, surprising you considering the situation you’re in. It isn’t every day you take in the ex-girlfriend of one of your teammates, or your best friend, whatever way you want to see things. When you aren’t working you spend a lot of time with the kids, trying to make things easier for Melissa and Gabe whenever they are busy or simply need some time for the two of them. You happily take on some of their care, even if it’s as simple as making sure they get their food in time. Honestly they are two of the sweetest children you’ve ever come across, they always find ways to make you laugh, even though most of the time it isn’t on purpose.

It’s been quiet around the house tonight, Melissa went out with a few of her friends, while she left Gabe and the kids with you. Apparently she needed some ‘alone time’ which didn’t include kids, and definitely didn’t include Gabe after he mentioned he wanted some ‘alone time’ with her as well. You love their friendly bickering, the love they have for each other visible in everything they do. So when Melissa gave her husband a dirty look and flipped him the bird the only logical thing to do was to start laughing at their exchange. “Have fun with them, sweetheart!” Melissa had yelled at you when she walked through the door, leaving the four of you behind.

Together you decide to just have a movie night. It’s late enough for both children to be asleep already, yet early enough to squeeze in a full size movie marathon. “Gladiatorrrrr!” Gabe exclaims excitedly while scrolling through the movie selection on Netflix, pausing on his all-time favorite movie.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please no, have mercy, Gabe,” you laugh, knowing damn well you’re going to sit through this movie again. How many times has it been already? 12? You wouldn’t even be surprised. This dude really loves his movie. You look at Gabe from between your fingers, seeing the look on his face which makes you groan even more. “Fineeee, one more time, Gabe. One more time,” you whine at him, secretly enjoying his taste in movies, something you don’t plan on telling him ever.

It’s a little after 10pm when the doorbell rings. You look at Gabe, who looks just as surprised as you are. “It’s a bit early for Mel, don’t you think?” Gabe asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Definitely, unless she drank the whole bottle of champagne again,” you chuckle, thinking back at one of the craziest parties you’ve ever been to with Mel and Gabe.

“Oh God, please don’t remind me of that,” Gabe shudders at the memory of that night, standing up to see who’s on the other side of the door.

Gabe hates to say that he isn’t surprised to see Tyson’s face as soon as he opens the door. Honestly he had expected him at his door days, maybe even weeks ago. The moment Tyson found out you were staying with Gabe he broke, Gabe expected him to fight, to yell, to scream, he expected him to do anything except cry. Which is exactly what Tyson did, breaking down in the middle of practice. For a moment the whole place went quiet, only Tyson’s cries echoing throughout the building. No one knew how to act, no one knew what to do, until Gabe realized he’s the captain for a reason. On and off the ice. It was a weird experience, one Gabe still feels extremely conflicted about. He comforted his teammate, his friend, while his other friend was at his home, utterly heartbroken, trying to get over the guy who was bawling his eyes out on the ice.

After Tyson got over the initial shock the anger took over, just as Gabe expected. It made him almost drop the gloves, something he tried to avoid, not wanting to hurt Tyson. He let him say his things, things that absolutely didn’t make any sense, until he got everything out of his system. “Now can we continue this fucking practice, Jost?” Gabe told him after everything calmed down. Gabe tried to avoid the Tyson/y/n topic as much as possible after that, not wanting to get in the middle of things more than he already was. Until tonight apparently.

Gabe raises an eyebrow at the boy before him. “Why are you here, Tyson?” Gabe sighs, already knowing the answer to that question.

Tyson looks around, eyes flickering from left to right, clearly uncomfortable being here. “I, uh, can I talk to y/n? I know she’s here,” Tyson asks, scratching the back of his head before putting them back in his pockets.

Gabe shakes his head at him. “You can’t, if she wants to talk to you she will find a way to contact you. As long as you don’t get your shit together and prove to me, but most of all to her, that you’ve changed, I won’t let you anywhere near her,” Gabe declares, starting to get annoyed with the way Tyson acts. There’s no way he lets him close to you until you feel like you’re ready to see him again, no way.

Tyson opens his mouth, but Gabe gives him a look that immediately shuts him up again. “I’m saying this as your captain, and definitely not as your friend right now. Go home and leave her the fuck alone. You had your chance, you fucked up and now you have to deal with the consequences. How you deal with those said consequences is up to you, but I suggest you leave now and think about everything you did and didn’t do, okay?” Tyson nods his head, turning around to walk back to his car.

When he’s a few steps away from his car he turns around, smiling sadly at Gabe. “She’s my home, Gabe. Home doesn’t feel the same without her. You out of all people should understand that.”

Gabe chuckles low, shaking his head at his clueless teammate. “I do. I do know what home feels like, but I never, never choose anyone or anything over my ‘home’. Never. You sure as hell did, time after time,” Gabe says frustratedly, before shutting the door, leaving behind an even more frustrated Tyson.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you caught the sound of Tyson’s voice when you walked to the kitchen, grabbing some more popcorn. You didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, but it felt like you were glued to your place, unable to take another step, unable to do anything but listen.

Gabe walks back into the room, the look on your face immediately letting him know you know. “How much did you hear?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly.

“Enough,” you whisper, before breaking down, no longer able to keep the tears locked away, no longer able to keep your emotions to yourself.

With two steps Gabe is in front of you, grabbing the bowl of popcorn you held onto between your trembling fingers. He guides you back to the couch, urging you to sit down, which is a true challenge for someone who can barely feel the ground they walk on. Gabe wraps his arms around you the moment you sit down, allowing you to cry onto his shoulder as much as you want and need. He whispers sweet nothings while softly brushing your hair out of your face, making sure you have room to breath. Time after time Gabe proves what kind of friend he is, always making sure to be there for you when he’s needed, always doing things with the best intentions. Even if it’s just holding you until you calm down, even if it’s just speaking the truth against Tyson, even if it’s just simply being there for one another.

“Sooner or later he would’ve realized what he lost, what he gave up for an evening of clubbing or God knows what. Apparently it’s sooner rather than later, however make sure you make him work for it, if you ever decide you want to give the two of you another chance,” Gabe softly advises you, when you finally calmed down a bit.

“I will, you know I love him, Gabe. But I don’t know if I should?” you mumble, not sure if it’s a question Gabe has the answer to.

“Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. If he’s serious about you, he will work his ass off to earn back your love and trust, I promise you,” Gabe comforts you, after knowing Tyson for so long he’s positive he knows that Tyson goes above and beyond to get what he wants in life.

Maybe it’s Gabe’s comforting words, maybe it’s knowing deep down Tyson still cares, maybe it’s your own strength, but for the first time in a while you feel a tiny flicker of hope, a little bit of light at the end of the dark tunnel. Maybe, just maybe this was all worth it, maybe this is what needed to happen to get better and move forward. Maybe this is how it was supposed to go.

It’s a weird feeling, knowing your ex still cares about you, but also knowing you aren’t ready to let him back into your life like that. You don’t feel like you’re capable of seeing him yet, let alone talk to him. The need to know how he’s doing, how he’s holding up grows, but also confuses you. It’s simply a weird and confusing situation to be in. Choosing between two, maybe even more ways to handle this, while also waiting for Tyson to make a move, which he obviously can’t since you don’t want to see him or speak to him, is a hard task. A task that will require a lot of thinking. You just need a bit more time to gather your thoughts, give all of your confusing feelings a place, while making sure you put yourself first, you need to put yourself first this time.

So when Gabe invites you to one of his home games a few weeks later you say ‘yes’ right away. It seems like the perfect time and place to see Tyson from a distance again, without putting too much stress on yourself, you can just watch and enjoy the game, you don’t have to force anything. Of course your seats turned out to be way closer to the ice than you expected them to be, although... what did you exactly expect with Gabe? You know he’s been talking to both of you, kind of acting like some sort of messenger. He tried to keep it casual, just slipping in some information during a conversation, but you noticed what he was trying to do. Frankly you’re thankful for his meddling.

Steadily your heart starts to beat faster and faster the more players appear on the ice to warm up. When Gabe appears you aren’t surprised to see Tyson close to him, knowing Gabe they probably had a little chat before they went on the ice. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours the moment he’s close by, completely forgetting the ability to skate. You gasp when he lands on his ass on the ice, earning himself a round of laughter from the people around him, including Melissa and you. Gabe skates over to him, extending his hand and helping him upright again, but not before clearly telling him he’s ‘a dumbass’. Now that’s something you can agree on.

You know Tyson has something up his sleeve when he skates off to the bench, clearly busying himself with something you can’t see. After a few more stolen glances at each other Tyson skates closer and closer to you, until he’s right in front of the glass. His left hand catches your attention, until he gives you a small and almost shy smile. “Look at him, he’s blushing!” Melissa whispers next to you. You shoot her a quick ‘shut up’ look, before you focus your attention back on Tyson.

Tyson shows you the puck in his gloved hand, mouthing to you to catch it. It takes him two tries before the puck lands on the other side of the glass, safely in your hands. Tyson gives you one last quick smile before he skates off to get ready for the game. Melissa nudges you softly, bringing you back from your thoughts. “So, what’s on there?” she asks, knowing damn well you haven’t even checked.

“I don’t know if I want to look, Mel,” you tell her honestly. Melissa gives you a sad smile, throwing her arm around your shoulders.

“Let’s look together?” she suggests. You don’t know why you’re so nervous, how much can you actually write on a puck? He seemed happy to see you, so there’s no need to be nervous that it’s a bad thing. You look at the puck, turning it around in your hands so you can read the whole thing. ‘Talk after the game?’ is written on the puck, you immediately recognize Tyson’s handwriting and his little smiley face, or.. something that should resemble a smiley face.

“That wasn’t that bad, right?” Melissa asks softly, squeezing your shoulder.

“What if I’m not ready?” you ask her, a question that has been on your mind a lot lately.

“Then you take a step back, you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, you don’t have any obligations. But he’s trying, y/n. You’ve heard all of Gabe’s stories, you’ve seen it yourself just now. It can’t hurt to at least talk to him.” You think about Melissa’s words, she does have a point there. Talking is something you should’ve done ages ago, or at least Tyson should’ve done that. So this is progress, he’s at least trying this time, that’s more than he used to do.

It’s hard to keep the smile off your face, you can’t even pinpoint why exactly you’re smiling. Whatever the reason is, it’s a good feeling to smile again. The game sure as hell plays a big part in it, the guys are on fire, scoring goal after goal, never giving the puck away for long. There’s barely any time for you to give Tyson a thumbs up, indicating you’re up for a talk after the game. Whenever you look at Tyson when he’s off the ice he’s smiling, whether it is to himself or to one of his teammates, that smile won’t leave his face.

You follow Melissa down to the locker room after the game is over. You’ve done this so many times, but this time it couldn’t be more different. You greet all the girls who are patiently waiting on their man, getting enough comforting words from them to last you a lifetime. When the door to the locker room opens you come face-to-face with Mikko, someone you haven’t seen in a while. Mikko’s face lights up when he spots you outside the locker room. “y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long,” he says, while hugging you tightly.

“I missed you too, goof. It’s great to see you,” you smile at him, wiggling out of his iron grip. Dude’s definitely stronger than he looks.

“Between you and me, Tyson’s a good kid, he just needed to grow up a bit,” Mikko whispers against your ear, before leaving you alone again.

You raise your eyebrow at Melissa, who just shrugs her shoulders. Weird. After a few more minutes Gabe and Tyson appear in front of you, both of them joking around. Tyson nervously looks around, not sure if he should come any closer. Gabe hugs you swiftly before throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Make sure you bring her home safely, Jost,” Gabe warns him, before quickly saying goodbye to both of you.

You watch them leave, your mouth agape by the way they just left you here. Rude. “Did they just really do that?” you ask no one in particular, still shocked by their actions.

You turn around, looking back at Tyson, who still appears to be nervous. Is he nervous to talk to you? Why would he be nervous? It’s just you. “Hi there,” you smile, looking up at the man in front of you.

“Hi beautiful, it was nice seeing you tonight,” Tyson softly says, giving you a small smile.

Your insides flutter with his use of words, it’s nice hearing them even though you’re not completely sure if he means them the way you hope he does. “It was. You played great, I had a lot of fun,” you say, smiling at the proud look that crosses Tyson’s face for a moment.

Tyson leads you back to the rink, which is now completely deserted, thinking it would be a nice place to chat. For a while the two of you fall back into small talk, ‘how’s life?’, ‘how’s work?’, all that bullshit. You know Tyson and you are avoiding the actual topic that needs to be discussed, or topics? Whatever it is, there’s a lot to talk about. “I missed it here, I forgot how much I loved being here,” you tell Tyson, looking at the lights that lighten up the place, thinking back at the memories full of fun and happiness you both created here.

“I missed you, baby,” Tyson blurts out, completely catching you off guard.

Your eyes shoot back to his, you feel the panic rising inside your body. “Tyson...,” you start, warning him he’s walking on thin ice here.

Tyson’s face falls a bit, seeing the anxious look on your face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Tyson groans, rubbing his face harshly, utterly frustrated with himself and the situation.

It’s quiet for a minute, both of you completely lost in thoughts. “Why is this so hard? We used to be able to talk about anything and everything. What changed, y/n?” Tyson wonders out loud.

You feel a painful pang in your heart, because you know damn well what changed. “You did, Tyson. You changed,” you almost whisper, the truth behind those words more clear than ever before.

You watch as Tyson’s whole composure changes in the blink of an eye, in just a split second he goes from the ‘happy’ guy to the guy who’s just as heartbroken as you are. “I did, didn’t I?” Tyson whispers, the tears pooling in his eyes. “I fucked this up, how could I be so stupid?” he mumbles, burying in face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I regret this more than I could ever admit to you. I’m so sorry, baby,” Tyson cries, trying to keep his eyes focused on you. It’s hard to keep your own tears at bay when the guy you love so much has a breakdown in front of you, so you don’t. You just let them fall.

You don’t make a move to comfort him, you do give him room to let it all out, give him time to gather his composure again. “I looked through the box, the one you left on our bed?” Tyson says, his voice still broken, still thick with emotion. You nod your head, it was something you hoped he would do. “I had no idea you kept all of that throughout the years,” Tyson smiles weakly at you. “It made me realize what a moron I have been these past few months, maybe even longer,” he continues, shaking his head in disappointment. You listen intently at him, this, this is what you hoped for all this time: realization.

“I’m not telling you that you weren’t a moron, because you absolutely were. But I’m glad you came to the same conclusion.”

Tyson chuckles at your statement, giving you half a smile. “I know, I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass for acting this way and a dumbass for letting you go. Any guy would be on top of the world with you by his side, and I just let you slip through my fingers,” Tyson tells you, finally showing he knows he’s been a fool all this time, he knows he let something special go.

“Is it too late for us? Can you give us another chance?” Tysons asks you, his eyes flickering between you and the ground.

You sigh softly, knowing this question would come. It’s something you gave a lot of thought, something that crossed your mind daily. “I don’t know, Tyson. I really don’t know. You really fucking hurt me, you know? I can’t just look past that, I need to heal from that,” you tell him. Tyson nods his head, a guilty expression on his face. “You made me feel worthless every single day. You didn’t even give me a second of your time day after day. All you cared about was being away. Being away from me?”

It’s right that moment Tyson interrupts you by grabbing your hands. “No. No. That’s not true, you need to believe me,” he tells you as fast as he can.

“But how can I believe you when you never gave me a reason to? Your actions showed me exactly that, Tyson. I need answers, I need to know why,” you exclaim, starting to panic again, your anxiety taking over.

“Easy, baby. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, everything you want, but right now I need you to breath. Breathe, baby,” Tyson says softly, trying to calm your shallow breathing back down to normal. “Listen to my breathing, try to follow the way I breathe.” You do as he says, following the rise and fall of his chest, gaining back control of your own breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, while Tyson just shakes his head at you, letting you know it’s okay. “Can you take me home, Ty? We can talk later, okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling the need to crawl underneath the covers of your bed and just simply sleep for a while.

“Anything you want, y/n,” Tyson says, leading you out of the room and back to his car. You’re pretty sure he mumbled something under his breath, something very closely resembling ‘your home isn’t there, it’s with me’.

The drive to Gabe takes longer than expected, giving you more time to think about Tyson’s earlier question. You still need and want to know how he spent his nights, where he spent his nights, and why he acted like you didn’t exist. That conversation might need to wait until another day, you aren’t up for any more information, any more realizations, you still need to process everything you heard, saw and felt today.

Tyson stops the car in front of Gabe’s house, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. You know he still hopes he gets an answer to his earlier question, and you want to give him at least that. “You need to show me you changed, Tyson. Show me you changed for real and I’ll try to get past everything that happened. I can’t promise you anything,” you tell him softly, meaning everything you just said.

Tyson nods his head, a smile of relief on his lips. “I will, I promise you I will show you I changed and that you’re everything to me. I promise, baby.”

So that’s exactly what Tyson does the next few weeks, every free moment he tries to show you just how much you mean to him, without smothering you. Whether it’s taking you out for dinner, although you’re still waiting for Tyson to actually make you dinner by himself one day, to small coffee dates and fresh flowers at work. It’s been a lot to process, a lot of adjusting to this ‘new’ Tyson, or rather seeing the ‘old’ Tyson again. And you missed him, God you missed him so much.

Tyson seems happier, more at peace with himself these days, it’s a pleasant change. Often you wondered what was really going on inside his head, but you stopped trying after he waved it off again, and again, and again. The late night phone calls, or facetiming during road trips have become a habit again, something you didn’t think you would ever experience again with him. You still take things slow with Tyson, deciding to rather allow yourself to slowly start trusting him again than diving head first into a relationship again. Maybe it will never come that far again, you don’t know how the future will look like for the two of you, but for now it’s enough.

You come face-to-face with a smirking Melissa when you get home from yet another ‘iced coffee and donut’ date, even though you’re pretty sure Tyson isn’t allowed to eat any donuts. “Oh no,” you groan at Melissa’s expression.

“It’s time we have a little sister-sister conversation, don’t you think?” she asks you, ushering you into the living room.

“Do we?” you groan again, not in the mood to handle whatever Melissa wants to talk about now, because you already know it’s either about you, Tyson or you and Tyson.

Melissa flops down on the couch, patting the place next to her, indicating for you to sit your ass down. “Did you already talk to him about it?” she asks, straight to point in pure Melissa-style.

You let your head fall back against the cushions, sighing loudly. “I didn’t. We’re doing great, we’re having fun. I’m going to ruin it if I start asking questions again.”

Melissa stays quiet for a minute, trying to figure out the right way to approach this sensitive topic. “You know you deserve the truth, right? You can’t rebuild a relationship when not everything’s on the table, sweetheart,” Melissa says softly, knowing you’re struggling with this.

“I promise I’ll talk to him after the road trip, I don’t want to create any unnecessary negative energy before,” you promise Melissa, although she gives you a ‘who are you trying to fool here’ look before switching topics.

A few days later you find yourself back at Tyson’s place. It’s weird being here, knowing you don’t live here anymore. Nothing changed, absolutely nothing, Tyson kept everything the way you did, whether it’s out of laziness or out of hope you’ll come back on day. Either way it’s weird coming back to a place that’s no longer your home. You came here to talk, nothing more nothing less. You promised Mel you would, and if you’re being honest with yourself it’s time to know the truth, time to reopen old wounds and finally get some answers. You’ve grown closer and closer to Tyson, without knowing everything, without knowing you’d be able to forgive him if he ever made a misstep. It’s time.

Tyson has been a nervous wreck ever since you called him last night after he returned from the road trip to St. Louis. He knew this was coming, but he prayed you would simply forget, even though he knows that’s not fair at all. He can’t excuse his behavior, and he won’t, not anymore. You deserve nothing but the truth, the full truth. He’s not proud of it, but you leaving him opened his eyes, showed him he really needed to change. Tyson feels like that’s something he truly did, he changed for the better, he can only hope you’ll feel the same way. He can only hope you’re still on the same path after tonight.

“You did great these last games, Ty,” you smile at him. You’re proud of the way he’s been performing these last couple of games, he really stepped up his game.

“I know you didn’t come here to talk about my performances on the ice, so can we please skip the pleasantries?” Tyson sighs, catching you completely off guard with his rather harsh approach. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I’ve just been so fucking nervous since you called me,” Tyson curses, frustratedly brushing his fingers through his curls.

“You’re right though, I did come to talk. I think it’s time we lay all our cards on the table,” you tell him, nodding at your own answer.

You nervously bite on your lip, playing with the cup of water in your hand. It isn’t every day you ask your ex these questions. Questions you want the answers to, question you maybe don’t even want to hear the answers of. “I need to know if you cheated on me, Ty,” you blurt out, keeping your eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the look on Tyson’s face.

“Look at me, baby,” Tyson says, urging you to look up at him. “I never cheated on you, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

You shake your head at him, not knowing what to do with these emotions surging through your body. “It doesn’t make sense, Ty. Where were you all those nights? Where were you every time I lay in bed alone waiting for my boyfriend to come home? Waiting if he actually comes home this time or stays out all night again? Where were you?” At this point you’re past the civil conversations, past the friendly banter, you need answers, you need to know why he did what he did. The reason doesn’t even matter at this point, you need to know why. Why did he leave you alone so many nights, worrying about his well being, worrying about if he would come home at some point?

“Fuck, y/n! I know I fucked up, I know I did. But I swear on everything, I swear on my career, I swear on you that I never, never, touched another woman. I never kissed another woman, I never even danced with another woman, I did not cheat on you,” Tyson exclaims, hoping, praying you hear what he’s saying, that you’ll believe him. He didn’t do anything with another person, it was always you, it still is only you and he’ll do everything in his power to prove that to you every damn day.

“Then where were you, Ty? If you weren’t with another woman, then where the fuck were you every night you didn’t came home? Please enlighten me, because I’m so lost, so fucking lost,” you say, feeling utterly frustrated with yourself, with Tyson, with this shitty situation.

Tyson takes a deep breath, placing his cup back on the table. “Shitfaced drunk to the point I couldn’t even remember my own name, or so stoned I saw freaking elephants running all around town. Spending my money on unnecessary shit at clubs and bars, all to forget, trying to forget the fact that I had a perfect girlfriend waiting for me at home, while I did stupid shit. Fuck, this sounds even worse out loud than in my head,” Tyson groans, burying his face in his hands.

“But...,” you start, before Tyson cuts you off.

“I felt ashamed and guilty, y/n. Ashamed I let it get that far every time, guilty I didn’t tell you, guilty I didn’t come home again. One of the guys would just take me back to their place out of sympathy, letting me crash on their couch, trying to sleep off my haze.”

You try to come up with words to say, with anything but nothing comes out, you just feel.. empty? “I don’t understand, Tyson,” you say, at this point not even sure what you don’t understand.

“I tried, y/n. I tried to just come clean, but I couldn’t when you were so nice all the time, I couldn’t when I knew you would hate it, hate me. You know I’m a fucking lightweight, that makes it even worse. But those are no excuses, there aren’t any. I fucked up,” Tyson sighs, giving you a sad smile, “I couldn’t face you, I didn’t know how to show you my vulnerable side without letting it change the way you saw me. I didn’t want you to see me any different, but I didn’t notice I changed until you packed your bags and left me standing in the doorway.”

You’re absolutely speechless, there are so many things you want to say but you can’t form any sentences, any words. You just stare at him, your mind racing with an unlimited amount of thoughts. “Are you okay, baby?” Tyson asks softly, reaching out to put his hand on your arm.

You shake your head from side to side, wiping away the tears that spilled out. “I’m not okay, I’m definitely not okay,” you tell him. “I feel terrible knowing you didn’t feel like you could come to me, like you couldn’t talk to me. I’ve always been your biggest supporter, nothing would’ve changed that, Ty.”

Tyson gently wipes the tears away from underneath your eyes, scooting closer to where you’re seated. “Come here, baby,” he softly says, opening his arms for you. You hesitate for a second, not knowing if this is the right thing to do. Fuck the right thing, you definitely need a hug right now, and judging by Tyson’s facial expression he needs one as well. You lean forward, putting your arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his body. How long has it been since you hugged each other? You can’t even remember, way too long. Tyson closes his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to his own body.

“I missed this, Ty. I missed you,” you confess, the feeling of his arms around you, the feeling of Tyson, bringing back so many memories, so many happier times.

“I know we still have a long way to go, but I hope we’ll do this together. I can’t even tell you how great it feels to have my arms around you again, even if it’s just for a moment,” Tyson says, after you both let go of each other.

“We do, but I’m in if you’re in, Ty,” you agree, wanting nothing more than to work through the issues you still have. It’s time to forgive, time to let go, time to change and time to move on.

“I’m all in.”

The talk you had with Tyson that Wednesday evening did wonders for the both of you. You still had a long way to go before you were even remotely close to where you used to be with Tyson, but the most important thing was that you were working on things. Slowly, but steadily the two of you worked on trusting each other again, telling each other important things again, just simply working on being in a healthy relationship again. Although the word never came up, you were nowhere near ready for that commitment, so you settled on something less intimidating. Friends.

It was supposed to be a regular, normal Friday evening with just Melissa and the kids. Gabe and Tyson were playing one of their most important games this season, both of them begged you to come, but it was too late to find a babysitter. Not wanting to be by yourself there and leaving Mel alone, you decided to sit this one out as well, promising to cheer them on in front of the tv. It’s the least you could do. So there you are, seated on the couch wearing your Jost jersey for the very first time again, just as you promised. Weird, like nothing ever changed, even though the exact opposite is true.

You’re bouncing a giggling Linnea Rae on your knee, looking down at her adorable mini jersey. “Look it’s your daddy!” you exclaim excitedly, pointing at the closeup shot of Gabe.

“Daddy!” Linnea Rae giggles just as excited.

You catch Mel softly smiling at your little interaction with her daughter, enjoying the love you share for each other. It’s been a blessing to have you around here, the way you care for her children, but also for her and her husband has been phenomenal. Mel couldn’t wish for a better friend, for a better sister than you.

“Oh no,” you whisper when Tyson gets slammed hard into the glass. Melissa grabs your hand, squeezing softly.

“He’s going to be fine, he’s a tough guy,” she says, trying her best to comfort you. And he is, like the tough guy Tyson is, he gets up again, shaking off the hard hit. The game continues and you’re glad Tyson is fine, skating like he didn’t just get squeezed between a glass wall and a 200 pound hockey player.

All goes well until Gabe decides the best place to smack his stick is directly against Tyson’s face, again. “Not his face, Gabe! Not his fucking face again!” you yell at the screen, thanking Mel for already putting the kids to sleep.

“Shit, that looks bad,” Melissa almost whispers, squeezing your hand again.

You don’t know many things for sure in life, but you sure as hell know Tyson will be spotting a black eye for weeks. But like the tough guy he already proved to be, he just goes on with the game, trying his absolute best to work as hard as he can, giving himself completely to the game, anything to get his team the victory.

“That’s the second time you gave my man a black eye, Gabe. Why do you keep hurting him?” you whine the second Gabe walks into the living room. For a moment the room stays awfully quiet, until you realize what you just said. “I really said that, huh?” you ask, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“You sure did. But I’m sorry, it was an accident. Again,” Gabe chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.

“Uhu, again,” you say, rolling your eyes at your best friend.

Gabe grins at you, flopping down on the couch next to Mel. “I’ll try not to hurt his pretty face again, okay?” Gabe laughs, shaking his head at you in a playful way.

“Is it weird if I, you know.. went over to check up on him?” you ask your friends, suddenly insecure about the thought of just showing up at his door.

Gabe gives you a soft smile. “I’m absolutely convinced he’d love that, y/n,” Gabe says, pulling Melissa closer to him.

“I know he would, sis,” Melissa agrees with her husband.

“Fine, okay. I’ll be back in a few. Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” you tell the two lovebirds before finding your stuff and almost running out of the front door.

You’re giddy the entire drive to Tyson’s apartment. This could go two ways, either it goes extremely well or this backfires completely. You’re hoping for the first one. Seeing Tyson get hurt gave you some realizations. One of them is that you absolutely hate to see him hurt, and you want nothing more than to be there for him, care for him, to tell him everything will be alright. Which brings you to your second discovery of the evening: you still love him, you’re still completely and utterly in love with Tyson. You can’t, really can’t imagine your life without Tyson in it. It’s your turn to tell him you need him, tell him you don’t want to do anything without him, tell him you still see a future together.

You pick up his favorite comfort food on the way over, cake. You know his nutritionist will hate you for this, but he deserves a treat after taking a stick to the face. You chuckle to yourself when you think of the small cake you bought, it’s stupid and childish, but you love it. The fun you already had makes it absolutely worth it. You park in front of the building, hopping out of the car and quickly making your way over to the floor Tyson occupies.

You rummage around in your coat pocket for the lighter you bought alongside the cake. Quickly placing the cover back into the bag, and lighting up the ‘2’ shaped candle. You snicker to yourself, enjoying this way too much. You knock on the door and patiently wait for Tyson to open up. You hear Tyson approaching, making it harder and harder to keep your composure.

The moment he opens the door his face shifts from slight annoyance, to confused, to happy, and back to confused again. “y/n?” he asks softly, looking between you and the cake, confusion clearly written all over his face.

“Happy second black eye!” you yell, before bursting out in laughter.

Tyson can’t help but join you in your laughter, if there’s one thing he loves about you, it’s your wicked sense of humor. “You really are something special, aren’t you?” Tyson chuckles, shaking his head softly at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“You tell me, Jost,” you say, giving him a wink before walking past him and inside his apartment.

“So you bought me a cake?” Tyson asks you, looking over your shoulder to the cake on his kitchen counter.

“I sure did, thought you’d deserved a treat after what Gabe did to you, again,” you laugh.

“He sure likes to hit me in the face with things. But thank you, this really means a lot to me, baby,” Tyson softly says, squeezing your hip with one of his hands, before grabbing two plates. While Tyson cuts the cake you look for something to drink, deciding water will do for the night.

You flop down on the couch next to Tyson, immediately bringing the fork with a piece of cake to your mouth. “Oh God, that’s so good,” you moan out, you picked some killer cake.

“Don’t make those noises, please,” Tyson groans, stuffing his face with cake.

“I’m sorry I picked such a good freaking cake, mister,” you laugh, nudging him with your foot. Tyson rolls his eyes playfully at you, grabbing your foot with his free hand before you can nudge him again and again.

“Movie?” Tyson asks after you both finished your plates, although Tyson finished the last few bites of your piece. Like he said he’s a needy and hungry man.

“Sure, but just something light and funny, Ty. Nothing dark,” you tell him, knowing he’d love to scare you throughout some horror movie.

While Tyson scrolls through the movies, you make yourself more comfortable on the couch, laying back against the cushions with your feet against Tyson. He looks at you, scanning your body, clearly thinking about something since his eyebrows keep furrowing and relaxing.

“Come here, Tyson,” you softly say when he finally picks a movie to watch, opening your arms for him. His eyes shoot to yours, like he can’t actually believe you just told him that. He gives you a quick smile, before moving towards you, laying down beside you.

He rests his head against your chest, just like he used to do so long ago, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Is this okay?” he asks you, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, even though you’re the one who suggested this.

“It’s perfect, Ty,” you reassure him.

Halfway through the movie you can’t resist the temptation to run your fingers through his curls any longer. Tyson groans softly when your nails rake over his scalp, sending chill through your body. “That’s so good, please never stop doing that,” he groans out, pulling you tighter against him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Ty,” you tell him, smiling at the way his eyes shoot to yours.

“You aren’t? Are you serious?” he asks you quietly, eyes still locked on yours.

“I am, love. I came to the conclusion that you’re worth all the risks in life. You’re my light, my guiding light in darkness, my light at the end of the tunnel,” you say, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. You try to express your emotions towards Tyson, trying to make him feel what you felt when you came to the sudden realization he’s worth taking a risk.

“What does that mean, baby?” Tyson asks you softly, an uncertain smile on his lips.

“It means I’m willing to give us another shot, another go. I want to try again, Ty.”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips when you look at Tyson’s face, the realization setting in, the happiness and the gratefulness spreading all over his face, the relief flooding through his body.

“How does that work?” Tyson asks again, clearly trying to rid himself of any insecurities, any questions he has. You gladly take those insecurities away from him.

“A clean slate, completely starting over again to give us both a fresh start. How does that sound?” you ask him.

Tyson nods at you, the happiness radiation off him. “A fresh start, I like the sound of that,” Tyson muses. The changes on his face fascinates you, it seems like he goes through a whole range of emotions in just a few minutes. Until he reaches one you know all too well, mischief. He looks at you, the familiar glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s definitely up to something. He sends you a soft and sweet smile, that almost melts you into a puddle right there and then. “Hi, I’m Tyson,” he says, extending his hand to you. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, this is exactly how Tyson is. Funny, charming, an absolute dream.

“You’re a goof, you know that?” you tell him, softly shaking your head at him, but the big grin on your face tells him you loved that. Tyson intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing softly. When he doesn’t make any other moves you take matters into your own hand, slowly leaning in and softly pressing your lips on his. The familiarity, the rush of emotion flooding through your body hits you like a ton of bricks. The feeling of his lips against yours light something deep inside of you, and just like that you finally feel complete again.

[mirohlixie]

Got Me Feeling Like A Psycho (Hwang Hyunjin)

Hyunjin x Reader (gender-neutral) Genre: Smut, Dancing Words: 1,8k Summary: Hyunjin is finishing up his dance rehearsals when his best friend Y/N comes in to pick him up. His moves catch Y/N's attention and soon things lead to things...

Content Warnings: Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Marking, Exhibitionism, Dom! Hyunjin x Sub! Reader

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“I won’t be long, I promise,” Hyunjin whispered, pressing a quick kiss on Y/N’s forehead before running back into the studio. “You can watch if you want, there’s a chair over there,” Y/N nodded and followed their best friend inside, sitting down on the chair before pulling out their phone. They were supposed to pick Hyunjin up from his rehearsals for the new song’s choreography, but unfortunately he wasn’t allowed to leave until they finished the last bits of it. It was just Bang Chan and him, the rest of the boys had already gone back to get some rest. Y/N was disappointed, but they knew it was part of the job, so they stayed and waited for him to finish.

After a while of having the same track played over and over again, Chan spoke up.

“That’s it for today,” he said. “I’m exhausted, I’m going to get some dinner,” he waited for Hyunjin to agree, but the latter critically looked at himself in the mirror.

“You go back,” he told his friend. “I’m going to practice just a little bit longer and I’ll be out of here too,” Chan’s gaze fell on Y/N briefly before readjusting it to Jinnie.

“Are you sure you’re going to let them wait for you even more?” He said, nodding in Y/N’s direction. Their best friend sighed and looked at them via the mirror.

“Do you mind, Y/N?” He asked with his quiet voice. Y/N shook their head, smiling a little at their best friend..”

“No I don’t, bub. Finish it and we’ll get some good after,” they knew how perfectionistic their best friend was and that if they didn’t let him now, he’d be thinking about it the rest of the night. It was better to let him have his way now and have a fun night after. Chan nodded and said his goodbyes to both of them before leaving the dance studio.

“I’m sorry bubs,” Hyunjin spoke softly. “I won’t be long, I promise,” Y/N walked over to him and kissed his cheek before sitting back down in the chair.

“Take all the time you need, babe,” he nodded and turned the music back on to practice the choreography more. Instead of looking at their phone, Y/N watched their best friend dance to the great beat of the new song. He swung his hips subtly as he performed the steps, moving gracefully.

He was such a great dancer, nobody could deny that. Not a single move seemed too hard for him and he managed to do it all while still looking amazingly handsome and pretty at the same time.

At one point in the song, he was supposed to do some kind of body roll. Y/N almost instantly started to drool at the sight. Of course they’d known their best friend was pretty much the most beautiful guy on this earth, but this dance move did something to them they’d never felt this strongly before.

Unfortunately, Hyunjin wasn’t too happy about the move and restarted the music to practice it again. This time, he made eye contact with Y/N while doing the move, lightly smirking to himself before he stopped the music. He was clearly amused by the way he was being looked at. Y/N’s eyes weren’t trained on his face, or torso for that matter. No, they rested on his crotch, without a doubt.

“My eyes are up here darling,” his voice suddenly boomed through the room. Y/N was snapped out of their trance and looked up at him in horror. God, he’d seen all of it. “Saw something you liked?” The tall man was walking in their reaction, a playful smirk playing around his lips. Y/N didn’t know what to say or do, completely overwhelmed by whatever was going on right now.

They nodded their head briefly, immediately regretting it. God, they’d just admitted to their best friend that they “saw something they liked”. How dumb could one be? “No- I meant no,” they tried to cover up, their cheeks heating up.

“Don’t lie kitten,” Hyunjin mused, taking one final step, towering over his poor best friend. “I caught you looking.”

“People look,” Y/N still wasn’t ready to give in. If they did, it would be bad. “It happens.”

“So you’re not turned on by this?” Hyunjin rolled his hips again like he did before. Y/N bit their lip, feeling flustered and needier than they’d ever felt in their life. When his friend didn’t reply, he chuckled and took their hand, pulling them onto the floor. “Let’s dance.”

He put his hands on Y/N’s waist, allowing them to drape their arms in his neck. As he slowly moved the both of them to the music, Hyunjin ran his hands along his friend’s sides. Every touch left behind tingles, their skin burning. With every move, Hyunjin’s lips ghosted over Y/N’s, his hands traveling down to their ass. Along with the music, he lifted one of their legs, leaning them back to make a pose, hovering over them as he held them, preventing them from falling backwards to the floor. It was at that moment, Y/N couldn’t take it anymore; they closed the gap between both by pressing their lips on their best friend’s.

Hyunjin immediately kissed back hungrily, apparently craving this just as much as they did. He carefully let them down on the floor on their back, hovering over them as he leaned on his forearms. The kiss was quickly deepened and soon enough the dancer’s lips found their way along Y/N’s jaw and neck, leaving marks all over. The latter moaned quietly in pleasure, arching their back to press their body against his. They craved him so bad.

“Are we alone?” Y/N whispered, not wanting someone from management to walk in right now. Hyunjin quickly nodded and explained that he was to lock down the place when he was done rehearsing. Y/N saw this as a sign and tugged at the dancer’s shirt. He chuckled and quickly took it off, letting his best friend take in his appearance in wonder before helping them out of their own shirt. He left hickeys all over their chest and didn’t stop until he reached the waistband of their pants. He looked up for permission and was granted it with a nod and a small smile before he pulled them down too.

Y/N looked at him, biting their lip in anticipation. Their insides were burning, they needed to feel him so bad. Hyunjin smirked briefly, pulling down their underwear too before delving his head between their legs. He left hickeys all along their thighs, delicately sucking on and kissing the skin, making their little thing wiggle under them.

“Patience darling,” he whispered sweetly, but Y/N knew no patience. They needed him right now and they definitely let them know as they softly tugged on his locks. Hyunjin blew hot air against their soaking core before licking a strip up their slit, being awarded with a satisfied moan. He smirked briefly before delving his tongue between the little one’s folds and thrusts it in as much as he could before moving to suck on their clit.

The feeling was overwhelming and Y/N arched their back even more, tugging on the locks more harshly, craving more. Hyunjin understood the message and sucked harder, dipping his tongue in occasionally as he elicited pretty sounds from his angel. His thumbs rubbed circles on Y/N’s inner thigh as his tongue worked miracle.

Soon, the cute sub started to shake and whine, bucking their hips as they started to reach their high. They knew they couldn’t take much more than this. Hyujin picked up on this and sped up, sucking on the clit more harshly before completely pulling away.

“J-Jinnie!” They whined. “W-why?”

“Not yet, darling,” he said with a devilish grin. “Need you to cum around me,” as he said this, he slid down his own pants and stroking himself quickly before looking at his best friend with concern. “If you want to, of course…” Y/N nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please! Please fuck me Jinnie, I need you so fucking bad,” they exclaimed. “Please just fuck me,” he breathed out in relief, hovering over Y/N again before teasing their entrance with his tip.

“Ready?”

“More than ever,” he nodded and pushed in slowly and let the kitten adjust before slowly thrusting in. He moaned lowly, taking a deep breath before speeding up slightly.

“So tight,” he mumbled, biting his lip harshly as he watched his pretty best friend become a mess under him. “So tight for me angel.”

“You’re so big,” they stuttered. “Stretch me out so much sir,” they stifled a loud moan. “Harder please, I can take it!” Hyunjin didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted one of their legs and started thrusting at a different angle, making sure to hit deep. Both of their moans echoed around the studio, bouncing against the mirrors. It was a good thing they were the only ones there because otherwise, the whole building would’ve known what was going on here.

Y/N cried out when Jinnie’s large member hit their sweet spot. Hyunjin saw this as a sign to go even harder and started pounding into the helpless figure, groaning as he felt himself getting closer and closer to his release.

“Fuck princess, I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admitted, feeling how years of built-up tension needed to come out. All this time he’d been wanting to be close with his best friend. Had been wanting to make them feel good and make them his, and now that moment seemed to be here and he was enjoying it as much as he could.

Little did he know that Y/N had been feeling the exact same for a while now. They had always been curious if something more could happen between them. More than the friendship they’d had.

“M-me neither,” Y/N moaned. “Please cum inside me, sir. Please I need to feel you fill me up,” they threw their head back, clinging into the tall figure. “Please.”

Hyunjin groaned even louder, rolling his hips and arching his back before shooting his cum down the tight hole. He felt Y/N clench around him, milking his orgasm as they came hard too, sending both of them onto cloud nine as they shook and whimpered.

The princess clung onto him as they shook, needing a moment to come down from their high. Hyunjin admired their face, kissing them gently to ease them off their high to his best ability. He adored them, so they deserved the absolute best.

“Fuck…” Y/N breathed heavily. “That was amazing.”

“I agree,” Hyunjin admitted. “I’ve been wanting that for so long,” he blushed.

“Me too,” they admitted. “I’ve been wanting that for ages and after today… I’m going to want it more often.”

“Good,” he mumbled before pulling his princess into his arms.

----------------------------------- o --------------------------------------

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippit - Fish and Flirting

Soooo... who’s ready to read another clip of the first draft for my Our Life: Beginnings & Always fanfic novelization? This time, let’s take a slice of Step 2's moment, Dinner.

I’d like to thank everyone for enjoying my writing. All of your likes, reblogs, and comments are the fuel that drives me to share more of it here. I’m thankful for the feedback my fellow fans of the game and especially its creators @gb-patch! You are all just so sweet. Thank you!

...

The crunch of sand against the mat beneath her sandals was a familiar welcome for Jamie as she entered his bedroom. Cove didn’t care if he brought a little bit of the beach home after every visit there. Cliff never scolded him for it like her moms would if she adopted such a lackadaisical attitude. This left sand to accumulate all over his personal space, but he never minded.

That was just how Cove was - a little bit of a mess.

Cove didn’t waste time getting comfortable, taking a seat on the edge of his extra large bed. “You can sit wherever you want.”

There weren’t actually all that many options. The desk chair was the obvious choice, as it was the only place to sit besides the bed, but Cove rarely used it for that purpose despite claiming her desk chair as his preferred spot whenever they hung out in her room. Jamie knew from experience that his chair was nowhere near as comfortable as hers, and it had a squeak to it that set her teeth on edge. She could deal with a stiff chair, but the noise it made ensured that the first time she sat in it was also the last.

This meant that the only options left were to stand, sit on the sandy floor, or…

Jamie fought to keep the mischief on her mind from showing on her face. Well, Cove did say that she could sit wherever she wanted.

Although Cove had hoped Jamie would take his offer as an invitation to sit on his bed with him, he was shocked that she took a seat right beside him. She was so close he felt her knee briefly brush against his as she made herself comfortable, all the while flashing him a cheerful smile that sent his heart pounding. He had hoped she would sit close to him; he just didn’t expect she would sit this close.

Not that Cove was complaining.

Jamie noticed Cove tense up, his back going stiff as he ducked his head away. It reminded her of how he would react whenever she hugged him, especially when he began to blush and tried to hide the way his lips curled into a trembling smile.

“Oh my God,” Cove whispered under his breath. The words slipped out of him without realizing, spoken so softly that Jamie might not have heard it if she wasn’t sitting right next to him.

The reaction thrilled Jamie, and she couldn’t stop herself from beaming at Cove. He was just too cute!

Cove noticed the shift in Jamie’s expression out of the corner of his eye. With how close they were, it was impossible not to notice each other’s every move. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at her, wondering why she seemed so happy all of a sudden.

Jamie noticed the silent question in his eyes. Before she could seriously consider playing coy, her real feelings came bubbling out. “You’re adorable!”

The compliment, delivered with such enthusiasm, seemed to come right out of nowhere for Cove. He stiffened again, his eyes flying open wide as his mouth hung open in shock. “I… what?”

Jamie watched as the blush deepen on Cove’s face before spreading to the tips of his ears and all the way down his neck. He wasn’t the only one blushing, as her cheeks grew rather hot as well, but since she already said it… “You’re adorable,” she repeated, trying to look and sound much more confident than she felt.

That got Cove’s mouth trembling again. It was a wonder how he could still look Jamie in the eye with how much his insides were fluttering. He gripped the blanket underneath him, feeling like he might just fall off the bed with how weak his knees were at that moment. “I’m not. That’s…”

It was almost too much for Cove to take. How could Jamie say stuff like that to him so easily? It wasn’t fair how easy it was for her to send his heart into overdrive and turn his mind into mush.

Cove shifted nervously in place as he scrambled to get his mind working again. Jamie was flirting with him, right? She had to be. Unless he was mistaken. Then again, this happened often enough that it couldn’t be all his imagination, right? Except this was Jamie - she was nice to everyone. Of course, she was nicest to him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t reading too much into things.

Should he flirt back? What would he say? What could he say? Should he call her cute? Jamie was definitely cute, and nice, and thoughtful, and fantastic and…

But what if that made things weird? If Jamie was just being nice and not thinking too much about this stuff, Cove might make things awkward. And if things got uncomfortable between them…

It was all too much for Cove. He did the only thing he could do - he fled the subject of romance completely.

“Did you see my fish?” Cove blurted out, latching onto the first non-romance-related topic to pop into his head. “I’ve got some. In a tank. Right there.” He threw both arms out in front of him in an almost desperate gesture to direct Jamie’s attention away from him to something else far safer with less world-shattering ramifications.

As happy as Jamie was to make Cove so flustered, she could see she had overwhelmed him. She wanted to drop hints about how she felt about him, not make him uncomfortable. Despite how poor the change in topic was, she granted him mercy and allowed it.

Cove bit back a sigh of relief when Jamie directed her gaze away from him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on getting his rapidly beating heart back under control. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel just a little disappointed with himself.

The fish in the tank were fairly varied, all of them bright and colorful. The way Cove had so dramatically pointed them out, one might think that Jamie had never seen them before. She knew that Cliff had gifted him the tank and pets not long after the father and son first moved to Sunset Bird.

Fondly, Jamie recalled the excitement that always shone in his eyes whenever Cove proudly introduced her to his newest pet. He always made sure she was the first to know, and it always made her feel special.

Jamie was also always the first one Cove went to whenever a fish unfortunately passed on. Those occasions broke her heart to see him so sad, and she did whatever she could to comfort him. Despite the sad memory, a small smile tugged at her lips as she recalled how she had come up with the idea of giving the fish funerals, and she officiated over them as best as her childish self could without having any real experience with funerals prior. As sad as they were, they did help her best friend heal from the loss.

Returning her focus to the tank, Jamie inspected it and its occupants with increasing interest. Although she had no experience having pets of her own, she had learned what it took to take care of fish from listening to Cove talk about his pets. She helped him out wherever she could as well, be it with checking to make sure the tank’s thermometer was accurate by comparing its reading with one her moms owned or looking up information he struggled to find by himself.

Cove was very serious about the care of his pets, and it showed. The fish were healthy and energetic as they swam through the crystal clear water.

The smaller fish zipping about were interesting, but Jamie found her eye drawn to the especially big one because of its dazzling multicolored scales. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she felt dumb for never asking a very simple question before. “What are their names?”

Although the question was innocent enough, Cove found himself growing a bit bashful. “I don’t name them,” he admitted. “Well, not really.” At seeing Jamie direct a raised eyebrow at him, he gave her a lopsided smile. “I mean… Mostly, I just call them things based on what they look like. ‘Squirt’ for a small one, ‘Tangerine’ for a really orange one. That sort of thing.” He let out an awkward chuckle. “I’ve had a lot of fish, and I’m not that good at coming up with names…”

The answer tickled Jamie. She hadn’t known about that little weakness of his. It was always such a nice surprise whenever she learned about a new side of Cove that she had never noticed before.

“Oh,” Cove said, as a thought occurred to him. “A couple of them have other types of names.” He pointed towards a small orange-red fish. It was off on its own away from its tankmates. “My dad named her Dreamcatcher.” He paused for a moment before pointing at a more yellowish fish that just darted out of the fake log. “And that other one’s Mark. Mom came up with that one.”

Jamie focused on the two particular fish before turning back to Cove. He was still looking at his pets with a more relaxed smile on his face. For a moment she just admired how the glow from the tank reflected in his eyes before snapping her focus back onto the conversation. “You let other people name your fish?”

“Yeah,” Cove said happily. “It’s nice.” He then turned to Jamie as an idea popped into his head. He tilted his head to the side, considering the thought for a moment before deciding to go ahead with it. “Do you wanna name one?”

Jamie’s eyes lit up at the offer. “Yeah I do!”

Cove’s smile grew a little at her enthusiasm. “Cool. There’s a few who don’t have names right now, the newer ones. You can pick which you wanna name.”

Jamie waited until Cove pointed out each of her options. The first fish was the smallest in the tank. It was orange all over and zipped around the tank so fast that it was lapping the others. The second was red and just slightly bigger, with a tail dotted by black spots almost like freckles. The last fish was the largest one in the tank that had caught her eye earlier. Its multicolored scales practically glittered under the bright light of the large tank as it slowly glided through the water.

It was an easy choice for Jamie to make. “The biggest fish.”

Cove nodded, a little amused, as he waited for Jamie to decide on a name. He had a feeling that would be the one she would pick. She did like rainbows after all, and that particular fish was practically a living rainbow.

Jamie squinted at the tank, hamming up an exaggerated show of taking this sacred duty of naming a pet fish seriously as she stroked her chin and let out a low hum. She was rewarded for her theatrics when Cove noticed and let out a chuckle. She barely kept herself from grinning or doing more than glimpsing at him out of the corner of her eye as she tried her best not to break character.

Eventually, Jamie straightened up and turned to Cove, maintaining her solemn expression the entire time. “Gil.”

Cove couldn’t help but laugh unreservedly at not only her choice, but her antics as well.

Finally, Jamie broke character and allowed herself to smile and enjoy how she made Cove laugh. The affectionate sound was music to her ears.

“I could’ve come up with that,” Cove chuckled.

“Well, it was the second name to pop into my head,” Jamie said almost a little too innocently.

Cove caught on that Jamie wasn’t quite done with the bit yet and raised his eyebrow, playing along. “Oh yeah? What was the first one?”

“Cove,” Jamie announced, grinning.

With that, Cove broke into another round of laughter. “What? You thought about naming it after me?”

Jamie shrugged, doing her best to appear casual. “A little bit, but I couldn’t help it; your name is always the first one to come to my mind.”

Heat bloomed in Cove’s cheeks as his laughter turned bashful and trailed off. He was pretty sure Jamie wasn’t flirting with him this time and was merely joking around, but it still felt a little too good to hear her say something like that. “I-is it? Oh, well… uh…”

Jamie gave Cove a moment, feeling satisfied that her attempt at flirting got such a positive reaction. Those tips from Lee were paying off.

When Cove shook off the flustered feelings, he gave Jamie a bent smile. “Alright, it’s Gil.”

[nancywheelxr]

Word of Honor prompt suggestion: WKX and YBY play the drunken ancient Chinese equivalent of Truth or Dare. The situation rapidly escalates from throwing Wolong Nuts to property damage, while a horrified ZZS attempts to restore order. In the end, Gu Xiang smacks both of them down.

anon, i am delighted by this prompt, thank you so much

*

Zhou Zishu loves having an extended family.

It’s great, so great. Amazing. Really, just lovely. A blessing.

“Who are you calling blind? Twice that distance, it would still land true!”

A blessing. Especially when they all decide to visit at the same time. Lovely surprise, truly. So great. Zhou Zishu is just so happy. Estactic even. Look at him, he’s a shining beacon of happiness.

“Shifu,” Chengling says, frowning up at him from the where he’s supposed to be meditating, “are you alright? You look stressed.”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Zhou Zishu snaps, “who’s stressed? If anything, it’s your laziness that’s stressing me!”

Chengling doesn’t look too convinced because, unfortunately, somewhere down the line, the kid seems to have lost all common sense. Personally, Zhou Zishu blames Wen Kexing. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not being lazy,” he grins, eyes going wide and pleading-- another thing, that, personally, Zhou Zishu blames Wen Kexing for. “As soon as we stop hiding, I’ll go back to training!”

“Who’s hiding!” Zhou Zishu takes a deep breath. He’s been told to manage his stress levels. Besides, he’s not stressed. Beacon of happiness. Shining, that’s what he is. This is all fine. “We’re not hiding. We’re meditating away from the mess your Shishu is making with Ye-qianbei.”

Chengling nods once, serious. “A warrior knows when to retreat.”

“That’s not--” He stops himself. Somewhere, probably in the courtyard, there’s a crash loud enough to echo in the room they’re using. This is fine. 

“Where would that count? I dared you to strike down that tree, not take a statue’s head!”

“What’s wood compared to stone?! Have you gone senile? Your dare was too stupid to consider, I made it better!”

Wen Kexing is slurring his words already, Zhou Zishu can tell, and it’s with a startling clarity that he can see it in his mind: Wen Kexing, drunk, throwing his fan around the courtyard on a dare, and Ye Baiyi, not drunk, unbothered by the very real risk of someone losing a limb if he deemed it entertaining enough. 

They had been throwing those blasted nuts around, the last time Zhou Zishu checked on them. Shooting them around like arrows and leaving dents all over his walls. Then, he had been merely grateful for their unspoken agreement of not ever choosing truth, just in case someone stepped in one of the several emotion landmines scattered in their past-- if anyone starts crying, Zhou Zishu is walking out, he’s decided this very early on.

Well, he supposes, if it’s Wen Kexing, he would probably stick around to sober him up, tears and all, but he’d really rather not. 

It was a mistake though, it seems, to leave them unattended for too long. Now the dares have escalated and one of the statues is allegedly missing a head.

So great.

“Stay here,” he tells Chengling, just in case the kid’s luck strikes again, and goes investigate the noises. Following the chaos is always sure to lead him back to Wen Kexing. 

The several disciples scurrying away from the courtyard is also a good indicator he’s on the right path.

“Old Monster,” Wen Kexing is saying, and in his arms there’s a large stone that might at some point have been a statue’s head but has been hacked at too much to retain any semblance of its former image. Hacked at too heavily to have been done by a fan, lined with steel or not. Which means-- “I dare you to-- I dare you to cut this in half now!”

“Ha!” Ye Baiyi snorts, sword already unsheated, and there’s a faint flush to his face which is all sorts of terrible because if even Ye Baiyi is a little drunk, then how much have they drunk? And could people, please, stop waving around sharp weapons while inebriated? “You call that a challenge? Brat, I could be in my death bed and that would still be too easy. Don’t waste my time, come up with something better.”

Yeah, no, it’s definitely time for an intervention. “Alright, alright,” he calls, stepping out into the courtyard and promptly tripping over an entire watermelon. What the fuck. “What the fuck?”

“A-Xu!” Wen Kexing grins, waving at him while hugging the head to his chest, and it’s horribly endearing, yes, but also, terrible because Zhou Zishu is trying to hold on to his annoyance. “A-Xu, be careful! I won that fair and square, it’s my prize! Isn’t it good? We can have it after dinner but not the Old Monster, he can’t have it, A-Xu!”

“As if I wanted! It’s probably rotten--”

“Oh, it’s good that you’re here, A-Xu, I’ve missed you, and now you can stand guard on our watermelon!”

Deep breaths. “Where did you get the watermelon?”

“I won it.”

Ye Baiyi scoffs. “You cheated.”

“You won it. From where?”

“No, he cheated,” Ye Baiyi repeats as if speaking to a particularly slow child, “I’ve already told you that, stop making me repeat myself.”

“Don’t listen to him, A-Xu,” Wen Kexing walks over with his stone head, swaying as he goes, “no cheating was involved. Look, isn’t it a good watermelon?”

The question is accompanied with a genuinely distressed look, as if it was of paramount importance that Zhou Zishu agree with him on this, as if the whole world is hanging on this thread, so Zhou Zishu finds himself picking up the damn thing and awkwardly inspecting it around. “Yes, it’s very good.”

Immediately, Wen Kexing spins around, using the statue head to point at Ye Baiyi vindictively, “see? Take that, Old Man! How about it? A-Xu says it’s good, so it’s good, it’s not rotten!”

Well, in truth, it might be a little past its prime, but Zhou Zishu decides to keep that to himself and not think about where it came from anymore. This, he figures, is going to be a problem for Sober Wen Kexing when he wakes up tomorrow. So he places the watermelon back down and steels himself for the task of prying the head from Wen Kexing. “Yes, yes, I’m always right, and now A-Xu is saying it’s time to go to sleep.”

For his troubles, he receives a most betrayed look, “A-Xu, it’s still so early, A-Xiang isn’t even back yet,” something seems to click on his head, “and the Old Monster hasn’t completed the dare!”

Zhou Zishu curses silently. Having deemed Wen Kexing’s ramblings boring, Ye Baiyi had retreated back to the his seat at the table and been about to pour himself some water, but now he perks up again, throwing one of their precious nuts at them. “Come up with a worthy dare, then! Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, bring more wine.”

Hearing this, Wen Kexing rushes forward, waving the statue head. “Don’t change the subject! If you think it’s too easy, how about I throw it in the air first, huh? I dare you, cut it in half before it touches the ground!”

I’m going to have to rebuild this place again, Zhou Zishu realizes with a morose sort of resignation. The manor might have survived the Window of Heavens, but he’s not so sure it’ll survive these two drunk idiots. 

This epiphany takes some time to be processed, so Zhou Zishu doesn’t feel too guilty for not noticing Gu Xiang arriving with Cao Weining until they’re at his side, gaping like little dumb fishes at the scene. “Ah, Zishu-ge! Why did you let them get like this!”

“A-Xiang, A-Xiang,” her husband says helplessly, and Zhou Zishu snorts, magnanimously forgiving her slap at his shoulder, “don’t be so harsh, it’s not so bad! Wen-gongzi is...” without anything other than drunk out of his mind to finish his sentence with, Cao Weining trails off.

“What a mess,” she grumbles, “what a mess. You were supposed to keep an eye on them!”

“Me? How am I to do that? Do you think I can grant miracles?”

She hits his shoulder again. “Zishu-ge! You just had to keep an eye on him! That’s the one thing you like doing!”

“A-Xiang!” Cao Weining gasps, grasping at her sleeves to keep her from going for another slap, “Zhou-xiong, we’ll help clean it up, it’s the wine we brought anyway.”

“Pah,” she scoffs, shaking Cao Weining off and marching towards the two still squabbling about how best to throw the statue head, “who’s we? Honestly!”

From their spot by the door, Zhou Zishu watches as Wen Kexing beams at her, saying something too garbled for him to make out, while Ye Baiyi just squints like he’s seeing a new weird-looking bug.

A-Xiang’s screeches are very clearly heard, though. In a minute, she’s prodded and bullied Wen Kexing into giving up the head and poured them both healthy servings of tea, taking advantage of Ye Baiyi’s seemingly internal debate over insulting a little girl to shove the glass at him.

“Huh,” Zhou Zishu says, admittedly impressed. She really is efficient when she wants to be.

“Ah, A-Xiang really is amazing,” Cao Weining sighs in a horrible smitten way, so Zhou Zishu has to fetch and toss the nearest broom at him, on principle. “Ah?”

“It’s very good that Cao-gongzi offered to help,” he smiles, knowing Wen Kexing will laugh about this come morning, “now if you excuse me, this one has a very drunk husband to rescue.”

Feeling very satisfied with himself, he labels the mess a problem for Cao Weining now. 

Zhou Zishu loves having an extended family. A blessing, truly.