#he stands so still afterwards - did the remembering almost bring him back to life?

[groundbreakingdot872]

Thinking about this scene in the context of Agravaine’s brainwashing has completely changed it for me…

The entire two episodes, Agrravaine had a subplot to play where he acted angrily at Morgana’s new reliance on Helios, reminding her that he was her ‘one true ally’

This isn’t unusual for him, he’s sporadically had these speeches of loyalty before; but this time, even Morgana’s a little put off by his strongly worded statement.

Look at where the scene takes place:

Arthur’s desk

In a perverse show of power, Agravaine is meant to act subservient to the wrong ruling Pendragon, at the very desk where all of those treatises to alter the Kingdom would’ve been drafted. The man who’s loyalty and familial love he should’ve cherished, has been stolen from him, and misplaced in Morgana’s servitude.

That entire conversation Agravaine comes off more pushy and worried for her than he’s ever been, and I wonder if the symbolism of Morgana taking Arthur’s place so physically, was affecting him more than usual.

His last words to her seem to reference another scene, “And I ask you take care.” Words of assurance that startle her, maybe for the genuinity in his eyes, but to me they come across more vulnerable from an inner panic..

He may be remembering an earlier memory, before the brainwashing, remembering where the words “I am your one true ally, my lady. I am your own teue friend” acted as a spell to ground him in subservience to her.

Sound familiar?

Morgana to Gwen: You are not alone now. You need never be alone again. I’m the only one you can trust, I’m all you have left in the world.

Agravaine: i am your one true ally, my lady. I am your one true friend. I would do anything for you, you know that.

——

He was alone.

Dishonored by his past, and on self-exile for 20+ years by the time s4 rolls around. Ygraine had been cast off and long-forgotten, and the brother-in-law he despised holding a candle to her memory. Tristan had died at the same iron fist; died trying to win honor back for the Du Bois name, only to felled by his own family.

He may very well have been in the citadel when it all occurred, cradling Arthur in his arms in the birthing room, pale in shock and new grief, while Tristan stumbled out to face Uther in his wrath.

But he’d been given a chance on Arthur’s coronation, one more opportunity to return his family name to honor. Riding to the citadel in haste, anxiously wanting to see how much of his sister lived on in his nephew, he was an easy target.

…It must’ve happened so quickly, pulled off his horse, knocked unconscious on the trunk of a nearby tree.

Dragged back to her makeshift lair where she commenced with the ritual. Her first foray into mind control.

Her experiment.

She took his grief and regrets, and transformed them into something more insidious, seething. An ugly scowl weathered into his features, where decades before, a jovial man had once laughed. But her work was awkward and imperfect.

I definitely agree that this accounts for the deadened stare that sometimes crossed Aggravaine’s face, where his inner self surfaced with clarity.

And those words Morgana frequently whispered to him, about ‘true allyship’ and ‘promises of loyalty’ were likely triggers to blind him under the spell again. Repurposed years later to lock Gwen under thr same control, but this time, with enough allowance for free thought to execute more complicated plans.

But Agravaine was her first. The unfortunancy of his circumstances wielded to manipulate Arthur by his only damning weakness. Family.

I love how the Merlin fandom doesn’t agree on everything, but we all can agree that Agravaine is a slimy bastard

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello, could you do, gummigo x wife reader, where the two say goodbye before gummigo leaves with his brothers, to steal Maple Syrup from the Kingdom of Candy Canyon, but when they fall off the map with Pomni, he tells him about the reader Afterwards, when Caine kills Gummigo, I think, the team goes on an adventure again to the same place as Candy, but he finds the village where Gummigo lived. Pomni goes to look for Readee to tell her, and when he finds her, The reader invites her to come to the house, where Pomni discovers that they both had a baby, and Pomni doesn't know how to tell the reader.

pomni visiting npc!gummigoos wife!reader after caine poofs gummigoo

short post! not much to say here in the beginning notes lmao notes: reader is gn, maybe afab due to the baby but one can assume they dont have to be given digital world physics + npc stuff Cws: guilt

one can assume that gummigoo still exists, just poofed and sent back to the void waiting for when he needs to be used once more. though i personally think that if he were to return, he would not remember anything that happened in episode 2... so lets explore two ideas in this post! ill divide each by a gap

assuming gummigoo does not return in the quest that involves the reader, and pomni stumbles upon you and sees your child... oh god she feels so horrible. as far as she knows shes doomed gummigoo- and that he no longer exists. ragathas reassurance that he may come out again did little to comfort her

she cant bring herself to be around you for long

she wants to tell you, she feels like she needs to- but you talk like everything is perfectly fine. of course you would, you werent sentient. you had all of these false memories. to you gummigoo had only been gone for a short period, off trying to get the syrup to save your village

ultimately i feel like pomni may swallow her guilt, what if she told you what happened and the exact same thing happens to you? poofed. she wouldnt let you go to the circus, but does that really matter? does this place still exist when the circus members are there?

its all so suffocating, she cant stand it. and the fact that youre trying to ask her whats wrong only makes her feel worse- she feels like shes going to puke

she likely holes herself up in her room as soon as the adventure ends, trying to recover.. its not going to get easier, is it?

but on the chance that gummigoo is around once more, just without his memories of... everything he experienced that day..

its not much better, but at least pomni can try to convince herself that at least he still exists- even if not consciously. it kills her a little inside to see the three of you interact with each other

completely unaware that you arent real people

you talk about how your child is the light of your life

but theyre just lines of code

the visit is brief, she doesnt find much of a reason to stick around

theres still the thought in her mind, almost telling her that shes obligated to tell you and your family everything thats going on

but you look so peaceful and shes not sure she can handle shattering your reality and just leaving you all alone- she has to go back to the circus eventually and shes learned her lesson that she cant bring any of you with her

similarly, the idea of "do you even exist when you arent needed" plagues her mind- would telling you and leaving you here do anything? would you all just forget again? that feels... needlessly cruel

[in-a-daddy-state-of-mind]

Getting Up Next To You

Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader (background Jake Lockley x f!reader)

Summary: Steven keeps waking up next to you after you and Jake hook up

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of smut, social anxiety, some angst, general self-hatred, let me know if there is anything else I missed. MINORS DNI

Notes: I just love the idea of Steven being an awkward little bean after waking up next to you. Also the idea of him slowly falling in love and you two being little anxious messes. I’m just obsessed with him and I think he could make me like myself more. As always interactions with the post are appreciated as well as feedback!

The first time you met Steven Grant was when he woke up next to you unaware that you would be there. To say he was surprised was an understatement. Waking up next to beautiful women he didn’t remember was not a common occurrence in his life.

Steven almost fell out of the bed when he turned to find you peacefully sleeping next to him. You quickly proceeded to try and calm him down or at least convince him you weren’t an intruder.

“Jake told me this might happen. Are you Marc or Steven?” You quickly questioned trying to deescalate.

It took a second for Steven to process your words. Jake told you? Christ, what had his life become since the third alter joined them.

“Steven. Wait a minute, you know Jake?” He questioned back still confused.

“Yes, we slept together last night. That’s why I’m here.” You answered seeming way too calm for someone that woke up next to a different person sharing the body of your one night stand.

Of course Jake would do something like this. Bring someone into their house and then not even have the common decency to see them out. Steven couldn’t understand how he shared a body with someone so different from himself sometimes.

“I was kind of… spent last night. Couldn’t really walk home afterwards. I’m so sorry I’m bothering you now.” You apologized clinging the bedsheets to your chest.

Oh god that meant you were naked under the sheets. Steven desperately tried to wave that thought away.

“Alright, that is probably more information than I needed to hear. And you’re fine.” Steven said moving away from the bed.

“Thanks.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of you. Neither sure what to do in this situation.

“Do you want to have some breakfast? I make some mean scrambled eggs.” You offered moving away from the bed still clinging to the sheets.

Steven was in a dilemma. He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was here or if Jake would be mad if he accepted. By the situation you two were in, it was clear his alter wasn’t looking for a lasting relationship. Yet, you seemed so kind and there was so much hope in your offer. Damn Jake, he was the one that put Steven in this situation and he would have to deal with the consequences.

“Breakfast sounds lovely. What’s your name by the way?”

You introduced yourself offering your hand for Steven to shake. You were unreasonably cute. Part of Steven wished he was the one that had met you first.

Steven gave you your clothes and moved to the kitchen busying himself while you changed. He was so different from the person you met last night it almost gave you whiplash. You obviously had liked Jake, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone home with him. Yet where Jake was all sharp edges and hungry looks, Steven was smooth and soft. The fact that he didn’t even try to sneak a look at your naked form really solidified you were dealing with someone different.

Once you were fully clothed, you made the breakfast you promised: scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. You and Steven ate together making conversation. You asked him lots of questions and seemed genuinely interested in his answers. What was his favorite breakfast food, how long has he lived in London, did he prefer breakfast or dinner. Being socially anxious this was your strategy for when you met new people. Just ask them as many questions as you could, start from what you are doing now and try to trace it back all the way to their family roots. This way conversation would happen and you didn’t have to panic about being in silence and them hating your presence.

Steven was surprisingly disappointed when the meal ended. He wanted to keep talking to you. In the short amount of time you spent together he had rather enjoyed your company. Nobody was usually interested in spending time with him, and yet here you were. A complete stranger that had managed to learn more about him over the span of a meal than most of the people he had been working with for years.

“I’m off then. It was lovely to meet you, Steven.” You said after you helped him put all the dishes in the sink.

“It was lovely to meet you too. I hope we’ll get to see each other again.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. But I hope so too.”

The smile you gave him made his heart melt. Gosh, he would have to beg Jake to make this not a one night stand.

Steven had berated Jake with questions after that morning. He wanted to know all he could about you and yet he was met with the answer of “you were just some girl he met at a bar”.

It’s not like Jake didn’t like you. He most certainly did. You were hot, the sex was amazing, and he actually enjoyed talking to you at the bar. But Jake was not in the business of collecting repeated trading cards. He was not looking for a relationship and was very secure in his choices which just made Steven more displeased that really it was unlikely he would meet you again.

That was of course until he once more woke up next to you and this time actually fell out of the bed in surprise.

“Steven, calm down! It’s just me!” You shouted trying to calm your own rapid heartbeat from the shock of being woken up like that.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“You reacted the same way you did last time. Also you have a British accent. Jake told me the other one doesn’t.”

“Jake told you?” Steven questioned uncertain as to why his alter would just offer you information like this. “Yeah, I asked him about you.” You said nonchalantly.

Steven could almost hear his heart stop. Fuck, you asked about him. He tried to not get his hopes up but the very fact you wanted to know more about him had to mean that you also thought about him after. Right?

“I have been dreaming about those scrambled eggs.” He said with a smile.

And about her. You won’t shut up about it. Steven ignored Jake’s voice in his head.

“I’ll gladly make them again for you!”

With that you two did the same as last time with Steven moving to the kitchen to grab ingredients while you put your clothes back on. This time, however, it felt comfortable. Familiar. You didn’t feel stressed around Steven despite the fact you had only met him once and the fact that the voices in your head weren’t screaming that this was awkward and you needed to leave as they usually did was something you didn’t know what to do with.

Truth be told, you had secretly hoped Steven would be the one you woke up next to before you fell asleep the night prior. When you saw Jake from across the bar the previous night you wanted to sink into your seat. The two of them hadn’t left your mind since the last time but as usual it would take way too much courage you didn’t have to actually go speak to him. And he clearly had meant for it to be a one-time thing, you could get the context clues for that. So you can imagine your shock when Jake approached you again, just as flirtatious as last time. One thing led to another and you were once again here with Steven eating eggs.

This time around you asked him if he minded you turning on the TV while you two ate. So you sat next to him watching a re-run of Doctor Who while you still asked questions. This time the questions were all related to his interests and you were perhaps the first person Steven met that didn’t seem to immediately check out when he went on a rant about how Gods of Egypt had gotten it all wrong. Steven was in trouble and he knew it.

Once more, the meal seemed to end way too quickly and before Steven knew it you were taking the dishes to the sink and picking up your bag.

“Wait, don’t you at least want to see the end of the episode? I mean I would be devastated if you didn’t know what happened about those blasted Weeping Angels.” Steven offered.

Truth was you had seen Blink more times than you could count but you still accepted Steven’s offer. There was so much hope in his eyes you just couldn’t say no. You both sat on the couch and continued watching the episode making comments about your thoughts on it. You ended up watching the episode they aired after it too and it was afternoon by the time you finally left.

Steven really hoped Jake would choose to bring you home again.

Before Steven saw you next he argued with Jake endlessly. He lost count of how much time he spent in front of the mirror just grilling Jake on why he wouldn’t invite you on a proper date. He clearly liked you and it was the least you deserved. If Steven couldn’t be in a relationship with you, he at least would like for someone in the system to do it. Yet, as always Jake would give the same answer: he was not interested in a relationship. True, he had slept with you twice. And brought you to the actual apartment versus your own house or the cab. All steps he hadn’t taken with anyone really but that was it. He wouldn’t cross anymore boundaries with you and a date would definitely cross many.

And then, after weeks of arguing, Steven woke up next to you again. Except this time he wasn’t frightened. He didn’t scream or fall out of the bed, he just laid there looking at you and trying to figure out how he could not disturb your sleep and yet still get to spend the day with you. After what felt like years but was probably a couple of minutes your eyes opened and focused on Steven’s. The moment they did you opened an enchanting smile.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this, Steven.” You joked.

“I rather like the sight of you first thing in the morning.” Steven said making your cheeks turn red.

He really hoped that wasn’t too straight forward but it was like these feeling inside of him refused to be contained. He was had it bad for you. Really bad.

“So breakfast?” You simply said already sitting up and looking around for your clothes.

“Actually I was planning to go to the museum today. A new exhibition on modern art just opened and I was going to go today anyway so maybe you could join me? We could get breakfast at the coffee shop there.”

Steven’s voice almost broke at the end. He was so nervous but he just couldn’t bear to think you would leave so early again.

“Don’t you work at the museum?” You questioned.

“Yes, but my boss Donna can be real nasty. She would never let me actually see the exhibition during work hours.” Steven explained.

“Sure then! I would love to!”

Steven almost couldn’t believe the word coming out of your mouth. How could he be so damn lucky?

You two went to the museum and Steven couldn’t have dreamed of something better. You had a genuine discussion about what art was and what your favorite painter were. You ended up seeing the new exhibition but also just walking around the entire museum. You stayed at least an hour in the Egyptian exhibit as Steven told you every detail about every piece and the history behind it.

Steven was enchanting. Gosh, when he went on his rants his eyes lit up and the perpetual dark bags under his eyes seemed to disappear. He was always beautiful but in the museum he absolutely glowed.

When he got too excited about showing you different things he grabbed you by the hand and dragged you from one piece to another. The contact was so small and innocent compared to the ones you’ve had with this same body in the past but it still made you blush. Fuck, you were whipped. You liked Steven. Not only Jake but now you truly couldn’t deny that you were crushing bad on Steven.

By the time you were finished with the museum it was late afternoon. Steven couldn’t remember a day he had enjoyed more. You both had decided to get food at a vegan restaurant close to the museum he loved. The meal was going lovely as always but one thing was in his mind and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Why do you still sleep with Jake?” Steven blurted out almost involuntarily.

“What?”

“You clearly deserve better! You don’t deserve to be with a bloody wanker that will sleep with you and then not even have the decency to wake up next to you!”

To say you had not expected this was an understatement. You stuttered not really sure how to respond.

“Do I deserve better?” You asked letting your insecurity come through.

“Yes! You deserve the world.”

“It really doesn’t feel like that sometimes.” You confessed.

Steven quickly moved from his position on the other side of the booth you were sitting in to get closer to you. He placed his hand on your cheek making you look him in the eye.

“Oh, love. You do. You’re brilliant and you deserve someone who will make you feel like it. You deserve someone who will worship you.” Steven said softly.

“Someone like you?” A boldness took over you and forced you to say it.

You immediately regretted it and was about to apologize when Steven cut you off.

“If you’d have me.”

Instead of replying, you closed the distance between the two of you and kissed Steven. First the kiss was soft, temptation but as soon as he responded it quickly become hungry. Steven had been waiting for this moment for more than a month now and it felt fantastic. It was all he wanted and dreamed it would be.

The next time Steven woke up next to you was different. He wasn’t on the other side of the bed as usual. Instead he was pressed against your back, feeling your warmth as he snuggled closer to you.

He was the one that got to fall asleep next to you the previous night after he was the one to finally ravish your body. Hearing you scream his name as he plunged into you was enchanting and he understood why Jake kept coming back to you.

And now here he was. Getting to look at you in the morning knowing exactly how you both ended up in that position.

You stirred in your sleep and turned to look at him. You opened that same sweet smile that melted his heart.

“Good morning, Steven.”

“Good morning, love.”

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Saved Part 3

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: the outcome of the poll was quite clear 😊 I hear read and obey, my masters!

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warning: 18+, SMUT

Word Count: 4,978

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

An awkward silence hung between you and Sihtric as you sat beneath the old oak tree. You could see that he was searching for words to continue the conversation, but as he hesitated your mind began to drift again.

Nearly a year had passed since the day Sihtric had joined your brother’s man. You couldn't help but smile remembering Sihtric’s early days in the camp. He appeared utterly lost at times, unsure of what to do with his newfound freedom. He eagerly took on any tasks available, striving to be useful while remaining unnoticed as much as possible. During the evenings, he would simply vanish, never seen drinking, gambling, or engaging in any quarrels with the other men. However, what puzzled you the most was his attitude towards you. It wasn't as if he was intentionally avoiding you, but it was evident that he made a conscious effort to stay out of your way as much as possible.

“Sihtric,” you called out as you spotted him tending to the horses a week after. He turned his head with a startled and surprised look on his face.

“Yes, Lady!” he responded, facing you with a bowed head and his gaze fixed on the ground before his feet. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, his entire body displaying visible tension.

“Can I do something for you, Lady?”

“No, not really. Just wanted to ask you, whether you are fine. I haven’t seen you a while,” you approached him and stood directly in front of him.

“You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”

“No, Lady, certainly not. I was just … I…,” he struggled to find the right words, his face blushing with trepidation. His nervousness was endearing and captivating, bringing a smile to your face.

“Let me see your brow,” you ordered and Sihtric hesitantly raised his head, allowing you to inspect his wound. He closed his eyes as you examined it.

“It has healed, but the scar will be quite noticeable,” you remarked, gently touching his brow with your thumb. “You should have come to me earlier to have the stitches removed.”

“I did not want to bother you, Lady,” Sihtric murmured, completely frozen, his body tense like a tightly wound bow, his muscles clenched. You stepped back and observed him exhale and relax slightly.

“Come to my tent later when you finish with the horses. I will remove the stiches,” you instructed, smiling encouragingly before turning to walk away. With a quick glance you noticed that Sihtric remained motionless for a moment, his muscles still tense and eyes closed. Eventually, he regained his composure, shook himself, and turned to attend to the horses.

You couldn't help but feel curious about whether Sihtric would show up afterward. It was unexpected to discover that your mere presence could be so intimidating, but it was clear that the young Dane felt uneasy when you were close. Hours had passed, and you had completely forgotten about Sihtric as you were called to tend to a broken leg, a task that required applying splints and securing bandages. By the time you returned to your tent, twilight had descended, and you noticed a silhouette standing before the entrance. The figure raised its hand as if about to open the tent flaps, only to retract it and linger there, seemingly gathering strength and courage to enter. The hand rose again, almost touching the flaps, but at the last moment, it was lowered, accompanied by a sigh, and the figure turned to walk away. You instantly recognised Sihtric and called out his name, causing him to freeze and turn in the direction of the sound.

“Yes, Lady!” came his familiar response.

“You know I don’t bite and if you were to inquire, I'm sure you would hear that I don't eat young warriors for breakfast,” you couldn’t resist teasing him slightly.

“Come inside,” you ordered with firm voice and Sihtric obediently followed you.

“Sit down on that bench over there, near the candles,” you continued as he looked at you in confusion, unsure of where to move and what to do.

You fetched your instruments and a jar of salve. Approaching Sihtric you sensed the tension building up in his body once again. However, this time you chose to ignore it. You had a valid reason to get as close to him as possible, so you positioned yourself between his legs and began your work. Carefully, you cut the stitches and pulled them out with a pair of tweezers. Then, you applied the salve to his brow and massaged it thoroughly with your fingers. You hummed softly, as you always did when working. Being a healer was not just a skill for you; it was your true calling. When you were immersed in your work, everything else faded away, and this tent became your sanctuary, and you were the priestess.

Sihtric’s anxiety and tension gradually relaxed, and this time he kept his eyes open, observing you with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. You were so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, and you could hear the quickening of his heartbeat.  And again you found yourself drawn to this young man, fascinated by him, though you weren't yet willing to admit it to yourself. There was something about him that radiated a captivating combination of submissiveness and insecurity, intertwined with boldness, strength, and sincerity.

“I don’t understand, Lady,” Sihtric's words broke the silence, surprising you. You looked at him, puzzled.

“I still can’t understand why you are doing this. I am a nobody, a bastard, the son of a man who destroyed your family, and I was sent to kill your brother. In truth, I don’t even deserve to be here. I don’t deserve lord Uhtred’s trust and I certainly don’t deserve your attention,” his words, spoken with humility and self-deprecation caught you off guard, “I… I was avoiding you because I didn’t know how to thank you. I doubt I will ever be able to repay you… You are so…,” he hesitated searching for the right words, “different. I have never met anyone like you.”

“Sihtric!” you gently interrupted him, placing your palms around his neck and cupping his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Stop it. You can’t hold things against yourself that were beyond your control, things your father did,” you gazed at his handsome, sharply defined face, admiring his strong jaw, captivating eyes, and straight nose.

Your eyes lingered on his lips, and you were so tempted to lean in and kiss them that you had to release your grip on him. You weren't ready to confess your feelings to yourself, let alone to Sihtric. However, your cheeks flushed, and you noticed your heart racing and pounding with such intensity that you thought he must have sensed it. But it seemed that Sihtric was completely oblivious to your state. At the same moment you let go of him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your clothes. He breathed in your scent, holding onto you, and it became apparent to you that he was sobbing. His shoulders trembled, and his whole body shook. You placed your hand on his head, allowing your fingers to trail through his hair, gently caressing him.

"Sihtric, I am certain that you deserve everything that has happened in these few days, and much more," you whispered, taken aback by his reaction. "Sihtric, can you hear me? You deserve all the good things that can and will happen to you. Never doubt that!” you were soothing him.

In that very moment he abruptly released his hold on you, jumping off the bench and pushing you aside rather roughly. An expression of absolute embarrassment covered his face as he stormed out of your tent.

From that day forward, Sihtric avoided you profoundly, and you accepted that. You understood that he was embarrassed by the vulnerability you had witnessed and didn't want to remind him of it. He needed time to adjust and to accept his new life. And you were willing to give him that time, especially because you needed it too. You still hadn’t sorted out your own feeling for him.

Months passed, battles were fought, and the life went on. You had plenty of work and you loved it, as it helped you to keep Sihtric out of your mind. Uhtred along with you and his warriors had returned to his estate in Cochem when news arrived that the Princess Ettelflaed of Wessex were kidnapped. Uhtred sent Sihtric to Beamfleot to spy on Erik and Sigfried and gather information. Upon his return, Uhtred selected a small group of his most trusted men, including Sihtric, and set off to rescue the princess. It was absolutely mad plan, but it worked, and the princess was safely delivered back to her father. Sihtric proved himself to be not only a reliable and skilled spy but also a skilled warrior. You observed him gradually gaining confidence and finding his place among Uhtred's most trusted companions. And you were pleased when he finally ceased avoiding you, and your somewhat awkward relationship turned into casual conversations and encounters, much like you had with the other men in Uhtred's company. You convinced yourself that your feelings for Sihtric were merely genuine sympathy, and you were content knowing that Uhtred had found such a loyal and worthy friend in him. He had become a part of your family, and you loved him as a brother.

However, if you had allowed yourself to think about Sihtric’s behaviour more carefully, you would have noticed that he not only stopped avoiding you, but actively sought your presence, seizing every opportunity to be near you.

He was always eager to help you get off your horse, and whenever the opportunity arose, his hands lingered on your waist for a moment longer than necessary. And each time you failed to notice that a tinge of sadness flickered in his eyes. He followed you with his eyes when he believed you were not looking. Had you paid closer attention, you would have seen the gentle yearning in his eyes. You were oblivious how his eyes lightened up with anticipation whenever he saw you entering the great hall to join the evening feasts. Perhaps you really did not notice these subtleties. Or maybe you had intentionally chosen not to see these signs, fearing that they would disrupt what you had convinced yourself of – that your feelings for him were nothing more than sisterly love and joy for his transformation.

Meanwhile Sihtric slowly, but surely began to lose hope of recapturing your attention. He had been so weak and so vulnerable, losing his composure and succumbing to tears in your presence like a small child. 

It was unworthy behaviour for a warrior, and he was uncertain if he would ever be able to approach you without feeling embarrassed. He couldn’t even dare to dream that you could feel anything beyond pity for him. And pity was the last thing he desired from you. He longed to impress you, to earn your admiration and respect, but above all, he craved for your love.

But dream he did and his dreams were filled with you. Most frequently he dreamed of your first encounter – the brief glimpse he managed to cast on you, holding Uhtreds hands, as he was being dragged away by Clapa. Your beauty had struck him and his only thought at that moment had been, how fortunate Uhtred was to have such a stunning and caring wife. That dream always reminded him how later that night you suddenly stood before him, inquiring if he was hurt and he believed the gods were cruelly playing with him, driving him to madness.

You had taken his breath away. Your strong and self-assured presence, your genuine care for him, your hands tenderly touching his face as you cleaned up the blood, the fragrance he inhaled when you knelt beside him to tend to his wound – it stirred emotions within him that he never knew they existed. Everything that happened that night and the following day seemed utterly surreal and impossible to him - your mad proposal, his oath, and his newfound freedom.

He had often dreamt of escaping Dunholm, leaving behind his indifferent father, who seemed to notice him only when there was a cause to punish him. He had yearned to be free from a life where misery and beatings had become the norm, and where the only solace he found was in his sword training. Even the gruff warrior who instructed the youngsters and was eager to beat them for every mistake, could not deny Sihtric’s talent with the blade. The lessons became his salvation. He trained with relentless determination, pushing himself to complete exhaustion, and dreamed of becoming a true warrior. And then, in the most unlikely and unbelievable manner, his dreams became a reality.

At first, he attempted to remain invisible, as he had learned to do in Dunholm, keeping himself out of sight as much as possible. However, an entire week had passed, and no one had treated him with deliberate cruelty. He was not driven away from the fires when seeking warmth, food and ale were provided for him, and he was even given furs to keep himself covered at night.

Then, at the end of that first week, he encountered you again. He had not actively avoided you, nor had he sought you out. He was unsure of how to act in your presence, uncertain of what to say or how to properly express his gratitude. He was afraid that most probably he will not be able to say anything at all. Overwhelming surge of emotions overcame him in your tent, having you so close to him that he could hear your heartbeat, feeling once again the tender touch of your hands on his face, and breathing in your scent that had driven him to madness already the previous time. In that moment, something broke deep inside of him, and tears welled up in his eyes, impossible to hold back. He buried his face in your clothes and wept, something he hadn't allowed himself since his mother's death fifteen years ago when he was a mere four-year-old boy.

As you whispered comforting words and gently stroked his head, he tried to regain his composure. His weakness embarrassed him, and he wished for the earth to open and swallow him whole, to avoid meeting your gaze. It was then, when driven by that shame, he abruptly stormed out of the tent, convinced that he would never be able to look into your eyes again without feeling an overwhelming sense of shame.

He volunteered for each, and every task Uhtred proposed, hoping to prove to you just how skilled, brave, and strong he was, determined to show that he was not a weakling unable to control his own emotions. And indeed, he was good in everything he was doing. He had become one of Uhtred's most trusted men, a friend and companion. However, the one person he cared about the most, the person he wanted to impress above all, seemed to no longer notice him, and Sihtric felt a growing sense of desperation.

He tried to forget about you, spending his silver on women in the cities they visited, searching for someone who could overshadow you. But each time he returned to Cocchem and saw you again, he was captivated anew. His gaze would scan your features, and he would dream of holding you in his arms. Every time you spoke to him, he bit his tongue to keep his feelings from spilling out.

And then Ragnar arrived. He had assembled enough warriors to finally settle his blood feud with Kjartan and had come to ask if Uhtred would join him and today, they were marching together to Dunholm. Sihtric was present when the decision was made. He had shared all he knew about Dunholm with Uhtred, and one thing he was certain of was that Dunholm was an impregnable fortress. Even with the well-thought-out plan, many men would die in this endeavor. Sihtric did not fear death; it was a constant presence in his life as a warrior. But what truly frightened him was the possibility of dying before he could confess his feelings to you. And this time you were not coming with them. Uhtred had forbidden it, claiming it was too dangerous. Knowing that Sihtric had wrestled with himself the previous night, unable to find sleep, and now here he was, sitting beside you under the oak tree, unable to find the right words.

“I...we...you know, we are marching to Dunholm," Sihtric finally managed to continue the conversation, drawing you away from your thoughts. "I...uhh...ehh, I just wanted to thank you before we leave. I don't think I ever managed to properly thank you for everything you've done for me."

"Sihtric, you don't have to. I'm happy to have you by my brother's side. You've already saved his life more than once, and that means the world to me," you turned to face him, your eyes scanning his handsome features, his strong jaw, his captivating eyes, the scars on his face and arms—some new ones catching your attention. You couldn't deny that he was incredibly attractive. Your gaze unintentionally wandered to his broad chest and back to his muscular arms, and in a surprising moment, you found yourself imagining his strong arms enveloping your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest. Your breathing quickened, and willing to escape the awkwardness of the moment, you stood up, intending to leave. However, Sihtric immediately reached out and grabbed your hand.

"Don't! Please, don't leave," there was a mix of desperation and fear in his voice, causing you to halt in astonishment. Sihtric rose to his feet, still holding your hand, and locked his gaze with yours.

"I can't leave without saying this to you," he muttered. "I just don't know how. I don't know how to find the right words."

"To say what?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"That I love you!" The words finally escaped Sihtric's lips, barely audible. Sihtric kept his gaze interlocked with yours, waiting for your reaction, while you stared back at him in utter surprise. And in that moment, a realization struck you—something you couldn't deny any longer. Your well-crafted arguments that you loved him as a brother crumbled instantaneously, as you admitted to yourself the truth that had always been there: you loved him too. You had loved him from the very first sight of him, from his first hesitant words spoken that evening.

"You are so beautiful, so strong and confident, so bold and kind. I...I have never met anyone like you before," Sihtric whispered, still holding onto you. He gently placed his other hand on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. "And I know I don't deserve you...all I wanted was to earn your respect, to show you that I am worthy of your attention," Sihtric continued, his eyes locked with yours. Doubt and despair began to creep into his gaze as he searched for any sign, a hint from you that his feelings were not in vain, that there might be a chance you liked him at least.

However, you were too taken aback by the turn of the conversation to form any words, and Sihtric interpreted it as rejection. His eyes darkened, and he let go of you.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry. It was foolish of me to think that you could want someone like me," he stepped back, and you could see the pain and heartbreak written plainly on his face.

"Sihtric," you exclaimed, finally breaking free from your astonishment. "Wait, don't you dare to leave me again!" And this time, it was you who grabbed his hand in a panicked attempt to stop him from storming away.

"I love you, you incredibly foolish man!" there was a mixture of excitement, tenderness, and frustration in your voice as you stepped closer to him.

"You love me?" Sihtric questioned in disbelief and astonishment, yet his strong arms were already pulling you closer until he held you in his embrace, pressing you tightly against his chest, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you! And you never had to prove or show me anything! Love doesn't work that way, Sihtric!" you whispered, “Don’t you remember what I said to you – you deserve all the good things that will happen to you and even more. You deserve being loved and cared for,” and as these words escaped your lips Sihtric leaned in to kiss them. It was a gentle and tender kiss, his lips timidly brushing against yours, as if seeking permission to be there. And feeling a shiver run down your spine from the tight grip of his arms around your waist, you responded to his kiss eager for more.

Your lips parted and his tongue slid inside meeting yours. The kiss deepened and soon you both found yourself gasping for breath, unwilling to let go of each other. Sihtric’s hands traced your contours. So many times, being with other women, he had been imagining it was you he were holding in his arms and now that even this dream had come true, he could hardly believe it.

He craved for you and without a moment hesitation his hands trembling in desperate eagerness started to untie your dress and a gasp escaped his lips with his breath taken away in awe when the dress slid down over your shoulders to your waist, revealing your naked upper body to his sight. You leaned yourself against the tree and Sihtric took a step back marveling you with his hungry eyes, he unbuckled his coat and spread it on the ground, just to grab your hands again and pull you back in his tight embrace.

His body pressed against yours and the touch of his rough fingers on your skin made you exhale loudly aching for more. Your fingers traced alongside Sihtric’s strong arms, reached his chest and you started undoing his armour, pulling it eagerly over his head as soon as it was loose enough. Your hands were instantly back on his waist and started undoing his breeches. Even through the clothes you could feel how aroused and hard he already was, and you moaned in satisfaction feeling that he was consumed by the desire of you as much as you craved for him.

All you wanted in that moment was to feel him inside you. You had been waiting for him so long, you did not want any foreplay. You needed to feel him filling you and claiming you as his. You let the dress drop to your feet and stepped out of it. Sihtric’s tongue was sliding up your throat, his breath heavy in arousal and anticipation. He stiffened for a moment in hesitation and raised his head for his eyes to meet yours in a silent plea for a permission.

“Please, take me! I need you; I need to feel you inside me or I will just go mad,” you begged him. Groaning in pleasure at your words he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up. You responded to his movement by wrapping your legs around his waist. Sihtric pushed your back against the tree and thrusted deep inside you with a hoarse moan of pleasure escaping his lips. He froze for a moment, taking delight in sensing your walls tightly around his cock.

“Gods, you are so perfect,” he murmured in your ear, “so beautiful and mine. Finally, mine!”

“More, Sihtric, I need more of you! Don’t hold back,” you whimpered, and he obeyed instantly, by pulling his cock out and slamming back into you, over and over again, his movements getting faster with each thrust, his breath heavier and his moans louder.

“So good, my love!” he hissed, “You are made for me! So perfect, so tight around me,” he praised you and when you didn’t answer immersed in the oblivion of you own pleasure, feeling your climax quickly building up, you heard him breathing in your ear: “My love … Please, say it to me,” he whimpered. “I need to hear it. I want to hear that you are enjoying me, that I am pleasuring you.”

“Oh … Gods, Sihtric!” you could only whine, digging your nails in his back and trying to adjust your movements to his ever-faster pace, “You are driving me mad! You are so good, don’t stop, please just don’t stop!” you begged him and with these words you reached your peak with a loud moan.

Feeling your walls clenching against his cock, Sihtric buried his face in your neck and pressed himself further into you. Your eyes widened in surprise. His cock filled you, reaching unimaginably deep inside you, hitting the back walls and all the pleasure spots of your vagina, and even before the waves of your first peak managed to subside you were aroused again.

“Can you handle a little bit more of me, my love?” Sihtric mumbled in your ear.

“Yes, yes… aah, Sihtric,” you called his name arching your back.

Sihtric hesitantly pulled out, earning a surprised moan from you, and gently lay you down on his cloak, lowering his body on yours and settling himself between your legs. You felt him pushing inside you again and moaned in pleasure.

“You are my love, my saviour, my healer and my goddess and I will be worshipping you as long as I live,” Sihtric whispered locking his gaze with you.

“Aah, Sihtric,” you gasped digging your nails into his hips as he started thrusting into you deep and hard, “Gods, how good you feel inside me!”

“Mhm,” Sihtric grunted in pleasure, “Look into my eyes, my love!” he demanded, “I want you to look in my eyes when you come. You have the most beautiful eyes, I have ever seen!” His groans were filling the air, making you forget everything around you. Feeling his body brushing against your clit and his cock ravaging you from inside you raised your eyes to meet his and let out a loud scream as another climax washed over you, with your whole-body trembling in excitement and in the same instant you felt Sihtric reaching his high and spilling within you with a passionate and loud growl.

You both were breathing heavily, Sihtric’s forehead was resting upon yours and his hand was gently cupping your cheek. He kissed you tenderly and wrapped his arms around you as his lips kept placing hot kisses down your jaw and neck with unending love and gentleness in his movements.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too, my goddess. I always loved you, from the very first sight of you. I was completely lost, and you gave me a reason to live, and I promise, I will come back to you,” Sihtric placed a tender kiss on your forehead. Deep inside him he had been afraid of returning to Dunholm, afraid that his old life would consume him and shatter his dreams. But now he was certain that nothing would prevent him from coming back home to you.

---------------------------------------------

"You can set up my tent now," a familiar firm voice echoed through the camp, and two figures sitting by the fireplace immediately stood up as if startled by a venomous snake. Uhtred and Sihtric exchanged bewildered and disbelieving glances.

"No, no, no...it can't be true," Uhtred growled, turning towards the direction of the voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, peering into the darkness.

"Did you really think you could leave me behind? I thought you knew me better," you chuckled, emerging from the shadows, and approaching the fireplace.

"Uhtred, I am a grown up woman, free to travel wherever I wish. If it makes you feel better, let's pretend I'm visiting that old healer from Lindisfarena near Dunholm," you said, looking at Sihtric, who was taken completely aback by your sudden appearance, his face involuntarily lighting up with a broad smile. It had been foolish of him to believe that you would obediently stay back home, as Uhtred had insisted. Sihtric knew he had fallen in love with an extraordinary woman – kind, fearless, strong-willed, and confident – and he never wanted you to change. As you drew closer, he embraced you, lifted you in the air, and spun you around as if you were a feather. Setting you down on your feet, Sihtric leaned in and passionately kissed your lips.

"Sihtric," anger, surprise, and bewilderment laced Uhtred's voice, "what are you doing with my sister?"

"I love her, Lord!" Sihtric answered without hesitation.

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: Jason Remembers Nico

Sunlight streaks in through the half-open arena roof, bathing their section in warm, mid-afternoon gold. Jason, who has decided to spend their short mid-class break sprawled out in the dirt, basks in the warmth of it. 

He’s hot from training, sure, and maybe everyone else is smarter for seeking shelter in the shade of the spectator stands, but something about the afternoon sun is like wrapping up in a blanket. A cozy, tingly kind of warmth. 

Maybe, in another life, Jason was a child of Apollo. Wouldn’t that be something? Jason Grace: still a child of the sky, but without all the pressure. It sounds pretty nice, he won’t lie. 

As the class murmurs in the background, Jason lets himself relax. Really, truly relax, starting with his shoulders, down his arms, his wrists, his knuckles. He loosens his back on a deep exhale, and down his legs, until he feels as boneless and one-with-the-earth as he possibly can. 

A cool shade passes over him. It settles across his face, as if something has come by and blocked out the sun. 

He peeks. 

“You’ll get a sunburn,” Nico says, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. 

“And you won’t?” Jason closes his eyes again. Honestly, having Nico’s chilly aura nearby is kind of awesome when the sun’s this perfect. Yin and yang, right? Balance. 

Plus, y’know, doesn’t hurt a guy’s pride to have the well documented people-avoider seeking him out. Even if it’s to save him from himself. Score one: Jason. 

“My hair will spare my neck, I’m sure.” 

Jason smiles. “I like your hair long, you know. I wish I could grow my hair out like that.” 

Nico makes a scoffing sound, like he can’t decide if he wants to be amused or offended. Jason peeks again. 

“Perfect Praetor Grace wants to look like an unwashed rat?” 

“That’s not what I said. I said I wanted to grow my hair long, like yours.” 

He watches Nico rolls his eyes and shake his head, but he doesn’t push the point. 

Score two: Jason. 

A breeze rolls in off the strawberry hills, bringing the scent of grass and summer in to mix with the kicked up dirt and metal of the arena. Jason lulls into it. 

Gods, this is peaceful. It probably shouldn’t be, in the middle of teaching a class on self-defense. Jason’s always been a creature of habit, though, and battle was always an ironically safe space for him. Let out his aggression in a semi-healthy way, or something. 

Back at Camp Jupiter, they would have him fight in the coliseum every so often, a demonstration of his power, his capability to lead. They called him ruthless. He only ever lost one fight, which earned the victor a massive wave of support when it came time to elect praetors. 

It’s a strange memory, but one he smiles at nonetheless. Reyna was nothing short of vicious when they went toe-to-toe; she was the only person who ever fought the way Jason felt like he needed to, like it was sink or swim. Victory or death. 

There was one match, after Reyna, after people realized that Jason could be beaten, where he accidentally let too much of that side show. When he threw down his sword and took his opponent to the ground to fight like the wolves did, in the grass with teeth and claws and the rest of the pack swarming around them, snarling their approval. 

One face stood out in that crowd, afterward, of people stepping around him, giving him a wide berth while he scrubbed the blood off his mouth. It was a boy, wearing a too-loose purple shirt and a look on his face like he knew exactly what he’d seen. A boy with hair that turned brown in the light and eyes like nothing Jason had ever seen - not quite haunted, but certainly too old for the face they sat within. When the light hit them, it almost seemed to disappear. 

Jason never spoke to the boy. 

He opens his eyes again. Nico blinks down at him, his head tilted, eyebrows creased and mouth frowning. 

Jason grins back. Nico’s eyebrow twitches. 

“What.” 

“Nothing,” Jason says. A lifetime ago, Jason singled out one boy in a crowd, and despite having forgotten, lost everything, built himself anew—here that boy sits. Shielding him from the sun. Still, somehow, knowing Jason better than he’s ever known himself. “I’m just glad we’re friends.” 

“Ugh, gods,” Nico’s face goes pink, and his hands move, covering over his mouth and nose. “You’re worse than Will.” 

“I’m doing my job well, then.” 

Nico shakes his head, his hair drifting over his shoulders in the process, hanging in the air between them. Jason wants to reach up and touch it, fiddle with the strands like Leo does with Piper’s hair when they’re hanging out in the bunker. 

“I should let you burn,” Nico says. He doesn’t move. 

The victor in the colosseum would have shored up his walls at that. Closed himself off from the boy with underworld eyes. Heard nothing but the implication that Jason needs someone else to keep him safe, to keep him from getting himself hurt. 

Maybe that’s why Nico never spoke to him, back at Camp Jupiter. Maybe that’s why Jason never got up the nerve to approach him. Too scared to let himself trust. 

“I put my life in your hands,” Jason teases, crossing his arms behind his head. 

The sun is warm on his skin. The chuff of Nico’s disbelieving, snorting laugh is warmer. 

[imahyperfixatedbitch]

🎅A WENDIGO CHRISTMAS🎅

@untildawn-secretsanta

@lookimtryingmybest HI!!! This is my present for you this Christmas!! I hope you enjoy it! You'll get some good old nonsense in the end. I was planning to draw you something but I couldn't so I wrote my first fanfic ever for you! I hope you enjoy it!

You could call Josh the revengeful type. He was like, planning a super elaborate “prank” in order to finally avenge his sisters’ disappearance after the very infamous joke they pulled on Hannah. However, Josh had been doubting the usefulness of such a plan. It had started not long ago, after a call with Chris and Ashley, he started feeling bad about it. First he thought about Chris and Ashley:he had very mixed feelings about them. One part of him was jealous of Ashley, as he loved Chris, his childhood bff, but the other part kind of wanted her as well? Weird. Then he started thinking about his friend Sam, she didn't even participate in the prank, and lately they had been supporting one another. Then the final factor appeared: Christmas was near and his parents wouldn't even be here to celebrate it with him, and if his sisters weren't here either, what was the point? So he had an idea to solve both problems: what if he invited all his “friends” (he's not even sure they still are his friends) for Christmas? Then he could decide if he forgave them AND he wouldn't be all alone. Josh hated loneliness. So he called them all. And these kids apparently didn't want to attend the family dinner because everyone accepted.

Everyone was back at the lodge, the first people to arrive were Ashley and Chris. They came together and Josh could feel his “mixed feelings” about them rise the second he saw them.

“Hey bro! Hey Ashley!” He greeted them

“‘Sup”

“Hi!” he hugged both of them. Quickly afterwards an awkward silence settled in.

“Anyone wanna play dnd?” Chris spoke in an attempt to stop the awkwardness, and, I mean, it worked because now Josh and Ashley just felt despair.

“Dude please tell me you didn't bring all of your dnd stuff…”

“Uh…”

“I asked you if you had it before we headed out and you swore you only brought presents!!” Ashley joined in the complaints.

“Well, I mean, playing dnd IS a present!”

“Ugh…”

“So will you guys play or-”

“NO.” Their little banter was quickly interrupted by noises they heard in front of the living room.

“This bitch better get lost on her way. I can't stand her ugly ass.”

“Calm down Emily…remember we're all here for Josh today” Oh, another couple with issues. Hopefully they can fix them for Christmas, that would be like a hallmark movie. Matt and Emily entered the place, and immediately noticed how their three friends were looking at them.

“Oh, did you guys like, hear us?”

“Yeah.” Josh decided to be honest, but before any of them could really address it. A braided blondie came in with her boyfriend.

“Hiiiii” she cheerfully greeted and hugged everyone, well except Emily of course.

“This bitch-” Emily quickly interrupted herself when she saw the pleading look Matt gave her.

“Almost everyone is here, where's Sam?” Josh asked.

“Right here.” Sam was right behind him and just gave him the fright of his life.

“HOLY SHIT SAM WHY”

“Ha, I'm getting back at you for all the times you scared me” she playfully elbowed him.

After a while, the atmosphere was still pretty tense, no one was really doing anything. Sam took a look at Josh and noticed how he wasn't looking really comfortable. She decided to talk to him.

“Hey, Josh”

“Sup Sam.”

“Are you planning to do anything? Like, watching a Christmas movie, do you have a Christmas playlist? Maybe board games?”

“Uh, I mean I bought beers”

“Let me take charge for a while.”

Sam stood up and started assigning tasks to her friends, dividing them in groups (that she chose carefully).

“Okay so, Ash,Chris and Josh, go turn the electricity generator on in the basement, then we can get more light, no offense Josh, but these candles are not enough. Matt and Emily could start getting the table ready for dinner. Jess could change the decorations a bit, Josh, I know you love your favorite indie horror movie's Christmas merch but I think Jess could make everything a bit, uh, prettier. Mike and I could go searching for board games or anything that could entertain us tonight, okay?” Everyone nodded and started working on their assigned tasks.

“Why does no one want to play dnd!? It's so interesting!”

“Dude!”

“What!?”

“I'm shivering!” Ashley chimed in.

“Oh, do you want one of my flannels?”

“How many flannels do you have!?”

Josh clicked on a secret button on the wall,it revealed a closet full of flannels, there was like every flannel you could imagine. Red one, purple,pink, barbie flannel, horror flannel, flannels with fur on the sleeves, etc…

Ashley gasped “What the hell!? I'm actually impressed.”

“And I'm the weirdo because I like dnd. You're obsessed with flannels!” Chris shook his head.

“Flannels are useful okay!?” Josh defensively responded.

“Oh I like this one!” Ashley tried a green one on.

“Oh my god it was made for you! That's some high quality flannel dude.” Josh admired as Ashley spun around in her new flannel.

As they descended in the basement, Chris started working on the electricity generator while Ashley and Josh remained on one side, a bit away from him (they just finished bantering because Josh complained about Chris’ phone addiction).

“So…how have you been since-”

“Don't worry about it Ashley. I've been doing well, tonight I just want to have a good time with you guys okay? You and Chris mean a lot to me and well… I don't mean to get between you two because I see how you look at eachother you know? But I like being with you”

“Josh…we also enjoy every minute we spend with you”

“Oh-”

“What are you guys talking about?” Chris joined the conversation back.

“What are you talking about Matt?” Emily and Matt were only supposed to get the table ready for the dinner but surprisingly the conversation turned into Matt opening up about his insecurities on his relationship with Emily.

“Matt, you are everything I could ask for. And I've never been happier since we've been together and you better understand that! You're beautiful and you're just a great guy, so don't you dare deny it! And Emily's always right, thank you very much.” Matt didn't expect such direct praises from Emily, he just jumped to hug her as she hugged him back with a surprised look. Jessica passed by the kitchen and threw a disgusted stare at Emily and Matt.

“Emily don't do that-” Emily didn't listen to Matt as she kept walking towards Jessica at a fast pace. When she got near enough, she opened her arms and gave Jessica the warmest hug she ever received.

“Emily? What-"Jessica mumbled.

“I already lost a friend last year and I won't lose another one. I won't let that happen, got it? Especially not over a stupid guy named Mike. You may be a bitch, a huge bitch…”

“Woah”

“But you're still my best friend.”

“Oh Emily” Jessica broke the hug to get a better look at her “I'm so sorry for what I did, I want to go back to how we were…”

“Jessica, I know you're sorry and that you're happy with him and I'm happy with Matt, so let's forget about this stupid feud over some stupid guy, and let's be besties again, I won't take no for an answer by the way.”

“YES” The girls started happily cheering for their friendship as Matt watched, proud of his girlfriend.

“Jesus, these board games are old.” Mike coughed because of the dust.

“Yep, they haven't used them since…”

Mike sighed “I think about that everyday”

“I know Mike, we've talked about it. And you know what I said, you're sorry, everyone is, but now it's time to move on, look at how happy Josh was when he saw us. This is how we can honor them: by celebrating the best Christmas for them.”

“You're right…”

“How are things with your father going by the way?”

“Oh you know, the same stuff as always, he acts like a douche and has those dumb expectations”

“Mh I see…”

“Let's stop talking about me. Let's talk about you, Sam. How are you doing?”

“Oh! Uh well you know, the same stuff as always. I have to take care of everyone again.”

“Yeah, you probably made me accompany you so I could talk about my problems,heh.”

“You got me there. I mean sometimes being the mom friend is tiring you know? You guys give me a lot of work. Helping Chris, Ash and Josh figure out they all have feelings for eachother is hard!”

“Oh yeah! Everyone knows it! Well, except for them. But you're right Sam, we should make an effort to get along better and you know, listen to your problems too.”

“Aw thank you. Nice talk bro!” Sam lightly punched his shoulder.

“Ouch!”

“Oops”

Everything was now ready for the perfect Christmas. The dishes were on the table. The Christmas tree was beautiful and the living room was shining with all the decorations. The lights were on and the lodge was warm. Sam and Mike had some movies and boardgames prepared for the night, and Josh's (odd) Christmas playlist was playing in the background. Matt, Mike and Sam were playing a board game, Jess and Emily were catching up and Josh,Chris and Ash were cuddling together on the couch while chatting about geeky stuff. Suddenly, the lights started flickering and finally turned off. Screams were heard (mostly from Mike). The lights turned back on, revealing a tall and pale creature standing in the living room. Our friends didn't know it, but it was a wendigo. The time stopped, it was like everyone was too stunned to speak, petrified. The wendigo opened its mouth.

“I don't want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need…”

Josh immediately recognised the beautiful singing voice.

“Hannah!?” The wendigo put a christmas hat on its head. “Yeah!”

“Where have you been!?”

“Long story short, I fell from a mountain into some mines and I ate a dead body to survive and now I look like that!” Hannah cheerfully explained.

“Hey you look just like the monster from my favorite horror movie! Cool!” The two siblings hugged.

“Wait a minute, Hannah. Where's Beth?”

“ Uh… JOSH LOOK SANTA PUT THE PRESENTS UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE!”

“NO WAY DUDE!”

Everyone ran to the tree. Each person got wonderful gifts from their loved ones. Emily got a new bag and jewelry, Jess got new clothes and makeup, Mike got an ugly Christmas sweater and he didn't know it yet but the next day Jessica would take him out to adopt a puppy together, Matt got some more material to practice sports, Chris got a new videogame, Ashley got a new book collection and Sam got some sweaters.

Josh decided that he would give up on his plan. He had the time of his life with his friends and he got his sister back. The rest of the night went wonderfully well. They danced, had a delicious dinner and played board games. Emily and Jess apologized and catched up with Hannah. They even sang together when they organized a Christmas karaoke. In the end, it was the best Christmas everyone could wish for. “Hey Hannah, have you ever played dnd?”

“Chris…” Josh sighed.

“Show me!” Hannah responded, surprising everyone.

[skzhua]

friends without desire | part 11 - a cheesecake and a date.

MASTERLIST

pairing: ex-boyfriend!han jisung x dance student!reader, brother!hwang hyunjin x sister!reader

genre: social media!AU, college!AU, exes to friends, exes to lovers.

warnings: none for now.

summary: where minho being a dumbass led to meeting him again.

Jisung played with his pencil, looking at the clock. Damn, this class was getting boring. It was not like it was interesting to start with, but it was particularly unpleasant today. It might have been because he was stressed. Maybe because he drank two coffees this morning. Or maybe because people were staring at him since he did go missing for a day. Thanks to smartass Changbin who posted about it. Whatever was the reason, he could not wait until it finished.

"Get in teams and do the five first questions." the teacher said after an endless monologue.

Jisung came back to reality and turned to Jeongin, who started to write in his notebook right away. "You know the answers already?"

"If you were listening, maybe you would too." the younger man said, not looking up from his notebook.

"I was listening."

"Uh uh, sure."

After explaining the whole chapter to Jisung, the two boys left as soon as the class ended.

"You're meeting up with Y/N again?" Jeongin asked, while they walked to his locker.

"She's not allowed to see me from what Chan told me. I'm seeing Hyunjin, though."

"It's been a while."

"Yeah." Jisung said as he bit his bottom lip in nervousness. "Is it going to be awkward, you think?"

"He might bring up the fact you cut him out of his life, but he's not the type to hold grudges. You know him." Jeongin shrugged as they started to head towards his next class.

"You're right." he laughed awkwardly. They walked in silence for a bit, until they reached the exit.

"I'll see you tomorrow night? I'm guessing you're going to the show." Jeongin said.

"I'll be there, yes."

"Alright, have fun with Hyunjin!" he waved as he continued to walk in the hallway.

"And have fun in class."

Hyunjin sat at a table in the corner of the café. He looked at his watch : 11:59am. Almost right after he looked up from his wrist, Jisung opened the door and looked around, searching for Hyunjin. As soon as he spotted him, he came to sit in front of his friend with a smile plastered on his face.

"Hyunjinnie~ It's been so long since we met like this." he cheered.

"I wonder why..." he answered, not showing as much enthusiasm as Jisung. "Now, spill it."

"Can I order first?" he laughed shyly, but stopped quickly seeing how serious Hyunjin was. "Okay, but you swear, no one has to know."

"God dammnit, Han! I told you I'll keep my mouth shut." he groaned, growing impatient.

"Okay, okay..." Jisung took the time to breathe in. "Do you remember when we got turned down by the agency?"

"Yes, obviously." Hyunjin answered, a bit confused on where this was going.

"And do you remember how your sister and I fought afterwards?"

"Yes..." he answered again.

"We told you all it was because Y/N was being a bit too much and it got on my nerves. We kind of lied to you, guys." he said, giving an apologetic look. "But the truth is, she contacted another agency to take me in without telling me. Obviously, I was furious she didn't consult me first. I still went to the audition. I was certain I was not going to make it, which is why I didn't tell anyone. Well, after Y/N and I broke up, they called me back. I went to a couple more auditions. Only recently, they told me they want me as a producer for their artists. That's what I've been doing; going to the company at night." he finishes.

Hyunjin didn't react at first. He only blinked a few times, before standing up. Jisung was convinced the guy was pissed and was about to leave, but instead, Hyunjin went to the counter and ordered an iced americano and a cheesecake. Jisung observed his friend's action, getting even more confused on why he just bought his favourite treat. When Hyunjin took his seat back, he pushed the cake to Jisung and started sipping his coffee.

"Don't stare at it, it's for you." Hyunjin pointed to the plate.

"Right, but why?"

"Like you said, it's been a while since we hung out. I just thought I could pay you some cheesecake." he shrugged. "And also, because you should be celebrating your new job instead of living a double life like an idiot."

"I saw the nagging coming." Jisung sighed, but started to dig in the cake nonetheless.

"I'm not nagging, I'm putting things logically here. You got this amazing opportunity, you took it, and you're keeping it a secret? Why didn't you tell us? If anything, I'm so happy for you."

Jisung's heart melted at the support Hyunjin gave, but he didn't understand why he wss getting worked up on the fact he hid it. "The gig was a 3racha thing. This audition was solo. I didn't want the boys to be mad I'm doing all of this by myself and didn't even mention them to the company."

"But you did mention them to the company, right?" Hyunjin said, an eyebrow raised. Jisung didn't answer. Instead, he took another bite of his cheesecake. "Right..?"

"I'm going to, eventually! I met with the other producer only three times for now. I wanted to test out the waters and she did seem a bit sus at first, but she's okay I guess."

Hyunjin facepalmed in despair. Jisung always overthought everything, so it didn't surprise him he was being extra careful in this situation. However, it didn't change the fact it was wrong of him to keep this to himself.

"You should definitely tell the others."

"There's already Seungmin who keeps bugging me with this, I don't need the both of you to do the job." Jisung pouted, but Hyunjin only glared at him once more. "I'm just scared."

"Of what? Of Chan?" Hyunjin huffed. Jisung nodded in response. "Bang Chan scares you?"

"He's the leader and the most talented among 3racha. He's the one who's supposed to be recognized for his talent. Meanwhile, I'm the youngest with no experience who doesn't even mention his teammates to his company."

"He won't get mad because you were selfish for once in your life."

"Do you even know Chan?"

"He's strict, sure. But he's like that because he thinks of others before himself. I'm convinced he'll take it well. I suggest you do mention the boys tk your company, though." Hyunjin said as he gestured Jisung's phone.

"What? Right now?"

"Why not?"

"I don't think it's the right time." Jisung mumbled only causing a grunt to escape from Hyunjin's mouth.

The older man lost no time in taking Jisung's phone, unlocking it – Jisung had always had the same password since forever – and was about to press the contact dubbed as "Side Hoe". Jisung attempted poorly to get his device back, but Hyunjin's long arms put it out of his reach.

"Jisung. Now. Or I'll actually do it myself."

Seeing that Hyunjin would not let go until he did so, Jisung gave up and finally got his phone back.

"What do I say?"

"I don't know, just greet her I guess. Who is she anyway?" Hyunjin said curiously as Jisung started typing.

"My current co-producer. She needed someone to help her out for an upcoming album."

"That's good, they have female staff."

"Yeah, and she's so young! I'd say not older than Chan. They're recruiting the young generation to be more in trend I suppose." he explained as he kept typing.

"Seems legit to me."

"Oh my god, she said yes." Jisung exclaimed before showing the messages to Hyunjin, who grinned in satisfaction.

"I told you it wouldn't be that bad. Why do you write so formely with her? You even put periods." Hyunjin laughed.

"She's my superior, technically. I need to stay professional."

Hyunjin laughed again, but stopped as he read the new message. "Are superiors allowed to ask that?"

Jisung, confused, took his phone back. As his eyes scanned each word, a weird feeling in his stomach grew. "What the fuck do I answer to that?"

[depressedhatakekakashi]

So Gai doesn't actually know Nakano is his daughter for 7 life times right? And he only learns that about her being his daughter in his last life after losing Kakashi/ his dogs, right?

Do the two try and make up for lost time afterwards? Is he apologetic for not seeing her grow up- (even though she's technically never growing up because THE SPIRIT OF YOUTH is strong with her XD), or raising her. Does he try and love on her like he loves the new twins that just showed up? Maybe have daughter daddy days while he goes to the river with games/ new books from the book shop to play with/ spend time with his daughter?

Gai just seems the type who would have loved to have been an involved father, if given half the chance, but since he can't change the past, e focuses on the present with her, treating every moment like a gift.

When he becomes a god, I imagine they have all the time in the world to make up and have fun together (here's me picturing him turing into a dragon, and either swiming up her river, or picking her up and flying off wirh her as she has fun hanging onto his hornes as he flies her wherever she wants to go).

Nakano thinks it’s funny how hard her papa is trying, because they do have memories together and a connection. He may not remember those things until he passes, but they exist

During his prince lifetime, when she was first created, she would always sneak a flower from her riverside into his pouch so when he got back to the castle he’d find it and smile. And of course her little mortal brother would rave about her whenever he saw her, and Gai and his queen were the only one’s who didn’t think their son just had an ‘overactive imagination’ though they did think it weird he refereed to the other child as his sister.

During his merchant lifetime he had to take the river to the ocean, and Nakano would always give his boat the push it needed off shore. Gai almost never had to to that part, even when the river was a but lower or he’d taken his boat onto shore for repairs. It always found its way back into the water with ease. And of course Hiroki had the river otters and Nakano to play with whenever they were sailing on the river.

Rouge gai always found the river one of the best hiding spots when he was running from castle guards. He’s not sure why, but even when they were standing right in front of him they failed to see him. Once in a while he even saw a young girl with bushy eyebrows distracting the guards so he could slip away, it actually becomes such a problem that the king decides to test his power by deciding to dog up the river to get rid of the ‘annoying goddess’. That didn’t happen of course.

Poor King got one heck of a scary visit from Nakano’s extra dad (Ibiki) for even thinking of that 🥰🥰😮‍💨

Teacher Gai would take his students to the river side once a week, good weather permitting, to learn. It was one of their favorite spots, and every once in a while the river otters would come out and sit among the students listening to gai’s stories. It would look something like a fairytale to anyone who stumbled upon the scene.

But Gai would still feel he has a lot to make up for. After all, al of those instances were Nakano reaching out to him, or protecting him. It never really got to be the other way around until Kaakshi’s mortal life when Gai would visit the river and bring some of Nakano’s favorite foods because he saw the water slowly receding and wanted to do something to help the goddess gain her strength back. It didn’t do much, but it always managed to bring a smile to Nakano’s face.

[squidsquadlove]

Holy fuck this is incredible work, giving a narrative of the top four from the 2015 draft class (Connor McDavid, Jack Eichel, Dylan Strome, Mitch Marner) and what happened in the eight years after.

It also REALLY shows off why Connor and Jack are two of my current primary blorbos. Speaking of which, I have got to get more on the page for the November project...

---

I haven't gone to see if there's a postscript based on the happenings of the 2023 Stanley Cup Finals and the offseason, but what a head rush thinking of how things stood as this post ends.

The Leafs had just had their postseason breakup with Kyle Dubas, who would be hired as President of Hockey Operations for Pittsburgh within a week or two, bringing his assistant, Jason Spezza (remember him from the story about Mike Babcock earlier?), with him. The Leafs would then hire Brad Treliving to replace Dubas. Treliving had just left the Flames in what most saw as a conflict with their head coach at the time, Daryl Sutter, whose position as a locker room cancer deserves its own narrative post. Treliving's philosophy for how to improve the Leafs is currently playing out with dismal results, if not in the standings then certainly in the interpersonal "grit" so many Leafs uncles (as in "your uncle who's a Leaf fan") hoped to see.

Jack Eichel went on to win the Cup, but he did more than that in the final round. Going up against the Cinderella story that was the Florida Panthers, a team that only squeaked into the playoffs at all through a single game (lost by Pittsburgh, won by Chicago) that had monumental results for all three teams, Eichel and the Knights continued their rough, physical playstyle, and when Matthew Tkachuk laid an open-ice hit on Eichel that coincided with a toe pick that sent Eichel dropping downward toward Tkachuk's shoulder, Eichel's entire medical team as well as his agent looked on in horror as the hit took Eichel down so hard that he lost his helmet in the fall. Eichel got up, cursing vividly, and rushed off the ice -- one is required to do so if the helmet can't be immediately re-secured -- as well as rushing down the tunnel. It was the kind of hit that made any number of people wonder if Eichel's neck surgery would hold.

Eichel was back on the ice almost immediately. He'd only had the wind knocked out of him. The surgery had held, and Eichel was still healthy, still playing well, still able to compete at the top of his game. He is still receiving texts from other hockey players who are grateful to him for paving the way for others to get artificial disk replacement instead of fusion surgery, a choice that may improve quality of life for players for the rest of their lives, not just their hockey careers. For a non-negligible number of patients, fusion surgery is more properly described as a first fusion surgery: a substantial fraction of people need a second, and even a third, surgery afterwards, in order to retain movement and freedom from nerve pain. The number of patients who need additional surgery after artificial disk replacement is much smaller.

Connor spent nearly the entire summer with best friend Leon Draisaitl, who spent a few weeks in Europe before returning to train with Connor's Toronto trainer and attend Biosteel Camp with him. The two of them mentored Connor Bedard together at Biosteel Camp, and then went on to have a highly successful preseason together-- their highly-paid, sensitive, prone to crises of confidence (that lead to crises on the ice) backup goalie looked like he was going to have a bounce-back year. And then the regular season started, and about all that's going well for the Oilers is that Connor and Leon are still absurdly talented (when Connor's not playing injured; he was out for a week or so with an upper-body injury about which we know nothing).

Mitch's wedding was indeed one of the highlights of the summer; in fact, Mitch was also a star guest at various other weddings over the summer. He's having a slow start to the season, and is still being talked about as if he's the best trade target of the Leafs' "core four" (Mitch, Auston, Tavares, and Nylander, who has yet to sign a contract for next year)-- but good luck with that now that his no-trade clause has kicked in.

It's also possible that Mitch feasted on a little schadenfreude over the summer, because before the season started, Mike Babcock-- attempting to make a return to the NHL after his Leafs contract finally expired-- lost his job before training camp could even get started. (Another turn of events that deserves its own post.)

Dylan Strome is still proving valuable to the Washington Capitals. Niklas Backstrom is stepping away from the team as he questions what his future's going to look like; it seems like his hip hasn't really come back fully from the surgery. Strome is now centering Ovi's line, with Backstrom gone for the foreseeable future. If Ovechkin is going to break Gretzky's goal record-- and for the first time, it's starting to seem like an "if" and not a "when"-- it might very well be with a Strome assist.

would you actually be willing to give like a pretty long rundown of those main guys from the 2015 draft class?? because i would be Very interested

Of course! I wrote this in a Google doc so I could get it all down. It's a LOT btw -- this is the abridged version, leaving out what are probably important details, and it's still [checks] 11k words long. Sorry about that.

Anyone who tells you that the draft is a science is an idiot not worth their twenty-dollar stadium beer. The draft has analytical elements, sure, but it is a crapshoot through and through. If you dare to take a look back on draft histories from the past ten years -- the past twenty, the past thirty -- only rarely is the first pick, the “best in show,” actually the best of his class. I mean, no wonder, right? How well can you determine how good a man is going to be at hockey when you have only seen him as a teenager? Accuracy and prophecy are not kin.

Every ten years, though, you come across someone whose trajectory is easy to map. A prospect who is so head and shoulders above everyone else -- in numbers, in the eye test -- that you cannot help but say that they are going to be The Next One. God save the poor boy you put that name on.

In this case, it is 2014, and they are speaking those words again. On the dingy ice of an OHL arena, a red-haired Toronto boy with scared fawn’s eyes paces around the circles, faster than anyone else in the building. There are articles written about him already, calling his experience the torture test and labelling him Jesus, the saviour, the new great. It will get worse for him from here.

A Generational Prospect

It is 2004, and all eyes are on Sidney Crosby. He has eclipsed QMJHL scoring records. He performs highlight-reel antics. It is known that he will make the NHL as a teenager, and that whichever team has him will have an asset they should not ever think to relinquish.

Now, in 2023, all expectations of him are blown away. He is fifteenth on the all-time scoring list, having played most of his life in the dead-puck era, and will be inside the top ten by the time he retires. He has never been below a point per game, having gotten to a hundred points as an eighteen-year-old rookie and only slowed down to ninety at thirty-five. He has won three Cups; two Harts; two each Art Ross and Rocket Richard.

Something similar can be said for his contemporary, one Alex Ovechkin, sixteenth in all-time scoring, second ever in goals. While neither were always the most singular, dominant player of the past eighteen years (has it really been that long?) their longevity and consistent high-level play have cemented them into that tier of all-time greats. 

Such players only emerge once (or, for them, twice) in a generation; a “generational talent.” Gordie Howe was the first, before drafting happened at all, then Gretzky, joined as a part of the WHA merger, then Lemieux, then, debatably, Jagr through the early half of the dead-puck era, then Crosby and Ovechkin. Jagr was drafted fifth overall partly due to political constraints (it was 1990, and Czechia was behind the Iron Curtain), but all of the other drafted ones went first. While development curves for everyone else are hard to map, it is easy to tell, for them, how good they are as youths. We all call Gretzky the “Great One,” but he actually got that nickname before he was a teenager, because of how much better than the rest of his peers he was.

This is how we go up to the 2015 draft. Let’s say that it is September 2014, a full hockey season before the draft, so we can set the scene. Go back to the dingy Erie rink, watch the red-haired boy speed around the ice.

This is Connor McDavid. He was born in January just outside Toronto; if you are unfamiliar with the term “GTA,” I will pause now to tell you that it means Greater Toronto Area, and that it is the nexus of all hockey in the world. He is a Leafs fan, as so many of the GTA hockey-playing hopefuls are. 

Connor is an unusual child, even by young hockey prospect standards. Entry to any of the CHL major junior leagues -- the OHL, the WHL, the QMJHL -- starts at sixteen, but select few can apply early, and if they are academically, physically, and emotionally deemed adept they can be accepted for exceptional status and join at fifteen. This happens once every two or three years nowadays; Tavares and Ekblad were the only ones to predate McDavid. As well as being deemed exceptional by the board of the CHL, he is exceptional among peers, too: intelligent and analytical, black-and-white, painfully shy. He works hard in school, desperate to avoid coming off as a “dumb jock.” Media interviewers ask for him, but they have to change the settings on their microphones in order to pick up his voice, it is so soft. 

He has already won trophies; scholastic achievement, sportsmanlike behaviour, CHL rookie of the year. He will score at least one point in all but one of the first eighteen games of the 2014-15 OHL season, before breaking his hand in a fight (getting himself a Gordie Howe hatty, being that he already has a goal and an assist). He will score a hundred points in thirty-eight games, and a hundred and twenty points in the forty-seven games he will play.

Understandably, his name is penned in at number one on the draft board. Even such deficits as breaking a hand and being out for six weeks don’t tank his stock, it is so obvious how well on track he is to outpace all but the best.

He is sweet and shy, a captain of Erie based mostly on skill, and tight-laced into the destiny of future franchise saviour.

At least he has a friend, though, right?

Dylan

The 2014-15 Erie Otters are a good team. A great one, even -- third in league standings by season’s end, and you don’t get that far if your single generational superstar is sidelined half the year with a hand injury.

This is where Dylan comes in. Like Connor, he’s a GTA boy, and a young Leafs fan. Unlike Connor, he’s part of a serious hockey family -- the middle child of three. His older brother Ryan has already been drafted, in the first round, no less. He’s a real student of the game, too, a stats obsessive and a calm, steadfast personality. 

Remember how we said the draft is a crapshoot? That’s very true. Prospects may have precise rankings when all is said and done, but in the meantime I find it best thinking of them as instead arranging into tiers -- there’s the generational talent in this year, but disregarding him we have a first overall-level, then a small handful of top prospects. Not saviours in their entirety, but certain to make a team very happy. Dylan projects as the latter group -- he’ll be somewhere between three and five. In 2014-15, he’s the OHL scoring leader, and takes the Erie Otters’ single-season record.

He and Connor are also best friends. Connor’s quiet, anxious even, but Dylan has a coolheaded sort of confidence that brings out the best in him. Rarely are they pictured without each other; rarely are they spoken to without mentioning the other. There’s a sweet little video out there of the Otters going to New York state and going on this little ziplining/outdoor climbing gym, and Connor and Dylan are about as glued to each other’s sides as you can be while obeying the harness safety rules. In hockey terms, while a little young for it, they’re married. Much like Crosby and Malkin are, although over a much shorter term, and publically the two Otters are much closer.

Dylan is the one I feel as if I can talk the least about. He is mostly defined by what he is not: not Connor, to start, and before the actual draft takes place that is the most of it. 

Of course, that’s the most of what any of it is, isn’t it? These are teenagers, separated into imprecise tiers and mostly defined by which tier they slot into. The three boys below Connor, no matter how good they are, are defined by being not Connor.

Jack Eichel most of all.

Jack, to start, is American, unlike any of the other three. He’s a late birthday -- born in November of 1996 instead of  the first eight and a half months of 1997 -- so he’s, in theory, had another year to adapt. (Brief footnote: the September 15 cutoff is what determines draft eligibility, either the year you turn eighteen or the year you turn nineteen. If you were born in, say, June of 2000, you would be eligible for the draft in 2018. If you had the audacity to be born in October of 2000 instead, you’d have to wait until 2019.) His development pipeline is also unlike the others, having come up into the NCAA, college hockey, and playing at the US National Development team before committing to Boston University. He won the Hobey Baker award as a freshman, and led the NCAA in scoring as a rookie.

He was marketed, coming into the draft, as the American Connor -- the new face of American hockey, a homegrown star, a fellow generational talent, although that was a feeble marketing strategy to dull the disappointment of going second to greatness. He was proud and polite, quiet but not scared, a young man uncomfortably aware of his own myth and rather irritated at the fact he had a myth in the first place. Taken in and treated well, he would probably have a well-suited disposition to a high-stress, playoff-bound team.

It’s unfortunate that that wouldn’t realize until eight years after he was drafted.

The Draft Itself, or, What Caused All These Problems In The First Place

The draft lottery rolls around. The lottery and the draft take place on different days -- the lottery several weeks before, so that for a long time the boys have an idea of to whom they will go. The first four teams to pick are, in order:

Edmonton. Edmonton had been very bad, for a very long time, and had three shiny prizes already to show for it: Taylor Hall, drafted first overall in 2010; Nail Yakupov, drafted first overall in 2012; and Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, drafted first overall in 2013. I’m sure you already know this, but Edmonton was Gretzky’s team, while Gretzky won all his cups, and they now stand to get themselves another generational talent in Connor McDavid.

Buffalo. The Sabres have a few decent pieces: Ryan O’Reilly, Sam Reinhart. They haven’t made the playoffs in a few years, and have plummeted to the bottom of the standings, finishing thirtieth out of thirty.

Arizona. Arizona has never gotten off the ground, not once. They are a dust mote of a franchise, held in place by Gary Bettman’s fragile ego and the skimmings of Original Six markets. Their survival, as doomed as we know it is, is banking on a distant hope of good prospect luck and better PDO.

Toronto. While Arizona is the smallest of small markets, Toronto is… well, it’s Toronto. Remember earlier, how I said that the GTA is the nexus of hockey? Toronto is called the Centre of the Universe, and for good goddamn reason. The Leafs are one of the most storied franchises in the NHL, and simultaneously one of the winningest (the second-most Stanley Cups, after Montreal) and the losingest (their most recent Cup was almost sixty years ago.) Their fanbase dwarfs all but the most hardcore of French Canadian separatist contingents. There’s a common phrase now, when any hockey news is mentioned -- but how does this affect the Leafs? It’s well-done satire.

And with four teams, we have four boys. So I come upon the last one now: Mitch Marner. Mitch, like Dylan and Connor, is a GTA boy, a born and raised Leafs fan on an OHL team. He plays for the London Knights -- a diminutive forward (he weighs in at 160 pounds soaking wet at eighteen, and eight years later barely cracks 180) with fantastic playmaking skills, the creativity and gall to do things other players have never even thought of. He’s a sweet one, too, bubbly and energetic and cuddly and kind.

Here is how the draft goes:

The Oilers take the stage first, for the fourth time in six years. The ceremony is unnecessary. Connor McDavid is the name everyone knows they will say. Connor walks up to the stage, looking vaguely nauseous, and dons the jersey and the hat. (His facial expression in the interviews afterward is thoroughly dissected over the next eight years. Some say it’s simple stage fright; others say it’s personal distaste for the Oilers -- remember, Toronto boy, Toronto heart. I choose to believe it’s the first one. Not all of us are John Tavares.)

After a first-round prospect is chosen, they bring him down for an interview, then shuffle him off to some arena underbelly for photos upon photos. Connor performs his niceties, but before he is taken back, he asks to stay. He wants to watch Dylan get drafted.

The Buffalo Sabres come second, and pick Jack Eichel. Eichel is asked, throughout, how he feels about Connor, being behind Connor, coming second to Connor. The narrative being pushed is called McEichel -- the Canadian wunderkind versus the American one -- and he wants no part in it. He’s impressed by Connor’s play, in their few brief meetings he thinks of him as nice enough, he wants to carve out his own path.

This refusal to play along may have been the start of the discontent, in hindsight. The media clearly wasn’t going to get anything out of soft-voiced scared-eyed perfect Canadian boy Connor, but Jack, sharper edges and colder heart, might be good for a soundbite or two about this new league-made rivalry. Jack, though, ever aware, puts himself solidly into Generic Hockey Interview voice and backs off.

The Coyotes come third. Here is where a choice occurs, the first genuine decision. Connor McDavid had been slotted into first pick since the day he got accepted for exceptional status. Eichel had taken a few years more, but his place in second after Connor was well known for months on end. Dylan and Mitch, however, were up in the air. Do you pick the big one with more points, or the small one with star power?

The Coyotes follow the conventional hockey wisdom, and take the big boy. Connor waits to watch his friend take the jersey, then hugs him in the wings.

Finally, the Leafs.

Let’s actually take a step back to talk about the Leafs rebuild, for a second, because it, like everything the Leafs have ever done, is a testament to failure. Also, somewhat, because it is relevant. Also, moreso, because I can’t shut up about hockey and you’ve asked me to talk as long as I like. If you’re still reading, I want you to know that a) I am ever thankful for your time and b) we’re, like, just getting started here.

The Leafs’ last contending era was before the 04-05 lockout season, which means it predates the salary cap. They struggled in the midsection, for a long time, then finally fell enough to gain the fifth overall pick in 2008, with which they selected a big tough young defenceman named Luke Schenn, the first official piece of the Leafs’ rebuild, strange as it may be. Luke, while competent enough, was obviously not the sort of franchise-changing star the Leafs needed, and they struggled in the midsection again, before gaining, once more, the fifth overall pick, with which they selected Schenn’s partner, one Morgan Rielly. The two would be perfect partners, but we won’t know this for eleven years. Luke was traded twelve hours after Rielly’s draft.

Rielly is still in the AHL the next year, 2013, when the Leafs make the playoffs. This is the infamous 4-1 series: the Leafs go down 3-1 in the series, claw their way back up to game seven. They gain a 4-1 lead, going into the third period, and then blow it completely and lose the game, and the series, in overtime. They do not make the playoffs in 2013-14, and before the 2014-15 season begins they change management. The man they install as President decides to tank, and tank hard, selling as much of the Leafs as he can in the hopes of landing that elusive first pick.

They end up with fourth overall, and Mike Babcock, the Leafs’ head coach, does not want Mitch Marner, instead asking the then-management for the bigger defenceman, a boy named Hanifin who will go fifth to the Hurricanes. The Leafs take Marner anyway. Watch him as his name is called. He, like the first three, sits in a nest of other prospects and their families -- Mitch actually sits right behind Jack Eichel -- but unlike them, when his name is called the other prospects lean over to offer him congratulations, as well as his parents and brother. Mat Barzal, from across the aisle, offers a bro-hug as Mitch goes by.

The rest of the draft goes as usual. The 2015 draft, beyond narratively, is one of the deepest drafts in recent memory; players you may recognize include Timo Meier, Mikko Rantanen, Travis Konecny, Sebastian Aho (the Carolina one!), Roope Hintz, Kirill Kaprizov, Troy Terry… the list goes on. These players have their own stories, but few really tie in to this one. (So far.)

Summer passes; we move on. Training camp rolls around.

Connor McDavid, as expected, makes the team. He moves in with Taylor Hall, a fellow first overall. Jack Eichel also makes the team.

Dylan and Mitch do not. Dylan’s reasons are unknown to me, but Mitch is sent down because, again, Babcock does not want him. He’s naturally undersized and does not have a frame that builds muscle; Babcock is not under the impression that young men in Mitch’s image make good hockey players. Both Mitch and Dylan are returned to the OHL.

The stage is set now; each boy has a team. Eight years on, only half of them are on those teams. But we can’t worry about that yet! We have to make it to the NHL first!

World Juniors and the Memorial Cup

Once Connor makes the Oilers, Dylan Strome is named captain of the Erie Otters. Very cool, to only get what you deserve after the golden boy is gone.

Jack and Connor are off playing with the big boys. They’ll get their own section later -- we have to work our way up, not up and down and up and down. I’ve got to be somewhat cohesive, you know? So, we’ll stay, for now, in the world of junior hockey.

The Otters and the London Knights, Mitch’s team, are in the wonderful circumstance of not only both being very good at the same time, but also being in the same division as one another. This means they see each other quite often (no plane travel in the OHL. Bus only.) and have thus formed… a bit of a rivalry. It is becoming difficult to dance around: Dylan Strome, despite the politeness they’ve shown each other at the draft, hates Mitch Marner.

And why wouldn’t you? He’s the one Dylan fought with all last season for the OHL scoring title; he’s fast on his feet and can shoot from impossible angles; he makes plays you’ve never even considered, much less considered possible. He dangles through the Otters and scores the easiest impossible goal you’ve ever seen and laughs as light as air about the whole thing. And he’s tiny. Unfortunately for the rest of us, Marner drew a lot of comparisons to Patrick Kane in his junior days -- thankfully without the character in common, but as a hockey player. An undersized (almost comically so) London winger with otherworldly ability to manifest scoring chances out of nothing. The exact sort of irritating worm that not one of us wants on the other team.

So, of course, they get put on the same team.

The 2016 World Juniors are summoned. Connor McDavid, then dealing with a broken collarbone and a great deal of pressure, is not on Team Canada’s roster. Dylan Strome and Mitch Marner both are. Suddenly and thankfully, the media’s focus shifts from one, false rivalry in McEichel to a very very real one.

I don’t want to dismiss what happens next as a mere symptom of the fact that hockey players are engineered to get along with their teammates, even if they don’t like each other. Admittedly, it does start that way -- Mitch is a winger and Dylan a centre, and both skilled, so the coach puts them on the same line. Simple enough. And then they spark up a friendship.

Dylan’s reasons for hating Mitch were not personal, just hockey-related. Dylan hated Mitch because he was good and he knew it, the simple way a teenager hates their direct competitor. On the same team, though, the competition aspect is removed, and the barrier for hatred is gone. This is the Dylan/Mitch enemies to lovers arc, if you want to put it that way.

Mitch, for the record, I doubt ever hated Dylan. He doesn’t have that in him, never had. He saw a rival, sure, and as soon as that rival wore a matching jersey I assume he taped the word friend over whatever defined their relationship before. Mitch is probably one of the most gregarious, friendly, charming hockey players out there. Beyond his cute little face and on-ice highlights, even. He’s loud, sure, but when he talks he knows how to include you. He finds out what you like and talks about it, he singles you out if you’re shy and builds up your confidence. He’s just plain nice.

Dylan, like the rest of us, was charmed. Within weeks he went from calling Mitch annoying to telling us all about how he loves cuddling (!?) with him. They became fast friends and great linemates.

Dylan’s not the only one Mitch Marner befriends at Worlds, though. Somewhere between matches, Mitch takes an elevator at the complex they’re staying at, and ends up sharing it with a boy from the American team, a tall square-jawed Mexican centre with a Justin Bieber obsession. This is Auston Matthews, one of the projected top picks of the 2016 draft -- born just two days after the cutoff that would have made him eligible to go in 2015. He played with Jack Eichel at the USNTDP, before taking his age-eighteen year to go play pro in Switzerland. He holds the NTDP scoring record as a seventeen-year-old, and will continue to hold it until Jack Hughes breaks onto the scene. The two boys in the elevator do not yet know it, but they are about to share the mantle of franchise saviour, for the franchise most desperately in need of saving.

Either way. The Canadians place sixth at World Juniors, the Americans do better, the Finns win the whole thing. (In the long run, Laine turns out not to be better than Matthews after all.) Mitch and Dylan go back to their OHL teams.

Erie and London tie in points that year, but London wins the OHL title and goes to Alberta for the Memorial Cup, the CHL trophy. Mitch Marner takes home the scoring title, the Stafford Smythe (CHL equivalent of the Conn Smythe), and the Memorial Cup itself. He is one of the most decorated winners in OHL history, touted as being clutch, creating magic, and racking up points. He has close friends in Dylan Strome and fellow Knight Matthew Tkachuk, who will be selected sixth overall in the 2016 draft, the second American after Auston Matthews himself. And when NHL training camp rolls around in the fall, even Babcock cannot deny he is ready, no matter how slight he may still be.

Connor Complex

There’s nothing that fuels story like a good rivalry, and the NHL was obsessed with marketing this rivalry. The Canadian versus the American. The perfect child of a long line of red-blooded southern Ontario tradition versus the Boston boy with a chip on his shoulder. Jack and Connor, Connor and Jack. They hyped Jack up the time leading up to the draft, trying to hint that he was almost as good -- no, just as good -- as McDavid himself.

He was not, and everyone knew.

The 2014-15 Sabres, then the worst team in the NHL and having done an elite job at tanking (they are one of the worst teams in the analytics era, besides the 2022-23 Anaheim Ducks -- I wonder what prize might be waiting at that number one spot? Surely not someone named Connor.) wanted McDavid. The Pegulas, the owners of the Sabres, tried to hide their disappointment in him as pride. They had an all-American star, they said, someone who had grown up not too far from Buffalo himself, and in the same country, no less. He would be the sort of man to lead them into a new golden age, away from the misery of the tank years.

And yet the narrative persisted. McEichel, they whispered. Look at how good Connor McDavid is, and look at how much Eichel is not him. McDavid, they say, McDavid McDavid McDavid. No article could be written about Jack without mentioning how he came second to Connor.

The Sabres tried to quell the whispers. Look at our boy, they say. They signed Eichel to an eight-year, ten million dollar contract, and in the beginning of the 2018-19 season they named him captain. Isn’t our boy great.

The team does not improve. The Sabres hadn’t made the playoffs for three years when they drafted Eichel; they still haven’t made the playoffs today. I wasn’t around to look, but the team was bad. Eichel did his best, but he was young and inexperienced and did not -- never did -- have captain’s blood in him; Ryan O’Reilly lost his love for the game.

The whispers of character issues start to come out. Jack Eichel is a “locker room cancer;” he’s selfish, stuck-up, quick-tempered. He’s caught in a cage where the only key is to be Connor, something which he never wanted to achieve in the first place, and never could have even if he did want it. The whole narrative was completely fabricated. He liked Connor well enough when they met.

I do imagine he has feelings about it, though, and feelings about Connor now. He didn’t know him, not enough to have an opinion on the boy, but the name followed him around long enough for him to think about it. Imagine it. You’re good in your field, great, even. You’re doing well enough to earn yourself a superstar contract, you’re an All-Star, and yet the only way you will get any recognition at all is when they say that you are worse than one of the greatest players ever to play the game. They lock you into a connection that you have never wanted, barring you from forging your own path. You exist permanently in that orange-and-blue shadow. I don’t blame Jack for being angry. I would be too.

Babcock

Auston Matthews was incredible from the jump. He was big, he was strong, his wrister is the stuff of legend. He won the Calder in his and Mitch’s rookie year, by a not insignificant margin, well ahead of Laine. He was a coach’s dream doll, unusual enough to be marketed and good enough to be useful. Unavoidably masculine even at nineteen.

Mitch less so. Mitch is still small, remember, and struggles to gain weight. I know I talk about his size a lot, but it’s genuinely important. Hockey and its fan culture has long been a group that prioritized size and raw power above all things. Mitch possessed neither of those things, and when he struggled with gaining muscle it was seen as an unwillingness to try. If you know anything about the ability of our bodies to gain or lose weight, you know that it is simply a genetic roll of the dice, a scale that puts a little bit of us into the “gains muscle mass easily” category and decides when to stop. Most hockey players actually aren’t very far up the muscle-gaining spectrum, especially when compared to American football or baseball players -- mass is strength, yes, but it’s also more to move around on ice -- but Mitch is especially low on the scale. Because of this, he is seen as unmanly, a dangerous thing to be.

The Leafs media market is a nightmare, and always has been. Because this is the Centre of the Universe, there are more eyes on the Leafs than on any other team. More eyes mean more writers, means you have to say weirder and wilder things to beg for clicks. Outrage is a good marketing tactic. Getting mad about one of the prize prospects seemingly not wanting to bulk up for the good of the team is a very easy thing to do.

What’s more, Mitch, after his entry-level contract had expired, had had a very difficult and long-drawn out contract negotiation, asking for a lot of money -- essentially the maximum that the Leafs could afford at the time. Because of the salary cap constraint, this was seen as kind of selfish. The angry clicks move. Mitch is sensitive, they say. Soft, selfish, weak.

It’s easy enough to dismiss out of hand when your uncle from Belleville does it, because what does he know. It’s different when it’s the head coach of the Leafs. Mike Babcock, is, at the time of hiring, the highest-paid coach in the NHL. He was signed before the 2015-16 season, and at that point had an eight-year contract, which would have carried him up until this year.

Mike Babcock sucked. Structurally, his teams were fine -- the Leafs made the playoffs in 2016-17, and haven’t missed it since, but he was awful, horribly mean to the boys under him, and especially, especially Mitch. 

We should skip ahead a little bit. It’s the beginning of the 2019-20 season. The Leafs have made the playoffs three times already, and lost in the first round each time -- but this, too, is not yet a phrase that strikes worry into our hearts. They’re young, and they have plenty of time left. 

Respected veteran Jason Spezza came home to the Leafs, having spent his career -- a player who might squeak the Hall of Fame, but is more likely just below its level -- in first Ottawa, where he was the captain of the Senators briefly and one of its most well-loved players, and then Dallas. Like the boys I talk about here, Jason Spezza is a former OHL player, a GTA boy, a Leafs fan. The Leafs’ season opener is against Ottawa, the team where Jason Spezza left most of his mark. There used to be a promotion with the Senators -- a local branch of some pizza chain would offer a free slice if the Sens scored more than five goals in a game. Spezza (and his linemates, Heatley and Alfredsson) were so good, they named his line the Pizza line. Mike Babcock makes Jason Spezza a healthy scratch on that day.

This is seen as disrespectful, but no more than a coach living up to his hardass reputation. You do what the coach tells you, don’t you? Lest you become a whiner, or worse, a locker room cancer. Scratching an extremely well-respected veteran on the opener against his former team is just something some guys do. A message, if you will. Stay the course, Babcock just wants his players to respect him.

And then news of the list leaks.

It happened when Mitch was a rookie, but they kept it hidden for three years. The Leafs went on a father-and-sons trip, one they do every season. They’re on a road trip, with only their fathers, isolated from their home.

(A brief aside to talk about Mitch’s dad; his name is Paul Marner, and he is the most stereotypical hardass hockey dad on the planet. A nitpicker, an armchair coach, a bully. I do not imagine Mitch felt particularly comforted by his and Babcock’s combined presence on this trip.)

Babcock approached Mitch and asked him to organize all of his teammates in a list. He wanted Mitch to arrange them in order of hardest workers to laziest; he thought Mitch was one of the lazy ones, and wanted to drive this point home by making him categorize his teammates like this. Mitch, as a rookie hockey player does in the presence of the Maple Leaf hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, obliged. He was under the impression it would be a private affair, just an assignment from Babcock to teach him some sort of lesson. Whether it be out of fear or honesty, he placed himself last on the list. 

Babcock told the others.

Specifically, two Leafs vets that Mitch had placed low on the list -- Nazem Kadri and Tyler Bozak. Imagine this: you are a decent centre on a bubble team, but nonetheless an established NHL veteran of about a decade, and your coach shows you a list a rookie made. He tells you that the rookie arranged everyone by work ethic, grinders to lazy shits. You are firmly on the “lazy shit” end.

How much does the coach have to suck, or how much does the rookie have to be loved, for Kadri and Bozak to react like they did? The rumour says they called for Babcock’s head on the spot. Mitch was in tears. I wouldn’t want to stay in Toronto if that happened to me. No wonder he and Auston signed for so much -- Babcock was barely halfway through his contract when they did. If I’d thought that I would have to deal with him for that long, I wouldn’t accept anything less than as much as they could possibly pay me.

In the end, in the beginning of December, 2019, Mitch got hurt and the Leafs went on a road trip. They were already losing by the time they’d left, and they kept losing. Normally, a team on a road trip doesn’t take the hurt players with them, but they took Mitch. The Leafs lost six in a row and finally fired Babcock, letting Sheldon Keefe take his place. Mitch’s presence was a comfort.

Go West

The Leafs make the playoffs first, and take Mitch with them. The Sabres are fighting a silent war with their star centre, but they are no closer to success. 

Connor McDavid is named captain at nineteen, the youngest in the history of the NHL. He scrapes the team to a playoff spot, then to a second round loss. He wins the Art Ross and the Hart.

The year before his entry-level contract expires, when he is first eligible, he signs what is then the most expensive per-year contract in NHL history -- eight years, a hundred million dollars. He is looking forward to spending the rest of his prime as an Oiler. He wins the Art Ross the next year, comes very close the year after. The Oilers do not make the playoffs again until after Covid hits.

He gets hurt a lot, too -- he breaks his collarbone as a rookie, missing half the season, and at the very end of the 2018-19 year, crashes into the net irons and shatters his knee. There are rumours of the man who broke Connor’s collarbone doing it on purpose; Connor claims that he overheard the man bragging about it, and I am inclined to believe him. This guy gets traded to the Oilers not too long after that.

In the meantime, Dylan is struggling. The Coyotes stick him in Tucson, a team he is obviously too good for. His entry-level contract slides another season. He wiffles between Tucson and Arizona, not being considered good enough to stay up but being too good to stay down. In the end, on the last year of his entry-level contract, he is traded from the Coyotes to the Chicago Blackhawks, a similarly bad team with a few remnants of its Cup-winning days. Dylan, a feeble icon of Chicagoan hope for one last dance with the aging core, centres Patrick Kane.

In his first half-season with the Blackhawks, he scores 51 points in 58 games. There are hopeful flashes of what he can be, the touted prospect he once was. 

Things wrap up on New Years like this: Connor is beyond a hundred-point pace; Dylan, although in no less danger, is at least out of the dust at the bottom of the barrel; Jack is caught in a cold war; the team loves Mitch. 

John Tavares has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Playoff Series

March of 2020 rolls around, and with it the coronavirus pandemic. The league is shut down before the season ends, and the playoffs re-formed in July, inside a bubble -- no one in, no one out until they are eliminated. The Sabres stay with their families, having once again missed the playoffs. The Leafs are set to play the Columbus Blue Jackets, and the Oilers are set to play the Blackhawks.

This, to date, is Dylan’s only playoff appearance, and he is set to face Connor.

Dylan wins.

The qualifying round -- functioning as the first round of the bubble playoffs -- is a best of five, not of seven, and the Blackhawks defeat the Oilers 3-1. They then proceed to lose in five games (this one is a best of seven) to Vegas, but Dylan’s job is done.

The Leafs lose in the first round again. The Leafs have made the playoffs since Auston and Mitch’s debut, every single year, but they lose each time; in six, to the Capitals, then in seven every year after that. Or, in this case, in five.

Covid had not stopped by the end of the 2020 season ( :/ ) and the NHL was rearranged for what would be ostensibly the 2020-2021 season, but ended up being played mostly in 2021. Because of border laws, the Canadian teams are sequestered into their own, North division. Dylan Strome signs a two-year contract extension with Chicago right before the season starts -- one that will carry him until the end of the 2021-2022 season. 

If you’ve seen All or Nothing on Amazon Prime, it is this season that is covered. The Leafs tear through what is seen as a weaker North division, taking a comfortable first place spot. Connor McDavid cracks a hundred points in fifty-six games. Both Leafs and Oilers lose in the first round.

The Leafs do it perhaps most remarkably. They have drawn the Canadiens, a rather insubstantial team who are in their spot mostly because they have one of the best goaltenders in recent memory at their back.

I watched this game, live, before I was a serious Leafs fan. I can only imagine what it would be like if you were already invested at that point; I would not wish to live that horror on anyone. I tried to watch All or Nothing, later, but I stop here. 

Corey Perry and John Tavares are both on the ice, in the race for the puck. Tavares catches an edge, as you sometimes do, and falls, and Perry’s knee is in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time, and it catches Tavares in the side of the head. He falls to the ice, his limbs splaying unnaturally. He won’t move. 

Medics come over, to try and raise him to his feet. He fights against them, blood streaming from a cut in his forehead, unable to tell if they are trying to hurt him or not. There is no one in the crowd, the stadium empty for the pandemic. The camera cuts to Kyle Dubas in the rafters, who has a phone in his hand and swiftly vanishes back into the halls of the arena. He is calling Tavares’ wife. We do not know what is going to happen. Everyone looks shaken -- the Habs have just watched a man nearly die, the Leafs have just lost their captain, perhaps forever. They lose, although the game feels like an afterthought. I do not want to watch hockey anymore.

They win the next three straight, though, even without him. Then they lose, twice, in overtime.

The Leafs, as they have done for the past four years up to this point, go to game seven.

Partway through the game, Mitch Marner panics in his defensive zone and puts the puck over the glass. This is a penalty, it is a penalty every time, and he knows that. He sits in the box, looking defeated already. He curls in on himself, and the camera flashes to the penalty box. He’s crying. He knows the game is lost.

The Leafs are eliminated again, and there is a target on his back now, not only for the puck going over the glass but for the tears. He’s soft, they say. As they have said since he was picked, because he doesn’t look like a hockey player should, because he doesn’t act like a hockey player should, because he doesn’t play hockey like a hockey player should. He makes too much and he disappears when it matters.

Thoughts on the Leafs’ playoff successes suddenly switch from the core is young, even if this is frustrating to they need to win before it’s too late. Already, in recent years, they have suffered historic game-seven chokes and drastic failures to launch. Whether they do it against teams like the President’s Trophy-winning Capitals or the barely-alive wild-card Canadiens is irrelevant. They cannot win a round, at all. The Leafs are already the team with the greatest Cup drought, and they are now gaining a long playoff round victory drought too. It should be time, at least, for them to look like they are a contender. 

This is how the Leafs find themself stuck; a particularly frustrating timeloop, even though hockey itself is nothing but. Sports are cyclical by nature. A team is bad, then okay, then good, then declining, then bad again, and this repeats anew. Some teams try to get themselves out of this cycle by being good forever; I can assure you that this only really happens to the New York Yankees, who employ a cadre of evil wizards to keep everything on that hell team going well for them. Most other teams who try end up stuck like the Canucks are, right now: bad enough to miss the playoffs, but not good enough to get key picks for a rebuild. I can see next season play out, clear as day: they struggle out of the gate, one of their stars gets hurt right when it seems like they’re at the very, very start of gathering momentum, they’re bottom-10 by January and the team says everyone but Pettersson are on the table, they trade picks and low-grade players, they get blazing hot post-deadline and finish twenty-first.

There is, unfortunately, also a perception that pure talent is not what makes players playoff performers -- instead, some so-called “clutch gene” that exists, or not. The reality is somewhere in between. Clutch exists. There are always players who can score when no one else can even dream of it, but a greater problem is luck. President’s Trophy winners are not often Cup winners (even if higher seeds are most likely to win), because the regular season is a much, much bigger sample size and the playoffs can change the course of all of it by a goalie having a hot streak at the right time. The 2018-19 Tampa Bay Lightning, third-best team in NHL history, got swept in the first round by Sergei Bobrovsky going crazy. The 2022-23 Bruins lost in seven in the first round in much the same manner.

And no matter what, the Leafs are always on the wrong end of the luck. Bounces hit the post. The refs take back goals for reasons they would have ignored at any other time of year. John Tavares slips, and his head makes contact with a knee.

Mitch ends up the whipping boy. He is the Leafs’ most valuable player, and this is a team with Auston Matthews on it, but I’m serious. He was the Leafs’ leading playoff scorer in 2023, he’s one of the best penalty-killers in the league, he’s adored by everyone who’s ever once talked to him. He only ever wanted to be a Leaf, and now that he is here he is the sacrificial lamb for the anger at a curse that is not his fault.

I do blame the media. I will always blame the media, those who turn on him at a moment’s notice because they know picking on the skinny pretty unmanly one will get more clicks than anything else. I beg of you -- know that, of anything that it could be, it is not Mitch’s fault.

Jack Eichel has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neck Injury

It is 2021, and the Sabres aren’t going to make the playoffs. Jack Eichel has been captain for coming up on three years, and has been a Sabre for coming up on six, none of which have even slightly improved the team. He is widely disliked within the fanbase, and, rumouredly, within the locker room and organization. 

Jack is frustrated, dragging a mediocre team along through a slog of the past six years, and he has never been the kindest man on the planet. He is about to get worse. The Sabres are on a losing streak when they head to Long Island, and Jack is hit the wrong way and slips a disk in his neck. The Sabres insist he’ll only be out a week and a half. 

It is a great sin in hockey, to go against team. Anything that can be seen as selfish is demonized; shooting from a difficult angle when your teammate is wide open, not playing when you can muscle through the pain. Not trusting your coach or management is about as bad as you can get. If you’re a team guy, willing to sacrifice health and limb for the boys, you are held as saint, no matter how hurt you become in the end. This is a philosophy that has been drilled into these men since they were kids, as soon as they put their first skates on. You can stand any pain for the length of a hockey shift; you can play through anything for two minutes. It is a dangerous, dangerous school of thought, one of the most destructive parts of hockey culture. But it is, nonetheless, law.

Eichel is about to commit a sin so great they’ll kick him out of Heaven. I do think that, of the four of them, he is the only one with any semblance of genre awareness: when he was first scouted as a prospect and they were comparing him to McDavid, I think that he would be the only one to ignore the media’s spin on that as thoroughly as he did. He knows what he is, and he knows himself. Of course it comes off as bitchy and selfish, though -- that kind of pressure can’t be kind to anyone.

Before the week and a half is up, he visits a specialist doctor about his neck. This is where it all starts to go wrong.

The Sabres take issue with that for two reasons: one, that they hoped he’d be able to come back after the end of it. Keep in mind that he has herniated a disk in his neck, an injury typically so severe it’s impressive he’s walking -- slipping a cervical disk often causes nerve pain that radiates down through the entire spinal cord below that point, which is the whole body from how high up his is. Two, that the doctor he consults is an independent surgeon, one unaffiliated with the Sabres themselves. 

The thing about belonging to a hockey team is that you are, because of the way your employment is linked to your physical health, essentially their property. They make your medical decisions for you, they feed you, they tell you how to move. Going to someone else is a breach of contract, and the already-tense connection between Jack and the Sabres gets more tense. The Sabres keep losing. They lose eighteen games in a row.

Jack’s doctor recommended a surgery that no NHL player has ever had; cervical disk replacement. The Sabres did not want this -- the surgery carries risks, yes, but they also wanted to control the way that Jack’s injury was handled, and going through with this surgery was Jack’s wish, not theirs. The Sabres do their own evaluation, and ask for a different, more common surgery: spinal fusion. This surgery carries less immediate risk, but the bones in Eichel’s neck will also be fused, and he doesn’t want that. Because the team has final control over a player’s health, not the player, they decline his disk replacement. Having reached a stalemate, they rule him out for the rest of the season, trying to win a war of attrition.

September 2021 rolls around, and the Sabres, along with thirty-one other teams, take training camp. At the beginning of training camp, players do a physical exam. Jack, because his herniated disk has not improved, because he needs a surgery that has been denied from him, because he is stubbornly and bravely willing to wait out the Sabres, fails his physical. As a result, the Sabres, fed up with him, strip the captain’s C from his chest.

Jack makes one final request to the team: either let him get the surgery or trade him. In the end, they trade him to the Vegas Golden Knights, a team that did not exist when he was drafted. The Golden Knights approve him for the disk replacement surgery the day they acquire him.

The surgery is a success; his rehab goes better than anyone expects, and he starts tearing it up when he comes back. I would argue that, if the Golden Knights win the Cup this year, he should get the Conn Smythe -- he has been an invaluable member of the team, even without a letter on his chest.

It is less important for him to win his million awards than it is for him to come in and out of this surgery in the first place, still able to play. He fought with the team that was supposed to have upheld him as their star for months over his right to do what he wanted with his own health; in the end, the only way to go was for him to change that team. He was the first to have this surgery, but after him there have already been hockey players who have undergone it -- much like Tommy John, the baseball player who got his ulnar ligament reconstructed and the surgery to do so named after him. He fought for the chance to control his own body and won.

And for that, he was demonized.

The Sabres missed the playoffs every year they had him; they missed the playoffs every year after he left. Because he was the captain and he had the audacity to go against the organization’s wishes, he was hated. In Buffalo, he is still hated. If you ask, they’ll tell you he was a locker room cancer, that he was undevoted to winning. If you look at him in Vegas, neither of those things are true.

Jack Eichel is a rare man -- he does have that “clutch” gene, or rather doesn’t have the choke instinct. He has always been unbothered by the spiral around him. He operates well in the mire, and when the pressure rises it doesn’t affect him (or maybe, even better, he feeds on it.) He has the right kind of mentality -- that fuck-you, I’m here and you can’t change that, you tried to control me and I wouldn’t bend mentality. He has only made the playoffs once, this year. Like Dylan, actually, his only appearance has involved defeating Connor McDavid. Go back and watch his highlights from the Vegas-Edmonton series if you can: he has a couple of pretty goals and more than a couple great defensive takeaways, but he doesn’t lose his cool, not once. He has earned his right to be here, and he knows it more than anyone else. I’m rooting for the Stars, but I hope he wins some day.

153

How do you talk about the Edmonton Oilers? I mean, without either excusing or demonizing them, although I admit I have Hater Instinct and trend towards the latter. They have the best player in the world; that grown-up incarnation of the wide-eyed boy on the Erie rink. They have the best playoff performer in the world; Leon Draisaitl, who I have not avoided mentioning until now on purpose, but whom I cannot continue without bringing up. They have been terribly cap-managed since the day McDavid was drafted, and are an unstable roster with blazing-hot offense and very little defence or goaltending at all.

For a brief moment, let’s not talk about the Oilers. Let’s only talk about Connor himself.

McDavid has 850 points in 569 career games. Not even Sid had that many points through that few games. If he stays healthy, Connor’s well on track to become the second player ever to hit two thousand for his career -- after a certain other Oiler, who need not be mentioned. He has won just about every award you can win, with the exception of the Selke… and the Cup.

If it’s possible, he has proven himself better than all of the hype at the draft saying he would become a great. To watch him, you can see the way he has changed his team, how even though they have all learned from him that he is still the best.

There is something that many Oilers do. When next your team plays them, pay attention to it: they cut into the offensive zone with possession on the outside, using tight little crossovers to gain speed, after which they’ll usually try to rush the net (if there are no defenders in the way). This is a move that McDavid has patented; he’ll use it, just as many of the others will, but he’ll probably be the one that scores. The depth all skate like him, really, fast and in wide arcs, trying to generate a rush chance. 

Connor as a player is a tour de force, the best power-player in the world by a mile, no slouch at even strength, speedy enough to score even shorthanded. The boy’s got wheels. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which NHLers are fast and which are slow, but Connor’s just that tick above everyone else that you can see it without eye training at all.

Connor as a person is a bit less showy. He’s quiet by nature, shy and soft-voiced. Because he was hyped so much (franchise saviour, McJesus, Next One) he has been media trained into sterility, giving the same level answers as everyone else, hardly daring to express any opinion at all. His eyes are big, rounded, and one of them is lazy from a time when his brother tried to take it out as a child, and that combined with his heavy brow and stiff expression -- he’s never been a good smiler, smirks with one corner of his mouth and that’s mostly it -- give him a resting expression of something like concern, or maybe despair. When he laughs, he doesn’t really “laugh,” just kind of coughs, a one or two-syllable affair. He avoids eye contact with the camera, and often the reporters as well. There is no seething emotion under the surface, not like with Eichel, nor does he speak analytically like Dylan does. He moves through his life as if he is someone who does not want it to turn out quite like this.

I do not know if he wants to be in Edmonton. There are jokes about how he is desperate to leave, but I definitely don’t believe those; there’s a difference between not wanting to stay and wanting to go. I don’t think he hates it. He has been given a responsibility, the captain’s C -- and because, unlike Jack Eichel, he is a good Canadian boy who has been given a destiny, he accepts it. He loves his teammates, especially Draisaitl, whom he seems to derive all his confidence from.

I will also say that I don’t believe he’s stupid. Naive, perhaps; not stupid. There is no way out for him, even if he was sure he wanted to leave; he’s the best player in the world, far too expensive for any contender to afford in either trade or cap space, and if he asks for a trade he won’t let himself go to a team that isn’t already a contender. He will remain an Oiler at least until his contract is up, and I imagine that his staying afterwards depends on Draisaitl.

People talk about him leaving a lot, largely because of the team that has been assembled around him. The Oilers are not a well-created team, and I will say that plainly now and spend as little time technically deconstructing it as possible.

Beyond McDavid and Draisaitl, they have:

A rookie starting goaltender, whose success as we know it is based on a single-season sample size and a complete playoff collapse.

A five million dollar backup goaltender, who earned his contract by being carried by the Leafs, despite being utterly horrendous for a long enough stretch leading up to his free agency that anyone who looked beyond the win-loss numbers wouldn’t have signed him.

One genuine shutdown defender.

One young up-and-coming defender; by far one of the most promising Oiler (or otherwise) defensive prospects, beyond the usual suspects.

One netfront grinder who is great at playing wing to high-power setters, but cannot drive his own line.

One decent 2C.

Sarah Nurse’s cousin. Sarah’s better.

A supporting cast of bad defencemen and middling-at-best forwards.

Many charming characters, of course: Zach Hyman, the grinder, is a beloved ex-Leaf, and I’m personally a fan of Nugent-Hopkins, the 2C, but the vast majority of this is not the sort of thing a contending team is built upon. McDavid has missed the playoffs almost as often as he’s made them. The playoffs are a crapshoot, but in order to try your luck you have to at least be able to enter the lottery, and it takes a stunning amount of effort to be able to do that.

So, McDavid lingers, in this kind of limbo. It mirrors the Leafs, almost. (And yes. Because McDavid is an Ontario boy, and the Leafs are the Centre of the Universe, we have to mention them both in conversation. Not all stories revolve around the Leafs, but this one does.) One true contender, and one generational talent, both what we picture to be well overdue for their Cup run, but neither having yet done so. 

The thing about the stories of the class of 2015 is that they intertwine, that they mimic and mirror each other. These boys have not simply gotten drafted in the same handful of picks in the same year and gone on their merry ways -- they layer, they parallel, they weave around each other. Connor is the captain of a team that cannot win, Jack is a captain, Mitch cannot win. Jack fought for the right to control his body and was demonized for it; Mitch negotiated for a contract that he determined to be a fair price for Babcock, and was demonized for it. Whatever pure saviour they figure Connor to be, Jack is the twisted inverse of that, falling from grace.

Connor has one of the best seasons in NHL history, one of only seventeen player-seasons with over a hundred and fifty points (Nine of those seasons belong to Gretzky. Another four belong to Lemieux.) He loses, in six games in the second round, to the Vegas Golden Knights. At the time that he’s eliminated, he leads the playoffs in points. Leon Draisaitl is tied for second place. Counting from the date Mitch Marner played his first game in the NHL, the Oilers and Leafs have almost exactly the same number of playoff game wins, with the Oilers having one more.

There’s No Place Like Strome

Before we can look to the future, there is one person I have been neglecting. Dylan, poor Dylan. I think it would be only half an unfair assessment to call him a draft bust. He’s talented, for sure, but not nearly the same calibre that the draftees around him are. Hardly a Marner, an Eichel, or even a Rantanen or a Meier. 

His career has existed quietly in the shadows, so far from Connor McDavid that it only feels fair to mention them in the same conversation in this context. It has been eight years since they were best friends, Connor so close to Dylan he waited in the stadium in order to watch him get drafted. They didn’t look each other in the eye in the handshake line when Dylan won their series. Connor didn’t go to his wedding.

That being said: so far, he has found himself a knack for landing in the shadow of greatness. When he was an Erie Otter, it was Connor -- Dylan held the scoring title in their draft year, while Connor was out nursing his hand, but Connor was the chosen son and Dylan was the Coyotes’ consolation prize. When he was traded to the Blackhawks, he found himself centring Kane and Debrincat, but of course both of them were the offseason and trade deadline’s prizes, and not him.

And then he signed in Washington.

So now, we go back to Ovechkin. Alex Ovechkin is one of the greatest players of all time; his Capitals are on the decline now, but they contended for a long time while he was playing and may still contend as long as Ovi still skates. For a long time, the team relied on Ovechkin’s goalscoring, assisted mostly by his faithful centre, Nicklas Backstrom. They, too, are married; they have played a thousand games as teammates, been through a decade of heartbreak together before the Cup was theirs. During the 2021-2022 season, Backstrom took time off -- he needed hip surgery, something likely to end his career. Ovi was alone.

There is a fundamental difference, of course, between the expectations of wingers and centres. A winger, like Ovi, scores, or assists, at his own leisure, but it is the centre’s job to drive his line. Ovechkin is generational -- he will sink forty goals no matter what -- but he still needs someone to move him out of the defensive zone, someone to make his assist.

Enter Dylan -- a young centre, not especially fast on his feet but intelligent, and clearly experienced in the realm of managing high-calibre wingers (see: Debrincat, and the ghost of Patrick Kane.) He joins the Capitals on a one-year contract, desperate to prove himself. Chicago didn’t want him, and Arizona didn’t either. It takes barely until November before he is, once again, the necessary shadow of greatness. 

Ovechkin, the team’s captain and centrepoint, clearly likes what he sees, and the management does, as well. The Capitals offer Strome a five-year extension.

Maybe it’s because he’s less of a superstar then the other three members of his draft class, but Dylan has a life outside of hockey -- a wife and young daughter. After being thrown away by other teams, and with his new family, I can only imagine that it was… peaceful, if anything, to be offered this contract.

Chicago, after rapidly getting rid of him, Debrincat, and then Kane, would go on to tank spectacularly, and win themselves the first overall pick. They will use it to draft another generational talent. His name is also Connor.

The Blue Wedding

So, here we stand, at the end of it all. Dylan finally has a home, a mother hen of a Russian bear that it has become his job to assist in record-breaking, and soon to be two daughters. Jack has a team that loves him, freedom from pain, and an ongoing potential Cup run. Connor has a sterile mansion, a best friend, and an unsteady team. Mitch’s life is up in the air.

Right as I’m writing this, the general manager of the Leafs has been unceremoniously kicked out. His tenure will end the day before Mitch’s no-move contract kicks in, but it is not known if Mitch’s time as a Leaf will survive that long. He is well on track to become one of the greatest Leafs of all time, and his tenure might be cut short in the prime of his career. 

But let’s wrap up with this: Mitch will get married this summer. Because he’s Mitch, the darling of the league, everyone’s best friend, I imagine the wedding party to be extensive/ Packed to the brim of current and former Leafs, as well as people who have never been Leafs. I wonder if Dylan Strome will be there -- or even Connor McDavid, although McDavid never even attended Dylan’s wedding.

The stories, as they do, go on.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forgotten Ties - Epilogue

*Warning Adult Content*

For a long time, the only thing Nim could feel was a burning core of heat.

He wasn't even sure which part of his body it was coming from because he couldn't feel anything else for context.

He had laid there for what seemed like hours, the heat slowly expanding, before the realisation came to him that he wasn't breathing.

Was he dead?

Was this what it was like?

He had always sort of just assumed death would be a whole lot of nothing.

This wasn't much but it was definitely something.

The burning sensation was coming from his chest.

That was becoming more obvious as it crept out towards his limbs.

Could he move?

He hadn't thought to try.

He wasn't sure he even knew how to try.

He continued to lay there and wonder.

The last little push happened all at once.

The sensation of suffocation flooded through him and then, without thinking, he summoned all his strength and shoved himself up, bursting out from beneath a thick layer of snow.

Nim heaved in deep breaths, fighting to satisfy what felt like an insatiable need for oxygen.

He was naked.

His skin was blue from the cold but not frostbitten.

In front of him stood a trembling figure made of pale blue light.

The Fae.

Had he died?

He remembered the fight.

He remembered falling.

He'd taken a few good slices from a machete if nothing else but a quick examination of his body showed no signs of injury.

Was he still himself?

He'd never heard of the Fae just bringing someone back unchanged before but as far as he could tell he looked like himself and as the rest of the strangeness that had surrounded his resurrection faded, he really did just feel like himself.

Nim shifted.

A dense coat of fur was his best defence against the cold.

Last he remembered, there had only been a thin layer of snow on the ground.

Now he made channels through it as he sniffed the area.

The first thing he found, buried under the snow, were the bodies of the humans.

He didn't want to think about that too much.

He'd never wanted to hurt anybody but faced with people who were all too willing to hurt him, to hurt Skye, who had already killed Aris...

Well, he'd done what he'd felt he had to.

He was sure he would spend many sleepless nights wondering whether there may have been another way.

The Fae briefly investigated the bodies Nim had uncovered but it didn't seem very interested in them.

So they really did play favourites.

Nim sniffed around the hole in the snow his body had left.

At first all he could smell was his own blood but then something sweet tickled his senses and he dug a tunnel through the snow to a frozen pool of vomit.

It had to have come from Skye.

No one else would have had that many different foods in their stomach.

But how long ago?

It was buried deep under the snow.

Even the mountains above Nim looked taller.

It had to have been days at least.

Skye must have come down looking for him, seen his broken body and left.

And then... well, who knows.

Skye had almost lost himself after a stressful day at school.

Nim had died.

He had died and Skye had seen it happen, had seen his body afterwards.

Would he have been able to find his way back to the others or would he have just wandered off somewhere?

Skye had said he'd spent most of his life in that state, just existing without a proper mind.

Somehow, he had survived.

He had to have good instincts.

Surely even if he hadn't been able to stay present in his head, he would have found his way out of the mountains.

Nim hoped so, anyway because he didn't stand a chance of picking up a trail beneath all this snow.

He'd have to get himself the rest of the way across the mountains and then go from there.

A bit more sniffing uncovered Nim's bag and after shifting and unzipping it, he found his clothes shoved inside.

Skye must have packed everything up and thrown Nim's bag down for him.

Nim hoped he would get the opportunity to thank him.

Nim dressed, shouldered his bag and let out a breath that fogged the air as he stared up at the mountain in front of him.

Time to go find his friends.

[rassvetsky]

Completely

bucky barnes x reader

"Being one of the few people Bucky Barnes trusted meant having to babysit Alpine when he's away. Luckily for you, Alpine was one hell of a listener and you were sure she got that from her dad."

[1k] | fluff alpine being cute, sappy bucky, friends to lovers kinda? written seconds after a mental breakdown while drunk so enjoy

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

You didn't feel guilty making yourself at home on Bucky's mattress, the cup of coffee you've prepared for yourself sitting graciously on the nightstand as you grabbed your phone from where it was charging. He barely ever slept in proper places anyway, preferring the floor like a kicked puppy and it made your heart clench each time, but not like you could tell him what to do with his own life.

Alpine was already seated on the soft sheets, her soft purr warming up the room, big eyes squinted in a sleepy gaze. She basically threw herself on your palm when you reached to pet her, soft white fur bringing a smile to your lips with the way it felt under your fingertips as you heaved a sigh.

"Your dad's kinda psychotic, you know that?" you hummed, chuckling to yourself a little afterwards. "Why get a mattress this comfy if you're never going to use it?" and she looked up at you like she understood, before letting a yawn out and slowly approaching you on the bed, temptative steps leading her up to your stomach where she decided to lay on. "You're gonna sleep there?" you snickered. "Alright, that's new. Somebody loves me." and although you were facing her butt and she was facing the other side of the room, you could still feel the love.

"Wish your dad was affective like you, though." you spoke, softly. "Not expecting much, he's stoic as hell anyway but… I don't ever understand what he's feeling, you know? What he's thinking about. Sometimes he's just gazing at me like I'm something a lot more than just a friend who babysits his cat and sometimes he's staring at me like he wants me dead. Can't really tell," your fingers carded through her fur, head tilted a bit in thought. "Really hope it's not the latter, though. I won't stand a chance."

Little did you know then, that Bucky was already home, having stepped inside as quietly as he could since it was a bit late at night, not wanting to wake you if you were asleep. Frowning a bit upon hearing your voice, his steps led him to the door of the bedroom, as he stood by the frame to tell if you were on the phone or had anybody over.

"I like the guy, actually. I think you take a lot after him, Alpine." your soft hum got the cat to purr even louder as she laid her head on your lap. "I think deep down in there, he's just really… Sensitive. Sometimes he remembers the smallest details about something I told him months ago and suddenly- suddenly I feel like he's out there in the sky, hanging the stars for me, you know?" you sighed. "So cruel of him to make me feel that way and then… Not do anything about it."

Bucky felt his heart twist, leaning on the door frame with a faint smile by his lips.

"And sometimes- yep, there we go," you chuckled when she got off your lap, just to find a spot to lay on right next to you. "Knew that wouldn't last long. Anyway, as I was saying- I think, um, I think we almost kissed this weekend. It was the key handing-over ceremony, at that pub that he often goes to- we… Maybe I'm reading too much into it."

Her purring got a bit more quiet, as if she was on the verge of falling asleep. "But we… We definitely hugged too long. And then for a moment I swear- He just went in for the lips and pulled back right before they could touch and… I almost died, Alpine. Thank fucking God he rushed out after that because I almost had a heart attack."

Your touch on her head was as soft as it could get. "Now that I think about it, you and I are quite similar. He's your whole world. And I think… He's slowly becoming mine, too."

That's when Alpine perked up, and had you following her gaze to the door.

That's when you saw him, arms folded on his chest with Alpine rushing to his feet, just to purr and nuzzle against the material of his jeans.

That's when you noticed the way he was smiling so bright that it was suddenly morning again for you.

"Please don't tell me. I don't wanna know for how long you've been there."

"Long enough," he replied, shrugging before long strides took him next to you, to sit by the edge of the bed and shake his head. "Sorry. Should've let you know that I was home."

"Yeah, you-" you couldn't find the words, suddenly. Pushing yourself up, you re-positioned yourself until you were sitting right next to him. "You really should've. But don't be sorry- I'm sorry."

"The only reason you should apologize is that you were telling all that stuff to Alpine," he spoke, in a tone so gentle that it could lull you to sleep right there and then. "While you could've told me. And for the record, I really wanted to kiss you that night. So bad."

"Really?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he snickered. "You're already my world. Completely."

[daenqyu]

— they accidentally confess to their crush

includes: shinsou, bakugou, midoriya, todoroki and hawks

warnings: swearing

a/n: thank you for requesting <3 i love this idea! it’s so cute🥺 also, hawks’ may be a little longer than the others because it’s my first time writing for him and i got a bit excited👉🏼👈🏼 

ps: i don’t mind writing for hawks if it’s a headcannon and/or texts! so feel free to request him :D and yes, this is a repoost because the algorithm hates me.

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @tetsuruo )

shinsou hitoshi:

it would happen so randomly and out of the blue

as i said before, i think shinsou is a really reserved and quiet type of guy

but that seems to vanish whenever he’s around you

he’s more talkative and constantly goes out with you so you guys can have some quality time together

you also make him really nervous 

he’s pretty chill with everyone and seems to not give a fuck about most things

but with you?

that’s a whole different story 

whenever you keep your gaze stuck on him when he’s talking and his eyes meet yours, his heart never fails to do backflips because fuck you’re so cute

(oh to have shinsou think i’m cute D:)

ok back to the actual hc,,, 

you two were hanging out in your room, listening to music and just talking 

even tho your best friends, shinsou never really tells you much about his personal life

of course you know the basics like his hobbies and all his favorite things

but he never talks to you about...crushes or anything 

and you don’t like that because :( friends are supposed to tell each other this stuff, right? 

it’s fun and makes the bond even stronger

so you decide to ask him because why not?

“hey shinsou?” 

he’s sitting down next to you on your bed, your legs draped over his

which makes him feel all warm inside

it’s stupid and definitely not a big deal, 

but it’s little things like this that make him fall more and more for you

“yes?” 

“do you have a crush?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him in a teasing way, although he’s not even looking your way

a part of you is nervous to hear his response 

because unbeknownst to shinsou, you reallyyy like him

and have been crushing on him for quite some time now, but since you’re so sure the feelings are one sided, you don’t tell him

he’s too invested on the game he’s playing on your switch, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he concentrates

so he almost misses your question

and when he does answer, he’s not even paying attention to the words that leave his mouth

“apart from you? no”

it takes him a good minute to process what he said

meanwhile you’re sitting there like :o

you certainly weren’t expecting THAT

like it’s a good thing!!!! but you’re kinda flustered 

especially when shinsou finally looks up at you, eyes widened in surprise at his own bluntness as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, not knowing what to say now

“wait! i didn’t mean it like that!”

“you didn’t?”

he notices the slight pain in your voice and the way you move away from him slowly and he’s quick to apologize 

“shit, okay...yes i like you but i didn’t say anything because i don’t want to make things weird between us or ruin what we have right now”

he’s looking everywhere but you

because he doesn’t exactly want to face you when you reject him

but you don’t ???

instead you giggle and before he can ask you what’s so funny, you climb on his lap to hug him, causing him to blush furiously 

“i like you too, toshi”

the nickname makes him hug you even tighter while he hides his face on your neck 

it was such a cute confession and even when you two start going out, you never stop bringing it up

which makes shinsou extremely embarrassed 

“hey remember when you confessed and-”

“y/n, we’ve talked about this”

“oh come on! you were so adorable”

he pouts at you 

“were?”

people think he looks so scary but he’s actually a whole ass baby

you roll your eyes before leaning down to give him a sweet kiss, 

“you’re such a baby”

“hm, your baby”

“oh my god you did not”

yeah no, he’s in love with you👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @bakugousmyboy )

bakugou katsuki:

i feel like it would be pretty difficult to have bakugou accidentally confess directly to you

he knows how to control himself and his emotions so i doubt he’d actually ever do something like this

however,

he’s not that good at hiding his crush on you and mostly everyone on class 1A knows the boy is an absolute sucker for you

except you because apparently you think he’s just being nice

and everyone else is like wtf???? 

like he’s ALWAYS screaming at everyone 

but when it’s you he doesn’t 

in fact, sometimes he even lowers his voice so it won’t bother you 

so that behavior is the one that caused him to be stuck in the situation he is right now

he sat in the common room with kirishima and kaminari, trying to eat his food in peace but the two idiots, as he likes to call them, wouldn’t shut up

he had completely blocked out both of their voices, focusing on finishing his meal and getting the hell away from them

until he heard your name being mentioned 

“dude when are you gonna ask y/n out? everyone knows how much you like her  so might as well you know,” kirishima bumps his shoulder against the blonde, only to receive a glare. “get some action”

“yeah bakubro, she’s super cute too” kaminari buts in and bakugou is about to punch them both in the face

“shut the fuck up. i don’t like her” bakugou scoffs

“but you’re such a softie for her”

“huh?! i treat her the same as i treat all of you extras!” oh but he knows he’s lying, you can’t even compare to any of your annoying classmates 

kirishima smirks, “i’m pretty sure you’ve never once, raised your voice at her”

“so? that doesn’t mean shit”

kaminari looks at kirishima and the redhead nods at him, giving him the green light

“well since you don’t like her, you wouldn’t mind if i ask her out? because i’ve been wanting to-” kaminari can’t even finish his sentence before bakugou grabs him by the collar of his shirt

kaminari yelps, looking over at his other friend for help but he moves his head quickly, knowing better than to get involved 

“you try and make a move on her and i swear to God i’ll blast you all the way across japan, dunce face”

bakugou’s voice is threatening and low, and kaminari knows he means every word so he quickly raises his arms in defeat and nods his head

“okay, okay! i swear i won’t”

little do they know that you’ve been standing behind them for a while now

you’re happy to know your feelings are reciprocated 

but of course you want to tease bakugou about it

“hm did my ears deceive me or does boom boom boy have a crush on me?” 

kirishima and kaminari take that as their cue to run away to their rooms, leaving you two alone

“tch, how long have you been standing there?” even as he glares you down, he can’t hide the blush on his cheeks 

he didn’t want you to find out this way

or at all tbh

you walk over to him, a wide smile on your lips

“long enough”

afterwards you ask him if he wants to go watch a movie with you the next day and he’s lowkey mad because he wanted to ask you on a date first, but he doesn’t say no

you end up having way more fun than expected and you actually confirmed that bakugou was a softie for you 

(turns out you were the last one to find out because literally everyone else knew)

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to its rightful owner )

midoriya izuku:

OKAY HE’D BE THE MOST FLUSTERED OUT OF ALL OF THEM

he can barely function around girls in general so like, what does that tell you?

he likes you so much but he’s so scared 

but he’s also so sweet to you even before you start dating oml

midoriya is a sweetheart, we all know this

and he pays so much attention to you

like if you are the mall one day and you see something you really like but can’t buy it for whatever reason well…

a few days later he gets it for you

he would say something along the lines of, “you seemed to really like it so i got it for you”

“you didn’t have to, izuku!”

“but i wanted to”

you’ll try to pay him back in some sort of way but he absolutely refuses

he loves pampering you

yet whenever you try to do the same he doesn’t let you and it’s: ✨annoying✨

anyways,

you were supposed to go to the movies

but midoriya had forgotten he had some homework to do, which was due the next day

“i’m so sorry y/n! i completely forgot, but i promise i’ll finish quickly” he tried to reassure you and you chuckle at the boy, so cute

“it’s okay, izuku. i don’t mind waiting”

you lay down on his bed, trying your best to keep your eyes open 

but as much as you tried, you eventually fell asleep against the soft sheets, your best friend’s bed being just too comfortable 

midoriya sat on his desk chair, writing down the answers as fast as he could so you guys could go watch the movie you were so excited about

he let out a sigh of relief when he finished, before taking his phone out to check the time

6:37PM, the movie starts at 7PM so we still have time

he stood up to tell you he had finished, but was met with your sleeping figure

your eyes were closed and soft snores left your slightly parted lips, hands gripping his sheets to your chest

the curly haired boy almost combusted at the sight

you looked so peaceful, so pretty

a smile grazed his lips as he made his way over to the bed

he sat down beside you, quietly admiring your features 

feeling the mattress dip thanks to his weight, you began to wake up, but quickly shut your eyes when you noticed midoriya was looking at you

truth be told, you just wanted to scare him by suddenly jumping

but his next words made your breath hitch

one of his hands moved up to your face, resting it gently against your cheek as his thumb massaged the skin

your heartbeat was out of control and you forced yourself to calm your breathing so he wouldn’t notice you were awake 

his touch was so gentle and sweet, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away

“i wish i could tell you how beautiful you are” he whispered and if you hadn’t been so close to him, you probably wouldn’t have heard him

after hearing him say that you couldn’t stay still

you opened your eyes, a smile quickly spreading across your features as you turned around to face the green haired boy

midoriya almost had a heart attack when you moved, hoping you hadn’t heard him

but based on the mischievous grin you wore, he knew you had

“well you just did”

“y-you were awake?!”

“yup, i’m glad i was tho”

hE’S INTERNALLY SCREAMING

your gaze is flirtatious and you’re still grinning and he’s just >_<

“now let’s go or we’ll be late!” 

midoriya can only nod before following you outside

once you’re on your way to the movie theater, you notice midoriya fidgeting with his fingers, his eyes glued to his shoes

you smile as you suddenly take his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers together 

midoriya looks at you with a nervous expression, what is she doing?

“you know, you’re beautiful too”

you were looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes and he felt so embarrassed yet excited at the same time

because holy fuck you just called him beautiful AND held his hand???

he thinks it can’t get any better than this

and then it does when you kiss him a few weeks later😳🤚🏼

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @ambershaydeoffical )

todoroki shouto:

like bakugou, i don’t really think he’d be clumsy enough to accidentally confess

however, he does like to speak his mind and isn’t afraid to do so

he’s just really honest and blunt

way too honest 

which gets him in trouble sometimes but oh well, that’s just the way he is and everyone is pretty used to his personality by now

though, after figuring out he liked you as more than a friend, he started to think more before talking

sometimes you liked to get his opinion on your outfits and/or hairstyles

so you’d drag him to you room and force him to be honest and tell you which one he liked most

it doesn’t matter what you wear, you always look beautiful 

he wants to say that, but instead he goes:

“they all look good, i think the purple shirt really fits you tho”

“i was thinking the same thing!”

he doesn’t want to scare you off or make things weird

so he forces himself to hold back on his bluntness 

at least when he’s with you

but one day he just can’t help himself 

you were on your way back to the dorms after a tiring day at school

todoroki walked next to you, eyes glancing over to you from time to time so you knew he was listening\

you were currently rambling about how shitty your love life was

claiming that there must be something wrong with you since no one seemed to pay attention to you- at least romantically 

“i mean seriously, am i doing something wrong or is everyone i’ve met just not for me??” 

you had your cheeks puffed out, a pout on your lips as you kicked the small rocks on the floor

todoroki smiled softly at your complaints, thinking irony could be quite funny sometimes 

until you spoke up again,

“maybe i’m just too ugly or boring, that’d make more sense”

todoroki almost stops dead in his tracks to see if you have a fever 

how could you say that????

you’re so gorgeous to todoroki, and interesting 

you’re probably the first girl he’s ever liked this much in his life

and you have the audacity to doubt your worth just because other people can’t seem to appreciate you??

uh uh, he’s not having it

and so, the words come out before he can even register them properly

“if you were as ugly as you say are then, i don’t think i’d like you as much as i do”

your eyes widened and you stopped walking, wondering if you had heard him right

todoroki stops walking too, and once he realizes what happened, he’s looking away, trying to come up with a valid excuse as to why he said that

you, however, can’t stop staring at him

finding the way he glares at the ground adorable

a sense of happiness takes over your whole body when he doesn’t say anything to deny his sudden confession 

because he cannot lie to you

you walk towards todoroki until you’re standing right in front of him and before he can even question what you’re doing, you plant a sweet kiss against his cheek

“good thing the feeling is mutual”

your words make him smile and he looks so happy

probably the happiest he’s ever been

and you feel proud of being the one responsible for that pretty smile of his

neither of you really rush into making things official 

but the way todoroki lets you cuddle on his left side whenever you’re cold or how he waits for you every morning so you can walk together to class makes it more than clear that he really likes you

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to its rightful owner )

takami keigo (hawks)

he’d be the type to not give a fuck about it

like he already confessed so what can he do?

nothing. exactly

he’s so cocky and flirty the whole time oml

he’d be shocked for a few seconds, but after seeing you were way more flustered than him, he’d just start teasing you

in a loving way of course

he’s also surprised you hadn’t noticed earlier on, considered how much he flirts with you, but then again, that’s part of his personality so

kinda makes sense you didn’t suspect anything

but he’s so cute and soft for you 🥺

okok so it happened the same day you got your results for your midterms

(you’re a college student here lol)

you had studied your ass off for this tests

staying up until 4AM and having to ditch your friends when they invited you to go out

so you were really positive

you squealed when your teacher hands you back the papers and you see the grade on the right corner

you felt happy to know that all your hard work wasn't in vain

the nerves you had been feeling since the day you took the midterms quickly vanished and were replaced with the feeling of pride

as you walked out of the building, you dialed the person who you wanted to share the news most with

he picked up after the second ring

“what’s up?” his voice was raspy and you ignored the butterflies that appeared in your stomach at the sound

“hey, i have great news!”

“care to elaborate?”

“you’ll find out when i get to your house”

“oh? and who said you could come over?” his tone is teasing and you can practically hear the smirk on his face, which makes you roll your eyes

“i did, now bye. i’ll be there in five minutes and order some pizza to celebrate” you don’t even get hear his complaints because you’ve already hung up

anyone who saw the way you two acted with each other would automatically think you guys were a couple

you were rather affectionate with each other; occasionally holding hands while you walked down the streets and even calling each other by your first names

that was just the bond you two had, and you loved it

he brought you so much comfort

it was almost ridiculous the way he was able to make you smile by simply calling or texting you

you had grown quite attached to the number 2 hero, but you constantly told yourself you needed to snap out of it

because you were friends

nothing more and nothing less

oh but how you wished there was more to your relationship than just that

you shook your head, as if that could help you get rid of the thoughts

true to your word, you soon found yourself outside of keigo’s house

the college you went to wasn’t that far away from there so

you pushed the doorbell and waited around two minutes before a sleepy looking keigo opened the door

his hair was messy and the way he rubbed his eyes and kept yawning let you know he probably had been taking a nap

you scoff, “were you sleeping?” you ask him as you walk into his home, smiling at the familiar scent

he chuckles from behind you, following you into his living room, “maybe, but you woke me up”

“can’t believe your lazy ass earned the number two spot”

“what can i say? it’s a talent,” he shrugs before sitting down next to you on the couch, resting his face on his hand. “so, what’s the good news?”

“so you know i took my midterms last friday, right?” keigo nods. “well, i got my results today” he raises his eyebrows in surprise and waits as you look for the papers inside your bag

once you get them out, you place them in front of your face so he can see for himself

keigo smiles proudly and it only widens when you look up at him expectantly, biting your lower lip

“holy fuck, that’s amazing! you did so good dove”

the nickname makes you weak on the knees but you’re quick to brush it off

you should be used to it, since keigo has been calling you that for quite some time now, yet it never fails to make your heart beat insanely fast

you nod excitedly and put the papers down before you start talking about your experience

keigo can’t help but admire you

you look so happy and cute

it makes him want to kiss you

he wants to shut you up by kissing you, and it sound mean and disrespectful but you just look so gorgeous 😡

and instead of randomly kissing you, he blurts out a confession

“math was probably the hardest but i managed to pass it too, surprisingly, so i-”

he doesn’t even know what you’re talking about anymore, too focused on your smile

“God i like you so much”

you shut up instantly

did you hear that right?

or was your mind playing tricks on you?

keigo looks away momentarily, before locking eyes with you and tilting his head to the side, waiting for a reaction

which he gets soon after because you can’t handle the way he’s looking at you

you look away, hiding your face the best you can

“w-what did you say?”

he smirks after hearing the stutter in your voice

he gets closer to you, until he’s right in front of your face, before saying:

“i like you, y/n”

you don’t know what to say

what are you even supposed to do???

keigo just confessed

your best friend and crush just confessed to you

that’s not something that happens everyday

“i um, like you too” you don’t look at him and he almost chuckles at your shy expression, but decides not to embarrass you any further

“happy to hear that”

he doesn’t say anything for a while and you wonder what the hell is going through his head right

he’s probably just messing with me. oh my God he probably is and i just said i liked him too so what-

your train of thought is cut off when you feel the blonde ruffle your hair while looking at you lovingly

you slowly look up to him

“i’m proud of you, dove”

fuck

“t-thanks”

“now, i think this is something worth celebrating and i’m not talking about pizza. so let me take you out”

“it’s fine, keigo. you don’t need to-”

“can’t hear you, give me about fifteen minutes and then we’ll get going”

you try to tell him no, that it’s fine and you can just eat pizza but he ignores you and still takes you out to eat

i’ll say it again: he’s so sweet :(((

he pays for the food and gives you his jacket when you get cold

he even treats you to some dessert !!

he also kisses you good night when he drops you off at your house <3

[sukirichi]

like crashing waves

Love comes to you like waves crashing upon one another.

REQUEST. mutual pining au + best friends to lovers + breeding kink 

CONTENT/WARNINGS. beach sex, unprotected sex, fingering, titty sucking, smut, nanami being a sweetheart <3 + the mandatory unedited note!

NOTES. thank you for requesting and joining the milestone event! I hope you like this <3

Your squeals echo as you run out of the car, arms flinging behind you with your best friend, Nanami, trailing behind you. His brows furrow upon seeing the familiar scenery of a light ultramarine sky, the sound of crashing waves calming upon his senses. His gaze falls on your waving form, figure jumping from the sand as you call out to him. Your smile is a lot brighter than the sun right behind you, and captivated, he follows your motions, his hands falling into the spaces between yours before allowing you to tug him closer to the beach.

“You brought me here,” he announces a little dazed, subconsciously gripping your hand tighter. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did!”

This isn’t just some regular beach. This is the place where the two of you first met when you were both little, awkward stubby legs running around the sand and scooping sand castles. As always, Nanami’s been more of a timid child, frowning at how you splashed on the water, uninterested with simpler tasks like the one he’s busy with.

When you see him silently enjoying himself, you trudge up to him. His hands immediately come up to protect his castle, having had his other friend Satoru kick and destroy them one too many times.

He’s surprised when you only gasp in awe, carrying your own plastic shovel and helping him build a bigger one afterwards. Your connection was natural – instantaneous.

Everything goes downhill from there. Despite living in another town, your family kept close contact, leading to you enrolling into Nanami’s middle school and staying solid all the way until he has to go attend Jujutsu High. He’s made it clear that he wishes to not be too attached to anyone or even get a wife, firm in his belief that he doesn’t want to hurt anyone by leaving a loved one behind. You, though? He makes an exception for you.

You’re his best friend and everything more, the one who pulled him away from being a salary man and telling him he could be capable of doing something wore instead of just fattening his bosses up while he does all the hard and honest work.

Nanami isn’t...cynical, per se, but he has a painfully honest outlook in his life while you’re more of the type to enjoy the little things, claiming that it’s never a sin to be happy despite the darkness looming. He’s been so used to you being a lot brighter and more cheerful than him, total opposites, really, that when the tables have turned and you’re the one holding his face as you scold him to save people and be the hero he is, he can’t really find it in himself to refuse.

Until now, he’s surprised you’re taking his profession extremely well. You never once blinked when he told you about his abilities and even takes away a fly head off your shoulder once, jumping in his arms instead to thank him.

He wonders how he ever came lucky enough to find someone like you, one that he actually cherishes more than he values the rules he’s set to keep himself in line.

Nanami doesn’t get the chance to think any more when you start stripping in front of him, your bubbling laughter syncing perfectly with the lapping of waves when you fling your clothes at him. He regrets ever letting you meet Gojo; you’re naughty, but never this pressing. His glare is half hearted as you run straight to the beach, however, and the blond man sighs.

His birthday was planned perfectly down to a tee. He’ll invite you over to celebrate, spend the silence and read books with you, have coffee, cuddle, and call it a day.

You had other plans in mind the moment you barged into his room though, dragging and pushing your friend all the way inside your car. His queries are silenced by the blasting radio, the man leaning back in his seat as his fingers tap against his thigh, wondering what you had in mind. There’s never really any telling with you and your spontaneous habits, so he just closes his eyes, allowing his blond hair to be swept away by the wind.

The last thing his wildest dreams could ever imagine is you taking him right back where everything started, his hands deft and careful as he unbuckles his belt. His cheeks tints a little because you never gave him the chance to pack, save for you throwing in hoodies and random underwear into a duffel bag.

Nanami folds both your clothes on the sand, shivering a bit from the chilly liquid. He glares at you once more with a tired sigh, about to ask how you have so much energy after driving for four hours straight when you splash water on him.

He is silent in comparison to your mocking laughter, waddling all around him until you’re whisking the water at every direction of his body.

Nanami stands there still like a statue, eyes closed to prevent the saltwater from hurting him, his hair sticking to his skin. His muscles are tense the whole while, preventing himself from just reaching over – not yet, anyway – for you were still too far away. But your guard is lowered, forgetting for a moment that your best friend is a jujutsu sorcerer and he’s spent years honing his senses until he’s mastered them to the extremity of his capabilities.

As your laughter grows closer, the splashing turning harder as it pads against his skin, Nanami opens his eyes and grabs you by your wrist hard.

You let out an ‘oop’ when he effortlessly pulls you into his chest, your forehead knocking against the solid muscles of his chest. “Ow!” you rub your forehead, lips formed into a pout and about to complain when your eyes snap wide open, the first thing in sight his pecs. Clearing your throat, you try to push yourself off him, suddenly completely aware of his warmth and his other hand sliding down your hip, lower, lower, and lower. “Nanami—”

“Having fun?”

His voice is low, a tinge of warning behind his words. Guiltily, you glance down at your wrist wrapped around his large, bony hand, noting the size and strength difference between the both of you.

You don’t want him to see you’re flustered – even if it’s painfully obvious already – so you snicker up at him, tilting your jaw upwards until he’s looking down straight at you. Nanami cocks an eyebrow in challenge, awaiting what snarky response would leave your lips when you smirk, using your free arm to splash on him one more time.

Nanami reels back when the water shoots straight in his eyes. Okay, you have to admit that maybe that was a little mean, but you’re having so much –

You’re immediately hoisted up into his arms, the water sliding off your body and the ground slipping off your feet. Panic rises in your system when you’re lifted off the seafloor, hands desperate and slippery as you cling onto his broad shoulders. “N-Nanami!” you protest, clinging to him like a koala when he only smirks, walking farther until he’s reached a spot he knows you can’t reach. “Hey, that’s cheating, put me down this instant!”

“Do you really want me to do that?”

Nanami knows you’ve surrendered to loss when you huff, leaving you with no choice but to wrap your legs around him tighter, nails subconsciously gliding down his back. He stiffens at your movements, brows furrowed as he ponders if bringing you here and rendering you helpless really is the best idea.

You’re pressed so close to him until space becomes nothing but a myth, your breathy intake of air wafting into his ear like bait. Nanami tightens his hold on your grip a bit, his swallowing audible at the feeling of your breasts pushed and flicking against his chest.

Fuck, of course you’re wearing your best bikini.

Nanami tries to push those lewd thoughts at the back of his head, drilling into his mind that you’re his best friend and you’re untouchable. He opts to stare beyond the horizon instead, train of thought too distracted of not letting himself be distracted by you that he doesn’t notice you pulling away to look at him.

He’s brought back to life when your wet palm caresses his cheek, thumbs smoothed over his cheeks. Nanami’s gaze flickers back to you, a sigh on his lips as he presses closer, daunting enough to leave a kiss on the crook of your palm.

That snaps something inside you.

You take his breath away – literally – as you cup his cheeks with both his hands, panting as you dove straight to his lips. Nanami’s reaction comes like reflex, both hands cupped under your ass as he meets your kiss with the same hunger and longing that has always been blossoming between the both of you the moment you both knew what love meant like.

Nanami’s groans are masculine and low when you begin to grind down on him, teasing as you push your breasts harder against his chest. Your nipples are hard enough that he feels the pebbled buds grazing across his chest, the sensation sending blood rushing to his cock.

He pulls away, cock swelling harder when he sees you all breathless with lips bruised. There’s something about knowing he’s the cause of you nearly falling apart like this, his mind wandering off a dangerous path at the fantasy of what you’d look like if he does something more.

The voice at the back of his head is responsible to keep him in his reigns, something he’s more than thankful of; otherwise he’ll completely ravage you senselessly at this moment.

“Do you really want our first time together to be out here in the open?” he rasps with short, quick pecks while you whine in his arms, the desire for that something more an aching and almost painful image on your face. “Won’t you like it more if we’re behind closed doors...” he brushes a thumb on your lip, coaxing your lips to part for him obediently. Nanami clenches his jaw when you eagerly suck at his thumb, your eyes dark and hazy with lust as you swirl your tongue around his digits. “...and I’d get to do whatever I want with you?”

“Are you going to hold back if we’re here?” you tease, popping his thumb off with a loud and wet pop. “It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? The sun is setting behind us and it’s just the two of us anyway,” your words are breathy, panted and needy in its manner of delivery. Really, you can’t think straight anymore, not when his fingers are grazing over the swell of your ass and his face is bathed by the golden glow. Right now is perfect. “I just really want to be with you.”

You shudder when Nanami finally tugs your underwear to the side, the feeling of his fingers smoothing over your inner thighs and just hovering right where you want him to be enough to make you go crazy. You’re shaking, panting, almost crying.

Who knows how long you’ve wanted him – you’re simply too impatient if he plans to take his time with you.

A demand is ready to fall from your lips to just get him to take you already, but Nanami beats you to it, his pointer finger grazing against your slit. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, gritting his teeth the moment his thick, long finger sinks into you beautifully. Your head falls back in a moan as he pumps his fingers inside, testing the waters, and your pleasure is only amplified with the struggle of him trying to quicken his pace under the sea. “You’re so wet already.”

“Shut up, I-I wasn’t—”

“You’re beautiful,” Nanami growls, taking you by surprise when he takes two fingers to spring the knots of your top away. You gasp when your top slides off at the curve off your breasts before your erect nipples are revealed all for him, hard and swollen while he inserts another finger in your heat.

Clutching harder on his shoulders and bouncing yourself off on his finger, Nanami’s self control is tethering dangerously across the edge.

He leans down to suck at your breasts dutifully, fighting against the water that’s surrounding you both. “You’re extremely beautiful,” he praises, “Thank you – for letting me have you this way, for trusting me,” An elongated groan falls from both your lips when he sinks you down on his cock, your heat a great and mind-numbing contrast to the chill of the water. “I think you’re the best birthday gift.”

“Always so romantic, Nanami,” you managed through a laugh, allowing him to fuck into you senselessly. You’re all over him, hands wrapped around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair and tongue swiping out to taste the saltiness of the water on his skin. He’s amazing, so fucking good, and you snap your eyes shut while the soft, crashing waves match the rhythm of his thrusts. “No one could blame me for falling for you.”

“You are?” he grasps your ass until he squeezes it hard enough to make your walls clamp down on him, your grunting muffled by the teeth nibbling his earlobe. “Do you love me?”

“For so long.”

Nanami smiles even if you can’t see it, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll just have to show you, make you feel the words and emotions weighing heavily at his heart. Nanami leans sideways to capture your lips in a wet kiss, hands heavy and harsh compared to his passionate kisses as he keeps bouncing you up and down his cock. He’ll just have to show you.

“I’ll make up for the lost time then.”

You’re wearing your favourite hoodie of Nanami’s as you stand before the counter, stirring both mugs with your hands wrapped around it to warm you up. After your lovemaking session that has turned into more than two rounds, you’re downright spent, the both of you too tired to drive back home and opting for a hotel instead.

The aroma of coffee along with Nanami’s scent lingering on his clothes brings a smile to your face, your heart and skin still fluttery from today’s event.

Just then, strong arms wrap around your waist, soft lips coming down to press at the apples of your cheeks. You giggle in his arms as Nanami sways you both side to side, his head resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he announces quietly, so softly and tenderly as if it’s a secret only you’re allowed to know. You already became aware of his feelings – he’s shown it enough – but hearing it come from his own lips feels different.

Growing up, you always believed that love would come to you rapidly, overwhelmingly. But as Nanami swoops down to kiss you once more, his lips tasting faintly of the cake you both got on the way, you realize love is more like the soft crashing waves that comes gradually, slowly, yet constantly until you’re surrounded and it consumes you whole. It buds and grows larger until the crashing waves expand into an ocean of feelings that can’t even comprehend the depth of what you feel him, and you kiss him hard, embrace him hard – you just want to show him.

[harryspet]

please don’t bite | p.parker, s.rogers, b.barnes

[Warnings] peter parker x reader, dark!steve x reader, hints of dark!natasha/dark!bucky x reader, vampire!steve/bucky/natasha, vampire au, vampire blood addiction, withdrawals, kidnapping, dubcon, intoxicated sex, oral sex (female recieveing)

A/N: hello, it’s been forever! I was in the middle of writing this when @cherienymphe announced her  “Cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge” so I decided to join in! She’s one of my favorite dark writers so please check her out if you haven’t. 

In which addiction leads you into a den of vampires. 

taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan

main masterlist

word count: 3.7k

You piled all the dollar bills you had in your pocket on the table, “There. We can just use this.” You plopped down beside your boyfriend on the couch, fully feeling the headache you’ve had for the past two weeks. It was like your brain was pounding against your skull and sending painful waves through your body. 

“This is twenty bucks and a … grocery store coupon for … shampoo,” After counting it, Peter flicked the money back onto the coffee table, leaning back with you. You tossed your legs over his lap and he wrapped his arm behind you, “So we have fifty bucks between us … great.”

“That’s enough, right?” You asked, barely able to hear yourself think through your headache. 

“It’s like two-hundred just for a small vial,” A shiver ran through your body and Peter pulled you closer. Not only did the heat not work in the shoebox you two called an apartment, you were starting to get random chills and it was another rough winter in New York. 

“Fuck,” You cursed, “Fuck, fuck-”

Peter shushed you, “We’ll be okay,” Peter said, trying to be strong for the both of you though his body was punishing him even more than yours was, “I got a gig by the pier, and by the end of the week, we should have enough.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you clutched his chest, “That’s too long. We’ll die before then.”

“We’ll be okay,” Peter insisted though he didn’t quite believe himself. 

Vampire blood was one cruel mistress. It was hard to remember your lives before you took your first sips of the addictive potion. You both had everything going for you, highschool sweethearts that became successful college students but that was all gone now. You can’t hold a job or go to school when you’re on vampire blood. The highs last hours and, when you have enough of it, weeks can go by without you noticing. 

“What was it like? Drinking from the vein?” You asked him, the taste of the blood was faint on your lips as you tried to remember the exact taste. 

Peter’s head tilted back as he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, “Like Heaven on earth. Like eternal life …. like nothing any normal human would ever feel. So good … jesus.”

Sometimes Peter wished he never introduced you to the taste but he’d forget all about it when you were high together. The sex was unbelievable, vampire blood being a strong aphrodisiac, and your love felt even stronger, “I want to try it,” You thought out loud, “If I’m gonna die soon, I-I wanna try it.”

“You’re not gonna die. Our brains are just totally miswired right now,” Peter groaned, turning his face towards yours. He kissed your forehead and, for a moment, it eased the pain. You tilted your head up to kiss the sides of his mouth. He tilted his head to the side and you kissed deeply. He pulled away suddenly and his eyes gazed into yours, “What would you do?”

“W-What?”

“What would you do to taste it from the vein?” You swallowed and your throat ached. 

You nodded your head, “Anything. Oh god, anything, Peter.”

You’d sensed he’d had an idea and a weak grin began to pull at your lips. That quickly fell as Peter pulled away from you. You expected him to be excited but he was completely solemn, “I have an idea,” He said, “You can say no … but if you don’t say no, you have to promise that things will be how they used to be afterwards.”

“How they used to be,” You couldn’t even think that far back. You couldn’t imagine a single date, single birthday card or New Year’s Eve kiss while you were in so much pain, “Sure, Pete. We just need a taste a-and that’ll clear our minds and things we’ll go back to how they used to be.”

+

As if things couldn’t get any worse, your stomach growled. You’d gotten dressed up, put on light makeup, and styled your hair for whoever Peter had taken you to meet. You didn’t quite care anymore because your headache continued to cripple you over the past few days. 

You pulled your jacket tighter as you waited on the steps of the gentrified brownstone. Peter pressed the doorbell nervously, watching as you shiver in your small, black dress. Peter dressed in his finest slacks and button down but was very aware that he probably wouldn’t be the center of attention tonight. He reached out to grab your hand which you happily took. 

“Why is he making us meet him so late?” You whispered, shivering. 

“He’s a vampire,” Peter shrugged, “They’re like nocturnal, I guess.”

Peter had reached out to ring the doorbell again when the door suddenly opened. A red headed woman opened the door, her hair cut short and a sultry smile on her face. You could tell instantly by the shine in her skin and darkness in her eyes that she was not like you. 

“Peter,” She greeted, smirking, “You look … hungry.”

“And cold,” He added, sensing your uncomfortableness as she took him in like he was her prey. 

“Right, come on in,” Peter led you inside the expensive home and out of the cold winter. You pressed yourself closer to him, not only because you were still shivering but because you’d never been alone with a vampire, “Steve will be here any moment.”

The woman led you down a corridor and you passed modern art sculptures and other expensive decorations you didn’t quite understand, “Steve?” You perked up at the mention of someone else. 

“That’s, uh, who we’re meeting,” Peter said quickly.

“Unfortunately, I’m booked tonight. A sweet young thing I met a few weeks ago. British accent, total dreamboat, but Steve will take great care of you two,” She led the two of you into a dining room where wine and horderves were laid out, gesturing for the two of you to take a seat, “Let me take your jackets.”

You looked at Peter and he nodded, “It’s okay,” Hesitantly, you slid off one of your sleeves and you felt her eyes begin to burn into the skin of your neck. Your arms weak, you lifted it out to her and she graciously accepted it. Peter did the same, taking a seat and waiting for you to do the same. Your eyes were still on the mysterious woman until Peter grabbed your hand. 

“I hope to see you both soon,” She smiled again, leaving the room, “Keep your eyes on this one, Pete.” 

You turned to him, your eyebrows raised, “How do you know her?”

“That’s her,” Peter said, grabbing the bottle of wine, “I told you about the first time I tried it from the vein. I think she has a thing for young guys. Or young anything.”

As he poured himself a glass, you reached out for a cracker and tried not to eat too fast as you pushed them into your mouth, “Why’d she look at me like that?” You asked, covering your mouth. 

“You’re a virgin,” You almost snorted, “I mean, your veins are. You’ve never been fed off of.”

“Oh,” You swallowed, taking his glass from him as you washed down your food, “I don’t wanna be. That’ll hurt, right?”

“Don’t worry, that’s not what we’re here for.”

Feeling some of your energy return, you stood up from the dining table, deciding to look closer at all the artifacts, “Y/N, what are you doing?” Peter asked, his fingers rubbing his temples, “Sit down, please.”

“Why do they have food if vampires don’t eat?” You asked out loud, annoying him further. There seemed to be a million framed pictures on the wall and you studied them as you passed along. They seemed to transform from black and white to fully in color, polaroid to digital. 

“For their human prey, probably.”

“Prey?” A deep voice spoke up, surrounding the room, bringing Peter out of his chair and your head turning quickly, “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Mr. Rogers,” Peter rushed out, and you wondered how he could muster up so much energy to be nice, “I didn’t mean …”

“No worries, I try to be polite but I am a blood sucking demon after all,” The blonde-bearded man smiled. He was so muscular, you’d pictured someone skinny and frail. “Won’t you introduce me to your …”

“Girlfriend,” Peter said a bit sadly. He wasn’t sad that you were his but that this was the saddest excuse for a date night, “This is Y/N.”

You raised a hand to wave but he crossed the room to take your hand. He kissed your knuckles, smiling charmingly as he looked into your eyes. Blue eyes, you weren’t expecting those either. Despite the porcelain skin he looked quite human. His suit was black, and his white shirt was pressed nicely beneath it, like he’d just returned from an important event. You smiled back weakly, “Pleasure to meet you, doll.”

“It’s … nice to meet you too.”

You felt Peter’s eyes on you as your hand fell back down to your side, “You two look like you’ve seen better days,” You moved closer to Peter because, despite his kind smile, you didn’t fully trust him. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Is it that obvious?” The nice clothes couldn’t hide the fact that they hadn’t had any vampire blood in almost three weeks. It was amazing that they were still standing. 

“I think I can help you both out,” Steve assured you two, “If you had enough of the horderves, you can follow me upstairs.” He turned and Peter grabbed your hand as you all left the room. 

“What exactly do we have to do … you know, for the blood?” Looking up at Peter, you worried that he was nervous for reasons that he was not telling you. Steve led you to the stairs and, as you climbed, you couldn’t help but look at all the photos that lined each wall. The upstairs wasn’t lit, making it feel like you were stepping into a story with a not-so-happy ending. 

“Peter didn’t tell you?” Steve asked, not bothering to turn around. He led you down the hall to what you assumed was the master bedroom. 

“Not everything,” Peter said quickly. 

You expected some kind of evil den but the room was quite normal. High ceilings, brown upholstered bed, a view of the neighborhood, and a fireplace. You and Peter stood awkwardly, looking around, as Steve made his way over to the fireplace. He leaned down to turn a dial and moments later, it sprouted with fire. 

“Peter,” You nudged him, your brows furrowed. He didn’t say anything which worried you more. Steve stood up, taking off his jacket which made your heart begin to race. Some of the fear disappeared quickly as he rolled up his white sleeves … exposing lower arms. 

Now, your mouth was watering, “There’s no need to worry, doll. I already promised Peter that no harm will come to the two of you. But you do understand that this is a trade? I give you my blood and you give me what I want.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted, “And what do you want?”

“I want to watch,” He stated, looking the two of you over, “I consider myself somewhat of a voyeur, I like to watch when people are intimate.” You looked back and forth from him to Peter. 

“Y/N, we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Peter spoke quietly, worry in his eyes. 

“Of course not,” Steve smiled, already a bit aroused by your shocked expression. He reached into his pocket to pull out a pocket knife, its handle having an old and intricate design, “But I think it’ll be very enjoyable on your side of things. The blood will certainly take the edge off and I won’t overstep my boundaries, I promise.”

“And we’re supposed to trust a vampire … ,” Steve stepped closer, pressing the knife to his skin. 

“We don’t have another option,” Peter said, his eyes focused on Steve’s vein. Peter let go of your hand, the addiction taking over as he moved closer to Steve. Steve cut into his arm, the crimson running down it but not a drop touched the floor before Peter pressed his lips to the wound. 

When Peter pulled away, his head tilted all the way back, as the sweet serum traveled down his throat. You were still staring in shock, the scent reaching your nose, and drawing you further in. It took everything in you to keep your feet planted and your fingernails dug into your palm as you watched. 

Peter smiled, blood on his lips and mouth, “Y/N,” He drawled, “Please, taste it …” He walked towards you, his hands outstretched. The blood on his lips, you could smell it, and you wanted to taste it so bad that it was hurting you. When he leaned into your lips, you didn’t stop him. His tongue entered your mouth and you felt the high he was feeling. 

Your vision began to blur a little as your head tilted back. Peter’s hands were holding you steady as the biggest smile spread across your lips. It was like tasting heaven, something beyond reality and you wanted to never let that supernatural feeling go. 

You felt a foreign hand against your back but you felt like welcoming any touch under the influence of the drug. As Peter pulled his lips away from you, your eyes opened to Steve’s as he was offering you his wrist. With the taste already on the tongue, you gladly accepted more, Peter’s hands roaming over your body as you drank. 

You weren’t sure how you made it to the bed, it felt like you had floated. Peter was right, he was so right, were all the words you could think. You heard those words, felt Peter’s hands, and watched as Steve’s lips turned into a mischievous smile. 

Steve stepped away, the cut on his arm already healing, as he made himself comfortable in a lounging chair by the fireplace. He had to give it to the kid, he seemed to know your body much better than he expected for a guy his age. Either that, or you couldn’t tell what was what at the moment and it was all just pleasure in your glazed over eyes. 

Your head tilted to the side so Steve could analyze every detail of your face. Your dress was pulled down at the top and the bottom rolled up past your stomach. Peter held your legs firmly, biting and kissing your thighs as he made himself comfortable between your legs. 

“God, I fucking love you,” Steve smiled at Peter’s words. Your back arched up as he finally pushed your panties aside, tasting your warm center, “You smell so good. You taste so good.”

You cried out his name, biting down on your bottom lip, and Steve imagined you accidentally drawing blood.  You wouldn't have noticed, there was already blood dripping down your chin. Steve liked how loud you were, he didn’t like the girls that held everything in, and he liked even more how Peter took your mewlings as encouragement to lap at you faster. 

“Fuck,” You cursed, gripping the sheets tightly. Steve felt his pants begin to tighten though he promised himself he would wait, “Fuck, fuck!” You finally came and Peter crawled up your body in order to kiss you on your lips. 

He fumbled with his belt and Steve felt his desperation to be inside you. He was still slow with you when he finally entered you, much more patient than Steve imagined he would be. He kept things slow so you could adjust. He made love to you, kissing your neck, “Is that good?”

You nodded eagerly, “Y-Yeah! Like that …. I love that, Petey. Feels so good … feels so good.”

It was more than ecstasy. The blood mixed with the love of your life, you thought you might cry knowing that no other feeling could compare. 

+

Steve watched the young lovebirds through several rounds and several different positions, your stamina never seeming to run out. Like any other drug, the high relieved the side effects but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, you and Peter floated to sleep. 

You slept through the entire morning and you thought you’d wake in Peter’s arms. You could face any shame and guilt if you were with him but, when your heavy eyes finally opened, you were alone. Your palm against your head, you sat up in the bed, a little bit of sun creeping through the curtains. Looking down, you were completely naked most likely from last night's escapades. 

You felt dirty, for more than one reason. “Peter,” You whispered, stepping out of the bed to look for your dress. Covering your chest, you kneeled down to check beneath the bed, “Peter.”

You breathed heavily, trying to push down your anxiousness as you struggled to find your clothes. When the door of the room opened, you panicked, grabbing ahold of the comforter and pulling it against your body. 

It wasn’t Peter or Steve but a dark haired man, abnormally muscular for a vampire just like Steve. He tilted his head as he looked at you, “Where’s Peter?” You asked immediately. 

“Who?” He raised an eyebrow, shutting the door, “Ohhh, Peter. Right. The boyfriend.”

“Where’s Peter and who are you?” You continued, your eyes wide with fear. Bucky ran his hand over his beard before folding his arms over each other. 

“I’m Steve’s … friend,” You began to recognize him from all the photos, “There’s a few of us who share this house, you know. And I heard you all last night, I asked Steve if I could join the fun but sitting on the sidelines is a bit boring to me.” 

You didn’t care, “If you’re not gonna tell me where Peter is-”

He rolled his eyes, “He’s with Natasha I think. He woke up still craving. Are you craving something too, dollface?”

“Nothing from you,” You shook your head though the idea of his bleeding wrist did pop into your brain, “I-I need to see him.”

“Be my guest. Are you going naked?” You scowled at him, “Go clean up first, please. There should be something for you to wear in the bathroom.”

The two of you stared awkwardly until Bucky realized you weren’t going to move until he left the room, “Fine,” He raised his hands in defeat, “They always get shy in the morning.” He mumbled to himself as the door shut. You quickly hurried to the bathroom, shutting and locking it. 

Why the hell was Peter with Natasha? She’d look at him like she wanted to devour him, in a completely non-vampire kind of way. And he’d left you all alone for that man to find you. Sure, you’d done things last night you weren’t proud of but he’d promised that things would go back to normal after. 

You freshened up in the sink, throwing on a night blue, silk nightgown. You had to scrub the dry blood off of your lips and your inner thighs and you were forced to relive the night. Everything was perfect but as soon as you thought about who watched and probably got off to it, you only felt guilty. You felt even more guilty that you were craving more blood. 

The room was empty when you stepped back into it. Tip toeing over to the bedroom door, you made sure to check to see if the coast was clear before stepping out into the hallway. You thought you could find Peter, snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and take the two of you home even if you had to carry him out on your back. 

“Natasha warned me to keep an eye on you,” He appeared in front of you so suddenly that a small shriek left your lips. You backed up quickly only to run into another tall figure. 

“Bucky, you’re going to hurt her,” Steve warned, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. 

Bucky smirked, “No blood, no foul.”

“You say that now.”

You stepped away from both of them, your back pressing against the nearest wall, “Would you like breakfast, doll?” Steve asked, catching you off guard. 

“You should get something on your stomach, doll,” Bucky seemed to mimic Steve’s concerned nature which caused Steve to press his lips into a frustrated, thin line. 

“Where. Is. Peter? I want to go home.”

“He’s-”

Bucky interrupted him, “You can’t go home.”

“Buck-”

“There’s no use in sugarcoating it,” Bucky stepped closer, resting his arm above you, “We need new blood bags and it’s not like you guys have much to go back to.” 

“We’re not blood bags-”

“We’re all blood bags,” Bucky chuckled, “You guys need us too. Anyways, it’s not a request. Steve is just nicer than me but we’re all going to take what we want.”

You slipped away from him, your feet pushing you even though you knew you were faster. The only reason Bucky didn’t chase after you was because of Steve, “Peter!” You called out, running down the hall, “Peter!” You frantically opened each door you walked past until you got to the end of the hallway. 

When you stormed in, you found him shirtless, sprawled on a bed. Natasha, in a robe, was in front of a vanity, brushing through her red hair. You hurried over to the bed, grabbing a hold of his shoulders, “Peter, we have to get out of here.”

He smiled, softly grabbing ahold of your arm, “My love, you’re so beautiful, you know that?” He was so high that you weren’t even sure if he was really seeing you. 

Tears pricked your eyes, “You promised, Peter. You promised.”

He shushed you, “It’s okay, just give me a few … hours. We’ll be … okay.”

You felt hands on your waist that you didn’t fight. She brushed a piece of hair from your face, touching your cheek with her freezing hand, “I knew you’d like her, Buck. They're both so perfect,” Natasha guided you away from the bed and towards the door where the other two vampires were standing, “So who gets the first bite?”

“Steve’s had his fun. She’s mine tonight.” 

+

hope you enjoyed that fun little one-shot!

[saintshigaraki]

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k 

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

       also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work 

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do. 

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair. 

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.  

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days. 

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen. 

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend. 

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder. 

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm. 

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved. 

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) . 

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now. 

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably. 

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time. 

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling. 

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did. 

“You’re a shit cook,” he says. 

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before. 

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work. 

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly. 

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired. 

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables. 

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist. 

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out. 

“I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears. 

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart. 

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.  

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems. 

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint. 

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story. 

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him. 

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.  

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.” 

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure. 

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness. 

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you. 

But it’s also true. 

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said. 

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion. 

+

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves. 

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order. 

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki. 

And that’s okay, you tell yourself. 

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees. 

You look down at your phone. 

33 missed calls from Katsu 

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe. 

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home. 

+

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk. 

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry. 

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery. 

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face. 

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him. 

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it. 

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end. 

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you. 

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you. 

“Do you love me, Katsuki?” 

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him. 

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness. 

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly. 

+

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be. 

[yandere-sins]

My Name

Horrortober Day 6: Time “How long has it been?”  

Oh man, first Xiao piece and I??? Really enjoyed it???? When will he come home, I’m desperate for my lovely boy ;;

Warnings: Yandere, Twisted Thoughts, Fighting/Death of monsters, Planning of Kidnapping Characters: Xiao x Reader

How long has it been?

It felt like Xiao waited forever for you to call him. He would have loved to deny that he waited for it… but he did. Ever since he told you to call when you needed him, he had been waiting—hoping!— you would, rather sooner than later. If only he could get a good look at you again, he would feel prepared enough to face his duties again. You were the beacon of light in his life, no matter how harsh he spoke to you or faked disliking you. Your job wasn’t any more dangerous than any other in this world, making you travel back and forth cities to sell your merchandise there. You needed someone who could help you if things went downhill. 

You needed Xiao. 

His fingers were still tingling from the feeling of your body as he held you. Even when you squirmed and flinched in his arms as he defeated the monsters bothering you, you were warm and soft, and you smelled like dirt- But the good kind! Xiao didn’t know how else to describe it. You’ve been on the road for a long time, showers weren’t your priority probably, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. You were perfect just as you were.

And finally, you called. Or rather, screamed into the disappearing sun on the horizon, for Xiao to come and save you. You fulfilled the promise to ask for his help any time, and he fulfilled his by coming to your rescue. No matter how weak he felt, how much he wanted to vomit at the sight of more and more foes arriving. With you, weakly as you were, leaning into his chest, avoiding your eyes from the death and fight, he would have defeated armies of Hilichurls if necessary. All while holding you, never letting go of his precious sun. 

The toll on his body was tremendous, his breathing ragged. Still, standing in the middle of disappearing corpses, Xiao was victorious. For you. For both of you. He turned his head to look at you, the disheveled hair slick with sweat out of fear and flight instinct. You weren’t made for the outdoors; not as long as they were cruel and dangerous. You wouldn’t have come out of this attack unscathed if not for him. 

Letting go of his weapon, he petted over your head, pushing it down and combing out some leaves. He knew he was rough around the edges, unfit for gentle comfort. But if he could help your shivering to wane, he would have tried anything. You once showed kindness to him; he had to repay it. 

Helping you towards a big stone out in the open, you two were stumbling over your feet while you grew wary, looking up and realizing there was no fight anymore. But Xiao wasn’t about to let you go, much less leave you alone right away. He’d stay. It’s been too long, and the temptation to be close to you too big.

Making you sit down, you folded like a sack of potatoes before regaining some composure. You were fidgeting with your ripped sleeves, avoiding looking up at the dark matter rising to the sky from the dead Hilichurls. Instead, you looked at him, studied him, his hair, expression, the hands that tried to desperately be gentle as they searched for wounds on your body. Xiao didn’t mind. You could stare as much as you wanted at him as long as he didn’t have to respond to it. Silently, he was begging you to look more at him. Just… a little more. Look at him as if he was your hero.

Edgy, you called him after bothering him at the balcony of the Wangshu Inn. No one allowed you to be there; Xiao didn’t want to have company that night. But you couldn’t sleep, and sitting on the roof appeared to be a better alternative than turning in your bed to you. He told you he hated your presence, and you laughed, saying it was fine. Fine. How could it be fine? You told him about your business and your family even though he never asked, and then you asked about him and his past. He… he had been weak. That night, he had fought and conquered and been incredibly weak afterwards. So he told you, and you laughed again, telling him how edgy he was before leaving him behind, confused and irritated by your words.

The next day, you brought Almond Tofu and left him a note, thanking him for sticking with you and be honest.

He didn’t forget about you ever since.

Even Xiao felt stupid for seeing you off when your stay ended. He had no business meddling with you or anyone in your world, but now that he finally saw you again, he was furious for letting you go. What he should have done was hold you back, make you stay longer. But when you thanked him for offering his help, smiling at him so kindly, he let go of your arm, and gone you were. Only to end up battered and bruised, just like he feared.

“How long has it been?” he asked, dragging his finger over a bruise that wasn’t fresh anymore. It was at least two or three days old, yet, no tint lighter than as if it happened just now. Instantly, his throat was clogged with guilt. And though his question wasn’t about the bruise, you answered honestly, confirming the two days he assumed.

“I meant, how long has it been since someone called for me,” he corrected himself in a mumble, a question you were in no place to answer. Years. Decades. So long, he didn’t remember the last time. But now, you did. You. The person he wanted to answer to. Only, he was too late anyway—he couldn’t protect you either.

“You need to be treated,” he worried with a stern face. Anger flitted over his features as you shook your head, wiping away the tears of panic you had produced. “What I need is to get to Mondstadt,” you argued. Thick-headed. Stubborn. A thick-headed, stubborn, weak human, that’s what you were. That’s what you were supposed to be, but his heart throbbed painfully as he cursed you in his mind. Not even his body wanted to think badly about you, much less Xiao himself.

“No,” he denied your idea firmly, placing his arm around your shoulder and hooking the other under your knees. There it was again, that tingling sensation that overcame him when he touched you. You were squirming some more against his actions before you tensed in pain. Bruises would heal. Cuts would close. But if there was something internally, something Xiao could not see, then he didn’t know how to help you. It was him who was pathetic, still knowing nothing about the humans he was protecting silently from the shadows. He was pathetic because he denied getting close to them, fearing they’d make him weak.

And he had been right. You made him weak. Weak in the knees, weak in his head. Gone was his keen mind and tough body. Now there was only the invested, curious, worrying Xiao. Xiao at his worst, and he hated himself for it. Seeing you hurt and in pain made him want to be strong even more. So he could protect you when you would call his name. But he wasn’t sure if you would after he already let you down.

Xiao knew everything about the lands around you. He knew where the closest doctor was, and he’d get you to them and then… then what?

Gnawing at his lip as he waited for you to get better, he stood there in silence, clothed in the darkness of the room you were offered to rest that night. There had to be something he could do. Something only he could do for you. He didn’t have the leisure of traveling like you, and he wasn’t a human that could join you easily either. But he was strong if you didn’t warp his head into the miserable state he found himself around you. He could protect you, but how would he do it?

There needed to be a plan soon. The sun was rising, the day promising to be beautiful for travels. And you would want to go. Because as wondrous and loveable as you were, you were also stubborn and weak. Duty-bound, like him. But both of you couldn’t share this trait, not when he wanted to keep you from danger instead of making you rush headfirst into it. One of you had to compromise, and as the sun was setting, Xiao realized something else.

If he was strong, and you were not. He, an important Adeptus, and you, another human between so many, then you needed to be put back into your place. A place of safety. Somewhere close to him. It was a stretch to assume other Adepti would help him, but they could create realms. Safe realms he could carry with him. Even if he didn’t know how to wager with them, much less address the issue, he knew they played a vital part in the role of keeping you safe. He was almost jealous.

Xiao looked back at you sleeping soundly, your chest falling and rising under the blanket. Bandages were all over your body. The doctor made sure you knew the risk you had taken, traveling alone and vulnerable and enduring injuries you should have gotten checked up. You were careless and ignorant to the dangers of the world, even though, deep inside you, Xiao imagined you were just as scared as anyone else. It would be nice, right? If he could take this fear from you. Keep you safe and sound and with him at all times. He’d do you a favor.

A future without worries and fear, the dream of so many of your kind.

Stepping up to your bedside, he reached out to your forehead, remaining still as you furrowed your brows when you noticed his warmth, but then you relaxed again. Maybe you knew it was him. Maybe, deep down in your dreams, it was him who made you feel safe right now. Xiao wished he was. Still, he disappointed you, but he wouldn’t do it again. He’d make sure that you wouldn’t have to be in pain and scared anymore. For you, and only you, he’d do it.

Letting his hand slip down your face, his fingertips brushed over your cheek and to your lips, his touch lingering a second too long to be appropriate. Flinching away, he scolded himself for touching you there, pink flushing his cheeks as he shook his head. He was busy; there were preparations to be made.

Leaving behind Mora, he had no use for, and a note to the doctor, he told them to keep you as long as they could. Knowing where you were would make his life easier, even though he wouldn’t leave a stone unturned and a monster alive if he had to search for you. There were no lengths he wouldn’t have taken for you. The thought scared him because he didn’t know how to handle this feeling that burned inside of him at the mere thought of you. But it scared him even more to see you like last night, and he wasn’t sure his heart could take it if it happened again.

No, he couldn’t let it happen again.

How long had it been since someone called his name? One night. The next time you’d call for him, how would it sound? Sweet? Affectionate? Thankful? Praising him for his work and dedication for you, accepting his snide remarks, and laughing at him again with that kind voice of yours? He couldn’t know it yet. But with a jump in his step, he would have never thought it could be the complete opposite.

Angry. Scared. Horrified.