#how do I get this more notes I promise you will love it

[yoomiwrites]

We won⁴

Summary: The war is won, yet you lost too much. Between friendship and love, what will you—what will Ekko—pick?

Note: Don't worry, although part 4 still got this kind of vibe, I promise (do I?) that the next chapter will get more of a soft vibe. As a reader it probably sucks to get short chapters, but for me it's nice for the flow (hah), so please be patient as you'll get the next chapter tomorrow and the (probably) final one at friday!

Ekko spotted you from a distance, your figure unmistakable as you walked alongside someone he didn’t recognize. The two of you were laughing, the kind of light, carefree laughter he hadn’t heard from you in a long time. You looked happy, your arm brushing against the guy’s as he leaned closer to speak.

Ekko froze, his heart sinking. This was the person Vi had mentioned. This was your date.

His first instinct was to turn away. He felt like an intruder, his chest tightening with emotions he couldn’t name—jealousy? Regret? Guilt? The image of you with someone else twisted something deep inside him.

He watched as you smiled, a smile he’d seen a thousand times before but that now seemed distant. A smile meant for someone else.

For a long time, Ekko had told himself that his heart was elsewhere. He thought of Powder often, of the fleeting connection he’d felt with her in that alternate dimension. That kiss, those memories—they’d kept him tethered to the past. But now, standing here, watching you laugh and move on, something inside him shifted.

This wasn’t about Powder.

This was about you.

Here. Now.

You had been the one by his side. The one who had fought for him, cared for him, even when he couldn’t see it. And he had taken you for granted, too wrapped up in his own world to realize what you meant to him.

And now it might be too late.

He clenched his fists, torn between running to you and leaving before you saw him. How could he ruin this for you? After everything you’d been through, everything you’d done for him, you deserved to be happy. And if this person made you happy, how could he stand in the way?

But it hurt. It hurt more than he thought it would, realizing what he wanted only now that he might have lost it.

As you and your date disappeared around a corner, Ekko stayed rooted to the spot, a weight settling over him. He didn’t know how he could face you now, not without his feelings spilling over. But one thing was clear: he couldn’t keep pretending that you didn’t matter to him.

You weren’t just a friend. You were everything. And it was time he started acting like it—even if it meant letting you go.

[hottiesforhockey]

ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal

🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note:  this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list

(unedited)

“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”

You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”

“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”

It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.

So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.

You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”

“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”

What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.

Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”

You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”

The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. 

One day, he thought. 

One day he’d tell you the truth.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.

“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.

Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”

“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”

“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”

You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”

“I’ll let you know when it starts.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.

As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.

“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”

“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”

“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.

“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”

“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”

“And how’s that?”

“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”

The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.

Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.

“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”

You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.

As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum. 

He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.

“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.

“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”

It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol? 

Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift. 

“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”

You didn’t. 

You couldn’t.

 Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.

“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.

“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.

Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.

When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.

“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours. 

“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour. 

“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head. 

“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.” 

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.

“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.

This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.

You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”

You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.

The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”

His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”

The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.

Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.

When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.

His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.

“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”

Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.

“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.

You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”

That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.

One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra. 

“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans. 

“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form. 

“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again. 

“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you. 

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat. 

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out. 

He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room. 

“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan. 

“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly. 

“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly,  lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly. 

“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours. 

“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back. 

“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out. 

You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house. 

+

+

Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.

Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache. 

You fucked your best friend. 

And then you ditched. 

What if this ruined everything? 

What if he regretted it? 

You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;

Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay? 

Matty ♥️:  I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk? 

Matty ♥️:  I know you’re reading these, please answer me. 

Matty ♥️:  I miss you. 

Fuck. 

+

+

Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.

 He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.

He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head. 

What were you sorry for? 

Leaving? 

Crossing the line between friends? 

Or something more?

Matty ♥️: I miss you. 

His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago. 

No response. 

Again.

“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.

Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.

The silence was driving him insane.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.

The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility. 

What if you didn’t want to see him? 

What if this was it? 

What if you hated him for what happened?

But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore. 

He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.

When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.

But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.

Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”

You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.

The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”

And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.

Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”

That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear. 

You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.

His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”

“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?” 

The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.

You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.” 

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”

[goingmerryfics]

HELLO!!! sorry if I request again because I really like how you write😔👊, I come with another request, something that I saw once in a fanfic and I loved the idea, it could be any other character you want but I see it more in Sanji (don't let it be obvious that I'm a Sanji lover HAHAH) well the issue is discovering that the character always carries with him a photo of gn!reader, whether it is a photo of them or the wanted poster of gn!reader

Carrying My Love With Me - Sanji, Shachi, Bartolomeo

Content: SFW, these boys are in love with you, strawhat reader in Barto’s, only Sanji’s is an explicit established relationship

Notes* Noooo please don’t apologize I love getting engagement :D and I finally get a prompt that I feel is perfect for my boy Barto!!

Sanji

Sanji is not shy at all about his picture of you that he keeps in his jacket pocket

He absolutely adores looking at you and your cute face, so when he has any excuse to pull that picture out, he does

He’ll use your photo to brag about you to other men all the time, claiming that you’re all his

That photo would always be in pristine condition, never letting anyone take it from him and making sure it doesn’t get destroyed after a battle

He would also pull it out anytime when he feels down, using your face as motivation in his dark times- even if it’s just him sulking over something

He takes out the photo while he’s cooking and sets it somewhere in sight. He talks to himself a lot as he cooks, so having your photo there makes him feel a little less silly

He promises your photo that he’s making this meal with love, and that he wishes he could share it with you

He does get a little embarrassed the next time he sees you and the crew rats on him about the photo, though

But after you’re reassurance that you think it’s sweet, he melts in your arms all over again, just like he always does

Shachi

What Shachi keeps with him is a picture of the two of you together

He hides it in his pillowcase, not wanting anyone to find it and make fun of him

He’s weirdly sensitive about the crew thinking he’s soft or something

But when you’re not around, it’s nice to have a piece of you nearby to hang onto

He pulls it out when he’s alone just to look at you- to study your eyes and the shape of your nose with a goofy little smile on his face

When people are around or he just wants to hold onto something while he’s lying down, he’ll put his arm into his pillow case and just hold onto the picture with his eyes closed, picturing you beside him, pretending he’s got you in his arms

Shachi is a romantic, he’s just too ashamed to admit it

The day Penguin is on laundry duty, he finds it and teases his friend relentlessly about it, holding it up in the dining hall and loudly proclaiming that he didn’t know his best friend had a girlfriend, and how could he not share this information?

A lot of chaos ensues, and after some teasing he snatches it back possessively

Bartolomeo

With you being a Strawhat, of course he’s got your wanted poster hung up in his room!

Luffy and his crew are his number one, and he loves Luffy, but you and him definitely had a special kind of relationship

Anytime you two meet, there’s always flirting involved

More from you than him, because he’s losing his mind with each compliment and sexual innuendo that comes out of your mouth

He didn’t expect that when he’d met you at first and went wild, swearing up and down that he’d do anything you asked just to hear your heavenly voice speaking like that again

So that picture is special to him, and he ends up fawning over it quite often- especially whenever he feels like he misses you

He rants to the crew all about how much he loves you to anyone that will lend him an ear (and to those who don’t, as well if there are anyone like that on the crew)

You make sure to sign it next time

[bambisspeckles]

Trapped ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader -- Part Two

A continuation of Stowaway...

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: Your first day aboard the 141 CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance w reader yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), implied ghoap (its such a small implication I'm sorry) self-edited! WC: 1.9k

Sleep escapes you through the night. The cellar is small and uncomfortable, at times the ship gets rocked so hard you get tossed around, and the wooden floorboards are hard and splintered. You lay there, curled up into a ball, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. It's cold and you're so hungry you can almost hear your stomach growling over the sound of waves crashing against the ships hull. You feel pathetic and weak, and you only have yourself to blame for the predicament you're in. At the very least you should have been offered some food or a spare blanket, a thought that in retrospect is foolish. These aren't gentlemen, they're pirates. They take and pillage until they can take and pillage no more.

You lay there for hours, staring into the darkness with only the sound of the ocean to keep you company. Your eyes are heavy but you can only sleep for a few minutes before you are, quite literally, jolted into consciousness. You go through this back and forth battle for hours until the door opens and morning light shines through the frame. Gaz steps through, his eyes widening in panic when he sees you on the floor.

"Jesus fuckin'- Are you alright? Are you sick? God n' you're shivering…" He rushes to your side, giving you a once over before attempting to place the back of his hand on your forehead. You flinch away from his touch and he awkwardly scrunches his before moving his hand away.

"I'm… I'm fine." You say, you lie. You know he doesn't believe you but you're not sure you care.

"M' sure you're famished, I can bring you somethin' to eat." At the thought of food your stomach growls and Gaz chuckles, shaking his head at you softly. "I'll bring you something love."

As he stands from the ground and turns back towards the entrance, you reach out to grip his wrist, pulling his attention towards you once more. He tilts his head at you curiously, brows slightly furrowed as he waits for you to speak.

"I… Can I leave here, please? It's not like I can run off anywhere and it's stuffy in here." Gaz bites his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'm not sure, Captain hasn't really been clear on what exactly he wants to do with you. Honestly I think it's best you stay here till we dock tomorrow. That way at least you'll be out Price's line of fire… And out of Soap's paws, and it's definitely in your best interest that we keep you away from Ghost." You wince at the mention of Ghost, you swear you can see his dark hooded eyes everytime your eyes close.

There's a part of you that wants to fight back against Gaz, but you know that he's honestly working in your best interest, which you're both suspicious of and grateful for. Instead you decide to back down, sucking your bottom lip in and nodding obediently.

"Okay… Okay, I'll stay."

Gaz smiles at you pitifully, something you wish he'd stop doing. His sympathetic smiles don't free you from this cellar, or from this ship you've foolishly trapped yourself on.

"I'll bring you something to eat," He pauses, noting the curled up position you're in. "And some blankets. We should have done that last night, sorry." He gives you one last sheepish look before turning on his heels, once again leaving you alone.

You're getting antsy.

Gaz has been gone for, well you're not sure exactly how long, but it feels like it's been quite awhile since he promised you food and blankets. You're getting light headed, and pairing that with the cold just isn't helping. Anxiously, you look back and forth between the cellar door and the splintered wooden floor, the idea of just going above deck and looking for Gaz yourself rolling around like a marble in your head. It's a bad idea, you know it is, but your stomach is so painfully empty that you feel ill, and you don't think there are anymore goosebumps to be raised on your skin. You mull over the options in your head.

One, stay in the cellar and hope Gaz hasn't forgotten about you. Or two, leave the cellar and possibly run into the Captain, or worse, Ghost.

Bumping into Johnny wouldn't be so bad. I mean sure, his stares linger too long and that toothy grin of his is less than inviting, but at least he won't throw you overboard when he sees you. At least you think he won't. After a few more minutes of waiting and suffering, you decide to head up to the deck and look for Gaz. You don't know how much longer you can wait for him to come back before you pass out. So, on very wobbly legs, you push yourself off the ground and make your way to the cellar door.

The sun blinds you as the door opens, the smell of the sea smacking you in the face. Truthfully, the bite of the chilly air is refreshing after be locked in that stuffy cellar, despite how cold you are. You climb the steps all the way to the main deck, quickly taking in your surroundings. No one seems to be out on the deck which is both good and bad news for you. As much as you'd like to find Gaz, you're not too sure how the Captain would feel about you aimlessly wandering about the ship, especially when you're sure he doesn't want you on it to begin with. Your stomach growls and you slowly walk towards the ships railing, gently draping your upper half over it, the mist from the waves hitting your face. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of the ocean. You take a moment to breathe, to process. Your stomach growls in protest at your lack of movement, but you can't bring yourself to care much when this is the first time in hours you've been able to breath the fresh sea air. You're fighting the urge to drift off when suddenly you're yanked backwards by the waist.

You let out a squeal, you're body flailing as you attempt to loosen the grasp of whichever crew member grabbed you.

"Stop bloody movin'." The voice practically barks out.

"Oh." You think wryly, your body going still.

Once again Ghost had been the one to catch you. How cruel, he was the last person you were wanting to run into.

Ghost flips you to face towards him, his body somewhat pining you against the railing. It vaguely crosses your mind that if he wanted to throw you off the ship, now is this most opportune time for him to do so.

"Wha' are ya doin' out your cage." You furrow your brows at the word 'cage'. Sure, there may be a part of you that does agree it feels like a cage, but it's not. Pets go in cages and you're no pet.

"It's not a cage…" You mumble, lip pouted and brows still furrowed. "And I didn't- I was going to stay in the cellar but Gaz never came back."

Ghost cocks his head slightly, the movement voicing his obvious confusion.

"Gaz never came back for wha'?" The way he asks sends shivers down your spine and you have no idea how he can make such a simple question sound so dark and sinister. You swallow thickly, eyes darting away from his.

"He was going to bring me food and some blankets." Your voice is quiet, timid as you speak to him.

Ghost only grunts in response before grabbing your wrist, rather tightly you may add, and dragging you god knows where. He drags you down a short hallway before stopping in front of a door. Behind it, you think you hear voices, and your suspicions are confirmed when Ghost swings the door open and you're greeted by the faces of the three other men.

"Aye, well would ye look at tha'!" Soap is the first to speak, a nasty grin plastered on his face. "Was just wonderin' what ye were up to kitten." You grimace at the pet name, something you know he finds amusing when he chuckles under his breath.

Before you have a chance to speak, Ghost pushes you further into the room before shutting the door behind him. Price gives Ghost an expectant look, before his eyes dart towards you. He takes that as his queue to speak, his grip still tight on your wrist.

"Found er' sniffin' round' on the deck." Ghost states simply, his voice rough and gravelly.

"I was not "sniffing' around anywhere! I told you, I was simply-" Before you have a chance to finish speaking, the Captain interrupts you.

"Stowaways don't speak out of turn." Price's words are laced with something dark and dominating, the aura of them shutting you up with a quiet whimper.

His eyes scan your face, jaw ticking thoughtfully before he sighs, leaning forward on his desk and putting his weight on his elbows.

"Why were you on the deck?" In the short time you've been here, and with the very limited interactions you have had with Captain Price, you have some understanding that when he asks a question, he wants an answer, and he wants it quickly.

"I- I was looking for Gaz." You mumble curtly, your eyes darting around the room to avoid eye contact with Price.

All eyes turn to Gaz, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Me? Did you need somethin' love?" You chew on your bottom lip, nodding softly at him.

"I'm hungry, and rather cold… You said you'd be back but you never came." Gaz looks even more confused than before, his brows dipping further down his face.

"Soap didn't bring you some food and blankets?" He asked.

You shake your head at him again.

"Um, no? Was he supposed to?" Gaz rolls his eyes, turning his head towards Soap who's rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"I told you to bring her the stuff I gave you," His voice raised slightly. "You've left the poor girl starving and cold."

Soap chuckles awkwardly, his eyes darting towards Ghost.

"I ken! I ken… Jus' got a bit distracted." Gaz groans at the implication. "Dinnae hate me too much for it." Soap then turns towards you, crowding you against a wall.

"M' sorry kitten, didnae mean tae forget about ye… Can ye forgive me?" And something about the way he asks makes you fidget.

You squirm against him in an attempt to break free from his grasp, but all he does is smirk and press harder. After a moment of your struggle, the Captain clears his throat.

"Alrigh' nough' of that Soap." The scotsman chuckles softly before finally moving away from you. Price stands from his desk, prompting the whole room to look at him, including you. "Dinner is soon. S' Ghost's night for cookin' so you, stowaway, you'll join us for supper."

His eyes scan the room quickly before nodding towards the door.

"Everyone out of my room."

As fast as he gave the order, everyone was out, standing outside his room like lost cattle. You feel a hand on the small of your back, and when you look behind you, you see Gaz.

"Dinner will be ready soon, just hold out a bit longer. I'll grab ya some blankets to keep ya cozy while waiting." He smiles softly at you and to your surprise, you smile back, an involuntary movement that has him giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

He leads you back to the cellar and once you're alone again you have only one thought.

"I hope Ghost doesn't poison my food."

[starrrcane]

The Underworld Beneth Piltover Chapter four:The Quiet Declaration

sevika x reader

Takes place in pre-season one

summary: sevika comes to borrow a book from you and ends up realizing maybe she wants to be more then friends and panics

warning: gay panic.

notes: Please don’t forget this is taking place before season one‼️ I love you guys stay safe during the holiday seasons xoxox

The faint knock on your apartment door startled you. You had just gotten home after a long shift, eager to sink into the couch and let the exhaustion melt away. Setting your bag down, you hesitated. You weren’t expecting anyone.

“Who is it?” you called, a trace of unease creeping into your voice.

“It’s Sevika,” came the familiar voice on the other side.

Your shoulders relaxed immediately, a soft smile tugging at your lips. Sevika. Of course. She hadn’t been at work today, and you’d caught yourself missing her presence—a fact you weren’t quite ready to admit even to yourself.

You opened the door, finding her standing there. Her usual stoic expression was replaced with something lighter, though she was clearly trying to play it cool.

“Hey,” she said, hands tucked into her coat pockets. “You promised.”

You blinked, confused for a moment, until she clarified, her tone teasing. “You said if I stayed off my leg, you’d give me a book to borrow.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at her. “Wait a minute. That’s not what I promised. I said I’d *make* you read, remember? You teased me about books being for nerds.”

She grinned, unbothered. “I don’t recall saying anything like that.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let her in. “Fine, come on.”

As you led her into the living room, her gaze fell on the three towering stacks of books sitting on your side table. Her eyebrows shot up.

“This is how you keep them stored?” she asked, pointing at the precarious piles.

You crossed your arms, mock offended. “Yes, what about it?”

“No bookshelf?” she teased, smirking.

Your eyes flicked to the pile of unassembled wood and nails in the corner of the room, and you sighed. “I haven’t exactly had the time to build it yet.”

Her grin widened, a quiet chuckle escaping her. “You? Too busy to build something? Hard to believe.”

You shot her a playful glare, giving her shoulder a light smack. “Don’t start. Now, what are you looking for?”

She paused, her smirk softening as her expression grew thoughtful. “Something to help me escape this madness” she murmured.

You nodded, turning to the stacks. After a moment of searching, you pulled out a worn but beloved fantasy novel. “Here,” you said, handing it to her. “This should do the trick.”

She took it, eyeing the cover with a skeptical sigh. “Fantasy, huh?”

“Anything to get your mind off the real world,” you replied.

Her lips quirked up in a half-smile, but you noticed the way her shoulders slumped. She flipped through the first few pages, her eyes skimming the words, and you realized she wasn’t eager to leave.

“Tea?” you offered suddenly, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Sure, whatever,” she said, but her tone was lighter, and you caught the briefest flicker of excitement in her eyes.

You smiled to yourself as you poured water into the kettle, setting it to boil. When the tea was ready, you brought two mugs into the living room, handing one to Sevika.

“This is cheesy,” she remarked, still flipping through the book as she took the mug.

You shrugged, sitting down beside her. “It’s supposed to be. Just give it a chance.”

She hummed in response, sipping the tea as she read.

“What’s your favorite book?” she asked after a while, not looking up.

You hesitated, glancing at the stacks. “I can’t choose. I love all of them the same,” you said with a small shrug.

She hummed again, quieter this time, almost nonverbal. You noticed how her usual sharp edges softened in these moments—how comfortable she seemed.

“How’s your leg healing?” you asked gently, breaking the silence.

“All better now,” she said, her tone casual, though her eyes flicked to you with a faint glint of something warmer. “Thanks to you.”

You ducked your head, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

The quiet lingered, heavy with something unspoken. Sevika’s smile faded suddenly, her expression closing off.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” she muttered, standing abruptly. “I should get going.”

“But—” You stared, bewildered, as she left her tea untouched on the table and headed for the door.

“Thanks for the book,” she said over her shoulder, and before you could respond, the door clicked shut behind her.

For a moment, you just sat there, confused and a little hurt. The warmth she’d brought into the room seemed to vanish with her, leaving you alone again.

---

As the door clicked shut behind her, Sevika paused in the dimly lit hallway, her back against the cold wall. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts swirling in a way she couldn’t control.

What the hell was she doing?

She’d gone to your place intending to keep things simple—a quick stop to grab a book, tease you a little, and leave. But then you’d smiled at her, the kind of smile that made her knees feel weak. The kind of smile that made her heart ache in ways she didn’t want to name.

She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. You were just... you. Sweet, patient, and stubborn as hell when it came to her well-being. But you also had a way of looking at her—like she wasn’t just Silco’s enforcer, the muscle of the Undercity. Like you saw her as something more.

That terrified her.

“Pull it together,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

But the truth was, every time you smiled or laughed, she felt her carefully built walls start to crack. She didn’t know what to do with that—didn’t know how to handle the warmth you brought into her life.

And then there was the way you’d looked when she’d left. Disappointed. Hurt. It had gnawed at her the entire night as she lied in bed.

She raked a hand through her hair, glancing down at the book in her hand. She didn’t care about the damn book, not really. She cared about you.

Sevika’s jaw tightened. She had to make it up to you. She couldn’t keep running every time things got too close, couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t care.

The next day, she found herself at your apartment again—not to see you, but to do something she hoped would show you how much she appreciated you, even if she couldn’t say it out loud.

Building the bookshelf wasn’t about the books. It was about you. The way your face lit up when you talked about your favorite stories, the way you defended your messy stacks like they were treasures.

When she finished, she stepped back to admire her work. The bookshelf wasn’t perfect—she wasn’t a carpenter—but it was sturdy and solid, and it felt like a piece of her she was leaving behind.

As she closed your door softly behind her, Sevika let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She still didn’t understand everything she felt when it came to you. But for the first time, she didn’t feel the urge to run. Instead, she hoped you’d see the bookshelf and understand what she couldn’t say.

---

When you got home that evening, though, the sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

The pile of wood and nails in the corner of your living room was gone. In its place stood a perfectly built bookshelf, solid and sturdy. The books that had once been stacked precariously on your table were neatly arranged beside it, left for you to decide how to organize them.

You stared at it, your mouth falling open in disbelief. Running your fingers along the polished edges, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sevika…” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head in quiet amazement.

Somehow, this simple act of kindness felt like the loudest declaration she could have made.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Apologies ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST��/ EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,440ish

Summary: After living alone together for less than a year, you and Logan fight.

Notes: I know that CUDDLES had the most votes for next, but this was ready first. This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan and you had been living at your old house for less than a year. Your relationship was getting better, but the rough patches were still rough. Lately, Logan had been working eighty-hour work weeks. When he came home, he would smoke a cigar and drink before turning in for the night. Logan was moody with you and barely helped around the house. It was frustrating as Logan had promised when you arrived, only to work part-time and that the duties around the house were for both of you to complete. Your frustration caused you to be moody as well, not helping with the situation.

It was late in the evening, and you were putting away a cold dinner that had been waiting for Logan as he arrived home. The tension was thick in the air. Logan’s boots were loud against the wood floor as he came into the kitchen and grabbed one of his cigars from off of the counter.

“I made dinner,” you grumbled as you closed the fridge. 

“Not hungry,” Logan huffed, placing the cigar between his lips. “Do you mind?” He motioned to the cigar.

You scoffed. “Actually, I do. Feel free to light the damn cigar yourself and take it outside. I’m going to bed.”

“What’s got you in a mood?”

“Are you serious?”

“I just don't think that I need to be snapped out for asking for a simple favor. I have been working overtime, and I just thought you could do something for me.”

“Do something for you? All I ever do is stuff for you! I make dinner every night, only for you not to come home in time or even eat it. Do you even eat?”

“I do, at the bar.”

“Alcohol isn’t food, Logan.”

“It seems to do the job just fine.”

“Logan… I… I miss you. You’re gone more than you're here. And when you're here, it's like you're still somewhere else.”

“The lumberyard is short-staffed. I have to work.”

“Yes, but you could still come back home to me instead of stopping by the bar. You go to the bar, and I stay up waiting for you with a wasted dinner. When you come back, you're tired and distant. You either go to bed before me or long after me. We barely talk anymore—“

“I’m trying here, sweetheart. This,” he motioned around the room, “is new for me. The not running, the not fighting is hard.”

“So, are you regretting coming here?”

"That's not what I said.”

“But it’s what you're feeling, isn’t it? This is all too much… I’m too much.”

“Now, wait a second; I never mentioned anything about you.”

“That's part of the problem. We came here to work on our communication, but you're shutting me out!”

“You knew that communication wasn't easy for me when we got into this. You can't expect me to change overnight.”

“I know that, but I thought that we were getting better. That we…"

“That we what? That we were going back to the way it was before, the first time we lived in this house? We've changed---I've changed. You can’t compare the two.”

“I'm not!”

“The pressure you are continually putting on me sure feels like you are.”

“I’m not trying to, but any pressure on you, Logan. If that’s how you're feeling, you need to be honest about it.”

Logan scoffed. “It’s not that easy.”

“It can be. If you come home and be home."

“What do you want me to do? Quit?”

“I’m not asking you to quit. You just need to find a balance.”

“I need to find a balance? Maybe what I need is different than you think.”

“Then tell me!” Your hands went up in flames at the frustration of this roundabout conversation. You quickly stepped back and stopped the flames. The tension in the air was thicker than it ever had been. “I... I’m going on a walk.”

“It’s too late for a walk."

“I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N—“

“Logan, let me go before we say something we both regret. I won’t be long. Just need to clear my head.”

Before Logan could argue more, you slipped out the back door and headed towards the trees. Logan remained still in the kitchen, his mind replaying the past few weeks and the argument that had just occurred. You were right, he had been distant and working more hours than he should. He was scared. In all honestly, Logan was enjoying the simplicity of life. But it was something that could be taken away at any moment. He couldn't allow himself to enjoy it more so he buried himself in work and alcohol, not ever considering the effect it would have on you.

~~~

You knew that Logan was scared to open up and enjoy life. You were scared, too. Your lives had continually been changed, ripping away your happiness. But you couldn’t let that stop you from enjoying life. You need to hold on to the good while you can, and not worry about the future.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, that you lost track of time and where you were. It was still dark outside and even your flames couldn't help guide you in the correct direction. You knew that Logan was probably concerned and would begin searching for you. At least, you hoped. Finding a small clearing, you put together a pile of wood and lit it on fire. You sat against a nearby tree, hoping that Logan would find you.

~~~

Logan had practically paced a large path in the kitchen as he waited for you to return. It was past midnight now, with no word from you. It was growing concerned. What if you got injured? What if someone took you? What if you were dead? All of his worst fears came crushing through his mind, making him grow more concerned and more guilt-ridden. 

Logan went out the back, eyes searching through the darkness to see any sign of you. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. His heart clenched as the familiar smoke smell struck his senses. Logan’s eyes snapped open and caught sight of the smoke rising above the tree line. Thankfully, his legs moved before his mind could fully comprehend. All he could think about was that there was a possibility of something wrong with you. Well, more wrong than the fight you two had. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Y/N!” Logan yelled as he sprinted through the forest. “Y/N!”

When he broke into the clearing where the fire was, Logan stumbled to a stop. His eyes frantically searched for you, finally catching a glimpse of your feet on the other side of the fire. He rushed over and knelt beside your curled-up form. His hands roamed you for injuries.

“Y/N, honey,” he pleaded as he continued to search you for injuries.

“L—Logan?” You said groggily as you began to wake.

He breathed a little sigh of relief as you responded. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s time to come home.” With ease, he picked you up. You killed the fire as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“I knew you would find me,” you mumbled as you let Logan carry you home.

“Always, sweetheart.” Logan carried you all the way to bed and held you close as the two of you settled in.

“Logan? I—“

He quickly shushed you. “We’ll talk in the morning. Let me hold you. Sleep.”

“Okay… love you.”

He kissed your head. “Love you more.”

~~~

You were tucked into Logan's chest when you woke. He was already awake, not wanting to lose you from his grip.

“Morning,” you looked up at him.

“Morning,” he leaned down and kissed your head.

“We need to talk."

“I know… I’m sorry… For everything. I’m not meaning to be distant. I’m still figuring this whole thing out. How to just work and come home and be the man you need me to be… I’m sorry."

“I know. I'm sorry, too. I know that I need to be more patient.”

"I'm going to tell the lumberyard I can only work part-time like originally agreed upon. I’m going to be home for dinners and to help you around the house.”

“Logan, I just need more communication. If you're not going to be home, I need to know.”

“I’ll work on it. I promise.” He pulled you up to have better access to your face. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Thanks for sticking with me.”

“You’re stuck with me, Howlett, no matter what.”

[lynzishell]

🌶️18+ Only

Prev // Next

*Note: If you have not read Part 4 and cba to go back and read it all, then this post should give you enough context.

Transcript below the cut:

Atlas: Hey. I was just thinking about you. Asher: Were you? Atlas: Can’t you tell?

Asher: What were you thinking? Atlas: I’ll show you.

Asher: Ahh… thank god you still feel the same. Atlas: What?

Asher: Nothing. Keep going.

[Later…]

Atlas: Are you coming to bed? Asher: … Atlas: Ash?

Asher: If I ask you something, will you promise to tell me the truth? Atlas: Of course. Asher: That last morning in Selvadorada, when we woke up in the jungle, you looked genuinely freaked out and you asked me if I remembered anything. What did you mean? Atlas: Why are you asking about that?

Asher: Because something feels different, ever since we got back, and I can’t shake it. Atlas: I see. Is that what’s been bothering you? Asher: [nods] Did something happen? Atlas: I think so. I’ve been trying to convince myself it was all just a dream, but I don’t think it was. I wanted to tell you, but… it’s going to make me sound insane. Asher: Tell me.

Atlas: I don’t really know where to start. Asher: At the beginning? Atlas: [scoffs] I wish it were that simple. Um, do you remember the temple? Asher: I remember the ruins. And the museum. Atlas: Right, okay. The museum. Do you remember what that guy, Sam, I think, do you remember what he said about curses?

One long and confusing story later…

Asher: How is that possible? Atlas: I have no idea, but I think maybe you’re right, that things are not the same as they were when we left. I don’t know exactly how, but I feel it too.

Asher: How do we go back?   Atlas: Back where? Asher: I don’t know. To whatever timeline we were in before. Atlas: I don’t think we do. I think we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Asher: [sinking to his knees] But…

Atlas: Hey. Come here. Everything’s okay. More than okay. We made it out. We have each other, and we have our family and our friends, and we still get to create the life we always dreamed of. Nothing else matters. The rest is just… background noise.

Asher: Background noise? Atlas: Yes, and for what it’s worth, one thing that hasn’t changed, that will never change, is how much I love you. Asher: Atlas, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Atlas: We’ll never have to find out. For the rest of our lives, we’re in this together.

Asher: I love you so much. Atlas: I love you too.

[shrimshrim4fun]

Headcanons for Camellya:

Note: How do I see nothing about her 😭 Nobody writes about her, does nobody want content about her? I’m planning on posting about her more this week, anybody interested at all 😓

SFW:

-A very bit tease. Makes light jokes about how you do certain things but cannot handle other people teasing you. Even if it’s jokingly, she will glare at them and is proabably planning how she’s gonna torture them

-Loves clinging onto you especially when she’s napping. The vines from her body sprout out and wrap around you to keep you close not wanting you to leave. Her head usually pressed up against your chest as you both lay in the sun

-Your house is now filled with different flowers and plants. So many flowers everywhere. Even though there are so many the scent is pleasant like an alluring perfume. She loves it when you help take care of them with her. “How considerate of you, helping me water all of them. I hope you’re as excited as I am waiting for them to bloom…”

-Hates it when you’re out of her sight. She’ll find some way to keep track of where you’re going. In some way absolutely despises all your friends saying that they’re keeping you away from her and that you should get rid of them. Shes also really possessive always having a hand around you in public or clinging onto you. She’s obsessed and hates when you leave her side. “They’re trying to deprive me of the one thing that can make me happy. Oh isn’t it so mean of them…but don’t worry I can make them all poof if you let me”

-Sometimes she gets hurt on purpose because she knows you’ll give her extra attention that day to tend to her injuries. She never gets injuries but she’ll make injuries on herself and dismisses it if other people ask. But with you she’ll be so exaggerative when you ask her about it and you’re the only one that she allows to treat her injuries. She love seeing the worried look on your face as if you actually cared. Usually these injuries are large and bloody. She’ll look at you fondly with a smug smile on her face as you tend to them. “Aren’t you gonna kiss them well? I promise that I’ll feel 100 times better if you kiss it better for me”

NSFW:

-Very expressive and loud. She doesn’t care if others can hear her, she’ll only giggle before getting louder. Will tell you how much she loves what you’re doing and how happy she is. “Oh yes~ you’re so good it’s making me crave more…MORE”

-A massive masochist. Love any and all pain you inflict onto her. The more it hurts the better. Temperature play, whipping, paddles, anything you want. Probably a sadist as well but more enjoys it when you inflict it onto her. She moans so much more every time you cause pain on her body. Will stare at herself in the mirror afterward to admire your work.

-Loves leaving marks on your body especially if it’s any that someone else can see like hickeys on your neck. So so so many claw marks on your back. A lot of the time she draws blood on these marking and will lick the blood away. Loving the metallic taste in her mouth. After sex, she sometimes stares at them with a proud smile. Isn’t too much of a biter but will occasionally nip your neck to catch you off guard. “Oh your even more beautiful like this, I wish to make you bleed my dear~”

-Mirror sex is a huge turn on for her. When you bend her over and slam the strap into her ass. My hand tugging her hair up as she sees herself in the mirror. The saliva slipping down the side of her mouth and how messy you two are entangled together like two vines.

-Aftercare consists a hot bath together and laying in bed. Usually with her laying against her, as she traces the red claw marks on your back as she hums softly. Your hand gently rubbing her back as you reassure her. The smell of her shampoo engulfs your senses as you nuzzle into her neck

[nylibrty]

merry christmas, please dont call ⸝ ⸝ ⸝ b.stewart

「pairing」 uconn!toxic!breanna stewart x reader

「summary」 you catch breanna cheating, again.

「cw」 poorly written angst

「notes」 this is a work of fiction and in no way reflects back on stewies real life character. pls dont cancel me for cheating + toxic stewie thank youuuuu

christmas was a strange time for you this year. since your first christmas at uconn, you always spent it with breanna—no matter how bad the fight had been that week—you two sucked it up and spent the week together. laughing and hanging out like nothing had happened.

but this year, she was in a ditch she wouldn’t be able to dig herself out of this time.

you had caught her cheating again.

you weren’t surprised, if anything, it was normal behavior for her. you two got into a big fight and she left the apartment, you knew she was gonna go sleep with another chick like you were nothing to her.

you were starting to think that you were nothing to her. she had cheated on you several times and always told you it was ‘just sex’, but you two knew deep down that wasn’t just it.

it wasn’t “just sex” when she came home drunk and laid in your arms while she whispered how much she loved you. it wasn’t “just sex” when she promised to spend forever with you. it wasn’t “just sex” when you had spent every christmas with her family for the past 3 years. it was never, just sex.

anger flooded your veins. a different type of anger, anger you had never felt before. it was a mix of anger, betrayal, and wondering why you let this happen again.

“you really thought i wasn’t gonna catch you sleeping with another chick? i’m not fucking stupid breanna.” your words were venom to her. she knew you were right, you always were, but she refused to admit defeat. too deep into her own toxic pride to ever admit that you were right.

you two were about to leave for syracuse, you had your bags packed and everything but of course she had to pull this shit.

“no baby, c’mon we can still spend christmas together, don’t do this,” she said, almost too calmly. this pissed you off more, the audacity of her to act like this wasn’t a big deal like she really believed she was going to get away with this again. she walked towards you, her arms reaching out to bring you into them.

your face scowled at her, still in disbelief that she had the nerve to do this again. “get the fuck away from me breanna, i’m not doing this shit again.” what was once anger had quickly devolved into sadness, and tears welled in your eyes, attempting to hold them back for the sake of keeping your own dignity. 

you almost saw her face change. her eyes softened for a moment before switching back to the same stoic expression she dawned before. “babe, c’mon,” she rolled her eyes, “lets just go and have a good week, we can talk about this when we get back.”

you turned your back to her and began towards the door. she didn’t dare to follow behind you, knowing she wasn’t coming back from this.

you had picked up your bag on the way now standing in the doorframe, you turned for a moment to look at her, see that she really didn’t care. “have fun in syracuse breanna. hope you have a good fucking excuse as to why i’m never coming back.” you spat before slamming the door behind you.

[lucien0501]

LETTERS (Wolfstar Oneshot)

Summary: Letters from Sirius Black to Remus Lupin from Azkaban. He isn’t allowed to send the letters so they’re only one sided, which definitely makes it sad. There are a few mentions of fun past Marauders moments/pranks!:) Harry Potter Marauders Fandom

Note: I do not support the views of the author (I am a trans person so....no🤬) but I love these very gay characters so much that I had to write about them!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Hints of mental instability, losing memories because of dementors, definite angst, mentions of Lily and James’ death, brief mentions of sex, swearing, Sirius’ hate for Peter Pettigrew, death threats towards Peter Pettigrew, and overall kind tragic because Sirius is stuck in Azkaban.  Let me know if I missed any!!

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

Moons

I'm not sure why I'm writing to you--we're not allowed to send or receive post from Azkaban, but you know that already. You always seem to know everything, you're smart as hell.

I'm not going to waste parchment explaining everything, I already spend too much time rehearsing what I'm going to say. Lily and James, Remus. I still can't make myself believe it, I'm not sure I want to.

I want to ask you not to forget about me, not to believe I'm a traitor. No, that's a lie. I want to ask you to wait for me. I'll come back to you one day, I promise. It’s selfish of me, to hope you won't move on. But I've always been a selfish bastard, you know that too.

I can't remember your eyes, Remus. Or your laugh. I try, every day to conjure you up from my memories, but the Dementors are slowly sucking you from my mind, one day at a time. I'm terrified of losing you--our years at Hogwarts, for good. I'm scared that one day I won't remember what you taste like, your oversized jumpers, the sounds you make when you come. I love you, Remus, and the Dementors prey on love, it's a feast to them.

But they can't take away my hate, my need for revenge. I fucking hate him, I hate him I hate himIhatehimIhate--

Pads

*

Moony

Do you remember the time we shagged on the big couch in the common room and James found out? He was so disgusted he didn't sit there till Christmas.

Do you remember the time that we all got drunk and played Seven Minutes In Heaven and I charmed the spinner so I'd get you? That was our first kiss. I remember.

Then there was that time that we slipped Snivellus a potion that turned his hair pink for a week. We thought it was the most brilliant thing we'd ever done. Did he retaliate? I'm not sure anymore.

Remember when we snuck out to Hogsmeade through the secret passage and almost ran into Professor McGonagall? Did we get caught? I don't remember.

I'm trying to remember. I have to remember

Padfoot

*

Rem

Half my bloody family is in here, you know. It makes for a wonderful reunion, lots of cursing and threats of murder-- just like old times! 

I wonder if my parents are proud of me now, after what they think I did. After what everyone thinks I did.

I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry for all of it, for the way I must have hurt you. I wish I could actually send these letters and wish I could talk to you again. Just for a few minutes.

There are so many things I should have done differently. So many things.

Sirius

*

Remus

I wonder where you are, now? What you're doing? 

It's been five years now, for all I know you could be dead or married or finally realized you're better off without me. I wouldn't blame you for the last one. 

That thought haunts me every day, that I'll get out of here and I'll find you and you'll say that you've moved on and none of it matters now.

Cause I will find you. I'm getting out of here, one day.

Sirius

*

This will be my last letter, I'm almost out of parchment and there's no way in hell they'll bring me more. Maybe I'll write on the walls to keep myself from going mad. 

I'm so sorry for everything that I did. For everything that I failed to do. I never told you enough how much I loved you and now it's too late.

I'm going to get out of here, I promise. I have to. 

I'm going to kill him, fucking rip him apart with my bare hands, damn my wand. 

And then I'm going to find you. And everything is going to be alright because then I'll be in your arms. 

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I know this may sound crazy but remember how in No Way Out, Sonic told Nine that he still considered him to be a friend while getting down on one knee and Nine calmed down? Later in Nine’s Lives, Nine says “Typical” when seeing Sonic run to the others and accused Sonic of betraying him when Sonic called the others his friends.

Nine was sort of acting like Sonic proposed to him and then cheated on him by being friends with the others.

Okay so first of all, I don't think you're crazy. During S3 there's actually plenty of evidence that Nine is jealous, both of the Tails variants and Sonic considering everyone else his friends.

One example that presents his specific kind of jealousy is during Episode 2 of Season 3, when Nine first appears to Sonic in New Yoke.

"Everything is collapsing... This is terrible!"

"Is it? That seems odd coming from you. As far as I can tell you only care about your own home."

Essentially what I'm getting at is this. I do believe that pre betrayal, Nine admittedly considered Sonic to be the most important person to him, and thought Sonic may have felt the same way. And the "betrayal" at the end of S2 hurt Nine very deeply. He had this image of Sonic in his head that was shattered by the finale, so he sort of instinctively switches to thinking the worst about Sonic because he can't trust that anything he thought before wasn't a lie. This is one of the reasons that he can't fathom Sonic caring about shatterspaces other than his own home.

But it's not just that he can't fathom it, it's that due to this deep hurt, Nine cannot allow himself to believe it.

Because if Sonic genuinely cares about the shatterverse as a whole, if he genuinely cares about saving all of these people, then to Nine, what made him the exception?

Sure, we the audience can see Sonic’s journey in Prime. We can see that by the end of S2, Sonic wanted to keep the shatterverse safe just as much as he wanted to bring back Green Hill. He wanted everyone to be alive and happy. But from Nine's pov here, he's just learned that Sonic lied to him, spoke honeyed words and manipulated him just to get to the prism. None of that is true, but he doesn't feel like Sonic actually cares for him or wants him. So at this point, for Sonic to put saving all of these people over saving his own home or genuinely worrying about their home makes Nine feel like the exception or that his feelings about Sonic must be wrong. Either one of those ideas he'd understandably like to avoid (because one means that Sonic is genuine with everyone except for him, and the other would mean to him that his feeling of betrayal and hurt feelings post S2 finale are misplaced and not allowed to be had, though he feels justified feeling hurt)

And that scene in S3 E3 No Escape is actually another big exemplifier of Nine's brand of jealousy and just how hurt he is.

"Don't worry. Beneath the surface, my new friends are far simpler than the flawed creatures you knew and loved. And all the more loyal for it."

Starting out strong, Nine takes a not so subtle shot at Sonic's friends while taking subtler shot at Sonic's loyalty, since Sonic had been his first and only friend.

"Ever wonder where we'd be if things had gone differently between us?"

"...Not anymore."

"I do. All the time."

"Not anymore." Implying that post the S2 finale he really had dwelled (at least for a time) on thoughts of how things could have been different. How he wished things could have gone differently.

And Nine gets visibly angry/frustrated when Sonic confesses he's always thinking about how things could have been different. Perhaps because it feels like a slap to the face, or feels hard to believe.

"Tch. You had your chance."

"...Right back at ya, bud."

And then, despite his anger, despite how he's been trying to get Sonic all along so he can drain his energy and save his home, Nine ignores Sonic's "should we get this over with". He puts on another one of those faces, similar to earlier when Sonic arrived and Nine talked about his "new friends". Perhaps to cover up exactly the way he's feeling in this moment with a veneer of superiority (he always did something similar when talking up Sonic to the Chaos Council).

"You know...after all this time...I think I finally understand you, Sonic."

...

"You wanna save everyone. Friends. Foes. Total strangers! You say it's because you're a hero and that's what heroes do, but deep down... After what you did—destroying your own home—it's the only way you can ever live with yourself. Even if that means you won't live at all."

And while I think Nine isn't incorrect—that there is a part of Prime!Sonic who's been acting out of selfishness, caring more about feeling like a good person than actually being one—these are still words from someone who feels betrayed by Sonic. I think there's a level to which Nine is seeing a part of Sonic no one else did, and also to a level which Nine is trying to recontextualize Sonic's more heroic/selfless seeming actions so he can reconcile them with how he feels about Sonic and sees him at this moment. In other words, while he's seeing a facet of Sonic he didn't see before, this is not all encompassing of who Prime Sonic is. It's just that perhaps by believing that Sonic's every seemingly selfless action is disingenuine, that all those nice words and intent to save people is just so Sonic can feel good rather that actually caring about anyone, then Nine doesn’t have to feel like the exception. Then he can see Sonic as someone who is pretending to care about all of this, and Sonic's other friends as fools who don't see what he (Nine) has seen.

But as I said, it's more complicated than that. Perhaps Nine is seeing a facet of Sonic that other people don't see or don't want to see, but Prime!Sonic is multifaceted. Perhaps he does want to hurry up and sacrifice himself in this scene because then he can finally feel like he's atoned for what he's done and he's absolved of/paid for his crimes, but that also doesn't mean he doesn't genuinely care about the lives of people in the shatterverse.

"If I don't make it, and you do, how do I know you'll keep your promise."

"Don't worry. Your 'friends' are safe. Once I have your energy, I can restore everything. They can have their silly lives in their silly spaces, as long as they leave me alone."

"Fair enough."

...

"And for what it's worth...I wouldda done the same for you."

"Don't lie to me..."

"I'm not–"

"DON'T!"

"Think whatever you want, but it's true. Even after everything you've done, everything we've been through. Together. Against each other. You're still my friend, Nine."

I really couldn't express more just how hurt Nine feels. That he doesn't believe Sonic would give anything up for him, even if he were to accept that Sonic would do that for everyone else. When he tells Sonic not to lie to him, frustrated, angry, voice wavering, I think it's because he can't take this again. If Sonic is lying just to manipulate him, if this isn't genuine, if he's just using him again, he can't take it again.

This is an incredibly intimate scene. With Sonic, standing face to face to Nine, inside Nine's safe space, his home that no one else has been into, behind the physical representation of the walls surrounding Nine's heart post betrayal, this is his first time all season really being allowed to speak to Nine directly. Here there's no one to perform to aside from each other.

But you can see that despite everything, Sonic still reaches Nine in this scene. It's not easy, but he reaches Nine's heart, leading Nine to start to believe in him again.

And that's why it's a pity the other variants show up when they do, using Sonic to breach Nine's walls. With the way Nine reacts after this happens, Sonic may as well have made Nine believe in that image of him again. Sonic may as well have made Nine believe that Sonic does care about him, that he'd do anything for him (or, at least, would give his life for him like he would for the others if it meant they could live), only to be the trojan horse that allowed the enemy™ to breach his safe space. The pretty lie.

At the beginning of S3 E4 Nine's Lives, Nine says "Predictable" when Sonic runs over to his friends. And, as anon mentioned, Nine says that Sonic has betrayed him for the last time, calling the deal off.

I wouldn't necessarily say here that Nine feels as if Sonic had cheated on him so to speak, but I would say that even if Nine doesn't see Sonic as a willing "trojan horse" here, Nine still feels like a fool for "falling for it again", for believing in Sonic. I think it's enough betrayal to Nine that Sonic would convince him that he cares about him and wants him to have a future too, only to then side with a bunch of people who want to beat Nine down and who would not let Nine be happy if Nine surrendered to them (from Nine's pov at least).

So in short, anon, I think you are seeing Nine's jealousy here. Even if he also has to believe Sonic is secretly fooling the others, to him this is a scene where Sonic is not only choosing them over him, but another example of Sonic (from Nine's pov) proving that he's a liar who doesn't care for Nine or his future/safety at all.

[todayisafridaynight]

Share Mine notes please I beg (and on the arakawa fam if you have the timefkfd)

forgive me if these are messy as all fuck i'm not good at making notes BUT here's everything i generally keep in mind when drawing mine and hijikata + the reference sheets i look at when drawing them :)

arakawa family notes + references below:

(more notes about aoki + sawashiro's faces ft. ikumi here)

[batsplat]

casey also talks about sepang 2015 what do you think of that

oh in that podcast? uh... lemme listen again...

yeah idk it's not really anything new I'd say? he's said basically all the same stuff in more interesting and extensive ways elsewhere. I think casey inevitably has a very 'well feuding is bad and helps nobody' point of view, has expressed that before in the past, does it here again, and he's also drawn a parallel between himself and marc on several occasions. which... well, of course there's similarities in terms of public discourse or whatever, but the parallel really falls apart whenever casey argues the feuds cost valentino. like, I do think it's sometimes important to just. keep in mind. it's interesting that casey draws this comparison in his mind but that doesn't necessarily means he's right about this. I'm not sure how you'd argue that starting a feud with casey cost valentino anything competitively? you can argue it didn't help him I guess, and then we can have a debate about the ins and outs of the 2008 season. we can also have an argument that in a hypothetical world where casey isn't ill in 2009, valentino doesn't break his leg and casey isn't on a piece of junk in 2010, and valentino isn't on a piece of junk in 2011-12, then actually maybe valentino sparking open animosity with casey COULD have cost him. but we don't know that! didn't happen! I wish we could have found out, but we never got the chance! as it stands, the tally on this is pretty straightforward: casey won the title when things were reasonably civil between them in 2007, and valentino took control of the following season at the exact moment he worsened the relationship between the pair of them in 2008. obviously, it's all more complicated than that and casey would of course argue laguna didn't negatively affect his subsequent performances... but it certainly didn't help them. like, at the very worst valentino escalating tensions in 2008 is a complete net neutral. after 2009, them being bitchy to each other every other tuesday was completely competitively irrelevant beyond maybe affecting how they approached occasionally fighting for a podium position. hey, maybe casey used that feud to fire himself up through sheer spite throughout the later stages of his career, but that doesn't actually support his anti-feud stance - it's basically the exact same thing as what valentino does. they're both quite similar in that regard! always so hungry to prove a point, to show how someone else is wrong. kinda half the point with this feuding business is to get yourself going, get yourself motivated, yeah. he straight up openly admits to using yamaha's repeat rejection of him as a way of giving himself motivation, and at the end of the day that's really not all that different?

anyway, what else does casey say... oh yeah, that him and the other aliens were already kinda prepared for this and had learned vale's tricks. that valentino had only been able to get into the minds of the previous generation. welllllll *wiggles hand* sure, I mean, he did clearly have to change his approach... he couldn't just use the exact same playbook to get to them, either on-track or off-track. but that's why he did change up the playbook... again, whether you want to believe valentino won his final two titles 'in the head' rather than just through pure pace kinda depends on how you assess the evidence, but it is at the very least a debate. and, y'know, it's always worth remembering that valentino's most important mind games with casey didn't happen in a press conference... it was on the track. and the on-track stuff really is just embedded in how valentino approaches winning. speaking of aliens, this is what dani and jorge have said:

like, valentino's entire approach to his riding, even to the way he's setting his bike up, is deliberately about directly fucking with you... he's not actually always trying to be faster than you as much as he's trying to give himself the tools to make your life miserable, to pressure you into mistakes, etc etc... and again, especially with casey (if anything because he was so mentally sturdy), the off-track stuff was really just window dressing. (I know they bicker a lot after 2009 but it's just so fundamentally irrelevant to actual on-track competition.) so you can be aware of those tricks, but it also doesn't necessarily help you when someone's being nasty to you on-track in a way you just fully do not enjoy. which is what it was like for casey! for casey, a lot of this comes back to the truly unpleasant context of how he was perceived by the public, how he was treated as mentally weak or 'broken' or whatever partly because he had the misfortune of coming up against a bloke who had the reputation for breaking rivals. I think it's quite natural to end up with a bit of a hardliner 'actually I've never been mentally affected by a result in my life' stance - and of course casey is a lot tougher than a lot of people give him credit for. that being said. sometimes your rivals affect you, shit happens, it's part of the game. it's fundamentally a nice idea to think that valentino's tactics weren't just morally wrong but also ineffective, which is kind of the appeal of this narrative, right? you want to believe you're above that, you want to believe you were adequately prepared and wise to valentino's tactic. it's unsurprising and understandable that casey does tend to tell the story that way, but again it's *wiggles hand* also hard to describe it as completely factual

uh. what else. oh I'm thrilled casey does canonically know valentino and marc were friends, he has said he wasn't following motogp too much during that time period so you couldn't be sure of that. does this mean anything? does it tell you anything? well, no, but it's just a pleasing thought to me. I like that. oh also 'provoking particularly aggressive riders isn't a good idea' is kinda a funny take from casey? like, he of all people would hate the idea of being cowed by someone's reputation like that... casey's right that provoking fast riders can potentially be dangerous, but y'know I do think that's probably not news to anyone almost nine years later. um. that's all I've got I think

[shidoukanae]

drawing for a scene in the TME light novel (specifically, Paris helping out Lyla!!).

I drew this scene immediately after I read it because oh my god of all the things I was expecting from Paris's first introduction, him lending a (unneeded) helping hand to Lyla was NOT what i thought his first introduction would be like

[soapsoupy]

Got an iPad. Having problems with procreate but not with tuxpaint.