#i thought he just acted sympathetic to get the witnesses to feel more comfortable opening up to him

[dont-open-dead-inside-25]

god, do people just... express emotions on accident? is that it? because every time i express something other than unbridled joy it's a deliberate and calculated move... isn't it, if you don't like someone/what they're doing you make micro changes to your behavior and then when they ask about it you say it's fine because that's the script for that situation..? if you're uncomfortable you show it in the "im trying to hide this feeling" way... like you're perfectly capable of not showing any emotion but that's not what you're supposed to do. people are supposed to be able to tell that you're hiding something you have to hit that sweet spot. and if they're close they can ask you what's up and if you're feeling rebellious you can tell them and then you can talk about it. if you're upset and "hiding" it and the person doesn't notice that's their fault. they're not doing their part in the social interaction. right?

[sebflix]

mile high club ; sebastian sallow (m)

pairing: auror!sebastian x auror!reader(f)

genre: one-shot smut, modern au, colleagues that basically get together after a one night stand

warnings: all characters are 18+! fingering, kissing, begging, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mirror sex, spanking, creampie, car sex mentioned, they have sex in a plane bathroom

word count: 6.5k

chapter synopsis: as an Auror assigned to attend a conference, you find yourself on the plane, only to bump into the one person you've been avoiding. a confrontation leads to an unexpected encounter in a cramped aeroplane restroom.

other notes: heavily inspired by meredith and riggs from greys anatomy, specifically the plane scene

links: ao3, masterlist

[read on ao3]

“Ladies and gentlemen, as we prepare for take off, please ensure that your seat belts are fastened, your seat back and tray tables are in their full upright position. Thank you.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out the shuffle of people around you as the final preparations for take off unfold. The rustling of bags, the click of overhead bins being opened and closed, and the low murmur of conversation as people find their seats and settle in.

Its not that you hate flying. But the turbulence, the unnatural way the plane shudders through the sky, always leaves your stomach in knots. The whole ordeal is laughable really. You’re a great flyer on a broom, travelling to all sorts of places. Yet here, in this uncomfortable seat, you feel queasy.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady your nerves. As an Auror, you've faced dark wizards, magical creatures, and more dangerous situations than most can imagine. But somehow, the mundane act of flying in a metal tube at high speeds unsettles you in a way few other things can.

Your boss has entrusted you to represent your department at a conference in Los Angeles. You attempted to get yourself reassigned, but both you and your boss knew you were the best person for the job. You exhale slowly, steeling yourself — not just for the flight, but for the challenges that await on the ground.

A wailing child abruptly pulls you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes to the sight of a young mother struggling to buckle her crying toddler into his seat beside you. The boy’s face is flushed with frustration, his small fists pounding the air as tears stream down his cheeks. His cries cut through the ambient noise of the cabin, drawing sympathetic glances from other passengers.

The mother, frazzled but determined, murmurs soothing words as she fumbles with the seatbelt, her hands trembling slightly. She finally manages to secure him and glances at you with weary eyes, offering an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, he's not usually like this. He just didn’t get a nap today," she mumbles, her voice tinged with exhaustion as she gently rocks her son in an effort to calm him down.

"That’s fine, I know how that goes," you reply with a reassuring smile. Memories flicker through your mind —countless times you’ve had to soothe nervous witnesses or comfort frightened children after an encounter with dark magic. The intensity of those moments is worlds apart from this one, yet there’s a familiar thread in the act of comforting someone in distress.

“It’s our first family trip together,” she continues with a weary sigh, trying to keep her son in the seat. “My husband planned it last minute.” She rolls her eyes, a mix of affection and exasperation in her expression. “He said it would be blissful and relaxing, but it seems like that’s not going as planned.”

You chuckle softly. “Sounds like he had the best of intentions,” you offer, your smile widening. “But I’ve learned that when it comes to travel, especially with little ones, ‘relaxing’ rarely goes as planned.” You catch the child’s eye, and with a slight wave of your hand, he quiets down a bit, curiosity momentarily replacing his fussiness.

She laughs lightly. “You’re telling me. I had this vision of us lounging on the beach, but right now I’d settle for just five minutes of peace.”

Just then, a bearded man approaches, interrupting your conversation. “Excuse me, sorry. Marianne, are you okay?” he crouches down beside your seat, concern in his voice as he looks at the woman next to you. “I can hear him all the way from my seat. Do you want me to take him?” He extends his arms toward his son, his expression a mix of sympathy and helplessness.

Marianne shakes her head with a tired smile. “It’s okay, Robert. Go sit back down. I’ve got it.”

“You both weren’t able to sit next to each other?” you ask, noting the strain in their exchange.

“Like I said, last minute,” she shrugs.

You glance at the man, Robert, and then back at Marianne, sensing how much easier the flight might be for them if they were together. “Well, do you want to swap seats? I’d be happy to trade mine with yours.”

Marianne’s eyes widen in surprise, and then her face brightens with relief. “Are you sure? That would be great!” she exclaims, her tone filled with gratitude.

“Absolutely,” you reply with a reassuring nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Here you are now, quickly squeezing through the narrow aisle with your bag in tow, weaving past other passengers and the occasional outstretched leg. You glance at the seat numbers as you move forward.

“38A, 38A…” You murmur to yourself as you navigate past a row of travellers adjusting their belongings. You finally spot your seat in the middle section: a row with three seats, two of which are already occupied. A young girl sits in the middle seat with her headphones on, lost in her own world, while a man occupies one of the aisle seat.

With a small sigh of relief, you begin to put your bags down, but your movement stalls as you catch sight of the man in your row. The brown, shaggy hair is unmistakable. He’s hunched forward, a book resting on his lap, his head bent down in concentration as he reads. His grey jumper fits snugly, highlighting the outline of his shoulders. You could just about see his light coloured freckles scattered across his cheeks, barely visible because of his hair, but familiar enough to make your heart race.

“Oh God.” you whisper, barely audible, as you recognise him. The hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. The sudden realisation that you’re in the same plane as him fills you with dread. You consider retreating to your old seat and asking Robert to swap back, but before you can make a decision, a flight attendant approaches with a firm expression.

“Miss, please take your seat now. We’re preparing for take off,” she instructs.

Caught between panic and resignation, you take a deep breath and force yourself to settle into your seat.

As you hastily fasten your seatbelt, the man tilts his head from his book and up at your presence and does a double take. His eyes widen in shock, clearly stunned to see you here. For a brief, suspended moment, he gapes at you, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You lock eyes, a heavy silence settling between you as the plane’s engines roar to life. The vibration of the aircraft and the hum fills the space around you, but your focus remains fixed on him.

This is not what you needed today, of all days. Sebastian Sallow, your colleague, in the same plane as you. What are the chances. He works as an Auror in the same department and the history between you is anything but ordinary. Initially, you clashed with him at every turn when you first started working for the Ministry. You noticed how prone he was to make rash decisions on the field, in stark contrast to your cautious approach, and you found yourselves butting heads more often than not.

Despite the friction, you both made an effort to set aside personal differences for the sake of the job. Over time, what began as professional conflict gradually turned into a hesitant friendship. He became the one to crack jokes and lighten the mood, his relentless humour serving as a welcome distraction from the more sombre aspects of your work. Even the office became aware of it, your colleagues often teasing you about the dynamic. It doesn’t help that Sebastian shamelessly flirts with you openly, even though you brush off every word he says.

But not everything was smooth sailing. One night, during an especially tense argument, you stormed out of the office, stung by something Sebastian had said. His stubbornness kicked in, and he didn’t let you leave without a word. He followed you all the way to the car park, where the confrontation escalated into a heated exchange. What you didn’t expect is to end up in the back seat of your car with you laying against the seats as Sebastian pleasured you between your legs and sang praises about you being a good girl for him.

Since that night, you decided it was a one-time thing — just friends who happened to have sex once. Even Sebastian agreed with you. Despite the mutual understanding, you've been meticulously avoiding him at work. You’ve started taking different routes through the office, slipping out of meetings early, and making excuses to stay out of his way. It feels like he’s everywhere, a constant reminder of what happened that night.

Even though you manage to remain civil, the tension is undeniable. The occasional lingering looks he gives you around the office only amplifies the energy. Still, you’re determined to keep things strictly professional, no matter how challenging it is to dodge the pull he has on you.

Now, here you are, seated mere inches from him on a flight, the weight of unresolved issues looming large as the plane slowly begins to move along the runway. The irony of this unexpected reunion gnaws at you, adding yet another layer of discomfort to an already turbulent day. The heavens were clearly against your luck today, but you were grateful for the passenger seated between you both.

“Hello,” he says, still gaping at you in disbelief.

“Hi,” you reply curtly, the awkwardness hanging heavily between you.

“Where’d you come from?”

“4C,” you raise your brows with a hint of exasperation. “I was playing the good Samaritan, reuniting a family. Serves me right,” you mutter, shaking your head at how you got yourself in this situation.

You turn to him, still puzzled about his presence. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to a conference. What about you?”

“I’m going to a conference,” you say, and then burst into absurd laughter as the sheer coincidence hits you. “The National Conference on…”

“Dark Magic Defence.” he finishes for you, a look of disbelief on his face.

You both stare at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. The realisation that your boss has placed you both on the same assignment at this event seems almost too deliberate. You had a nagging suspicion that she did this on purpose, perhaps having observed how the friction between you was affecting work.

“You didn’t mention you were going.” you say, attempting to sound casual but unable to hide your surprise.

He gives you a deadpan look. “Well, neither did you,” he replies, his tone flat, clearly alluding to the fact that the two of you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms lately.

A silence hangs in the air until you finally break it with a raised eyebrow. “You sure you’re not following me?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious.

He lets out an incredulous laugh. “What? You’re the one who just moved into my row! If anything, I should be asking if you’re following me.” The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you retort, turning to face the front, determined to ignore him.

But you can feel his gaze lingering on you, practically burning into the side of your face. “It is a little suspicious, though,” he continues, his voice playful. “One minute there was some bearded guy sitting next to me, and the next thing I know, you’re here. Almost like magic.”

You shoot him a withering glare, ready to snap back, but the plane’s announcement interrupts you.

”Flight crew, please start readying the cabin.”

You bite back your retort, choosing instead to face forward and snuggle into your seat, trying to relax. But clearly, luck isn’t on your side today because his voice breaks your peace once again.

“Well, this might not be the worst thing in the world.”

“What’s not?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Three whole days… far from home… no one around to bother us…” His voice drops slightly, just enough to make the innuendo unmistakable.

You can sense where this is going. “I told you, we’re done. No more messing around,” you say firmly.

“Not even a little messing around?” His tone is half-teasing, half-hopeful, as if he’s testing the waters.

“We agreed,” You give him a pointed look.

Just as he’s about to push the issue further, the girl in the middle seat pulls off her headphones and glances between the two of you. “You guys wanna switch seats so you’re sitting next to each other, or…?”

“No,”

”Yes,”

You both simultaneously answer. You lock eyes again, the tension now so thick you could cut it with a knife, as the announcement chimes. “Cabin crew, please be seated for take off.”

You give him one last glance before turning away, settling into your seat, gripping the armrests to calm your nerves as the plane’s speed quickens. As the plane takes off, you make a silent vow to avoid any more conversation for the rest of the flight.

If only it was that easy.

Sebastian, however, has other plans. Despite your best efforts to shut him out, he keeps yapping away, oblivious to your obvious attempt at ignoring him. He’s going on and on about the situation between the two of you.

"Look, I know things got complicated, but you can't just—"

You tighten your grip on the armrest, desperately trying to maintain your composure. Maybe if you focus on the hum of the plane in the background and pretend you’re somewhere far, far away, you can drown out his voice. You keep your eyes squeezed shut, your face turned slightly away from him, hoping he’ll take the hint. But he’s persistent, his voice lowering to a whisper that you wish you could unhear.

”You know what they say. Sometimes the universe gives you signs and this could be one of the signs.” he continues, as if you’re not sitting there pretending to be asleep. You can almost feel his eyes boring into you, searching for any sign that you’re awake and listening.

He leans forward, squinting at your face, as if trying to read your very thoughts. “I know you’re not asleep,” he hisses softly.

The girl in the middle seat, momentarily distracted from her music, pipes up, mistaking his words for hers. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Oh, sorry. No, Millie. You’re fine. I wasn’t talking to you,” Sebastian responds, his voice dripping with awkward charm.

You keep your eyes tightly shut, resisting the urge to roll them in annoyance. Finally, you break your silence, your voice muffled but clear. “I’d be asleep if you’d leave me alone.”

Millie, clearly intrigued, glances between the two of you. “Why isn’t she talking to you?”

Sebastian looks at you, a pensive expression crossing his face. “Well, we got together. In her car.”

Millie’s interest piques, and she hums an enthusiastic “yes” as she listens, her curiosity evident. You open your eyes in bewilderment and glance at him in disbelief. You cannot believe Sebastian is spilling personal details about your night together to a complete stranger.

”And then we decided that it was a one time thing and stayed as colleagues, even though there’s clearly still sexual tension here and…”

”And nothing,” You interrupt him, shaking your head at the audacity of him. “For very good reasons.”

Sebastian, undeterred, presses on. “She thinks our relationship might impact our work.”

You interject firmly. “No, there is no ‘our’ relationship, because there is no ‘us’.”

A faint frown flashes across his face, gone in an instant, but not before you catch it. The sting of your words is evident, and a pang of guilt tugs at you, making you wonder if you’ve been too harsh.

Millie, now thoroughly entertained by this unexpected drama, looks between the two of you with wide eyes. You can almost see the popcorn in her imagination as she takes in the spectacle.

You groan inwardly, trying to maintain your composure. “This isn’t a debate, Sebastian. We’re simply not going to discuss this in front of a complete stranger.”

Sebastian smirks, clearly enjoying the confrontation. “Oh, come on. It’s not like we’re hiding anything. Millie here has already heard half of it.”

Millie nods enthusiastically, as if she’s about to offer an unsolicited opinion on your personal lives. “Well, it’s certainly an interesting story.”

Thankfully, the seatbelt sign dings off, and the cabin lights dim slightly as the flight attendants begin their rounds. You take this as your cue. Slipping your seatbelt off, you announce to Sebastian, “I’m going to stretch my legs.” You offer him a curt nod and stand up.

You make your way to the back of the plane, navigating the narrow aisle. As you approach the cramped restroom, you mentally brace yourself for a moment of solitude, hoping to clear your head and avoid further confrontation with Sebastian.

Just as you reach the restroom and begin to open the door, you hear a sudden shuffle behind you. Before you can step inside and lock the door, someone pushes in right behind you, pressing you further into the tiny space. You let out a surprised “Whelp!” as you turn around briskly at the intruder, only to be met with the unmistakable face of Sebastian.

He steps in quickly, reaching for the handle and shutting the door with a definitive click. The small restroom instantly feels even more claustrophobic with the two of you squeezed inside. You try and lean away from him, looking up at his face in puzzlement.

“What—what are you doing here?!” you stammer in shock.

Sebastian, looking unperturbed, simply shrugs. “Well, you said to come in here.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “No I didn’t!”

“Yeah you did. You did that thing, with your eyes.”

“My eyes?” You’re completely lost.

“Yeah, you know, that look.” He mimics you with exaggerated movements, pretending to be seductive as he eyes you up and down. “And then you came in here, so I figured you wanted me to join you.”

You honestly can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I didn’t do anything with my eyes!”

He gives you a knowing look and leans his arm against the bathroom wall, his muscles tensing under his jumper. The cuffs are rolled up to his forearm, showcasing the prominent veins visible across his arm. You gulp, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising in your cheeks.

“Well, it looked like—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Sebastian, there’s no room in here.” You dramatically gesture around the tiny space. He follows your gaze and seems to realise just how cramped it is. He shakes his head and lands his gaze back on you.

“Well, I still need to talk to you,” he insists.

“That’s literally all you’ve been doing!” you retort, vexed. You lean your head forward in defeat, eyes on the floor. “Talking!”

“Without someone sitting between us and you closing your eyes,” he adds with an exhale. You meet his gaze, your frustration bubbling inside you. You roll your shoulders back, preparing for the next round of whatever is going to spew out of his mouth.

“Well, make it quick. I have to pee.”

“Alright, so you’ve made it clear you don’t want us to be together or continue this.”

“Yes, I’ve been very clear,” you confirm, crossing your arms.

“Well, I need to be clear too. You and I…” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “This thing between us, it’s something. And I can’t just keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

”Well you have to.”

”I can’t.”

”Not my problem.” You shrug your shoulders at him.

”Can you?”

”What?”

”Ignore it.”

”Yes!” You groan and nod.

”Well I don’t believe you.” He smirks, a hint of playful challenge in his eyes.

“Well, believe whatever you need to believe to get out of here,” you snap.

At that moment, the plane hits a turbulent patch, jolting you both. You lurch forward and slam right into Sebastian’s firm chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, turning you both so you’re now pressed against the bathroom door. You look up at him, eyes wide with surprise and something else you can’t quite place.

“Why?” he begins, his voice low and intense.

You don’t respond to his question, so he continues, “Why do we have to ignore this? Back at home, fine, but there’s no one here to see us!”

You remain silent, trying to find your words. Your mind races, conflicted between desire and reason. Your heart pounds in your chest as the proximity between you both becomes almost unbearable. Finally, you say, “That doesn’t matter.” You’re trying to convince yourself as much as him, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your lips.

“Why not?”

You groan, tilting your head back against the door. “You know why.”

For once, he falls silent, his gaze locked on yours, as if he's trying to decide what his next step is. His eyes search yours intently, vulnerability flickering in them.

“Okay,” he finally states, his tone softening. “Then I’ll go.”

The tension between you is so tangible. You stay rooted in place, arms crossed, your eyes locked on his.

“But you might want to move so I can actually get out the door,” he adds, pointing to the closed door behind you.

You exhale slowly, your inner thoughts struggling. You want to move, to give him space and end this cramped, intense encounter. But a deeper part of you resists, drawn to the heat of his presence, the undeniable pull of the closeness.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You lick your lips unconsicously, and his gaze instantly fixates on them. His focus makes your pulse quicken, a flush spreading across your cheeks as you become acutely aware of every breath and movement.

“So what aren’t you moving?” Your voices are low, almost hesitant, as if treading carefully around the charged atmosphere between you.

The plane jolts again, and now Sebastian is just inches away from you, his eyes hooded with lust. The closeness, the charged energy between you, is undeniable. Your heart pounds so loudly you can hear it in your ears. The way he’s eyeing your every movement sends a shiver down your spine. You keep your gaze locked with his as you finally make a decision.

“Whatever happens, this never happened. Okay?” You manage to say, your voice trembling slightly as you give him a pointed look.

He simply nods, a slow smile spreading across his face as his captivating eyes remain fixed on yours.

You lean in, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. The contact is electric, sparking a heat that sweeps through you both. For a brief, suspended moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist as you give into him completely.

The initial softness melts away as the kiss deepens, igniting a passionate intensity that feels like fire engulfing you both. You drape your arms around him, pulling him closer, your bodies pressed tightly together. His hands grip your waist, drawing you flush against him, the heat of his touch magnifying the urgency of the moment.

His lips move with a fervour that matches the rapid thrum of your heart, as if he’s trying to capture every unspoken emotion between you. As your kiss, memories of the first time you shared together in the back of your car come flooding back. The familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the leather seats, and you can almost feel the cool night air from the slightly open gap of the window. Your fingers tremble as they did then, ghosting over his jawline, retracing the path they took so many months ago. He pulls you closer, one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed firmly against the small of your back.

You respond with equal fervour, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The small space feels even tighter now, the only sounds being the muffled hum of the plane and your shared, ragged breaths.

“Sebastian… I need you.” You say in between kisses, trying to catch you breath. He lets out a deep sigh in response to your words, then suddenly spins you around and lifts you up onto the small vanity counter. The cool surface of the vanity contrasts with the heat of his touch, sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, desperate for more contact. He doesn’t detach for your lips, your tongues tangling together as his fingers swiftly unbutton your blouse.

Once he gets it off, Sebastian smoothes his palms over the surface of your skin, leaning forward to press kisses along the column of your neck. “God, you look so hot when you’re mad at me.” He groans, moving down to suck on the skin just above your breast. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You moan at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His hands roam your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you gasp, even as you arch into his touch.

"Do you want me to stop?" Sebastian murmurs against your collarbone, his breath hot on your skin.

Without thinking, you shake your head, unable to form words as his hands deftly unhook your bra. "No, don't stop," you manage to whisper. He captures your lips again in a searing kiss as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You moan into his mouth, your core instinctively grinding against him as you wrap your legs tightly around him.

He groans and peppers kisses down your breastbone, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Once he gets to your breasts, he sucks on your peaked nipple, eliciting a moan from your lips. Sebastian's free hand slides down to your thighs, playing with the hem of your skirt. He grows impatient, pushing your skirt higher. He glides his hand up and down your soft thighs, teasing you with feather-light touches. You shiver with anticipation as his fingers creep ever higher. Sebastian's mouth moves to your other breast, lavishing it with attention. You arch your back, pressing closer to him. His hand finally reaches its destination, stroking you through the thin fabric of your underwear. You gasp at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly.

"Tell me you want this," His lips part from your nipple, and his eyes meet yours with dilated pupils. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he waits for your reply.

You lean your head back and look at him. There’s a part of you that knows if this continues further, the chance of keeping things professional will be impossible. You should definitely push him away, and tell him that this will affect your boundaries at work. But the way one hand is slowly stroking the wetness seeping on your panties and the other is idly playing with your nipple, you lose all reasonable thought.

"I want this," you breathe out, your voice husky with desire. "I want you, Sebastian.”

His eyes darken at your words and he crashes his lips to yours once more. His hands push your skirt higher until it bunches around your waist. You gasp as his fingers brush against the hem of your panties.

"Already so wet for me," he groans, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he strokes you, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure. "I've missed touching you like this."

You whimper, clinging to his shoulders as he works you closer to the edge. The small space is filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing and muffled moans.

"Sebastian, please," you beg, desperate for more.

He obliges, sliding two fingers inside you as his thumb continues to tease your clit. You throw your head back onto the mirror, a wanton moan spilling out as his fingers pump in and out, building a delicious pressure. You try to keep quiet but the pleasure is too much.

“Try to stay quiet, baby. You don’t want someone to walk in, do you?” He teases against your ear, and you moan at his dirty words. He chuckles and reaches behind his pocket to grab his wand, pointing it at the door and muttering an incantation under his breath. He quickly puts his wand back, and focuses back on you.

“Now you can be as loud as you want.” He smirks and curls his fingers inside you as he reaches a spot that makes you close your eyes in pleasure. You're so close, teetering on the edge of release. You start to rock your hips against his hand as he groans at you tightening around his digits.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs against your neck. "Let go for me."

His words push you over the edge. Your body tenses as waves of ecstasy wash over you, Sebastian's fingers guiding you through your release. As you come down from your high, he pulls your fingers out of your core and brings them up in between you both.

Without a second though, he brings them to his lips and tastes your release. “Hmm, tastes so fucking sweet, just like I remember,” he teases. He hums lowly as his eyes locks with yours, licking his slender digits clean.

You stay fixed on the obscene image in front of you, mouth parted slightly as you feel a gush of wetness coming out. You grab the collar of his jumper and pull him into a deep, passionate kiss.

"I need you," you breathe against his lips. "Now."

Sebastian doesn't need to be told twice. He yanks you off the vanity and turns you around, bending you against the counter. You let out a mewl at the new position, pushing your hips outwards desperately.

He pushes your skirt upwards and yanks your panties down impatiently. You hear him fumble with his belt behind you, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to bring his throbbing cock out. He positions himself at your dripping core, barely pushing the tip in. You cry out impatiently.

”I can’t believe you pushed me away for so long, when we could have been doing this.” He mutters, watching his tip glide between your wet folds.

”Please,” you begged hoarsely, “please,”

Sebastian leans forward to nip at your shoulder, chills travelling across your back. “Please what, baby?” He mocks as he pushes an inch further into you.

You moan at the feeling of being stretched, juices dripping between your legs. “Please fuck me already, Sebastian!” you gasp in fustration.

He pushes his full length into you without warning. You cry out in pain at the sudden fullness. Sebastian grabs your hips and starts to piston into you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and measured. You grip the edge of the vanity, your knuckles turning white as waves of pleasure wash over you.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans, his pace quickening. "So tight and wet for me." You feel a sharp slap as his hand connects with your cheek, followed by the warmth of his palm as he gently soothes the area.

You moan his name in response, pushing back against him to meet his thrusts. The small bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your loud cries of pleasure.

“Yes, moan my name baby, let everyone on this plane hear how good I’m making you feel,” he growls, watching how he’s fucking you in the mirror, you chin against your chest as your breasts bounce with every thrust.

The way he’s rolling his hips into you makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. As one of your hands snakes its way to your clit, he grabs it, pinning it behind you on your lower back. “Only I am allowed to make you come. Don’t touch yourself.” Your legs shudder in response as he whispers into your ear. You can only gasp as he pushes into you faster and faster.

“Three whole days…,” He chuckles and presses into the small of your back, forcing you to arch for him even more. “Three whole days of us in a hotel room, with you screaming my name and cumming on my cock like a good girl.”

“Oh god, Sebastian.” You moan loudly, the though of you and Sebastian spending more passionate nights together makes your cheeks heat up. You don’t doubt his words. He is a man that keeps his promises. You found that out about him the hard way.

Sebastian's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Yes, say my name, just like that," he growls, his voice husky with desire.

You brace yourself against the counter, your legs shaking as the pressure builds inside you, nearly tipping over the edge. He can feel you clench around him, desperately trying to milk his orgasm.

Sebastian fists a hand into your hair and yanks you back, forcing you to look at your reflection. You hardly recognise yourself, eyes rolled back in pleasure as drool trails down the corner of your mouth. He catches your gaze in the mirror as he keeps fucking you without slowing down one bit.

“Watch me fuck you.” He snarls, his thrusts going faster than ever. His face is next to yours, his muscular chest flushed against your back. He never breaks eye contact with you, kissing the skin behind your ear as he pounds into you again and again.

You can feel your orgasm building rapidly, the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter in your core. "I'm close Sebastian," you gasp, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth surface of the vanity.

Sebastian's free hand snakes around to rub tight circles on your clit, and you gasp at the added stimulation. You cry out and reach back to grab his exposed forearm, digging your nails into the skin in pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Sebastian commands, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Let me feel you come on my cock."

His words push you over the edge and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your inner walls clench around him, as your orgasm rockets throughout your entire body. Hot white clouds your vision as you delve into the euphoric feeling. Your nails dig into his arm so deeply, you’re sure you drew blood.

Sebastian stills behind you as he releases inside of you, grabbing your hips further into him as he comes. He fills you up completely as he thrusts shallowly to ride out his high. He deeply calls out your name, as if he’s claiming you as his.

You both try to catch your breath, still leaning against the cold vanity for a few seconds before you regain your senses. You try to stand up, but your legs feel unsteady, nearly giving way beneath you. Thankfully, Sebastian notices and keeps his arm snaked around you.

He pulls out slowly and steps away to grab a few paper towels to clean the mess between your legs. You blush at the intimate gesture as he leans down to soak up the cum dripping down your thighs.

“Thank you.” you whisper and push yourself up from the counter to grab your blouse. You both redress in a comfortable silence.

As Sebastian buckles his belt back on, you catch him staring at you, a teasing smile on his face as he watches you put your blouse back on.

“What?” You search his eyes, confusion written on your face.

“I just realised that we’re both now part of the mile high club.” He throws his head back in laughter. “I feel like we should high five or something.”

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds before bursting out in laughter. The laughter subsides after a while, leaving you both gazing at each other. A small smile rests on his lips as he takes in your features.

Your hair is slightly disheveled, likely from him pulling on it. Your lipstick is completely gone, and your makeup is slightly smudged. There's an aura around you, almost a soft glow that Sebastian can't seem to look away from.

“God you’re so pretty.” he breathes out, arms crossed together as he leans against the bathroom wall.

Your eyes widen at the abrupt compliment as you drift your eyes away from him in embarrassment. You think you look like a complete mess, yet he’s staring at you like you’re the most beautiful sight on Earth.

The tight space of the restroom seems to shrink around you, the reality of your situation settling in. You search his eyes, a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability evident in your own.

”Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sebastian automatically reads your face, and moves closer to stand in front of you, his hand moving up to rest on your cheek. His thumb gently grazes the soft skin, watching you with concern.

"I... I don’t know about this," you murmur, struggling to articulate the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. "We work together, Sebastian. This could make everything even more complicated."

His shakes his head, expression serious but reassuring. He reaches out to gently grab your face with his hands. “I get it. It’s complicated. But I do know that whatever this is between us, it’s real. We can figure out how to handle it, together.”

You nod slowly, feeling a mixture of relief and acceptance wash over you. “Okay. I guess...I guess we can try.”

A small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of Sebastian’s lips. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We’ve got this.”

As you both share a quiet, understanding smile, you feel a sense of calm settling over you. “Yeah, one step at a time.”

After a few kisses, you and Sebastian exit the cramped bathroom, carefully stepping out one at a time to avoid drawing attention. You walk back to your seats, each of you subtly smoothing out your clothes and trying to look as casual as possible.

As you approach your respective seats, Millie, who has just woken up from her sleep, takes off her headphones and glances between you both.

“You guys left for a while. Did you clear the air?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

You and Sebastian lock eyes, a blush mirroring both of your faces as you mumble under your breath. “Yeah, something like that.”

hope you guys enjoyed it! all feedback is appreciated :)

[sitp-recs]

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned

Harry/Draco (2022, Mature, 6.6k)

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone. Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles.

Harry kisses him. And this is exactly what Draco wanted. The kind of kiss that couldn’t endure the finishing of a sentence. The kind of love that can’t wait. But Draco wants more than a kiss. He wants more than one moment. He wants more than Harry can give.

Just like Draco, I’ve been patiently but eagerly sitting on this draft ready to lose my shit with Wireless reveals, only to find out that Crow is to blame for my mental health the one who wrote my favourite fic of the year! God, how I loved this one (my friends can attest as I’ve made them all read it!). I’ve been so obsessed, have read it so many times already, that I just knew this had to be my first rec right after reveals. I’m being cautious to avoid spoilers here but to be clear this is not a mystery despite being mysterious, nor a case fic with high stakes, although one could argue it probably has the higher stakes of all. It’s not even what I’d call a traditional romance - more like a character study one? - but it certainly introduces the love of a lifetime.

From an emotional standpoint, I’ve always found time travel a rich and fascinating trope; there are so many fun possibilities but because most prioritize time loops with happy endings, we tend to forget that time travel can also lend itself to poignant angst and thought-provoking explorations of time, aging, ill-advised falling in love. Emerald reminded me of that triad in the most beautiful way, with its evocative writing and intriguing summary. It is a short tale with impeccable pacing and superb pining, written in a clever way that makes my heart ache for both Harry and Draco in their humanity, hopes and limitations. That’s probably my favourite thing about this fic, now I think about it: how we learn so much about one character through the other, and the ways the narrative makes them both human, flawed and sympathetic.

Anyone who’s enjoyed The Time Traveller’s Wife will be fascinated by Draco’s POV, as the perspective of those who wait. We witness his growing melancholy and changes of heart from wonder to bitterness to resigned acceptance, slowly coming to terms with falling in love with an Unspeakable who will be repeatedly taken away from him. It’s a grieving process for both Draco and the reader, to understand the ways we are helpless facing the designs of time. But in my opinion there’s also some comfort in how fate and free will get confronted - choosing to love someone in such circumstances is an act of courage and no one can take it away. Harry and Draco prove that by loving fiercely and inevitably, and the ways they’re pulled into each other, meeting time and again, unable to stay but unwilling to leave, knowing that no amount of time will ever be enough… ahhh 💔

Finally, I’m in love with the stars motif! Such a poetic and fitting take on Draco’s line of work, which of course connects his fascination with the unreachable to his longing for Harry. I love their conversation on this topic and the insights we get about Draco’s mind and heart in one of the rare moments he opens up. It’s so cleverly executed I almost went there with the banner, but I feel like the one I chose is more subtle and will hit those who’ve read this fic right in the feels! It’s also a nice way to intrigue and lure those who haven’t checked it yet ;)

This is a gorgeous read with a creative premise and the kind of complex and quiet devastation that always finds its way inside my heart. The idea of a solitary yet burning love that endures time travel mysteries and repeated heartbreak gave me every kind of emotion and made me revisit my favorite scenes every now and then just so I could relive that particular feeling once again. I’ve been thinking about this story for weeks and I know it will stay with me for a little longer. What are you waiting for?

Read on AO3

[merakiui]

hello!!<3 can i request an angst scenario (it can have a happy ending it's up to you!!) childe x fem!reader where they are together for some time and she didn't know he's fatui (she hates them bc her parents were in debt and overall they ruined her life and he's too scared to tell her) but she finds out and wants to broke up?? THANK YOU

In which you discover Childe’s ties to the Fatui.

cw: angst, debt, small mention of depression as a result of debt, female reader note - I woke up and chose pain with this one. >:) it also got long;;; oops!

You hate the Fatui. And although that’s such a strong, hurtful word it's your true feelings. You’ve never experienced their wrath firsthand, but you have witnessed what it can do to people. Your sweet, loving parents, who took loans out of the bank in order to pay for repairs to their shop, were reduced to frightful messes at the mere mention of that harrowing F-word.

It’s horrible to see them in such a state, especially since a few agents had come by once and practically demanded the money. As a result of such a distasteful discussion, you refuse to go into any sort of monetary career: trader, merchant, and even a wandering saleswoman. You’ll find a way to make things right by getting a job that will bring in lots of riches for your poor parents. Then the Fatui will have no choice but to leave your family alone.

Your own funds have dried up, having gone into another Fatui agent’s gloved hands. You can’t even argue because you have an inkling as to what will happen when you finally run out of money to give. Ever since this entire debt charade, your parents have become hollow shells of their former selves: paranoid, depressed, and starved of the happiness that comes with being in a regular, debt-free family.

Childe tunes into your rant as if someone had just turned on the switch that designates his listening skills. The two of you are sitting on a lovely hilltop, watching the stars twinkle in and out of focus. Liyue Harbor can be seen from afar, glittering in warm colors of gold and red. If Childe remembers correctly, another festival should be right around the corner. He’ll have to take you when he finds time to slink away from his work.

Speaking of his work, he’s never actually told you about it. When you asked, he simply said it was a job that allowed him to travel. It sounded like a traveling merchant to you—perhaps even a fishmonger specializing in exotic types—considering he was seemingly loaded with Mora. It made you jealous that he was so well-off with his finances, but you couldn’t complain when he so readily emptied his pockets for your sake.

“And then that stupid agent shows up at our door right when I get home! It’s the worst timing ever. My parents were pretending to be out of the house and I showed up and ruined their plan.” A heavy sigh tumbles from your lips as you flop back onto the grass, where Childe fixes you with a lopsided, sympathetic grin. “I hate it. They’re not even themselves anymore. It’s like they lost all sense of life. I’m picking up as many commissions as I can, but it doesn’t even help. The Fatui just take it all faster than I can save it.”

“They’re the worst, aren’t they?”

“And the sky isn’t blue. Of course they’re the worst!” You inhale softly. “No use getting mad about something that already happened, though.”

“You’ll just give yourself more stress and you don’t need that.” He joins you on the plush grass, turning his head to look at you rather than up at the inky night sky. “I can help with your commissions, you know. I’ve been itching to smash some hilichurl camps.”

“I can handle it myself. It’s fine.” Only it’s not and you’ve started realizing that. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Funny. I was going to ask you something, too!”

“Oh. Uh...”

He chuckles, staring at you with blue eyes that don’t sparkle. “There’s this festival coming up and I wanted to take you. It’ll be just the two of us for one night. You can forget all about work and money—”

“What about you? You said your job has you traveling all over the place. That’s why we’ll rarely see each other in the future. Once you’re done here in Liyue, that is.” You move onto your side, holding yourself up on your elbow. “I don’t think it’ll work.”

“Well, my boss doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our tiny secret!”

You roll your eyes, smiling a little. Deep inside you’ve always felt like something was off about his story. For the past few months, he’s remained in Liyue and once you even caught him slipping into Northland Bank when you were running some errands. You hope he isn’t in a similar situation concerning debt and poverty. No, he wouldn’t need to be. He’s shown you just how many lavish things his funds can afford. Why would he be in debt if he has a stable job?

“Are you...doing something bad?”

You could’ve phrased that better, but it’s already out in the open now. Sheepishly, you avoid his befuddled stare, opting to watch the moon as its light becomes obscured behind a dark cloud. An airy chuckle escapes him, but he doesn’t say anything. His silence confirms your fears and it dawns upon you that he hasn’t been truthful this entire time.

“This mask.” It’s in your hands before he can stop you. You’re tapping at it with a finger, equal parts curious and apprehensive. You refuse to beat around the bush; your doubtful gaze catches his and it hardens at once. “You’re Fatui, aren’t you?”

He sits up calmly, holding out his hand. “That’s quite the accusation, my dear. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“I’m not jumping to any conclusion. I’m right, aren’t I?” Now you’re sitting up, staggering to your feet to find some sort of leverage over him. He’s taller than you and far more powerful than he once let on. “Childe, why would—“

He sighs, lowering his hand out of defeat. “I suppose there’s no point avoiding it now. You were bound to find out one of these days.”

“One of these days? What? Like, when my family’s on the streets because the Fatui took our house?”

It hurts that he wasn’t honest and it hurts even more knowing that he has the power to help. He could’ve spent his time working out ways to get you out of debt, yet he decided to shower you in affection and useless trinkets! Trinkets that are only good for selling and receiving money to pay off the debt. You could cry; that’s how much it hurts. And when he makes no solid effort to comfort you, the tears begin to form.

“Of course not. I’d never let that happen!”

“Then why would you lie about it? Why not help me? Why can’t you just be honest? You always avoid questions you don’t want to answer and I hate it! I’ve been with you long enough to know that that mask is bad news. I was just waiting for you to confirm it, but you didn’t.”

You think it’s selfish for wanting his help—for wanting help from a Fatui agent, no less—but you’re too upset to care.

“(Name), you know that’s—“

“What else haven’t you told me? What else have you lied about? I don’t care if you’re trying to protect me. I’m already on a list. The Fatui still show up to my house and you just...let them. Why?”

“If I interfered, it would look bad in front of Her Majesty. You know I can’t go against her orders. I want to help you—I do. But...”

You’re fumbling for new words, at a complete loss with yourself. No matter how many questions you spout, he’ll evade them like they’re optional. And even if you want answers and honesty more than anything right now, you know he’ll fail to provide it. You shove the mask into his hands, shaking your head in disbelief. A swell of emotions overcome you: sadness, anger, and regret. You feel utterly betrayed. The sweet Childe, whom you once thought was your perfect match, is working for the Fatui—the people who have turned your life into misery.

And that’s probably not even the half of it.

“Let’s break up,” you say before he can spin another false tale. Another easy excuse to avoid this downfall. Childe stops short to stare at you in surprise and it’s weird to see that emotion scrawled across his face. He’s usually smooth and collected; he always knows what to say and how to act. Not this time, though. “It’s not going to work if we’re together while the Fatui are hounding my parents. And they wouldn’t approve of our relationship either.”

“Now, (Name), wait a moment. You’re not thinking straight. You’re just—” He struggles to find the correct words and in that small moment between foggy clarity and paralyzing uncertainty he plasters another plastic smile on. “Look. I know you’re upset, but I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was going to tell you eventually. Just had to find the right time to do it, you know?"

“I know. And that’s why we should go our separate ways.” Like Childe, you also put on a faux show, building up your walls as high and strong as his are. You don’t think you’ll last another minute in his presence, as you’re far too close to tears. “Thank you again for tonight. I’ll take my leave now.”

Rather than pain, it’s bitter when your lips fall upon his soft cheek. And the gesture stings harder than a slap on the wrist. 

The searing pain returns when you pull away and begin the descent from the hill as fast as your trembling legs will allow. You refuse to look back and fall into his arms in hopes that he’ll reassure you. The fact that he doesn’t chase after you—doesn’t even call out—stabs your conflicted heart and it’s more than enough confirmation. Childe isn’t exactly boyfriend material. He’s callous when it comes to a battle and he’s driven by his own ulterior motives. Surely this relationship was just a means of spending his extra time when he found himself bored and lacking a fight. Maybe he thought of his work when the two of you were on secretive dates. Maybe his heart was empty when the two of you were intimate. Maybe you were just the glue holding this crumbling bond together.

Childe remains on that hilltop, watching you disappear into the distance. And it’s then when realizes he’s lost you. The feeling is different from the battlefield and it’s far more real than when he’s snooping around as a Harbinger. You’re just a normal, good-natured citizen and he...ruined that part of you. With his ties to an enemy that has crushed your family. He’s partly, if not fully, responsible for what transpired just now and for the first time in a while real guilt gnaws at him. He’s left wondering why he did all of that—why he couldn’t just face your questions head-on.

It’s his fault, isn’t it?

On that windy hilltop, under the silent, disapproving darkness of the sky, he’s left to pick up the pieces of a fractured relationship. And it’s all because he couldn’t admit the truth to his precious girlfriend.

In a way, the Fatui have taken something from him, too, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to patch it up with honeyed promises. 

Looks like we won’t be going to that festival anytime soon...

[shadowsinger11]

John Wayne

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas lights and stunning dresses are enough to spark a desire for a winter romance. But could you have possibly gotten the wrong idea?

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: I might've listened too much to Cigarettes After Sex while writing and this is totally not a song inspired fic, born purely as a result of my procrastination with other projects

Tag list: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @loony-loopy-lupinn @whiz-bangs78 @slytherinsunrise @starlightweasley @ickle-ronniekins @gcdric @vivianweasley @aprilsrant @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @wonderful-writer @feetoffthetablee @minty-malfoy @vogueweasley @elf-punk @oh-for-merlins-sake @heart-of-tempered-steel @spilled-prose @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads @pastanest | message me to be added/removed! (if you're in bold, I couldn't tag you)

You were staring at the crowded dance floor.

Beautiful ladies were being spun around by their partners, gorgeous gowns twirling and swooshing with their every elegant move. Everything was perfect about them; from their smile which lit up the Great hall more than the sparkling white Christmas trees, to the way their wrist gracefully twisted around their lover's neck, eyes piercing into theirs. The music was playing, slow and melancholic, exactly as it had been playing for the last few hours, luring lovers and encouraging them to bare their souls in front of each other.

And so they danced, connected by fearful desire, united by hope and bonded by love.

It was a kind of magic no one could truly understand, mysterious and private as though you weren't meant to witness it that night. So when among the sea of couples lips met in a silent oath, your heart began to ache, pleading you to leave.

It should have been you. It should have been you the receiver of those loving glances, of those kisses which made your head dizzy and caused your knees to buckle, but it would've been no problem as you would've had the arms of your lover to keep you secure. Then, as you'd dare to look up through your lashes, gorgeous eyes would be already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. And you'd simply fall, letting the warm, velvety darkness envelope you.

You flinched from the slight chill, rethinking your choice of a sleeveless dress. The enthusiasm with which you had picked it months ago now seemed utterly ridiculous and foolish as you were sitting a good distance away from where you believed you'd have been dancing your heart out. But, as you took one last look at your surroundings, only to spot your lovestruck friends indulging in the presence of their partners, the comfort of your pajamas seemed far more tempting than the unreasonably expensive piece of fabric which didn't even matter to you anymore.

It was pitifully funny how things could change in the blink of an eye, in a single breath; how fast you had gone from blooming with excitement to wondering how you were foolish enough to contribute to your own heartbreak.

"How come I'm just finding out about this?" Fred exclaimed, chasing after you down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. "I bet I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for those Ravenclaws chatting back in class."

"You were gonna know eventually, what's the deal?"

"My point is, why didn't you tell me and I had to hear from someone else?"

A group Hufflepuffs gave you questioning looks as you practically ran past them, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, "You're making a fuss about nothing, stop acting entitled to every piece of information in my life!"

"McLaggen? That git?" Fred yelled in frustration and disbelief; he didn't at all acknowledge the small crowd which had gathered to observe the scene, nor did he care in the first place. He stopped in his tracks, gripping the wooden railing tight, knuckles turning white and jaw tense. "You cannot be serious."

Shocked faces now turned to you, and you desperately wished you could use reducio on yourself. Instead, opposite to what your consciousness was screaming at you, you dug your feet into the floor and shot Fred a stern look over your shoulder, "We're not discussing this right now. Besides, what's in it for you anyway? You're going with Angelina."

Had you kept walking, you would have missed the way Fred's chest was heaving with shallow, rapid breaths, and his face was more maroon than you had ever seen. And you? You couldn't quite breathe yourself.

A week ago your untamed happiness brightened every room and hallway; classes seemed to fly by, exams were over and the Yule ball was right around the corner. Your heart was ringing with joy as you were so looking forward to forgetting your troubles for just one night. 

In the midst of shining Christmas decorations and beautiful dresses a dreamy, yet pretty bold idea had begun to form in your head, an idea which Ginny and Hermione encouraged with their support and affirmations. Deep down you had started to believe Fred Weasley took an interest in you, harboured feelings for you even, and your ever-present goofy banter which contained far more flirting than what would be acceptable between two best friends, only fed your imagination and raised your hopes up.

You were aware you were the only one on the receiving end of Fred's teasing jokes, cheesy pickup lines and lingering stares which had you staying up an extra hour in your bed at night. Even his siblings shared the same opinion - there was no way on Godric's sword that a person who clearly wanted to be around you as often as possible and got his hands on you every chance he could, wouldn't be at least a little bit interested in you.

That's why you nearly broke down when exactly a week ago in the hallway Ron casually mentioned his older brother had just asked out Angelina.

The ground was pulled beneath your feet, vanishing along with your oblivious hopes. The news stung sharply, leaving a sour taste in your mouth; never had you believed you’d spend the few days before the ball stitching up your heart, and you were willing to do just about anything to forget about your humiliation. So when McLaggen invited you with an obnoxiously flirty note in Charms class, you didn’t hesitate much.

You could feel a wave of tears burning your eyes as you looked up to where Fred was standing. His face and ears were still as red as they could get, and his chest was vibrating with every shaky breath he took. Fury had disappeared from his eyes long ago, replaced with concern, regret and hurt which you couldn't quite place.

He climbed down the few remaining stairs.

"He's obnoxious! And beyond what's good for you!" Fred stated, though his voice now lacked power and slightly trembled, loud enough just for you to hear. "You're setting yourself up for a pretty bad night."

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and finally turned around to fully face him, looking him up and down.

"Seems like I have a terrible taste in men then."

A second glass of firewhiskey did nothing to burn down the growing turmoil in your stomach. You tapped the edge of the empty glass with your fingers and smiled at your friends who were visibly exhausted from dancing to upbeat songs for quite awhile now, but enjoying their time far too much to take a break. You admired their spirit - just because you weren't feeling your best, it didn't mean your friends didn't have the right to have fun.

However, the inevitable sense of regret lingered in your bones, and you found it hard to not focus on how the ball had gone wrong for you, in more ways than you had originally thought.

Even without Fred as your date, there was still a chance you'd have a good time. McLaggen could undoubtedly make it awkward to be around, and with the fact that your heart had recently been sliced open, you weren't sure how much of his ridiculous antics you could take. But at least he was trying; if you put aside his overbearing ego, you could see genuine effort into creating something romantic for both of you. It was going to be okay. Not necessarily what you desired, but somehow okay.

And that last bit of hope vanished the second you caught your former date snogging your crush's date in an empty classroom merely an hour ago.

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the universe's bitter joke, but the tears on your face as you ran down the hallway in your beautiful dress were eloquent.

A bitter, bitter joke.

You couldn't take it anymore. The charming smiles, sultry glances and stolen kisses you had been observing for the past hour were too much. And when another slow song made an appearance, you rose to your feet and headed towards the tall doors of the exit. Perhaps sleep would be a decent ending to your horrendous night.

You had barely made it out of the Great hall when loud footsteps echoed on your right.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking for you!" Fred said through heavy breaths, having run all the way to you as it seemed. His ginger hair had escaped its slicked look long ago, now too messy to fix despite his numerous attempts to smooth it back. His suit was no better, slightly wrinkled and shirt open to the third button.

"Why have you?" you asked and folded your arms, feeling a bit chilly in the hallway.

"McLaggen. About him," Fred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for having to say it, but I just saw him-"

"I know."

Fred frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

It was your turn to let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down at your feet, "Yes. A while ago."

Fred's features softened.

"I'm sorry."

You barely found it in you to respond with a weak smile, "It's alright. I guess I was right. I do have a terrible taste in men." Then you gave Fred a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry for Angelina too, it's horrible she did this to you."

Your friend allowed the ghost of a smirk to appear on his lips and he shoved hands into his pockets, "I'm not really affected by it in all honesty," he shrugged. "I'm rather angry about the fact that the prat thought he could pull off something like this and get away with it."

Fred's heart ached at the sight of your slumped figure and glossy eyes; he hated himself for having contributed to the failure of the event you were expecting with so much hope. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to meet your gaze.

"I'd gladly prank the crap outta the git until he doesn't even dare to show up to classes… But for now is there a way for me to make your night any less terrible, love?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the thought of McLaggen skipping classes out of sheer fear of Fred. But then your thoughts wandered to the way Angelina was practically straddling his lap, and you wondered if Fred had been doing the same all this time unbeknownst to you; if right after a flirty joke sent your way he'd go to an empty classroom and kiss Angelina with the passion you had just witnessed.

The image of Angelina's lips on Fred's caused you to become nauseous and you attempted to swallow down that lump again.

"No," you replied. "But please, tell me one thing. What was that entire tantrum for?"

Fred didn't really seem taken aback by your question, realizing you'd eventually bring it up. He furrowed a brow, carefully thinking of an answer, and wettened his lips.

“Perhaps it would be inappropriate of me to say it- selfish even, but the mere thought of you being in the embrace of someone, especially with that someone being a foul git, caused me to get unreasonably angry.” Guilt was seeping into his every word and he bitterly chuckled to himself. “Ironic, isn’t it? Attempting to spare you heartbreak by being the reason for it.”

He gently took your hand and looked into your eyes, remorse swimming in his own, "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm terribly sorry for being controlling and you absolutely do not have to forgive me. Just know that I truly regret my actions; I never intended to hurt you."

His words were a feather-light caress to your wounded heart and you shuddered. You couldn't stay mad at him. Reciprocated feelings or not, he was still your best friend and you wouldn't let that go.

"Apology accepted," you gave his hand a light squeeze and Fred beamed, the entire hallway lighting up with him. Dread released your chest of its merciless grasp and you could finally breathe. However, one question never ceased to haunt you. "But I just need to know…” you began, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “...why were you so upset to begin with?"

Fred's shoulders immediately stiffened and he averted his gaze from you in an attempt to come up with a reasonable reply. His jaw was clenched, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want you to go with him." He stated simply. "Not when you could've easily gone with me instead."

You froze.

"What do you mean?” you asked timidly, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What about Angelina?"

Fred only shook his head, fighting back a grin.

"Darling, Angelina was never the catch."

The air was knocked out of your lungs.

You could only stare at Fred wide-eyed, and though his expression was unreadable, maroon had begun to crawl its way up to his ears and cheeks again.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this," Fred spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, a kiss that awakened the butterflies within you. "I was really too much of a wuss to confess to you and settled for this instead."

"I guess that makes us two," you smiled sincerely, perhaps for the first time that night. Fred returned your smile with a grin, and asked.

"How can I make up to you for this oh-so-awful mess?"

"Dance with me," you said without skipping a beat. "That's what you owe me at least. Let's finally do what we both wanted."

Fred's expression became serious as he intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you into the direction of the Great hall, from which music could still faintly be heard.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love."

Most people had already gone to bed, leaving just a few couples and you to drench in enchanted serenity. Fred's arms around you felt like home as you both swayed to the soft rhythm of the song, one of the many to follow, but his racing heartbeat under your palm caused your own pulse to speed up as well. 

You looked up at your lover through your lashes, gorgeous eyes already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. There was an odd, enigmatic allure that Fred possessed, and even after years of knowing this man, it only caused you to fall further into the velvety hell you didn't wish to escape from. 

And when his lips collided with yours, they tasted sweeter than the forbidden fruit.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[corysmiles]

IT'S HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRREEE!! The longest oneshot so far! XD Hope you like it

cw: general themes of hunger, blood, semi graphic description of violence. Be warned!

-----

Phil decided to visit early today, entering the cave and waving at Techno, who immediately recognized him. He moved closer and, while still hesitant, grabbed him and moved him at eye level. It was nice. A bit unnerving, but nice. Phil laughed and hugged two of techno’s fingers before he put him on the counter.

They spent most of the evening sharing stories and getting more comfortable with touch. They even made some progress, techno’s hand not shaking as much when he wrapped his fingers around Phil!

It would be an hour still before Wilbur and Tommy came. So Techno figured it was time to shrink to human size if he wanted to spend some time with them after dinner as a giant. He went and reached the shelf with the bottle. Phil simply whistled and looked around. He stopped and turned when he didn’t hear any drinking sound. Techno was frozen and he looked horrified.

“Are you alright, mate?”

“It’s empty.” Techno said.

“Oh. Well, looks like today is a stay-giant kind of day-”

“No.” Techno put the thing back. “How could I have missed it?? It’s not supposed to happen…” He swallowed and looked back at Phil, worry clear as day in his eyes.

They stared at each other, Phil trying to read the unspoken words of his friends, but nothing came. “What is it? You often stay at your real size during dinners, what’s up?”

“... I haven’t hunted in days.” He admitted after a couple more seconds of silence. “I don’t have any food for tonight.”

“Oh shoot.” Phil took a couple steps towards techno, reaching the end of the furniture. “That’s no good.”

“We’ll have to cancel the grouped dinner tonight.” The giant looked at his small friend. “I’m sorry, but I have to- I know we all usually look up to these gathering but I can’t- I”

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to panic, mate.” Phil tried to reassure. He only gained a loud whine from techno, that he could feel in his bones. (quite literally, the vibration almost made him shake.) “I’ll tell Wilbur and Tommy.”

Techno stared, unsure, before sighing and letting his arm fall. “Alright, go tell them.”

Phil pulled up his phone, sending a message to both his friends. As he pressed sent, he looked back at techno. He did say he used the potion for food, primarily, but surely he dealt with it before.

“Do you want to go now, or…?”

Techno shook his head. “No. Not right now. Plus you’re still here-”

“Oh that’s no problem” Phil waved off. “I can come hunt with you.”

At that, Techno made a…. cringed, sound? Embarrassed perhaps, Phil couldn’t quite name it, but he was definitely uncomfortable with the idea.

“I don’t… it’s quite… You don’t want to see it.” he put his hand on his face, covering his expression.

"It's alright, mate. You know I'm okay with you being a tall boy." He laughed

"No- I mean… I mean it, Phil. It's gross."

"Well then I'll stay here until you come back."

Techno lowered his hands to look at the human, almost annoyed. He groaned and hid his face once more before the sound became much louder, Phil stumbling a little. "There's no way you're giving up on this, is there?"

"Nope!" Phil said, jumping down and being caught by the giant in a panicked movement "Please learn to warn me when you do that, my heart can't take it" he laughed.

"Wilbur told me to do it like this. Says it's more fun."

"Of course he did."

They stayed in the abode a bit longer, watching the sun setting through the window. Techno at one point decided to try and play his violin again, trying to improve to play with Wilbur one day. And even though it was…. Improvable, to say the least, it wasn't terrible either.

Phil clapped at the end of each song, earning a small laugh from the giant every time. He even tried to dance to one. Fortunately, they were the only ones to witness the carnage that was Phil's stumbly move tied to Techno's cacophony. It ended in unstoppable laughter that shook Phil's entire body.

Phil paced around the table he was now on as the laughs died down. He toyed with what he assumed was a home-made pen, turning it around and moving it like it was a spear. He stopped dead in his tracks, shaken by a loud growl that resonated through the entire room.

He turned around and watched his friend put his hands on his stomach, face red, violin now on the floor.

Phil put on an amused smile. "I think now's a good time to go hunt."

"I-" Techno did not have time to object before another grumble was heard. He shut his eyes and opened them, surrender in his expression."Yeah. It- might be good."

He stood up and offered a hand to Phil. "The hunting area is quite far, though. You might wanna take the ride for this one."

The blond gladly hopped on the hand and Techno brought him next to his chest, fingers curling protectively around his friend who watched the road through the space between the fingers. And so he began to walk.

It was the first actual time he traveled with a giant like that. It was nice. And he was glad he took the offer when he realized how far from the abode it was.

The walk ended up being quite long, Techno's stomach growling a lot during it, seeming almost painful at times by the way his face twisted. And everytime, it felt like the giant wanted to just run away and hide from view.

"You don't have to be embarrassed because you're hungry, you know?"

"I- no, but it's- it's so loud and" another rumble cut him off "it's… a hungry giant is not a good sight. It's scary."

"I don't know about that." Phil replied "you're just Techno, who happens to need food. I don't see any problem with that." Techno snorted half in disbelief, at the naivety of his peer.

"You know my soft side too well. I should start to act scary around you more." Phil bursted out laughing at that.

"Yeah, I know you too well. You wouldn't hurt a fly even if you tried."

Techno hummed

"Except if one of us was in danger. I feel like that's the one scenario where you would go apeshit."

"Yeah. Yeah, probably."

The rest of the ride ended up in comfortable silence (apart from Techno's hunger manifesting in numerous loud gurgles). Techno took a breath of fresh air and looked at his friend. He finally lowered his hand and Phil hopped out, on the grass. He took the view around him. "So this is your hunting spot."

Techno nodded. "I'll need around 15-20 adult preys. Don't really care if it's a deer or a wolf or whatever. Once you're done, meet me here."

Phil nodded and took out his bow "alright. Be careful!" He waved goodbye and only heard his laugh as he dived deeper into the forest.

---

The hunt ended up being nearly two hours long. Phil was surprised by the amount of animals here. It made sense, though, since it was so far away from everything, and the only known hunter of the area only stepped by occasionally.

As he brought back the last body near the pile, he noted that it seemed quite little for his friend still. He frowned. Was his friend trying once again to limit himself, so that he doesn't scare Phil?

He visualised his friend, standing up, and then looked back at the pile.

Of course he was.

He groaned and pulled his hair "oh my god- I TOLD HIM IT WAS FINE- JESUS! What kind of tool do I need to use to hammer the idea down his head right?!?" He sighed. It's not like Techno had a small appetite. Everytime they gathered around, he was the one with the fullest plate. But he always was so much shiftier when at his real size. Even though Phil couldn't blame him, it pissed him off.

And so the hunt ended up being longer than anticipated. But he ended up gathering a pile he judged big enough for his friend. And so he headed back.

As he approached the meeting place, he called out "Techno? You ther-"

He stopped. Dead in his tracks. And watched his friend, sitting on the ground, rigid as a statue, hands placed on the ground, holding something he realized were different cows and sheeps and deer.

"What is he doing?" He murmured to himself, not taking a step closer. There was a few more minutes of silence, during which more creatures climbed on his hand, before the large body shifted.

Phil flinched at the sudden movement. The hand raised higher and higher, too quick to let the animals jump down before his mouth opened, jaw wide, and-

Crack.

In a single motion, all the bodies in his hands were chopped down, their other halves between the giant's teeth.

Phil's body was frozen, and he witnessed wide eyes, as Techno dived in and took the rest of his meal sitting in his hand. It was… animalistic, to say the least. After scratching for every little crumb, he lowered his hands, allowing his bloody jaw to be visible.

It was understandable he didn't want his friends to witness that, he realized.

But Phil blinked out of his trance and stepped in like nothing happened.

"Hey, mate." Techno flinched and snapped his head toward the human, who laughed. "Sorry, should've warned."

"It's... it's alright, Phil." Techno said, licking the blood off his face, trying to hide the previous instance. "Uhm, have you been here for a while?"

"Nah" Phil lied "I just came back."

"Good! Good." He stood up slowly "Can you bring me to the ones you hunted down?"

Phil nodded and turned back, getting to said spot. It was almost comical to see Techno taking a small step everytime Phil made ten long ones, but they arrived quickly.

Techno sat down and his eyes widened when he looked at the pile.

"... that's more than 20." He pointed out. The pile was 3 times Phil's size. There were at least double the amount.

“Yeah.” Phil admitted. “You seemed rather hungry so I thought you might have needed more.”

“I mean, you were not the only one hunting,” Techno laughed. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Phil smiled, but it died down a little when Techno shifted, apprehensive. He turned to the blond, a nervous look on his face.

“Mh… Can you- perhaps…. uh… Turn around, maybe?”

Phil gave him a sympathetic smile, before closing his eyes and turning around, sitting legs crossed.

He could only hear the giant, but by the sounds of it, the poor boy was actually famished. He stuffed as much food as he could and chewed fast, and the heavy swallowing sounds made him twitch. Bones were crushed and flesh was torn apart like his life depended on it. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. He did see what it was like earlier after all, but he couldn’t help the silent temptation to turn around and look at the giant in such an intricate, taboo moment.

But Techno trusted him to not do it. Trusted him in this vulnerable moment. One he felt shameful and embarrassed about, and only time could ease this silent pain inside the giant. So, with quite the self control, he kept his eyes shut.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the frantic sounds came to a stop. He furrowed his brows. Still nothing.

Suddenly, he felt a pressure on his head, ruffling his hair. A surprised sound escaped his lips and he laughed as he tentatively opened an eye.

“You good, mate?”

“Yeah” Techno said. “It’s good now.”

Phil turned around and took a small step back when he realized the giant was closer than he thought, hands making a barrier around him, which would be cute if it wasn’t for the crimson red tainting them up until above his wrists. And his face was also covered with blood. He had an almost panicked look as he moved his hands closer. He was panting.

“Hey.” Techno said and gulped, his hands even shaking slightly. Phil could read his thoughts clear as day.

‘Is he scared?’ ‘My hands are so bloody’ ‘Is he gonna run away?’ ‘I probably look like a mess-’ ‘He asked for it, but is he still okay with it?’

‘Is he still okay with me acting like myself?’

Techno was scared. So scared that showing more of him would push him away… But Phil knew better.

And so, to this new side techno showed him, Phil said.

“Hello, mate.”

----

They ended up going back not too long after that, Phil sitting on Techno’s shoulder to avoid the disturbing smell his hands bore. On the way back, Techno let it slip that he hadn’t eaten at all the whole day, hence his need to hunt. Phil scolded him for a good part of the ride about that. But eventually, it ended with smiles and laughs (and a promise to be more careful about techno’s diet. “Well, it’s been in shambles for quite a while” “You are not helping your case here, mate.”)

They entered techno’s abode and next thing Phil knew, he was grabbed gently and placed on the counter. He blinked and saw his friend grabbing a towel and a water bucket.

He chuckled, watching his friends wash away the blood he almost forgot about.

Once clean, techno sighed and turned to Phil. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

He laughed. “I mean, it’s the middle of the night. Kind of late for me to go back. Mind if I sleep here for the night?”

They stared at each other for a while before techno hummed and opened his palm in front of Phil, who hopped into it easily.

He was grabbed and held onto a bit of a squeeze, not sure why until he felt techno falling straight on his bed, not controlling the arm holding phil that much. He screamed at the sudden sensation of falling, but noticed he was fine once the movement stopped. He sighed. “You could warn me about that next time.”

a rumbly “mmhhsorry” was the only answer he got. He laughed as he watched the exhaustion hit his friend. The grip lessened and, slowly, he allowed himself to relax, the heartbeat and deep breathing of the giant soothing him into a good night of sleep.

No, techno was not always soft. Technoblade was not a man of manners. Technoblade could be harsh. He could be intimidating, violent and raw…

Technoblade was kind as much as he could be cruel. Philza was aware of that reality more than anyone else.

And he would not have it any other way.

You’ve done it again, please send love to @melissa-s23 for this awesome fic 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Cant wait for more of the potion au :]

[d0llpie]

Lavender

Yachi x reader, Tanaka x reader

Prompt: “tell me you love me” 

a/n: thank you for everyone for giving me ideas in my asks, i hope you enjoy ! ! i don’t know how to title things

wc: 1.7k

part 1

After you left, Yachi offered you to stay at her place until you figured out what you were going to do. She went back the next day and talked with Tanaka, grabbing your clothes and toiletries until she could get the rest. Once you settled into Yachis spare room you broke down into tears. Sobs racked your body as you curled up into the blankets, the soft linen was cold against your body, the pillows firm and untouched. You inhaled deeply into the pillow case, smelling fresh fabric softener and lavender, reminding you of the pink hoodie you wore-Yachis hoodie. You brought the collar up to your nose and breathed in, smelling her perfume, lavender, fabric softener and her. Eventually your cries died down and you fell asleep.

Yachi returned with some food, calling out to you “y/n?” she reached the spare room door and knocked lightly, awaiting a response that didn’t come. She opened the door and softly approached the bed, careful not to wake you. She saw your tear-stained cheeks and slid under the covers behind you, wrapping an arm around your middle, brushing your hair out of your face.

You woke up at around 9, stirring awake to see the sun had long set, you tried to move but felt a pressure on you, looking down to see Yachi draped half over your body, curled against your side. You lightly shook her shoulder “Yachi, hey, what time is it?” she sat up slowly “uh 9 i think, i got dinner earlier...are you feeling okay?” she started to get up and stood in front of the bed “uh, i’m kinda sore” you placed a hand over your stomach, a sharp lang in your chest when you recalled losing the life inside of you, a life you created with someone who never loved you the same way you loved them. Your chest grew tight and you felt your eyes well up with tears, stinging at how they were already puffy. “Oh, of course, wait right here” the blonde gave you a sympathetic, pitiful smile before scrambling out of the room. She returned a few minutes later with some medicine and two bowls of pasta, “Here take these, there’s some water on the side table, i bought pasta since i know this is your favourite..” you smiled tearily before wrapped your arms around her neck, catching her off guard as she half fell onto the bed. You inhaled deeply as you nuzzled into the crook of her neck, calming yourself with the familiar lavender scent as she rubbed soothing circles on your back. “C’mon, you need to eat” she ran her fingers through your hair and handed you a bowl, you smiled at her again “thank you yachi- so much”. she placed a hand over yours resting on your knee, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles softly. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” you nodded, not wanting to be alone wrapped up in cold sheets.

After dinner Yachi ran you a bubble bath and sat behind you, brushing your hair. You were crying again but she was sympathetic, understanding how intense the last few days must have been for you. She hummed as she ran the brush through your hair softly. Once she had gotten all the knots out she began to part it, preparing to braid it. You sighed out as a few stray tears rolled down your cheeks again, relaxing into the water and leaning into Yachis hands. “Your hair is so pretty y/n, remember when i used to braid it during lunchtime?” she laughed softly at the memory and you closed your eyes “yeah, you’re really amazing at braiding Hitoka” you hummed, relaxing further as she continued braiding your hair.

Once you both settled into bed you almost instantly fell asleep, getting lost in the feeling of the soft mattress below you, the smell of lavender invading your senses and feeling refreshed. You sighed softly, closing your eyes, subconsciously reaching out across the bed, your arm finding purchase across Yachi’s waist. “Goodnight y/n...” she whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Over the next few months Yachi helped you heal, both physically and mentally. You were back at work and felt comfortable and safe. You never fought with her, if you had arguments they were solved within one conversation, never leaving things to be dwelled upon in the future. You appreciated her patience so much, even more how she made you feel. It took you a while to come to terms with your feelings, not realizing the feelings you harbored were more than platonic. When you did, nothing changed, you were still just as comfortable and content around her as you’d always been. 

You woke up to the smell of coffee and went downstairs to find Yachi in one of your oversized tee-shirts by the stove. You looked down at your own attire, a pair of cotton shorts and a large hoodie of hers. You walked over, hugging her from behind, burying your face in the back of her neck and breathing in. She smelled like-was, your home. Yachi was an open book, never wanting to or being able to hide how she really felt. You knew she felt the same, you could tell by the way she braided your hair each night, the way she knew exactly what you needed to hear, the way she always looked at you a little too intensely for a friend, the way she fit perfectly against you at night, she loved you and you loved her. “Good morning Yachi” you felt her giggle softly, smiling “good morning, i think we’re out of eggs.” your mornings had become so domestic it’d look like you were dating to anyone who witnessed the way you acted around each other. However, you enjoyed the tranquility of being alone with her, your own little world. “I can go get some now, want to come for a drive?” she nodded, humming before pouring you a cup of coffee, “let me go get some pants on” she began walking to her bedroom, “okay, i love you.” it slipped out and you both froze, there was no awkward tension as your statement sat in the air, instead, it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, both of you. “I love you too...” she turned back and ran into your arms, you smiled into her hair, moving her back to cup her cheeks. You looked into her eyes, they were filled with nothing but adoration. You leant in slowly, pressing your lips together softly, her lips were soft as she melted against you. Breaking apart you smiled at each other, “lets go get those eggs hmm?” you rested your hands on her waist and she nodded. 

Walking through the aisles you felt like someone was watching you, you turned around to see Tanaka staring at you. Your eyes widened and you cleared your throat “Um, hey Tanaka...” he breathed out heavily coming towards you and wrapping you tightly in a hug. You patted his shoulder and chuckled slightly “Um” he squeezed you tighter and you patted his shoulder again, trying to get him to release his hold on you. “Oh, shit, sorry..” he put you down gently and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly “You look beautiful, i mean, you always were but you look amazing and, um, i miss-” “Hey baby, you got everything?” Yachi came up behind you and intertwined her fingers with yours, “baby?” Tanaka’s face dropped and he could feel his heart breaking all over again. He looked a mess, he felt like one too, letting you leave was one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made. “Oh right, Yachi is my girlfriend” you squeezed her hand and smiled down at her as Tanaka watched with tears in his eyes “you don’t love me anymore?...” you stared at him and felt pity for him. You had long lost feelings for him, occasionally you would still cry, mostly over losing your baby, but you’d ran out of tears for Tanaka. “I’m sorry Tanaka, i love Yachi now, you need to respect that.” he wasn’t used to seeing you look at him that way, with no emotion behind your eyes. He watched as you, instead, looked at Yachi with love in your eyes, the same way you used to look at him. A few tears rolled down his cheeks as the weight of losing you kicked in again, he realized the finality of your love for him. “Tell me you love me, please...” he was quiet but you both heard him, you wrapped an arm around Yachi, “We’re going to go now, i wish you the best Tanaka.” you moved past him as he watched your figure in the distance. “I had the best...” he whispered lowly, wiping his tears. 

Once you returned home, you changed the sheets in the spare room, moving the last of your items into Yachi and your’s now shared bedroom. “Are you alright?” Yachi asked, rubbing your back softly, you turned to smile at her “I am, more than alright, i love you” she hugged you, resting her head against your chest to listen to your heartbeat. You hummed contently, feeling surrounded by warmth, the scent of lavender and Yachi’s gentle hold. 

When Tanaka arrived back home, he texted Noya and Kiyoko about the encounter he had with you. They offered their support, knowing how guilty he felt since it was his fault after all. Maybe in another life he will have you to himself, will cherish you the way you deserve to be cherished, he won’t let you go and he’ll appreciate you the way you appreciated and loved him. For now, in this life, you finally had that, only it wasn’t with him. He cried softly in the loungeroom, looking over at the framed picture of you both during your first anniversary. You hair was blown across you slightly due to the wind and you had the biggest smile on your face, looking up at Tanaka. He walked over and held the photo in his hand, breathing in shakily before placing it face down on the table. Moving on was harder than he thought it would be. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags

@stingykei @aoi-turtle @em0racc00n

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Ten)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff (finally lmao), more mentions of depression n stuff, hansol’s super sweet but we been knew

Word count: 1,583

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english. BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY: i’m minimizing updates. i have online stuff i gotta do for work, and between trying to do that while also trying to write parts for josh (since he’s next and i don’t have any pre-written parts like with the other parts), AND trying to go through the entirety of the series to take notes on things that i think are important, i definitely feel like i need to slow updating so i can try to catch up with josh’s parts so i’ll be able to post somewhat consistently when his series starts. so i’ll be updating once a week now, probably on mondays. i’m sorry i can’t post every single day anymore but this will definitely help me spread out everything i need to get done so i’m not trying to do everything at once in one night. 

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

Hansol was surprised to wake up to a warmth beside him. He rubbed his eyes and turned his head, seeing a lump curled up under the blanket. Your face was concealed by the bedding, your entire body engulfed in the fabric that was still charred in some spots.

Smiling to himself, Hansol smoothly got out of bed, careful as to not wake you. While the movement of the bed did have you rolling over, you went right back to sleep. So he opened the door silently and wandered down the stairs to grab some breakfast for you. He wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk at all despite everything that happened last night – rather, especially after everything that happened – but he still had to make sure you ate something. He didn’t know when you last ate, and he assumed the lack of hunger was due to your depression.

“Morning,” Seungcheol nodded as Hansol entered the kitchen.

“Morning, Cheol,” he yawned, stretching his arms high above his head.

Mingyu, who was sitting at the table, pointed over to the stove, “We left extras for _____.”

“How is she?” Danbi wondered from where she sat in her mate’s lap.

“She’s sleeping,” Hansol reported plainly, grabbing the remaining food from the stove for him and you – mostly for you, though, since you needed it more than him. “I’m sorry that you all got woken up last night.”

“Don’t apologize,” Seungcheol told him, “it’s nobody’s fault. Besides, the screaming was worse, even if Seungkwan did muffle it.”

Hansol’s brows furrowed, “What was Eunjin screaming for?”

“She claims Jiung was around,” Mingyu shrugged. “Maybe he visited her last night or something.”

“Does that mean she’s done treating you poorly?” Soonyoung quizzed, sipping his mug of tea.

“Give her a break, Soon, she’s depressed,” Seungcheol scolded, whacking the younger alpha in the arm.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean she can push everybody away and walk all over them,” Soonyoung pointed out. “I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just saying–”

“Her twin brother was murdered and she thought it was all because of her mate – who is now the only person she has a true connection to in this world – and after all of it, she was still expected to be an alpha,” Danbi listed off before Hansol could even open his mouth to explain. “After that, she found out that she didn’t even belong in her own pack anymore, therefore, could not be alpha. No, her being rude shouldn’t just be allowed because she had a hard time, but maybe you should also understand why she’s acting the way she is. However, I also don’t think she’ll care if you like her or not; it’s Hansol’s forgiveness that matters.”

Soonyoung stared at Danbi silently before nodding and staring at the table.

“Thanks,” Hansol said quietly, giving the older girl a small but grateful smile. “You are right, she shouldn’t have done a lot of the things she did. But…I personally forgive her, and I want to understand why she did it.”

“If there’s anything we can do to help, just let us know,” Seungcheol said with a small smile.

Hansol went back upstairs, carrying the plate of food in his hands. When he opened the door, he saw you were still fast asleep, just a ball under the blankets. He chuckled softly, setting the plate on the nightstand before he crouched down by the bed and gently shook the lump that was you.

“_____,” his voice was soft, gently pulling you from your slumber, “it’s time to wake up. I brought breakfast.”

But you weren’t hungry. You hadn’t been ever since that night, and you weren’t sure when you’d get your appetite back, so you just grunted at him and pulled the blankets tighter around you.

Hansol frowned, “You have to eat, _____. It’s not healthy to starve like this. I know you’ve been lying about eating when you’re in town.”

You weren’t sure how he knew – mate instincts, probably – but you were a bit grumpy that he called you out on it. Still, you stayed under the blankets as memories of the previous night filled your thoughts. Then your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and your eyes were filling with tears from both sadness, and the shame of Hansol witnessing everything. You sniffled, squeezing your eyes shut to hold in the tears, but Hansol was already aware of what was happening.

The blankets were pulled back from your face, the cooler air hitting your skin. You opened your glossy eyes to see Hansol looking at you sympathetically, his golden eyes full of concern and love. He wasn’t sure what would be okay with you or what you would find helpful – he didn’t want to touch you in any way and go past your boundaries.

“What can I do to comfort you?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know...” you admitted in a quiet whimper that made you even more embarrassed because it showed you were weak.

Slowly, his hand went to your hair as he gauged your reaction. His palm stroked over your tangled hair, but the gesture was a little soothing.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You just nodded, averting your eyes.

“Can I try something?” he wondered.

You shrugged, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the tears that still wanted to escape, mumbling, “I guess…”

Hansol pulled the blankets back a little more before he climbed into bed beside you. He sat up with his back against the headboard, wincing a little as he pressed against the wood. Then he pulled you in between his legs, letting you curl up into his chest like you had the previous night. His arms held you gently, and despite his power of ice, they were warm. One large hand continued to stroke your hair as your cheek laid against his chest.

“Is this okay?” he checked, glancing down at you.

Honestly, it felt nice being in his embrace. Obviously, you were still upset, but it actually felt a little better than being alone. Even though you were still uncomfortable showing emotion like this – even around your mate – you like the feeling of being this close to Hansol.

But still, part of you felt indifferent about it, so you moved out of his lap. He let you, keeping his arms rested by his sides while you shifted to sit beside him instead. Your arms were touching, giving you a little bit of that contact your instincts craved, but enough space for your head to be okay with it.

At the last second, your hands grabbed at his closest to you, and you fidgeted with his fingers.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he offered, quickly adding, “We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“I just miss him,” you mumbled, your voice breaking toward the end as more tears filled your eyes.

“I know. I wish I could do more for you.”

“‘S’okay…”

“It’s okay for things to not be okay,” he reminded you, tilting his head to look at you. “It’s okay for you to not be okay.”

“Can we not have this conversation?” you asked, a slightly annoyed tone to your voice.

“Of course,” he shrugged, grabbing the plate of food he brought him instead. “You still have to eat, though.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But you still have to eat.”

“I can’t.”

Hansol let out a sigh, “_____, I know it’s hard because of how you’re feeling, but you have to.”

“What are you eating for breakfast?” you asked with a raised brow, seeing only one plate and one set of utensils.

“Mates eat first,” he countered with a playful smirk, imitating you at lunch the day prior.

“But I’m also a werewolf, so you’re the mate to me,” you stated, folding your arms across your chest.

“But–”

“No. This is a two-way street.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, but scooped up some food on his fork before putting it in his mouth, staring at you as he chewed and swallowed. Then, he got a new forkful and held it up to your mouth, looking at you expectantly.

“I held up my end of the bargain,” he told you.

So, with a quiet groan, you opened your mouth and let him put food in it. His smile was triumphant, showing off his gummy grin that you found both annoying – considering the circumstances – and adorable.

You and Hansol ate quietly, alternating between bites – he’d feed himself and then feed you, continuing with that pattern. It wasn’t until he was scraping the plate with the side of the fork that he spoke again, bringing the last bite to your lips.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” he asked.

You shook your head, closing your mouth around the fork as he slipped the now empty utensil out of your mouth. You were still worrying about if Hansol actually forgave you or not. You felt more than guilty for treating him how you did, so you were trying your best to be closer with him even if it was a little weird for you. But hey, you were trying.

“Not yet,” you said after you had swallowed your food.

‘Yet’ was the keyword, and Hansol noticed that. You would talk about it when you were ready, just not right now. And Hansol was fine with that. He’d wait for you. He always did.

[amintyworld]

Sixteen - Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Based off of @tittybitch’s headcannon on why both Tommy and Tubbo were child soldiers, with the new info Wilbur dropped a while ago on Tubbo and Tommy’s ages when he wrote about them for the Dream SMP - twenty. What if Tommy and Tubbo lied about their ages to Wilbur in order to become soldiers in the First Independence War?

TW: Major Character Death, murder, lying/breaking laws, drug mention, child soldiers, cursing. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

When Tommy had fallen into the water, staining it crimson red with a large arrow in his chest, Tubbo had screamed, rushing over. The soldier fell to his knees as Tommy’s items simply began to float towards the surface.  Wilbur’s head bowed in respect at his right-hand man, his gaze lingering toward the floor a bit longer than normal. Tommy was a good man, he’d made his choice, this choice, in order to save their nation and he stood by it. That was something even the L’manburg General could admit was admirable. Dream walked up to him.

“So you will disband L’manburg, and Tommy’s discs will be given to me?”

“That was the deal.” Wilbur breathed, putting a comforting hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, who hadn’t moved from his place on the ground, just staring at the mass of items and bloody water. “Alright men, let’s head out with our dignity and honor.”

“No…” Tubbo whispered to himself, his hands gripping the floor as he shook with pure emotion. “No! You don’t get to just brush past this! Dream killed Tommy, he killed him- and… and you’re just gonna give up?!”

“Tubbo, this duel was not our decision or our plan, you know that.”

“Our decision?!” Tubbo snapped, sitting up and getting in the face of his commanding officer. “Our DECISION?! He was sixteen, Wilbur! Sixteen!”

Wilbur’s eyes focused solely on Tubbo’s as he began to calm down, beginning to process what exactly his soldier had said. Sixteen. Tommy Innit, his right-hand man, a fellow soldier who amounted more than his fair share of injuries thus far, someone who just died for their country in a duel… was sixteen years old. A teenager. A kid. Anger boiled within his chest and stomach. “What?”

Tubbo’s eyes tried to avoid the General’s increasingly intense stare. “Oh, you… uh… I’m sorry, Wilbur - I didn’t mean to just go off like that, you know sometimes I just say stuff that just comes off the top of my head, it’s… it’s uh… crazy-!”

“Tubbo, I’m going to ask this once and only once, so listen to me very closely…” Wilbur rested his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, using the other to tilt his chin up to look at him. Tubbo gulped as he could feel his heart drop looking at how angry Wilbur was becoming. “How old is Tommy Innit?”

Tommy swore Tubbo to secrecy, he made him promise to never, ever, ever tell a soul how old they really were, not even through torture or death. Tommy told him that they’d be ruined if they told anyone their real ages, never taken seriously, and constantly looked down upon. Dream already thought of them as less than him, being children… teenagers, would only make it worse. They were so much more than just teenagers, and they were both so determined to prove how capable they were, how much they could do.

But now Tommy was dead, he saw his best friend die before his eyes and it all became too real. There was so much more they both wanted to do...they were only sixteen, he was only sixteen. This stupid lie that Tommy convinced him was better to tell than the truth could end up costing them their lives. Though it was selfish and cowardly, Tubbo didn’t want to die, he didn’t want Tommy to die. Not yet. Not now.

“Soldier, answer me.”

Tubbo’s throat turned dry as he took a deep breath, the words ‘Not yet’ echoing in his head. “Sixteen.”

Wilbur kneeled down to be more level with the fellow soldier, moving to gently grab both of his arms, his face looking more sympathetic, pitiful. “Yeah? And… and what about you, soldier?”

“I’m sixteen years old, sir.”

Wilbur nodded to himself, still trying to wrap his head around this fact when Fundy piped up from the corner. “Dad, Tommy’s respawned.” Anger and sadness fought in a tangled mess in Wilbur’s stomach as he stood once more. 

“Right, men. Let’s go pay a visit to our fallen brother in arms. I have a feeling he’ll need it. Move out.” Fundy walked off quickly with Tubbo trailing behind him, his gaze focused on the ground, both of them silent. Dream and his posse were mostly gone already, not bothering to witness the fallout except for Sapnap and Eret. 

Eret’s crown weighed heavy on his head - he betrayed two teenagers, as well as a son and a father to earn this, to earn his crown and his place on the throne. They were kids, they were a family. “Look, Wilbur I-”

“Tommy’s dead, Eret. It’s over, you won. Congrats.” Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Eret intensely. “Look, no matter what happened today, no matter who won what - if I see you within five feet of Fundy, Tubbo, or Tommy, you’ll fucking regret it. I think they’ve suffered enough because of you.” 

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

When Tommy opened his eyes and the soreness and tiredness took over him, a feeling that he remembered vividly, all he wanted was to curl in on himself and cry. He was ashamed of himself, of that stupid stupid duel - now L’manburg would never get their freedom, and it was all his fault. All because he couldn’t land one arrow. Trying to distract himself from the guilt that weighed on his heart, he moved, wincing at the small pricks of pain spread throughout his body, and opened up the chest near his bed, grabbing some bandages and health potions to help heal him and numb some of the pain. 

With a heavy heart, he hesitated for a moment, taking off his L’manburg coat, knowing it would probably be the last time he’d do so. He ran his hands over the stitching to try and commit it all to memory, in some weird effort to not let L’manburg die. He fought so hard to protect it, yet he killed it with his own hands. He let out a defeated sigh, piling the coat and his hat on top of his chest, moving to take care of the nasty scarring around his chest where Dream had shot him.

He didn’t expect anyone to visit him, let alone Wilbur. The General entered with his hands behind his back, deep in thought, thinking behind his eyes. Tubbo rushed over, nearly crashing into him. “Tommy!”

“Woah, Woah, Woah big man.” Tommy smiled at the sight of his friend, wrapping an arm around him a bit of an embrace. “Thanks for the worry, but I’m still sore-”

“Oh, right, right - sorry.” Tubbo sheepishly added, pulling away from the tight hug he had around his best friend’s middle, moving to sit beside him. 

“I...uhm… didn’t expect all of you to be here.”

Fundy walked over, a cloth and a gleaming bottle in his hand. “Here, I just brewed from regen if you need it, it’ll be a lot better than those health pots. A hit like that’ll need lots of healing, that’s for sure.” Tommy’s eyes furrowed at the weird sadness Fundy’s face held, how he seemed like he was forcing a smile. It was weird to see someone act tense around him, and Wilbur’s silence definitely was NOT helping.

“Uh… thanks, Fundy.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright - With your injuries, we weren’t sure you were going to respawn.”

Tommy smirked, moving to take the potion and cloth from the fox hybrid, popping the cork off. “Please, nothing that green bastard could do could ever keep me down.” He took a sip of the potion, the dull and numb sensation traveling throughout his body and slowly melting away any lingering pricks of pain. Laughter echoed from both Tubbo and Fundy, enjoying the slight sense of normalcy. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur walked toward the three who sat around or on the bed, his eyes flicking back and forth, looking like he wanted to say something but he didn’t know what to say.

“Sir?” Tommy looked up at the General, sitting up straight almost on instinct at this point. Tommy had never seen Wilbur like this in his entire life, never seen his General this conflicted, this unsure of something. “...Wilbur?”

“I…” Wilbur swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “I know, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “I know what you and Tubbo hid from me, I know you’re not twenty.” Tommy’s eyes flicked over toward Tubbo, who wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“You don’t know shit.” Tommy spat. 

“Tommy, I told him.” Tubbo spilled out, clinging on to his best friend’s arm like it was a lifeline.

“Tubbo you promised, you looked me in the eyes and you promised me, you swore to me, not even with death-!”

“I thought...I don’t want you to die, Tommy!” Tubbo finally looked up toward his friend, and Tommy finally saw the distress in his eyes. “You have one life left. ONE. You’re my best friend, I…” Tubbo could see the hurt in Tommy’s eyes, and his gaze fell back on the bedsheets in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy took a deep breath, looking at his best friend, then turned toward Wilbur. “So, I guess all those ‘child’ jokes were true, innit?” He glared at the other two in the room. “Come on, out with it then. Tell me how reckless and immature I am. Tell me I never took any of this seriously, how I doomed and destroyed everything because I’m just a ‘stupid child’.” Tommy’s hands gripped into fists, getting up from the bed, angry at the silence. “Come on, just DO IT ALREADY!”

“You’re not a stupid child, Tommy.”

“Don’t you dare fucking pity me-”

“Pity you?! PITY YOU?!” Wilbur exclaimed. “Do you honestly think I would do that? Do you think after everything you’ve done, I pity you?”

“What?”

“Tommy, you’ve dedicated yourself to L’manburg, you put your life on the line for it and were willing to risk your discs for its freedom. That’s earned my respect, however old you are.” Wilbur looked between Tommy and Tubbo. “I wish you would’ve told me, I could’ve been able to protect you from all of this. You wouldn’t have had to fight this war, it’s not yours to fight. Not yet.”

“You know without me or Tubbo you wouldn’t have fared as well with Dream’s army. You needed help, we wanted to fight.” Tommy’s voice was no longer angry but tired. “I don’t regret it, Wilbur.”

“But you’re… you’re both kids, you’re...fuck, what have I done?!” Wilbur cursed under his breath. 

“What you had to.” Tubbo’s voice was soft in its reply. Silence passed through the room as Wilbur moved toward both of the teens, shaking his head.

“No, no no no, there was another way, you shouldn’t have- you both should have never had to go through any of this, never been on the battlefield or running for your life. You shouldn’t have had to make those calls, you should’ve just enjoyed being kids instead of getting dragged into my mess...my war. I put you through that - if it wasn’t torture enough to put my own son in that position…”

“If you know me at all, Wil, you know I wouldn’t just sit by and watch. L’manburg… this place… it’s so much more than just a place. You and I started our first drug trades here, you made me feel important, you made me feel a part of something, instead of some kind of prick that everyone just wants to go away. You’ve all had my back, you’re all my friends… this is my home.”

Tubbo sat up to stand beside Tommy with a small hopeful smile. “Our home.”

“Our home.” Tommy echoed. “We needed… no, we wanted to protect it, no matter what. So I don’t regret this at all, Wilbur. Even if we lost. I don’t regret a damn thing.” 

At that moment, no truer words had ever been spoken.

[ncitygirls]

matryoshka - part 1, 4k

sibling!johnny, taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, platonic/‘sibling’!haechan

nct crime au, angst, cw: character death, death, mental illness, police, injury, violence

300 days

There are few people who can disarm a man like Johnny Seo. Since the rather untimely, and inexplicable death of his mother and father at the tender age of fourteen, he quickly adopted this persona. He considers it a token from his late mother. She had always said, in a voice as soft as the breeze in spring, that to be polite is to be in control. He holds himself to that quite forcibly, reminding himself time and time again that there is power in making others fold to him. At time it is as simple as approaching an adversary with a smile, and awaiting the flare in their skin, the bugle in their veins and the ripple in their muscles. There are few who can disarm Johnny Seo. But few does not equate to none.

“When will you discharge her?” Johnny began, the words rolling off of his tongue with an air of nonchalance that bordered on flippancy, but an edge that was new to even him.

“Mr Seo,” without thinking, Johnny rolls his neck, bracing himself for a response he knows he will refuse. He thinks it odd to loathe an act he is yet to commit, especially when he can still prevent it. What he hates more however, is that you are here to witness it. When the doctor sighs, letting his glasses hang around his neck, he smiles sympathetically. Johnny sees nothing but pity. “I’m not sure how else to say this, but physically? Your sister is stable enough to go home. When we went in to remove what was left of the bullet fragments and saw to her ruptured spleen, we managed to mend her torn ligaments. Her blood work came back clear, and for the most part, her vitals are stable. With a few weeks of physio, I think we would be able to discharge her. Ideally, she could go home this week.”

“Wonderful,” Johnny’s hollow cheer guides his hasty movements as he, unthinking, strips you of your blanket to reveal a sight he thinks might change his mind. Rows of red line your skin, moons of dried blood covering the heels of your palms. He cringes at the dirty cotton cuffs that strap you to the metal frame of your hospital bed. Johnny can’t seem to make sense of the sight. “Did this happen during the shooting?”

“No, Mr Seo,” the doctor shakes his head, his frustration with his patient’s only living relative shedding every second he watches Johnny take in your limp frame. “It is like I was saying. Miss Seo is fit enough to leave. But mentally-”

Johnny simply raises his palm, ignoring the tears that pool in and out the corners of your eyes, a steady stream gathering in your hairline as you relive the events the two refer to so flippantly. “She will do better at home.” It is unclear for whom the assurance is intended. The doctor, you, himself. It is all just hope. So it doesn’t matter. “She will do better once she’s home.”

“Mr Seo, as your sister’s physician, I must implore you to reconsider.” Johnny understands where the doctor is coming from, he truly does. Johnny, taught well by his father, prides himself in being understanding. Like his father before him, Johnny prides himself in being calm in the face of not only danger, but regular folk - those who go about their lives, slaves to normalcy. Those who live life year to year, those who plan their lives, who wake up to sleep, expecting to see the sun once again. Those who consider life a right, rather than a privilege. Johnny has come to understand men like this. Not by choice of course, but because he had to. Especially once you met Taeyong.

2,109 days

“I met a guy today,” the words crackle through the phone, Johnny’s fingers stilling as he finally takes a break from his work, placing a mental bookmark on his train of thought. He wants to ask where, but he doesn’t enjoy seeming interested in affairs of the heart. They sicken him. “He was really weird,” you hum as you kick the curb, swinging your arms as you traipse through what Johnny thinks must be your university campus. He pretends he bother to know your schedule, but never has a reason for why he always gets himself up before you leave every morning. “A good weird,” you add, “his clothes hardly fit, they were all baggy. It’s hard to explain.”

“You kids and your trends,” he huffs, spinning in his chair to watch the city, eyes landing on the bell tower of your campus. “What happened to a nicely fitted suit?”

“It’s a college campus, John. Plus, it’s like half ten in the morning,” you can hear his next question before he even asks. “I mentioned his clothes because I wanted you to envision him, not judge him.”

“Well, I am envisioning a bum.”

“Okay, but envision a cute bum,” you try. “A beautiful, cute, funny bum.”

“That is still a bum, y/n.” You hear the faint sound of floor boards creaking, a telltale sign that he’s pacing. “Did he ask you out?” You hum in agreement, always too shy to admit anything so personal outright. It is times like this he wonders why you bother calling him and not just Haechan. He’ll never tell you this however. Lest he lose his spot as your first call. “I hope ope he’s taking you somewhere nice?”

“Yeah, of course,” he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s Hyuck’s you're both going to. Not that there as an issue with Hyuck’s. Even if you’ve already had the menu four different ways, front to back and then back again. It’s where you take all your first dates, you give Haechan a chance to size them up, figure out if they’re worthy. “I just wanted to tell you first because I think he’s a real contender this time.”

“And you’ll be late home, so you won’t be making dinner again?” Your affirming grunt forced a long sigh from Johnny. However, no matter many times he claimed his annoyance was due to your absence inconveniencing him; you both knew the loneliness bothered him now. “Well, have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you sing. “And I’ll bring that coffee cake you love so much, okay?” Johnny offers his own affirming grunt. Though it sits a couple octaves below your own, you hear the sliver of joy he lets through. “Love you.”

He doesn’t respond. He had already hung up.

300 days

“Mr Seo?”

Johnny had finally shrugged off his suit jacket and let his shoulders sag when he heard his name for the umpteenth time that day. He wanta to ignore it, but what would mother say?

“Yes?” SMPA. The badge is hard to read as it glistens under the glaring hospital lights. But he can’t miss the shape, the obnoxious insignia.

“Good evening,” the detective starts, his smiling eyes are in direct contrast to the gloom and doom of the last few days. Johnny wonders if smiling with teeth is proper practice when greeting someone who almost lost their little sister. “I am Detective Lee, I have a few questions for you about the shooting at Hyuck’s Diner. If you have a moment.”

“Of course,” he sighs, straightening his spine. “I am sure you are aware, but I wasn’t there.”

“I think it’s lucky you weren’t,” the detective adds, a sad smile settling on the bed to your right. “I am a friend of Donghyuck’s.”

“Oh,” there’s a short second where Johnny feels an odd sense of comfort, one he believed would only come when you finally opened your eyes. He also feels some guilt. “I didn’t know he had any other friends in Seoul, I tried to reach everyone I could.”

“And thank you for that,” the detective lets his eyes fall on his friend’s unmoving figure for a moment, his gaze returning to Johnny when he feels a familiar prick. “I have been hard at work on this case. I received word you did not wish for your sister to remain in hospital. May I ask why?”

“It is a public hospital,” Johnny responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can afford better.”

“Then why did you let her stay?” The detective asks, scribbling away. Johnny wonders what dictates the parameters of an investigation versus a friendly conversation. “Her psych eval?”

“No,” he sighs, eyeing Haechan to your right. “They wouldn’t let me take him too,” when the detective tilts his head, surprise evident in his round eyes, Johnny lets himself laugh for the first time in over a week. “You wouldn’t want to be me when she wakes up to find I left him behind.”

2,361 days

It is past midnight when you fly into Johnny’s bedroom, a dew gathering on your forehead, chin and neck. In his sleepy haze, he hears only the end of your ramblings, your steps ordered in a manner Johnny can only describe as frantic. It is not in his nature to panic, he leaves such trivialities to you. But when your wide eyes find his, fear brimming as you scramble to get ready, you throw him your phone and he finally sees why.

“There are a bunch of guys who won’t pay up at Hyuck’s and he’s scared. Let’s go.”

That’s how Johnny found himself parked outside Hyuck’s Diner in downtown Seoul, just north of the river. You didn’t give him a chance to park up as you dashed out the still moving vehicle, door left wide open. Johnny is thankful it’s late, but quickly notes it being far too late for Hyuck’s to still be open. As he parks up, he watches you storm into the near empty diner, sees the relief on Haechan’s tired face as you round the bar. Johnny can’t really make out what you’re saying, but he can see the fire in your eyes. He sniggers as he stalks after you, seeing his mother in them too.

“I said, pay up, or give it back.”

“That’s funny,” one of the burly men says, food spitting out his mouth and onto the clean bar top as he laughs in your face. While Johnny only counted two from outside, he can now see a third standing off to the side. When his eyes meet Johnny’s, he falters slightly, thick hands running through his hair as he avoids Johnny’s haunting figure hovering by the only exit. “Who exactly is gonna make us?”

“Me,” you grin, reaching for the back of his head and slamming it hard down onto the bar. You hear Haechan yelp in what you assume is fear for his newly polished, now dented bar top. As the guy to his left lunges at you, you’re quick to utilise your surroundings. Johnny almost applauds your ingenuity as you quickly reach for a used butter knife and practically mutilate the man’s fist. It is then Haechan disappears from your side, his head nearly halfway down the drain pipe as blood splurts onto his newly polished, now dented, now blood stained bar top. The first guy had rounded the bar, only to be met with a fist to the throat, and knee to the gut. Johnny sees you’re expecting something to happen as you repeat the motion before seeing sense. With your hand latched to his collar, you drag his doubled over body out onto the street before you knee him again.

In the middle of the intersection pours his unpaid bill, meeting one end of the deal. Johnny laughs at how visibly dissatisfies you are, considering how long their bill actually was. You fish his wallet out of his back pocket, taking a few hundreds to cover the balance. “Who even carries cash anymore?”

Johnny wonders too as you pass by him, walking back inside and turning on the third guy. “Your friend covered yours, so you’re free to go.” As he scrambles to leave, he keeps his eyes fixed on your brother, halting when Johnny moves to stop him, a lone finger pointing toward the man's weeping companion.

“Take them with you.”

It’s a few seconds before their presence is no more than a distant memory. Johnny is quick to clean the bloody bar top, and rearrange the furniture. He even loads the dishwasher as you tend to a still queasy Haechan. “When I text you, I didn’t think you would do all of that,” he huffs, backtracking as he notes the hurt look in your eyes. “I mean, I am so grateful. Really, I am,” he smirks, fatigue stealing the light that usually fills his eyes. “But I didn’t know you were The fucking Bride.” When you roll your eyes, he presses on, glimpses of his usual self slowly return as the adrenaline begins to kick in. “No, honestly! I wish I had cameras in here because- fuck! That was insane!”

“Alright, whatever. Get your things, you’re staying with us tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Haechan asks, the worry in his tone hurting you beyond belief. “Do you think I should call Mark again?”

“Who, the cop? No, they won’t be coming back, trust me,” you hum. When Johnny emerges from the back, drying his hands on a clean rag, you jest, “no thanks to angel eyes over there may I add.”

“Oh my god, hyung! And you!” Haechan restarts, allowing you to pack up his things while he recounts the terror in the third man’s gaze as he locked eyes with your brother. “It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, grabbing Haechan while Johnny locks up. “Or something.”

It’s nearly dawn when Haechan crashes. It was Monday and he needed to find cover for the open. But getting cover didn’t stop him fretting, and no amount of herbal tea nor booze could settle a frantic Haechan. It is laughable though, how it took no more than a film opening to send him off. You slip away at sunrise, snuggling up to Johnny who gave up on sending you away shortly after your parents passed. However, he still makes sure to express his disdain for the affection.

“At least stick to your side, y/n-”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you breathe, clearly uninterested in satisfying his request. “I know you have to be up soon, and I’m sorry. But having you there was- yeah. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, Johnny lets you snuggle with him. An hour later, for the first time ever, Johnny lets Haechan do the same. He fears that this might become a pattern, the two of you craving so much affection it might suffocate him. Johnny knows it just might, but has found peace in that. Much like he has found peace in your insistence that Haechan be one of you. Because he is one of you, he too left orphaned at a young age, you took him under your wing. So much like that day, as Johnny falls asleep to the sound of your light snores, he also decides-

300 days

“He’s family.”

“He speaks so highly of you both,” Mark adds, smiling thankfully at your sleeping frame. “But I’m sure he would forgive you for doing what’s best for her.”

“She wouldn’t.” Johnny adds, though a part of him knows he might have trouble forgiving himself.

“What is it you do for a living?” Mark asks, eyes quickly scanning Johnny’s crisp suit. “I can’t say I recall Hyuck ever mentioning it.”

“A bit of this and that,” he jokes, glancing towards you. “That’s what she calls it.” He hates the melancholic tone he has adopted. It is pitiful. “After our parents passed, I took over their pharmaceuticals company just after I turned twenty-one. We dabble in everything; medicine, cosmeceuticals, nutrition, you name it.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“I work from home,” Johnny knows he is being foolish, trying to falsely place an accusation in Mark’s assumption. Johnny knows he fell into the classic trope of throwing himself into his studies, and then his work, just to avoid the harsh reality that his parents were gone and they were never coming back. He would readily admit he abandoned you in the beginning to grieve on your own, to figure it all out on your own. He just wouldn’t take that from a stranger. “I tried to be around for her as much as I could.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Mark’s smile is kind, full of unfiltered sympathy. Johnny wonders if you have to practice such a thing, and if so, whether someone should have the doctors do the same. “I just wonder if you are wearing yourself thin is all.”

“You needn’t worry about such things Detective.” Johnny reminds, drawing the line between the two so simply, his eyes flicking slowly to Mark’s badge. “Worry about the case.”

“Of course,” Mark rushes, scrambling to defend his statement. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“And I you,” when the doctor enters to take both yours and Haechan’s vitals, he greets Mark warmly. Johnny feels no resentment to this warm reception, none whatsoever. But he can’t help but wonder what about him denies him the same warm greeting. He is quickly reminded of the first time he was to meet Taeyong.

1,977 days

“Your knees are shaking the counter, hyung,” Haechan sniggers. He knows he shouldn’t, he does. But he can’t help but bask in his friend’s nerves. How can the coldest man he knows be so scared to meet his sister’s boyfriend. As calm and collected as he behaves, Haechan is no stranger to worry, and it worries him to no end how the evening will go. From what he has heard from you, Taeyong is as nervous as one can be. And yet, your main concern lies in how your brother will react, and Haechan is an empathetic soul. He just knows he will feel it all. “Your vibe is really killing the mood, lighten up.”

“Shut up, kid.” Johnny warns, eyeing his watch every so often. “They’re late.”

Strike one.

“You know what y/n is like, she’s probably trying to talk him out of it.” Haechan notes how innocent Johnny looks with his head tilted, confusion bleeding into his features. “You are pretty scary hyung, maybe she thinks you’m scare him off.”

“Maybe he isn’t worthy then.”

Strike two.

“Or,” Haechan sings, adjusting his embroidered apron, Hyuck’s opening anniversary gift from the very man he is about to berate. “Maybe you’re not ready to watch your sister grow up, so you sabotage everything with your scary eyes and bad vibes,” Haechan shrugs with his chin in his palm, blinking sweetly at Johnny who resists the urge to flick his forehead.

“Don’t you have coffee to go pour?”

Haechan sniggers once more as he does just that, refilling Johnny’s coffee and shrugging. “Or maybe they’re stuck in traffic.”

So he can’t fly?

Strike three.

300 days

After a few hours, Mark returns for a detailed description of the three men he suspects may be involved in the shooting. Johnny says as much as he can recall, even going as far as to emphasise the detective’s lack of involvement. He suspects it is in direct retaliation to his earlier comment and ignores it, though Johnny quickly sees his own guilt reflected back in the detective’s guilt ridden eyes. “Will that be all?”

“Almost-” Mark starts, before glancing over at you. “I just,” he can’t seem to push past the lump in his throat. Johnny has given him everything he knows, that much is true. But after speaking with the doctor, Mark can’t help but wonder. “Why haven’t you tried speaking to her? Doctor Kim said she may respond well to a familiar voice.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Mark knows it’s a loaded statement. One dripping in regret, in guilt, and in shame. But Mark can’t afford for Johnny to be ashamed. Not with Haechan lying unconscious as you lie there, reliving that day over and over and over again. Mark needs you to wake up. But Mark also swore to never relinquish his compassion. All Mark knows of you is the stories he’s heard through Haechan. Though some have a rosier hue due to his familiarity with you, Mark is sure there is no exaggeration in your case. You are a good person. One who cares deeply, who loves deeply. Mark thinks those parts of you are the ones Johnny can tap into. He just won’t.

“Haechan was my first friend in Korea. When I moved here as a kid, my parents worked at the orphanage he was at. He made fun of my Korean for a year straight before I could finally understand and speak fluently enough to defend myself. But, I guess it was okay, you know? He was helping all the same. I was a scrawny kid, I used to get picked on a lot. He was always there. Even though he got beat up too. He’s in all my earliest- my best memories. growing up. He’s like my brother. If he was awake, I think I’d-”

“But he isn’t,” Johnny reminds, eyes locked on your sunken face. Johnny knows what Mark is doing, he knows the tactic very well. He is quite acquainted with guilt as a form of persuasion. “He’s not awake, detective. The doctor said he doesn’t know if he will ever wake up. You know, I overheard the doctors say they haven’t seen spinal fractures that severe in their fifty years of combined experience. They said if Haechan ever opens his eyes again it will be a miracle. If he walks again? This hospital would be internationally renowned. Those surgeons would be infamous. But they can’t. They can’t so it. They can’t do it because they don’t have the facilities for such an operation, and even if they did, Hyuck couldn’t afford it. Even if he could afford it, y/n would have to wake up and give them the okay, because this idiot made herself his guardian so he could practically sell his soul for the loan for that fucking diner.

“So, I’m sorry, detective. I’m sorry that the only thing standing between you ever seeing your friend again is my selfish sister.”

“Mr Seo-”

“But you must agree, she is selfish. She thinks she’s the only one hurting, the only one who has lost something, lost someone.” Mark only sees what Johnny is doing a few seconds too late. As Johnny raises a lone finger to his lips, his eyes catching on the stream pouring down your temples. Mark’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as your vital signs begin to whir, the machinery at your bedside coming to life as Johnny reminds you that, “people die every day. Our parents, Hyuck’s parents, and now Taeyong-”

“Don’t!” You scream suddenly, your body nearly thrashing off of the bed. Johnny fears the force with which you rise could snap your arms in two, but nothing is more worrisome than the bloody red rimming your crisp white eyes; the visible and painfully rapid rise and fall of your chest; the tremor in your chapped lips. “Don’t! Please! Please don’t say it-”

Johnny had never moved so fast. His hands clinging to your trembling frame as he stroked the back of your head. He chanted quickly in your ear, pleading with you to stay with him as he promises to stay. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t leave you. Never. I promise. Just please, stay with me, okay? I need you here, Hyuck- Hyuck needs you, okay? I need you to stay with me, we’re all we have. Please, y/n-”

Mark couldn’t help but feel intrusive. His earlier pushing began to feel filthy, unfair, unjust. But how could he know you were this far gone, this distraught. Nothing is more sickening than the soft, croaky ‘yes’ that spills from your lips. Your bloodshot eyes lingering on his frozen frame before you see Haechan. You tremble again, your body nearly convulsing as you recognise the boy beside you.

“Shh, he’ll be okay- I promise- we’ll get him help. I promise you- we’ll be okay.”

Johnny rarely spoke out of hope. He was a man who would cling so tightly to reality, you would sometimes joke that his knuckles would snap from the pressure. But as he holds you tightly in his arms, rocking your hollow frame back and forth, he realises he has nothing more than hope.

But since when has hope ever been enough?

[celestialices]

QUEST!

Greek Mythology x Haikyuu 

Haikyuu!Ensemble x Reader

Summary: You were just a perfectly normal student at The University of Tokyo, when suddenly a bunch of 'normal boys', as they call themselves, appeared in your life and started to squeeze themselves into your life. Always saying something like "You're a goddess, we need to take you back to Olympus" (you brushed it off, saying that it was just a silly compliment) and even absurd sentences such as "You got Medusa's eyes" and "You're really Medusa's daughter!"

You really want a peaceful school year, but the universe beg to differ.

007: UNANTICIPATED ENCOUNTERS

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Your family is like a heap of stones, remove one and the entire structure will crumble. Living with your sympathetic mother and doting brother is a dream come true. Along with your only known relatives, Kyoutani Household and Inouka Family, completes the household.  It’s small; however, there’s nothing else that could compete over this haven of yours.  Moreover, your mother’s friend coming in the picture constantly every 6 months to take care of your family ever since you came into this world is another section of your stable life. He has been doting over you and acted as the father figure of your little family. His visits would always complete your year.  Speaking of your acting paternal, he just arrived two days ago and will probably stay over for another five days. It’s amazing how his visits remain unchanging though, always the same month and the same days. It was unvarying, maybe that’s where you grasp some of the mannerism you have currently.  Your surroundings has always been permanent. A little changes here and there would arise, but never big ones. That’s why it scares you if something ever happens; owing to the fact that this life you have is already part of you. It has always been you, your mother and Yuki. You’re already comfortable with this, possessing the same old life you had when you were born.  A knock on your door snapped you out of your trance, your name was followed shortly after. “Are you almost ready?” Recognizing the voice, you stood up pronto, so swift that it almost ruined your balance.  Shaking your head to dismiss the dizziness off, you picked up your school bag and opened the door. “Good morning, Heiji-san.” You greeted with a smile.  He ruffled your hair. One of his tendencies whenever he visits. It’s like messing up your hair before you leave for school is a must. “Good morning. Breakfast is prepared, your friend is also there already.” He announced.  Friend. He’s probably talking about Hirugami Sachiro, your infamous childhood friend. It’s like a tradition nowadays, he regularly comes over for breakfast, reasoning that your mother cooks the best meals. When the truth is he just dreadfully hates seeing to his older sister and her boyfriend being ‘lovey-dovey.’  You didn’t noticed that Heiji had already dragged you downstairs, startled when you overheard your mother and Hirugami having a chat. It happens so often now, being lost in your own thoughts. You approached them, kissing your mother’s cheek and saying your greetings before nodding at Hirugami.  “Let’s eat!” Yuki yelled out, provoking the four of you to come to the dining room. You immediately started to consume the served meal after everyone sat down, since praying wasn’t really necessary. Your mother never pushed beliefs into the both of you, your opinions and own faith will be yours to decide on. Freedom is a fundamental for her ‘How-To-Be-A-Perfect-Mother-101.’ “How about you invite your other friend sometimes?” Your mother, Shibayama Yumie, asked you. “Korai-kun, was it?” Her memory impresses you from time to time; but then again, you only have a few friends. Countable by one hand, howbeit they’re all as good as one’s word. “Hmm, I’ll tell him to come by for breakfast sometimes, mom.” You answered blissfully. Breakfasts are the most important meal of the day, and eating with the whole family are euphoric. Especially with your two best friends and Heiji, aka three of the most important people of your life? That’s like dreaming with one's eyes open.  “It’ll be nice to meet your friends.” Heiji said. “And also, invite your relatives. It’s just proper to celebrate our lady’s coming-of-age at once.”  Oh, right. You just turned 18 a few days ago, but throwing a party isn’t really  obligatory. But because your mother kept pressing you about it, you just excused that Heiji should be there, as he is an important factor in your life after all.  “We can party this weekend, a day before Heiji-san leaves.” Yuki suggested.  “That’ll be splendid.” Heiji replied while nodding his head. He smiled at Yuki before turning to you, “Request all of your friends to come, okay? It’s a must for me to meet all your acquaintances.”  Chuckling at his desire, you just bobbed your head as a sign of agreement. As if you’ll invite a lot of people.  “Are you two done?” Yumie asked, looking at you and Hirugami. “You better leave now, or else you’ll be late for school.”  “Right, right.” Hirugami stood up from his seat, gathering all his belongings after chugging a glass of water. “Thank you for the toothsome breakfast, Yumie-san! I’ll look forward to more of your cooking.”  Hirugami is.. shameless. What’s missing is him calling your mother ‘mom’ too. Who knows, it’ll probably happen sooner or later.  “We’ll be going now!” You both said simultaneously before exiting the house.  Walking with Hirugami to school is one of the thousands habits you’ve picked up as well since your friendship with him started. Your mother asking for him to “protect” you was the sole reason of it, along with freedom, safety has always been a big deal for her. It is her top priority for you and your brother, it’s honestly admirable. And of course, living in the same neighborhood with the Hirugami family made it a piece of cake.  Anyhow, it’s reassuring. As someone who’s not entirely fond of changes, having  your fixed routine, that you unconsciously formed while growing up, occur like the usual brings a sense of comfort to you. 

”So, about that guy from last night.” Hirugami began the conversation after minutes of silently walking. Ever since bumping into the mysterious man yesterday and witnessing his unexpected reaction, your friends have been getting on your nerves with their constant queries. ”Shut up.” You cut him off pronto. Seriously, was blowing up your notifications up until midnight not enough? “For the last time, I don’t know him, Sachiro.” With an exasperated sigh, you fastened your pace, showing your obvious annoyance.  “I won’t tease you anymore, wait up!” Hirugami catched up while bursting with laughter. Him making fun of you was not new, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t irksome. “I just thought you finally found a partner after being single for so long.”  You immediately sent a glare to your friend after he said those words. “Hirugami Sachiro, I will end you.” You threatened with your most serious face, but nevertheless, he just laughed. Sometimes, the urge to choke him until he runs out of breath will pop up.  “Fine, fine. I’ll shut up.” With one last chuckle coming out his mouth, he finally piped down. Not a moment after when his phone started ringing, making you look up to him. “It’s Korai.” He announced, answering the phone call straight away.  You just stared at him while he talked to Hoshiumi, disappointed that you can’t hear what Hoshiumi’s saying on the other line. And your companion is insensitive enough to not put him on speaker.  After a few minutes, he ended the call and peeked at you forthwith. “He’s waiting for us by the gates.”  “Okay.” It didn’t take long after you reached the gates, already seeing Hoshiumi’s unique white hair from afar. His eyes perked up when you and Hirugami locked eyes with him, smiled when you waved at him.  After exchanging greetings with Hoshiumi, the three of you started to walk on your respective classrooms. “Oh, right. I heard a rumor.” Hoshiumi suddenly declared.  “What rumor?” Hirugami asked. What even kind of rumors for Hoshiumi to give a damn about it?  “Transferees.”  “Transferees? In the middle of the second semester?” You questioned. 

“Yeah. Two of them are in one of your classes, apparently.” Hoshiumi informed. “Hirugami and I share some of the classes with the other two.”  Who could that be? Who in their right mind would transfer in a middle of a semester? You halted, realizing that you already reached your class. “Oh, I’m here. See you later.”  “Library.” Hirugami gave you a heads up. The library is one of the places in school where you three meet up to fill up the free time before eating lunch. It’s amazing how your schedules go along with each other. You merely nodded in return before entering your homeroom.  You sat in your corresponding seat without interruptions, taking out your phone since no one will talk to you anyways. Plugging your earphones in after bringing out your book, you separated yourself from the world.  Music is another element of your life. It makes you forget the real situation in hand, transports you into a state which is not your own. Under the influence of music, it seems like you feel what you never felt before, it makes you understand what you don’t understand, to have powers which you can’t have. Music is powerful, it inspires. It gives you a glimpse of an impossible world.  A few songs played before you heard the bell rang, bringing you back to reality. It saddened you, but music will never leave your side no matter what. Your professor entered after a few minutes, two boys after her.  “Good morning. An addition of two students will be joining us this semester. Namely, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” The one wearing a mask and has curly hair bowed his head. “And Komori Motoya.” The man who has light-colored hair and thick, round eyebrows waved.  The class erupted into whispers, some of them waving back at the seemingly cheerful boy. “Please take care of us!” Komori uttered and inclined his head. “You two can seat behind Shibayama.” You flinched at the sudden call, but raised your hand nonetheless. You forgot that there are two vacant seats behind you, not that it mattered anyway.  As the two were seated, your professor instantly started her discussion. And as the good student you are, you quietly listened and took your notes.  After three boring hours, the bell finally rang, signalling the end of class. You stood up from your seat as soon as the professor left, not letting anyone approach you like the asocial you are.  You started walking towards the library while scrolling through your phone, confident that you won’t bump into someone. Well, surely a person with common sense would avoid you, will they not?  Wrong. You’re absolutely wrong.  You sighed before glancing at the person you bumped into. You’ve been bumping into people a lot these days, is this your new profound curse? “Sorry.” You hid your astonishment after locking eyes with him.  A student with dark-brown hair and grayish-yellow fox-like eyes who looks like he’s eventually on his way to murder someone. You bowed at him and immediately left.  It’s the first time you saw his face in the university, so he’s either a transferee or someone who doesn’t like going out in the grounds. Despite being introverted, you’re proud to say you know all the faces in your university. You stood in front the library’s door to let out another deep sigh. Backing away when the door suddenly opened from your side. “Oh, my apologies. That was rude of me.” He uttered, motioning for you to enter first.  You peeked at him, and saw that his gunmetal blue eyes staring at you. “Ah, thank you.” Offering him a smile before entering the library, completely unaware of his change of expression.  Plopping yourself down beside Hoshiumi, you started to read the book you picked up before approaching them. Unconsciously, you let out another groan, thinking back at today’s events.  Interacting with people is truly draining. 

A/N:  And there goes the second-years from the representative team 👀 Oh, and I just want to say that I may use she/her pronouns/fem!reader but please keep in mind that this is a safe space for everyone :). If it’s confusing, reader is from Shibayama family (consisting of a mother and younger brother). Family relatives [ Kyoutani, Inouka (comprising of a mother + son) ] and her mother’s friend (Heiji-san, standing up as her father figure) visits them from time to time. In conclusion, her family has very few members. Happy Holidays, everyone! May 2021 give us good memories. Always remember to stay safe! And as usual, thank you for tuning in! <3 

[quixotin]

Adrinette April Day 2: Rebellion

@adrinetteapril

Read on AO3  scene adapted from Chapter 9 of The Wall Between Us

Marinette let go of a long sigh as she reclined her back against the cool wood of the bench. She was at the park next to her house. It had been a long, long day at school and she was happy that it was finally behind her. Sketching for a few minutes, sitting under the cool shade of a tree always helped her shed the frustrations of the day; particularly one as taxing as this one. She made herself comfortable on the bench, took a deep breath, and gathered her creativity, focusing it at the tip of her pencil as she prepared to spill it into a design. As she did this, she lifted her sight to find the muse of the day, something that might be worth putting into paper. 

Something like... Adrien sneaking out of fencing practice?

The girl observed him from a baffled distance, witnessing the way he sported an uncharacteristic devious smirk on his face as he hurriedly descended down the steps of the school, two at a time. He looked to each side of the street, as if looking for spies, and darted in Marinette’s direction; to the park. 

The comical then happened: Stepping into the park, he shed his usual white overshirt and shoved it into his sports bag, produced an unassuming grey hoodie along with an insulting neon green cap, and quickly put them on. Merrily, he walked with a light spring towards the park kiosk to buy himself a soda and then proceeded to find a bench to sit on. 

Witnessing Adrien being so evidently pleased at breaking the rules was like watching a cat walk on its hindlegs: bizarre, to say the least. 

Marinette giggled at his confidence; at how sure he seemed that no one would be able to tell his identity under this poorly-thought disguise. She gathered the courage to go talk to him, just for a quick hello. Making the most of the fact he had not spotted her yet, she approached from behind him.

“FYI, you stick out like a sore thumb with that cap on,” she said, startling Adrien and prying a tiny gasp from him.

“Marinette!” he cried, tugging at his cap as if doing so might conceal his face better. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um... Designs,” she said lamely, lifting her sketchbook for Adrien to see. “But what are you doing here? Don’t you have fencing today?”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “How do you--”

Marinette’s face became red with embarrassment, quickly interrupting him hoping she hadn’t exposed the things she knew about him. “Just a lucky guess, heh, heh.” 

“I’m sneaking out,” he said, scanning the surroundings. 

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because you never know. Natalie always catches me. Sometimes I feel like she tapped my phone or something.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a sympathetic smile, with her courage quickly returning to her to poke fun at him a little more, “Well, one thing is for sure. You’re making it easy for her with that neon green thing on you.” 

“It’s the only cap I could find in the morning! Is it really that bad?”

“Take it off. You call less attention without it,” Marinette said with a giggle. “You wouldn’t be able to hide your identity for the life of you.”

Adrien laughed. “I’ll have you know I have excellent camouflaging skills.”

“Right, right. And I’m Ladybug.” 

Adrien grinned at her. His delighted heart missed a beat or two as he relished in the possibility. 

“Anyway,” Marinette said, nervousness building up inside of her at the prospect of being alone with Adrien. “I should probably get going, good luck with the sneaking out.”

“Wait!” Adrien said, more disappointed than he wanted to sound. “I, um... Would you like to spend some time with me? We could find something to do. If you’re not busy, that is.” 

Marinette ignored the warm blush that crept on her cheeks. “What-- yes. Co fourse! I mean of course! I mean--heh. Yeah, what--what did you have in mind?” 

Adrien beamed at her, stood up, and then gave her a little devilish smirk. Marinette couldn’t help but be both a little worried and infinitely curious to know what sorts of trouble Adrien wanted to get into.

They headed back to the kiosk again, this time with the mission of filling Adrien’s backpack with as many snacks as they could fit. To the clerk’s satisfaction, that involved practically emptying the little hut out of the day’s stock. 

Loot packed up and horrible neon green caps out of the way, Adrien led Marinette to stage two of his plan. They headed a few blocks away from the park, to a residential area where Adrien started testing for unlocked front doors in the apartment buildings. 

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked, a bit bewildered. 

“Looking for an open door,” Adrien explained, simultaneously finding what he was searching for. “Ah! Success!” he exclaimed, pushing the door open. “After you prin--After you.”

Marinette gave him a suspicious look but did his bidding, following him inside and then onto the building’s stairs. 

“Adrien what are you doing?” Marinette asked again, more evidently worried. “We’re going to get in trouble!” 

“No, we’re not,” he assured her as he consistently climbed up the staircase. “Trust me.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before,” she said as she reached the very last floor, finding Adrien negotiating with the lock of the only door there. 

He pulled what looked like a fancy, metal credit card from his wallet, and used to click the lock open. Marinette snorted at the sight. 

“Why use a platinum credit card in the Champs Elysees when you can use it to perform a misdemeanor,” Marinette said. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Adrien said with a wink, pushing the door to the roof open and seizing an indistinct brick that lay there to prevent the door from shutting close. 

“You are an actual teenage vandal aren’t you,” Marinette said, absolutely bewildered at Adrien’s criminal tendencies. “So is this how you spend your free time? Breaking into people’s roofs?”

Adrien giggled as he found a spot to sit near the edge of the building. “In a way, I guess you could say that.” 

Marinette shook her head, still in shock as she joined Adrien. 

Worried at her silence, and that she might think less of him for this little escapade, Adrien hurried to look for her validation. “Are you mad? I swear I’ve only done it a couple of times and if it makes you really uncomfortable we can go down. I’m sorry.” 

Marinette turned to see Adrien’s worried, expectant face. “What? No, no. I’m not mad! It’s okay. It’s just... I never thought you had it in you to be this...”

“Bad?” he asked, sadness staining his tone.

“Rebellious,” she offered instead. “It’s a bit odd. At school, you’re always so, so... perfect.”

Adrien scrunched up his nose. “I know, I hate it,” he confessed, pulling his legs to his chest responding to a subconscious need to hide. 

Trying not to delve too much into the thought, he reached for the bag where the snacks were and emptied their little treasure between them. He gestured for Marinette to have the first pick, which she indulged by grabbing a bag of chips and a bottle of sparkling pink lemonade. 

Adrien grabbed a pack of fruit gummies and plain sparkling water as he spoke again. “Most of the stuff I do, I do it for my father.” He sighed and then continued quietly. “But it doesn’t matter how hard I work, it always feels like it’s not good enough for him and I’m tired of pretending to be someone I am not.”

Marinette’s heart wrung at Adrien’s confession. A small part of her did wonder what brought him to trust her like this so out of the blue, but this and any of her other reservations flew out the window at the sight of him being so evidently upset. It pained Marinette to see him like that.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I mean, I’m sorry that... that your father makes you feel that way.”

Adrien looked down, hugging his legs a little tighter. 

“But you can always be yourself around me,” she offered, with her voice trembling.

Adrien’s saddened pout slowly melted into a warm smile. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I like spending time with you, Marinette. You’re the greatest friend I could possibly have asked for.”

She tried not to pay too much attention to the utter disappointment that washed over her at the idea of Adrien seeing her as just a friend. Instead, she focused on the part that mattered: That he could have someone with whom he didn’t feel the need to pretend or put up an act. As Ladybug, she knew the burden all too well and didn’t wish it on anyone, certainly not on Adrien.

“Yep,” she said. “That’s what friends are for! Heh, heh.” 

“And um, you, too.”

“Me, too?”

“I mean, you don’t have to pretend around me...” he said, taken aback by the fact he was inexplicably blushing. “I notice that you always get, er... a little tongue-tied.”

“Oh!” Marinette piped, perking up with the dread that suddenly seized her. “That. Ha, ha. That’s nothing! I just... have... uh... you know me. I don’t-- I, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said, shrugging. “It’s just, this is the first real conversation you and I have ever had. It’s... nice. I wish we could do it more often.” 

Marinette laughed nervously, beyond herself with mortification and wondering whether Adrien actually knew the kind of influence he had on her. Maybe he did and he just enjoyed messing with her.

“I just... get a little nervous, that’s all,” she said sheepishly.

“Why? Is it because I’m famous?” Adrien said, adopting a smug flair. One that helped Marinette overcome her embarrassment faster than she could say ‘Lucky Charm’. She didn’t know exactly why, but Adrien’s smug, rebellious side--the side she had been witness to for the good part of the last few hours, helped her feel more at ease, more willing to use her own sass on him.

She rolled her eyes and playfully jabbed him with her arm. “You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?  And here I was, thinking you were a perfectly polite, quiet, well-behaved boy. How wrong I was.”

“I’m all of those things!” Adrien protested as he shoved an indiscriminate handful of gummies into his mouth and leaned back. “But, you know,” he added with a small wink. “What other people don’t know, won’t kill them.”

“Show-off,” Marinette teased. 

“Only with the right audience,” Adrien said, defending himself.

Adrien was about to remark how Marinette was one to talk. How she convinced him of being the class sweetheart when in reality she was as sassy as they come. Unfortunately, he’d have to save that joke for later, because as they bantered, an Akuma rose in the distance. 

Duty called. 

[miracleonice87]

Make You Feel My Love with Nathan MacKinnon

a Nathan MacKinnon song fic

a/n: season outcome, timing, and stats = totally fake. based on Nate’s public mentions in past interviews of seeing a sports psychologist, which is really inspiring to me. seeking professional advice is a GOOOOD thing! also, wasn’t originally intended to be a song fic, but Adele’s version of Make You Feel My Love (originally by Bob Dylan) came on while I was finishing it up, so I went with it! last note: pretending Tyson never got traded to the Leafs is the best part of writing hockey fanfiction. 🥺

summary: Angry/Sad Nate loses in the playoffs and takes his frustrations out on his girlfriend Sam, who gets comfort and advice from his teammates and friends.

warnings: swearing; isolated, individual outbursts of anger but NO physical violence; mentions of counseling/therapy and the practice of sports psychology (obviously, like I mentioned, this is a good thing but just something to know); crying Nate (I feel like that deserves a warning)

_____

Deflated, I sat in a bulky black chair in the team family room deep in the recesses of the Pepsi Center for several minutes after leaving the wives and girlfriends suite, needing a moment away from prying eyes and cameras to process what had just occurred.

The Avalanche had been one of the highly favored teams in the West all season long, yet had just been swept in the second round of the playoffs. My boyfriend, Nathan MacKinnon, widely regarded as one of the best players in the NHL, had totaled only one point in the 11 playoff games the team had played this year, earning a single assist on a Mikko Rantanen goal.

Needless to say, that hadn’t been sitting right with Nate.

He’d been short with me since the first few games of the postseason; even shorter than he typically got when he was in a drought. I had tried to give him space, but he snapped about the smallest questions I asked or requests I made of him: what he wanted for dinner, or to be sure he called to wish his sister Sarah a happy birthday. He sometimes mumbled an apology in my general direction, but more often than not, he simply left the room in a huff. I tried my best to be patient — to give him space.

It was abundantly clear that the pressure that always loomed heavy over Nathan like a thick, dark cloud had now intensified. I knew, without him ever verbalizing it, that he felt more burdened than ever before to live up to the hype — to the expectations he had for himself, and to those placed on him, either explicitly or implicitly, by the entire hockey community and the media.

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

I sat still with my head in my hands for what seemed like forever, until sweet Mel Landeskog, whom I had become so close with over the last four seasons of watching our significant others play together, came and rubbed my back gently through the custom Avs denim jacket that hung on my shoulders. I lifted my head to look at her, a sympathetic smile etched on her beautiful features.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Mel offered. “I know he’s gonna be so hard on himself. But he had such a great season — he needs to be proud of that,” she reasoned. I nodded.

Mel was right. He had had a truly remarkable regular season — he had scored 95 points in 82 games after a enduring a considerable slump for much of the previous year. This year stood in stark contrast to last. He had been riding high for many weeks; that is, until playoffs hit.

I stood to wrap Mel in a hug, appreciative of her gesture of support but unwilling to reflect on Nate’s play right now. “Thank you, Mel,” I told her as I squeezed her tightly. “I’m gonna miss you so much this summer,” I added, gesturing to the car seat on the floor beside her. “And Nate and I will both miss that little one, too,” I said as I blew Linnea a kiss, making her giggle, a welcome sound after a heartbreaking display on the ice. Mel glanced down at her baby daughter, beaming.

“I know, honey. We’ll miss you too. But it won’t be long until we’re all back here together, plus we’ll see each other for a couple of these bachelorette parties and summer weddings and get-togethers, yeah?” she said with a nudge.

“Yeah, that’ll be nice. Until then, you guys be safe,” I told her. With one last hug and quick kisses to each other’s cheeks, Mel picked up Linnea in her seat and exited the room. I realized that she and I had been the last two wives or girlfriends to leave, with most of us having exchanged quiet goodbyes in the suite before making hasty escapes to the parking area to console our respective sad hockey players.

With a groan at the depressing thought, I pulled my jean jacket tighter to my torso and walked slowly out the open door.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

The locker room doors stood maybe ten yards down the hall. The usual rambunctious ruckus that so often echoed off the cinderblock walls was tonight exchanged for a thick silence. It seemed that most of the guys had already left, and those who remained were noiseless. I softly greeted a few of the familiar men who made their way out the doors, offering only a sad smile and a few words of comfort to each, knowing that they weren’t in the mood to engage. They were, however, still polite, with several of the players embracing me briefly or kissing my cheek as they left the building.

Gabe Landeskog was among the very last to leave the room, unsurprisingly, as he was ever the responsible and respectable captain. He spotted me immediately and enveloped me in his strong grasp.

“Hi, friend,” I whispered into his shoulder, worried that my voice would break. “Hi, söt flicka,” (sweet girl) he countered.

“I’m sorry, Cap,” I told him quietly. He pulled back and shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Wasn’t our year,” he replied with a shrug. “As you can imagine, Nate is taking it pretty hard...” his voice trailed off. “I just want you to be prepared,” he finally added, carefully.

My stomach knotted. I tucked some of my hair behind my ear and swiftly licked my lips, feeling anxiety pool in my gut.

Gabe placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Just remember it’s not you he’s upset with. It’s himself,” he said softly. I quickly glanced up at him and nodded. “Thank you,” I choked out. “Now you better get going. You’ve got two beautiful girls waiting for you,” I told him, feigning a bright grin. He tried to mirror my expression, but fell short. It was unnatural to see such sadness in his normally joyful visage. He squeezed my upper arm.

“That I do,” Gabe agreed. “We’ll see you soon, Sam.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “Bye, Cap.” He gave a solemn nod and disappeared down the hallway.

My unease only multiplied after my exchange with Gabe. I began to pace slowly in a circle. I jumped a few moments later when the door flew open with a screech, Nate emerging from behind it, a bitter, dark expression on his face.

I greeted him softly, tentatively, reaching a hand toward him.

“Nate, baby, I —“

My boyfriend brushed past me in a flash, causing a literal draft of air to hit me as he held up his hand, never even making eye contact with me as he practically stomped down the corridor.

My blood ran hot — how dare he not acknowledge my presence after I had attended how many home games, and even road games, supporting him and cheering him on, no matter what? And that was just this season — what about the three prior? Why was he shutting me out? My heart thumped against my ribcage.

“Nathan,” I called, my voice firm this time, whipping around to face his back and then fumbling with the chain of my Louis Vuitton bag as it fell from my shoulder. Discombobulated, I threaded it back over my arm clumsily and took two hurried steps in Nate’s direction, but he was already out of sight.

Just then, I noticed our close friend Tyson Barrie standing a few feet behind me. I could infer from the way he was approaching me gingerly, which was highly unlike him, that he had witnessed our exchange, or the lack thereof. I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead, his hand coming to grip my other elbow.

“Sam, sweetheart... you okay?” Tyson asked softly. Hot tears pricked my eyelids, but I refused to let them fall, blinking them back with a sniffle. My hand fell back to my side — I was shaking now.

“I knew he would be mad...” I began. “But what the fuck, Tys?” My voice wavered.

Tyson instinctively pulled my waist to his side, giving me a quick, protective kiss to the temple, before pulling away and offering me his hand.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” he volunteered. With another sniff, I shook my head. “No, it’s okay, Tys. I drove, thank god,” I spat. “Besides, you’re dealing with the same disappointment. You need to go home with Em and unwind,” I insisted, smoothing one hand over his suit jacket. His head dropped and he offered a weak nod.

“I guess. But listen, if he’s still not acting right, call me, okay? You know you can come over. You’re always welcome, especially when he’s being such an ass,” Tyson said, the end of his sentence turning into a growl. We both sighed; I nodded.

“Thanks, Tys. I’ll let you know. And listen, I’m sorry... about tonight. I know it hurts,” I told him, hugging his neck with one arm. He spread his fingers over my back and gave me a squeeze before stepping back to look into my eyes.

“It’s just hockey,” he said quietly. I smiled weakly and nodded once. “Bye, Sam. See you soon,” he said, rubbing one hand over my shoulder as he turned and made his way down the hall to find Emma.

If only Nathan shared his friend’s logic and sentiment.

I dropped my head back at the thought, tears once again collecting in my eyes. I forced them closed in an attempt to stay composed. With another sigh, I slowly started toward the private parking garage where my vehicle waited.

Unsurprisingly, as I stepped through the glass door and into the garage where I spotted my Audi, the spot next to me where Nate’s Porsche had been was empty. I unlocked my car, tossed my bag and scarf into the passenger side, and slammed my door shut before giving the steering wheel two firm bangs with the palm of my hand. My body still hadn’t stopped trembling.

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue

I'd go crawling down the avenue

No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do

To make you feel my love

I rested my forehead against the leather steering wheel for a moment before drawing a breath and finally backing out of my spot and exiting the garage, apprehensive of the scene I might find at the condo Nathan and I shared.

_____

I stepped through the front door tentatively, chewing on the inside of my lip. I was careful not to make a sound, walking on tiptoes to avoid clicking my heeled boots on the white tile floor. I dropped my purse onto the table in the entryway and reached to hang up my keys on the rack by the closet when I heard the distinct sound of glass — a lot of glass — shattering.

I froze.

The plans I had formulated in my head during my drive to confront Nate as soon as I arrived home suddenly seemed too unnerving to carry out.

My knees were nearly knocking together as I zipped through the living room and tucked myself behind the wet bar in one corner of the room. I hid myself in a partially-enclosed area where the wine and beer fridge stood, then felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I fumbled to answer it, not wanting to make too much noise.

Sidney Crosby, the onscreen caller ID read. I tapped the green button.

“Hello?” I was caught off guard by how frightened my own voice sounded as I answered.

“Sam, hi. Are you home?” Sid’s usually calm and collected tone was now bathed in concern.

“Hi, Sid. Yeah, I just got home. He’s, uh... it’s not good,” I said quietly, glancing at the staircase as I heard another thud upstairs, this time what sounded like a pair of shoes against Nate’s closet wall. On the other end of the call, Sid heaved a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, I figured,” he said tensely. “I tried calling him thinking I might catch him on his way home and talk him down a bit, but he ignored my call. I’m sorry, Sam. Are you alright?”

I glanced down at my free hand which rested on the oak wood of the bar. I was still trembling, my fears of coming home to chaos having been realized.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I choked out, lying through my teeth. “It’s just hard to watch.”

A deep hum of understanding came from Sid’s throat. “I bet. Have you talked to him?”

I shook my head, despite the fact that Sid was nowhere nearby to see the gesture. “No,” I vocalized weakly. “He uh... he kinda... he didn’t wanna talk to me at the arena... I don’t think.” I fiddled with my promise ring on my left hand as I made the admission. It didn’t even sound like Sid was breathing on the other end of the line.

“You’re telling me he blew you off?” he asked gruffly. I could envision Sidney running a hand over his face before gripping his neat curls atop his dark hair, as he often did when frustrated. I opened my mouth to confirm, but couldn’t actually bring myself to do so, knowing what his reaction would be. I also didn’t want to confess to the commotion I had just heard upstairs, knowing that it would further upset my concerned friend, on my behalf. Instead, I let my silence do the talking.

“Goddammit, Sam,” he growled. “I’m so sorry. He’s young. He- he... I used to do this shit, too,” Sidney admitted with a quick breath. “It’s bullshit. He’s just angry with himself and he’s taking it out on you and it’s not fair. I had hoped I had set a better example about how to deal with these things when they happen... but apparently not.”

A couple of hot tears fell to my face as I responded. “This isn’t your fault, Sid.” He retorted immediately, “Well, it’s sure as hell not yours, either.”

We both sat in contemplation for several moments, neither sure of the next step to take. Then, Sid decided.

“I won’t call him again because he needs to talk to you first. But I am going to text him and urge him that he needs to let you in,” Sid insisted. “He needs to let somebody in,” he repeated. “And it needs to be you first.”

More tears were falling now, and I glanced up at the chandelier overhead and pulled my phone from my ear for a beat to try and settle myself. I wiped at my face with the bottom of my thumb.

“Okay,” I finally whispered. I hadn’t ever really cried around Sid, and while he was one of the nicest and most genuine human beings on the planet, I knew he wasn’t quite accustomed to emotional encounters like this one, and I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by letting him hear the sobs that were bubbling up in my chest.

“It might not feel like it right now,” Sid broached, speaking in a soothing tone reminiscent of my father’s or brother’s when trying to console me. “But you’re right where you need to be. So is he. He needs you, Sam.”

I've known it from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind where you belong

“Sam?” Nate suddenly called out from the balcony above me, his voice not sounding heated, but doleful instead. From where he stood upstairs, he couldn’t see me.

“Was that him?” Sid asked. “Yeah,” I said softly, somewhat in response to both men. “Good. He’s coming around. Trust me. I’ll let you go. Text me later, eh?” Sid requested, sounding slightly relieved. “Yeah, I will. Promise. Thank you. Bye,” I said hurriedly before ending the call.

“Sam?” Nate’s voice echoed off the walls once more, sounding desperate this time. My pulse quickened.

“Yeah. I’m coming,” I said softly. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, took a steadying breath, and turned to walk upstairs and face him.

By the time I arrived on the second floor only a handful of moments later, Nate was already back in our bedroom, seated in the oversized Queen Anne chair near the center of the room, elbows on his knees, chin almost to his chest. I was shocked to hear small sobs escaping his lips. He glanced in my general direction, not meeting my eyes, and cried harder.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Nate finally spoke, somewhat coarsely. My heart seemed to shatter right then, and I felt my body steel in self-defense, preparing for war.

“I can’t even believe how I treated you back there. I’m such an awful fucking human. I’m a monster. I’m so sorry,” Nate added tearfully, catching me off guard.

The storms are raging on the rolling sea

And on the highway of regret

The winds of change are blowing wild and free

You ain't seen nothing like me yet

I immediately let out three sobs that seemed to have been lodged in my throat for almost an hour now and, in an instant, closed the gap between us. I dropped to my knees in front of him and laid my head in his lap, hugging his calves. Never before had we shared such an intensely emotional moment. Above me, he covered his eyes with his hands and drew shallow, gasping breaths in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he cried, not touching me of his own accord. “I’m so sorry.” I picked up my head and looked at him, urgency coursing through my veins. I needed him to come back to me.

“Nathan, baby, hey,” I coaxed, rubbing his big thigh with my hand, which looked so small in comparison. “Look at me. Please? I need you to.”

After a beat, Nate finally lifted his head from his hands, his pale skin slightly splotchy and tinted red, blue eyes shimmering behind more tears that threatened to fall.

“There’s my handsome man,” I said softly, combing my fingers through the neat hair near his ears, watching him slowly return to me.

“Hey, I want you to listen to me, okay? Tonight you’re allowed to cry it out, or punch our pillows, or run on the treadmill all night to blow off some steam. And then I’ll give you a couple more days to swallow this. But after that? We’re gonna check in with Dr. Butler, both of us, so she can give us some ways to cope with this.”

Nate’s shuddering breaths had finally started to slow as I spoke, referencing one of his most trusted allies, the Denver-based sports psychologist he had been seeing now for a few seasons to help him deal with not only hockey-related challenges and mental blocks, but also general anxiety, in order to boost his mental health. I was careful not to allow my tone to come across as if I were babying him, but instead offering comfort and, more importantly, suggesting help. “Because tonight? These last couple weeks? This can’t be it. We can’t deal with things this way. I don’t want you shutting me out, or Sid, or your family, okay? You wouldn’t let me do that — I’m not gonna let you,” I added.

Nate nodded quickly. “Absolutely, babe. I was just gonna say, as soon as I heard you on the phone downstairs, it really just hit me. I realized I needed to text her and set up an appointment,” he told me, his voice no longer shaky. “And that I needed to apologize to you,” he added softly. I nodded, and he grabbed my hands, pulling me to my feet and then back down to lie in his lap. I threw my legs over one arm of the chair and settled against his chest.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to find comfort in Nate’s heartbeat for a moment, as he pressed soft kisses into my hair, before I looked around the room, assessing the damage. I noticed that his suit coat lay crumpled in the middle of his closet floor, his shoes having bounced off the wall there as I suspected, and they sat out of place atop his neatly assembled collection of footwear. Across from us, I noticed the source of the shattered glass — a shadow box display from Nate’s unforgettable rookie season hung just slightly crooked on the wall, the glass in the front completely broken out, save for the shards along the inner edge of the frame.

Nate followed my gaze to the mess and sighed. “I’m really sorry about that, Sam,” he said, shame creeping into his tone. I nodded knowingly. “What did you throw?” I asked. “That puck they gave me from the last game of the regular season. It was on my dresser when I set my wallet down and it just set me off,” he admitted sheepishly. “It was stupid.”

“Yes, it was stupid to break something that’s valuable to you, but it’s not stupid, what you’re feeling,” I told him firmly. “Besides, we’ll get a new glass panel and it’ll be good as new.” His grip around me tightened, appreciative of my response. “Thank you,” Nate whispered into my ear. I turned to kiss his lips slowly and deeply. He finally pulled back, only to murmur, “I don’t deserve you. I’m so grateful I have you.” I smoothed my thumb across his cheekbone. “I’m always going to be here for you, Nate,” I promised. He gave me one more solemn kiss.

“Listen, I’m gonna carry you into the bathroom so you don’t even get close to any shards of glass, and I’ll clean all this up while you run us a bath,” Nate told me. “I’ll join you soon. I think it’ll be good for both of us, eh?” I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck as he easily picked me up bridal-style and headed toward the en suite.

Things were far from perfect, but I was prepared to do everything in my power to get us as close as possible. From the change in his demeanor, I knew Nate was, too.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true

Nothing that I wouldn't do

Go to the ends of the Earth for you

To make you feel my love

[shyrose57]

It works very much like illusions. Ranbob can see him but can't touch him. While Dream can touch him (though it feel like more of a faint touch). The entire time Ranbob feels like he's dreaming but due to physical evidence, like notes left by Dream, he knows it isn't a dream. He's just kinda existing. But in actuality he's not completely "there", sometimes he is aware of what's going on (though he never remembers more often than not) but that's when Dream allows it, other than that he's either floating aimlessly in the void or dreaming. Not aware of what's happening. 

Definitely, Enderman tend to be 7 ft+. Infact when traveling and Enderman spot Ranbob, they always voice their worry about him being so short. They know he's a hybrid so he was always going to be shorter than them, but he shouldn't have been this short. His growth is permanently stunted. Its a miracle he even got those 2 inches to be honest. Ran was definitely caught off guard seeing Ranbob so short. But quickly dismissed it in favor of attacking him. But later on as time passes, he can't dismiss the unease and concern he gets when he thinks about the difference so easily as he did eailer. The Gladiators notice right away but don't comment on it, the Fishermen think Ranbobs height is normal so when they meet Ran and learn Enderman hybrids typically grow that big and bigger their caught off guard, Cletus and Charles attempt to question Ran what its like to be so tall but Benjamin stops them. 

He did, the Dream Mask has a small bit of it broken off due to it being dropped (Ranbob didn't break it. He suspects maybe when it was being transferred it got dropped in its holding box and thats what broke it). Ranbob picked it up because he meant to throw it away, but he forgot too. Giving Dream more time to get a hold on him. They talked about whatever came to mind at first since Benjamin didn't want to start off with the rough questions. But eventually the two did start to talk about what happened to Ranbob and who/what Dream was.

Dream does not consider it important enough because he thinks he's never going back there. So it falls into disrepair and gets all dusty with some mold even growing in the room. 

Dreams petty and likes being in control of everything. But Dream would just kinda wander, making sure no ones alive. Every now and again he'll get bored and just destroy something. The fishermen explored and read about the history of Mizu while they were there, then after Ranbob attacked them spent most of the time arguing about what to do with him. 

It just leads to Cletus being mean/rude to Ranbob and taking much longer than the others to be comfortable around him. If that's what you mean.

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

Yes! When it was down to just 4 people left alive in Mizu, Ran stumbled upon the 4th person dead, then it all kind of clicks in his head, as the only other person currently alive is a Council Member, that it has to be his brother. So he rushes off to find the Council Member so they can stop Ranbob, only to find Ranbob standing over his dead corpse. Thats when the chase around Mizu ticks off that ends with Ran fleeing Mizu. 

Cause while spiders are passive in daytime, creepers aren't, and don't burn in the light. Plus they are loud with their explodes (yet oddly quiet) which can give his position away.

Eh I'll say. Their not really super common because mixing them can cause serious side effects during and after mixture. But the healing, sleep aids, and infection mixtures are common as they've been figured out and can safely be made. Fun fact: Subbin actually has an entire community and an official place in the government for figuring out potion mixtures, making new ones, and making the mixing process as safe as possible. 

The group doesn't really use the mixtures much, expect for Rans sleep aid and a every now and again healing mixture when a Pit match goes wrong. Cause Grievous used to intern in a potion shop and learned all about them then.

He really did. 

Your right! Not many people traverse it. Because he was a Technoblade follower, and they typically get taught the bare basics of surviving in environments like the Nether, deserts, snow, caves, etc in their teachings. He got da book from his Idol teachers, everyone in his Idol group got a book as well. 

You can ask! I welcome any and all questions.

There's gold coins (I forget the actual in-game name oop) ore deposits in the Nether, so he mines that. Not any specific ones, cause there is still a language barrier and a mostly gesture barrier (expect for the universal ones like wait, ok/good, no harm, etc). 

They made a group decision to try to check the Nether on a whim. Though mostly cause one guy just wouldn't shut up about it. They found a broken portal and managed to repair it enough to enter.

The Fishermen and Ranbob where kinda confused (cause Ran hadn't fully told them about his time on the run.) But expressed sympathy at his house being burned down. Jackie and Grievous wanted to search it for anything usable, Ran didn't let em cause he thinks there's nothing left. Watson shoots Ran a sympathetic look and declared that he wants to keep moving to find shelter. Benjamin quickly agreeing and the group moves on.

---------Tip of The Iceberg-----------

He does not expect in all of their times he's still the God of the world. 

Honestly, most of them were fine. Bad was the only one who was mad and wasn't ok with it. The Masquerade, The Pit, Sam, Sapnap, Quackity, Foolish, Ranboo, Skeppy, Tubbo, Tommy, and Karl all say the Egg wrote it because they all have had experience with the Egg. The Haunted Mansion, The Wild West, George, Fundy, Eret, Jack, Niki, and Puffy all say XD because they've either had no experience with the Egg or believe in XD's existence. Philza and Technoblade actually go both ways. (If I forgot someone, oops). 

Technoblade, Phil, Niki, The Pit, The Wild West, Puffy, Sapnap, and Sam are all on the Frontline. While the others are all split between research into the egg (The Masquerade is in this one of course), and running tests. Fundy is a runner, delivering orders, requests, or new information. Foolish is on both the researching, testing, and frontlines, he is on the frontlines when needed but otherwise is researching and testing. Karl is typically somewhere with one of the many Traveler groups. Quackity, Eret, and Sam (when not on frontlines) are on planning duties. 

The Egg is strong enough to propose a real and constant threat to the groups. Everyone is typically on the move to avoid the reaching of the Egg and its Eggpire. 

Bad hasn't gotten what he wants, which is Skeppy. And as he has "opened his eyes" a bit he sees the hypocrisy, manipulation, and lies that surround the Egg and wants out. 

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

Ye ye Brothers AU sorry.

The fishermen get to their home, wake up the next day, and Ranbob is already making a field for wheat and potatoes. Benjamin fucking squawks and races out to make Ranbob stop. And Isaac eventually has to come out and help cause Ranbob is refusing to leave. Cletus laughs at Ranbob and makes fun of him but stops when he sees Charles sadly staring at him. A silent ask to stop. 

He does but Porkius is chill and let's the Gladiators do whatever they want as long as they are still in fighting condition for matches and gives them money every week. Plus he's chill and is kinda friends with them. But sometimes Porkius has them go to extravagant parties with him. They all hate going, not just Ran. Mostly cause the rich people are snobs and either 1. Constantly insult them in conversation than act surprised when they get mad at them and report it to Porkius. 2. Talk with them but talk exclusively about themselves and are insensitive to the Gladiators. But sometimes there's actually people at the parties who are genuinely curious and kind and want to get to know the Gladiators. Those conversations are pleasant and the Gladiators, no matter who it is, actively enjoy the conversation.

Ran has always been mischievous. Even witnessing murder, being traumatized, hunted constantly, and fighting non-stop hasn't changed that. If anything he got more mischievous over time. 

Something extra I wanted to share: 

-There is music in world and the player the Gladiators share get brought on the trip so they can play music the entire time. 

  -Ran and Grievous fight over who gets to pick music often.

    -Fun fact about why I did this: Every single part of this story and all others has been either created by or inspired by music. For example the Tip of The Iceberg AU was solely inspired by the song True North (by Vocal Line), while Brothers AU was made from Ruler of Everything (by Tally Hall) and partly Mind Electric (by Miracle Musical). So I wanted to include music somehow. (I actually have a entire playlist with music that I've used for certain parts of the Brothers AU.)

Brothers AU:

Interesting, interesting. What triggers these 'dreams'? Can Dream do it, or is it like just something that happens?

I'm assuming only the brothers would know what the Endermen are saying, but there's also body language, so how does everyone react to that behavior? Do one of the brothers ever tell them what's being said, or? What's everyone's thoughts on Ranbob's height, seeing as the Fishermen were surprised, and the Gladiators immediately noticed?

How does Benjamin feel about what he hears? Is he a bit skeptical at first, or fully believing Ranbob's words?

So the room's in disrepair, interesting. At some point, it's mentioned that they go back there, I think, so does that strike anyone as odd?

He destroyed stuff? Like just general items or artifacts? How did Ranbob feel, if/when he was aware?

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

Why didn't he assume it was the Council Member? What clues led him to his brother instead?

Understandable.

Oh, that's really interesting!

World building galore, fantastic!

Who was the one guy?

He thinks? Was there something left then?

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

Tip Of The Iceberg AU:

Still the god? He didn't expect that? Was someone else supposed to be? If so, who? What's his reaction to learning such?

Bad seems to be straying from the egg, does he intend to leave it? Or does it have a way to keep him?

Do we have any particular groups here? People who fight or work well together, and kind of drift to one another? What sort of dynamics do we get with all of this, especially since everyone's on the move constantly to avoid the Eggpire.

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

Brothers AU:

Benjamin: Whatcha got there?

Ranbob: Excessive labor when I should be resting.

Benjamin, gasping: NO!

What are the parties typically like? Do they behave or cause havoc? Switch it up? Anyone in particular they don't hate talking to there?

Always mischievous, just better at hiding it. Wait, that means Ranbob would have known he was like that, wouldn't he? He'd know exactly what to expect. Would anyone else? Either way, that should be amusing.

------

What kind of music do they have, and what does everyone prefer to listen to?

(Time to go on a song-spree!)

[harrylee94]

The Tournament - Chapter 3

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: “I wish I could choose my own Protector.”

“You know why you can’t.”

“But how will I know if I can trust them?”

Notes: TW: VERY brief mention of stillbirth. Skip the paragraph beginning with “Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc” if you’re not comfortable with this.

Chapter 2

——————————————————————

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum ” - Din

The man in the mirror looked like a stranger. The armour he wore was almost like a mirror itself from how polished it was (his hands still ached from buffing), and yet it still only covered the most vital of areas. The tunic beneath that and the necessary padding was uncomfortably embroidered, the bronze and gold trim scratching at his neck and wrists and bringing attention to his rank, even though he’d much rather have hidden away. His boots were polished within an inch of their life as well, though, thankfully, familiar; not exactly new but not old enough to merit calling in a cobbler. The tabard was completely new, the tailors having worked through the night to complete it; grey with red trim and detailing, to emphasise that he had recently lost the last person he could call family.

Din took a deep breath as he met his own sallow eyes. He felt like a doll, about to go on display.

Mourning was something that he wanted to do on his own terms, in the quiet privacy of his room, or out in the fields, able to allow the rain to hide his tears. If he had been any other man in the kingdom he would have been able to, would have been able to honour his buir’s memory in the way he wanted, but it was not only him who would mourn her, and he could not be selfish.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” he muttered quietly, rubbing his thumb over a swirl on his cuff. “Vod’ika.” His little sister had been taken from them before she could draw her first breath. She had never been named. “Ren Djarin.” His father had marched on only a handful of years earlier, and in some moments the wound felt fresh. Today was one of those days. “Kovra Djarin.” He had hoped he would have many years more to wait before saying his mother’s name, but today it would be on thousands of lips.

He sniffed and quickly wiped away his tears, reaching for his belt and sword to strap them to his waist.

“Knock knock.”

Din paused, looking over his shoulder at the door. “Marshal Dune.”

The Marshal of castle town smirked at him from where she was leaning against the door jamb, arms folded across her chest, her leather armour oiled and brushed. She must have been waiting for him to finish.

“Prince Djarin,” she replied, pushing herself up. She gave him an exaggerated look up and down and raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like a peacock.”

Din snorted and turned back to the mirror as he buckled his belt. “I feel like one; roasted, stuffed and decorated, ready for the court’s pleasure.”

“Sounds about right,” she said as she stopped just to the left of him. “You ready for this?”

“No,” he said, “but I have to. This is the Way.” He met her eyes in the mirror, taking note of her position. “You’re sure you won’t join the Tournament?”

She snorted. “Fuck no! Din, I love you, but can you imagine me in court?”

Din winced. He could imagine it easily. He could also see what a terrible idea that would be; Cara Dune had no patience for fools, no matter their rank or status. As much as he would have loved to have had someone he knew, someone he trusted, at his side, it would be a political nightmare. Plus it would likely be viewed as favouritism should she win with how close they were. Their friendship was well known, almost infamous depending on who you spoke to, but they had grown into their responsibilities, separate branches of the same tree though they were.

“I wish I could choose my own Protector,” he bemoaned, fiddling with his scabbard to untangle it from his tabard. Ridiculous thing. He never wore them outside of ceremonies.

“You know why you can’t,” Cara replied with sympathetic eyes.

He sighed and nodded. It was a chance for the Clans of Mandalore to show their prowess, and for him, as the new ruler, to show his trust in his subjects. It was an important ritual, an essential process, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

“But how will I know if I can trust them?”

“You won’t,” Cara said, and rested her hand on his shoulder, “but you can trust Saruk, and they won’t let an idiot replace them.”

He hummed. It was a nice thought, but he would still have to endure the new Protector for the first few months of his reign so he didn’t step on any toes. He hated politics. “I have to make the announcement first.”

“Then I suppose you’d better get out there.”

“Is that why you came here?” Din asked, turning to face her.

“One of the reasons,” she said with a shrug. “That, and I knew you needed the company.”

He smirked and grasped her shoulder in thanks. “Let’s get out there then.”

With a slap to his shoulder, Cara left, glancing back over her shoulder as she vanished from sight. It only took him a few moments more to convince himself to follow, heading out the door without a pause, knowing that Saruk would be a step behind him as he headed towards the hall.

The castle was quiet, only the faint murmurings that echoed from the hall down the corridors to be heard, and those were too indistinct to make anything of. His footsteps were quiet, as were Saruk’s, who stepped in tandem with him, but as he rounded the last corner and the guards ahead of him straightened, the whispers fell silent.

A great crowd had filled the hall, standing before the stacks of logs and planks that lined the edges, and leaving only the raised dais where the throne sat, a path for him to get there, and the very centre clear. Everyone was in their finest, varying colours among them, but red was predominant among them. Honouring a leader. It sickened him to know that some only wore it to curry favour with him, as their next King, but he couldn’t think of that now.

His buir’s body lay in repose in the centre of the room, resting on a wooden stretcher and her hands clutching her sword to her chest. She was wearing the armour she had died in, the reason she had worn it in fact; the only difference was that her helm was in place, the visor down to cover her face. She looked ready to do battle, as all good leaders should. As Din stepped up to the dais, he hoped he could follow her example.

He stopped before the throne and turned, though he did not sit down --- for he had not yet been crowned and was still only a Prince in the eyes of the world, despite his vows the day before -- and looked over the crowd. His magic thrummed through him, urging him to sit, but he resisted, determined to pass this test.

"The Witch King is dead," he said, projecting his voice so that all could hear. "Nu kyr'adyc, Shi taab,echaaj'la."

"Aay'han!" came the reply of a hundred voices as one.

Din briefly bowed his head in thanks, wishing he could be wearing the royal helm so he wouldn't have to struggle with keeping his emotions from showing on his face.

"Today we mark the end of Mand'alor the Beloved's reign, and we prepare for the beginning of her son's, long may he reign," Saruk cried, their voice booming in an enviable manner. "Let it be known that the Trials for the new Protector shall begin two weeks hence."

There was some muttering and shifting amongst the crowd, the excitement that had been carefully hidden away bubbling to the surface.

"The Witch King is dead," Din proclaimed again, bringing their attention back to where it should be. "Nu kyr'adyc, Shi taab,echaaj'la."

"Aay'han!"

He saw Cara in the sea of faces, the familiarity of it a balm to his battered nerves, and he set his shoulders.

"Today we send this Verd to her rest," he continued. "With fire shall she be revered. I shall light the flame.” He stepped forward, his magic building within him, but he pushed it down. Not yet.

“We shall carry her,” Saruk proclaimed, moving to one of the four corners of the stretcher. As she did, three others stepped forth from the crowd; the captain of the castle guard, a man still in his prime by the name of Veronar, moved to stand at the front right, next to Saruk’s position. A second man, Greef Karga, whom had served in the wars that Mandalor had faced at the Witch King’s side and acted as a close friend, took another corner. The third and last addition to the Protector was the Armourer, a woman of great mystery and even greater skill. She would be the one to forge Din’s royal helm, and there was none other whom he would trust with such a task.

As Din stepped around the body, he kept his eyes forward, the movement of the crowd only a blur as the guards moved into place around them and the doors opened.

The ward was lined with servants, each of them bearing their patches of red, and each and every one of them bowed as he passed. Most of them hadn’t the fabric or wages to spare for full garments, but a sash about the waist or around the neck was still a greater honour to the Prince than the pageantry he’d witnessed within the keep. There was one figure that wore more red than he’d expected though.

Cobb Vanth, the stable hand, was stood to the right, his shirt a deep burgundy and his scarf a bright blood red. He bowed, just as all others had, but not before Din had managed to catch his red rimmed eyes. The sight caught him by surprise, and it brought him a sense of comfort. He knew that the loss of his buir was a harsh blow to more than just himself, but he hadn’t seen it, not even in Saruk. He knew that it was what was expected, that they had to remain strong until they could pass on their duty to the next, but it still made him feel like he’d been grieving alone. To see tears in another’s eyes was a balm to his broken spirit.

The thought remained with him as he led the procession on, his pace slow as he walked out of the castle and up to the hill upon which a pyre had been prepared. The people had followed him, the old aided by the young, the rich alongside the poor, and as Mand’alor the Beloved was set upon her pire and he stood watch, many of them set items beside her. They set herbs, flowers and cloth. Carvings of animals and armour. Scrolls and stones. Din watched with some confusion as Cobb set a broken shovel handle against the bundles of kindling, but could tell its importance from the hesitant reluctance he bore at parting with it.

It was the moments like these that told him just how loved his mother had been by her people, and as the last of the gifts had been deposited, he drew himself tall one more time.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Kovra Djarin.”

With that, he drew upon the power within him, and set a spark in the dry kindling deep in the pyre.

The fire caught easily, the wood having been treated and readied especially for this moment, and soon Mand’alor the Beloved was consumed. The heat of it was intense, but it would be many hours yet before she was gone. It wouldn’t be until the embers were smouldering, as the sun was kissing the horizon, that Din would look up to see who had remained.

Each of the four pallbearers remained, stoic and staid at his sides. The guards, of course, were still stationed at their posts around them all to protect them, and Cara stood nearby. There were a few other nobles, though not many, and a small handful of smallfolk and servants, but across from him, fresh tears running down his cheeks as he stared into the embers and ashes, was Cobb Vanth.

——————————————————————

Mando'a Translations:

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum -- "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal"—Daily remembrance of those passed on, followed by the names of those being remembered

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la -- "Not gone, merely marching far away"—; Mandalorian phrase for the departed

aay'han -- bittersweet moment of mourning and joy; "remembering and celebration"

Verd -- warrior or soldier

Chapter 4

[darlingpeter]

grayscale.

the reader faces the aftermath of losing a close friend, and sweet boyfriend matt knows just how to get through to you when you need another perspective.

this fic is a labor of love. although this story is fictional, please know that you are never alone in the hardships that you are facing, and there is a wonderful community of people out there whose inboxes and messages are always open if you need advice, to vent, or just to get bad stuff off of your chest. you are worthy of love and the space and support that you need to heal. 

pairing: matt murdock x reader, best friend jessica jones x reader

warnings: reader is going through some emotional bad times

length: 2,405 words

Everyone knows that grief is an important part of life. As you grow, you lose people, and the lessons that you learn from it are necessary to truly appreciate what you have while you have it. 

But no one talks about how hard it is to grieve someone who hasn’t died. 

In the first stages, you found yourself getting absorbed in the what ifs, cycling over and over again in your head about things you could have done differently that would have changed their mind somehow and made them value you as much as you did them. Even worse was fighting the urge to reach back out to them in an attempt to rekindle something similar to what you had before. But the rational part of your brain constantly steered you away from that because how would that be possible? You couldn’t pretend to ignore everything bad that had come into light and keep a good conscience at the same time. A similar end would be inevitable, and it would hurt just the same if not more the second time around. 

Matt was aware of what you were going through. He listened as you poured your heart out to him, brought you water and tissues when you could do nothing but cry, and was there to make sure that you were taken care of. If he sensed a bit of hesitation in your voice if you asked him for anything, he would remind you in a gentle tone that made your heart flutter that he was there for you in any way that you needed. Over time, though, you closed off to him. You couldn’t help but feel like your emotional outbursts were an annoyance to him since he already had so much else to worry about outside the walls of your shared apartment. Unbeknownst to you, when you started changing the subject and brushing him off whenever he asked about how you were feeling, he knew that he was going to have to make a call to the one person he knew would be able to talk sense into you. 

The first time that he invited Jess and Luke over since things changed, you were initially wary of being forced to socially interact, but after you changed into clean, comfy clothes, had a shower, and actually got to be face-to-face with your best friends for the first time in far too long, you started to feel better than you had in a long time. 

Luke had taken control of a speaker that you had in the apartment, showing you and Matt a few new artists that he had been getting into, and with the way that Jess hummed and sang along to the lyrics, you knew that you weren’t the first to hear him gush about the new finds. You ordered Pizza and sat around shooting the shit with one another. 

When you popped into your room to grab an extra blanket, the sound of the door closing softly surprised you, and you turned to see Jess with a sympathetic smile on her face. Your mood soured. You had a feeling that she was going to want to talk to you with the comforting look in her eyes that she had been fixing you with since she had arrived with Luke. “Red told us that you had a bad falling out with a close friend. How’re you holding up, kid?” She asked and instinctively, you bristled. At this point you had been packing everything down and trying to avoid thinking about the situation altogether, which made it sour and turn to irritability where it sat within you. You scowled, annoyed at the fact that she wanted to stir up the difficult emotions that you had been working hard to hide. Seeing this, Jess raised both of her palms to face you in a surrendering gesture. “Easy, babe. I just want to make sure that everything’s alright.” She said softly.

Frustrated, you folded the blanket a couple of times in your hands. “It is.” You said shortly.

Jess frowned. “We both know that’s not true.” Sometimes you hated how easily she saw straight through you. She sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the spot next to her, inviting you to join. “He didn’t tell us the full story, but I know you, and I know from what he told me that I would be having a rough time, so I can’t imagine what you’re dealing with right now.” You take the spot next to her and lean into her side, letting out a deep exhale when she wrapped her arm around you and gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. When you relaxed into her after a moment, she knew that she had worn away the stubborn act that you put on. “I know that Matt isn’t the best when it comes to talking about feelings, and I want to give you the space that you might need to talk about things a little more in depth with someone that might be able to communicate a little better about understanding what you’re going through. Or you could just lay on me, which is cool too.” She finished with a small laugh.

For a moment, you considered just sitting in silence for a few moments before rejoining the group, but the longer that you sat against Jess, the bigger the knot in your chest grew until you were squeezing your eyes shut and fighting tears that were starting to well up. “I’m tired of being sad.” You said, hating how small and watery your voice sounded. “I wish I could forget everything about what happened so I could stop carrying around this weight with me.” 

And then you were crying. The more you tried to suppress it the stronger it came on, and the more your breath came in hiccups from your chest, so you stopped trying to hide it and instead opened the floodgates on your best friend. You told her the full story, about what caused the falling out and how hard it had been to adjust, as well as how angry you had been feeling with yourself for not being able to move past it. You told her about how you didn’t want to continually bother Matt so you had started to bottle things up. Even though you knew that it wasn’t the best way to deal with things, but you had hoped that in doing so, it would just pass over and make the whole ordeal easier. 

Jess listened to what you had to say, but also offered some advice. Because of how close the two of you were as well as how blunt and honest she was, Jess was the queen of getting through to you and telling you things that you didn’t want to hear.“The quickest way to get through this is to feel what you need to feel completely and wholly. By not tackling it head-on, no matter how much better it seems in the moment, it’ll eat at you and cause a lot more hurt over time.” This stung, mostly because you knew that she was right. You had been able to witness a small taste of what she was talking about already, and the thought that the bitterness you had been feeling had the potential to grow and have the chance to cause outbursts that could push the people you loved away. You nodded as she gave your shoulder a squeeze. 

“But I don’t want to feel like I’m burdening Matt with my problems.” You whined, digging the heels of your hands into your damp eyes and rubbing at them in exasperation. “I’m scared he’ll start avoiding me because he doesn’t want to hear me complain about my garbage when there’s nothing that he can do.”

To your surprise, Jess barked out a laugh, and you looked up at her with a glare. “Were you not just telling me how he was going total mama-bird over you when things were bad?” You deflated and shrugged, caught by your own words. “Just because you’re the only one who can work through this in your own brain doesn’t mean that you’re struggling alone. We’re all gonna support you in the ways that we know how. And if you’re worrying about the way that Matt is doing it, maybe that’s something that you should talk to him about and make sure that you’re getting the support that you need and that he’s not feeling burned out.”

Nodding, you let her advice sit with you as you leaned against her, letting her hug you from the side while you listened to Matt and Luke’s music muffled through the bedroom door. When you finally straightened up and let her arm fall from your side, Jess gave you a supportive look. “Feeling ok?” She asked.

“A lot better.” You responded, which made Jess give a little cheer that made you smile. “Thank you for… everything.” You said, unsure how to put into words your gratitude for making the effort to get through to you when you were so resistant off of the bat.

She bumped you with her shoulder with a playful grin. “Of course, kid. I’ve always got you. Now let’s go make sure those two haven’t finished off the pizza or torn the place up to bad out there, yeah?” 

Grabbing the blanket from where you had put it down and following Jess back into the main living area feeling much lighter. 

~

After the night that Jess and Luke stopped by, things started to feel like they were getting better. Her advice made you feel like you could dig yourself out of the hole that you found yourself in. You were able to sit down with Matt and express the things that you were worried about, and with that line of communication opened up, you felt free to check in with him when you were concerned that he was being overloaded. Fortunately, after that chat, you were able to go about life more freely than you felt you had been able to in weeks, and after a few weeks you were able to look a short ways into the past and be proud of how far you had come.

However, your good mood unfortunately broke. 

Out of nowhere one morning, you woke up under a wave of depression. You tried to get up and go about things as usual, but disinterested and suddenly exhausted, you ended up back in bed curled in on yourself. After what felt like hours of drifting in and out of sleep and checking your phone, you heard the door open, and you looked to see Matt poke his head into the room. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

At the sound of his voice, tears started welling up in your eyes and you blinked hard to try and keep them from falling. You made a sound of acknowledgement that came out more like a whimper, and his eyes widened, his brow furrowing in concern as he stepped fully into the room. “Oh no,” he cooed softly, padding across the floor to the bed. “No, no, no.” He climbed under the covers on the empty side of the bed facing you.“Talk to me.” He hummed, delicately thumbing away a tear from your cheek.

You almost didn’t want to tell him why you were sad. You had been doing so well! You didn’t want him to pity you for not being able to get over the loss, but you know that if you made up a lie on the spot that he would be able to tell, so you took a steadying breath. Damn his senses. 

“I don’t know why it hit me like this again.” You told him, trying hard to keep your voice steady. “I thought I was done with this.” 

At the admission, your face grew hot with shame and you sniffled, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Hey, hey, none of that.” Matt murmured, pulling you into his arms. You buried your face in his chest and took hold of his t-shirt, taking in the scent of the cotton and his laundry detergent and grounding yourself in it to keep your mind from spiraling further down. 

“I’m embarrassed.” You whispered, and Matt shushed you, removing your hand from his shirt so that he could raise it to his mouth and press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I know that it’s hard to feel like you’ve made progress only to be set back, but dealing with grief is never a linear process.” He told you, brushing some of your hair back from your face. “Things like this take time, and bad days will happen even after things have been good for a while. But I promise you that things will get better, and that these reminders will start to sting a lot less as it goes on.”

It was silent as you lied together, him listening to your heartbeat return to normal, and you thinking about what he had said while your tears dried. When you finally made a move to get up, Matt’s arm around your waist tensed as he held onto you and kept you from budging. You were only able to let out a confused sound before he took your jaw in his free hand and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You raised your hands to his stubbly cheeks, and he leaned into your touch, a look in his eyes that was reassuring. “What was that for?” You asked.

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his face as he ran a calloused thumb across your bottom lip. “I just wanted to know you were smiling.” 

That you were. For the first time all day, you felt almost giddy as you giggled, pressing a quick peck to his smiling mouth. “You’re so soft.” You teased, climbing out from under the covers and stretching. 

“Just for you.” He replied, swinging his legs over the side and following your lead. When he got close, you stepped forward and wrapped him in a proper hug. You squeezed him, trying to find the right words to thank him, but with the way that he squeezed you back, you knew that you didn’t need to say anything at all. “You’ve got this, sweetheart.” He said quietly.

And for the first time in a while, you full-heartedly believed it.

~

masterlist

a/n: hello wonderful people! i’m back to classes and with structure comes more ways to work writing into my schedule! i’m working on a couple of wips right now, but my inbox and messages are open to new requests if you’re interested in dropping me something! 

any feedback is appreciated as always!! thank you so much for taking the time to read my work, and every note this gets makes my day! :-)

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