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parkerslatte · 22 hours ago

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The Purest Kind of Love || Part Two

Azriel x Fem!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

Summary: The morning after the bond snaps between Y/N and Eris, Eris goes to talk to Y/N but can’t seem to have a genuine conversation. Azriel works through his frustration.

The Purest Kind of Love Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

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•••

The High Lord of Autumn paced outside of the large double doors into the room where the one who had turned his life upside down resided. The citrus scent he remembered from the previous night invaded his senses. It must have been nearly an hour since Eris left his own chambers early that morning to make the walk through the Forest House to where he knew the people of the Inner Circle were residing.

Despite the five separate rooms each housing members of the Inner Circle, Eris somehow knew exactly which one Y/N resided in. It was the grandest one and previously Eris’s own bedroom when he was a child. The small burn mark on the door was still present from where he singed it out of anger when his powers were just developing.

No matter how much Eris tried to distract himself, his palms sweat as he took one more shaky step towards the door. The citrus scent made his heartbeat increase as he slowly raised his fist and knocked on the door. It echoed through the empty corridor and Eris looked around, he didn’t want to be seen.

A faint reply croaked from the other side of the door. “Come in.”

Once his hand was on the handle, Eris pushed open the door. It creaked loudly and he internally groaned. When Eris fully stood inside of the room, the citrus scent mixed with a cedar and…salt. The door closed behind Eris as his eyes fixated on Y/N.

“Oh,” she said with a hint of disappointment. “I thought you would be someone else.”

From the scent alone, Eris guessed who she hoped it might have been. He didn’t say anything.

The room fell into complete silence as Eris took small calculated steps closer to Y/N. The salty smell grew the closer he got to her. The streaks on her face was a clear indication of the tears she must have shed.

“Did you sleep well?” Eris asked, already knowing the answer.

“I haven’t slept,” Y/N replied.

“I thought as much,” Eris said. “If it brings you any peace; I haven’t slept either.”

“Funnily enough it doesn’t,” Y/N snapped.

“My, my, there’s no need to bite my head off,” Eris said, his voice calm.

Y/N’s eyes met his for the first time and the bond hummed to life between them. It made Eris want to step closer to her– it was as if a rope was tied around his waist and was pulling taunt, beckoning him in her direction.

“You seem nice enough, Eris, perhaps a little full of yourself, but I am clearly not in the mood now,” Y/N stated.

Eris held his hands up in defence. “I didn’t come here to fight you. If you must know, my original intention was to ask if you were okay.” A flicker of surprise flashed across Y/N’s eyes but it was gone as quick as it arrived. “But you seem to have already answered that question already.”

A long sigh passed Y/N’s lips. “No, I am not okay. How could I be?”

“A mating bond snapping was not what I expected to feel last night,” said Eris, holding his hands behind his back and fiddled with a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket.

“You are not the only one surprised by that news,” Y/N said. “Now, will you please leave me alone. I don’t feel like talking right now.”

Eris nodded. “As you wish.”

As he turned his back, he tried to ignore the small sigh of relief slipping from Y/N’s lips. As his hand touched the cool metal of the door handle, Eris inclined his head to Y/N.

“Just so you know, I am finding this news just as surprising and as hard as you,” Eris muttered. “I may not show it, but I am terrified.”

Eris didn’t wait around to hear if Y/N would respond. The door flung open and he stepped into the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in her room.

When he was back in the corridor, Eris wiped his palms on his jacket and groaned. He hadn’t meant to come across so condescending, he had every intention of being genuine and asking her if she needed anything, if there was anything he could do. But the moment he found himself slipping into that vulnerability, his defences rose and were harder than steel.

“That is a sight I wasn’t expecting,” the irksome voice of Rhysand spoke.

“This is my home in case you forgot, Rhysand,” Eris drawled, already irritated to spend time Rhysand’s presence.

“A home that I helped you claim,” Rhysand replied.

“Did you? You and I seem to be remembering differently,” said Eris, his voice dripping in annoyance. “I seem to recall that your two lap dogs, Azriel and Cassian, doing most of the work while you eye fucked your High Lady.”

A threatening growl emitted from Rhys. “Careful, Eris. You just claimed your title as High Lord. It would be a shame to pass it along so quickly.”

“Exactly, I just became High Lord. My powers have increased, Rhysand. I could incinerate you where you stand and I wouldn’t need to even move an inch,” Eris stated, folding his arms across his chest, looking down his nose at the High Lord of Night.

“What were you doing in Y/N’s room?” Rhysand asked.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” Eris commented. “This is my house, I can go where I like.”

“Stay away from her, Eris,” Rhysand sneered.

“Or what? Your shadowsinger will take me to his torture chamber?” Eris questions. “I don’t see how checking on someone after they have been crying the whole night is a valid reason to be tortured but I guess that is just how the Night Court works.”

“She was crying?” Rhysand asked, eyes darting to the closed door.

“Sobbing her heart out,” Eris said. “It was only when I comforted her did she stop.”

Rhysand glared at Eris. “Stay away from her.”

“Why? I seem to have done more than her friends did,” Eris retorted.

“I won’t warn you again, Eris,” Rhysand threatened.

A low chuckle slipped past Eris’s lips. “You seem to forget who you are talking to, Rhysand. I am the High Lord of this court. If you lay a finger on me, I am within my right to declare war against Night. And right now as it stands, the Autumn Court has more allies than the Night Court.” Eris took a step back and straightened his jacket. “I want you out of my court by midday. Y/N and Nesta are allowed to stay if they desire. They are the only two of your court I can abide having a conversation with.”

Eris turned on his heel and walked down the hallway just as Rhysand knocked on Y/N’s door. A faint ‘Go away’ was heard from the other side. Eris was not sure why but it made a smile tug at his lips.

***

Blood covered his hands and the dummy he had beat to a pulp. It was the third one Azriel had battered. The first two were thrown into the corner of the room haphazardly. There wasn’t a fourth one to use so Azriel immediately picked up the sharpest knives that were in the training room.

The ache in his chest hadn’t eased and it wasn’t because of the bargain. Something was lost in the Autumn Court; his hope. He had thought that his hope had been shattered beyond repair before. First with Mor and the next time with Gwyn. At least when he was with Elain, he never needed to cling to the hope of her being his mate.

As the first blade cut through the air, Azriel let out a long sigh. It was foolish to believe he would find his mate in Y/N. And Azriel did truly believe it for a time. There was no one else in the world that made him feel the way Y/N did. Even their transition from friendship into a relationship had been easy. He had always trusted her, confided in her, bonded with her. Azriel knew that his hope was shattered– for good this time. He couldn’t imagine a world where there would be someone better matched for him than Y/N.

Azriel threw the final blade in his hand and he watched as it missed the target completely and embedded itself into the stone pillar behind.

“Not only did you crack a glass, you now decide to begin destroying my home,” Cassian commented as he walked into the training room.

Azriel spared Cassian a quick glance before turning his back to him to grab bandages for his hands.

“You weren’t with us when we all came back from Autumn,” Cassian said. “Y/N said you left early.”

At the mention of her name, Azriel stiffened. “I came back last night.”

“Without Y/N?” Cassian questions.

Another person entered the room and the shadows around Azriel began to grow restless. He couldn’t handle any more questions.

“It seems as if you don’t know where your lover is either, Azriel,” Rhys commented. “I was wondering where she went after we arrived back here this morning. I was hoping she was with you.”

“If anything she is most likely at her cottage,” Azriel answered. His heart stung. Only hours ago he would have been calling it home. Their home.

“And do tell me that if she is there, why are you here?” Rhys questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You have a day off, typically we rarely see you.”

“You’ll be seeing a lot more of me,” Azriel growled as he wrapped his hands up.

Behind him, Cassian frowned, stepping closer to the shadowsinger, his eyes widening once he noticed his bloodied hands. “What happened to your hands?” Cassian asked.

Rhys inclined his head to the heap of training dummies in the corner of the room. “I assume Az is letting out some anger.”

“I’m not angry,” Azriel stated.

“Tell that to the dummies I now need to replace,” Cassian groaned.

Azriel turned his body to face his brothers, eyes cast down to the floor. “I will be returning to my room here. Only if that is okay with you, Cass.”

Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course. But why? You’ve been living with Y/N for nearly four years.”

“There won’t be any more,” Azriel responded.

The High Lord glanced at the open doors of the training room. “I see. I hope that this doesn’t affect the work the two of you occasionally do together.”

“I can be professional,” Azriel snapped, pulling on the end of the bandage too tight.

“Why did the two of you split up?” Cassian questioned, still looking utterly confused.

“I’d actually like to know that myself,” Rhys added.

“It’s none of your business,” Azriel retorted. “But you will pry regardless of what I say. All you need to know is that we were not compatible.”

Cassian snorted. “Not compatible my ass! Az, I’ve seen the way you look at her. You look at her like she is the centre of your universe, as if she was a goddess herself.”

“And how did she look at me?” Azriel asked, honestly curious. Though Cassian was rather talented at overexerting the truth, he wanted to know the way Y/N looked at him when he wasn’t looking. Did she look at him the same way? Or did she look at him the way many others did…in pity.

“I never really noticed a difference in the way she looked at you,” Cassian replied. “But she was… touchier with you than anyone else.”

Azriel deflated at Cassian’s answer. Did Y/N never look at him any other way but neutrally? Was he wrong about the connection they had the whole time?

“I see,” Azriel voiced.

Rhys’s gaze still bore into Azriel as if he were trying to read his body language but Azriel had gotten used to hiding how he feels so he was an expert in deception. There was a presence in his mind and Azriel knew that Rhys was lurking, just waiting for him to lower his walls to find out the true story. The walls in his mind remained impenetrable.

“I still don’t understand why your relationship ended,” Cassian wondered aloud. “You have been happier than you have in years.”

“Can you just leave it alone, Cassian!” Azriel snapped. “I do not want to talk about it anymore. Our relationship ended because of our incompatibility, that is all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Of course he told a lie, he had to. Azriel didn’t want to admit to his two happily mated brothers that the female who had lit up his life was mated to another– destined for a life of fiery love with a High Lord; it was what she deserved. He remembered the pity in their eyes when Gwyn had told him she had found her mate and Azriel never wished to be looked on like that again by anyone.

Once again, Cassian’s mouth opened as if to argue back but after quickly looking at Rhys, Cassian closed his mouth. Rhys’s orders were most likely whispered into his mind. Azriel was grateful.

“If you don’t mind, I need to go and collect my things,” Azriel stated, making his way towards the door.

Only after a few steps, however, it was as if the world was mocking him as Y/N appeared in the threshold. Azriel’s whole body went rigid as he looked at her. She looked exhausted.

“Az,” Y/N whispered.

For a split second, Azriel wanted to run back into her arms and pretend as if he were her mate instead. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and bury her head into her neck, breathing in her sweet intoxicating scent. They would return home and everything would be as it should.

After that second was up, Azriel’s face washed over with one made of stone. His expression didn’t change. Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a habit Azriel knew all too well. It indicated that she was nervous or uncomfortable. By the tension in the air, Azriel knew that she was feeling the latter.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, Azriel walked towards the open doorway, aiming to leave without a fuss. Y/N watched him the whole way, her eyebrows knitted together. His intention was to leave without a fuss but as Azriel walked past Y/N, his arm knocked her shoulder, causing her to stumble the smallest amount.

Azriel closed his eyes and continued his stride. He hadn’t meant to knock her. He was too focused on leaving that room that nothing else really mattered. But Azriel didn’t look back, he couldn’t– because the moment he did, he knew he would run back to her and beg on his knees for her to take him back.

Once Azriel was far enough away, he stopped and let his wings scrape on the floor, not having the energy to hold them up anymore. He looked down at his bandaged hands to find the blood soaking through the white fabric. With a clench of his fists, Azriel continued down the hall, trying to scrub any thought of Y/N from his mind.

***

Neither Rhys’s nor Cassian said anything as they stood motionless in the training room. Y/N didn’t have anything to say either as she took a small hesitant step inside. Did Azriel tell them? She thought. Though if she had to admit to herself, she didn’t want anyone knowing of her bond with Eris yet. She knew that nobody would take kindly to the news.

“What did you do to him, Y/N?” Cassian asked.

“I–” Y/N failed to find the words as she replayed Cassian’s question in her head. What did I do?

“Why do you assume I did something?” she questioned.

“You saw him,” said Cassian, gesturing to where Azriel disappeared. “I have never seen him that angry before.”

“Again,” Y/N repeated. “Why do you assume that I did something?”

“I don’t see you looking too upset,” Cassian scoffed.

Y/N frowned. “How do you know what I feel? Just because I am not punching and beating things up doesn’t mean that I am not upset.”

“Then why don’t you enlighten us and tell us why your relationship with Azriel ended,” Rhys chimed in. “Azriel is reluctant to tell us.”

“It is none of your business,” Y/N snapped. “It is private between Azriel and I.”

“And Eris,” Rhys added.

“What?” Y/N questioned.

“I watched him slip out of your room this morning,” Rhys commented, picking a piece of lint from his clothes.

“After he tried to comfort me after Azriel left me alone after the celebration,” Y/N explained, getting more irritated by the second. “If you dare to think anything else, Rhysand, mother help you.”

Rhys shrugged. “I wasn’t implying anything.”

Cassian who had silently stood beside Rhys spoke up. “Why don’t you go home, Y/N? Azriel is staying here and it doesn’t seem like he wants to see you.”

Y/N scoffed. “So if Azriel is upset then you don’t want me around? Why haven’t you assumed that I also want to be around my family? Or does that sentiment only extend to Azriel for the both of you? After all, I was never invited to family dinners by the both of you, that was always Feyre, Mor or Azriel’s job. It seems like I was only your family once Azriel and I were in a relationship, despite the fact that I have known you for around five hundred years.”

“Y/N–”

Cassian was cut off by Y/N’s hand. “No, it’s fine. I now know exactly where I stand.”

“You know we think of you as family,” Rhys cut in.

Saoire shook her head. “No, Rhys, you don’t. I see that clearly now.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian had the chance to respond as Y/N quickly left the room. She didn’t exactly know where she was going but all she knew was that she wanted to be alone. As she walked down the corridor, she could faintly smell the familiar scent of Azriel and Y/N’s eyes burned with unshed tears. She knew that there was no way to convince him to stay with her. Her soul was tied to someone else, the male she was fated to be with.

Eris Vanserra was someone Y/N had never met personally; only heard stories about– and most of the stories were not positive. Yet, when she danced with him last night, even if she wasn’t leaning into his fake flirtations, she had an amazing time dancing with him. Even this morning when he checked up on her after their mating bond snapped, he didn’t need to do that. And left the room when she asked him to. It was the bare minimum but they didn’t align with the stories of the cruel, evil, wicked High Lord that the Inner Circle had spoken about for many years.

Y/N shook her head, hoping to rid herself of thoughts about Eris and continued down the hallway. No destination in mind, all that she wanted to do was be alone and dive into her own research– anything to distract her from her reality.

Taglist:

@22hilda @lazypostfandomer @inkedinshadows @awkardnerd @azysmate @therealmoonstone @lets-talk-about-xyz @starryevermore @babypeapoddd @tothestarsandwhateverend @batboyrhyrhy @callsigns-haze @wildflowermooon @wildfloweroutlaw @acourtofbatboydreams @bookandtealover @queenoffeysand @the-sweet-psycho @the-starlight-way @curiosandcourioser @cheekym8s @honk4emoboyz @paleidiot @buckystevelove @that-girl-reading @readinggeeklmao @hextech-bros @scarsandallaz @paige0103 @k8r123-blog @asweetblueberry2 @bloodicka @eddsthemunson @fourthwing4ever @crypticme @that-one-bibliophole @lilah-asteria @sassybluebird @ninthcircleofprythian @imma-too-many-fandoms @happyt0exist @spiritualmooshroom @phoenix666stuff @imagoddessinmystories @sveretrice @stormieandateacup @impossibelle @opium-den

#acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #high lord eris #azriel x eris #eris acotar #eris x reader #azris

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marscardigan · 3 days ago

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too good to me

joel miller x reader

not a lot, just forever universe

summary: you woke up sick and joel takes care of you and clem.

warnings: mentions of sickness and throwing up.

You woke up suddenly, eyelids tired. Your throat felt like it was burning, skin and everything. You jumped out of the bed and almost tripped to your way to the bathroom. You were lucky you even had the time to throw up inside the toilet. Hurried steps were heard behind you, and the light from your hall made contrast with Joel’s large body.

When he found you almost passed out on the bathroom floor, with drool on your mouth, he got closer and grabbed your chin tenderly, cleaning you up with some napkin. “Can you hear me, hon?”

“I think I’m sick” you babbled, without breaking his gaze. “I feel like shit”

"Let me carry you back to be-" Your boyfriend couldn’t finish the sentence, because you vomited again. Joel grabbed your hair so you could be more comfortable. Minutes went by, and your urge to throw up disappeared. As Joel promised, he carried your tired body back to your shared bed.

“Do you need somethin’ else?” He whispered into your ear. You got closer to his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Just you, that’s all”

He smiled at your answer, and after leaving you inside the sheets, he put a warm blanket on top of you. You protested, “Joel, you will be too warm”

“I don’t give two shits about it right now. I only care about you getting better” He responded, getting inside the bed and hugging your back. “You’re too good to me”

A couple of hours later, you woke up with Clementine’s little laughs.

“No, no, baby, come here” Joel was outside the door. “Mommy needs to sleep more”

You smiled, picturing your two-year-old trapped in Joel’s big arms. “You can come in” Your voice sounded weak and dry, but happy somehow. The door opened and hurried tiny footsteps came by your side, jumping on top of the bed. “Morning mommy” Joel came, sitting with your daughter by your side. “You two are going to get sick if you get any closer”

Joel grabbed Clem and put her in his shoulders, and her laughter filled the whole room. “I’m going to take Clem to school, and later I’ll prepare you some soup or something”

You groaned at the thought. “Sounds awesome. Thank you” You said goodbye to your toddler and kissed your partner’s cheek, despite your complaints about you being sick.

The next time you opened your eyes, your head felt less heavy. The smell of soup flooded your nostrils. Joel wasn’t on your sight, and the house was oddly quiet. You finished your soup and walked to the bathroom, just to see it neatly clean. Joel must have cleaned the mess you made last night, you thought.

When Joel came back, he found your sleepy figure sat on the isle of the kitchen. You had tried to complete the shopping list, but your head started to get dizzy again. He laughed, and lifted your body with ease and laid you down to bed again. You woke up just before he could close the door. You called him out softly, your throat dry. He cursed something about waking you up, and he knelt by your side. “Are you better?” He looked worried, almost pouting. It was a beautiful contrast with how he normally looked.

“The soup was amazing, you are amazing. Feel bad you have to do everything today, though”

“Well, don’t be. Maria was delighted to be with Clem for the day. And it wasn’t a big deal, either” You scoffed, “it’s gonna be a big ass deal if I get you sick” Joel shrugged as if it didn’t matter at all. “Ellie asked about you”

Joel swore your eyes brightened with the teen’s name. “What did she say?”

“She bombarded me with questions about how could she help. She actually made - or tried to make - the soup”

“Can’t wait to tell her that was some of the beat soup I’ve ever tried, then” Your boyfriend’s gaze deepened with love, but he hid it and attempted to look offended,“Maybe I did help her a bit”

“You big ol’ softie”

Clementine appeared in your sight, with a colorful drawing. "I draw this for ya" She gave it to you, hiding her face in Joel's chest, a habit she took from you. "So you be good"

You smiled, gasping at the drawing. "It is wonderful, sweets" She then whispered something on Joel's ear, making him laugh. "Clem asks if she can give you a tiny kiss on the cheek"

You frowned, worried about the possibility of passing the fever to your toddler. As if Joel heard your thoughts, he rapidly denied, "she will be fine, she just needs her mum"

"Then I'm happy to help on that" Clementine's sweet lips left a kiss on your hot skin, and as an exchange, you stole her another kiss on her forehead, your daughter laughing at the surprise.

The next morning you woke up tired, but all clear from fever. You extended your arm to Joel’s side, only to find it empty and cold. You looked at the clock: eleven am. With a confused frown, you stood up and searched for your boyfriend, only to find him in the bathroom, grabbing Clementine’s little ponytail. Your daughter was complaining about the mess she was making, but Joel looked as if he couldn't hear her. He looked pale and exhausted, almost as if he hasn’t slept at all. Your head started to think about all the times you kissed them yesterday, even after your warnings.

“Please don’t tell me you two are sick” You said with guilt swimming inside your chest.

Ellie was the one who answered before Joel could, her voice coming from her own bathroom: “we all are!”

You looked at Joel, crossing your arms right beside your chest and lifting your eyebrows. "Told ya"

#joel miller #tlou fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic

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stuckinmymind22 · 2 days ago

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wise words | ace x gn!reader

and then it hit you - "you're in love with me"

wc: 1,127

tags: its just a bunch of fluff

series: "you're in love with me"

a/n: ik i said i'd post this tomorrow but i got too excited. this one ended up being much longer than i initially intended it to ngl i really like this one, it might be my favorite so far (both in the series and in general)

"ace," the whitebeard had said, making eye contact. the usage of his name told ace that whatever he had been about to say would be serious. "you are in love." pops had decided to have mercy on the boy, leaving ace alone to sit with what he had said, only slightly struggling to stand his nurses running after him. ace had been left frozen as he processed pop's words. it had felt like pieces falling into place and the world felt clearer. holy shit, he did love you

not proofread

ace had been treating you differently lately, that difference became starkly apparent when compared to how he acts with the rest of the crew. ace was known for being affectionate, both verbally and physically, especially when he gets a few drinks in him, but the way he acted around marco for example paled in comparison to the way that he would hang onto you.

ever since you returned from a mission just over a week ago he had barely left your side - that's not to say that you minded it, you had always had a bit of a thing for him and now you were starting to suspect he felt the same.

recently, you had discovered how he has been going out of his way to be around you. someone spilt the beans on how he has been taking over tasks assigned to other members just so he could be near you.

and here he was, high up on a mast helping you repair the edge of a sail that was damaged in a recent storm. a task that in all honesty was beneath him. a task you knew he hated, you remembered how he would complain about it.

ace kept poking his head around the side of the sail to talk to you, his eyes sparkled as you joked around and you found yourself getting lost in them. the two of you weren't exactly on task, you should've been done with this by now but no one has said anything and you weren't about to complain. you were basking in his warm company while trying to sus out how into you he was. the gears were turning then it hit you.

"holy shit," you say causing his head to snap to you in concern. you couldn't help but vocalize your revelation, "you're in love with me."

immediately, his playful smile fell as his face dropped, eyes going wide. out of all of the things he thought you might say, that was not even an option. still, he made no move to deny it

ace himself had only just realized the way he felt about you when pops, of all people, had called him out on it.

it all had happened after a banquet thrown in celebration of your return. you (along with several others) had just returned to the moby dick after a voyage to one of the islands under whitebeard's protection. the party had been dwindling down and you'd been making the rounds, and he'd been completely unable to keep his eyes off you, even when talking to pops his eyes consistently flickered over to you.

a small chuckle coming from pops was the thing that had pulled him away from you. "you're in deep, my son," the man said full of mirth. he had laughed even more at ace's confused face, "my boy, you are completely smitten."

"w-what do you mean?" ace had stuttered. his bright red face should have betrayed his look of confusion, but the puzzlement had been genuine.

"you haven't been able to take your eyes off of them since they returned. you struggled to even before they left," a light joyful laughter had broken whitebeard's speech, "haven't you noticed how you always gravitate towards them? don't you feel lighter when they are around?"

answering honestly ace had skeptically nodded to the line of questioning. the legendary pirate shook his head with a smile, muttering something about kids.

"ace," the old man had said, making eye contact. the usage of his name told ace that whatever he had been about to say would be serious. "you are in love."

pops had decided to have mercy on the boy, leaving ace alone to sit with what he had said, only slightly struggling to stand his nurses running after him.

ace had been left frozen as he processed pop's words. it had felt like pieces falling into place and the world felt clearer. holy shit, he did love you.

ace had stood in place for an undetermined amount of time, stewing in the realization. it had been marco who snapped ace out of his daze. after minor amounts of prodding, ace had confided in the doctor what pops said. to his surprise the first division commander had been relieved, telling ace that everyone on the ship seemed to know how the two of you felt about each other except for you two.

he wanted to believe you felt the same way, but he didn't want to hold onto false hope, despite what marco had said ace couldn't believe that you felt the same way, but he also knew he had a duty to tell you.

at the moment ace had no plans to make his feelings known (he hadn’t quite come up with anything yet, it was still new to him) and the last thing he expected was that you would figure it out on your own. to say the least he was caught off guard.

"am- am i right?" doubt and excitement are mixed into your question.

his face, all the way to the tips of his ears alight, the boy who was quite literally made of fire was burning up. ace nodded, the move paralleling a child caught doing something that they shouldn't be. he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes, but that all changed when at the edge of his vision, he saw a large smile blossom on your face.

you were so excited you didn't know what to do. you started to resent the fact that he was just outside of your reach when all you wanted to do at the moment is kiss him.

"let's get down, we can finish this later," you proposed. ace agreed to your plan with hesitation.

once both of your feet were firmly placed on the deck, you grabbed him by the necklace and he stumbled into your lips. ace was startled by your actions at first but he was quick to melt into the kiss. you dropped his necklace to hook your arms over his shoulders. his hands moved to frame your face, pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

the wolf whistles in the background all faded until they felt worlds away, as if all that existed in that moment was the two of you. reluctantly, the kiss was broken when the need for oxygen started to outweigh the need for each other's lips.

ace rested his forehead against yours as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. he couldn't help the massive smile that formed on his face - this went way better than he ever could have imagined.

masterlist | damn, that shit was so cute, patting myself on the back fr

#one piece #one piece x you #one piece x reader #ace x reader #one piece headcanons #ace fluff #one piece fluff #portgas ace x reader #fluff #fire fist ace x reader #ace x you #gn reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace fluff

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yassbishimvintage · 3 days ago

Text

Shut it Down

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

MDNI!

A/N: Merry Christmas y'all.

The sun was shining down in Imani’s face. She had to tear herself away from Terry this morning. Her sister Maya wanted to have breakfast with her to check in. “So now that he’s home how is he?” She asks. Imani sighs. She had to be careful of how she answered the next question. Even though Terry loved her family like his own, he still didn’t want to show weakness.

Imani sipped her coffee as her sister, Maya, watched her curiously from across the diner booth. They had always been close, and Maya could read her like a book. Setting her mug down, Imani took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"He’s... adjusting," Imani replied softly. "It’s been tough for him. Losing Mike, the stress of everything back in Shelby Springs... it’s a lot to process."

Maya nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. "That man has been through hell and back, hasn’t he?" she said. "But what about you? You okay? I know you’re strong, but you can’t pour from an empty cup, sis."

Imani smiled faintly at her sister's words. "I’m okay," she said, though the truth was more complicated. "I just want to be there for him, you know? He’s carrying so much, and I can see it weighing on him. Some days he’s better, but others... it’s like he’s still fighting a battle, just in his head now."

Maya reached across the table and placed her hand over Imani’s. "You’re doing more than enough, Imani. He’s lucky to have you. But make sure he knows it’s okay to lean on you, really lean on you. Sometimes men like him think they have to bear it all alone."

Imani nodded. "I try to remind him of that every day," she said. "Last night, he... he let me in a little more. It’s progress, I guess. I just want him to see that he’s not alone anymore."

Maya leaned back, studying her sister. "You love him, don’t you?"

"With everything in me," Imani said without hesitation.

Maya smiled. "Then he’s got a fighting chance. But don’t forget—taking care of yourself is part of taking care of him. Don’t lose sight of that."

Imani gave her sister a grateful look, appreciating the reminder. "I won’t," she promised. "Thanks, Maya."

"Anytime," Maya said with a wink. "Now, tell me more about this roast beef dinner you made last night. I’m starting to think you’re spoiling that man."

Imani chuckled. "I might be. But he deserves it."

They spent the rest of breakfast laughing and catching up, Imani feeling lighter after the conversation. She had her sister's support, and that meant everything.She smirks. “Now. How’s the sex?” She asks. Imani nearly choked on her coffee, her eyes widening as she looked at Maya. "Really? That’s what you’re asking me right now?" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

Maya raised an eyebrow, unbothered by Imani’s reaction. "Of course, I’m asking. You’ve been glowing lately, so either it’s the sex, or you’ve found a new skincare routine, and I know you too well to believe the latter."

Imani rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. "It’s… amazing, as always," she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. "He’s just... so attentive. Like, he takes his time, you know? Makes sure I’m good before anything else."

Maya leaned in, her interest clearly piqued. "Girl, go on. Don’t leave me hanging."

Imani laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s just say he knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t say it. And he’s so... gentle with me, but not too gentle, if you know what I mean."

Maya grinned mischievously. "Oh, I know what you mean. Big, strong, marine boyfriend who’s soft for you but can turn it up when needed? Imani, you’re living the dream."

Imani blushed but couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, enough about my sex life. How’s yours?"

Maya waved her hand dismissively. "Nonexistent at the moment, but that’s fine. I’m focused on me right now. But seriously, I’m happy for you. It sounds like Terry really sees you and loves you the way you deserve."

Imani nodded, her expression softening. "He does. And I don’t take that for granted, not for a second."

Maya raised her coffee mug in a toast. "To men who love us right and know how to handle business."

Imani laughed, clinking her mug against her sister’s. "I’ll drink to that.” Maya turns her head to glance out the window. She sees a black GMC Dua..ley pull into the parking lot. “Who’s that?” she asks.

Imani turned to look where Maya was pointing and spotted the large GMC Dually parked a few spaces away. The truck was pristine, its black paint gleaming under the morning sun, with chrome accents that looked freshly polished. It stood out among the sedans and SUVs in the lot.

Imani raised an eyebrow, recognizing it immediately. "That’s Terry’s truck."

Maya’s eyes widened as she leaned closer to the window. "Wait, he followed you here? What is he, your bodyguard now?"

Imani couldn’t help but chuckle. "No, he probably just wanted to check in on me. You know how he is."

Maya smirked. "Yeah, overprotective and a little territorial. But honestly, can you blame him? Look at you."

Imani rolled her eyes but smiled, gathering her things. "Come on, let’s go say hi before he thinks I’m avoiding him."

As they stepped outside, Terry climbed out of the truck, his towering frame and confident stride impossible to miss. He wore a simple fitted T-shirt and jeans, but the way he carried himself made him look effortlessly commanding.

"Hey, babe," Imani called, walking up to him. "What are you doing here?"

Terry flashed her a small smile, his eyes softening when they met hers. "Just wanted to see you. Figured you might want to grab lunch after you’re done with your sister."

Maya crossed her arms, looking between them with a teasing grin. "You’re setting the bar way too high for the rest of us, Terry. Showing up unannounced just to take her to lunch?"

Terry shrugged, his smile turning a bit sheepish. "What can I say? I like spending time with her."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. "Well, since you’re here, why don’t you come sit with us for a bit?"

Terry glanced at Maya, who raised her hands in mock surrender. "Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll keep the embarrassing sister stories to a minimum."

He chuckled, holding the door open for both women. "Appreciate that."

Maya smirks and quickly asks him. “So tell me Mr Marine. What kind of sex spell you got on my little sister.” She says

Terry paused mid-step, his brow arching as a slow smirk spread across his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement. He glanced at Imani, who was already groaning in embarrassment, her hand covering her face.

"Maya!" Imani hissed, shooting her sister a glare.

"What?" Maya said innocently, shrugging as she took her seat. "I’m just saying. She’s been glowing since y’all got together, and I’m convinced it’s not just the happy weight."

Terry chuckled, taking the chair beside Imani and resting an arm casually on the back of her seat. His eyes flicked to Maya with a mischievous gleam. "Let’s just say I aim to please," he said smoothly, his tone playful but carrying enough weight to make Maya blink in surprise.

Imani gasped, turning to him. "Terry!"

He laughed, leaning over to kiss her temple. "What? She asked."

Maya burst out laughing, clapping her hands. "Alright, I see you, Marine. No wonder she’s hooked."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "You’re impossible, both of you."

Maya grinned, picking up her coffee. "Hey, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so happy all the time. If it’s because of him, then props to you, Terry. You’re doing something right."

Terry shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at Imani. "She deserves to be happy. That’s all that matters to me."

Maya tilted her head, a rare seriousness settling in her tone. "Well, as long as you keep that mindset, we’re good. I’m just looking out for my baby sister."

Terry nodded, his voice steady. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

Imani glanced between the two, her heart full as she reached for Terry’s hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

When she gets in his truck she rests her head on the glass. Everytime he drives his hand rests on her thigh.

As Terry drove, the hum of the engine and the subtle rhythm of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between them. Imani leaned her head against the cool window, her thoughts wandering as the scenery blurred past. The warmth of Terry’s hand resting on her thigh was a steadying comfort, grounding her in the moment.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about their bond. His thumb moved in absentminded circles, a habit he had whenever his hand found its home there. She glanced down at it and smiled softly, her fingers drifting to rest lightly over his.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

She turned her head slightly to look at him, the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how his eyes flicked between her and the road. "I’m okay," she replied, her voice gentle. "Just thinking."

Terry gave her thigh a small squeeze, his way of saying he was there for her without needing words. "About what?"

"About how much I love this," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before returning to the passing view outside.

"This?" he asked, his brow arching slightly.

"This," she repeated, covering his hand with hers. "The little things. You driving us, your hand here...it’s just us. I love it."

Terry smiled, his expression softening as he gave her thigh another squeeze. "I love it too," he said simply.

And with that, they fell back into a comfortable silence, letting the unspoken connection between them speak louder than words ever could.

He pulls over. She lifts her head up confused. Terry eased the truck onto the shoulder of the quiet road, the hum of the engine settling into a low idle. He turned to her, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let’s play 'wandering hand,'" he said, his voice deep and teasing, the hint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Imani couldn't help but roll her eyes, though a soft laugh escaped her. "Terry," she said, her tone half-amused, half-scolding.

"What?" he replied, feigning innocence as his free hand left the steering wheel and settled on her knee. "You know the rules."

His fingers began their slow, deliberate journey, trailing up her thigh in featherlight strokes that sent a shiver through her. Imani pressed her lips together, trying to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingered just enough to tease made her heart race.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice.

"And you love it," he shot back, his grin widening as his hand slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Imani reached out, placing her hand over his to halt his progress, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her resolve. "You’re going to get us caught, Terry."

"We’re parked," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent heat spiraling through her. "And it’s not like anyone’s around."

She bit her lip, trying to resist the pull of his charm, but when his lips brushed against her neck and his hand resumed its exploration, resistance became futile. "You’re lucky I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky as she gave in to the moment.

His soft chuckle against her skin was his only reply as the game of "wandering hand" took on a life of its own, the world outside the truck fading into the background.

Terry’s hand paused at the waistband of her panties, his fingers teasingly slipping just beneath the fabric. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, “You gonna let me keep going, baby?”

Imani’s breath hitched, her body responding before her mind could form words. She glanced at him, her gaze caught in the intensity of his eyes. “Terry...” she began, her voice soft, laced with a mix of hesitation and desire.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her hip, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice calm but thick with want. “But if you want me to keep going... I need to hear you say it.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as she let out a shaky exhale. The heat of his hand, the gentle yet deliberate pressure of his touch, sent sparks skittering through her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her words barely audible, but they carried all the permission he needed.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips with his as his hand slid lower, exploring her with the same care and attention that always left her breathless. The world outside the truck was forgotten entirely as they lost themselves in each other, the quiet intimacy between them deepening with every touch and kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and tangled in the charged energy of the moment, Terry rested his forehead against hers. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

Imani smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Right back at you,” she replied softly, her hands resting on his shoulders as the truck’s engine purred quietly in the background.

“Now I’m turned on and we’re no where near home.” She says.

Terry smirked, his eyes darkening with mischief. “Who said we need to be home for me to take care of you?” he teased, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Imani raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so you’re bold now, huh?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer so his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve always been bold, baby. You just bring it out of me.”

Her cheeks flushed as she swatted at his chest. “Terry, you’re impossible.”

He grinned, his hand still resting possessively on her thigh. “Only for you.”

His hand moved up her thigh as they drove down the road. His thumb doing lazy circles on her exposed skin.

As Terry’s hand moved higher up her thigh, Imani let out a soft breath, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. She glanced over at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes as his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles. Her heart raced a little, the anticipation of their playful energy making her pulse quicken.

That’s when she couldn’t take it anymore. Not the first time and won’t be the last time they had car sex. In her head she thanks him for the dark tint on the windows. Imani maneuvers herself over the console. She straddles him. “You know I hate car sex.” She says.

Terry chuckles softly, his hands resting on her hips as she straddles him. “You always say that, but then you seem to enjoy it once we get started.” He smirks, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks.

Imani laughs quietly, leaning in closer. “It’s the lack of space. I like to take my time,” she responds, her hands sliding up his chest as she finds comfort in the familiar closeness of his body.

He presses his forehead to hers, his voice turning playful but with a touch of sincerity. “If you don’t like it, we can always find somewhere else next time.”

She smiles, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Next time,” she repeats softly, her fingers trailing down his chest, slowly teasing. “But for now...” she leans in, kissing him deeply as her body melts into his.

Terry, ever responsive to her, deepens the kiss, his hands moving to the small of her back to pull her even closer. As the moment lingers, they forget about the cramped space, lost in the connection they share.

“Now. Let me hear you moan for me real fast.” He says. She moans as his hands reach their destination. One thing that always made sure that made him on rock hard was her moans. In the next breath, “Now. Tell me you love me.” He says.

As they arrived at their destination, Imani instinctively reached for Terry's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She gave it a gentle squeeze, glancing up at him with a soft smile.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Terry nodded, his grip on her hand firm yet tender. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything,” he replied, his tone carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @haechvn @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @notpradagurl7 @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque

#terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black oc #aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #aaron pierre smut #Spotify

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thedemoninme141 · 1 day ago

Text

The Maiden Of Death Part 2

Summary: You finally needed Wednesday for something and she learns some interesting things about you in exchange and yet she wants to know more.

Part 1

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 5.8K-ish Warnings: Nothing Really? I guess roles reversed by Wednesday getting her feelings hurt just a tiny bit so a little angst?

The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.

Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.

Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.

But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.

Why?

The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?

Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.

The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.

“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”

The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.

Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”

Still, you said nothing.

Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.

You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?

She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.

But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.

You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.

No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.

Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”

They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.

“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.

“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”

“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.

Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."

“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.

Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"

Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.

As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.

“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.

“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”

“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”

Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.

Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.

Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.

The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”

She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.

“Is Wednesday here?” you asked.

Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.

She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.

The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”

The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice", Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?

“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”

The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?

“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.

Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.

“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.

“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins, Wednesday,” you said.

It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.

And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.

“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”

You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.

Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?

The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.

Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.

Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.

It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.

As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.

Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.

The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.

Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”

Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”

One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.

“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,” Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”

Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”

You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.

Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.

“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”

Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.

Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.

Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”

You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.

“What’s in the book?” she asked,

“Information,” you replied simply.

She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”

“Not me.”

The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.

“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”

Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.

That smirk.

She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.

It was... unsettling.

Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.

“Why are you really here?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.

“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why?” she pressed.

“I had work.”

“Work?”

“Demon hunting.”

It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.

“What… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”

The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.

Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.

“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.

You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”

It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?

“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.

She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.

“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”

You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.

The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”

Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.

Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.

Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”

This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”

You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.

The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.

When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.

This was it.

For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.

As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”

You turned fully now, facing her.

She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity

Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”

“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”

She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.

“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.

You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.

She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.

She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.

When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,

“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.

“I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”

Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”

Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”

“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”

Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”

Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”

“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”

“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”

“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”

Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?

“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”

“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.

Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.

“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"

"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.

“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”

Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”

“No.”

“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.

Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”

“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.

"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”

Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”

“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”

Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”

Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.

“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.

“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.” Wednesday replied, stepping into position.

Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Where are you?

You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.

Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.

“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.

The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.

Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.

It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.

You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.

She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.

Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”

Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.

“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.

"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.

After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.

Evidently, she was wrong.

She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.

When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.

She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.

As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.

She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”

“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.

“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.

“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.

Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”

The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

But she would never let you see it.

“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.

Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.

And yet, when class ended, you approached her.

“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”

Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.

[A/n: Tried another new route, in most fics I see that it is the reader character who earns Wednesday's smile, so I thought I should reverse the roles a bit, how did you guys like this one?]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 3 days ago

Text

First Last Christmas

Word Count - 17.3k

Summary - Jack is starting to think this isn't his best idea, and Idris is starting to maybe regret her choice. Maybe agreeing so quickly to spend the holidays with her baby daddy who she broke up with 3 months isn't the best idea.

Warnings - none. just some family drama but who doesn't have family drama during the hoildays.

Author's Note: It is finally complete. Thank you for everyone who reads this AU and has been excited for this to come out. Thank you Allie for being my beta reader for a good 75 percent of this fic even though she's on vacation. 🫶🏻🫶🏻 This is the longest fic I have ever written so be kind. Consider this my Christmas present from me to you even if it's a little past midnight. 😂

Till Forever Falls Apart Masterlist

Roughly 2 weeks before Christmas…

Idris could physically feel her hand shaking as she rode up the elevator to her old condo - now known as only Jack’s and Luke’s - and it wasn’t anxiety that also made her cheeks feel flushed, it was anger. Idris was so angry with Jack that she could feel her jaw starting to hurt from how tight she clenched her teeth. She looked down at her phone to see if he thought to answer any of her messages about Christmas only to see a text from him asking her to text him when she was leaving her place with the kids. She found herself shaking her head in disbelief as she exited the elevator making the sharp right turn to walk down the hall to knock on her - she still couldn’t bring herself to think of Jack as anything other than Jack, the word ex made her stomach turn and she couldn’t call him her fiance anymore, she could say baby daddy but that only described the relation he had to their children not the impact he had on her, her heart, her life, so he was just - Jack.

Taking a deep breath she stood in front of apartment 725, trying to make herself calm down even just a little before she faced him, she knocked heavily on the door. Jack answered almost immediately, it’s expected he was expecting her to drop the kids off to him on his day off. But the kids are still over at her little cozy apartment spending time with their Uncle Luke and Uncle Nico, because she needed time to talk to Jack about how he’s been avoiding all of her calls and texts about Christmas.

“Hey guy-” He didn’t finish his greeting that was meant for his children and his smile dropped as his eyebrows frowned ever so slightly when he realized the kids weren’t with her. Idris isn’t sure if it was a conscious act or not, as he slightly boxed himself into the doorway more as if to not let her into his space. Even if it was a place that she decorated herself with him years ago, before Luke even joined the NHL and lived with them, before they ever even fell into their friends with benefits situation, back when Jack was just her guy best friend who she just so happened to meet due to a one night stand. Back when he was 19 and just got his first apartment and Jill was still stocking his fridge when he was due to come back from long roadies. “Where are the kids?” he sighed as he questioned her, as if he didn't have time for whatever she was planning. ‘Too bad’ Idris thought to herself, ‘Christmas is two weeks away and we have two children who believe in Santa. Time to act like an adult.’

“At my place with Luke and Nico. I needed to talk to you and I didn’t want listenin’ ears.” she explained, but she didn’t miss the way that Jack crossed his arms and looked annoyed.

“So that’s why Luke was up so early this morning. Course he just had to run off to help you.” he snapped bitterly and Idris was finding it hard not to yell at him. ‘This is about the kids. Christmas. Kids. Christmas.’ she kept repeating to herself trying to get herself not to be roped into another useless fight with the man in front of her.

“Jack, we both know he’s not doing it for me. He’s doing it because he loves his niece and nephew.” Idris tried reasoning with him. “But that’s not why I came here. Can you let me in? I really don’t want to do this in the hall.” Jack flashed an unreadable expression on his face, something unmistakingly softer than earlier, almost looking like the old Jack for a millisecond and then it was gone as quick as it came, as he stepped aside giving Idris room to step into the apartment.

Idris couldn’t stop herself from word vomiting as she noticed that no decorations were out for Christmas, not even the children’s stockings were hung. “Where is the tree?” she asks as she slips her scarf and gloves, gently placing them in her coat pocket as she places it on the back of the chair, her heeled booties already off by the door looking like they never left beside her children’s and Jack’s array of shoes.

“Didn’t feel like decorating.” he mumbled as he walked past her and sat down on the coach in the living room. “What do you want, Idris?” he asks as he picks back up his controller, Idris was fully prepared to scream thinking he was going to resume his game but was surprised and maybe even a little grateful when she realized he was just turning it off.

“Well even if you don’t you “feel like it.” Zander is old enough to notice Jack.” she tries to speak softly, so it doesn’t come off as judgmental as she wants to be. Although her words still have a sharpness to them. “We need to talk about Christmas. You haven’t answered a single of the hundreds of texts I’ve sent trying to plan with you.” Idris adds, as she is reminded of the reason she came over in the first place, ‘the kids. Christmas.’

“Well maybe I didn’t feel like decorating this year.” he snaps, it isn’t harsh, kind of like how he snaps at the media when they repeat a question or ask something that isn’t logical, like the time they said ‘Quinn was like a brother to Jack.’ when he is in fact Jack’s older brother. But still, even if it wasn’t harsh, a little over a year ago, he would never even think to give her attitude when she’s just trying to be a good mom to their kids. “Also I liked the message Iddy. I got the toy alright.” he huffs, and it takes everything in Idris not to scream at the man sitting in front of her, manspreading, arms crossed, as if she is wasting his time.

“That’s not the point and you know it. Cool you got a toy off the internet congrats on doing the absolute bare minimum. For god sakes you haven’t even decorated Jack! Christmas is literally 2 weeks away! What the hell! I thought we agreed that the kids' happiness came first! And that includes Christmas. Do you think I wanted to decorate by my fucking self this year! No. Do you think I want to be standing here begging for you to look at me so we can talk about where our children are spending Christmas! No. I much rather be curled in bed with Luna doing nothing but here I am. Here I am! I am trying to co-parent with you! But how can I when you don’t answer any of my texts or calls trying to talk about what we're gonna do!” Idris yells, she doesn’t feel better, she feels like shit, she always does when she’s fighting with Jack, as if he is a vacuum that sucks all the energy out of her. She’s also close to tears, but Idris has always been one of those people that cry when she’s so angry she can barely think coherently. She looks at Jack from across the room and waits, waits for him to care enough to answer her.

“I’m off for Christmas break, I thought the answer was obvious. I’m taking ‘em home to the lakehouse.” Whether it’s because Jack is speaking softly or the drumming in Idris’ ears is too loud from the anger she feels, she looks at him with disbelief.

“What?” she breaths out.

“Imma take ‘em home, Idris. You had them for Thanksgiving. It’s only fair I have them for Christmas.” Jack is standing now as if he’s preparing for a fight with her, but she can’t bring herself to fight, her body is in shock. Jack might have been an asshole and maybe that’s why she left, but he was never cruel and taking her children away from her on Christmas was cruel.

“I took them to Ann Arbour for the long weekend to spend time with my family. I drove to the lakehouse 2 ½ hours away both ways so they could see their Uncle Quinn, your brother Jack. Then not even 30 hours later, I made the drive again so they could see you and Luke on Sunday. And spend time with you on the day you were free from hockey. Then I drove home alone” her voice cracked, she wished it hadn’t but it did and a dam of tears started streaming down her face like a hurricane banging on a screen door in the summer night. Suddenly Jack’s stomach started to hurt and his socks looked much more interesting than Iddy’s face. “I drove home alone. Crying because of you! Because your words you had with me about not being there sooner with them! About how I was trying to ruin the holidays. So no.” Idris took a deep breath using her hands to speak as she made air quotes as she spoke “ I didn’t ‘get them for thanksgiving’ I shared them with you, and your family even if you weren’t there. I tried to be fair, and mind you I did it without talking to you because you refused to just like you are now. I know that you hate me for leaving, and I can live with that. But what I can’t live with is battling against me every goddamn fucking day because you’re not adult enough to have a fucking conversation about what’s best the kids. Because you know who you’re hurting when you do that Jack?” she asks him and Jack glances up from his feet feeling like he’s being scolded by his mother, deciding that it was probably a rhetorical question. “You might think it’s me, but it’s our kids. Zander doesn't understand why his mama and daddy live apart now. Zola who adores her father and who still is her favorite person, and she might be little but she isn’t stupid, she can feel the tension when we’re in the same room. If you want to spend your Christmas break at home fine but I am not spending Christmas without my kids.” Idris’ feels a migraine starting to brew with the amount of stress she is having, as she glances at the family room clock and realizes she’s been here for 10 minutes and nothing productive has been done. She runs her hands through her hair, its shorter now since she cut it, shaking it out and pulling at it, as if pulling on her scalp will lessen the stress.

“So you wanna stay here?” the confusion is clear in his voice, she doesn’t have to look at him to know that.

“No.” She exhales, looking up making eye-contact with him, his blue eyes boring into hers, it doesn’t matter the history when he looks at her at that all dumbfounded and confused like only she can bring him out of it, it makes her knees go weak. “We’re always home for Christmas. It’s just harder now.”

“Because you left.” He mumbles to himself.

“Actually not what I was thinking, more like Zander believes in Santa and all gifts for everyone and the kids have been shipped here. And how are we gonna get all the kids gifts in 2 checked bags, plus their strollers, and diapers and everything else they need for traveling. Let alone the fact we have Apollo and Luna now, and checking them into the animal hotel was fine for Thanksgiving but the kiddos missed them and cried about it all week.”

The more Idris talks, the more it’s obvious how much thought she has actually put into this, and Jack feels guilty for causing her so much anxiety knowing that if he just wasn’t so stubborn they could have figured this out around Thanksgiving and not waited till 2 weeks before. Plus, if Jack was being honest with himself, he would have procrastinated even longer having this conversation with Iddy if she didn’t just show up on his doorstep and force him to talk. He was still so mad at her for leaving, he knew they were in a bad place, but he didn’t know it was that bad. Idris settles on the couch opposite of Jack and puts her hands on her head, leaning forward resting her elbows on her knees and Jack flinches; she only does that when she’s starting to get a migraine which she only gets because of stress. Stress that Jack caused and that doesn’t sit right with him.

Jack's mouth slightly twitches, his palms getting slightly sweaty as he squeezes his knees with them and fights internally with himself. If this was even 10 weeks ago, he would walk over to her and hold her and tell her everything was gonna be okay. But that was before, and even though he knew he was only lying to himself to make himself feel better, he hasn’t done that in almost a year, holding her when she got too stressed out. Most of the time he just blamed her for working too much, or putting herself in the position she was in. “Fuck it” he mumbles to himself as he gets up and goes in front of Iddy, sitting on his knees as softly calls her name grabbing her hands as they are in little balls now and he knows she’s using her nails to put pressure on them, sighing when he sees all the little bright red half moon imprints. “Idz.” he whispers, a nickname only he uses, he hasn’t used it in months but he hopes it helps bring her out of her head and back to him.

“Idz, I’m sorry,” he speaks softly, and he grins when she finally looks at him. “You’re right I haven’t been good at communicating when it comes to the kids and it is selfish of me. And I knew it was stressing you out and I didn’t care. I’m sorry Idz.” His hand twitched in hers, he wanted to bring her palms up to his lips and softly kiss each mark she inflicted on herself but he didn’t wanna push it. She was letting him hold her hand, after he was a dick for weeks to her, simply for choosing herself. He settled on rubbing small circles with his thumbs into her hands. “Comeon’ Idz let’s look at a calendar ya?” He asks he still won’t speak above a whisper, he doesn’t want to shout anymore, he’s tired and he wants to finish planning so he can go pick up his kids and play with them before he has to drop them back off at Iddys because he has a 6 am morning skate time tomorrow due to being a game day.

“Why that still doesn’t answer the question of where?” She squeaks out, and his heart hurts that she doesn’t get that they can go to Michigan and be home.

“Iddy we’ve always gone home and that doesn’t have to change okay? I’ll drive up with all the presents if I have to alright?”

“What about Apollo and Luna, you know she doesn’t like car rides or the plane but I don’t wanna leave her.” Jack resists the urge to take his thumb and pull at her bottom lip she’s chewing on, he hates when she chews on her lip as cute as it might look, because she never stops until it chewed raw, usually bleeding.

“We can take Luna to the vet to get medicine to help with the car ride alright? And I can take them in the car. okay?” He’s not really asking if he can take them more if she has any questions about his plan so far.

“Okay but where in Michigan.”

“At home Idz.” He doesn’t have to say it, she knows there are only two places he calls home in Michigan, his moms and dads house he spent a few teenage years in, and the lakehouse he owned with Quinn. They have always hosted Christmas at the lakehouse for as long as they’ve owned it.

“That doesn’t answer where I will stay? I don’t want to be away from the kids when they wake up on Christmas Day. This is the first year Zander is starting to understand the concept of Santa, I don’t wanna miss his face when he sees all the presents under the tree and all the cookies he laid out gone.”

Jack chuckles, not because of her reasoning but because he can see Zander screaming his head off Christmas morning. It takes everything in him not to let his pet name for her slip, his heart aches, its moments like this he wishes they were still together, but if they were together they wouldn’t be debating where to spend Christmas. “You can stay at the house, Iddy, it’s as much yours as it is mine or Quinn’s. I mean you were there when we picked it out, there when we signed for it, definitely was the one in charge of furnishing it.”

She made a face as she asked “isn’t that weird?”

“Who cares if it’s weird? When have we ever been normal?” he chuckles trying to break the tension that was still left in the air.

“What most people don’t have two kids with a one night stand?” Iddy asks sarcastically and they both laugh, the mood finally lightening up for the first time since she arrived.

So it was settled Idris would be spending Christmas week at the lakehouse, she would fly in with the kids the Friday before Christmas out of Newark airport where Jack dropped them off. She will first drive to her parents and spend the night hanging out there so they can see their grandchildren they don’t see enough of. Idris and the kiddos will spend the night at her sister's little townhouse, because she didn’t think she would want to drive the 2 ½ hours to the lakehouse that late. If she was by herself she wouldn’t care, but she really tried hard to keep the kids on their routine when they were with her and that included bathed and in bed by 7. The next day they’ll drive up to the lake house where they will spend a few days alone before Jack arrives Monday night with Apollo and Luna with him. Luke and the rest of the family already decided not to arrive until Christmas Eve, Luke even brought his plane ticket already and they will spend Christmas together. It seemed simple enough, what could go wrong? At least they had a plan now.

After talking everything out, Idris felt much better, they even talked about the kids' gifts and who was getting what, what was Santa’s and what was from them. They both agreed the kids were too little and it was too petty to separate the gifts they gave their children ‘from daddy’ or ‘from mama.’ Everything that wasn’t Santa came from them as a unit, even if they didn’t work together all that well.

“Wait.” she gasps as Jack starts to stand, but if Idris says wait he will, even if his body is in an awkward position half standing, half bent over. Jack can’t help but think that this position probably isn’t good for his shoulder since he’s putting all his weight on it. But he didn’t care, if it earned him brownie points with Idris. She softly pulled him down to the position he was before and he was grateful he didn’t have to feel the tension in his shoulder anymore. “I don’t want to get to the house 3 days before Christmas and have to decorate yet another house for Christmas.” Usually they decorated together the weekend after Thanksgiving. If they were up there, his mom would always come and help Iddy since Jack never had much time in the mist of the season. But at least that way they never had to stress over it when they were only up there for Christmas break for a few days.

“Why don’t I ask my mom for help?” he asks, normally he would just tell her he was going to ask his mom. But now with the separation, everything felt off on its axis like he needed permission before he offered a solution. She didn’t reject it right away so Jack took it as an invitation to keep going, “she loves decorating for Christmas Idz, I’m sure her and dad can run up and put the tree together and everything before you and the kids get there.”

“That’s a lot to ask of them.” She’s biting her lip again and Jack bites his as a response, ‘please stop baby, you're gonna make yourself bleed.’ But it’s not his place anymore to say that even if it makes him sick watching her do it and not saying anything.

Jack sighs, he knows they wouldn’t mind, they would be happy to help. But he also knows the way Iddy grew up wasn’t the way he did, and every favor even if it was a family member came at a price to her. Jack, no matter how hard he tried over the years could never get that out of her head. “You know they would do anything for you.” He says as he looks into her eyes, grateful she’s finally making eye-contact with him. He could have said ‘for the kids’ or ‘for me’ but he knew it held more weight if he said the truth. Decorating was going to ease Iddys to-do list, not his and the kids honestly probably wouldn’t care they are still so little. But it matters to Idris for some reason to make this Christmas perfect, so he was gonna try his damn hardest to help her. She nods a ‘okay’ and Jack smiles, probably for the first time in days except after he scored a goal last night and had a celly on the ice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday December 20,2024

It should be easy enough, flying with the kids by herself. Idris didn’t think it would be difficult, it’s not the first time either of them have been on a plane. She has flown with both of them with Jack plenty of times, even all the way to Vancouver once to visit Quinn. She even flew without him with the kids over Thanksgiving and that is the busiest time of year to travel. Thankfully, she didn’t have to lug too much around just enough stuff for them for night and a few winter items for the kids that she knew weren't in the lakehouse due to their fast growing bodies. It was fine in the beginning, Zander was in that phase where he loved being a helper, but it made a turn for the worse quickly. Jack had decided that he didn’t want to just drop them at the door, but help her check in, even though she had carried even more by herself less than a month ago. But she didn’t want to bicker when he was trying to be nice. Zander wanted to help so Jack let him ‘push’ one of the suitcases, really Jack was pushing it with his foot, sometimes grabbing it to steer. Zander didn’t seem to notice, focused on the task at hand, pushing the suitcase across the parking garage floor. It was cute how happy her son was at his father’s compliments. “Good job Z. Keep going buddy.” Idris was busy wearing the diaper backpack bag, holding Zola, and the carrier in her other hand that she decided she didn’t need to wear yet. She was pushing her carry-on suitcase with her hand following behind Jack who had both car seats (because all though it isn’t a rule, Idris will be damned if her kids aren’t secure 35,000 feet in the air.)

At one point Zander got distracted by the sound of a car coming down the ramp, it was a loud high pitch sound, he never did like loud sounds, he jumped he would have hit his hand on the handle of the suitcase if Jack’s hand wasn’t there. “I scared.” Zander mumbled, as he looked up at his dad and decided to hang on to his leg. Idris could tell that he was pulling at Jack, trying to get him to open his legs more so Zander could attempt to hide himself in them. The car skeeted past them and it took everything in Jack not to yell at them for being an asshole and scaring his kid. “Daddy?” Zander whined, and it hurt him. He hated seeing his kids upset even if it was something as simple as getting spooked by a loud sound. He could hear Idris behind him, trying to calm a fussy Zola who also didn’t appreciate the unexpected noise.

Jack squatted to the ground to be eye-level with his son, gently putting each car seat down, using his knee to keep the giant suitcase from rolling away. Zander didn’t wait to be comforted, he jumped into his arms and Jack embraced him cooing in his ear that it was alright. Idris was suddenly grateful that Jack insisted on dropping them off three hours ahead of time instead of the normal two, because they haven’t even made it out of the parking garage and they’ve been here almost 20 minutes. Zander wanted his mom to carry him once he was calm and as much as she wanted to explain she couldn’t, she didn’t. Instead she handed Zola to Jack and stripped herself of the backpack and her winter coat momentarily to put to strap her carrier on. Then she put back on her winter coat, grabbed Zola and set her inside. Then gently, bending down she put the backpack on and picked Zander up and balanced him on her hip. Jack stared at her, as if this was the hottest thing she had ever done in front of him. He knew no one else probably found it attractive, but watching Idris be a mom always made the pit of his stomach warm, at least he wasn’t sporting a semi in public due to his baby-mama he wasn’t even with he thought to himself.

“Ready?” she breathes out. Jack knows it’s directed at her, but his throat feels dry with where his mind was going as he was watching her, so he just nods. Picking up both bulky car seats, he tries to push the carry-on suitcase with his leg which he is successful. But he can’t really steer as well as he thought he could. ‘Maybe it was good Zander was helping him’ he thought to himself. “J I got it.” grabbing the suitcase and rolling it on her side, Jack wasn’t sure how she was able to push both suitcases, and hold both kids.

Somehow it was smooth sailing from there, Jack stayed until Idris was done checking in, bags checked. The bag she was originally going to use as a carry-on she decided to check because she didn’t want to lug another thing around if she didn’t have to. Zander decided he could stand now and wanted to be a helper so Idris let him hold her phone. He was honestly too little to carry a car-seat or wear the diaper bag, and although he has carried Zola before it wasn’t for long distances, they are practically the same size after all.

Saying goodbye to Jack was weird, not for the kids, they were fine. But this was the first time they have really said a goodbye before one of them takes off in an airplane while they aren’t together. Both of them don’t seem to know what to do with that piece of information, Jack switching the weight back and forth between his feet to help ease his nerves. Iddy with her bottom lip between her teeth, it was finally Zander who broke the awkwardness with his question from below them. “Daddy, why not come?” he asks, he doesn’t seem upset more than anything curious. Jack bends down and explains he has a few more games, and then he promises he will come and he’s even gonna bring Apollo and Luna with him. Zander gasps at the news, a look of excitement in his eyes at the fact the family dog and cat were gonna be there for Christmas. “When?” he asks.

“4 sleeps buddy.” As he pulls his son in for another hug, kissing the top of his head. Idris stomach twist, in a good way, she knew Jack was always good with kids. But seeing Jack being good with their kids, made something stir in her she hasn’t felt in a while. She takes a deep breath, pushing down whatever feelings were trying to crawl their way up. Jack puts his forehead against Zanders, like he always does before they are going to be separated. “Make sure you listen to Mama okay?”

“Okie daddy.” he stretches and moves away, his attention span has never been long even compared to other two-year olds. Zander holds onto Idris' hand as Jack stands and puts his hand on Zola’s head, leans down and gives her another kiss.

“Bye-bye Zozo.” he coos. He smiles when she babbles back at him mixed in with “da-da” Finally he steps back and looks at Idris, he wants to step into her space, to hug her, kiss her goodbye even if it’s just on the cheek. But he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so he stands back grasping the back of his neck, he can feel the slight sweat on his skin. “Uhh Iddy. Call me when you land okay." She steps forward and hugs him unprompted and he suddenly doesn’t have any breath in his lungs. He just closes his eyes and wraps an arm around her, the other reaching down to pet Zanders head. Jack could stand there all day despite having a game tonight, hell he could stand there forever if she’d let him. He breathed in finally, enjoying the scent of her shampoo, the smell of baby powder from Zola, he was holding his whole family for the first time in months and he will be damned if he ends it first.

Jack isn’t sure how long they stood there, time always escapes him when Iddy is in his arms. Finally she looks at him “you’ll be doin’ your pre-game napping when we land.” It takes Jack a second for his brain to catch up, of course leave it to Iddy to go right back to conversation like that wasn’t the first time he had her in his arms in months.

“Doesn’t matter.” he doesn’t leave room for debate, but he knows she will have something to say so he adds, “you and our kids are about to be on a plane without me, I will be lucky if I can even get my heart to stop pounding so fast, so I could sleep before I know you’re safe Idz.” He doesn’t look away, and neither does she, both trying to read what the other person is thinking. Neither of them giving the other even a slight clue, ‘when did I stop being able to read her every thought’ he thought to himself.

“Okay.” she nodded at him, putting the car seats on the shitty airport trolly an airline employee offered. Idris was busy, making sure Zander was holding onto the side of the cart and then she turned and left. Jack stood there to see if she would turn around and wave before she got onto the escalator she didn’t. But at least Jack could be happy that his son did, waving bye to his dad as he yelled something Jack couldn’t hear but knew it was some sort of goodbye.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday December 22nd:

Jack had practice this morning but he didn’t care, just went through the motions. He missed his kids, he missed Iddy, but missing them isn’t new, being away from them due to his hockey schedule isn’t new. He missed most of Zander's firsts - from being a newborn baby to about 8 months old - due to hockey. Jack knew the all too familiar feeling of missing his family, having fomo was his villain origin story at this point. The only thing that was new was the fact that he was home and they weren’t. It always fucked with him the most the nights where they were with Idris and not him. But at least for the most part they tried to switch off every other night. Jack knows that when he wakes up he’ll see his kids that morning or that afternoon picking them up from daycare. But this, them being home and him being in Jersey, it was torture, it felt like something was nawwing at his skin from the inside, and no matter what he did he couldn’t get the restless feeling out of his head or off his skin.

The only good news he had was that tomorrow night right after the game he was gone. Jack would leave directly from the rock to the lakehouse if he could tomorrow. But he has to pick up Apollo and Luna from his place first. The little fact that he will be with his kids and Idris under the same roof after tomorrow night is the only thing keeping him from not screaming from the endless restlessness he was feeling.

“You seem tense.” Nico observes and normally Jack would appreciate his captain and one of his best friends on the team checking on him. But right now he didn’t want to talk, he wanted to skip his shower and get dressed as quick as possible and go home. Jack wanted to pack the car so it was ready for tomorrow, he wanted to get gas so he didn’t have to stop tomorrow night, he wanted to FaceTime Idris and talk to her and his kids. Even though he knew she wasn’t going to talk to him, she would always answer though so he could talk to Zander and Zola.

“I’m fine.” He mumbles, Jack didn’t even try to hide the little bit of annoyance in his voice.

“Dude you don’t seem fine. Is everything okay at home?” Nico whispers the last part, he knows Jack doesn’t want people knowing about his life. Even though every single person on the team, coaches, medical staff and hell even the social media team knows Idris and him are living apart. But that doesn’t mean they know all the inner personal details of the day-to-day baby-mama drama. Even Nico doesn’t want their shit aired out for the gossip groups of the Rock.

“Not in the mood to talk.” Jack mumbles as he throws a pair of sweats on. Jack knows he’s going to regret not showering as soon as he’s home, but at least if he’s home he can take a real shower, maybe if he stands under the hot water long enough - the water hot enough to feel like it’s slightly burning - he’ll be able to think about anything else besides Idris hugging him in the airport and how good it felt to have her in his arms again every time he closes his eyes.

“Come on man. Keeping that shit in isn’t gonna help you.” Nico is poking, he wants Jack to talk, but Jack doesn’t wanna talk to him.

He’s still pissed at Nico for babysitting his kids with his brother so Idris could come yell at him about Christmas. Nico also last week took his kids out for hot chocolate when Idris couldn’t pick them up on time from daycare on time due to a meeting running late. Jack can’t be pissed at Idris for not calling him, not trusting him enough to help her out when he was perfectly available. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the butterflies she gave him in his stomach when he wrapped her arms around him. Or the fact that he has been a dick to her since they separated, he made Luke their mediator in everything revolving around Idris for the first two weeks, including pick-up and drop-offs. But he can be pissed at Nico and he will be. Even if Jack knows Nico would never make a move on Idris, he knows they are like siblings, he also knows Idris would never go after one of his teammates even if they are separated. But the idea of Idris choosing another man over him, Jack’s always been the jealous type, ‘territorial like a pitbull’ is what his high school girlfriend called it.

“I know you miss ‘em Jack, it’s normal you know. I miss my fam-”

Jack cuts him off, he turns his head to Nico’s cubby and in a second he’s in his face screaming at him. “You don’t know shit Nico. This isn’t me missing my mommy or sister. I miss my kids who are 1000 miles away from me right now! You can’t even keep a girl long enough to have a kid. So you latch onto mine? How could you possibly know what I’m feelin’!” he yells. Luke and Jesper are pulling him away from Nico, Jack doesn’t know what happened, one second he was fine the next he was attacking. Jack really doesn’t know what happened, sure he might have been mad at Nico, but to try to attack him? He has always had a slight anger problem but usually it was just when shit didn’t go his way on the ice. The last couple weeks though he’s been snapping at everyone.

“Bro chill.” he hears Luke in his ear, he tries to shove him off but Luke doesn’t let him, using his long arms to his advantage wrapping Jack in them as he pulls them to the other side of the locker room towards Luke’s bench. “You can be angry but you can’t take that shit out on anyone but yourself.” Luke mumbles softly, Jack knows if they were home he’d be louder, but Luke represents him too much as his older brother to air out his business out in the locker room. Or maybe it was Idris or the kids that made Luke stay quiet, whatever it was Jack was thanking the heavens as he felt himself calm down. Most of the people in the locker room had left to shower, or at least pretended to not listen and watch Jack’s breakdown in front of them.

Luke was holding him in his arms not letting him move until he forced his body to calm down. It must have taken longer than Jack thought to calm down because next time Jack looked up he noticed all the guys were gone, it was just Luke and himself in the room. He’s not sure where 10 men that are over 6 '0 ft tall and over 200 lbs went in 30 seconds but he’s grateful to be alone with his brother because he’s about to cry and at least Luke won’t think of him as pathetic as he felt for it. Luke lets go of his brother and Jack takes a step forward and then turns around so he’s facing Luke. Jack doesn’t wanna look up and see whatever emotion Luke is displaying on his face; disappointment, anger, sympathy. Although Jack doubts Luke feels any sympathy for Jack, he’s seen most of the shit go down between Idris and himself. Jack wouldn’t feel sympathy if he was in Luke’s shoes. Jack stares at his shoes, his dirty white sneakers he keeps here to wear before games. He must have slipped on the wrong pair of shoes when he was too in his head earlier. “It’s just eh” he tries to start, he clears his throat before he tries again. “This is the longest I’ve ever been away from my kids unless I was on a roadie.”

“I know.” he says, Luke’s tone is neutral, but his voice sounds annoyed. Jack knows his brother isn’t annoyed, he really has no emotion behind his words, and that’s how Jack knows he’s getting fed up with his shit.

“And Apollo all he does is cry at the door waiting for them to come home, and Luna won’t even glance my way like I’ve personally wounded her by taking her back to our place for a few days. It’s one thing to miss them, it’s another thing to have to watch how even our pets miss them.” Jack sniffles, he didn’t want to cry in front of Luke. He’s done a lot of that lately but he can’t help it, he misses them so much his chest physically hurts.

“You are going to see them tomorrow night Jacky.” Luke tried to reason as he took a step towards his brother.

“Yeah but by the time I get there, the kids will be asleep and probably Idris too. Plus I’ll have to crawl into a cold bed since Iddy’s stayin’ in the guest room.” he complains.

“Not to sound like a dick but who’s fault is it that you're even separated in the first place? And don’t say Iddy cause she’s the one who had the balls to leave cause maybe you don’t remember but I do live with you Jack. I know you're my big brother and I will always root for you, I will always look up to you in some way. But you can't seriously be mad at anyone else for where you’re standing.”

Jack didn’t have a response for his little brother, but he’s never felt like a shitter older brother. Big brothers were supposed to set examples, be a role model, they were supposed to give the “get your shit together” talk to their little brothers, not the other way around. Jack is tired of Luke calling him out lately, but he doesn’t say it, he just sighs and glances up finally. Jack thinks he might be even more tired of seeing that expression on Luke’s face. The one where he’s disappointed but also looks like someone who has no shock in their body, like it was expected for Jack to yell and try to fight Nico, as if it was expected for Luke to have pull him off, or even expected for Jack to try to reason his actions with shitty excuses he knew held no weight.

Jack just wants it to be tomorrow night so at least he can block everything out and just drive, drive until he finally feels at ease for the first time in days because he will be with his family, his kids, his Idz.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday, December 23 ~ 2 days till Christmas:

Idris was tired, she loved her kids, but not talking to another adult since Saturday morning when she left her sister’s was starting to weigh on her. Of course, she’s messaged Jack here and there when he’s asked for updates, texted her sister off and on. But an actual conversation, not since Saturday and she was starting to go a little stir crazy because of it.

“MAMA.” Zander screamed from the family room, thankfully because of the open floorplan she didn’t have to move from the stove to answer his calls.

“Yeah Z baby” she calls. “I’m in the kitchen bubs.” she calls out to him. Immediately she hears the pitter patter of his feet hitting the floor as he runs to her.

“When's daddy comin’?” he asks as he slams his entire body weight into her legs, immediately trying to climb up her legs while he waits for an answer.. Thankfully she is normal for him constantly running into her and climbing her or Jack, it’s like his body constantly has to be in movement. Ellen swears that Jack was the same way, - and although she always wished to have a ‘mini - Jack’ when she was pregnant with Zander, she wishes she was more specific with the universe, she meant looks and not his restless energy and sass - Idris hopes that he starts to calm as he gets older and not more energetic because she doesn't know how she will survive the ‘horrible threes’ if he is even more of a ball of energy.

“Honey I’m cooking lunch, do you want up?” she asks her son, glancing away from the grilled cheese she’s making for Zander and Zola to share. Zander continues to pull on the side of her hoodie, the bottoms of his feet pushing her calves trying to continue to climb her.

“Yeah.” he finally huffs, Iddy barely bends down as she scoops her son up and sits him on the counter next to the stove so he can watch as she cooks.

“It’s hot, Zander. No touching anything or you’ll have to get down." She gently reminds her son, but she’s not sure if he even knows that she is talking to him. Immediately jumping back into why he came to find his mom anyway.

“When's daddy comin?” Frowning his eyebrows as he has to repeat his question from earlier.

“Soon baby. Tomorrow. Daddy has one more game he has to play sweetheart.” Iddy says gently, not sure how he will respond, as she removes the pan from the hot burner and turns the stovetop off.

“I wanna watch,” he says, although ‘watch’ comes out more as ‘wash.’ Iddy can’t help but smile at how he pronounces some words, still learning how to perfect some of his sounds.

“Okay. It starts in about an hour I think. First lunch, then we can watch Daddy.” Idris starts to silently pray to the powers above that no one slams into Jack today, like they did the last time Idris let Zander watch one of his dads games a few weeks ago. She really doesn’t want Zander to get scared again like last time, he was so scared until he saw Jack and with him driving here tonight, she couldn’t imagine having an anxious Zander until the middle of the night.

“FaceTime Daddy and ukle ‘uky.” he asks, Idris grins Zander also hasn’t perfected his ‘L’ sound yet. Idris turns to the 2 kid plates behind her that have some fruit on them and cuts the grilled cheese into 4 pieces and gives Zander 2 pieces and Zola’s plate one to start.

“I’ll have to see if he’s available honey”, as she microwaves the leftover broccoli in the microwave from the night before she planned to add it to the kids lunch to make it a little more balanced.

Pulling out her phone, as she walks back over to Zander texting Jack to ask if he has time before the game for a FaceTime. Glancing at the clock she knows the players are probably getting dressed for warm-ups right now or even on the ice for warmups already. Iddy helps her son get down from the counter and helps him settle into a chair at the kitchen table with his food. She sits Zola’s plate in front of her, as she drags Zola and her high-chair closer to the table.

“Daddy first.” Zander demands, and Idris sighs as she is about to tell her son Jack hasn’t answered her yet but she’s saved by her phone ringing.

Idris answers the phone, setting it up so it’s promoted in front of Zander. The first thing Jack hears as it finally connects is “Zander you still have to eat while talking to daddy.” Jack grins as he sees his son on the screen, head turned slightly no doubt pouting at Iddy.

“I don’t wan’ broccoli.” he fusses.

“Zander.” Jack calls his attention, it’s the first time Zander or Idris address that he’s on the phone. Idris is suddenly glad she’s off camera because she’s pretty sure her breath catches at the sight of Jack. He is sitting in his cubby, the phone titled so all you can see is the collar of his jersey and head, his hair damp and messy probably from him running his hands through it too much, his jawline perfectly on display. “Are you listening to Mama?” he asks.

Zander looks like a deer caught in headlights, pouting slightly at the fact his dad is calling him out on his behavior. “Bb-but mama’s broccoli isn’t as good as yours.” he mumbles, arms crossed, looking down at his lap as he tells his dad why in his 2-year-old logic he is right. Iddy can’t help but roll her eyes because what her son really means is that she doesn’t smother it in butter and cheese.

“I’m sure Mama made you more than broccoli Z.” he reasons. But Zander doesn’t respond verbally, just shoves a piece of grilled cheese in his mouth.

“Daddy you comin’ soon?” he asks mouth full and all, shifting in his chair, suddenly on his knees so he can bend closer to the screen.

“Yeah I’ll be there tomorrow when you wake up.” Jack answers.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“You get a goal fa me.” Zander asks, Jack can hear Iddy chuckle close by in the background even if he can’t see her, and it makes his chest warm.

“I’ll try bubs.” he promises. Jack looks off the camera and bites his lip, probably contemplating how to say bye to his son so quick. “I gotta go Z.” he softly says.

“You always have to go.” Zander whines and his pout deepens.

Jack doesn’t know what to say, he’s glad Idris is close by and can take over. “Z, he can’t score you a goal if he doesn’t go warm-up. Coach will be mad, Daddy might get in trouble and not be able to play.” Idris tries explaining, and although it’s a little dramatic Jack wouldn’t probably get benched if he skipped warm-ups he would definitely get chewed out by more than one person.

“And how is he gonna score you a goal from the bench baby?” she asks their son.

After another minute or so, Zander says “okie. Bye daddy. Good ‘uck.” he smiles at his dad. ‘Gosh toddlers and their big emotions,’ Jack thought to himself, as he told Zander bye and that he loves him and how he will see him soon.

Iddy was able to finish feeding both kids and settle into the coach just in time to turn on the game. Zander is two so his attention span isn’t long enough to pay attention to a whole game. But when Jack gets the first goal 5 minutes into the game, Zander can’t help but scream jumping up and down, “Daddy scored! Daddy scored.” Idris shyly pulls out her phone to take a video of her son’s little celly in the family room, and sends it to Jack to see after the game.

It’s even more of a reaction when Jack gets a second goal, with an assist by Luke. Idris was never into hockey before she met Jack, but now her favorite part about watching hockey is watching her son react to it. They watched Jack get ‘star of the game’ and his interview after in the locker room. The one thing that stuck out to Idris about the interview was when he was asked about his celly. The reporter said he looked like he was trying to sign a ‘z’ in the air after both goals and wanted to know if he knew ASL.

Jack has the biggest smile on his face, as he lightly chuckles, “no, not well. My kid Zander probably knows more than me.” Everyone laughs at that. “His name starts with a ‘z’ and before the game he asked if i could score him a goal so uh… I guess it was my way of saying hi.” Jack is slightly blushing now, he doesn’t talk about his kids often, he doesn’t post them, but everytime he does mention them he has nothing but adoration in his eyes.

The reporter follows up with, “After the second you signed ‘z’ twice, why the difference, was it on purpose?”

“Wow you were really watching me eh?” he jokes. “Do I need to file a report for a stalker?.” After a pause he laughs and goes “ I’m messing with you.Yeah it was on purpose, my second born is named Zola, and we call her Zozo a lot. So I guess it was my way of saying hi to her. Although she is under 2, she probably didn’t make the connection, despite also knowing more ASL than I do.” Everyone laughs after that, and Iddy loses focus as she is consumed in her thoughts about what Jack just revealed,

Zander ends up FaceTiming with Jack one more time as Jack is sitting in the car in his apartment’s garage about to leave. Idris thinks it’s kind of cute watching how Zander can barely hold her phone as he marches around the house updating him on his thoughts of the Rangers game today.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bedtime was surprisingly easy at first, until Zander said he was scared to sleep in his big kid bed by himself. In a way, it can be understandable since they made the switch to a floor bed for him, she can’t remember if he ever actually has slept in it yet. Plus the one at both Jack’s and her place are the exact same, even the same frame, since originally one of them was brought for the lake house. But when they split they ended up using the frame for Idris’ apartment. Then, when she finally remembered they didn’t have one for the house in Michigan and she tried to go back and buy the same frame for a third time - because Zander has a very hard time with transition and change, she knew it was best if everything was the same - they were sold out.

Then if she takes into account how this weekend went, Friday night they co-slept at her sisters, Saturday was a bad sleep for both Zander and Zola so they spent the whole night with Iddy in bed. Finally last night, Iddy was too tired from the night before. She didn’t care where they slept as long as they slept so she could sleep.

She bends down so she’s on his level when she speaks to him. “Okay, I understand sleeping in a new place by yourself. It can be scary huh?” phrasing her statement as a question on purpose. Zander mumbles something as a sort of agreement, nodding his head as well. “Okay, well why don’t we lay down together for a little while?” she asks, with the plan of getting up and going to her own bed for the night once he’s asleep.

As soon, Zola realized her mama was staying in the room and giving snuggles to her brother, she demanded attention. Standing up in her crib, babbling away, Iddy knows it doesn’t mean anything but also knows if she had the words she would be cursing Iddy out. This leads to all three of them cuddling in Zander’s bed.

Jack arrived around 2 am, and he’s never been more grateful to be at his destination. Even with the medicine they got from the vet, Luna cried almost the entire twelve-hour car ride. Plus, anytime Apollo saw anything remotely interesting he barked, Jack didn’t know a dog could find so many interesting things. The worst part was that Jack couldn’t even drown them out with music, he tried but it only made them louder, around the eighth hour he gave up entirely.

Jack didn’t want to park in the garage since he knew the sound would probably wake the kids up, which would wake up Idris. The last thing he wanted was a pissed off Idris because he was being “lazy about walking a couple more steps.” Jack shakes off the memory of her saying that last year to him, and steps out of the car stretching after so many hours.

After letting Apollo use the bathroom, he grabs the cat carrier and the three of them start to make it inside. Jack kind of expected them to run off when they got inside, which they did. The part that kind of took him off guard after using the bathroom, and slowly making his way up the stairs to the kids room to check on them was to find Apollo and Luna already half sleep on the bed with all three of them; Zander, Zola, and Idris. Slowly he made his way out and stopped in the closet bedroom beside his own which happened to be Luke’s and grabbed the comforter. Quietly he made his way inside and laid the blanket on top of them, he was just about to leave when he heard his son, “daddy?” he calls out, and Jack silently curses that he woke up his kid.

Turning around and getting on his knees again he whispers, “yeah buddy?”

“Daddy home!” he says in his normal voice, which Jack hushes over.

“Gotta be quiet Z. Mama and sissy are sleeping.” he whispers. “Plus Apollo and Luna.” glancing down at the end of the bed where Apollo is curled up, Luna not far from him.

His son gasps in surprise, “ah, it’s like a sleepover.” Zander says, ‘sleepover’ it’s the word they use when they are trying to explain to their barely 2-year-old how cool it is to have a sleepover with ‘just mama’ or ‘just daddy.’ It definitely wasn’t the best explanation, and although Idris and Jack realize that in hindsight there isn’t much anyone can do.

“Yeah, a big sleepover.” Jack whispers, a slight sad grin on his face as he pets his son’s hair, dipping down to forehead to give him a kiss. “Goodnight. Love you.” Jack goes to get up, but Zander grabs his arm and stops him.

“Want daddy cuddles,” he whispers.

“Z, you have mama cuddles right now we can cuddle tomorrow.” he promises. As much as he would love to go to sleep with his family, he doesn’t want Iddy to wake up uncomfortable. A part of him knows that’s pushing the limit too far, too fast, and he doesn’t want her pulling away even more than she already has. Hell, they didn’t even sleep in the same bed the last six months they were together, Jack definitely knows it’s some kind of crossed boundary if he crawls into bed.

“Daddy. Sleepover too” Zander is doing that thing, what twitter calls “famous Hughes pout” Jack thinks. Jack really meant no, but he also knows if he says no again, Zander will probably stop whispering which will definitely wake Iddy and Zola up then Idris will definitely be mad at him.

“Okay.” he says, pulling the comforter up and laying next to his son, thankfully they got a full size bed but as Jack lays down he’s thinking they should have gotten a queen.

“One big sleepover.” Zander mumbles into his neck, content to be between both of his parents. Jack rationalizes his decision by telling himself that it’s the lesser of two evils. If he said ‘no’ Zander was going to wake up the entire house and Iddy would be pissed. But if he crawls into bed, Iddy might be upset that he crossed a boundary even if he was pressured into crossing it. Jack tells himself that either way Iddy will be upset, but dealing with an angry ‘got 8 hours of sleep Iddy is a lot easier to stomach, plus he gets to cuddle with his son, so basically it’s a no brainer to Jack.

“Yeah bud, one big sleepover.” he mumbles as he drifts off to sleep.

Tuesday December 24, 2024

Idris is the first one to wake up, she feels that Zola has moved she’s no longer laying down tucked into her side and immediately she’s up ‘mama bear’ fully activated. Thankfully she’s just at the end of the bed playing with Luna, and even if she wasn’t in the bed, the bed is on the ground so she wouldn’t get hurt if she climbed off of it. Realizing her daughter is safe, she takes a deep breath, her heart rate slowly coming back to a normal pace, until she turns her head and sees Jack and Zander curled up together.

Idris truly doesn’t know what she feels except anger at the fact that Jack just decided to crawl into bed with them last night. But, she also reminds herself that it’s Christmas and she doesn’t want to fight with him and ruin Christmas for her kids. Gently she removes the comforter that Jack must have brought in for them and climbs to the end of the bed where Zo is. “Good morning princess.” she coos, “why don’t we let the boys sleep and go make some breakfast? Are you hungry Zozo?”

All Zola does in response is giggle and clap her hands. Iddy decides that’s good enough and scoops her up as she stands, both Apollo and Luna following them out hoping to get an early breakfast. Idris goes downstairs, lets Apollo out, and makes a morning milk for Zola. Idris goes ahead and puts Zola in the playpen in the family room while she moves around the kitchen feeding both animals, and making her morning cup of coffee. She’s happy she’s at the lakehouse and can indulge on Quinn’s fancy espresso machine.

As she opens the fridge she hears baby feet stomping down the stairs and hears Zander walk slowly into the kitchen. He has his baby blanket in one hand, his hair an absolute mess as he nudges in Iddy’s leg who is still in front of the open fridge looking for what to make for breakfast.

Iddy’s hand goes to the mess of curls on top of his head. “Morning Z.” She greets him still not looking at him yet. Zander makes some kind of groaning sound as an answer, never been a morning person just like Jack he needs to ease into his day.

“I was gonna make breakfast, do you wanna stay in here or go lay down on the coach and watch cartoons with sissy?” she asks him softly, finally looking down at him.

Zander seems to really think about the offer before he says “cartoons. but first morn’ kisses .” The sleep is still evident in his voice. She scoops him up and carries him to the family room, turning on the TV and putting some random cartoon on. Gently she goes to put Zander down the coach, kissing his cheeks super fast to give him his “morning kisses.”

By the time she goes to the kitchen to make breakfast and feeds both kiddos Zander has decided he’s wide awake and ready to go wake up Jack. Glancing at the clock and seeing it’s barely quarter after 7. “Z, you can’t go wake up Daddy, he came in late last night, he needs to sleep.”

Before Zander can respond they hear rustling from upstairs, and Zander runs to the bottom of the stairs and even opens the baby gate before Idris can catch him. Thankfully he still likes to crawl up the stairs and he didn’t have to crawl far since Jack met him halfway.

Jack picks him up and lightly tosses him in the air, Zander squeals in happiness as Jack walks them into the kitchen.

“I didn’t make you breakfast, I didn’t think you would be awake yet.” Idris says standing at the kitchen island not even looking up from her phone. Idris knew she was being petty but she also couldn’t bring herself to care. Jack last night did what he always does ‘whatever he wants’ with no regard to how other people would feel about his actions.

He sets Zander down, who immediately runs off to the family room to play with Zola. Jack walks around the counter to meet Idris, facing her he says quietly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry about last night.” Jack gently raises his hand from resting on the counter, as if he’s debating if he wants to reach out and touch Idris' arm.

“We can talk about it later.”

Jack started to explain himself anyway “It was Zander he-“

Idris snaps quietly at him, “That’s real rich Jack, always blaming someone else, even your 2-year-old son. And I said we can talk about it later when the kids aren’t 20 feet away.”

No one else is set to arrive until around 5 tonight even Jack’s parents, as much as they love their son and adore their grandchildren and Idris. They all decided - more like Luke warned them about how bad it’s been with the bitterness and overall pettiness - it would be best if they came later because they know they are less likely to fight if they don’t have anyone to distract the kids, well they hoped.

Thankfully both of the kiddos were pretty much on the same nap schedule so they both went down around 10 am. Jack gulped his body suddenly tense as he exited the kids room with Idris. He really wished it was one of those days where he joined the kiddos for naptime just so he didn’t have to go downstairs and fight with Idris.

Idris grabbed the baby monitor on her way out of the room, slowly making her way down the hall and down the stairs. Jack followed behind like a child who knew he was about to get scolded or a dog with his tail between his legs looking down, nervous about what’s about to come next. He followed her all the way to the kitchen before she turned around and gave him a look as if to say ‘what the fuck Jack?’

“Idz, let me explain.” He speaks gently, raising his hands up as if he’s already surrounded by raising the white flag. Jack thinks if he goes on using her nickname, it will soften her, possibly maybe a little.

It does not go the way Jack was hoping for, “Don’t Hughes.” she grits out of her teeth. ‘Fuck she’s more pissed than I thought’ Jack thinks to himself. “Don’t call me that when I’m pissed at you, it isn’t going to help you.”

“I’m sorry I am. But Zander woke up when I came to check with the kids, and he asked for snuggles. I told him that you were already cuddling with him. But he was insistent, okay? And I hadn’t seen them in a few days plus I knew if I said no he would probably throw a tantrum and he would wake you and Zo up. Okay. So I decided it was the best option. I know you probably think I crossed some kind of line with where we are at. But I’m not sorry for giving into Zander, even if it made you pissed at me.” Jack explains as he watches her expression soften which Jack is grateful for.

“You did cross a boundary. I only accidentally fell asleep in Zanders bed with them. I was trying to get him to not co-sleep for the first time in days and I ended up falling asleep with them.” Iddy turns her head slightly, and stares off a little looking deep in thought. Jack really wants to step into her space, he wants to gently grab her chin and force her to look at him, he wants to force her to tell him what she’s thinking.Even though he knows it’s technically not his place anymore, he still wants to. But he doesn't, he just chews the inside of his mouth giving his mind something else to concentrate on. After a minute or so, she turns to him, “let’s unpack the car while the kids are asleep.”

They work in silence bringing everything in and hiding them in the basement closet they know the kids will never open. They even build the mini stick goal in complete silence, it would impress others watching two people work in that degree of harmony without speaking. Although, Jack thought to himself about how it was only like this because of everything that’s happened. For better or worse, they learned how to work in silence long before Idris left and it wasn’t because they were so comfortable with each other. It was because Jack was so angry that anytime he spoke to Idris they yelled, and Idris stopped trying to beg Jack to try, so they learned how to work together, raise two kids without even speaking for almost 10 months.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Once the kids wake up from their naps the pair seems to be able to find their voices again as if nothing happened during the kids naps. They spend the rest of the day playing with the kids, letting Zander run the show in how they spent the day. From playing mini sticks, to playing outside on the playset or jumping on the ground level trampoline.

Around 3 though Idris reminded Zander that they still needed to bake cookies to leave out for Santa tonight. Zander loves baking with his mom, so he was content with not playing outside anymore and instead drinking hot chocolate and baking cookies with his mom. Zola is a little young at 19 months to care about baking, so Jack and her play in the family room.

The house is filled with giggles from both kids, Christmas music playing lightly in the background, the Christmas lights glowing from the tree and the smell of sugar cookies baking in the oven. While the cookies were baking they decided to throw a Christmas movie on and of course because Zander is Jack’s son he picked ‘Home Alone’ to watch. Jack reminds himself to enjoy this, enjoy that they are snuggled all together on the couch watching his favorite Christmas movie with no tension. While Idris is hoping that the lightness in the air can stay until after tomorrow night but she has a feeling in the back of her mind that it probably won’t.

—--------------------------------------------------------

“Mama look.” Zander demands, as he displays one of his finished sugar cookie decorated with so many globs of icing and sprinkles, she already knows she’s going to make Jack eat that one tonight.

“Wow baby. It’s beautiful.” she smiles wide at him.

She sees in the corner of her eye chuckling as Zola sits well more stands in his lap. Zola didn’t seem to understand the concept of decorating the cookie, as she had icing all of her hands and face giggling, she was signing for ‘more.’

“No.” Idris says, signing ‘no’ as well, to which Zola starts aggressively signing ‘more.’ Jack can’t help but laugh as Idris signs inresponse ‘no. all done. All done.” Idris doesn’t even speak because she knows she doesn’t have to for Zola to understand what she’s saying. Zola tries to reach for the plate to grab another cookie but Zander beats her.

“Mama said all done Zola. These are for Santa” in the most serious voice a 2-year-old can have. Jack just laughs at the fact that not only did Zander also cut off his little sister, but how he did it, even as Zola turns to him, grabbing onto him fussing thinking he will give into her.

“Not this time Zozo. I know cookies taste good though.” she whispers as he rubs her back, and comforts her, even if he’s still laughing with Idris about Zander cutting her off.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

As everyone arrives the house becomes a loud, energetic place. Zander convinced both his uncles and Grandpa to play mini sticks with him, which Idris didn’t even realize they had that many mini sticks at the lakehouse. Of course, none of them are the mini sticks Zander asked Santa for Christmas. Ever since he learned that his dad was getting a custom mini stick from Bauer Hockey, he asked Santa for his own which would have been easy for Jack to ask for. But no, Zander didn’t like that it said J.Hughes on it, since his nickname wasn’t ‘J’ it was ‘Z.’ So he wanted it to say Z.Hughes. Thankfully, Jack was able to convince them to make two custom mini sticks, and even put them in the black mystery paper for him, if he put it on his instagram story Christmas Day.

While the boys were all busy playing mini sticks with the kids, Ellen and Idris were in the kitchen. As Idris pours both Ellen and herself a glass of wine, she hears Ellen ask her if she’s okay.

“What?” she asks in a daze, maybe she didn’t hear Ellen right.

“Are you okay honey? I know I’m Jack’s mom but, you can still talk to me you know. Although, I was never a single mom per say, Jim was gone so much when the boys were little sometimes it felt like I was. I know you have your mom who was a single mom you can go to for advice but I just wanted-.”

“Ellen.” Iddy cuts her off, gently setting both wine glasses down. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine really.” Ellen gives Idris a look as if she knows that Idris is full of it, but doesn’t push, just nods her head. Before either of them can speak they hear a high pitched cry and Apollo barking loudly from the family room and both of them take off.

Idris runs into the family room to see Zander holding his arm, fully crying in Jack’s arms. As soon as he sees Idris, he no longer wants Jack, only his mom, a true mama's boy. As Idris kneels down to her son, he slams into her body. “Shh. it’s alright. What happened, love?” she asks her son as he forces himself as close as humanly possible to her his high pitch screaming not lessening.

“What happened?” Ellen asks the men in the room in that voice you never want to hear from your mother no matter how old you are.

“He got hit with a puck.” Luke mumbles as he picks up Zola so she doesn’t get too close to the young parents while they try to calm down their son.

“A foam one right?” Ellen asks.

“No.” Jim answers.

“What?” Idris asks the adults around her, refusing to look at Jack.

“We couldn’t find any foam ones, so we thought we would use an outside hockey puck. I told them to be careful but Zander is so jumpy, I guess when Quinn shot the puck, he moved at the last minute and it hit him.” Jim explains.

“It was an accident.” Jack mumbles as Zander is finally just sniffling. “Hi lil’ man.” he whispers to his son, who has barely left the comfort of his mothers arms, ever so slightly tilting his head to see his dad.

“The good news is that it can’t be broken, Quinn didn’t shot it that hard.” Luke comments, and then immediately shut up when he was met with glares from everyone else in the room.

Quinn bends down to Zander, “hey buddy I’m so sorry.” Jack can tell that Quinn feels like shit for it, but he doesn’t care he hurt his son all he wants to do is punch Quinn in the face a couple times.

“Iz otay.” Zander whispers and Quinn sadly smiles back at his nephew. After Idris and Jack both looked over Zander’s arm without his long sleeve shirt on in the bathroom, they knew he was just gonna have a nasty bruise but that was about it.

The Hughes family has this tradition that Idris has just decided to roll with when it comes to Christmas Eve dinner. Idris grew up in a family where they had to dress up and all the aunties, uncles, and grandparents came over. The expectation for you to be on your best behavior in your best Sunday clothes which were also usually the mist itchy clothes. The Hughes were the complete opposite, every year they ordered pizza in and just bumped out on the coaches watching movies.

So that’s what they did, Zander didn’t leave Idris’ arms and neither did Zola. Both of the babies are perfectly content in their moms arms and no one else's. It was kind of a pain for Idris to help both of the kiddos eat when they were so physically attached to her. But anytime Jack tried to help by peeling one of them off, they whined and batted his hand away. Everyone could tell it hurt Jack’s feelings, his dad slapping his shoulder almost trying to comfort him.

Sometime during the movie, Zola fell asleep. It was somewhere in the middle of ‘The Elf’ where Buddy is decorating the apartment and eating maple syrup pasta for breakfast that Idris’ phone buzzes. Gently she grabs it out of her pocket and sees that it’s her boss calling her, immediately she gently removes the limbs of her Zander off of her getting up and handing a sleeping Zola to Ellen on her way out the family room.

“Hello.” she answers the phone, standing in the hallway that leads to the stairs going upstairs.

“Hey glad I caught you. Remember that client Samson that wanted that painting for his wife for Christmas?” he asks sounding rushed.

“You mean for her birthday?” Idris asks kindly trying not to come out and tell her boss he’s wrong.

“Yeah yeah same thing anyway, the artist finally agreed to the price today at 500k.”

“Wow, that's great, I know Samson will be happy.”

“Well that’s the problem,” after a pause her boss continues “that’s kind of why I’m calling.”

“What?” she doesn’t try to hide her anxiety.

“Well Samson has apparently decided that it’s not worth 500k and the artist barely agreed to that price so I need you to convince Samson it’s worth it.” he explains as if it’s just a regular Tuesday morning in the office.

“On Christmas Eve?” she asks.

“Yeah. It’s one phone call " Iddy come on.” sounding like it’s not a big deal at all.

“Okay.”

“Perfect. But he can’t do it tonight, it’s going to be the day after tomorrow around 2 pm. I’ll tell Sarah, my new secretary, to email them to you.”

Idris can’t help but joke, “what happened to Kennedy?” she chuckles, knowing it’s an on-going joke that the only woman who can stand working for him is her because he doesn’t hit on her.

“Didn’t work out. Anyway Merry Christmas. Send the kiddos my love. Jack too.”

“Haha, very funny William.” sounding as sarcastic as possible as she hangs up the phone.

Before she can even put her phone back in her hoodie’s pocket, she jumps up at the sound of Jack behind her. “Seriously Idris. You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Jesus Jack you scared me. What are you even talking about?” Idris doesn’t bother hiding the tiredness in her voice, it’s been a long day and it will be an even longer.

“You left watching a movie with your family on Christmas Eve to gossip with William.” his arms are crossed in that way where it’s not because he’s annoyed, his jaw slightly clenched.

“Zola is asleep. Zander was half asleep when I left. So yes I stepped out to take a phone call when it’s a movie I have seen no less than a 100 times.” Idris was matching Jack’s annoyed expression not in the mood for whatever she knows he’s about to imply.

“That’s not the point.” slightly raising his voice, it doesn’t go unnoticed to Idris that someone in the family room turns up the volume of the movie.

“Then what is Jack?” she asks.

“The fucking point is that it’s always him. It’s like he has this power over you even if your kids aren’t above it!” He’s now screaming and any chance Idris had of not also raising her voice is over.

“That’s not even close to the truth and you fucking know it! I’m not sure what the fuck you’re trying to imply Jack but it’s wrong!”

“So you don’t care more about your career than you do us!” he yells at her.

“No! I don’t. But the same argument could be made for you, Mr.hotshot hockey player!”

“You don’t seem to mind about my hockey player money.” he retorts back, he has that smirk on his face like when someone knows an insult they just spit out sticks.

“Oh my god! Were not even together and were having the same fucking fight! It’s insane!” she yells storming out of the hall to climb the stairs two at a time, but Jack is apparently not done.

“So that’s it?” he yells at her as they climb the stairs.

“Yeah that’s fucking it Jack! You know I’m done, you know I love my job just like you do. You know I love being a mom. But you also know I was hesitant to come here, but I love being a mom so bad I decided to spend my first Christmas single in years with my ex-boyfriend and his family so my kids can have both their parents for Christmas. So don’t tell me I put anything above those babies again asshole.” Idris turns to walk down the hall to the guest room she’s been staying in.

“Ex-fiance. Not boyfriend.” he can’t help but point out, it’s like a sickness, the way even when she hasn’t been his for almost 3 full months he still needs to stake his claim to her.

“God of course that’s what you got out of that.” she mumbles as she slams the door behind her.

Jack makes his way back downstairs, kind of surprised that Zola stayed asleep during that, she’s still snuggled up on his moms chest. Zander has since climbed into Quinn’s lap for cuddles, it doesn’t really surprise anyone he is becoming the favorite uncle whenever he’s around. “Don’t” he mumbles as he falls into the coach where Idris was sitting, Luke next to him.

“Oh bro. I wasn’t planning on it. That’s what mom and dad are for.” he whispers as a response.

“Daddy?” Zander asks from Quinn’s lap.

“Yeah Z.” he asks, trying to hide how angry he is from his son.

“Where's mama?”

“She has a headache bubs, so she went to bed early.”

“Oh” is all he responds with leaning back into his uncles chest.

“You always have been a shit liar.” Luke mumbles which earns a slap in the back of his head from Jack.

After a couple minutes, Jack can see that Zander and Quinn are whispering amongst themselves not really watching the ending of the movie. If Jack took an honest survey of the room no one was really watching the movie, as if everyone was on edge waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Zander slowly shimmies his way off of his uncle's lap and goes to make his exit. “Where are ya headed Z?” Jack asks.

“To give mama snuggles. Like she does to me when I feel sick.” he tells his dad before he’s off dragging the same baby blanket he left on the coach this morning back upstairs with him.

“Well I think we're headed to bed as well.” Jim announces.

“I can put Zola to bed Ma, hand her over” Jack offers but is waved off as she stands and they leave the room.

After a couple minutes of the brothers sitting in silence Quinn’s the one to break it. “I know you guys are separated, but it must be a new low for your son to comfort Idris when you're the one who made her upset.”

“Will you shut-up you hurt my kid tonight I outta kill you.” Jack grinds between his teeth.

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

Idris hears a knock on her door and decides to ignore it knowing it’s probably Ellen or one of Jack’s brothers coming to check on her. “I’m fine” she groans back, turning away from the door. She can hear it click open and says “Luke I’m really not in the mood.”

“Mama” she hears Zander say and suddenly she’s sitting fully up starring at her son at the side of the bed.

“Hi honey. Is your arm feeling better?” she asks.

“Yeah. Daddy said you your head hurts.” he mumbles softly as if not to speak too loud to hurt your imaginary headache anymore than it already would be and Idris heart melts at the gesture.

“Yeah, just a little. I’ll be okay.” reaching out to gently push the baby curls out of his eyes, suddenly thinking about the fact he needs a haircut.

“Want snuggles? Like when I’m hurt you give snuggles” he asks shyly looking up at his mom.

“Always from you baby. Come ‘ere” As she picks him up and climbs under the covers with him enjoying her son cuddling with her.

Jack went to check on the kids around 1 am when Idris and he agreed to meet downstairs to play Santa. When he peaked in he only saw Zola in her crib. ‘Z must still be with Idris.’ he thinks to himself. Idris doesn’t come down to help but who can blame her, he was kind of dick to her. So Jack carries up all the gifts by himself and puts them under the tree including the new goal and Zolas new walker toy. He eats all the cookies, even Zanders very very sugary ones and the carrots too, only leaving the stumps.

Finally as he lays down he hears Zola crying. Sometimes she still needs a diaper changed in the middle of the night. Slowly he gets up and walks across the hall to the nursery to see Zola standing in her crib crying. “Hey Zozo.” he greets her as he flicks the light on and walks across the room.

Zola did need a diaper changed, but once she did that she was still crying Jack wasn’t sure what was wrong and then signed for ‘mother.’ Idris was coming into the nursery anyway after hearing Zola not calming down. “Mama” she stretches, physically trying to get out of Jack’s arms and into hers.

It hurt Jack more than he cared to admit, Zola was always a ‘daddy’s girl’ literally from the moment she came out of Idris. There were so many times when she was young that only he could calm her down, she really only ever wanted Idris if she was hungry as a newborn.

“Hi honey.” she coos and immediately she stops crying. Idris walks over to her crib and grabs a pacifier. Zola glady takes it and leans her head on Idris’ shoulder. Jack stands off to the side feeling like chopped liver. As Idris tries to put her back in her crib she gets fussy again.

“Okay okay. I get it. It must be scary sleeping alone. I don’t think you’ve ever done that before huh? Zander is already in my bed, wanna sleep with mama and brother tonight?” she asks in a soft voice that one would only use for a baby or small animal.

Jack feels like shit still standing in the middle of the room, as Idris walks out the room carrying a very content Zola. All he can think about is how that’s the third time today his kids have picked Idris over him, and the second time tonight Zola specifically has. Jack never thought he would be jealous because his kids are giving more attention to Idris but he is, and that’s all he can think about as he attempts to fall asleep.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday December 25, 2024 - Christmas Day

Idris woke up to Zander shaking her awake, Idris has never seen him so excited in the morning, she grabs her phone and looks at the time 5:45 AM.

“Santa came! COME ON MA.” He screams physically trying to pull her up. A very big contrast to how be is every other day of the year, but Iddy finds it cute.

“Zander. Shhh. People are sleeping.” As she helps Zola out of bed, and lets her walk just holding her hand. Idris thinks it’s kind of amazing how kids wobble and then all of a sudden one day they can walk and talk like it’s nothing.

“Santa came Zo! Come on, move faster.” Zander starts pleading with his little sister to move faster.

Iddy can see how flustered Zander is becoming at how ‘slow’ Zola is walking down the hall,scared he might try to drag her down the stairs himself soon. So she suggests “Z honey why don’t you go wake up Daddy and we’ll meet you downstairs.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, sprinting down the hall screaming for Jack to wake up. Idris can hear a yelp from Jack from the stairs and can only imagine where Zander jumped him awake.

Idris makes it down the family room, at the exact moment she hears Zander running down the stairs. His yelling must have woken everyone up, because behind Jack are both his brothers and his parents and Apollo bringing up the rear.

Everyone lets the kids open their gifts all at once from Santa, it’s kind of heartwarming seeing how happy they both are. Apollo has decided to bring the wrapping paper to Jim who’s holding the trash bag.

“Apollo. Are the kids too messy for you?” Iddy jokes and all he does is use his nose to nudge her leg as he passes her with another ball of wrapping paper in his mouth.

Quinn laughing asks “did you guys teach him to do that?”

“No” Jack breathes out in between his own laughing fit.

Once the kids were done everyone opened their gifts from everyone all at once. Except for the gifts that Zander and Zola (Zander to be honest) picked out for everyone. Zander loved passing out his gifts - some might have been homemade - but Jack’s and Iddy’s were not. He stood in front of his dad practically blocking the view as he opened his gift. Now when Idris took Zander out shopping for his dad, she did not stir him in any sort of direction; she truly gave him free range to pick whatever ‘he’ wanted his dad to have. This is how Jack ended up opening a bag of pretzels and a pink beanie. In his defense, pretzels are Jack’s favorite snack (might also be his, so there might be a conflict of interest but Iddy didn’t say anything). The bright pink beanie was because “daddy only wears boring colors and pink is a fun color.” The beanie also has a tacky flamingo stitched on the front but Jack loves it anyway and puts it on right away.

Now when Jack took Zander out he did not go with the ‘free range method.’ Now Jack did let Zander wrap it, Idris is pretty sure he used at least 2 rolls of tape alone because she had to use scissors to cut out the box. When she opened the box she found a new pair of knee high leather boots to replace her old pair. Nothing was wrong with her old pair but when she had Zola her feet grew in size and never went back down. She loved her knee high boots and was really sad she had to donate them. Even over a year later she hadn’t really found the time to replace that exact pair of other boots she could wear instead. But to see the exact pair, down to the brand and even the little pattern stitched in the heel made her gasp.

“Do you like them mommy?” Zander asked unsure since she hadn’t spoken immediately.

“I love them, baby. Thank you.” she whispers and as she hugs Zander she makes eye-contact with Jack who's across the room sitting in a chair with that dumb pink beanie on. She mouths ‘thank you’ to him and he blushes, quickly looking away.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly to everyone, the day was turning out to be pretty good. After presents, Idris, Quinn and Ellen made a huge breakfast for everyone. Everybody sat around the dining room table (the kitchen table not comfortable to fit everyone plus the kiddos) and ate. The meal was great, it was like the tension from last night was gone. After breakfast everyone sort of migrated to the family room, lounging around doing nothing, some Christmas movie on in the background no one was really watching. Quinn even made a comment to Luke about how he’s gonna win the fight since it was already 4 pm without Jack and Idris getting into a fight. All Luke said was “I don’t know about that big brother.” as he walked away stealing the last cinnamon roll on Quinn’s plate he had just warmed up as a snack, going to chase after Zander with his new nerf gun.

Idris was in the kitchen, finishing cleaning the dishes she was feeling too lazy to clean right after breakfast. Idris was enjoying the quiet around the loudness that was the Hughes family Christmas. As she was washing the last pan that had the cinnamon rolls in them she heard someone come behind her but didn’t think anything of it until she heard Jack’s voice.

“Hey” he softly says.

“Hey yourself.” she answers awkwardly, not really sure what Jack was looking for, maybe he wanted to hear thank you the present Idris thought to herself. Putting the pan in the drying rack and wiping her hands with a dish towel she turns“Thank you by the way for the boots.”

Jack babbles out a quiet “yeah no problem.” his cheeks were just slightly more pink than they were when he came in. “Uh, can we talk?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck a nervous tic he’s never been able to grow out of.

“About?” she asks confused about what Jack could possibly be thinking about.

Somehow her answer must of satisfied Jack because he walks more into the kitchen standing directly in front of Idris leaning against the island, while she’s still in front of the sink. “Look about last night.”

“What is there to talk about?” Idris doesn’t mean to sound as defensive as she does. But how many times can you have the same fight with someone before there is nothing left to add to the conversation.

“Uh like about how you disappeared in the middle of the movie to talk to a precious boss who constantly calls you when he knows you are home spending time with the kids.” he might not have meant to scold her but that’s what it sounded like.

“Oh my god Jack. I can’t believe you are coming in here and instead of apologizing you are just bringing up again how mad that I took one phone call about work. You act as if someone from the devils called you, you wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Idris is nothing less than baffled at how Jack is acting right now. “That’s such bullshit and you know it.” Idris starts to walk around the kitchen as if she needed to give herself as much physical space from Jack as possible.

“It’s not.” he defends himself before he adds, “Did you answer just because it was him?” The way he says ‘him’ Idris immediately knows what’s really bothering him, it’s not that she got up during the movie or even that she took a work call. No, Jack was mad because he was jealous.

“Oh my god!” she sighs. “I can’t believe this. You’re mad at me because you're jealous.” she accuses Jack, but it comes out more as a statement - as if it was already confirmed as a fact - rather than an assumption.

“I am not.” he snaps at her, his voice starting to get ever so slightly higher, as he walks around the island to be on the same side as her again.

“You fucking are Jack! God I can’t believe this! We are literally again having the same fight and we are not even together anymore!” feeling so frustrated that she is starting to yell, running her hands through her hair as if it will ease some of the anger she is feeling inside.

“God I am not. I’m mad that you prioritize work over our family!”

“Bullshit. Fucking bullshit and you fucking know it!” she yells, not thinking about who else is in the house, or the fact that Zander and Zola are in the next room. “God that is so rich coming from you! How much of Zander's first 9 months of life did you miss? How much of me being pregant with Zola were you just.. gone Jack? Playing hockey?”

“I was providing for this family!” he yells, his blue eyes as dark as the deep sea filled with his anger.

“I never said that you weren’t! What I am saying is that you can’t say that you also don’t work a lot of hours and are away a lot from the kids! You can’t sit there and point a finger at me when three are p[ointing back Jack! I’m done having this conversation with you. Whether you're jealous. Not jealous. I don’t care we’re broken up so there is no reason for you to feel some type of way. Or for you to come in here and yell at me.” Idris turns to walk away and leave the kitchen but stops at Jack's words.

“Are you fucking him?” he asks. Idris is frozen and she is astonished at his accuration of her character.

“What?” she asks as she turns around, truly believing she heard him wrong because her Jack would never ask her such a thing or think that somehow she could be sleeping with her boss.

“You heard me.” he snapped, stepping closer to her. “Are you dropping your panties anywhere you can for him like you use to for me?” his words spitting venom.

“Fuck you.” Idris says she walks away just trying to get upstairs as far away from Jack as she possibly can because her watery eyes become full blown tears.

Jack follows her, apparently not done with fighting with her. Dispute the fact that it feels like his words somehow felt worse than a bullet to the chest. “What no answer Iddy?” he asks.

Idris was going to ignore him until she heard her son. “STOP.” he yells at Jack jumping in front of him kicking and punching him as hard as he could. “ALL YOU DO IS HURT MAMA. I HATE YOU.”

Idris can’t walk away from her son even if a tiny part of her loves him for it. She comes up behind him, picking him up from under his armpits and carrying him away somewhere. “Zander no. We do not hit people and we do not tell them you hate them.” Idris starts to talk carrying him up the stairs, still an angry ball of limbs yelling.

“I DO HATE HIM. I DO”

“We don’t use that word in this house.” they can hear Idris says before they hear a door shut upstairs.

Jack doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything he’s frozen in place. Jack doesn’t even know where Zander learned that word, and it breaks his heart. His own kid, the one thing he loves the most in this world hates him? Jack knew that he preferred Idris over him, which was fine. But to hate him, to want him to leave. Jack was gonna be sick, he felt this deep need to throw up.

“I-I I need some air.” he chokes out to his family standing around the hall and family room. Jack runs out of room to the back deck, he doesn’t stop moving until he’s leaning over the railing emptying his stomach of everything he ate in the last 12 hours.

“Here.” Quinn says to Luke, handing him a 100 dollar bill.

“Keep it. I don’t want it.” Luke mumbles climbing up the stairs, whether to go hide his room or check on Idris and Zander no one is sure.

“I’ll go check on him.” Quinn says it at the same time Jim says “Imma check on Jack.” But Ellen stops both of them, gently touching both of them on the shoulder.

“No, I got it. Why don’t you guys finish the movie?” She doesn’t give them any room for debate; they settle back into the coach.

Ellen slowly opens the sliding glass door now in her boots and winter coat, along with a blanket she must have grabbed on her way out. Jack turns around to the sound of the door, Ellen can see his red rimmed eyes from crying, his blue eyes the lightest of shades it always is when he cries. “I don’t wanna talk.” he mumbles turning back out to look at the lake, he can’t see much because it’s so dark out but he tries anyway.

“Okay, that’s fine. I'll tell you to listen.” she says in that tone only mothers can use on their sons, as she drapes the blanket over his shoulders. “He doesn’t hate you, you know that right Jacky?” she asks gently.

“Uff. Could have fooled me.” he mumbles.

“Jack, he's two. He doesn’t even know how to spell his name, he doesn’t understand what he’s saying.” she tries to gently let Jack see the truth.

“I don’t know Ma, he never wants me anymore. Even when he’s at home with me he’s asking for Idris. I knew he was a mama’s boy and I was okay with that but he hates me. All he seems to do is fight me on every little thing. Honestly I’ve been a shit father, I would probably hate me too if I was him."He still hasn’t looked at his mom, he’s just word vomiting as he leans against the railing of the deck and stares out to the land and the lake.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret. It’s a secret every parent figures out at some point and no one tells anyone about parenthood. A child is their meanest self with the person they love the most. He loves you Jack, adores you even. All he does is want to be like you. And you know what you are?” she asks, he turns to her giving her look. “You are the biggest mama’s boy there is. Where do you think he learned how to be one? Or the fact that he wants to play center ‘cause my daddy does.’ The boy loves you. He just is little. And yeah kids bounce back, but you have to remember that you and Iddy being apart is also a very big change for Zander. And that boy doesn't like change. Kind of like someone else I know.” She gives him a pointed look.

“Who me?” he jokes for the first time since she got out on the deck.

As they turn to head back inside she says “just think of it this way.. It’s like a right of passage for your kid saying they hate you. Well except usually it’s during the teenage years..” She jokes as Jack wraps his arm around her side giving her a hug.

“Can I just say one thing?”

“What?” Ellen asks.

“This is definitely the worst Christmas.” Jack admits.

“Yeah well Christmas joy is overrated. Why do you think we did more to celebrate Hanukkah while you were growing up?” Both of them laugh and head inside, Jack does feel better after he talks with his mom. Maybe it is true what they say, you are never too old for a mom talk and a hug.

#till forever falls apart #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x y/n #new jersey devils fanfic #dad!jack hughes #dad!jack

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dismightyman · 15 hours ago

Text

There was always a hesitance for Soap when it came to the more deeply personal aspects of Ghost. Even with how brazen he was when they started their partnership he wasn't stupid. As hot as it made him under the collar, that mask ghost wore was a bright neon sign that screamed Fuck Off.

More often than not he towed the line. Hell you could say he danced on it occasionally when the situation allowed, but when Ghost was well and truly shutting him out he knew when to let it go. It’s a source of great internal pride for him to be able to read Ghost well enough to push his buttons while avoiding pushing him to his breaking point.

As they got closer, there was a larger pool of tolerance for his specific flavor of boldness. The answers to semi-personal questions getting longer, less clipped. The dumb hypotheticals he’d toss out to fill the silence as they smoked were given more thought, instead of outright dismissals he used to get.

Then they fell in bed together for the first time and it was like a flood gate was opened.

The touches between them got more sure, more intentional. The tidbits that made up Ghost more readily found, and if he didn’t know any better, almost placed at his feet. Just begging to be picked up and stowed away in the little box in his chest that was solely for Ghost. To be seen, judged and found worthy of not just Ghost, but Simon himself was worth more to him than any medal or accolade could ever be.

It wasn’t just the getting to know Simon that truly made this something Soap cherished, but the fact that Simon seemed to enjoy getting to know him in return. The intentional work to learn what made him tick, what made Soap Johnny and vice versa. It solidified in his mind that this wasn’t just a fling, a rough romp in the barracks sheets every now and again. This in all its fucked up gory messy glory, was love.

Over the years he’s picked up on a few things that Simon does in his spare time. Not just for maintaining himself and his gear or staying sane, but for actual fun and pleasure. The biggest thing though was the models.

He told Soap once after a nightmare and a fucking freezing night smoking through an entire pack, that his favorite thing he ever got for Christmas one year was a little model train his mom had gotten him after his father had left the house.

“It was shite.” He said fondly. His eyes were settled somewhere on the horizon, far away and glassy.

“The wood was so brittle it snapped more often than it didn’t… and the paint, fucking don’t get me started on the paint…” the small barely there smile he wore as he described the way the cheap paint streaked on the toy made it into Soaps journal that very next day.

The next time he saw this side of Simon was the first time he’d stayed at his little flat in Manchester. They’d gotten leave together after an OP went slightly south leaving him with a concussion and Simon with a broken wrist. With a very pointed look from Price and a cheeky “Don’t have too much fun mate” from Gaz they were on a train headed north.

As they made their way up the stairs to his front door, Simon stopped.

“Before we go in there’s something I should probably mention…” Normally the eye black covered everything except his eyes. Since they were traveling as civilians Simon only had a black medical mask and a cap to cover himself. He apparently learned the hard way how nosey some people would be when he tried to walk the street in a skull balaclava. The blush that sat faintly high on his cheeks was a beautiful surprise and then some.

“Got a wee wife and bairn hidden away ere’ I don’ know about?” Soap said with a bit of a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

Johnny knew from the crinkles next to his eyes that he was smiling, Simon let out an overly dramatic sigh before speaking again.

“Piss off Mactavish, if anything you’re the wee wife…” he grumbled out, shifting slightly from one foot to the other before he continued.

“It’s just… I’ve never really… let anyone in here before and there’s…” he trails off looking anywhere but at Soap.

He grabs Simon’s good hand to get his eyes back on him.

“Unless ye got dead people hanging up to dry on yer ceiling, I doubt whatever yer dancing around is bad enough to turn me off of you” he starts with humor before taking a more serious tone.

“I’ve seen you open a man from navel to chin and grin while you do it… I’m more than gone on you Simon and nothin’ short of Hell freezin’ over is gonna change that” he says lowering his tone to a level that's just for them. “Honestly, probably not even that would do it” he finishes with a wink.

“Jesus Johnny…” Simon sighed in a surprised exhale, his blush deepening to a delightfully deep pink.

Without another word he turns, unlocks his flat and steps inside.

For the most part, in Jonny’s opinion anyway, it’s a fairly normal space for a single active duty man like Simon. There’s a kitchen to the left and a living room to the right with a hallway leading to what he can only assume is the bedroom. The furniture he can see looks old and mismatched, like he grabbed it all from a second hand shop. It's charming in its own way, nothing matches but it somehow all works. As he slips off his shoes by the door he’s mildly confused by the reaction out front, until he sees the wall on the other side of the living room, hidden by the little wall in the entryway.

As Simon stands sheepishly next to the display he gets a good look at frankly the largest collection of model trains he’s ever seen. From carpet to ceiling there are shelves loaded with tiny dioramas. However as he steps closer and gets a better look he realizes all of the trains are in some stage of destruction. Some torn in pieces, others on fire with tiny people inside panicking, there’s one, he realizes, that’s an almost spot on recreation of a blown out train they had tracked down and eventually killed an HVT in about a year ago.

After a long moment of soap simply absorbing everything, he turns to ghost standing stock still next to the wall. His eyes assessing, taking in every minor move or facial expression, waiting for some kind of negative reaction he’s sure.

Soap doesn’t let that stand for a minute longer.

“If I told you tha’ this is one of the hottest things I think I’ve ever seen would you believe me?” He’s probably laying it on a little thick but honestly it’s the truth. The level of detail, the time soap knows is required for something like this. The steady hand needed to get the tiniest lines painted straight. It’s a show of skill that he finds very very attractive.

“You’d have made a hell of a demo specialist if you hadn’t been so good with a blade, Jesus Simon how long this take you?” He breathes out, awe heavy in his voice. He steps closer to the wall taking in the finer details. On one shelf closer to eye level, there’s a train car mid crash held up by the thinnest of wire. It’s almost invisible if he hadn’t been looking so hard for it. The people inside are in varying states of being tossed around, upon closer inspection he can see little bloody hand prints on one of the windows.

“For all of it?” Simon asks stepping closer now that he’s determined soap isn’t taking the piss

“I don’t really keep time when I work on them… I’ve been making these since… well since I started wearing the mask” he’s slowly unwinding the tension out of his shoulders as he talks.

“Before I just did the regular trains you know, but after… everything it just didn't… feel right anymore, didn't give me the same release, didn't feel like me.” he paused every now and again seeming to look for the right words.

“Therapist suggested I change what I build to make it different like how I felt different.” he says with audible mirth

“Not sure this is what she meant but… it worked… so I just kept at it and…” he trails off with a gesture at the wall.

Soap takes a minute to let that sink in, remembering the bits and pieces Ghost has let slip. He's reminded of the conversation about his mother and it kinda clicks into place. This is Simon's way of connecting the two. The inherent violence of Ghost melding with the memory of who Simon used to be. After a moment Soap moves to wrap his arms around Simon. Gently taking his face in his hands to place a sweet little peck on his lips before pulling back.

“Thank you Simon, fer sharin’ this with me” he says so quietly it's damn near a whisper.

The real genuine smile Ghost grants him is one of the most beautiful things Soaps ever seen. The rest of that leave is spent with Ghost walking through every train disaster he’s ever modeled and them fucking in every room of the house so much so the neighbor comes over to complain about the noise. Twice.

After they get back Soap starts to pay more attention when he gets to hang out in Simon's room on base. He never clocked it before but after Ghost shows him his little model supply drawer, he notices that ghost is constantly collecting those little aluminum mint tins. The box Simon pulls out of the back of his closet is filled with the things. All of them contain little versions of natural disasters or in several notable exceptions, a terrorist attack or two. He explains to Soap that it's easier to keep them when they are moved from base to base when his whole collection fits in a 4x4 box. He finds out Price is Ghost’s main supplier of the tins, and the ensuing laps he runs in punishment are totally worth calling Price out for the old man he is. (Gaz had to join him in his laps after hearing this and laughing so hard he had to hold the wall for support)

Later on, when Simon brought him to that little cottage in the hills with several bottles of their respective poison, no one for miles, and a bomb made of legos and live class A explosives. An idea that had been percolating was solidified into action. It took a few favors from his sister and a frankly large hit to a few of his paychecks but he would be ready the next time they’d get to share leave.

Keeping his plan secret from Simon was harder than he thought it would be. Everytime he was lazing about in Simon's bed scribbling in his journal watching him so focused on his projects, he was so tempted to spill and tell him everything. But his opportunity came around sooner than he thought it would.

Price had announced after a successful round of back to back missions that the 141 had earned some R&R. Apparently there were enough happy parties in the upper brass that they felt the need to reward the taskforce for the good behavior. When the debrief was ending and everyone was piling out Soap leaned over to Ghost to offer his place up this time around. Ghost didn't need much persuading as two days later they were once again on the train north.

Soap only started to feel anxious as they were making their way up the foot path to the front door. In a comically similar way Soap stopped Simon before he put his keys in the lock.

“I have a little surprise for ye” he says with a nervous little grin.

“Do you have people hanging from your ceiling? Or is there a… how did you say it last time… A wee little family I don't know about Johnny?” Simon is smiling as he pokes fun at him from the last time they did this.

“You’d love that wouldn’ you, crazy bastard” Soap chuckles. “ No, nothing so devious, just a little something i've wanted to show ye for a while now”

Without waiting for Simon to respond he unlocks his door and pushes in, flicking on the lights. He makes his way into the front room knowing Simon is right on his six. When they are both fully in the room he steps to the side to let Simon see his surprise for the first time.

Placed right in front of the large window facing the street is a solid wooden work table. He’d looked for quite a while to find something that would match Ghost's height if he felt like standing and would be solid enough to last for years without wear and tear. Getting his sister to watch the house while it was delivered and get the thing put together was gonna cost him some serious sibling karma but it was well worth it.

Along the back of the table was a small shelf containing every single color of model paint he could get his hands on. He made sure to grab the brand he remembered Simon talking about loving to use but always passing on as he thought it was too expensive. He also made sure to get the brushes he noticed were used the most when he actually was around to watch Simon work.

Ghost was locked in place staring in disbelief at the station, Soap isn't sure he blinks for a solid minute and a half.

“Is this for me?” Ghost asks sounds ten years younger as he turns to look soap in the eye.

“Yeah Darlin’ course tha’s for you! If I drag you home with me I wan’ you to be able to do what makes you happy… I want this to feel like home for you too” it's said in a slight rush, like Soap is worried Simon might somehow misunderstand what this means to him.

Simon takes slow steps towards the table as he looks it over, running his hands on the smooth tops and feeling the sturdiness of it as he pushes on it slightly. He damn near picks up every bottle of paint to look at the colors before feeling the bristles on the brushes.

“Johnny” Simon says, it sounds a little croaky and Soap thinks hes fucked up majorly before Simon speaks again.

“I love you” he turns to face Soap, he’s not crying, there’s no tears, but he’s a little misty eyed.

“I love you so fucking much” he sets down the brush he was fiddling with as he takes quick steps to where johnny has been standing. The kiss he plants on Soap is deep and full of just about everything else Ghost didn’t say. When he finally lets him come up for air Soap chuckles.

“You like it?” Soap asks as he lightly scratches his fingers through the short hair at Simon nape.

“It's fuckin’ perfect Johnny” he says as he goes back in for another deep kiss. It's not until the next afternoon he actually gets to use any of it.

(this is for @leathfaic who inspired this mess, I wrote it all then read through it but that's about the max editing its gonna get so if you see a mistake fix it in your head and keep rolling. this is my first non OC fic writing so enjoy fellas, if i ever write again it'll be a miracle)

#ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #all this from me throwing legos to the ground at 4 am lads #sometimes we just stay winning

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bgwlsmahf25 · 19 hours ago

Text

If She Could, She Would

natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: none?

genre: fluff

a/n: tried to stick to canon for this one! hopefully I got it right, just after winter soldier and the beginnings of age of ultron :) let me know if you want part 2!

It was extremely early, far too early to be getting out of bed. Wearily, you stumbled around your room, pulling on your uniform and finding your boots as the alarm kept blaring. Somewhere in the world, the Avengers were wanted in assistance and you were being pulled from sleep to monitor them.

Once you arrived in the corridors outside the science laboratories, you realised how big the situation was. It was chaos, people charging everywhere. Maria stood calmly directing people, a clipboard under one arm and a tablet balanced in her hand. She made eye contact and waved you over. Her hair was in a slicked back bun, yet strands of it were already falling out, framing her face. “Agent y/l/n.”

“Maria. What can I do?” You took a tablet from a passing agent and began swiping through the briefs as they appeared on your screen. Some were already assigned to other SHIELD agents, but most were blank. You watched your colleagues fill in their names on various briefs, taking them as they were directed by Maria and other SHIELD executives.

“For now, traffic monitoring. This place has been chaotic since the helicarriers went down. Romanoff’s been speaking to the Senate, they’re not convinced but we have them where we want them at the moment - in our eyesight. Fury’s dead, Rogers and Wilson are in Europe currently but just informed me they might need to head to Africa on a lead, not sure what is going on there.” You waited patiently, knowing Maria was speaking aloud to sort her thoughts out. “Stand here or go somewhere else with Internet reach, I don’t care where, and continue sending these briefs out. Chase anyone who isn’t assigned to something and give them something to do.”

“What will you do?” you said, already typing.

“I need to find Romanoff. If you see her, send her to me.” You nodded, but Maria was already walking off, speaking to agents as she went.

***

“I left for five minutes,” a strong voice said behind you. You looked around to see Natasha surveying the agents rushing about and the general chaos. “What happened?”

“I…” Then you realised she was teasing. After all, she had been present when Rogers and Wilson departed. “I thought you’d left?”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” She nodded at an agent walking by and then looked at you with a firm, level gaze. “Besides, I need to talk to Maria before I disappear.”

“She went that way,” you pointed. “So the rumours are true.”

“What rumours would those be?” Natasha’s expression was unreadable, but you detected a flicker of sadness - no, wistfulness in her gaze.

“That you’re disappearing. Leaving SHIELD as it’s sinking.”

She didn’t reply, just kept on staring at you, and you realised she wasn’t going to answer. Natasha’s non-answers were answers in themselves. She rarely said more than she needed to, but you’d become accustomed to interpreting her body language. “Is that really how you see me?”

“No,” you replied, perhaps too quickly. “I see a woman who needs to step away from the spotlight.”

“Was I ever in it?” The question was more for her benefit rather than yours and you were left pondering your answer as Natasha walked off down the corridor, in search of Maria. You found yourself wondering about the redhead. Where would she go? What would be her mission now, or was she a free agent, able to choose her work as it suited her?

***

“...and I’m telling you, they’re valuable here. I need them where the action is, Natasha, surely you can appreciate the importance of that.”

“I could use their skills and knowledge in the field.” Natasha paused and sucked in a breath. “It would be helpful to have someone with decency towards SHIELD.”

“They have no heart towards SHIELD, they answer to me.”

“And what are you now, Maria? Nick’s gone, Steve and Sam are too, James Barnes is out there somewhere… HYDRA didn’t pack their bags once SHIELD collapsed. You know it and I know it. They’re the real enemy and right now, we’re at our weakest and they’re just gathering strength.”

“And how do you know that?” Maria sighed in frustration. “I don’t doubt your sources, Romanoff, you’ve got a good many of them out there. I just need to know that you’re not retreating forever. We might need your assistance very soon.”

“Then I’ll just have to be quick, won’t I?”

You stepped aside as Natasha left the room. She glanced at you, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and carried on walking down the corridor, head bowed and obviously deep in thought.

“Agent y/l/n, I know you’re there. Come on in.”

You took a deep breath and stepped into Maria’s office. Well, it used to be her office but as you glanced around, you realised that she was packing her things. “You’re leaving too?” The surprise in your tone was evident.

“Until we find somewhere better to be. I’m not leaving, y/n, I’m just leaving this room.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and typed something out on her tablet. You could see a string of messages coming in and realised that Maria had a life outside SHIELD too. “How much did you hear?”

“Nearly all of it,” you admitted. “Why does Romanoff need me?” You hesitated. “...It was me she talked about, wasn’t it?”

“And this is exactly why I need you here! You’re too damn useful, y/n.” Maria sighed. “SHIELD’s gone and it’s a free world, so I’ll give you the choice. Assist me in relocating and rebuilding SHIELD to a better standard and try not to get further mired down in the political devastation of this whole calamity. Or assist Romanoff with god knows what, though it’s likely to be dangerous and highly secretive, capering about over Europe and Africa and I think she mentioned something about Florida, though I can’t think why.”

“Dangerous and highly secretive sounds interesting and exciting but I’m more concerned with SHIELD rebuilding itself and going after HYDRA,” you admitted. “I’m an agent, but I wouldn’t consider myself a spy quite yet.”

“So you’ll stay?” Maria sounded surprised. “I thought you’d pick Natasha.”

“I’m not one to take sides, but I’m not someone who’ll abandon a sinking ship that easily.”

***

“You’re not who I thought you were.” Natasha eyed you shrewdly. “Staying to support Maria… are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“I - I need to be here. It feels right,” you said awkwardly. “Maria’s given me control of your incoming traffic though, for decryption.”

“Hmm.” Natasha watched the constant movement of agents and goods around you. She obviously wanted to say more, but instead closed her mouth and shook her head. “Well… I’ll be in touch.”

“I know,” you replied simply. “And if you ever feel like taking a break, I hear Times Square is very nice. I go there on weekends.” You weren’t sure why you were telling Natasha about your favourite spot in the city, but you didn’t regret it.

“Interesting.” She smiled briefly then nodded. “Alright. Time Square. I’ll… consider it.

***

Time passed quickly. SHIELD was rebuilding and HYDRA was coming down, but it was all taking far longer than you or Maria had realised it would. Maria was now concerned with the ever-increasing workload that the SHIELD directorship generated and repeatedly found herself in executive board meetings and exasperating talks with Tony Stark.

The Avengers facility, or the compound as it was more familiarly known, was still under development yet already recognised as the new birthplace of SHIELD. You were slowly training yourself in espionage, still recording and monitoring Natasha’s traffic from her various exotic locales, and always taking a weekend trip to Times Square. A part of you deep down wanted her to show up, to tell you that she needed a break, but you knew she wouldn’t stop until HYDRA was eliminated.

Natasha was working on another mission and any correspondence addressed to ‘My dear friend Andre’ was being immediately sent to Maria without you decrypting it first. You had strong suspicions that before his death, Fury had given further orders to Natasha, and she was carrying them out posthumously according to his instructions.

Bruce Banner the scientist was showing up more and more often now, often deep in conversation with Tony Stark, and also often in the science laboratories at the compound, running various chemical substances and long lines of code, neither of which made any sense to you. Tony was often found talking to Maria as well, broadcasting the value of the Avengers Initiative to anyone who’d listen and slowly increasing his hold in the corporate aspects of SHIELD.

***

Natasha, I wish you were here. Tony is an insufferable bore, constantly talking about his own ideas and plans for SHIELD, and Maria is reaching the end of her tether. I don’t know why I’m talking about him anyway. I miss you

You crossed it out and sighed, crumpling the piece of paper and shredding it into smaller and smaller pieces before depositing them into separate litter bins as you walked through Times Square.

Even at the early hour, the square was busy, filled with tourists chattering and watching the ever-changing displays. You watched a fashion advert about a model you vaguely recognised, your mind a million miles from New York. You were imagining Natasha, crouched in a dark alleyway somewhere in Europe, hot on the heels of a shadowy assassin…

“It’s smaller than I imagined.”

You jumped out of your skin and looked around frantically, only calming down when you spotted the object of your thoughts watching you with an amused expression. Natasha looked healthy but you could see the worry lines on her face and the tiredness in her eyes. Her red hair was short and wavy, tied back in a ponytail and she looked casual in a pair of suit trousers and a leather jacket. You could see the faded red Converse you’d given her several Christmases ago, peeking out from the flared edge of the trousers.

“Your letter was nice,” she continued. “Maybe don’t call Stark a bore, you clearly haven’t talked to him.”

“He called me ‘somewhat pretty,’” you groaned. “The man’s on my blacklist whether he wants to be or not.” You stared at Natasha. “Why are you here? I mean, why now? I’ve been coming for weeks.”

“I know.”

“You know?” You stared at Natasha, realisation flooding your mind. “So you have been here before?! And I got led on a wild goose chase. Gee, thanks,” you muttered bitterly, turning and walking away across the square.

“Y/n, wait.” You stopped but didn’t turn around. “Please don’t leave. I - I needed to see you.”

“Me?” Her words had got your attention, just as she predicted. “Why?”

“You know why.” The fact you knew and she didn’t have to say it sent shivers down your spine. “You never left my thoughts. I kept wondering.”

“You did?” You smiled. Natasha cared for you and you cared for her. Did anything more need to be said?

***

You’d parted easily, and the spy had informed you that she would be back soon, once she’d finished a meeting.

Meanwhile you headed home, immediately suspicious once you found your front door opened far too easily. Had HYDRA found you?

On the table was a book with a red cover and black lettering: As If You Were Beside Me.

Don’t destroy this, I can’t make another. N

You smiled, recognising Natasha’s handwriting and opened the book. “Oh Nat…” She’d made you an album, a rare gesture and sign of weakness from the redhead, filled with plane tickets, movie stubs and photos.

You sat cross legged on your kitchen floor, the book balanced across your lap, and examined each page carefully and for increasing periods of time.

Natasha had documented some of her travels, as if you were there beside her. There were many slightly blurry photos, her camera held at arm’s length, her smile forced in some (she’d taken some pretty bad injuries and beatings and it made you wince).

There were receipts from places she’d eaten, decorated with little smiley faces and other curious doodles.

Finally, at the back of the book, Nat had written a longer message:

You have to know that you mean something to me. If you are half the person I know you to be, then you’ll have already figured that out. I don’t do a lot of things but I would with you. N

You wiped tears from your eyes, a strange deep ache tugging at your heart. Oh how you wished she was beside you right now! But you knew she had to announce her return to Maria and Tony, and she’d join you as soon as she could.

#fanfiction #fanfic #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel fic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #fluff fic #age of ultron #winter soldier

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st4rrzynight · 3 days ago

Text

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭– 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

𝟏𝟎:𝟓𝟑 𝐏𝐌. i anxiously stared at the time on my phone. it has almost been an hour and paige still hasn't shown up. tonight is my birthday, she promised she'd show up after she washed up from tonights game.

i'm looking around as my friends converse around me in my apartment. my roommates have already questioned me on the absence of my girlfriend. i wish i knew why she wasn't here either.

i enter the passcode to my phone in a hurry as i pull up her contact and type out a message.

Paige 💜🫶

hey, where are you? everyone’s asking about you... are you on your way?

i'm so sorry, babe. i can’t make it.

what?

i know, i know. I feel awful about it, but something came up the team wanted me to come celebrate tonights win with them

its my birthday paige you promised you would be here. going out with the team is suddenly more important than your girlfriends birthday?

it's not just "going out". it's to celebrate tonights win, and it's kind of a big deal. if i don't show up, it could look bad. i don't want to let them down, you have to understand.

no paige, i don’t understand. I’m standing here, surrounded by my friends, and i have to keep making excuses as to why you’re not here. do you know how embarrassing that is? to not have my own girlfriend show up to celebrate my birthday??

i'm sorry, okay? i’ll make it up to you. i’ll take you out somewhere nice tomorrow just the two of us, yeah?

no paige it’s not about “making it up.” it’s about showing up when you say you will. but you NEVER do.

that’s not fair. you know how much pressure i’m under i just want to celebrate the win, look i'll make it up to you tomorrow i promise.

paige i am so tired of this. seriously, you keep making empty promises, you get my hopes up only for you to tell me a half assed excuse that you pulled straight out of your ass last minute.

please don’t do this right now. i’ll call you after i leave.

don’t bother, we're done.

what??

read 10:56

what do you mean were done??

read 10:58

y/n answer me please baby

read 10:59

please ill do anything ill make it up to you i promise please answer my message baby

⚠︎︎ not delivered

꥟

ᵖᵃⁱᵍᵉˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

two years. 730 days. i lost her two years ago today, i lost it all. i know it was my fault, i put everything above her and i deeply regret it. now i have to live life in regret watching from the sidelines as she celebrates her birthday once again. this time, with her girlfriend.

her laugh filling the air knowing i used to be the cause of that laughter. admiring her from across the bar, sitting in between my teammates as they make conversation yet i can't bring myself to take my eyes off of her.

i scan ever inch of her body my eyes stopped on her wrist, then her fingers, then her neck. every single piece of jewelry i got her, gone. none of it in sight as if it never existed.

a hand on her thigh from a woman who was a copy of me. blonde, blue eyes, tall, and she plays soccer. but its not me. it will never be me again.

i can't even blame her, thats why i hate it. i hate that i can't hate her no matter how hard i try because in the end i will always love her and it will always be her.

even if i'm not her happy ever after. i distract myself trying to find someone new but it never ends well. i always find similarities between the girls i've gone on dates with and her. thats what attracts me to them, the fact that they slightly even look like her. but they will never compare to her full look, no one will.

so for the rest of time ill find myself watching from the sidelines seeing her take on life with someone who isn't me by her side, someone who looks like me but is not entirely me.

it will always kill me, it's going to eat me alive till i die. knowing that i'm not hers anymore, i won't be looking for her in the student section knowing shes there. instead ill be looking for her in the student section in hopes she decided to show up, but i know she didn't. she's going to be in the student section of the soccer games watching and cheering on her.

i won't be able to buy her flowers anymore, instead i watch as she gets gifted flowers by another woman. except those aren't her favorite. they're the wrong flowers.

i wont be able to buy her the perfume she always wears when it runs out, her signature scent that i always loved. instead i watch as she gets gifted perfume by another woman. she sprays it into the air and by the time it reaches where i sit i know its not the one she loves. its the wrong perfume.

i won't be making late night sephora trips, picking out her favorite makeup products when shes running low. instead i watch as she gets gifted makeup by another woman. its the wrong brand.

because of my mistakes, ones that i regret so deeply, i now live with the gnawing feeling knowing that she now loves a woman who doesn't pay attention to small details and gifts her all the wrong things, on her birthday of all days, but she showed up. i didn't.

clearly i lacked attention to detail as well if i couldn't see how much i truly disappointed and hurt her and didn't even show up. i wish it went down differently.

every shooting star, every coin toss into a fountain, every time the clock hits 11:11, every fallen eyelash, every dandelion, my last two birthdays, my only wish was to have her back.

but i cant.

not anymore.

and it hurts.

i open up my phone clicking on her contact, i type out one last message, even if i know she won't ever get it. i type it out and send it as some type of closure.

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

⚠︎︎ not delivered

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 —

@uwupaige @jadasogay @sweetluna20

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loveafterdeath-if · 3 days ago

Note

Hello just someone who found your game a while back and loved it. Your work was really good at invoking the emotions from your audience, or at least it was effective at affecting me. Reading through it didn't feel like a chore and the prose flows smoothly. Also liked the Extras you made where it show enough of the RO to answer some question while leading enough mysteries to keep interest. Anyway just read through El's PoV and it was heartwarming, rage inducing, and despair provoking as I had imagined it would be. So good job on that part. So a question. How would the RO's react if they are in a relationship with MC and what happened to El happened to the MC? It could be the hypothetical timeline where MC and El never met, so MC became partners with the RO instead of El. It could be the scenario where they got together after El's death and that happened.

Hey there! I'm really glad you enjoy my works, especially knowing that I succeeded in conveying the emotions I aimed for!

L would be dead inside, drinking their sorrow and crying to MC night after night, hiding it behind jokes and charm around everyone. It's what they do best, right? Even when T tries to help, L would feel like a lost cause, assuring their kid they're alright with a smile that never reaches their eyes again—those gray eyes that hold no mischief anymore. Every person around them seems to leave, and they’d start to think it’s maybe their fault, as if they’re cursed to remain alone. They might even distance themself from T, scared that the same fate would befall their child.

Ekissa would shut themself off even more than before, becoming harsh and cold—even with family. They’d turn into one of those old grumpy people who prefer to be left alone. They wouldn’t feel like doing anything, just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, days, months. Their parents would force them to eat something, trying to help, but Ekissa would brush them off, snapping that they don’t need anyone to feel better. The thought of meeting new people would be repulsive; just the idea of it would make them want to hurl.

Athiel would continue their life, posing for magazines and overworking themself to the bone until there’s no room for pain. They’d do what they do best: hate everyone, hate themself, hate everything. Life would feel like a chore. Athiel would desperately try to bury the raw and merciless pain until all that remains is the façade of the arrogant model. But what nobody knows is that every single night, Athiel would sleep with MC's clothes to smell their scent, hoping that maybe it would help them dream of MC, to see them again, holding them.

T wouldn’t feel sad—not because their love wasn’t sincere, but because they don’t see death as something to be mourned. It’s all about perspective. Every little thing—like their favorite song playing on the radio, the small things missing in their house, every dream of MC—would feel like a sign that MC is waiting for them. T knows they will eventually reunite, and when they do, there will be so much to share. T would visit MC's grave every day after work, bringing flowers, cleaning the grave, and talking about their day with that small smile that makes their dimples appear.

#asks #thanks for the ask!#LAD-if #love after death #Athiel Winter #L Melth #T Melth #Ekissa Jones

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turtles-invoked · 2 days ago

Text

“How come you can’t fly?” Jack asks Castiel randomly one afternoon. Him, Jack, Dean, and Sam sit at the long table in the library, the brothers sharing a beer, Jack and Cas just happy to be in their company.

Well, maybe it wasn’t as random as it seemed. Jack was curious about The Apocalypse after Dean’s possession. They explained it all in as much detail as they could, Sam even offering as much as loosing his soul and how that affected him, and then how it affected Cas. Which lead to the Leviathan’s and then somehow they ended up talking about their time in Purgatory which naturally lead to Naomi’s control over Cas and then Metatron’s betrayal which leaves them where they’re up to now at the Great Fall… at least that’s what they’ve been calling it.

All eyes turn to Cas. The conversation comes to a halt at the somewhat intrusive question. An uncomfortable, bubbling feeling begins to roll and churn in his stomach as his face begins to heat up.

He opens his mouth to start explaining but Sam had begun to answer for him, “because he fell with the angels.” He says it as if it was obvious, but when he looks around and takes in Dean’s frown and Cas’ squinted eyes and slight head tilt to the left he starts to doubt himself, “…right?”

Cas completely forgot that Sam was particularly unwell at the time of the Great Fall. No one ever spoke about his lack of wings after he became human and they were a little busy when Cas finally got what little of his Grace was left. Of course Sam wouldn’t know. Dean doesn’t even know it all, so how would Sam?

“No… I uh…” Cas started and looked around at all the faces watching him; Sam’s confused frown, Jack’s intrigued yet a little wary squint, and Dean’s sympathetic eyes.

“When I gave Metatron my grace…” he starts slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat, “naturally, I lost all of my powers, including my wings…”

“But you got it back?” Jack asks, still confused.

“Not all of it. What was left after the spell wasn’t enough to heal my body immediately.”

“But you said over time it will regenerate,” Jack argues.

“Correct, and it has, but-”

“Then you should be able to fly,” he says hopefully.

Cas shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat. Jack was looking so hopeful at him that it almost felt worse to crush that than it did to admit what really happened.

“Theoretically, yes…” he starts and spares a glance at Dean. The brothers hadn’t said anything more since Cas begun his story and it unnerved him a little.

“Since I never technically fell with the rest of the angels, my Grace should have healed them… but there is more to it than that.”

“Wait a second-” Sam cuts in leaning forward in his seat, “you didn’t fall with the angels?”

“No, at the time I was already human.”

Sam looks at him as if he’s trying to piece together everything but nothing quite makes sense.

Jack interjects this time, frowning as he asks, “you gave Metatron your grace?”

“He was played,” Dean says simply, a tinge of frustration in his tone.

Cas sighs in agreement, “while Sam was attempting to close the gates of Hell, I thought I was sealing Heaven…”

“You were going to lock all the angels away? Including you?” Jack interjects again.

This time Cas’ eyes snap to Dean who was staring straight at him. His expression remained stoic and neutral but his eyes were a little bit wider, more attentive, desperate for the answer too. Of course he wasn’t going to leave Dean, but they had never had a chance to have that conversation.

“No,” Cas says sincerely, then turns his attention back to Jack, “No, I was- am unwelcome in Heaven. Though, I would have stayed on Earth regardless.”

“Jack, we’re getting off track,” Sam points out waving his hands to backtrack to the original plot.

“Right, yes. I was tracking Metatron when a couple of his followers found me. I was captured an-”

“Alone?” Jacks asks surprised.

“Yes.”

“As a human?”

“No. No we found Metatron previously and captured him, however, he knew where the rest of my grace was. I was… dying… and at the time Metatron was cuffed… we didn’t- I didn’t think he could escape. He was weak but he did, and I was trying to… find him when some of his very few remaining loyalties found me. I was still weak…” he trails off becoming nervous again.

“Wait- you had Metatron, but you let him go so you could get your grace back!?” Sam asks incredulously.

Dean slaps his arm to shut him up, but Cas can feel the frustrated anger in Sam’s stare.

“For what it’s worth, I did not agree. It was Hannah who insisted. I assumed wrongly that the cuffs could contain him,” Cas feels his face flush with frustration. He was starting to lose track of his story with all the interruptions and emotions beginning to swell in his chest.

“All of this could have been avoided!” Sam exclaims.

“Yeah, and Cas would be dead!” Dean interjects for the first time since Cas started talking.

“I would not have survived much longer without it, I am sorry to disappoint,” he replies curtly and returns his attention to Jack’s big pleading eyes.

“What happened when they found you?” Jack asks softly.

“He…” Cas swallows the lump in his throat before he continues, “… he bound and tortured me…” he looked at his intertwined hands, talking to the table. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, could feel the thumping in his ears as the blood rushed through his body, the embarrassment working its way through his veins.

“He cut into me with my own angel blade, but he soon realised I would not give up Sam and Dean very easily, so he…. Resorted to more… intense… measures…” Cas swallows again… his mouth beginning to dry, and his eyes burn ever so slightly. Visions of his shirt ripped opened and bloodied, flashed through his mind. He could feel the tight, pulling, bounding of his wrists as he was suspended from the ceiling, toes barely touching the ground; the stinging of each carve into his skin. He even remembers his relief when he thought they had given up, but the devastation as he realised what they had planned to do next.

“Cas, you don’t have to talk about it…” Dean says carefully.

Cas shakes his head to try and push the memories away, “I thought when they stopped they had given up. But how wrong was I…”

He shifts in his seat, leaning back so he’s not so hunched over, his hands now in his lap, still clenched together.

“They sliced down my back… extracted my wings and-” Cas inhaled shakily before blowing it out, the corners of his eyes beginning to prickle.

“We get it,” Dean says softly. Cas looks up and meets his eyes. Dean offers a sympathetic smile while Jack looks like he may pass out. His face has paled a little, mouth hung open in disbelief,’“I didn’t think that was possible…”

“It was… excruciating. Had Hannah not found me when she did…” Cas looks sheepishly to Dean, “I would not have lasted long at all…”

“It’s okay,” Dean says in that same gentle tone.

“Cas- I-” Sam was at a loss for words, “I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Cas replies a little too short.

“Have you tried to heal them?” Jack says quietly.

Cas gives him a flat smile, “yes. As well as Hannah and Gabriel. It appears they are damaged beyond repair…”

“May I try?”

All Cas can do is shake his head.

“Please let me try, Cas?”

At the same time as Dean says, “that’s enough,” Cas pushes his chair out and mumbles an, “excuse me,” not looking back at the table as he exits the room and heads for his own.

He can hear Jack and Dean arguing lightly with each other, but he pays it no more attention than he does the tears welling up in his eyes. When he approaches his room he shuts the door gently behind him and leans against it, sighing out deeply as the tears fall from his eyes freely.

He wipes them away and laughs to himself at his own humanity. ‘An angel crying,’ he thinks to himself. My, how far had he fallen indeed.

A knock at his door pulls him out of his self pity as well as a gentle soft call of his name, “Cas?” Cas could pick out Dean’s voice anywhere.

Cas wiped his face one more time before kicking off the door and opening it.

“You good?” Dean asks leaning against the frame.

Cas nods and tries to put on his best smile. But Dean raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest, looking straight through his facade.

Cas sighs and steps to the side to let him in, and shuts the door behind them.

He doesn’t have much in his room. His bed hasn’t been used in a couple of days, his few personal items are the books he’s snagged from the library to read while the boys sleep. Very bare compared to Dean’s.

Dean walks in and takes a seat at the edge of the bed facing Cas.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly, his hands folded between his legs.

Cas takes a seat next to Dean, hands clasped, and in his lap but he. Twiddles his thumbs, a nervous tick he developed as a human that he can’t get rid of of, “I-” but he doesn’t know what to say. Or where to start. Or how to explain it. Or if he even wants too. Because as soon as he starts to think about it again, the heaviness is back in his chest, and the warmth in his eyes returns, “-I can’t…”

He takes a moment to compose himself, to settle the heavy beating of his heart, and stares up at the ceiling. He takes a couple of breaths before looking over at Dean, his deep green eyes studying him, not judging, but observing, paying attention to every little move Cas makes. Cas looses his breath looking at him and how alluring his gaze is, so he focuses back on his hands and whispers, “I don’t believe this is something Jack can fix.”

“Why not let him try?”

“Would I be of more use to you if he succeeded?” Cas snaps before he could think and looks over to Dean again. The hurt in his eyes not gone unnoticed, but the pending answer in them tugged on his heart.

“It’s not about you being useful. It’s about you being you,” he replies in his defensive tone.

Cas sighs and looks back down to his hands. When he first lost his ability to fly it felt a lot like imprisonment. Human transportation is slow and tedious. Dean’s music and rambling did pass the time rather pleasantly, and he will admit that he does like his off key singing, enjoys it even, however it was no comparison to being able to “zap” places in a matter of milliseconds. The freedom to go anywhere in the universe at anytime whenever he wanted. Even after all these years, driving still makes him feel claustrophobic at times, something that will still probably take a while to get used to.

“Cas, you got to know you’re not here to be useful right?” Cas looks back up at him. The frown set in his brows mimicing the slight tinge of panic and worry in his voice.

Cas squints his eyes and frowns a little himself, “Of course I do,” and looks back down at his lap, “that was unfair of me to say, I apologise.”

“Good,” Dean says rather shortly.

“Besides,” Dean starts again, bumping their shoulders together, “I hated being zapped places anyways.”

Cas chuckles a little at his response, remembering Dean’s complaints of not being able to poop after they travelled together, or the uneasiness he felt in his stomach, or the one time his ear didn’t stop ringing for a whole day. Humans weren’t really designed for teleportation. But still, the weight of what he’s lost weighs heavily on his heart and mind. Always there in amongst the background noise. Deep down he knows he’s not kept around to be useful, but the guilt still lingers in the space between them whenever they have a long drive ahead, or rare ingredients to find for whatever spell they need.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“What for?”

“For telling Metatron where to find you and Sam…”

“But you didn’t…”

Cas turns to him then, “but I would have. I almost had. And for that, I am sorry.”

“Cas-”

“No Dean. I think about that moment all too often. The pain is something I will never forget, but I would have never forgiven myself had something happened to you because of my wrong doings… again.”

Dean didn’t try to protest again. Instead he places his hand over Cas’. It wasn’t until then he realises how tightly he had clenched them together. He allowed himself to relax a little, the warmth and slight clamminess of Dean’s touch grounding him.

“Can I see?” Deans voice, barely above a whisper, breaks through their silence.

“What?” Cas asks, more shocked that Dean would even want to see his broken wings than he is that he asked at all.

A blush fills Dean’s face faintly as he pulls his hand away but in spite of his obvious embarrassment he asks again, “can I see them?”

“I… it’s- they’re not… visually appealing…” he says, trying to swallow the dryness in his throat, “I don’t think you’ll be able to see them anyway…”

“So?” Dean asks, pleading green eyes begging Cas to fulfil his request.

Cas’s heart beat heavier and faster in his chest, his stomach turned a little making him feel slightly nauseated but he stood before he could talk himself out of it, because how could he deny Dean anything?

“Fine, but not here. I need more space…” and leads the way out of his room and down the hallway towards the garage.

“More space…?” He hears Dean mumble behind him.

Sam and Jack were no longer in the common areas, and for that he was thankful. Between Jack’s sympathetic need to help, and Sam’s guilt filled eyes, he’d rather not have to face either of them.

Cas opens the door to the garage and lets Dean in first. As he closes the door after him as Dean turns the lights on, but Cas immediately turns them back off, plunging the room into complete darkness, “dude?”

“No lights,” Cas says walking passed Dean towards the impala.

“Then how will you even se-”

Dean stops abruptly as Cas turns the headlights of the impala on, plunging the room into a soft yellow glow. He turns around to face him, still standing at the door.

Dean, after a moment of adjustment, makes his way over with a confused frown on his face, “oh, yeah, sure, we can’t use the free electricity, but yeah, let’s drain baby’s battery,” he mumbles under his breath, but Cas can hear it regardless of his volume.

“Humans cannot perceive an angels true form, as you already know, but you can see the shadows…” he starts, shrugging off his trench coat, folding it neatly and places it on the hood of the car.

“Shadows?” Dean asks, arms crossed while he watches Cas. He shrugs off his suit jacket and ignores the fluttering in his stomach as Dean’s eyes track his every move.

“Yes, Dean, you will only be able to see the shadows they create, not how they actually look,” he folds the jacket up neatly too and starts undoing his tie.

“Wait, Cas, hang on,” Dean says now standing in front of him, “are you-? I was asking about your scars…”

Cas freezes, stomach dropping, his fingers still on the knot of his tie, and looks into Dean’s eyes. A wave of embarrassment floods through him and warms his face and chest, definitely reddening.

“You were willing to show me your wings?” He asks incredulously, as if it’s the most sacred thing that Cas could do for him. And it kind of is. Exposing himself this willingly, and openly, is kind of intimate. He has never voluntarily showed anyone or any angel his wings without the intent of intimidating them. He imagines this is how humans would feel when they are perceived completely naked for the first time, excited but terrified all at once.

“I-” he tries to speak but his voice cracks, stopping him. How could he not have understood what Dean was asking of him? Does Dean even realise how profound it is for him to show him his wings? Would he even appreciate the weight of such an act?

“Cas,” he says breathlessly and my goodness does Cas love the way his name sounds that way, “Isn’t this… a big deal?”

Cas swallows the lump in his throat and continues undoing his tie, more so as something for his hands to do instead of standing still and awkward, “…yeah.” He says pulling the fabric from around his neck and rolls it up in his hands.

“You… are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to do this…” Dean says taking the tie out of his hands and leaning into his line of sight to catch his eyes.

Cas takes a breath and looks Dean up and down, “I trust you,” he says slowly and takes the folded tie back from Dean and places it with his other clothes, beginning to undo the buttons to his shirt.

He untucks the fabric from his pants to reach the last button and shrugs himself out of the sleeves, catching the way Dean averts his gaze when he notices Cas looking at him.

A slight flush fills Dean’s cheeks as he awkwardly runs his fingers through his hair and down to the back of his neck, “well… what do you need?”

Cas grabs him by the elbow and pulls Dean along to the front of the car, standing back to the hood between the headlights, “your patience.” Is all he says as he turns to walk towards the empty wall a few meters in front of the car, but Dean grabs a hold of his arm before he could walk away.

“Jesus, Cas,” is all he says and Cas can’t help but tense, knowing he’s looking at the pair of pink parallel scars that run down from just below his shoulder to half way down his back. From what Cas could see by looking in the bathroom mirror, they’re thick and viscous, and were nearly impossible to heal due to the angelicness of the wound.

Dean drops his grip on him and Cas takes it as his cue to continue on, so he does, ignoring the heat in his face and tingling where Dean held him.

He stands about a meter in front of the wall, just enough space for the shadows to appear higher than his body so Dean could actually see them, and kneels to the ground. He sits on his feet and place his hands on his thighs and hangs his head low, he doesn’t want to see the look on Dean’s face when he realises just how broken he really is.

So he closes his eyes and relaxes his upper body and summons his grace. He takes a moment to prepare himself before imagining his wings unfolding and extending wide, like a big stretch first thing in the morning.

His left wing opens easily, smoothly and wide. His right, however, cracks a little like the popping of the knuckles in his fingers, and pinches at the joint before expanding out. Cas only winces slightly as a shock of pain runs down the bone and into his shoulder blade as he stretches it out for the first time in months. A wave of instant relief washes over him as he lengthens them both wide and high and displays them for Dean.

A gasp in front of him has him squeezing his eyes shut and his stomach stirring. He knows they’re not pretty to look at. His right has no feathers left, just soft fur like skin covering the bone. It’s bent in the middle where the bone was forcefully snapped, and a couple of inches shorter at the end where Metatron’s followers had begun to amputate it. His left one, however, has a couple of feathers that have slowly begun to grow back along the tip of his wing, some long, some very short and some of them fluffy. Most of them fall out after a few weeks of growth, keeping their length short. Some have fallen out now as he’s opened them up, the floor to his left littered with white gold specs of a fur like substance, almost like dust, in the reflection of the lights.

The burning returns behind his eyelids and his heart stutters in his chest. Time feels like it moves far too slow as Cas kneels on the ground before Dean, as bare as an angel can be before a human. He keeps his head low and his eyes clenched until Dean whispers, “Castiel,” into the thickness of the air between them.

He can’t help but look up at Dean through his tear filled eyes at the echo of his full name on Dean’s lips. A name he hasn’t heard Dean call him since the angels fell. A name that, he’s been called for centuries, all of a sudden sounds foreign to his own ears.

But Dean’s eyes don’t meet his, they dart from his left to his right, taking in what little of his true from he can see. Wide, and curious, and beautiful green eyes sparkling in the refraction of light coming from Castiel’s grace.

He bows his head again and mutters low on his breath, “I did say they are not pleasing to observe.”

“No,” Dean says earnestly. Cas doesn’t lift his head when he hears Dean’s boots on the floor treading closer his way. Not even as Dean kneels on the floor in front of him. But two hands cup his cheeks ever so gently, as if he were made of glass, and slowly lifts his head up to meet his gaze. This close, Cas can see the blue of his own eyes shining back at him through Dean’s, bright and blue and…

“No, they’re beautiful,” Dean declares breathlessly.

Cas’s mouth opens slightly in astonishment as his eyes well up and his vision blurs softly.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean whispers as the tears fall silently from Cas’s eyes, down his cheeks, and into the palm of Dean Winchester’s hands, “thank you,” he adds and the admiration in Dean’s voice makes it harder for Cas to keep himself together, as a soft sob escapes his lips.

Dean wipes away his eyes with the pads of his thumb before pulling his hands away to rest on his own thighs and Cas looses his breath at the sight of the righteous man on his knees before him; open, and authentic, and nothing but the purest of intentions.

“Dean…” Cas starts but doesn’t know what to say, or how to express his gratitude.

Dean shakes his head, “no, Cas. You don’t have to say anything,” he says in a low hushed tone, his eyes flicking back up to the broken one.

“…Does it… hurt?” He asks timidly.

Cas nods slowly, “A little…”

Dean nods at that and squints at the shadow, brows deepening ever so slightly.

“What is it?” Cas asks tilting his head to the side, trying to get a better read on him.

“No-nothing. I- I can kinda see ‘em,” he stutters still squinting.

Cas squirms a little under the scrutiny, “how do you mean…?”

“There’s a…” he pauses, perhaps trying to find the right words, “A-a shimmer? I guess? Kinda like.. looking through water…” he says pinching his eyes as if focusing too hard put strain on them.

Cas couldn’t help but smile tenderly at the man before him. Very rare is it that a human can see an angels true form. Even a slight peak at such a being will burn the eyes right out of their socket, melting the surrounding tissue and vessels. He’s not sure whether it has to do with Dean being the chosen vessel himself, or their profound bond, but a part of him isn’t even surprised at all that Dean can see that much. He wonders if maybe he could perceive more…

“Try and touch them?” Cas suggests quietly.

Dean gapes at him, “what?”

Cas blushes and adverts his gaze down to his hands, “I don’t know if you can… but you may try.”

He chances a look back up to Dean’s face, staring mesmerised back at him, “You sure?”

Cas can only nod his encouragement. He watches Dean process his request, the way he licks his lips before gulping and taking a deep breath as he glances up at Cas’ unharmed wing. And then ever so slowly, almost like if he moved too fast he would scare Cas away, he reaches his hand up. Cas doesn’t think anything would happen, maybe a slight ripple in the current, or a slight rush of wind as he passes through the ‘shimmer’ but when Dean’s fingertips graze the surface of delicate skin, Cas gasps. Dean’s pulls his hand back suddenly and almost like an electric shock running through his body, Cas squints his eyes closed as the most intense wave of pleasure coursed a through him. He clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut, and steadies his breathing.

“Cas!” Dean calls out but to Cas it sounds distant and muffled. Dean calls for him again and Cas snaps his eyes open, Dean’s hand on his shoulder, the other on his knee. He hadn’t noticed he had put his hands on him, and now his face is mere inches from his, “hey, what the hell, man?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs shaky and a little panicked, “I didn’t think anything would happen,” he admits sheepishly.

“Are you okay?” Dean pulls himself back but his eyes don’t leave his face, worried for what might happen if he looks away.

“I’m fine. Are you alright?” Cas gives Dean a once over. He appears to be fine…

“Yeah, no, I’m good, I thought I hurt you…” he admits and Cas sighs in relief, glad no harm came to Dean.

“No, no it didn’t hurt…” he says, confused, remembering what he felt… “it was…” electric? Chilling? “…overwhelming…” he settles on.

Dean nods, still not entirely convinced.

“I would like for you to try again.”

“Oh- n-no, no way,” Dean says moving to stand, but Cas reaches out, his hand grabbing his thigh stopping him in his tracks, “Please,” but the sudden movement causes Cas’s wings to flow with the movement making him wince and grunt in pain, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, at the ache running down the right side of his body.

“Cas-”

“I’m okay. I just moved to quick,” he says slowly pulling back, Dean still watching his every move.

“Cas I- I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wont,” he says assuredly sitting back up straight.

Dean still looks unconvinced though, his brows frowned in a deep, worried, line, jaw clenched, eyes wide and watching, “stop me if I do.” It’s not a question, but a demand. He’s telling him to stop him, knowing that if he asks, Cas would probably let him go on even if it hurts. So Cas nods his agreement and braces himself, trying to keep his body relaxed, expecting the sensations this time to come.

He keeps his eyes opened this time as Dean’s hand reaches out, trembling ever so slightly, and pauses right before he makes contact. They lock eyes and Cas can see the anxiety, plain as day, in Dean’s. He gives him the smallest upturn of his lips, encouraging him as gently as he can to continue. He hears Dean suck in a breath before ever so slowly reaching forward again until his fingertips, in a feather like touch, graze Cas’s skin ever so lightly. A feeling, almost like a tickle, dances on the skin where his fingers sit before it bolts like a shiver down his spine, soft but intense, new, and unfamiliar.

Cas shudders at the feeling, as Dean applies more pressure, still soft, still gentle, and strokes up just a little. Cas can feel the feathers pull and turn under Dean’s fingertips and it sends an almost feverish feeling down his wing and into his chest. Cas can’t help but gasp at the same time Dean exhales a, “woah.” His eyes begin to prick in the corners, and his breathing picks up pace as his grace begins to quiver, a slight tremor forming throughout his body. He squeezes his eyes shut as to not blind Dean by the bright white light glowing from within them, as a faint running softly echoes throughout the garage.

Dean pulls his hand back nervously, “hey,” he says softly, “what’s happening?”

“Sorry,” Cas whispers, tensing, trying to regain control over his grace before his reaction accelerates further gaining the attention of the other occupants of the bunker. His fists clench hard against his thighs, the muscles in his arms so tense they feel like they’re burning. He tries to focus on breathing but his body feels heavy, almost like he’s being crushed. The air feels thick, as if he’s underwater, though he can feel his body shaking, struggling to contain him. He mutters a few words of Enochian low to himself repeatedly in an attempt ground himself, but it’s not until Dean’s hands, one on his right shoulder, another on his left thigh just above his knee squeeze him gently that he can feel his body calming down, relaxing once again.

“Sorry,” Cas whispers again, his face warm and wet. He wipes at his cheek and looks at his hand, expecting a crimson streak of blood, but it’s just water, tears. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying… again. He had never done such a thing in front of Dean, or ever really, and now he’s up to number three for the day alone.

“What just happened?” Dean asks pulling back and giving Cas back his space.

Cas wipes his face dry and folds his wings back away, cringing again as his broken one collapses weakly into itself and tucks away. His timing couldn’t be more perfect, as the door to the garage swings open, and in storms Sam with an Angel Blade gripped firmly in his hand and Jack standing ready behind him, “what the hell was that?” He demands walking further into the garage, looking around. Cas’ stomach sinks with anxiety, and nervous disappointed that he had created enough of a disturbance to concern Sam and Jack.

Dean stands up then, leaving Cas still kneeling on the ground. He takes the opportunity to lean into his shadow, blocking the headlights from his view.

“Um… what’re you guys doing?” Jack asks curiously taking in the sight of a half naked kneeling Cas in front of Dean.

“Nothing,” Dean says in his usual gruff macho tone that implied ‘none of your damn business’ as he steps to the side to block the boy’s view of Cas.

Sam raises his eyebrows at the sight of them, and what a sight that must be. It doesn’t help that Cas is flushed and a little out of breath either…

“Are we interrupting sex?” Jack asks amusedly, and honestly, Cas can’t even blame him for coming to the conclusion. That doesn’t stop him from leaning from behind Dean’s stance to frown at the kid, squinting his eyes slightly as if to say, ‘why would you even ask such a thing.’

Sam scoffs as Dean chokes and sputters for a response other than a defensive, “No.”

“Then what are you doing?” Sam asks chuckling amusedly, the same smirk still plastered on his face as he watches Dean squirm under his gaze.

Dean stammers for a response, clearly uncomfortable sharing with Sam what they were actually doing. Cas takes the opportunity to slowly stand from his position on the floor, brushing off the dust and dirt from his hands onto his pants. He waves his hands over his knees and within a matter of seconds, his pants are clean again.

“An exercise in trust,” Cas says walking to meet Dean at the hood of the car, reaching around behind him for his shirt.

“And the sounds just now?” Sam asks, body language becoming defensive.

“Me,” is all Cas offers up, shrugging his shirt back on and begins buttoning it. It’s mundane tasks such as this when he’d rather participate in the experience of doing it himself rather than using his powers.

Sam scoffs at his response, looking away from him, towards Jack, and shakes his head, “fine. Yeah. Okay. Good. Well just… we’ll leave you to it…”

Cas only feels slightly bad as Sam gestures for Jack to follow him, exiting the garage.

Jack looks between Cas and Dean, and smiles cheekily before waving them goodbye and following Sam out of the room.

Dean sighs in relief beside him and turns to face Cas, running a hand through his hair, “jeez, did you have to be so short with him?” He walks over to the door, leaving Cas still buttoning his top, and flicks the overhead lights on.

“Would you rather I have told him what we were doing?” Cas asks, tucking in his shirt to his pants when Dean rejoins him and turns the Impala’s lights off. He did not answer him, though Cas knew that he wouldn’t when he asked it.

Instead he deflects, “can’t you just mojo yourself back into those,” he asks handing Cas his tie.

“Thank you. I prefer the manual labour,” he wraps the tie around his neck, only a little confused on which way it’s supposed to face before the knot is tied, deciding that he doesn’t really care which way it faces, before tucking one side over the other and looping it through.

Dean huffs, and Cas knows he’s watching him mess up the knot. Suddenly aware of the eyes on him, he looses his focus and decides to undo it and mojo it on later.

“Dude, give it here,” he offers and gently swats Cas’ hands out of the way. Cas looks down at Dean’s hands, watching as he carefully measures the length of the fabric, pulling the thicker side down much further than Cas had it before crisscrossing them.

He lifts his head, looking up at Dean then, giving him a little more room at the collar to work with. This close, he could see everything so clearly, so perfectly. How long and fine his eyelashes are, how they perfectly dust the tops of his cheekbones as he focuses on the task at hand. He could see all the different shades of green that made up the iris of Dean’s beautiful eyes. All of the individual hairs that built the perfect stubble across Dean’s jaw. The slight dryness of Dean’s lips and all the fine lines and wrinkles in them. He could practically count all the freckles that glitter Dean’s face. Of course he’s familiar with every single one of them, but it’s still beautiful to be able to carefully examine them this closely. Beautiful. Dean had called him that earlier. And it had made his heart yearn for more, more of Dean, more of their connection, just… more.

Dean clears his throat then and a light flush of pink begins to spread across his cheeks and nose, as he taps Cas’ chest, signifying that he was done. Cas blinks out of his little daze and lookes down at the perfectly tied knot, “thank you.”

Dean smiles a little awkwardly and chuckles nervously taking a couple of steps back to lean against the side of his car.

Cas finishes dressing himself, shrugging on his jacket, followed by his coat and tucking his hands in his pockets and joins Dean, leaning against the frame next to him.

“So uh….” Dean starts, and chuckles nervously, cutting himself off.

Castiel remains silent next to him, allowing him the space to find the words on his own.

“How… what was it like?”

Cas glances at Dean beside him, face flushed, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other. He doesn’t look at him, just stares down at the floor in front of them.

Cas smiles to himself and looks ahead, admiring the vintage cars in front of them, “good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cas sighs. He could practically feel the relief rolling off of Dean.

“So the…” he trails off waving one of his hands in front of him. Cas frowns at his hand, not really sure what he’s asking him but patiently waits for him to continue.

“The shaking… and the ringing…?”

“Yes,” Cas says and nods, looking at the ground in front of him. He feels his face and chest warm as the feelings rush back through him momentarily.

“No one has ever touched them before. It was quite sensitive… overstimulating, if you will.”

“So not painful?”

“No, not at all. Just… overwhelming.”

“Good… that’s… that’s good.”

“It was.”

Silence falls between them, but neither of them move. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Dean looks around the garage, his eyes darting from one object to another, yet he makes no effort to move.

“Would you like some time alone?” He asks, not sure if he’s made Dean uncomfortable or not… He’s gotten pretty well at reading a situation but sometimes, in moments like these, he’s not sure what the appropriate social protocol is.

“No!” He says quickly followed by a nervous laugh, “ah… no. But I think I need to get out for a bit…” he admits pushing himself off the car.

“Come for a drive?” He says patting the roof of his car, leaving his arm resting along the frame, “she needs fuel, and we need snacks.”

Cas nods as Dean opens the door and folds himself in.

Cas takes a breath before pushing himself off and joining him in the vehicle as Dean turns the key and she rumbles to life.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and types away at it whilst the garage opens. Once she’s finished, his shoves his phone back in his pocket and explains, “let Sam know, just in case,” and they make their way through the tunnel, down a few side streets and onto the open road.

With the windows down, whatever tape in the deck turned down low, and the comfortable silence between them, Cas doesn’t feel so trapped. The wind in his face and through his hair feels rather nice, refreshing even, cool against his flushed skin.

Dean beside him looks much more relaxed too, although, he usually always did when they were on the road. His fingers tapping rhythmically against the steering wheel, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the door, half out the window. He looks at peace almost. And he drives like this the short distance to the fuel station.

Cas gets out of the car with Dean and leans against the side while Dean fills it, “I’m thinking jerky, popcorn, and pork rinds. What do you want?” Cas thinks about it for a moment… as a human he enjoyed the tastes of sweet foods, not the greesy stuff or salty stuff Dean liked. But now that he’s himself again, food doesn’t really taste the same… nor does it elicit the same emotional enjoyment… As a human he could ignore the individual molecules, but now it’s hard to get past it. However, their last movie night, the sweet popcorn Dean made him try was rather delicious.

“What was the popped corn we had when we watched the movie with the robots?”

Dean rolls his eyes at him and groans as he hangs the pup back up, “transformers, dude! And it was kettle korn, the caramel flavour I think. Is that what you want?”

“Please.”

They walk in together, Dean stuffing his arms with different flavoured jerkies and popcorn and chips. He makes Cas grab two soft drinks from the fridge and a no sugar flavoured water for Sam and at the counter he grabs a container of plum pie and a salad bowl.

Their items are handed back to them in one big bulging bag that thankfully doesn’t bust as they walk back to the car.

“Wait Cas, before we leave,” Dean stops him just before they part ways to get into the car.

Cas turns to him, curious, but a little worried seeing the frown on his face.

He digs through his pocket and dangles the keys between them, “I want you to drive.”

Cas’ mouth and stomach drops a little in surprise, his heart thumping away heavily in his chest. Dean barely lets Sam drive the impala, and now he’s handing him the keys.

“Dean,” Cas starts but he’s at a loss for words.

“Seriously. You shared something so… so big with me and I want to do the same for you,” his cheeks flush a soft shade of rosey pink at the admission and all Cas can do is stare at him gobsmacked.

“I mean… it’s not really the same thing… but this is all I have,” he says, beginning to backtrack, “and I trust you, too, Cas. I do. So please,” he jingles the keys and Cas reluctantly takes them.

“You don’t have to do this,” is all he says as Dean already walks to the passenger door.

Cas looks down at the silver keychain in his hand and looks back up at Dean who isn’t paying him any attention, or trying not to anyway. He nods to himself and takes his new place in the drivers seat, the weight of what this means to Dean not lost on him. Cas checks his mirrors, only having to adjust the rear view, and turns the key. The car rumbles to life once more, purring under Castiel’s hands. He grips the wheel tight and slowly rolls it out of the station, carful to angle it going down the drive so he doesn’t scrape it before slowly accelerating once on the road.

“You can loosen the death grip,” Dean chuckles from beside him.

Cas becomes aware of how tense he is and wipes his clammy hands, one by one, on his thighs. He adjust his grip and rolls his shoulder slightly, trying to loosen the anxiety in him.

“Sorry…”

“Why are you nervous?”

Cas glances over Dean’s way briefly, their eyes meeting for a slow second before he turns back to the road.

“I am not accustomed to driving and this is your prized possession,” he replies as if it answers all of Dean’s questions.

Dean chuckles softly again.

They pull at a red light and Cas is glad for the break. His hands had started to become sweaty and tight around the wheel again. He wipes them on his pants and returns them as the light flicks to green. As he takes off, a vehicle flies past in front of him, running the red. Cas gasps and slams on the breaks, Dean barely having enough time to brace himself against the dash as Cas narrowly stops in time before they are hit. Cas can’t move. There’s a vehicle behind him, honking, but Cas is struck still, his breathing heavy and hard in his lungs, body rigid.

“Cas, you gotta go buddy,” Dean says to him, but it’s muffled and distant. The car eventually drives around them, honking as they continue, but Cas still can’t move.

Dean gets out and walks around to his side, “shuffle over,” he says but Cas can’t move his hands from the wheel.

Dean reaches in front of him and puts it in park and nudges his shoulder, “move over,” he says again. He gently takes Cas’s hands off of the wheel which snaps Cas back into the moment. He clenches his fists a few times to loosen them up and slides into the passenger seat, his whole body hot and sweaty, uncomfortably so.

Dean drives them out of the intersection and pulls over after they’ve cleared it. He parks the car again and turns to Cas, one hand on his shoulder, the other still on the wheel, “we’re okay.”

Cas nods into his lap as the embarrassed tears well in his eyes.

“You’re okay,” he voices again.

Cas nods into his lap again as a hand gingerly cups his cheek, gently moving his head so he can look at him.

“You are okay.”

Cas takes in a deep breath then and blinks away the tears. He refuses to cry in front of Dean Winchester one more time today.

“You did everything right. I’m not mad. You saved us from a wreck. Okay?”

‘His first near miss,’ he thinks as he huffs out a breath.

“Okay?” Dean presses once more.

“Okay,” Cas whispers back.

“Do you want to keep driving?”

Cas immediately shakes his head, “no. No thank you.”

“That’s okay… but when you feel confident again, we can try again.”

“No thank you,” Cas says turning away to face the passenger window.

Dean squeezes Cas’s shoulder before he turns back in his own seat and pulls them back onto the road, “yes. I have rebuilt this thing from the ground up more times than I can count. That back there, not your fault. And even if that dick did hit us, yes I would be pissed, but not at you. And I would have fixed it, okay. There’s been nothing wrong with my baby that I haven’t been able to fix, okay. So yes, maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but I want to share this with you, okay.”

Cas looks over at Dean then. The sincerity in his voice tugging on his heart.

“Please don’t let this discourage you,” he adds as they share a brief moment of eye contact. All Cas can do is watch Dean. He can’t speak, at a loss for words once more, so he just watches him. Watches his relaxed form even after their near miss, one hand on the wheel, and the other reaches over, palm down in front of Cas. He looks down at it confused but opens both of his anyway, not really sure what Dean’s looking for. Cas looks back over to him as Dean looks over at their hands quickly and takes Cas’ left hand in his, intertwining their fingers and holding on firmly. Cas does the same and he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips, a new heaviness swells in his chest.

They drive the rest of the way home like this, Dean only using one hand to park the car back in the garage, and Cas couldn’t help but be amazed at how easily Dean could reverse park one handed. Dean squeezes Cas’s hand as he turns the car off, but he doesn’t let go just yet.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Cas nods, his heart still beating erratically at their intertwined hold, although the feeling is nothing compared to what Dean does next. He squeezes Cas’s hand once more and lifts his hand to his lips. Cas gasps softly as Dean closes his eyes and places a gentle kiss on the back of Cas’s hand.

Dean chuckles nervously as he releases Cas’s hand, “I bet Sam’s waiting on us,” he says low and hushed, neither of them making an effort to move, Cas not wanting their time alone to come to an end. He did forget that it was Sam’s turn to pick what movie they were watching tonight. He never did find his choices interesting, but it would be worth it to spend the evening next to Dean.

They share one last sweet smile before Dean sighs, “come on,” and they join the boys who were already sat in the Dean cave, just about to start the movie without them. Jack on a beanbag to the left of the TV, Sam in the arm chair next to him, leaving Dean to sit in the other arm chair, and Cas takes residence with a pillow to sit on in front of Dean and between his legs. Sometime through the movie, Cas leans his head back against the seat, Dean’s hands running through his hair. He shuts his eyes, and focuses on the sensations, his breathing becoming even, and all thoughts pushed to the back of his brain. And though he may not technically be asleep, it’s as close to it as an angel could get, blessed to be at the hands of Dean Winchester.

#this was much longer than I anticipated #I just couldn’t stop #no one stopped me #they want to kiss so bad #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #destiel #cas dean #dean x castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack #one shot

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

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So for new year cards...

Jack SSR is actually so cool; I like it. Malleus SSR is beautiful and all, but he really reminds me of a bride in forced marriage tropes. 😭

[Referencing the Twst JP Jan 2025 schedule!]

Finally, some good fucking food for Jack stans 😭 Port Fest feels like so long ago… fbjssbdjjs I feel like I can’t appreciate his design as much as others can. I’m not into the skintight undershirt on a character as buff as Jack is, and I'm confused as to why his gloves are... like that??? But!! I do like his fluffly little boa thing and how enthusiastic his pose is. You can tell he’s really putting his all into the New Year Sale~!

Malleus got another new hairstyle (any hairstyle that's different than his default one is a win in my book www)!! I think it's a well-liked look among his fans; I already saw so many people commenting that he looks like a love interest in a reborn as a villainess isekai or something to that effect.

I also saw some chatter around the thin fabric that Malleus seems to have over himself. A common joke is that it's a "wedding veil", but given the traditional Japanese clothes everyone is wearing for the new year, it's more likely also a Japanese article of clothing. A friend theorized that it's a 被衣 (kazuki/katsugi), a garment worn over the head that fully covers the body. These are mostly donned by noblewomen to cover their faces when they go out--and that sort of makes sense, given that Malleus himself is a noble. How demure and mindful... I thought the veil could also be a frost blanket (you know, to protect the budding flowers from the cold)?? But I'm not entirely sure right now; maybe the vignettes will give us more context!

A friend and I were speculating as to what flowers might be featured in the initial card art and the conclusion we came to was ume (plum) blossoms. The color and shape are similar, and they're a classic flower in winter anime. Something else I noticed was that the same flowers seem to appear in Sebek's New Year Attire from two years ago! If you compare Malleus and Sebek, you'll notice that the lighting is much warmer in Sebek's too. In fact, all previous SSR cards are pretty much like that, save for maybe Trey but at least Trey is shown to be in front of the shop. It really makes Malleus's card "stick out", since he's the only one that appears to be in a lonely and isolated location, just him and the plum blossoms.

On the subject of clothing worn by Japanese women! The same friend and I talked about Jamil's New Year Attire too. (Figured I'd throw this in here since I'm already talking about the other three 2025 New Year boys. Don't wanna leave him out, y'know??)

You can see that he has his hood up in the initial card artwork; my friend joked that Jamil's a newlywed. Why? Brides that choose to dress traditionally for their wedding days wear a wide white headdress/hood called a 角隠し (tsunokakushi), which covers an elaborate hairstyle like Jamils'/j. The "tsuno" (horns, as I'm sure you're all familiar with) in the name refers to the "horns of jealousy"; the tsunokakushi is meant to blanket the jealousy so she can enter her new married life at peace.

Of course, the shape, color, and context of the tsunokakushi is very different than what Jamil's got going on and the Twst team most likely did not intend for this comparison to be drawn, but I thought that this was interesting to share ^^ (*feeds Jamuil yumes this delulu cultural trivia*)

Aaaand let's close out with Floyd! The answer to his question is simple, actually. To put one's arm inside the kimono is just a very casual or relaxed way to pose. It suits Floyd and his attitude, doesn't it?

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #Malleus Draconia #Jamil Viper #Floyd Leech #Jack Howl #jp spoilers #notes from the writing raven #yes that friend I talked with is a Jamil yume and I dedicate that section of this post to them #question #Sebek Zigvolt #Trey Clover

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pauli-writes · 2 days ago

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ever since 2.7 the sunday short(s) you made live rent free in my head.... how would reader react to him joining the ae after all of that 😣😣

warning: idk what to write here, themes of trauma and healing?

pairing: sunday x reader

author‘s note: thank u anon for waking me up from my hiatus with this. i was so creatively drained, but this request gave me new life. im probably gonna do all of the event stuff in the new year, so you can still request on that if you want. also happy belated holidays to all of you!

part i ☆ part ii

“no.”

“but reader-“

“i said no. i don’t want him here.”

march 7th and the trailblazer were looking at you with wide eyes, while welt, himeko and dan heng were a little more understanding to your seemingly drastic reaction to the newcomer of the astral express, who at the moment was standing awkwardly a little further away from the group.

“maybe we should talk about this in private?” dan heng suggested, but you only brushed him off.

“there is nothing to talk about. you asked me a question and i gave you an answer, i’m sorry if it doesn’t satisfy you.” with that you left the parlour car, the door closing shut behind you with a heavy thud. there was a tense silence that followed as the remaining members of the astral express exchanged worried glances.

himeko was the first to speak. “they’ll come around. this is just a lot for them.”

“himeko is right,” welt added calmly, “they’ll talk when they’re ready.”

later that day you were ghosting around the party car, unable to fall asleep. you supposed a snack and something to drink would do the trick. the earlier encounter was still heavy in your mind, replaying over and over again like a broken cassette tape. you know you were being mean and unreasonable, but you were just too overwhelmed with emotion to think reasonably.

as you got your drink and snack from shush, you turned to walk back to your room only to find sunday, staring out the window. the sight stirred something in you, a strange feeling of nostalgia, melancholy and hurt all mixed into one. you wanted to walk away, return to your room and never speak of this again, but just in that split second he turned his head and the two of you locked eyes for a split second, before he turned back toward the window. a moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he spoke up.

“the view is beautiful…” his voice was subdued, almost sad as he spoke, a stark contrast to the assured way he talked previously.

“i suppose it is…” you replied awkwardly, “i haven’t payed attention in a while.”

another stretch of silence passed between the two of you. you pondered if you should just leave, avoid the awkwardness, but before you could walk away he spoke up again.

“i apologise for any distress i caused you with my request to join the express. that was never my intention.” he turned away from the window and looked at you properly. you could see his expression, it was different that before, he looked sadder, remorseful even. this was a different sunday, that much was clear to you now.

you sighed and avoided his gaze uncomfortably, “you never mean to, but you still do it…”

sunday’s face fell at your words as a slight realisation fell upon him, he let out a small humourless laugh. “of course, i owe you an apology for that too…” he said mostly to himself, before clearing his throat and properly addressing you. “i see now that my actions were selfish. keeping you inside, wasn’t for you, it was for me… i know this apology doesn’t make up for what did, but i hope it makes traveling with me… easier.”

you looked to the ground silently. your emotions were all over the place at the moment. his apology didn’t help. there was a time were you hated him, but as you distanced yourself from what happened and looked back, you knew that sunday wasn’t solely responsible for what happened, his environment, the people around him, shaped him into that person. so, couldn’t blame him entirely anymore.

you took a deep breath and looked up at him. “i don’t what to feel anymore… the astral express was the first place where I was free to do as i please, it’s my home… somehow it feels wrong having you here.” you paused for a moment, looking for the right words, “but my reaction earlier was harsh, i can see you’re making an attempt to redeem yourself and that’s… comforting. i just need time and space to… to process everything.”

sunday looked at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “of course, i understand. thing like that take time.”

for the first time that day you smiled, only a little, but a smile all the same. sunday couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile, but he was glad to see that again. “thank you… well, i’m off to bed then. good night.”

he straightened himself and nodded, returning the small smile. “good night, reader.”

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #hsr x y/n #hsr sunday #sunday x reader

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xxsycamore · 2 days ago

Text

╰┈➤ It’s Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you’re looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ ◄ PART 1 ] - [ ◄ PART 2 ] - ◉ PART 3

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Non-Human Genitalia; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Vaginal Fingering; Sirens; Water Sex; Bathtub Sex; Brainwashing; Smoking; Rough Sex; Desk Sex; Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation • wordcount: 3,261 • masterlist

a/n: I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

NEW: I made a playlist for this fic! It consists of 12 songs, one for each scenario. Enjoy <3

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞ (PART 3)

IX. A sly Kitsune

"How do you move your tail like that? It's very realistic... It's wagging so cutely too…"

The fox-like man seated at the other side of the table keeps gazing lazily at you, his chin resting on his palm, as he makes a show of wagging his heavy, fluffy tail for you.

"How are you so sure that it's not real?"

Yeah, right. You'd find his teasing cute if it weren't the tenth or so time he's been answering your question with a question tonight. Each one more deceitful than the previous until you're completely confused about which parts are true and which aren't. The conversation flows easily despite that, as you find yourself stimulated by his web of lies, if anything.

With a smirk blooming on your lips, you decide to answer his riddle without words. Standing up from your seat, you walk slowly until you're behind him, and with one swift motion, you pull on his tail.

The teal-eyed stranger hisses as if he can feel actual pain from the faux appendage. He's such a good liar, a play-along comes naturally to him, it seems. You're a little bit impressed.

It begins to seem strangely exaggerated for a mere act when he looks behind his shoulder and his face is beet red when you meet his gaze. Gone is the playful glint in his eyes, and for a second, you're genuinely worried that you went too far. So you wait for him to say something, anything.

"You've got some nerve, attacking the kitsune's most sensitive spot."

You burst into laughter, barely caring about getting eyes on you from the surrounding crowd. What's more, you're absolutely triumphing on getting this sort of reaction from him - he's almost a sorry sight at the end of his wits, throwing another poor lie at you like that.

"Oh? So what's gonna happen if I keep touching it?"

You wrap your fingers more around the fluffy appendage now, the fur so thick that you can't meet your thumb with the rest of your fingers. You give it a nice stroke, bottom to top, feeling its hard center curve and resist in your hold, as if there truly is a bony spine inside. You're not sure how he's pulling it off when you can see both his hands laid out on the table now, elbows settled on the hard surface with his head drooped in between in a display of utter powerlessness.

By the time you let go and place a hand on his shoulder in concern, the expression on his face has gone through another metamorphosis. There's something animalistic to his gaze now, and it matches the speed with which he drags you out of the room and into some secluded part of the castle.

You're suddenly shoved against a cold wall, the stranger's body firmly pressed against your back as he presses his hips against yours, making you feel the arousal tenting his pants at the front.

"So kind of you to check on me after playing with me so lewdly. Did you feel sorry for me back there? It seems like you've been deceived by the kitsune."

You let out a whimper as your lust for him grows. Screw him for messing with your head like that. But mindgames aside, you know you can get a good time out of this, and you don't practically mind the ongoing roleplay, quite the contrary.

It feels like an eternity has passed before he finally aligns his cock with your dripping hole. You moan as your walls squeeze around him tightly, but he gives you no chance to get used to the delicious stretch before he pulls out of you.

"Say it. Say that you want me to fuck you."

What a tease.

"I want you …to…fuck me…" Throwing your shame out the window, it doesn't take you long before you press your hips back into his, hoping that his swollen cock will find its way inside by chance.

You feel the brush of his fluffy tail around the small of your back, the sensation unfamiliar and not unlike being teased with a feather, and it does a great job at distracting you so he can bottom out inside you in a sharp thrust.

"Ahhh!♡"

"Now then. Let's say that I have a trick up my sleeve to keep you impaled on my cock looong after you get what you want from me. Am I lying, or am I telling the truth?"

Another wag of his tail. Your mind is getting clouded by the growing pleasure, and you realize that this is your only chance to answer before you reach your orgasm.

"Nhhg- I'm rather-sceptical! Haven't you thought that you might not be my type?!"

Bold words for someone who has a cock buried to the hilt inside them currently, you know, but you can't help it. The stranger lets out a chuckle, rutting his hips against you once, and twice, and by the third time, your orgasm hits you.

"Wrong."

Something expands at the base of his cock, and a shudder runs through you. Is that... a knot? An overwhelming sense of fullness rules over your nethers, heightening the pleasure, and only then do you realize you might have truly been deceived by a kitsune.

And leaving its grip might be a little harder than you thought.

X. A bewitching Siren

As soon as you step foot out of the hall, your ears detect a melodic singing voice that is nothing like the music played at the party. Is that coming from a singer invited to perform here? Maybe that's the sound of him doing his warmup. With no set direction in mind, your feet take you closer to the source of that music, without thinking.

Through long and elaborately decorated corridors, your step speeds up, as you're eager to meet the talented individual. If he's someone famous, perhaps you'll able to get his autograph, or at least exchange a couple of words and treasure the chance meeting as a memory…

Following the voice to what looks like a regular restroom, you assume that he came here for privacy. Your excuse would be that you wanted to freshen up, yes, that sounds good. Actually, wasn't that your goal in the first place? Your head is full of excuses to follow the voice, and you understand nothing of it, but your hand is already at the doorknob.

The man you find inside, to your utter surprise, is relaxing in a bathtub. He's in costume too, much like everyone else at the party, but his puts many others to shame.

"What a beautiful tail! It reflects the light so beautifully…Oh, I'm sorry for barging in! I was looking for a restroom, and…"

"Why, thank you! Finally some company, I was starting to get lonely here."

Flip-flap. The beautiful siren's tail you just complimented is even more gorgeous when moving, the holographic properties of its scales making a beautiful rainbow pattern under the bathroom light. You're not sure why he chose something so unpractical if he's prone to getting lonely, but you give him credit for the beautiful sight he makes.

"Do you want to keep me company? I can sing for you."

"Yes, please!"

You're unsure of where that eagarness of yours comes from - wanting to spend more time with his beautiful face, or his intoxicating singing voice. But you don't let the offer slide, you'd be a fool if you did.

"Why don’t you come closer?"

Once again, your feet take you near him before your mind can command them to. Taking a seat at the edge of the bathtub, you offer the stranger a somewhat awkward smile, and he gives you one in return. His eyes are like candy, looking at you so sweetly with their magenta color as if daring you to get even closer. But you don’t get a say in that. Because he takes matters into his own hands, pulling you in by the arm until you lose your balance and fall in the tub right on top of him.

Your yelp is masked by the noisy splash of water, but you can't move an inch. The beautiful tail you admired just a while ago now turns into an immobilization tool, wrapping around your legs and pressing them tightly together. Similarly, he wraps his naked arms around your torso, fully capturing you in his grasp. He also appears to be… laughing.

"What are you squirming so much for? I thought we were going to have fun?"

"I'm just- surprised- Ahh!!"

Flipping the two of you around, you find your head dangerously close to being pushed underwater.

"Isn't it exciting to be held like that? Don't worry so much, I'm not gonna drown you! I need a pretty woman like you by my side if I want my singing performance to truly capture the romantic sound I'm trying to give it! And if we were to make love during it, that's making it even more powerful, don't you think?"

His sense of humor is strange, but you can't deny the way adrenaline heightens your need, as much as you hate the part of your brain that does that to you. He begins touching you all over with his gentle hands while humming a tune, and between desperate moans, you have another chance to admire his costume, the scales on his arms a beautiful finishing touch.

When he finally enters you, your world is spinning, and the sound of water continuously spilling over the edge of the tub sounds so distant. The man's moans are like a melody, the way he drags them out, you feel brainwashed by them almost. You'll do anything to prevent him from putting an end to that song, until you can't move a limb anymore. You just have to be careful not to completely drown in him.

XI. A cunning Devil

Wandering off on your own turns out to be rewarding as you truly manage to find another balcony that's not as crowded as the hall's main one. The crisp midnight is heavenly when you take a lungful, instantly putting you at ease. It makes you that much startled when you suddenly register someone's presence beside you. Cigarette smoke rudely enters through your nose just as you've been getting to enjoy your air filtered out from heavy perfumes. The man doesn't pay you much attention upon setting his elbows on the railing, and you can't decide if you're relieved or offended by it. The latter somewhat prevails, and you decide to break the ice after all.

"Too noisy inside, huh? It's good that we found a place to escape, haha…"

You're just a tad awkward with him, and he isn't helping much with the uninterested half-gaze he casts in your direction as he lets out a huff of smoke.

"Did ya come here hoping that I'd fool around with you?"

W-What on Earth…! Just what left him with the impression that you're-

"Take yer decision quickly. I'm almost done here."

What is he acting so full of himself for? It pisses you off, and that's no good, because you know yourself too well when being provoked.

"Fine. Let's 'fool around'. I bet you're not even that good."

The stranger takes another drag of his cigarette.

"And what do I get in return?"

The audacity!

"Excuse me? You get my body, maybe? We're BOTH in this, aren't we?"

For the first time, he turns to fully face you. You see a pair of short, pointy red horns on top of his head, and his tired eyes have a strange glint in them, making him look dangerous somehow.

"Can you repeat that for me?"

"What? I'm giving you my body."

His violet eyes flash red for a second, you swear you see them. It must be the light playing tricks on you. Not that it matters now. Not when the whole demeanor of the stranger changes in the next second, with you being whisked away in his arms and pinned against the nearby wall.

"I'm gonna treat ya to some good time, after all."

"Finally." You roll your eyes, getting used to the new arrangement as the man captures your wrists and pins them above your head. You try to initiate a kiss despite your partial immobilization, but you easily miss his lips when he lowers his head to nibble at your neck instead. The bickering must have rilled you up, because you're moaning already, despite yourself. The last thing you want is to give him the time of day and become a whimpering, moaning mess under his touch. You'll hold back as much as you can, just because. But he's making it way harder than anticipated.

Between your legs, his hand finds your dripping core easily but he's gone the second it starts feeling good. You curse him in your head, but your temper is quickly softened by the way he hoists up one of your legs on his arms and enters you. His cock feels divine, you hate to admit, as he loses no time starting to thrust away in your welcoming heat. Maybe a quick, rough fuck is exactly what you wanted. You open your eyes just so you can look at him through a layer of lustful haze. Is he enjoying this as much as you are?

The smirk on his face catches you off guard, and coupled with a rougher thrust, it becomes the reason why you reach an explosive climax so soon. He follows not long after, pulling out at the last moment and painting your abdomen with his cum.

On wobbly legs, you readjust your clothes to retrieve some decency before you return to the real world. But a hand captures your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Tsk, where do ya think yer going? Did ya forget already? Your body is mine now."

A thin red tail with a pointed tip wraps around your leg, further preventing you from making your escape. You hear your own heart pound in your chest, and you realize that you might have just made a deal with the Devil.

XII. A beguiling Death

"Awww, I hate this part so much! Seeing the hall get emptier and emptier as the small hours roll in…" You giggle a little at Victor's woes. The social butterfly he is, it only makes sense that he feels that way, on top of him being the party's host. You've chosen his company for a large chunk of the evening, yet you still feel as if you barely spent time with him. He's been excusing himself times and times again, talking with guests, managing the event, making sure that everyone's having fun. All of which, of course, includes you, and you're thankful for that, making sure to remind him what a good time you're having every chance you get. "But Victor, isn't it nice? You'll get to relax at long last! You must be tired." Victor looks at you, a mysterious little smile on his face. For someone who smiles so often, you pride yourself in recognizing the different meanings behind the curling of his lips, but that one in particular worries you. "Are you sure you're not having malicious intent when you're saying that? Something like wanting me all for yourself when the guests leave? Ahahaha!" The laughter doesn't make it any less obscene, what he's suggesting. You feign shock as you gaze away from him. "I never said that!" "Naughty girl, what did you think? I meant it with utmost innocence! We could help ourselves to some sinfully sweet leftovers once anyone leaves, for starters!" Oh! Okay, he caught you there. You both laugh, holding each other's gaze. His idea doesn't sound all too bad. You tell him you'll be waiting in his office, with a wink. He nods and stands to his feet, preparing to see the last of the guests out.

*** "Victor, you're still wearing your costume!" You don't have to wait long for him. Your arms are open and welcoming as soon as he enters the office, and he gives you a warm hug without saying anything. His long, black robes give him an interesting aura. His choice of costume frankly surprised you. For someone as eccentric as him, you were ready to bet he'd pick something flashy and colorful, but no. Tonight, he's Death. Your best guess is that he played along with the Grim Reaper nickname, living up to it at least in appearance. His hug gets… handsy. You're being pushed back until your rear bumps into the edge of his desk, and you've no choice but to sit on it. His tongue enters your mouth as his hands never stop wandering on your body, squeezing there and there and feeling you up. "Little Robin." "Hmm?" You barely have the brains left to answer him, just from a few kisses. You want him, now. You hope whatever he wants to talk about right now is directly related to him putting his cock inside you. "What would you do if Death wants to claim you right this instant?" Yes. Gods, yes. "I will simply accept my fate." "Hoooh? Aren't you a good girl!" Victor's long fingers worm their way under layers of clothing until you feel their coldness on your most burning parts. He's inside your panties now, and the way he loses no time slipping two of his digits inside you is making you practically melt. "Ahhh~" He shows no mercy, fingering you at a steady pace from the get-go. You don't hold back either, ready to give him everything you've got. Letting go, you're inevitably pushed over the edge and drenching his fingers with your cum. "And that, my dear," he whispers in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine, "Is called The Little Death." Your heart starts beating faster as you turn your head to capture Victor's gaze. There it is, this strange light in his amethyst eyes again. As if he's just beginning to have his fun with you after revealing another trick up his sleeve. Barely having time to recover, you start moaning in earnest again, as he scissors his fingers through you. Pleasure builds up, and just as you begin to get used to it, Victor changes the angle and begins hitting your sweet spot at the upper wall of your heat with the roughened pads of his fingers. "Ahh- Victor-Too much-" "Let yourself go, Little Robin. Tonight, I want to take everything you have to offer." Helplessly, you grab onto his dark robes for purchase as an unfamiliar sensation builds inside you. You let go as he tells you to, and you're granted with the obscene sound of water hitting the tiled floor of his office. "Nghh- Victor-" "Marvelous. Let's see how many more you can endure, shall we?" As more liquid escapes you, drenching him completely, you feel shameful, yet it's just so good it turns your brain to mush. You're not sure how many more little deaths Victor can pry out of your body, but you'll gladly leave yourself in his arms until the sun comes out.

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devsblurbs · 3 days ago

Text

Sex Pollen — B . Blake

Summary – Reader and Bellamy have always hated each other, from the moment the ship landed they were constantly at each others throats. Clarke having had enough of it for the evening, sends them away to go cover some more ground outside of the camp. They come across a clearing of some flowers, but they aren’t normal flowers, and the pollen does something to them.

Warnings - 18+ MDNI , smut , unprotected sex , oral ( f received ) , degrading , use of praise , strong language , some angst , choking , biting

Word count - 5.6k

The chilled air of the evening hummed with tension, it hung in the air heavily, like a weight crushing everyone around down into the soil. Y/n and Bellamy stood in the center of their little camp, the campfire’s embers crackling in the background, a soft contrast to their raised voices

Everyone around knew not to get involved or get into the middle of it when they were fighting, it was futile. From the moment they had landed, those two had been at eachothers throats. They couldn’t be around one another for more than a few seconds without some kind of argument following.

She hated the way Bellamy thought he was better than everyone else, and even more so she hated that he was rash and always thought he was right. No one ever really questioned him, except for her. He hated how stubborn she was, how she could never just listen to what he had to say. She always had some sort of snarky remake to fire back, she simply could never leave anything he said alone.

Most of the time Y/n had a fair point, she was more strategic with her plans. She took the little details into consideration, while Bellamy didn’t, but god forbid she try to tell him he’s wrong.

“You think your way is always the right one, don’t you?” Y/n said to him, her fists clenched tightly to her sides.

They had been going for the past half an hour, back and forth about some plan Bellamy had thrown together, and when Y/n caught wind of it, and its recklessness she couldn’t stop herself from saying something to him.

“And you think your plans are any better?” He practically spat out her, his tone laced with annoyance.

She simply laughed, causing a confused expression to quickly flash across his features. probably wondering in his head what the hell she found so funny, as if reading his mind she was quick to answer that question.

“Not that you’d ever admit it, but do you realize how many times me interjecting has saved your ass, or saved the whole camp the trouble of your half assed plan going backwards. You never take the whole picture into consideration!”

God she sure knew how to push his buttons, how dare she stand her and yell at him like that. Right before he could fire back, Clarke, who had been watching silently with crossed arms, finally stepped forward clearly having enough of the two’s screaming match.

“Enough!” Clarke snapped, the two of them turned towards her slightly startled but both still blistering with rage.

“I’m sick and tired of listening to you two screaming at eachother,” She huffed out, “Go out there.” She gestured toward the dense forest beyond the camp, leaving the two to look at her like she was insane.

Y/n scoffed, glaring at Bellamy before returning her gaze to Clarke. “You’ve got to be out of your mind-” Before Y/n could continue, Clarke shut it down, interjecting, “Frankly, I don’t give a shit right now. Just go survey the area, or kill each other, I don’t care which. I’m done listening to your guys bickering for tonight.”

They both weren’t amused by this, but they also knew it wasn’t worth arguing. The faster they left, the faster they could come back and go their separate ways.

Both still simmering with frustration and anger, they grabbed guns and headed for the gates of their little camp, heading out. The silence was tense and eerie as the trees swallowed them whole, not bothering to spare each other a glance, let alone waste air talking.

Bellamy and Y/n trudged through the dense forest, their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves and snapping twigs, guns slung over both of their shoulders, scowls resting on their faces clearly not amused with the task at hand.The tension between them lingered in the air like a storm cloud though neither had spoken since leaving the camp.

Branches reached out like skeletal fingers, brushing against their arms as the canopy above darkened, and the temperature steadily dropped. They swayed in the light breeze, moving back and forth as to come out and grab onto them. The forest grew quieter, save for the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

Looking around cautiously, her foot tripped over a tree stump, she was quick to catch herself, mumbling under her breath about how this whole thing was stupid. As if she wasn’t already annoyed enough, he just had to speak up.

“Watch your step.” He muttered, much to her dismay breaking the silence that settled over them.

She scoffed but didn’t respond, she wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit, and now too focused on the uneven terrain, now determined not to trip again, she refused to give him another reason to criticize her.

After more trudging through the thick woods, they emerged from the dense eerie trees into a clearing, the sight causing both of them to freeze right in their tracks.

Under the pale glow of the moonlight, the clearing unfolded like something out of a dream– or a nightmare. Hundreds of flowers blanketed the ground, the petals shimmering faintly, glowing almost as the moonlight hit them. They ranged from light blues, to violets, and pinks, their colors shifting with each movement of air hitting them.

The silence was heavier, almost sacred. Even the crickets and birds seemed to have fallen silent, leaving only the soft whisper of the breeze.

“Y/n..” He finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “What the hell is this place?”

It was clear he was feeling uneasy, nervous almost. A feeling settled into his gut, something telling him that they shouldn’t be there.

She stepped forward more towards the flowers, her boots brushing against the edge of them, “I don’t know.. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He followed closely behind her, as they moved deeper into the clearing the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a gut wrenching feeling creeping up his spine. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t natural.

“This doesn’t feel right,” he muttered, the heavy air weighing down his chest.

She crouched down to touch one of the flowers, the petals silky and cold against her slender fingers, but there was something strange about them.

“They look like they’re glowing.” She whispered, staring deeply at them, she was almost mesmerized. She knew they weren't normal, but she wasn’t as skeptical of them as Bellamy was.

His Gaze darted around the clearing, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his knife, “We shouldn’t be here, this place.. It’s not natural.”

She straightened up, her eyes narrowing at him, of course he’d find a way to try to ruin something beautiful.

“You’re paranoid, they’re just flowers. Not everything is out to kill us, Bellamy.”

He simply scoffed, “Really? Because from the moment we’ve landed, a lot of strange shit has happened.”

She went to argue back, but shut her mouth, she couldn’t really argue with that. They’ve run into so many issues, and dangerous things from the moment their feet planted onto the soil. Silence overtook them again, her eyes scanning over the flowers, all shining in the faint glow of the moon casting down from the opening in the trees above them. Her skin raised with goosebumps as the cold air nipped at her.

“I don’t know, they’re strangely beautiful..” She spoke softly, a side of her Bellamy never got to hear, it was foreign to his ears.

The breeze picked up causing her to shiver a bit, the flowers swaying more and more. She watched them move, they almost danced to a silent melody as they moved, it was almost hypnotic. Her usual rough piercing gaze was replaced by one of awe, as she stared at them.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous though.” He said, his eyes still cautiously looking around. Before he could speak again, a gust of wind swept through the clearing, the flowers swayed violently, a stark contrast to the melodic moving they once did, as they moved a shimmering cloud of pollen filled the air around them. The golden particles sparkled in the moonlight, almost like tiny floating stars as it invaded their lungs.

“What the hell..” He was quick to cover his mouth and nose with his arm, in an attempt to not breathe in any more of the pollen.

She staggered backwards a bit, coughing as the pollen swirled around them, it seemed to cling to the air, invasive and inescapable, its presence unerringly warm in the cold of the night.

“Don’t.. breathe it in,” He said between coughs, though it was already far too late for that. The shimmering pollen seemed to settle over everything–the flowers, their clothes, their skin. It lingered in the air for a moment longer before finally disappearing.

She finally straightened up, running her fingers through her hair, and taking deep, but cautious breaths. “What the fuck was that..” She murmured trying to wrap her head around what the hell just transpired.

He doubled over, his hands on his knees, panting slightly, as he attempted to catch his breath, “I have no idea, but that wasn’t normal.”

His heart beat quickly, irregularly the world swaying a bit as he stayed there. When he finally caught his breath and stood up, his skin was covered with a dull sense of pins and needles, a slight bit of sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cold air, glistening in the dull light cast over by the moon.

She didn’t realize that she had been staring, until she looked away, her own body feeling uneasy. Her legs are almost weak, and her heart erratic.

“I feel weird..” She spoke, her voice slightly hoarse, a lump almost lodged in her throat. Bellamy only nodded, his gaze burning into her as she spoke.

Her voice sounded melodic to him, which was a contrast from the usual annoyance he got from it. But right in this moment, it was alluring and it was pulling him in.

His nerves in his body felt like they were igniting, a match catching them on fire, his breaths staggered, his body warm. Her eyes made their way back to his figure, focusing on the way his chest heaved, the way his skin glowed under the light. As much as she wanted to look away, something was stopping her.

“Bell..” She murmured, her lips parted slightly, wiping some of the sweat away from her forehead.

He almost growled at the sound of his name leaving her lips, it sounded so pretty to him, it made his heart race even more if that was possible. The world around him felt so distant, the glow of the flowers blurring into a soft, otherworldly light. The only thing either of them could focus on was the pull–an invisible force drawing them together, insistent, and undeniable.

He didn’t answer, his dark eyes locked onto hers as his chest moved with each ragged breath he took. The usual frustration and anger he held was replaced with something deeper, something almost primal. His body felt like it was no longer his own, every instinct screaming at him to get closer to her.

He took a step forward, and Y/n didn’t move away. Her body mirrored his, leaning closer even as her mind struggled to catch up. As he stood in front of her, and her eyes stared up into his, he snapped.

The tension between them too strong, his hands gripped her arms, his touch firm and desperate as he pulled her to him, chest to chest, his touch on her arms setting her mind into overdrive, her skin on fire with just the slightest touch. Before she could react any further, his lips crashed onto hers, capturing her into a rough and demanding kiss.

She gasped against his lips, her hands instinctively gripping his shirt as her body betrayed her. The heat in both of their veins intensified with every second, and she found herself desperately pressing into him, her own desperation matching his.

The kiss was fierce and unrelenting, a collision of all the bottled up emotions between them. All the anger, all the frustration being taken out with it. The world faded away, leaving only the two of them.

She finally pulled away, almost regretting it, her lips swollen and aching for his as soon as they left.

“Bellamy..” She whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

His forehead was pressed against hers, his breaths heavy and uneven. “I don’t know what's happening,” he admitted, his voice raw, “But I can’t–”

She silenced him by pulling him back down, her lips finding his again with just as much urgency. It was like the pollen from the flowers was messing with them, igniting all the nerves in their bodies and igniting something animalistic. As their lips battled against one another, his hands roamed up her back, until one settled onto the back of her neck pushing her more into him, deepening the kiss, while her hands roamed up his chest, one landing in his hair tugging at it.

He was the one that pulled away this time panting harshly, something dark behind his brown eyes. His eyes bore into hers, his hair disheveled, he was staring at her like she was his prey.

“Y/n..” He groaned out, his voice breaking almost.

His hand moved slowly from the back of her neck to her neck to her face, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Gotta stop.. I keep going, I won't be able to.” He said breathlessly, though he said that, his mind was silently pleading her to tell him to keep going.

Her own body felt the pull between them, it was a relentless force, everything in her yearned for more, screamed at her to pull him back in. She looked up at him with half lidded eyes, “Please don’t..” It came out meekly, like some sort of plea, differently from her usual firecracker persona.

Those words, the way she said them drove him up the wall. The way her lips were swollen, face flushed, how her voice trembled, her thighs pressed together needily. She made it clear that she didn’t want him to stop, so he wasn’t going too.

Bellamy moved his hand from her face to her neck, squeezing roughly, pulling a whine from her lips. He almost groaned at that, the way it sounded leaving her lips was like heaven. He pulled her back in, kissing her just as fiercely as before, this time with no intent of holding back and stopping. The kiss was needy, hungry, fed by the relentless desire that they both had settled into them.

When he finally pulled away, it was to pull her down onto the soft soil, the earth cool against her overheated skin. Before she could complain, his lips were all over her neck, sloppily kissing, and nipping all over. She panted softly, back arching off the ground, her hips brushing against his, bringing a groan past his lips and sending a vibration through her skin. He used one of his hands to push her hips down into the ground, firmly holding her in place. Everything in him screamed to just take her right then and there, but not yet, he wanted to have his fun with her first.

“Patience, love..” His voice was rough and low as he spoke into her ear, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to feel something, anything. His touch was driving her up the wall, she was filled with need for him, and him alone.

His lips went back to her neck, brushing against all her sensitive spots, but when they hit a particular spot that caused her to squirm under him, he bit down. It sent a jolt of stinging pleasure through her body, causing her to gasp.

“Bell..” She whispered out, need lacing her voice.

He hummed against her skin as he worked his way down to her collar bone, leaving sloppy kisses and purple bruises as he continued down his path, his hands now messing with the hem of her shirt. It wasn’t long before he was sliding it off her body, tossing it somewhere next to them on the ground. He stared at her bare chest under the light of the moon in awe, taking her in.

“So fuckin’ pretty..” His voice barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning over her, her chest rising and falling harshly.

He leaned back down, kissing down her chest, his hands moving to cup her breasts, kneading them between his fingers softly, in almost a teasing manner.

“Bell, please..” She whined out, her hands running through his hair.

This brought a smirk to his lips, hearing her all desperate for him. His lips moved over, his tongue trailing against her nipple, as his fingers played with the other. He took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth grazing against the sensitive bud as she whimpered beneath him. He then pulled away rather abruptly, leaving her breathless and almost trembling beneath him. The sudden loss of his touch sent a wave of frustration through her, a soft needy whine escaping her lips, her body arching towards him instinctively.

Her cheeks burned, but the heat pooling in her stomach only grew as he took his time with her. His hands slowly moved down her sides, his calloused fingers grazing over her sensitive skin, sending shivers racing through her body. He looked at her, his eyes darkened with lust, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants, tugging them down, before throwing them off to the side. He once again stared in awe, looking at her fully exposed beneath him, his jeans tightening around him. Her hands lifted up, sliding under his shirt wanting to touch him too. He took the hint, sliding his shirt off, letting it join the growing pile of clothes. She bit her lip as her fingers traced over her his skin, his toned body glistening with sweat.

“Like what you see?” He grinned softly as she stared up at him like he was some sort of god.

She hummed, lost in a daze as her eyes trailed over him, too lost in taking him in to realize that he was now kneeling in between her thighs. Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned his face in, his lips brushing against the inner part of her thighs, his broad shoulders keeping her legs apart. His gaze swept over her, and the intensity in his eyes made her squirm beneath him. He kissed her thighs softly at first, peppering them all over, but as he went the kisses got sloppy, needy almost.

“Bellamy–” She started, her voice trembling, but whatever she was about to say was lost in a loud gasp as his teeth sunk into the soft flesh.

The bite wasn’t gentle, it was rough, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. Her hips jerked a sharp whimper escaping her lips as her hands moved to his hair tugging at his messy curls.

He chuckled darkly against her skin, his breath hot as he trailed kisses and bites along the inner part of her thighs, alternating between soft and harsh. Each scrape of his teeth sent a jolt of heat straight to her core, leaving her writhing and breathless. She couldn’t stop herself from squirming, her body reacting to every touch, everybite. Her legs trembled, but his hands kept her firmly in place, his grip strong and unyielding as he pushed her hips into the ground beneath them.

“Stay still.” He growled out, his voice thick with warning, and the sound sent another shiver racing through her.

Her head fell back against the ground, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she tried to obey, but it was an impossible feat. The ache inside her was unbearable, her body desperate for him, wanting nothing but his touch.

“Please..” She whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

He paused, his lips hovering just barely above her skin, his hot breath fanning over her. His eyes trailed up, and his gaze met hers through his messy curls. The smirk that spread across his lips was both infuriating and intoxicating to her.

“So desperate,” He teased, his tone laced with satisfaction, he did this to her, he was making her fall apart with his touch.

She bit her lip again, her cheeks flushing even deeper, sweat coating her forehead. She didn’t have the energy to argue, or to put up a fight, not with the way his touch was driving her up the wall with pleasure.

His lips hovered over her thighs, close enough to where she could feel the heat of his breath, but far enough to drive her crazy. Her body was trembling, every nerve ending screaming for more, her body on fire, craving him more and more with every touch, but he just smirked at her dragging out the moment.

“Bellamy, please,” She whimpered, her voice practically breaking with desperation. Her hips jerked up toward him, but his strong hands held her firmly in place.

“Not good enough,” He murmured, his voice dark and teasing, “Want me to make you feel good hm, Princess? Beg for me then.”

Her eyes were locked onto his, a mixture of frustration and yearning behind them, she clenched her fists, her nails digging into the soil beneath her, her body in overdrive, desperate for any kind of friction. He leaned into her, his lips brushing over the spot where she needed him most, but not quite giving her what she needed. That’s what broke her, her eyes pleading with him.

“Please, Bell,” She begged, her voice breaking with every word she spoke. “I need you, I–” She let out a shuddering breath, her head falling back onto the ground. “Please, just do something, I need you.” Her voice was filled with desperation, as her body ached for more.

His smirk widened, satisfaction glinting in his dark eyes. “That’s more like it,” He muttered,and without another word he gave in.

He lowered his head between her thighs, burying his face in between them, his mouth working against her with skill and intensity that had her crying out. The first touch of his tongue dragging up against her clit sent a jolt of electricity through her body, her back arching off the ground, as her hands tugged at his messy hair. He had barely started, but her body was on fire, her mind clouded over as he finally was giving her what she craved.

“Bell!” She gasped, her voice breaking into a cry as he pressed into her more, his tongue and lips moving in a perfectly deveasting rhythm.

Her nails dug into his scalp, but it only seemed to spur him on further. His grip on her thighs tightened, sure enough that there would be fresh bruises there the next day to accompany the purple marks his lips left everywhere earlier. As he gripped her his tongue swirled and flicked around in ways that made her see stars. The sounds she made were desperate, unrestrained, they only fueled him to push her closer to the edge.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” He mumbled, as his mouth worked at her, sending the vibrations straight to her core.

Her world narrowed to the feeling of his mouth on her, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation that was pulling her apart piece by piece. Her cries grew louder, her breaths even more erratic than before as her body tightened and trembled against his every touch.

“Bellamy, I–I can’t–” She stammered, but he was relentless, it only drove him to go faster.

His tongue kept working against her, her cries like a melody to his ears. It wasn't until he slipped two fingers in, that she practically yelled out his name. His fingers working with his mouth in harmony, has her eyes rolling back, a wave of pleasure rolling over her. Her body shook, her fingers tugging at his hair roughly as she fell apart beneath him. The way she gasped his name, raw and unfiltered, sent a jolly of satisfaction through him. He didn’t stop, he didn’t let up, his mouth working relentlessly as he let her ride out her high.

Her vision was hazy as the pleasure overwhelmed her, she couldn’t think, couldn't breathe properly, she could only feel.

Finally, as her body calmed down, and her trembling slowed a bit, he slowed his movements. Pulling out his fingers slowly, pressing one last gentle kiss to her thigh. His face covered in her slick, he licked his fingers, cleaning them off, savoring every last bit of her taste.

He had wasted enough time, he was done holding back now. Satisfied with the way he had her falling apart from just his tongue and his fingers, he stood up for a second, making quick work of pulling his jeans off, throwing them to the side. She couldn’t help the way her eyes roamed over him, even as her body trembled from the aftermath of his mouth. His body glistening with sweat, his large cock out for her to see.

He was back on her in an instant, caging her beneath him, as his weight pressed her into the soft earth. His lips found her neck again, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed her body possessively, making sure to leave no inch untouched. The heat radiating between them was unbearable, the pull was impossible to resist.

“You want this?” He growled against her ear, his voice rough and laced with need. His teeth grazed her earlobe, sending another shivering rushing through her, “Hmm, say it.. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.”

She could barely form any words, her breath hitching as his body arched into his, “I do yes..” She managed to stammer out, her voice barely audible.

He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I don’t think I’m very convinced.”

She groaned out, her hips desperately trying to rub against his, “Please, god, Bell.. I want you to fuck me, please I need you.”

The desperation and need in voice was enough for him, he didn’t bother demanding her try to convince him anymore, truth be told he couldn’t wait any longer. The flowers had them both too far gone, their minds clouded, their bodies screaming for more. He positioned himself, his hands gripping her hips tightly, and without warning, his hips snapped into hers with a force that knocked the air from her lungs.

A sharp cry escaped her lips, her nails digging into his shoulder as his hips slammed against hers in a rough, relentless rhythm. He set a punishing pace, every movement filled with raw, and unrestrained need.

“Fuck, princess.. Taking me so well, this pussy was made for me.” He groaned out, his pace never faltering as he rocked his hips into hers.

He cursed under his breath as he kept up his pace, his breath hot against her ear as his hands tightened on her hips pulling her closer with each harsh thrust. The sound of her moans and cries along with the sound of their bodies colliding echoed around them, mixing with the faint rustle of the flowers swaying in the breeze. The pollen still hung thick in the air, amplifying every sensation, every touch, they were both mad with lust.

She felt like she was on fire, her body hypersensitive to every thrust of his hips, every sound that drew from his lips, every glance.

His head fell into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered things under his breath, his voice was raw and broken. His rhythm didn't falter, each thrust hitting deeper, harder than the last, as if he couldn’t get enough for her. His body claiming every inch of hers, trapping her beneath him as to say that she was his and his alone.

Her cries only grew louder, her hands grasping and scratching at him as she tried to ground herself. But she couldn’t, it felt too good, he had her screaming out his name in pleasure.

“What is it, pretty girl? Can’t handle me?” He chuckled darkly against her neck,but he didn’t slow his pace, he kept pounding into her like his life depended on it.

The flowers had stripped them of every barrier, every ounce of control, leaving nothing but a primal need. They were lost in eachother, consumed by the heat, the desperation, the overwhelming desire that neither of them could fight.

His soft growls filled her ears, rough and low, as she trembled beneath him, her moans spilling from her lips with no hesitation. Her nails raked along his sweat-slicked back as he drove into her roughly.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” He spoke into her ear softly, his voice thick with desire. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, and the way she looked at him– flushed, dazed, completely drunk off his cock alone only fueled the fire raging inside of him more.

“Such a mess for me.” His words dripping with satisfaction as one of his hands slipped up to her neck giving it a squeeze pulling a soft gasp from her lips.

His other hand snaked down, to rub circles on her clit as he kept his pace drilling into her, the added pleasure causing tears to stream down her cheeks, her hands gripping his shoulder even harder in an attempt to anchor herself.

“Bellamy!” She moaned out his name, her voice cracking as her body writhed under him, the mixture of his cock and fingers driving her insane.

He groaned against her neck, the sound vibrating through her, and his hips snapped against her even harder, his rhythm growing rougher, needier. “You like this huh?” He growled, his breath hot against her neck, “You like when I use you like this? Being a cock drunk slut for me?”

Her head fell back, her lips parted as she let out a strangled cry, the tension inside her building to a breaking point. Her body was on fire, every nerve alight, every sensation heightened. His grip on her neck tightened, his fingers still rubbing circles against her clit. His lips worked against her neck, biting and kissing sloppily, claiming every inch of her.

“You drive me crazy,” He muttered, his voice almost a snarl as he buried himself deeper, his movements becoming more erratic, more sloppy with each thrust, “You always have.”

She could barely process his words, her find too clouded by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Her body tightened around him, and she felt herself teetering on the edge, her cries growing louder, more desperate.

“Bell, fuck.. I’m–” She stammered, her hands clutching onto him as the wave built higher, threatening to crash over her at any moment.

“Hm, you wanna cum for me?” He murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice softer now but still filled with just as much urgency, “Go on then, cum on my cock.”

That’s all it took for her to go over the edge, her body convulsing under him as her release ripped through her, leaving her gasping and trembling. He kept going, his fingers still drawing lazy circles, his thrusts getting more and more sloppy as she rode out her high. A few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep inside of her, spilling his seed, and painting her walls, claiming her insides as his. His growls turned into a deep groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shaking just a bit before collapsing next to her on the ground.

They laid there for a moment, minds still clouded over, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. Their bodies began to cool down, the heat that had consumed them moments ago ebbed away, leaving behind a strange clarity. Slowly, the effects of the pollen wore off, and with it came the crashing weight of reality.

Her eyes darted around, her chest still heaving as she tried to process what had just happened. Her skin felt cooler now, but it didn’t erase the marks of what just happened– the warmth of his hands, the scrape of his teeth, the way he had her coming undone on his cock.

“What the fuck just happend?” She yelped, her voice cracking as she sat up abruptly, clutching all her discarded clothes. She was quick to scramble to put them on, her hands shaking slightly as she tugged her shirt over her head. Her hair was a wild mess, her body covered in purple bruises, her lips swollen, and her face burned with disbelief and embarrassment of what just happened.

Bellamy, still lying beside her, blinked as if coming out of a fog. He propped himself up on his elbows, a mix of shock and confusion fainted his freckled face. His fair was a tangled mess, his chest and shoulders mocked with red scratches left in the wake of her nails. His lips bore the same swollen look, evident of their fevered kisses.

“I–” He started, his voice hoarse. He paused his brow furrowing as he glanced at Y/n who was furiously tying her boots up.

He was quick to follow, grabbing all his clothes and throwing them on, still just as confused.After they were just dressed, they came face to face.

“I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but we’re going to pretend it didn’t.” She spat out, glaring daggers into him. The lust was long gone, replaced by the familiar bitterness she felt for him.

Though he felt the same way, and hated her, he couldn’t shake the fact that he had her stubborn ass falling apart for him.

“I doubt you’ll forget the way I made you feel.” He smirked, slinging his gun over his shoulder.

She flipped him off, “I hate you, Blake.”

He rolled his eyes, “Feelings mutual firecracker.”

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