#it was unintentional but it is what it is

[likeumeanit9497]

i know you know | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: after a night at a party, matt hears his best friend sleeping with someone. the memory of it overtakes him all the next day, and he can't get it off his mind. but what happens when it turns out that she wanted him to hear all along?

warnings: SMUT (holy fuck this is smutty); established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); unprotected p in v (don't do this); absolutely filthy talk; voyeurism vibes; switch!matt; mentions of alcohol; 18+

notes: guys i fear i might have just written my new fave one shot. i warned y'all that i only have matt ideas rn, but this one is SO GOOD i had to post immediately. i normally don't go feral for my own writing but this one made me get up and do a few laps around the house tbh. i hope y'all like it as much as i liked writing it LOVE U LOVE U LOVE U MUAH

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“Matt?” You called his name as you began climbing up his front steps. “Hey, I’m doing laundry.” His voice rang through the house, and as you entered the empty kitchen you saw his back in the hallway as he folded a pair of jeans and placed them on the neat pile of clean laundry stacked on top of the washing machine. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment half in greeting and half to help ease the pounding in your heavy head.

“Last night almost killed me. How are you feeling?” You asked him, lifting your head off of his shoulder so that he could face you. His eyes were tired, his hair was a mess, but there was a slight glint of curiosity in his eyes that caught you off guard. After staring at you for a moment too long, he replied. “I feel alright. Slept most of the day though.” You released a soft laugh.

Last night, you and Matt went to a big party for one of your mutual friends. What was supposed to be an early night — both of you agreeing to show face for an hour and then head home — turned into one filled with dancing, too much tequila, and a night spent on the couch of the host for you both. Once you were both sober in the morning, Matt drove you home and you both tended to your own hangovers for the rest of the day. Now it was Sunday evening, and you two decided to spend it watching a movie and eating shitty food.

“Same here,” You replied, “I literally rolled out of bed 30 minutes ago. You’re lucky I even had enough energy to drive over here.” You leaned against the running dryer, and watched as one of Matt’s eyebrows arched as he continued folding clothes. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He replied, a smile threatening to creep over his mouth. Noticing the knowing tone in his voice, you grew confused.

What you didn’t know, was that Matt knew that it wasn’t just the two of you who had spent the night on that sectional couch. He had noticed you spending a lot of time with Carrington, a good friend of the host. He watched the two of you throughout the night — he saw you touch him any chance you got; saw you dance on him once you got really drunk; and most definitely saw you press your lips to his at the end of the night. So, late last night as he tried his best to sleep, when he heard the creek of the stairs and felt the dip in the couch, he knew that Carrington had laid down with you. That was confirmed when he heard the soft whispers that you two shared before the sound of wet kisses filled the dark room. A moment later, he laid as still as he could as he felt the couch begin to move in a rhythm that could only mean one thing.

Although you and Matt had the type of strong friendship where you both felt comfortable telling the other about your sex lives, never before had either of you been so close in proximity to the act itself. Although he was facing the opposite direction, Matt knew that your feet were only centimetres from his head, and the thought of invading your privacy like this, albeit unintentional, made his cheeks flush red. Even in his belligerent state, Matt had been shocked, and he considered making the fact that he was still awake known. Until he heard it.

Your soft moans floated like music in his mind, and they were unlike anything he had heard before. They were angelic, breathless; as if the air was being pushed out of your lungs involuntarily to create the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The heat that he felt in his cheeks immediately began travelling down his body, right to his growing member. And then, the unmistakable wet sounds of your arousal — surely dripping from you not more than two feet away from his ear — caused his head to spin. The two sounds radiating from you created the perfect harmony, and they made his cock press excruciatingly against his stomach; desperate for some relief.

The movement of the couch — and with it, your moans and wetness — increased in speed. As it did, your soft voice, so familiar and divine, whispered into the quiet room, “I’m gonna cum!” Matt pressed his pelvis into the couch, doing his best to relieve some of the pressure he felt in the tip of his cock. As your moans got louder, his heart pounded faster. Suddenly, as you reached your orgasm and began riding the waves, he felt one of your feet lightly graze his bare back. Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin, and the slight contact in combination with everything he heard was so intense that he thought he was going to cum all over himself.

But just then, the room grew painfully silent once again. After some time, the indistinguishable whispering returned, then the sound of one quick kiss, and finally, the creaking sound of the stairs. You two were alone once again, and in the silence Matt began to question whether or not he had dreamt it all. That was, until he heard your soft voice whisper his name. Immediately, he felt his body react, but stayed as still as possible so that you would think he was asleep. He seemed to do a good enough job, as after not getting a response, you slowly got off the bed and walked to the bathroom.

Once he heard the door click shut, his eyes shot open. The air was filled with the addictive smell of sex, and his cock had grown so hard that it was throbbing. Tentatively, he ran his hand along his shaft still in his boxers and had to stifle a guttural moan from the brief contact. No, he couldn’t do this here. Not when you were in the next room able to walk back through the door at any moment. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep. He would just have to try to get to sleep, and deal with his spiralling brain tomorrow.

Well, now it was tomorrow, and he had spent the entire day thinking about it. When he had woken up to your smiling face asking for a ride home, he had felt riddled with guilt; as if he had taken advantage of you. The guilt was only exemplified when, once he was alone, he had spent every minute thinking about it; his dick growing hard every time he heard your moans in the back of his mind. Even as he slept the day away, he had dreams about it and had even woken himself up by grinding his hips against his mattress. It had been driving him crazy, and now you were standing in front of him, seemingly oblivious to everything that had been running through his mind, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Hello? Earth to Matt?” Your voice pulled him out of his train of thought, and immediately his cheeks flushed when he realized that he had been completely zoned out for god knows how long. “Oh, uh, sorry.” He mumbled, folding the shirt he had in his hands. “You’ve deadass folded and re-folded that shirt like five times. Are you okay?” You asked, concern etched across your face. Gulping, Matt nodded his head. “Shit really? Must be the brain fog.” He forced out a laugh that sounded painful to his own ears, but it seemed to be convincing enough for you, as you once again relaxed against the dryer.

Matt’s focus went back to the pile of clothes in front of him, and as he began organizing the pile of socks, he heard what he had been reimagining over and over again in his mind. That now achingly familiar soft moan of yours. His whole body jolted in shock, the sound much more vivid than it had been in his memory. Slowly, his eyes were pulled from the laundry to your face, and he found your eyes shut in ecstasy as you leaned against the running dryer. His jaw almost dropped at the sight, and his cock, already having been on high alert all day, immediately responded.

“This feels so good.” You whispered, just as you had the night before, and Matt had to brace himself against the washing machine to stay upright. Your eyes were still closed, a small smile crept onto your full lips, and in that moment it all became too much for him. His cock was pulsing in rhythm with his rapid heartbeat, and as you released another small moan and bit your bottom lip, he began to wonder if maybe — just maybe — you had wanted him to hear you last night.

His hunch grew stronger and stronger as he continued to take in your expression with your back pressed against the dryer, and he felt the shame strip off of him as your hooded eyes finally opened slowly. They landed on his dilated eyes and slowly trailed down to the impressive bulge in his pants. Looking back up at his flushed face, you couldn’t help but smile shamelessly. Because he had been right.

It hadn’t been planned, of course, but once Carrington pushed himself into you, the thought of Matt being just on the other side of the couch filled you with a new and unfamiliar level of arousal. So as you moaned, you hoped that he would hear it. The thought of him listening caused you to grow more wet than you ever had before, and it didn’t take long for you to finish. As you came, you purposefully brushed your foot against him; trying to let him know that it was him you were thinking about as you unraveled.

You hadn’t been sure that he heard you, after all when you whispered his name he hadn’t answered, but the way he had been acting since you arrived at his house today — zoning out, avoiding eye contact, and seeming extremely flustered — you know that he knows. And knowing the effect it had on him, you want him to do something about it.

Matt watched as you put both hands on the dryer before hoisting yourself up to sit on it. With the dryer running, the vibration that came from it shot right to your core, and subconsciously your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Matt watched, completely stunned, as you pleasured yourself on top of the dryer. He was in such a state of shock that he wasn’t even sure if this was real life. You rolled your hips once, twice, against the machine, and then suddenly your eyes were on him again. The pleasure you were experiencing was etched into your face — your full lips a dark shade of red, dark eyebrows knit together, pink cheeks flushed — and it drove him crazy. But it wasn’t until your lips turned up in a small smile and you grabbed his arm, pulling him towards you, that he was finally able to move.

“You heard me last night, didn’t you.” You finally regarded the elephant in the room, and watched as his eyes bulged slightly in surprise at your knowing gaze. Very slightly, he nodded his head; his eyes were planted on your lips. “Should we talk about it?” You asked, dragging your fingertips up and down his torso slowly; feeling his stomach tense each time you reached below his belly button. Still hypnotized by your lips, Matt placed his hands on each side of your face before shaking his head no.

Without hesitation, he engulfed your mouth with his own. They moved with a quivering desperation that can’t be sufficiently described with words. His hands ran through your hair, pulling you as close to him as he could. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, gasping at the feeling of his rock hard member pressing against your aching core. It seemed to affect him too, because as soon as they made contact a small grunt fell from his lips and landed on yours.

Matt’s hands eventually moved from your hair and snaked down to your waist, where he quickly pulled your loose-fitting sundress up and exposed your bare tits. You watched as he took a moment to admire their fullness before bringing his mouth to one. He nibbled and sucked on your sensitive nipple, shooting rays of pleasure down your spine. As he moved his mouth to your second tit, he gripped harshly onto your hips. With his grasp, he expertly titled your pelvis in such a way where your cunt was pressed directly against the dryer; causing moans to spill from your mouth from the vibration.

As he helped you roll your hips against the warm metal, he struggled to keep his composure as he heard you moan for himfor the first time. Just like last night, they were soft and breathy, as if you didn’t even notice them falling from your lips. But his ears caught every single one, and they drove him crazier each time. Looking down to where your body connected with the machine, his vision grew blurry as he noticed the fluid that had accumulated on top of the dryer; the same fluid that he had heard last night. “Mmm, so wet already?” He managed to purr in your ear, causing you to shudder in pleasure.

You nodded, letting your head fall back as the pleasure intensified by his words. “F-for you Matt— fuck! — all f-for you.” At your words, Matt stopped all of his movements, afraid that he would fall apart in seconds if you kept speaking like that. Looking up at your disoriented face, he noticed that the loss of friction was making you antsy. You hooked a small finger in his chain and pulled his lips to yours; kissing him deeply as his tongue swiped against your teeth begging for entrance. You pulled away, needing more than a kiss, and watched in awe as Matt read your mind and dropped to his knees in front of you. He brought his hands up to your hips where he grabbed onto the sides of your thong, slowly sliding it down your legs.

You watched, chest heaving, as he tossed your discarded thong into his pile of laundry that still needed to be washed without letting his eyes leave your dripping core. His eyes on you like this was exactly what you imagined as you thought of him last night, and the neediness in his blue eyes threw you into an erotic frenzy. He grabbed both of your legs and, after stroking them thoughtlessly for a few seconds, placed them on both of his shoulders. Eyes flittering between your core and your face, he spoke, “Need a taste.” His voice was gruff with arousal, and you responded by lacing your hands through his hair and pushing his beautiful face in between your legs.

As soon as his tongue ran up your slit to collect your arousal, he lost any hint of sanity that he still had. You were so sweet against his tastebuds, and so soft against his lips, it took everything out of him to not cream his pants. Instead, he effortlessly found your aching clit and began sucking and kissing the sensitive bundle of nerves. Already stimulated by the dryer, you felt yourself melt under the pressure of his tongue. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning against you, causing the vibration to echo through your entire body. You mindlessly began grinding yourself against his face, chasing a high so intense that nothing else seemed to matter.

Matt relished in the feeling of suffocating by you, and used his hands to spread you apart. He pulled away for a brief moment to take a look at you stretched open for him, and the sight of your dripping hole — begging, without words, to be filled — made him want to pull his cock out and slam it into you immediately. But no, he was going to savour this. So instead, he spit onto your cunt and began tongue fucking your hole. As he eagerly drank up all your juices, his tongue moving in and out of you quickly, you lost the ability to stifle your moans.

Even though he knew you were getting too loud — after all, Nick and Chris were somewhere in the house — Matt couldn’t get himself to shut you up. The sounds that fell from your lips were like music to his ears, and he wanted to listen to them forever. Besides, how could he tell you that you were being too loud when he was making all sorts of erotic noises with his mouth against your cunt?

Your head fell back against the dryer, it wouldn’t be long until you came. The build up was so intense, so good, that you almost didn’t want it to end. Plus, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Matt’s poor cock, suffocating in his pants. As you imagined it, veiny and dark red at the tip, your mouth began to water. After coming back from the washroom and getting back on the couch last night, you glanced at Matt’s still frame and wondered if — even subconsciously, if he hadbeen sleeping — his body had reacted to what had happened. Your suspicion was furthered the next morning. When you went to wake him up to ask if he could drive you home, the blanket had slipped off of his lower body and exposed the imprint of his hardened cock; and your mouth watered. Since then, you had fantasized about taking all of him in your mouth as an apology for not helping him out that morning.

These thoughts raced through your bleary mind, and the pressure continued to increase in your lower stomach at Matt’s relentless tongue in between your legs. You wanted to cum, badly, but even more than that you wanted to get a taste of him. Just the thought of his warm cock in your throat caused your back to arch and a moan to slip from your lips, so in a frenzy you grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth from your core. Cool air quickly replaced his warm tongue, and you cringed at the loss of contact. Matt looked up at you, his eyes hooded in contentment and his lips and chin coated with your arousal. “What’s wrong?” He asked, taking in your expression.

Without saying anything, you turned your body so that you were now facing the wall behind the dryer. Carefully, you lowered your torso so that you were now laying against the machine, legs bent and facing away from Matt; your view now being his frame upside down. Confused, Matt took a few steps back so that he could look at your face. You lock eyes with him, and he chuckles softly. “What are you doing?” His voice is still deeper than usual, and your view of his bulge makes it clear that he is in desperate need of you. “Want you to fuck my throat.” You replied simply, watching as his eyes darken in arousal while his eyebrows knit together in relief.

Without hesitation, Matt begins frantically removing his grey sweatpants. His cock has been achingly hard since last night with little to no relief, and your words shot straight to it. The filthy talk falling from your lips was still so foreign to him, but that unfamiliarity was addicting. He pulled his boxers down and finally freed his cock from its restraint, and even the feeling of it slapping his stomach on release was enough to make him shudder in pleasure.

As soon as your eyes fell to his exposed cock, your mouth watered. It was so perfect, so plump, you couldn’t wait to wrap your lips around it. As he took a step forward, you impatiently opened your mouth wide; not wanting to wait another second. Luckily, the feeling was mutual, and after tapping your mouth with his cock twice, he slides just the tip in. Already, the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him causes him to see stars, and he doesn’t even move for a few moments as you swirl your tongue around his tip. You find the bead of pre-cum dripping from his slit, and lap it up indulgently.

You want more of him, so in a desperate act you begin trying to bob your head while upside down in order to travel down his shaft. Your desperation gets to Matt, and, recognizing that you want more of him, he begins thrusting his hips slowly into your mouth. Even with only half of him in your mouth, you can feel his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and all it does is make you want more. You wrap your lips as tightly as you can around his girth, and the hushed groans that fall from his lips tell you that he’s enjoying himself.

You begin to grow frustrated, not content with the fact that you haven’t had all of him in your mouth yet. So you reach up and grab firmly on his hips, opening your throat to allow his entire length access as you pushed him forward. Matt hissed, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock sinking deeper into your throat, and that was when he lost all control.

Matt grabbed onto the sides of your neck to brace himself before finally driving his cock all the way down your throat. He started slow, sliding it all the way down, holding it in place for a moment, and then pulling it nearly all the way out before doing it all over again; but once he realized that not only could you take all of him, but that you also enjoyed it, he started picking up the pace. He watched your throat as he fucked it, and noticed that he could actually see his cock going all the way down it; causing his vision to go blurry. “Fuck, baby.” He moaned out, his voice shaky as he struggled to not lose himself.

You were in heaven, the feeling of his cock filling your throat caused your body to flood with heat, and you couldn’t stop your hand from finding your clit and rubbing it in rhythm with Matt’s thrusts. Noticing your hand, Matt quickly swatted it away before replacing it with his own; the softness of your wet cunt enough to cause his cock to twitch; threatening to shoot his seed down your throat. But he didn’t want to cum; not until he felt all of you.

In the blink of an eye, he pulled his dripping cock out of your throat; causing you to gasp for air. Before you had the chance to question anything, he grabbed you under your arms and pulled you off of the dryer before slamming you against the wall in the hallway. The wind was knocked out of you, but Matt didn’t give you a minute to recover before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist; keeping you pressed to the wall. His mouth found yours again, and the taste of you on his explorative tongue was enticing. With his mouth still on yours, the tip of Matt’s cock practically finds your opening itself, and it was so hard he didn’t even have to stabilize it with his hand before it slipped into you; stretching your walls and filling you up completely.

As soon as he bottomed out, he released a deep, guttural moan that echoed in your ears. Fighting a moan of your own, you grabbed the back of his neck. “Shh!” You whispered, looking into his eyes through droopy eyelashes. He snapped his cock into you. “You didn’t seem too concerned with staying quiet last night.” Matt’s words were strained as he tried to control his thrusts. Still looking at him in the eyes, a sinister smile crosses your face at him actually wanting to talk about last night for the first time.

He picked up on the reasoning behind your smile, and he snapped his hips again; causing you to yelp. “So you did want me to hear, hmm?” His head moved to the crook of your neck, and his lips against your ear caused goosebumps to raise on your skin. As he thrusted into you, all you could do was nod. “Do you know — ah fuck — do you know how bad my cock has been aching for you all day?” His words caused the pressure in your stomach to triple, and the thought of him being desperate to be inside of you caused your back to arch against the wall.

“M-made me feel like a creep all day, and for what? Hmm?” Matt grabbed your jaw and made you face him. He continued driving himself into you as he stared lustfully at your face. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip and you opened your mouth; letting his thumb fall in before wrapping your lips around it and sucking innocently. “Fuck baby,” He grumbled, watching your lips as your tongue swirled around his thumb. “Tell me.” His eyes were pleading with you, and you knew he was close, but he wasn’t gonna cum until you told him the truth. “W-wanted you to k-know what it’s l-like — fucking me. Wanted y-your cock h-hard for me.” You managed to tell him the truth. “Jesus Christ.” Matt moaned out in response, grabbing the base of your hair before slamming his cock in and out of you faster than he had before. Each time his cock hit your g-spot, your head slammed against the wall behind you; adding a new intensity to the fast-approaching orgasm you were feeling.

“Shit, gonna cum. Where do you want me?” His voice was ragged, as was his pace, and the desperation laced throughout the sloppiness drew you even closer to the edge. “As deep as you can get Matty.” You whispered in his ear just before you were overtaken by your own orgasm. As he continued to thrust into you, you felt your walls convulse around his girth. Your legs wrapped even tighter around his waist, toes curling as the waves of your orgasm crashed around you.

As you were still in the middle of cumming all over him, Matt suddenly snapped his cock hard and deep into you; spilling his seed deep in your guts, just like you asked, as a deep ragged moan fell from his mouth. Your hungry cunt milked his dick dry, and the intensity of filling you up with the nut that had been debilitating him all day was like no other orgasm he had ever experienced.

You could feel his cock twitch repeatedly as he filled your insides with his hot white cum, and his soft moans of pure relief in your ear were as continuous as your own as you both fell into a deep trance. As you both came down from your highs, Matt held you against the wall; brushing his fingertips softly against the skin on your upper thigh. You had never had sex so satisfying, so deliciously exhausting, and you were in such a haze that you could have easily fallen asleep right there, pressed against the wall.

But after a few moments, Matt carefully slid his shaft out of you and helped you to your feet. He took a moment to admire you, fixing your hair and pulling down your dress, before leading you to his washroom. “You’re a little psycho, you know that right?” He asked jokingly as he started the shower. You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection; evidence of Matt’s touch all over you. You smiled at him as he helped you take off your dress. “I’m sorry.” You replied, to which he rolled his eyes. “No you’re not. But do me a favour, next time you want me to fuck you, just tell me, alright?”

Your stomach did an excited flip from his unexpected words, and you walked into the shower on shaky legs. Turning around to face him standing by the washroom door, you found him staring indulgently at your naked frame. You put your hands on your hips and huffed dramatically. “Okay, get in here. I want you to fuck me.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

you never knew how much i really liked you - s. crosby

summary: 'In truth, it wasn’t nothing – it was never nothing with Sid. It was always something, and usually it hurt. The timings; what wasn’t said; the history. There was more to the two of you than what even Nate and Taylor knew of – not even when they seemed to stop breathing when you admitted what it could be.'

warnings: sid x f!reader (ex-hockey player), swearing, miscommunication trope, mentions of the consumption of alcohol, bonus point if you spot the unintentional olivia rodrigo lyric, mentions of food aversion (in relation to illness & hints at anxiety), passing mentions of someone potentially having alcohol poisoning, confrontation

< a/n: the ending is abrupt but i can't be arsed changing it! sorry! ALSO: IT'S PENS PRE-SEASON DAY!! >

word count: 13k

 There was a chair, this time. They’d never been a chair there before, ever. You’d been to this house and you’d sat on the end of the deck with your feet hanging over the edge countless times in the last decade or so, but there had never been a chair there before, at least not one that didn’t have to be dragged from inside and unfolded. 

It didn’t particularly strike you as odd or anything, but it did stop you in your tracks at the top of the deck, and you did try to see if you could see him through the windows of his house, but it was early so the sun only reflected against the glass panes, completely blocking your view. But you’d seen his car in the driveway, and you knew he’d be up – probably eating his breakfast or in the gym already.

You gripped your book a little tighter, making your way towards the end of the pontoon and assessing the chair with your own eyes. You almost laughed at the blanket draped across the back of it, but it didn’t stop you from picking it up and covering yourself with it after you got settled.

It was a lovely morning, it always was here, and it was partly why you loved arriving earlier: there was something about the crispness of the sun in the morning and the rawness of the view. It wasn’t one you could ever imagine getting tired of. The water was gorgeous, the trees were gorgeous, the sky was gorgeous, the birds were gorgeous. As usual, it took you a while to work yourself up to actually pick up your book and tear your attention away from the view.

It was a muffled bark that finally did it, your fingers absent-mindedly playing with the pages of the book, and you turned to peer around the side of the chair, a golden labrador bounding down the pontoon, tongue lolling out and ears flapping as she did. You grinned, sitting forward in the chair and anticipating Sam to stop right in front of you, her tail wagging ferociously as you scratched behind her ears.

“Good morning to you, too.” You muttered, clenching your jaw and stroking her fur as she collapsed to lay at your feet, her belly exposed for you to scratch, “Where’s Sid?” At the mention of his name, Sam’s ears perked up and she barked, her head turning to something behind you, “Is he walking down now?” You didn’t turn around, instead focusing your attention entirely on the pup in front of you – until the pair of footsteps echoing against the wood became too noticeable to ignore.

The sun was still blinding from reflecting off the patio doors, but the silhouette of Sid was nearly impossible to ignore, more so when he was effortlessly carrying another chair in one arm and a travel flask with two cups balanced on the lid in the other.

You shielded your eyes with your hand, about to get up to help him in some way, but he shook his head adamantly, “I got it. Here.” He passed you the mug with the cups, and you sat silently, watching him unfold the chair (it looked a lot less comfortable than the one he’d set out for you, though you didn’t comment on it) and settled himself in.

“Morning.” You greeted, passing him one cup before unscrewing the lid and sniffing.

“Morning.” He replied, grinning, “It’s decaf, by the way.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, “Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“Are you sure you wanna put this in your body this early?” You asked, taking his cup from him and pouring out the steaming coffee. It warmed your hands nicely through the plastic, and you snuck a look at him out of the corner of your eye. He was sitting comfortably, a little lower than you because of the height of his chair, and he was watching you carefully, completely unashamed at having been caught in the act. His grin did seem to melt into one more bashful, and he looked out across the water, blinking in the light.

“I feel like I’m gonna need it to get through today.” He answered, gently taking his cup from your hand, fingertips brushing delicately against yours.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be pretty hectic.” You agreed, placing the flask on the floor, giving Sam a quick pat before sipping on your own coffee, your book tucked under your chair. You had a feeling you weren’t going to get much reading done now anyway, not when Sid had decided to join you.

You both leaned back in your chairs, the blanket tucked around your waist, and nothing was said for around ten minutes. Nothing needed to be said. Even Sam seemed to get that message; she was curled up at both your feet, her head turned in the direction of the water. Every so often she’d perk up, maybe when a bird flew overhead or when she heard something in the woodland, but she’d always end up placing her head back down on the wooden beams, bathing in the sun.

“This is always my favourite week of the entire year.” You admitted a little shyly. It wasn’t something you were afraid of saying out loud, per se, but you’d known Sid for years. He was the one that started the week-long camp for the kids in Cole Harbour, and for some reason admitting that it was his creation that you always looked forward to the most was a little daunting.

He didn’t seem to think so, but he couldn’t quite keep the shock off his face when he registered what it was you’d said.

“It is?” 

You nodded, “Is that sad? I feel like it is.”

He shook his head, “Nah, it’s not sad at all.”

If it had been anyone else that had admitted that, Sid might have teased a little – or if you’d said something else altogether, but almost as soon as you’d thrown those words out there he felt a twinge of empathy for you. To have played hockey with each other most of your youth…you’d obviously stopped playing against and with boys at a certain age because of the regulations, but you’d managed to secure a spot on a local girl’s team and eventually you’d gone on to play at college. And by the time graduation came around, you had your degree, sure, but there was no women’s hockey league to play for, not one you could live comfortably off anyway.

Sid had often tried to put himself in your shoes…it killed him every time, like getting stabbed in the chest. Only, when you said that, the knife twisted and was pulled out, and he swore his heart broke a little. To have the skill and the talent to play professionally, but no league to play in was his worst nightmare.

To not have hockey, to him, was to not live and breathe. If he didn’t have hockey, he couldn’t even imagine what he’d be doing right now.

You just hummed, clearly not believing him, and he inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to give you a reassuring touch. He was about to say something, but you turned to look at him sharply, an odd expression on your face.

“What?” He found himself asking, taking a self-conscious sip of the coffee to hide his face.

Your eyes narrowed, and a small smile curled at your lips, “Aren’t you gonna make a comment about ‘wow, you must really miss me, huh?’, or–”

“I don’t sound like that.” He shook his head, managing a tight smile. You were trying to cover a wound that had scarred over the years by switching the subject, but Sid could only muster a forced laugh and a curious glance in your direction, “Did you miss me, though?”

There was a brief moment where he thought you’d play his question off and pretend you hadn’t heard him, and in that brief moment there were a few things that happened to him: his heart seemed to pound and drop to his feet at the same time; he realised that if you didn’t miss him he wasn’t quite sure what else to do, and regret. The regret was anticipatory, though, of you ignoring him.

And it also seemed to dissolve completely when you answered: “Yeah. Not as much as I used to, though.”

Sid swallowed, picking at his navy joggers. Instead of regret, it was guilt that ate away at him – for something he couldn’t even control.

“What do you mean?” His mouth felt dry, and his grip on the cup tightened.

You turned to look at him, shrugging hopelessly, “That first year without you was just a lot to adjust to, that’s all.”

“It was?”

Something on your face seemed to flicker; your brows twitched downwards and any trace of happiness that was previously written on your face was suddenly no longer visible. Your head tilted, and you stuttered, clearly not quite knowing what to say or where to start.

“I…” You trailed off, and Sid felt the beginnings of dread begin to creep up his stomach and settle there like a pebble, “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

He shook his head, jaw clenching. You looked inexplicably sad at his reply, and turned to fix your eyes on the water in front of you, a sip of scalding coffee seemingly hinting at wanting to end the conversation.

But Sid wasn’t quite done, not yet. His first year in the NHL: he remembered it pretty clearly, and he also remembered that neither of you were that good at keeping in touch with each other. You were on the other side of the country in California for college, and he was mainly in Pittsburgh, but nearly everywhere. Moving out of Nova Scotia was a big thing for both of you, but having lived next door to each other for your entire childhood and having played on the same team as little kids? That first year was difficult.

“Did something happen?” He asked, voice a little frailer than he’d liked to have conveyed – so much so that even Sam’s ears seemed to prick at the slight twinge in pitch.

You shook your head, sighing deeply, “I just kind of had the sense that I was never gonna see you again those first few months, that’s all. I psyched myself out…it’s fine now, though.”

***

“Is Sid okay?” Taylor sidled up to you on the edge of the group of kids listening intently to the man in question, skates scratching to a stop as she murmured the question in your ear.

You felt your brows pinch, your gloved hands resting on the top of your stick hiding your mouth as you turned to her, “As far as I’m aware.”

He looked okay from where you were standing: the very picture of effortless leadership as he explained the next game to the group of kids all staring up at him intently, some with dropped jaws and some with frowns of concentration etched on their features. They were all wearing monochrome jerseys and the overhead lights were reflecting off their helmets. Not a single one wasn’t watching Sid talk.

His voice wasn’t wavering, and he was giving the kids his entire attention – devoted as usual to his sport…so?

“Why?” You raised a brow, looking at Taylor out of the corner of your eye.

Her mouth was pulled down at the corners, and she shrugged offhandedly, “I dunno, he just seems a bit off today.”

Yeah, okay. You turned your attention back to him, trying to commit every little motion of his hand to memory, intently keeping an eye out for any trembling or straying of his attention. It must have been another fifteen seconds before you sighed, turning back to Taylor, who was regarding you with an air of amusement, a sly smile hiding on her face.

“What?” You asked, feeling as though she was looking right through you.

“Nothing.” Then, after a pause, “Did he drive you over here?” 

You hummed, nodding, but your mind was stuck replaying and analysing what she’d previously said, “What did you mean by ‘off’?”

“What’s up with Sid?” 

Your heart thundered in shock, not having anticipated Nate to shuffle over to your other shoulder. His voice in your ear was jarring, but still as soft as yours and Taylor’s had been, not wanting to disrupt the talk at the front of the group.

“What do you mean?”

“Three guesses.” 

You and Taylor spoke up at the same time, and when you turned to look at her she was glaring at you rather pointedly, and Nate whistled lowly in your ear, a deep laugh shaking his ribs.

“No way, what did you say to him?” Nate asked, half-giggling, and you sighed, getting slightly infuriated by the lack of real answers and use of cryptic mutters that had you no closer to figuring out exactly just what they were on about.

A part of you was losing your cool a bit because you liked to think you knew Sid pretty well; in fact, you did know him pretty well. It was why you couldn’t possibly fathom another two minutes in the presence of these two without getting an answer, because he’d been like this since…

Oh.

Nate’s laughter immediately halted, and Taylor leaned forward, the two of them sharing a cautious look at the way you seemed to wince.

“What?” They chorused, the combination of their voices causing a few heads to turn in your direction, and you ducked your head, adjusting your skates as an excuse not to draw even more attention to yourself.

After a nudge in the elbow, you lifted your head up. 

There was no way that was what was causing him to be more distracted than usual. It wasn’t even a big deal or anything, and it certainly wasn’t a secret – you thought he knew, that wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t like he’d actually done anything all those years ago, either. That first year was almost radio silence on both ends, and you were honestly glad that wasn’t the case now.

But, still? No way.

“It’s not much, I don’t even think it could be what I’m thinking anyway.” You shook your head, watching him.

“What’re you thinking?” Taylor whispered, the lip of her cap catching you in the cheek with how close she’d shuffled.

You recoiled slightly, “It’s genuinely nothing. He just apparently didn’t know that I missed him the first year.” Your voice trailed off weakly, “Nothing.”

In truth, it wasn’t nothing – it was never nothing with Sid. It was always something, and usually it hurt. The timings; what wasn’t said; the history. There was more to the two of you than what even Nate and Taylor knew of – not even when they seemed to stop breathing when you admitted what it could be.

There were weeks and months and years where you didn’t talk much, mostly due to the distance and the clashing of schedules, but there was a lull that you’d both managed to keep from everyone else, and if you were being honest, now that you were thinking about it…that and with your earlier admission on top of it…

Maybe it was your fault.

“What did he say?” Taylor said, shaking you out of your own head. You blinked, apparently still looking at Sid.

There was something grave and more serious in her features that hadn’t been there earlier, and when you shot a look at Nate, he was wearing an almost identical expression: his brows were furrowed together and his mouth was pulled in a tight line, altogether looking uncharacteristically morbid.

You felt your pulse quicken in foreboding, “He asked if anything happened and then we got in the car.”

“Nothing else?” 

You inhaled, blinking twice, “Should there have been?”

***

The car ride back to your house was silent. Eerily so. Your body was exhausted and your brain was still playing the soundtrack of pucks smacking against posts, sticks and boards in your head, along with the joyous yells of the kids. That was why you loved it so much – not just the ice time and the familiarity of having a stick in your hands and a puck at your feet – but for the look on their faces when they looked up from the ice to see a grinning Sidney Crosby or Nathan MacKinnon singing them praises.

It made you wonder how many of them would eventually go on to play college hockey or even make it to the professional leagues.

You stifled a grin, your hand over your mouth as you turned to look out of the passenger window.

The only thing that broke through to you was the motion of the driver when his head turned to watch you briefly before returning back to the road. That simple movement had the smile melting off your face. 

You’d never been particularly nervous around Sid – and on the few occasions you had been, all it had taken was a fifteen minute conversation with him and it all dissipated – but this time was different. Not only was what Taylor had told you swirling around your mind, but the tension in the car was palpable, at least in your opinion.

Sid hadn’t said much, just kept his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the road. Since this morning, it was probably the only glaringly obvious symptom that something wasn’t quite right, or something was playing on his mind.

It didn’t take much for you to box your own miseries and turn to him. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye first: the strong jaw, the full lips, the prominent nose, the dark eyes and darker hair. He really was quite breathtaking. The hands on the steering wheel, the rippling forearms each time he had to turn the wheel. It wasn’t something you were immune to at all: in fact, since the age of about fourteen you’d been hyper aware of the fact that Sid was stunning – and it wasn’t just in his looks, either. His work ethic, concentration, determination, kindness, generosity. He was the insurmountable sum of all of those qualities, and you were a damn fool if you didn’t recognise the fact that you’d been a tiny bit in love with him all your life.

And because of that, you knew him well. Not as well as some people might initially assume, but well enough.

“You okay?” You asked, earning nothing but a nod and a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, why?”

You shrugged, “You’re just quiet.”

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

You nodded, looking to your lap. He’d be tired the entire week, that was always how this went. But he’d get by and he’d manage and he’d recover like he wasn’t tired: he still kept smiling, still showed enthusiasm, and maybe he’d gotten used to it over the years, because you could have sworn each time he organised this he was less and less tired.

“You sleeping okay?” 

He nodded, running a hand from his wrist to scratch under his sleeve, and you followed the motion unconsciously with your eyes, “More than. You?”

You shrugged, pulling an unsure face, “The usual.”

He snuck another glance at you out of the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the road ahead, “What about you, are you okay?” He echoed your own question back to you, and maybe if it wasn’t for the genuine thin film of concern to his voice, you’d have brushed it off with an answer and a huff of laughter. Instead, though, you parrotted his words back to him, nailing the equal part-suspicion and amusement.

“Yeah, why?” 

“You’re hilarious.” He shot back drily, shaking his head.

“Hey, can you drop me off at my parents’ house please, I need to collect something. I’ll literally be five minutes.”

It was Taylor’s voice in your head that kept bashing about, repeating words and flashing images – Nate was thrown in there too from that earlier conversation you’d all had when Sid was oblivious, and it didn’t let up, not even when you pushed the key into your childhood home and shut the door behind you.

The house was pretty quiet, the sound of the door shutting echoing down the hallway. The TV was flashing in the living room, and you could hear voices, from both the news anchors and your parents talking over it. Only then did Taylor’s words quieten. 

“Who is it?” A voice yelled out just as you’d scraped your shoes off your feet, and the smile that bloomed on your face was almost instantaneous.

“Your favourite child!”

There was a brief pause, and you stopped in the hallway, waiting until he replied.

“That doesn’t sound like Sid.”

You pulled a face, snatching a pair of socks from the staircase before entering the living room, pelting the ball at your Dad’s head, the soft cotton smacking him straight in the nose. He was sitting in his PJs: plaid bottoms and a crumpled top, with slippers and no socks on his feet. When the socks collided with his face, that smirk was still there, even as he lobbed them back at you with surprising force to say he didn’t have a lot of arm room.

“Nice to see you, too.” You rolled your eyes, smiling at your Mom, who’d since gotten up off the sofa to peer through the blinds.

“What’re you doing?” Your Dad asked, turning his attention to his wife, and before she’d even answered you knew what she was going to say.

“Sid’s outside in the car.” You said, shrugging when they both turned to you with equal appal written all over their faces.

“Get him in here.” Your Mom grinned, knocking on the window and motioning for the man himself to come inside.

You just rolled your eyes, “I’m just gonna go get something from upstairs.” Your words fell on deaf ears, however, because almost as soon as you’d taken initiative and left the room, the front door was shutting and Sid was standing, smiling, at the door, still decked out in camp kit and looking every bit as nervous as the first time he’d ever met your family. And then he seemed to spot you walking towards him, your parents in front of you, and he let out that telltale breath, his shoulders and face relaxing fractionally.

He’d explained it to you before, about how he still feels awkward meeting people’s parents, no matter how long he’s known them, and you never seem to remember that until you see it with your own eyes: I don’t know, it’s weird, but if I see, say you, someone I know, it kinda gets me out of my head a bit. I don’t know why.

“Come in, come in – oh, she’s just picking something up–”

You immediately turned on the stairs, one hand still clutching the bannister tightly, to look upon a pair of eyes that practically gleamed ‘don’t leave me here’. The rest of his face was pretty neutral, a polite smile as your parents chatted his ears off, the both of them making their way back into the house, and there was a split second where they weren’t looking at either of you.

For some reason, instead of laughing at his misfortune, you inhaled quickly, leaning over the bannister, “Wait, I need Sid’s help with something.” 

Everyone seemed to freeze. Even despite the mental pleading he’d been doing, Sid couldn’t help it when his lips parted in shock, kind of like he couldn’t help it when his brows knitted together. Your mom stopped talking about how nice it was to see Sid again, and looked up at you too. It looked as though she was about to say something, but with the guilty, rather hurried smile on your face she clamped her mouth shut, nodding. Your dad hadn’t stopped walking, but even from the other room the rather loud ‘mutter’ of, “Is that what we’re calling it, now?” 

Needless to say, both yours and Sid’s cheeks were still a little bit pink by the time you’d walked into your old bedroom.

“What’re you looking for?” He asked, desperate to get his mind out of that gutter, and flopped on your still-made bed, picking up the penguin teddy he’d brought home after his draft. He’d bought it in one of the stores in the airport in Toronto on his way back home, and you’d never had the heart to even move it out of this house: it belonged here.

“Do you remember that video camera I used to have?” You pulled open the first contender: the bedside table drawer. There were loose cables, hair ties, various joint support bands…but no sign of the camera.

“Yeah.” Came the reply from near your head, and you blinked, not expecting him to be so close. He’d rolled onto his front, his face smushed into your pillow, and he made no attempt to pretend as though he hadn’t been watching you rifle through your drawers – at least not if that cheeky grin didn’t automatically make its way onto his face.

You pushed his forehead back, stopping your mild attack when he screamed before dissolving into giggles severely reminiscent of when he was younger. It was so incredibly infectious, so incredibly nostalgic that all you could do was crouch, an unconscious open-mouthed smile on your face.

“Why are you laughing?” You slammed the drawer shut, heaving yourself off the floor and over to your old desk. There were still some notebooks scattered across the surface, pens in the stand. The cupboard and shelves were almost full, and it was only as you started to pull everything out, looking inside baskets and boxes that Sid could be bothered to speak again.

“Because I’m pretty sure we had this exact conversation when we were twenty.”

“We did?”

“Yeah.” He punctuated it with a sigh, a despondent one, and you looked at him over your shoulder. He was sitting up now, his hands clamped around his ankles, a thoughtful look on his face.

The ‘twenty’ year with Sid had been very weird, and you never really figured out why. The nineteenth was almost non-existent, the twenty-first good, but it was tinged by what happened at the end of his season (not the winning the Stanley Cup for the first time, but the other thing), which made your twenty-second awkward, and the twenty-third was almost like a reset. You never really realised how much you’d both changed until you got to relearn each other as adults. 

He was eyeing the corner of your room you tried to avoid looking at. 

“So why are you looking for the camera?” He asked, voice sounding far-away. He was still staring at the trophy corner, and you turned your attention back to rifling through old relics in the hunt, gladly looking anywhere but that shrine.

“If I told you Taylor would murder me in my sleep.”

He groaned, “I told her not to do anything for my birthday.” 

“It’s nothing big, I think she just wants photos from when we were younger.”

“We?”

You shrugged, missing the slight catch in his voice, “Well, you, but there’s loads of photos of you on my camera, I think she just wants a look. I always forget how young she was when we left.” You sighed, slamming the cupboard door on your desk shut, before standing in the middle of your room, hands on your hips, “I don’t know where else I could have put it.”

He didn’t say anything, but the creaky springs of your mattress groaned under his hands as he pushed himself up off your bed, before walking straight passed you and into the forbidden corner.

There was a clinking sound of metal, and you whirled on your heel, watching him carefully rifle through the trophies, photo frames, certificates and medals all hung and displayed neatly, before spinning around on his heel, holding the camera in his hand with a knowing look on his face.

***

Saying you were nervous was a bit of an understatement considering what it was you were about to do. The camera’s SD card was safely tucked into your laptop, but you’d been staring at the folder on the homescreen for ten minutes, and you were sure you hadn’t felt this nervous since your driving test. Your hands were clammy, your heart was racing and your brain was loud.

You’d lied to Sid earlier – well, partially. Taylor had wanted to look at some photos, and you had every intention on bringing the camera in to the rink tomorrow so you could giggle at the contents in your breaks, but there was something else she’d also said, something that got your brain working, and you hadn’t been able to think about anything else since. 

You inhaled shakily, before double-clicking the yellow folder, the seconds where the mouse loaded into a swirl of blue almost knocking your soul out of your body from the sheer anxiety of it all. You hoped you were wrong, but a small part of you hoped Taylor had been right. If she had, it’d make so much sense as to what happened when you were eighteen-nineteen, but if she was right? You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do.

The screen flooded with images…school corridors, ice rinks, soccer fields, bedrooms, cars, bars, Rimouski, until–

Fuck.

You froze, eyes fixated on the one photo that had caught your eye. It was someone’s back garden, you couldn’t remember who exactly, but you remembered being there. It was dark, string lights and strobe lights hung across the verandah and neon streaks flickered from between plants. 

You’d drunk so much that night but you could still remember handing your camera off to some of your classmates – it must have been graduation – and everyone had been drinking, that much you could tell from the quality of the photos, and this one in particular wasn’t any different. It was a blurred photo of someone celebrating a beer pong game, their arms raised over their head and their mouth open in some kind of celebratory roar, but it wasn’t that that caught your attention.

It was the shadowy figures of two teenagers sitting on the stools towards one side of the garden, a makeshift table pressed against the wall. They were sitting close together, knees slotted between each other, and faces mere inches apart. Both were wearing grins, even despite being mid-kiss.

Shadowy, yet so unmistakably you and Sid.

***

“You okay?”

You blinked, the staff room coming back to you. The fluorescent lights glared along the surface of the table you’d picked, your lunch tray sitting untouched in front of you, and there was a general buzz about the place. It was lunchtime, and you’d opted out of kid-duty – partly because you were on the brink of giving yourself a headache and mostly just because you couldn’t really focus on much without immediately thinking about Sid – which meant sitting at a table in a quiet room by yourself just for a breather.

Only, a rather determined, hazel-eyed man seemed to have other ideas if the tray plopped down opposite you was anything to go by. He collapsed against the chair with a sigh, hands picking up his knife and fork with practised ease, and he hadn’t even given you a chance to answer his question before he was pausing, eyeing you with mild concern. His eyebrows knitted together and he ducked his head to try to get a closer read on you.

“Yeah.” You nodded, swallowing, almost nervous.

This thing had happened all those years ago and he’d never brought it up. Yet, that still didn’t explain why he’d then…he was confusing, in the present tense. 

His mouth turned downwards for a brief moment and he shook his head in disbelief, “You disappeared ten minutes ago and you haven’t touched your food.”

You just shrugged, managing a tight smile, “Not very hungry.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se, but it was the honest truth when your stomach rolled just as he put a forkful of food in his own mouth. It revolted you to such an extent you pushed your own tray further away and turned to sit sideways on your chair, all just so you wouldn’t have to look at him eat.

He froze, his fork stilling, “Are you…I can take the food away if you want?” 

You shook your head, closing your eyes, “No, it’s fine.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and your hand found its way into the pocket of your tracksuit bottoms, fingers finding the smooth plastic of the USB stick you’d copied the photos for Taylor on. You had a plan, see. You wanted to kind of broach the topic of the graduation party with Sid, mainly just to test him for a reaction without outrightly admitting anything, and you figured – despite your current situation – that now was…appropriate.

“Do you know where Taylor is?” You asked, keeping your eyes screwed shut.

“No, why?” His answer came all too quickly, a hint of nosiness creeping into his tone. You could imagine the slight raise of one eyebrow and the thinly veiled look of ‘why the heck are you wanting my sister?’ expression on his face. You’d seen it many times before, and it never ceased to amuse.

“I have that USB of photos to give her and I haven’t seen her all morning, I was just wondering if you knew where she was?”

He would, of course. If one thing was ever going to be guaranteed about Sidney Crosby, it was the protective ‘eye’ he kept on Taylor.

“She’s in the canteen. Did you find any good’ens on there?”

“Yeah, actually.” You peeled your eyes open, ensuring to keep them fixated on his face instead of the sickly pile of food on his plate, “Do you remember that graduation party?”

He chewed thoughtfully, his jaw slowing as he nodded his head cautiously, “Yeah.” He said, dragging the word out, and there was a prick of pink on his cheeks, as though he’d suddenly come under a severe amount of stress.

He was getting a little uncomfortable.

“There’s a photo of…Jack, I think it is? Is that right?” He nodded, “He clearly won a game of beer pong or something because there’s a couple of blurry photos of him celebrating and if you look really closely you can see us in the background. It must have been towards the end of the night or something because I looked like I was falling everywhere.”

He nodded, humming interestedly, “What were we doing?”

You felt your mouth part, almost shocked at the sudden ease rolling off his shoulders. It was as though he’d prepared himself to deny, deny, deny this for his entire life, and purely because you were feeling like shit and like a shit, you shrugged, “Couldn’t really…make it out, I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened that night anyway, I drank way too much.”

He nodded once more, shrugging, “Yeah, I remember having to hold your hair back and almost dialling for an ambulance because I was pretty sure you had alcohol poisoning.”

You nodded, staging a faux look of confusion, “Did anything happen that night? You were really weird for a couple of days after.”

There was a pause – a brief one, maybe a quarter of a second, and he looked straight at you, jaw frozen mid-chew and for a moment you thought he’d picked up on something and you were found out. Then he blinked, and with the way he was acting: sitting up straighter, almost hesitating saying something, you thought maybe he was about to tell the truth.

“No.” He pulled a face, “Nothing happened that I can remember.”

***

It turned out the aversion to food was part of a larger issue, a result most likely of possibly contracting a bug from one of the kids – or maybe you were just horrendously unlucky, because you spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, and were so unwell the next morning you had to cancel helping out at Sid’s camp.

He’d sent a string of texts and a few unanswered phone calls, but you didn’t really have the energy to answer them – not when you were feeling so weird around him. You’d thought, prior to finding out about the photos and what had actually happened (bless Taylor’s oblivious nosiness when Nate had asked about you guys before – Sid had actually admitted to the whole graduation thing to the blonde, and that was Taylor’s knowledge of the entire thing), that you and Sid had maintained a pretty honest friendship, but apparently not? You wouldn’t have been so put off by the whole thing if he hadn’t pulled that same stunt later down the line, either.

There was definitely a pattern, and he definitely had a pattern and it seemed to just be deny, deny, deny at all cost.

And you weren’t entirely sure when this had happened, but you’d come to the realisation that you were sick of pretending like the two of you hadn’t been dancing that line for years. What you’d thought was seven years of denial was actually ten. This thing had been going on since you were kids, and each time something had happened you’d get weird around each other and when you tried to talk about it he’d make some excuse.

If it wasn’t a big deal why did it always have such a big impact on the two of you?

That entire thought process was what you’d been unable to escape from nearly all day. No amount of episodes of TV shows or films could distract your brain from that little spiel, it was like having a grating voice go on and on in your ear and you weren’t quite sure how to proceed, what to do to distract yourself.

Your kettle clicked off, and you sniffed, reaching out to grab the handle, the steam from the boiling water offering some kind of relief from the pressure in your sinuses.

You really were ill, but not nearly as ill as you’d made out to be to Sid. In truth you just needed a break, mostly from him, which felt horrendous to admit considering your ‘break’ from that man consisted of an entire NHL season, and your days spent in each other’s company were severely limited anyway.

But there was something in you that knew if you saw his face you wouldn’t be able to hold back saying or doing something.

Taylor knew what was really going on, and if you knew Taylor like you thought you did that probably meant Nate knew, but you know Nate well enough now to guess he wouldn’t go blabbing to Sid about something that’s not his business. The blonde likes his gossip, but he knows when to stay out of certain situations.

You liked Nate.

You inhaled, the hot water turning a bright-yellow from the teabag you’d placed in the mug (a lemon and ginger one you’d managed to snag from a local store a few days ago), and it was just as you’d threaded your fingers through the mug handle that there was a knock at your door.

You froze, brain a little slow to understand you should be moving to answer it, when a voice could be heard through the frosted glass panes.

The mug seemed to slam against the countertop of its own going, not loud enough for the intruder to hear it but loud enough to satisfy your irritation at who it was.

Think of the devil and he shall indeed appear.

He quieted down for a few seconds and you ducked from where you were standing, knowing if he made his way around to the back of the house where your kitchen window was he wouldn’t be able to see you crouched behind the counter.

And then your phone started ringing. It didn’t exactly take a genius to know who it was and the eye roll came almost automatically.

He could be so dramatic sometimes.

It must have taken barely ten seconds for him to stop ringing, and you held your breath, desperately trying to figure out if he’d moved away and given up; your knees and hips were seizing, you could feel them begin to lock from not having moved nearly all day, and you winced, hand reaching up to grip the countertop.

If you were lucky he wouldn’t be looking—

“I can see your hand and your tea.” His muffled voice deadpanned and you sighed defeated, pulling yourself up.

He was standing in your backyard, his phone in his hand and a rather disappointed look on his face as he stared straight at you through the window. 

You had to give him credit where it was due: the man could certainly kick up a fuss and coax you out of hiding.

Granted, you weren’t allocated a set amount of time to even begin to make it look like you were really holed up in bed. If you had, the TV downstairs would be off, as would the lights, and there wouldn’t be an easily visible makeshift blanket bed on the couch. All he’d really had to do was walk along your drive to peer through the front window, and then walk straight down the side of your house to the back gate.

You’d kept it unlocked for the last couple of days because you hadn’t been in much to accept parcels, and you’d never gotten round to locking it again.

Of course you’d come to regret that immediately.

The back door lock clicked open as you twisted the key, and you didn’t spare him a glance, instead making a beeline for the half-made tea. For one, you knew watching him walk through the door with his current sulk on was only going to encourage him to start talking about it, and you absolutely weren’t about to give him that satisfaction. You also really wanted that tea, it was probably the only thing standing between you getting better for the camp and the weird sickness you’d managed to contract.

Your immune system was shit.

He cleared his throat, and you lifted your eyes lazily in his direction, taking out the tea bag and leaving it to drain, “Hi.”

Your voice was scratchy and rough, and the reaction it elicited from the man in front of you: brows raised, mouth dropping open, sprung a rather odd thought to the forefront of your mind: “Did you not believe me when I said I was sick?” You managed, laughing awkwardly and inhaling the vapour from your mug, watching him closely.

He shrugged, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up on the hooks. There was a spare hook, one not used for your own stuff: a plethora of raincoats, boots, kitchen aprons…and Sid’s jacket. 

“I did believe you. Kind of.” He admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the kitchen counter, “I thought you were maybe avoiding me, though.”

You blinked, keeping your face neutral, actively trying not to scoff at him or narrow your eyes in his direction, “I am avoiding you; I’m not about to give whatever this is to you, am I?” You asked softly, cradling the mug of tea under your chin, feeling the irritation begin to swirl under your skin already.

You shifted uncomfortably, and Sid watched your eyes dart to a chair pressed up against the wall with longing. He knew there was something up, something not linked to being sick – he’d felt it in the car earlier and you were practically drenched in tension yesterday. It was difficult to ignore, and judging from the way you’d been seeking out Taylor recently he had a feeling it might have been something to do with him.

What, though, he had no idea.

“Well,” he inhaled, mouth flattening into a straight line. His chest seemed to ache suddenly when you nodded, an almost sarcastic grin on your lips, purposefully avoiding looking in his direction, and he’d known you long enough by now to know when you wanted him out of the house. Now it was no different, “Thank you, I appreciate the thought.”

An uncomfortable silence.

He wanted to scream.

“I best be going.” He hurried out, the words almost getting tangled in his mouth, and before he could cause himself more harm by looking at you and the action not being reciprocated, he turned his back and reached automatically for the coat he’d literally just hung up.

Sid had never been a cryer – he didn’t class himself as an emotional guy, which was why he was so shocked at the sudden burning of his eyes and the tightness in his throat. Fuck, he couldn’t cry here. One, because it’s embarrassing, and two: he had no clue why he was upset to this extent.

He’d managed to put his arms through his sleeves, just about to start zipping it up after a quick glance at the sky outside when you suddenly spoke, voice somehow even rougher than before.

“What reason would I be avoiding you for?”

Sid froze, swallowing nervously. It didn’t take a genius, even in that exact moment, to dissect the words you’d chosen to come to the conclusion that you’d picked them carefully. Not ‘what made you think I was avoiding you?’ which would certainly have been easier for him to answer, but he had a feeling you knew that. 

It was pretty obvious from the avoidance at lunch yesterday and the weird behaviour in the car the day before that, and then the cold shoulder and lack of interest in conversation now, that something was wrong. The signs were pretty subtle, though, he had to give you that.

He turned slowly, fingers detaching from his zipper. You were now sitting at the chair against the wall, knees tucked up to your chin, the hot mug of tea still clasped in your hands. Your eyes were a little red, probably due to exhaustion, and your hair had been twisted to sit across one shoulder, attention faced solely and rather intensely on him.

“Uhm–” he cleared his throat, blinking quickly to rid of the shining moisture in his eyes. He could feel his heart racing against his sternum, and he wondered briefly if you could hear it from across the room, “I don’t know.” He muttered sadly, eyes flicking to his shoes.

Camp had been great today, as it usually was, but he always found himself scanning the ice for your familiar face. 

You nodded, sighing with disappointment, and Sid felt himself deflate. His fingers tapped against his thigh seven, eight times before he inhaled, throwing the words out in the open before he lost the courage to do so.

“What’s going on with you?” He was about three seconds away from stamping his foot; he was so desperate to know the answer. It was childish and it was stupid, but it meant something to him when you shrugged, eyes suddenly misty.

He knew what you were going to say before you even said it, but he kept quiet anyway.

“Nothing.” You sounded as wrecked as he felt, a hint of sheer resignation in your voice. It was so uncharacteristic of you: to Sid it was as if you’d not only given up on whatever it was that was bothering you but you’d given up on hiding that something was ever wrong in the first place.

It was a victory, no matter how small.

“Come on.” He took a step closer, quite literally on the verge of begging, “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Silence.

“I know you. Better than anyone–”

The expression on your face changed immediately, and it felt as though you’d socked him in the chest. You didn’t believe him.

You didn’t believe him.

“I want to know you better than anyone else does.” He sighed, hands pressing against his temples before he dropped them back to his sides, not quite registering what his words meant. They’d flown out of his mouth before he even heard them in his brain, and even when he’d spoken them out loud it felt surreal. He wasn’t sure what was what with all the blood rushing in his ears.

It was because of that, trapped inside himself and his own mind that he failed to register the look on your face.

“Even still,” he continued, plopping himself down on the chair on the other side of the table from you, hands knitted together on the tabletop. He was leaning right across the table but you haven't moved an inch, “This…This, you being quiet, withdrawn, skipping a day of camp – I know you’re sick and everything, but that’s never stopped you before, not when it comes to hockey.” He paused, taking a breath, “What’s going on?”

You took a sip of tea, ignoring the scalding sensation against your tongue in favour of stalling. If you didn’t say anything now, then you probably never would. In fact, if he hadn’t said what he’d just said, clearly without thinking about the meaning of the damn words, you knew you wouldn’t even be considering telling him at all. But where there was doubt…

“Why did you never mention what happened at the graduation party?”

You heard him stop breathing. There was no reason to look at him to see it when you could practically hear the hitch in his chest and the lack of air. When you did look at him his cheeks had paled and his mouth was opening and shutting, shoulders stuck in a shrug as though you’d genuinely caught him off-guard.

You could ask him that question without it meaning anything – it could just as easily be read as ‘huh, funny that you never mentioned it before’ than as ‘you kind of denied me the truth of why we’re so weird because everything that’s ever happened between us since that night has been a direct result of whatever fucked-up miscommunication gig we’ve got going on here’.

“How did you find out?” He breathed, a deep crease between his brows. Now that he’d had time to recover, he looked more concerned – angry, even – than sheepish.

You shrugged, “Those photos I got for Taylor? We’re in the background of ‘em.”

He nodded slowly, mouth pressed in a straight line. This time it was him that couldn’t look at you, probably just to gather his thoughts. You could tell his mind was racing, eyes zipping back and forth against the grain of the table.

You could feel your heart banging in your chest, the speed of it almost stinging. The anticipation was debilitating, and it took everything in you not to spit out question after question, because he was taking ages to say something and it was driving you crazy. Your fingers were tapping against your mug, a sharp exhale blowing the vapour around.

It was maybe that that had him looking up, head tilted backwards slightly, a thumb teasing at his lip. It was probably the first time you’d seen him lost for words.

“You really don’t remember it?” He muttered, brown eyes wide and clear, shiny in the last rays of sun poking through the back windows.

You shook your head, “I told you I didn’t remember.”

“I thought you were…I thought that was your way of letting me down gently.” 

You huffed a disbelieving laugh, staring at him, half-expecting him to take those words back and say he was kidding, but he never did. He just continued to look at you, that damn crease between his brows, eyes glassy and playing with his bottom lip like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was still wearing his coat.

He never spoke.

“Why would I reject you?”

His hand fell from his mouth, landing with a soft thud on the table as he smiled, in such a self-deprecating fashion that you couldn’t help recoiling from him.

“Why wouldn’t you? I was moving to Pittsburgh, you were going to LA. We would have barely seen each other, and you deserved better than that. You still do. I mean, you know how much of a mess we were that year anyway, right?” He rambled, brows knitted together and mouth hung open. His elbows were resting on the edge of the table, hands palms-up towards the ceiling. He’d asked it like it was a rhetorical question but he was looking at you so intently you had to swallow your mouthful of tea and start talking.

Your mind had been running away with you, spitting counter-arguments for nearly everything he said, but it seemed to keep wanting to come back to the fact that he so clearly just assumed you’d reject him. 

“Did it not occur to you that maybe we were such a mess because of what happened?”

“I thought you didn't remember?”

“I didn’t, but it didn’t take a genius to know you weren’t bothered about keeping in contact with me. I wrote you emails and I got one-word answers – maybe even a full sentence if I was lucky; I called but you either didn’t answer or you cut it short because you had to go to practice. You never called back. On my birthday, the first one away from my family, you never called. I didn’t get anything from you when I got a card from your parents without your name signed because they’d just assumed you’d have written one yourself. For about nine months, the most I heard or saw of you was through the TV.” You inhaled sharply, a sudden burning sensation behind your eyes. That first year was honestly pretty awful for you when it came to Sid. What you’d told him on his decking a few days ago had been true, every single word of it. You’d agonised over every single possible thing that could have happened to change it, and for some reason the realisation of why he’d done what he’d done hit you rather emotionally, “You did all of that because you didn’t believe me when I said I never remembered what happened, didn’t you?”

His hands fell to the table, his expression softening into one of sheer guilt, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, “I really…I didn’t know, I thought it was what you wanted.”

You huffed a bitter laugh, suddenly cold, and right as though it had been scripted, rain began to splatter against the window panes, the sky now an overcast, stormy grey, “When have I ever pretended I wanted something if I really wanted the opposite?”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, “Never.”

You nodded, satisfied with his answer, and took a rather angry sip of tea, ignoring the uncomfortable burn. There was still so much you wanted to know, so many questions you wanted answers to, but at that moment: looking through the window of the back door to see nothing but dark skies and heavy sheets of rain battering your house, there was only one thing that you could really think of.

“While we’re here,” you started, voice lowering almost as though you were anticipating hearing something you weren’t going to like, “Can we talk about your first Cup win?”

Your fingers were back to tapping anxiously against the porcelain of your mug, and the heavy silence broken only by the rustle of his rain jacket was enough of an answer to let you know how this was going to go.

He inhaled, and you risked a glance at him across the table. His eyes were open, but barely, and it looked as though this conversation, or the last few minutes at least, had exhausted him. He suddenly had bags under his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy. He wasn’t smiling but he nodded anyway, face pale and hands beginning to tremble slightly. 

Sid wasn’t one to ever really get emotional about anything. You’d only seen him cry a few times in person, but nearly every single one of those occasions was for something good: a Cup win, a house-warming party in the pantry after he’d moved into his new-build, saying goodbye to his parents at the airport. 

This was entirely different, though. It wouldn’t entirely shock you if he walked back out of your door with a few grey hairs.

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” You eyed his pale cheeks and trembling hands wearily.

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds, before inhaling and casting a quick glance at your cupboards, “Yeah, I’ll get it though, you’re sick.” And then, almost as if something else had occurred to him when he went to push himself up off the chair, he turned back briefly, “You’d tell me when you want me to leave, right?”

The barest of smiles appeared on your face, and you nodded, “Yeah.”

“Good.”

You watched him manoeuvre through your kitchen, flicking the kettle on and reaching to take a mug out from one of your cupboards, as well as taking a tea bag out of the little box you kept them in and shaking the dust out of it, the bag landing in the mug with a soft plop. He turned back when the kettle was still boiling, hands crossed over his chest and standing against the countertop right in front of you.

There was something on his mind, you could tell. There was a high probability that it was something relating to this Cup Incident, but there was something almost impatient about the way he kept shooting an angry glance at the kettle, as though it wasn’t boiling fast enough for his liking, that had you perhaps thinking there was something else playing on his mind.

“What?” You asked, swallowed anxiously.

His head snapped in your direction, eyes wide with alarm and his mouth opened and closed a few times, thoroughly confused, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know, but you want to.”

He closed his mouth just as the kettle clicked, and there was a brief moment where he turned his back to pour the water into his cup, but before you could even say ‘hockey’ he’d spun on his heel to face you again, “I just…We’re gonna be okay after this, right? I don’t want you to not be in my life, I don’t want to not be in your life.” He sighed, “I don’t want this to break us.”

Us. 

Us.

It echoed in your mind, and despite agreeing with almost everything he said, all you could offer by way of reassurance was a sad shrug, “I don’t want that either.”

He nodded, before finishing off his tea and grabbing a protein bar from one of your drawers and sitting back down at the table, shedding his coat and laying it neatly over the back of the chair.

Neither of you said anything for a good minute. It might have been because Sid was munching on that protein bar, but you really wanted to put the matter off for as long as possible just in case what he said did become true. Prolonging a possible heartbreak – an entire era, person and a piece of your identity – from ever occurring, even if it was only hindered a few more minutes.

It seemed, though, he took the liberty of deciding exactly when to start talking.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “this is about the second kiss, isn’t it? My Cup day.” His tone was firm, but there was a hint of sombreness hidden somewhere.

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your mug. Your knees were still tucked to your chin, and technically Sid was sitting to your left, you still choosing to sit on the chair sideways and face the window instead. You were spending an awful lot of time staring at him though.

You spun, feet hitting the floor and mug clinking on the surface of the table. 

“I’m gonna ask a few questions and I just want you to answer honestly, okay?” You asked, inhaling a deep breath and choosing to ignore the thundering heart rate.

He nodded, leaning forwards in his chair in anticipation.

“We were both pretty drunk, yeah?”

“Correct.”

“Nobody saw, correct?”

“Correct.” He was starting to smile.

“I leant in first,” you started, voice shakier than you’d intended, and despite moving so you could see him without giving yourself a neck cramp, you found it almost impossible to be able to look at him. You’d kept some of this hidden from yourself, locked away in a bottle somewhere in the floorboards of your mind – completely inaccessible, even to yourself. To bare them aloud for the very person who shared the secret was nothing short of absolutely terrifying, “but then I stopped, right?”

You couldn’t tell if he was hesitating or if he was struggling to remember the event that had been burned in your mind for so many years, yet you still couldn’t look at him. Not even when his fingers slowly inched into your line of sight, seeking to touch your own hand still wrapped around your mug.

You didn’t move. It might dissuade him from touching you – you hoped it would because you weren’t entirely sure if you’d be able to admit all of this to him if he did.

“Yeah.” His voice was low, and his fingers dropped on top of the table, tapping silently.

“Then you…made the move.” You struggled not to cringe at your wording of it, eyes screwing shut before peeking open again, just in time to hear him answer. You hadn’t asked it as a question, but he took the hint anyway.

“I did.” 

You paused, thinking. There weren’t many times you’d had to ask for unadulterated honesty when it came to Sid: most of the time he gave it to you anyway, but when it came to this kind of topic – you, it seemed, especially in the more romantic sense than simply lifelong friendship – he always kept his cards to his chest, never really revealed anything too damning.

But you’d asked for his honesty, and the least you could do was reciprocate that. It wouldn’t hurt to also milk it a little.

“I wanted to kiss you.” Want to kiss him, “Did you want to kiss me?” Your voice was higher than you’d like it to be, still a little hesitant and unsure. It somehow all felt unnatural, like scaling a foreign terrain for the first time. You couldn’t quite find your feed, where you could or couldn’t stand that would be safe and efficient.

You risked a quick glance at him. And oddly found you couldn’t quite look away. He still had that one hand almost outstretched towards you on the table, but his other was wrapped safely around his mug, still billowing vapour. His cheeks had flushed since he’d had something to eat, but it was his eyes that you couldn’t peel yourself away from.

He was looking at you, right at you, with something you’d never seen before. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was soft without being too gentle, firm without being angry or aggressive. The corners of his mouth were downturned in a sort of sad, melancholic smile, too, and you’d never seen him look at anything else like that – anyone else – apart from when he’d be getting ready to serve a big milestone on the ice.

You’d seen it when he’d put on a gameday suit for his 500th game, you’d seen it when he’d clocked the family in the box at his 1000th game. It was appreciation, gratitude. There was a third answer lurking in the back of your mind, but you refused to acknowledge it for the sake of not getting ahead of yourself.

One question at a time, one answer at a time, only look at the facts.

“Yeah.” The answer flew out of his mouth barely even half a second after you’d looked at him, and he broke into a cheeky grin, quickly ducking his head to his chest to calm himself.

He inhaled, eyes closing briefly before turning back to you with a straight face, and this time it was you breathing an amused laugh.

“Yeah, I wanted to kiss you.” He repeated, nodding for you to continue.

There was one question left. The reminder of it was enough to melt any previous traces of a smile off your face, and instead your mouth twisted at the corner, pulse humming in your head with dread.

“Why did you blow me off the next day when I said we needed to talk?”

His eyes focused on something behind you, and his mouth flattened in a line, self-deprecating and devoid of any true emotion, “I saw it going two ways: you were gonna reject me, or we were gonna do something about it. The way I saw it, I thought you’d already rejected me way back when – I know now that’s not the case – so I wasn’t really scared of that. The thought of it stung but…”

You frowned, “You were scared of me not rejecting you?”

He nodded, “I could never have asked you to sacrifice your entire life just to make me happy. You had a career, a house you’d just bought, friends, you were close to your family. I wasn’t gonna make you choose between all of that and – and just me, was I?”

Your face seemed to crumple sympathetically before you could even control anything. Everything he’d just admitted was nothing short of a testament to his character and who he was, no matter how…you wanted to say he was selfish for choosing for you, and a small part of you believed that, but he was also right. You had everything he’d just listed, and it would have been upsetting to move away if things progressed further and ‘got serious’, but it wasn’t like you would have been completely isolated, either.

He spends a good portion of his time in Pittsburgh, that’s true, but he spends his entire off-season at home in Cole Harbour. An entire four to five months, almost half a year.

You shook your head, hands unclasping from your mug to rest at your temples, “Okay…I kind of get where you’re coming from, but did it ever occur to you how much you had to sacrifice to get to where you are?” 

He blinked.

“You’ve earned the right to be selfish, especially when it comes to me. I mean, sure, I have a life here, I love it, but I never wanted to stay here. That was never my plan. I wanted to play hockey as a career, I wanted to travel and experience things, but that wasn’t what happened. I’m constantly missing a life I never even got to taste and I guess…I guess I’m kind of miserable because of it? I’m grateful for what I’ve got, but it won’t ever equate to what I wanted for myself. I love hockey, I love this camp, but I love seeing you just as much, I always have. It meant something to me.” You hesitated, “You mean something to me.”

You searched his face for a reaction, and it might have taken a few seconds for what you were saying to sink in, because his eyes suddenly went glassy and his jaw clenched. He couldn’t look at you for a while, and he kept sniffing.

You hoped more than anything he wasn’t actively catching your cold whilst you waited for him to say something.

And then: “I mean, for what it’s worth, you mean everything to me–”

“It’s not a competition.”

***

You were lost.

Or, at least, from Sid’s perspective you were: he was standing near the boards on the ice, keeping a close eye on the kids playing the shooting drill he’d set up for them, and he truly was watching them…he just couldn’t exactly help it when his eyes would wander curiously and scour the rest of the ice, practically desperate to drink you in. Wherever you were. He couldn’t see you, and it was getting to that point in the day where he wasn’t sure if that meant you’d left the ice to supervise the locker rooms and talk to parents or if he just wasn’t looking properly (again: he had to watch a bunch of kids with knives screwed to their feet).

See, it had been three days since you’d both sat in your kitchen and mulled things over, uprooting what you both thought to have happened when you were younger and twisting everything into a more truthful, honest version (he admittedly spent the rest of the day in bed; he was so emotionally drained he actually forgot to feed Sam until she started barking relentlessly at him) of events. 

Did he know where you stood with each other now? Not entirely, but he knew you were both thinking about it. That was a shock and a half to have uncovered on a Wednesday evening.

Did he know what he planned to do within the next few weeks? Kind of.

Had you actually seen or spoken to each other since that day? Not apart from group settings: you’d taken another day off to recover from that little bug you’d caught – of which Sid had managed to avoid catching – and the past two days including this one were full of nothing but red cheeks and a peculiar affinity to wrestle a smile off both your faces if you even so much as looked at each other. 

It was a pretty big switch-around from last week, but he welcomed it with…well, he’d honestly never been happier or more excited to be on the edge of starting something with you. He’d thought about it often before, mostly as a weapon to torture himself with when he was already upset over something, remind him of another failure – only that one had been personal and about his life, not anything to do with hockey. It always used to sting more.

He sighed, “Hey, Ryan, try gripping the stick a bit lower, you’ll get more control on your shot next time, ‘kay? Yeah, just like that! Poppy stop poking people in the face with the stick please, I know you find it funny when it gets stuck but it could poke someone’s eye out.” The culprit in question sadly dropped her stick to the ice, and Sid didn’t even have to be near her to know her bottom lip was sticking out in a pout “Thank you.”

It was as Evie pushed forward on her skates with a puck at her feet that something whacked Sid softly on the bum with enough power to send him trailing forwards slightly, but he didn’t take his eyes off the girl in front of him, who sent a powerful slap shot towards the goalie, and the puck couldn’t even be seen until a ding! echoed in the back of the net. Sid huffed a laugh, “Wow, Evie, that was incredible! Keep it up.”

She flashed him an awkward thumbs up, the gloves interfering with the action, and Sid mirrored it before finally turning his attention to a rather beloved blonde. Nate’s brows were halfway up his forehead, mouth contorted like he’d also just breathed a quiet ‘woah’ under his breath, and when he registered Sid was even looking at him, his face melted into one that had become rather synonymous with another person in his life. Nate always smirked when he was about to bring you up to Sid. There were a few occasions where he’d read the room and approached the topic with a bit more consideration, but it appeared this time was no different to usual.

“Kind of reminds me of a certain someone when they were that age, huh?” 

Sid clenched his jaw, trying not to give away just how true that statement really was, before muttering a quick, “You’re too young to have known what she was like at that age.”

Nate made a sound that came from the back of his throat, a short huff of laughter passing his lips, “Dude, you’re so easy to read.”

Sid shook his head, “Next!” Another kid skated forward, and both professionals watched as the goalie caught the puck safely in their glove before chucking it across the ice in their general direction.

“Hey, if you want to skate around for a bit, I can watch this drill.” Nate said, intercepting the puck and adding it to the small pile that had slowly been accumulating next to the boards.

Sid frowned, a crease forming between his brows, “Why?” He drawled, rather suspicious of the sudden generosity.

He had a feeling he knew what it was about, but he wasn’t going to speak ahead of himself and make matters worse – Nate already had enough teasing material when it came to his silent pining.

“It’s pretty obvious you’re distracted and it’s been killing me and Taylor watching you. She’s over there,” Nate lifted his stick, pointing to the opposite side of the rink, where Sid could only just now make out the back of your head. He had no idea what had caught your attention so much as to have your back facing the ice– “There’s a little kid on the other side of the glass with a mini-stick. She’s been pulling faces for the past five minutes, and I just thought I’d warn you before you…y’know–”

“Nate, what the eff?” Sid hissed, watching wearily for any kids overhearing. 

“I’m just kidding. Kind of.” He grinned, “Go say what you need to say and then come back.”

Sid rolled his eyes, but still patted Nate gently as he skated by, “Thanks.”

Nate just shook his head, waving him off, and Sid took that as his signal to skate away, ignoring the undoubtedly humorous glance Taylor was giving him. It was bad enough that they’d noticed what he was doing at all, let alone to have it pointed out right to his face. 

He pushed loose pucks out of the way, skating right around several different drills before crashing into the boards right next to you, his face pressed against the glass to see…three different dribbling toddlers staring up at you both. One had an armful of teddies, the other was wearing a Pens PJ set and the final one was holding a mini stick, the ball left forgotten behind them.

You didn’t even need to turn your head from where you’d leant it against the glass to know who it was that had rather abruptly pulled up beside you. Not only was the side of his face in your peripheral vision enough, but the faces of the parents sitting in the seats were enough to go by. Everyone seemed to sit straighter, smiles a little bit wider at the sight of their local boy interacting with a small herd of toddlers who obviously had no idea who he was.

Except…the kid with the mini stick dropped his fingers from his mouth, stick lazily pointing in Sid’s direction, and even through the glass you could make out the vague words of "Siddie Cosby!” and the excited smile on his face.

Sid waved, spinning the cap on his head the other way around so he could also press his forehead to the glass, and you laughed softly, breath fogging up the panes for a brief moment. The sound had him tilting his head slightly so he could look at you.

He wasn’t sure if he was smiling before he’d turned – he had to have been, though, surely? – but he felt himself smile, if not more than he had been. It was unconscious, like a reflex made worse because you were just so infectious to him.

“Hi.” You muttered lowly, catching him out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t turn your face away from those kids, still pulling funny faces no matter how demanding of your attention he was. You could look at him all you liked later, but for these kids, their moment was this moment.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. Really, you just felt a little too shy looking at him with all those people watching from the stands.

“Hi.” He grinned, also turning his attention back to the kids. The one with the hockey stick suddenly banged on the screen right in front of him, and even despite his quick reflexes, he couldn’t help jumping at the sudden noise in such close proximity.

The kid just giggled, and when Sid cast his eyes to the seats, heart racing in his chest, some of the parents were trying to hide their own laughs behind their hands. 

He almost forgot he had an audience.

His tongue darted out nervously to wet his bottom lip, and he felt you look at him rather than saw you do it, “Are you coming to my birthday party tonight?”

There was a brief silence between you both, and you struggled to hold in a laugh as Sid registered what it was that he’d just said. His eyes closed and he leant his forehead against the glass, sighing hard enough to fog it up.

“Yes.” You answered, tone full of amusement. 

His eyes opened and he twisted his head, still resting against the glass, “Can I pick you up at five?”

You blinked.

His party starts at seven.

It was probably the easiest yes of your entire life.

[colorful-bees]

Today's the day I talk about the White and Black memory from the Memory Link in B2/W2.

Not only is a good insight to the mindset of the Team Plasma members who are still loyal to N after the events of the first games, it's also one of the few moments in the games where the abuse N went through is actually drawn attention to in a situation where N isn't directly present. Most of the time, we're painfully aware of N's situation when it's a conversation between N and Ghetsis but this is an interaction between two random Plasma grunts where they talk about it from their perspective.

Something to note is they still call N "Lord N". They haven't magically changed their mindset. They don't call Ghetsis "Lord Ghetsis" anymore either, he's just Ghetsis now. They still are very much in that culty mindset, they're just wholly aligned with N now, rather than Team Plasma as a whole and as such, he's the only one with a title. Their a bit more moral but their unhealthy reverie towards N remains the same.

Back to my original point, it's one of the few times we see N's situation acknowledged by other characters. Other notable examples are when talking with Anthea and Concordia in the Driftveil Safehouse. While these are very brief moments, both conversations use very evocative words to describe what happened to N. Anthea and Concordia describe N as being "groomed" into a role while the Team Plasma grunts call what happened to N "disgusting. It almost feels a little strange when the characters acknowledge it. We see it happen and we know all about it but it feels much more real when the characters around you mention it and it's brought up so infrequently, it almost feels like you're not supposed to talk about it; it's jarring and uncomfortable when it is.

It also becomes interesting when you take into account how the Neo Team Plasma members feel about N, often referring to him as a traitor and an idiot, which implies they either didn't hear about what N went through or, more likely, they simply don't care; he was Team Plasma's key to victory and to power and it doesn't matter to them what was done to him for that to be his role. There's a reason Neo Team Plasma follows Ghetsis and it's because they align with his views; I wouldn't be surprised if they also viewed N as less than human just like Ghetsis does and as such, don't even view his suffering as suffering to begin with.

[yanderes-galore]

Hey! requesting some HCs for Ranni (Elden Ring). Thank you!

I watched her cutscenes, I watched her lore, and I'm still not entirely sure what's going on but that's normal for this kind of game. Pardon me if there's something wrong in this concept... I am trying. ALSO, the term "Elden Lord" is used, but it's gender neutral just like in the game.

Sorry if it isn't intense... I will appreciate feedback from the Elden Ring fans.

Yandere! Ranni the Witch Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Isolation, Stalking, Dubious relationship.

I imagine Ranni's darling is the one who helps her achieve her Age of Stars.

You are her Tarnished who came to her at her call.

She needs someone to help her achieve her fate and destiny.

For most of her obsession, you may actually be a willing participant.

Right up until the end when you begin to realize something may be off.

Like most of Elden Ring's yanderes I feel, Ranni isn't all that intense.

She'd mostly watch her obsession through their journey to aid her.

She watches you closely, even if you may not know it.

She sees how you interact with her cohorts and how you fight in battle.

You are a promising Tarnished in her eyes... She can tell through the way you speak and fight.

Sooner or later, she'll deem you the perfect Elden Lord for her new age.

To Ranni, meeting her obsession was yet another destiny she was meant to meet.

To her, you two were always meant to be.

Her chosen Elden Lord.

Her obsession would span throughout her side quest to get the Age of Stars ending.

Since in that ending... Ranni and The Tarnished (you) marry as God and Elden Lord.

That would be the general story idea... Ranni obsessing over her most devoted helper.

At the beginning, she tries not to show much of her favoritism.

Although, by the time you defeat Radahn and unfreeze the stars, she shows her fondness more.

In terms of her overall behavior, I imagine she's mostly the observing type, watching you from a distance and praising your efforts when you meet her.

Ranni prefers to meet you as her larger life-sized doll form.

However, when you pick up her smaller form, she doesn't mind the idea of being held by you while you share a conversation.

Her obsession is unintentional.

She originally doesn't think you'll survive her requests.

Yet when you prove yourself by meeting her again... she thinks you'll prove to be useful to her for her plans.

Then from there... the moon witch begins to grow fond of you.

She's a subtle manipulation yandere, instructing her beloved to follow her every word like a divine command.

She watches over them through her dolls, often wondering when their next meeting will be.

Her obsession starts as curiosity.

As if she's wondering if you'll really be someone she can trust.

However, once you retrieve the lost treasure of Nokron...

She knows you're hers.

Before you even find the Dark Moon ring, Ranni has claimed you as her Tarnished.

You are not loyal to any other covenant, just hers.

Which must mean she has your heart, body, and soul as hers.

In a way, like other yandere covenant/religion leaders or deities, your loyalty makes her feel she has a claim over you.

To differ from canon a bit, maybe Ranni instructs you to find the Dark Moon ring.

She doesn't tell you for what, a subtle trick.

She just gives you small lies, deceiving you by saying it was a gift from her mother that she wants back.

Then she instructs you through her smaller doll to find her location.

Unlike in the game, where she's surprised you are choosing to be her Elden Lord...

She would deceive you into being hers once you slip the ring on one of her fingers.

This is a yandere story, after all, a dark romance.

Her deceiving her Tarnished, her obsession, into being hers in her new age would be something she'd do.

You aren't quite sure what you've done until Ranni appears, claiming you to be her Elden Lord.

There's a ghost of a smile on her face while she watches your shocked expression.

As if challenging you to rebel against her now that such a ritual has been done.

She doesn't think you'll refuse if you've gone this far to listen to her.

As her new consort, you are given the task of removing her old cohorts and defeating her Shadow, Blaidd.

Then after that, she oversees you defeating Queen Marika... Radagon... her traitorous parent of a dreaded Golden Order.

By the end of it, Ranni appears to greet you and the shattered corpse of Marika.

You can't help but feel a chill run down your spine.

Ranni merely greets you with a smile yet again, thanking you for helping her achieve her Age of Stars.

Unfortunately... You cannot part from her now.

Every God requires their Elden Lord.

Their consort.

It doesn't matter if you try to back out now or agree.

Your fate and destiny are sealed.

She may have tricked you, yes...

But she assures you she does it out of love, she only feels love for her beloved consort.

She takes your hand... and you just feel cold.

She grins teasingly, leaning closer as she congratulates you...

A cold kiss cooling your warm lips.

You two are meant to be together now... forever in her new age...

You'll be hers forever...

Just the two of you, overseeing the people in the Age of Stars... Together forever... Just as destiny told her.

You can't fight your destiny... no matter how hard you try... she'll always just tug you back with a kiss... She's as cold as the Dark Moon itself.

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

(For those wondering, Rita's Birthday is actually September 19th. )

Ironically enough, the reason why I wasn't able to post something on her birthday was because I was swamped with work thanks to an unrealistic deadline.

But hey, better late than never right?

As an apology to Rita and to you all, I wrote a "little" birthday story detailing how her "Birthday Cookies" came to be!

It was almost two weeks before the date when you found out Rita's birthday was coming up.

It was purely unintentional. You see, you spotted her open planner when she asked you to grab something off of her desk. Most of the days on her calendar had a note or two written in black text, however September 19th was the only exception. She had used a cute little birthday sticker that, you presumed, came with the planner.

At the time you made a mental note of it before fetching her the document she requested and getting back to work. However, that was the moment you knew you wanted to do something special for her. Like you, she had recently moved to the island and had really only focused on getting the bookstore up and running before getting consumed with work. From what you had seen she hadn't really socialized much outside of work, so the chances of her actually having birthday plans were slim.

However you intended to fix that! After all, she was the best boss you had ever had. She was kind, patient, hardworking, responsible, understanding, and made it a point to check in on how you were doing often. It was hard NOT to want to do something special for her given just how much you appreciated her.

During the following two weeks you made it your mission to learn as much as possible about her preferences. You didn't want to outright ask her, otherwise it would be too obvious. So, you would make sure to subtly bring it up with customers whenever Rita was within earshot so she would, hopefully, join in on the conversation, or you would be able to naturally follow up on the topic later that day.

Admittedly it was a pretty round about way of collecting information, but you really wanted to make sure your plans were a complete and total surprise

You also invited her out to the local bakery one day during lunch when she seemed to have a particularly rough day dealing with a bunch of annoying teenagers. It was then and there you had learned that she actually hated cake.

Marcelo, who was in ear shot when she made the comment, couldn't help himself and asked why.  According to her, she was never a fan of the "cakey" texture and she HATED frosting. Marcelo couldn't hide his surprise and began listing a variety of cakes, most of which you had never even heard from before. However Rita had not only tried all of them, but disliked each and every one.

Poor Marcelo had to return to work defeated while Rita and yourself remained seated sipping on your respective drinks.

" If not cakes, cupcakes, or pastries, then what kind of sweets do you like?" You questioned, praying that she would give you something, anything, to work with.

She took a sip of her black coffee as she considered your question. After a few beats she finally answered.

" Chocolate chip cookies."

" Really?" You questioned, surprised by the simplicity.

" I know, I know, It's a pretty basic answer... but I can't help it. It's always been a bit of a comfort food for me. Nothing beats a warm freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. " She paused for a moment before continuing, a soft wistful expression on her face.

"Growing up my grandma would make them for us on Sundays and... Well, it was the highlight of my week." She answered with a warm smile as she glanced down at her coffee.

" I mean, I can't really blame you. After all chocolate chips cookies are a classic for a reason." You commented with a smile, only to earn a gentle and affectionate look from the woman before you.

Fast forward a week later and you and a handful of coworkers quietly arrived at work nearly an hour early. Thankfully you had a key to the back door and was able to slip in without much effort. You all spent the next hour quietly decorating the break room without alerting Rita of your presence.

So when she finally descended the stairs an hour later, she was surprised to find you all standing in the dimly lit break room shouting " HAPPY BIRTHDAY RITA!"

She nearly fell down the stairs in shock as she stared at all of you wide eyed.

" W-what on earth...?"

It was then you stepped forward with a wide grin, pleased that your birthday surprise for Rita had been a success.

Well, at least the surprise part was anyway.

" It's your birthday isn't it? We wanted to do something to celebrate! Now why don't you sit down? We have a few surprises up our sleeves." You said with a smile as you grabbed her arm and gently led her over to the couch to sit down.

It was then all of your coworkers presented their gifts and cards to her, thanking her for being such a great boss and how they'll miss her once they returned home for the winter. Fortunately Rita had recovered from the shock by then and politely thanked them all, chuckling along and having a wonderful time.

Once everyone else had given her their gifts, you were up to bat.

" There's one more surprise, so make sure to close your eyes okay?" You said with a smile.

Rita raised a brow before doing as she was told, a playful smirk on her lips. " Oh? What's next? A piñata?" She teased gaining a few chuckles out of your coworkers.

You slipped into her office where you had hidden away a plate of freshly baked cookies you had made earlier that morning. You popped them into the microwave one of your coworkers had relocated to Rita's office right before you started decorating.

Once they were rewarmed, you placed a little candle in the center cookie, thankful that the warm temperature allowed it to stick.

Once they were ready you finally headed out to Rita, carrying the plate of cookies. Placing the plate on the coffee table in front of her you told her to open her eyes before singing happy birthday as your coworkers joined in.

When Rita's eyes finally opened she was surprised by the lack of cake, only for her features to soften considerably once she realized why you of all people had given her cookies instead of a cake. Your coworkers had initially teased you for your choice, however after seeing her tearful and grateful reaction, it was clear that you had made the right decision.

The rest of the gathering went smoothly and despite it all, you all were still able to open up on time. Then most of your coworkers ended up leaving once the festivities were over since it was technically their days off.

It wasn't until nearly everyone had cleared out or gone to the front that Rita finally approached you.

" You know Y/N... I've never gotten birthday cookies instead of cake before." She commented playfully as her eyes shined with affection and mirth as she looked over at you.

" I know I know, an unconventional decision... You have no idea how much everyone roasted me once they realized what I brought instead of a cake." You chuckled remembering their reactions.

"but... I wanted to make sure the birthday girl enjoyed her birthday treat." You met her gentle gaze, a small knowing on your lips.

"Well, I'd say she more than just enjoyed it. Thanks Y/N. This is one of the best birthdays I've had in a really long time." And with that, she wrapped her arms around you in an incredibly warm and thankful embrace.

[frozen-orbit]

Being unaware sometimes has its perks. Because i didn't know what the title of TDP season 7 was when i first watched season 6, and i went through the whole thing wondering what it would be, cause all of the primal sources had been used already. It was not until episode 9, when Aaravos explained what was needed for the spell to free him from the pearl, and he mentioned an object related to each primal source and then said that it also needed love, that i thought "Well of course! Season 7 is gonna be 'Love'! That's it!". And then... well... i found out i was not quite right 😭................................ Or was I? 👀👀👀👀

I don't think this was unintentional. In fact, the more i think about it, the more i realize how closely related both of the concepts of love and dark magic are within the story. I know at this point of the show this might be obvious, but hear me out.

There's this idea of what love is, that has been constantly portrayed throughout the series. Sacrifice. Quotes such as "i did what i had to do", "i would do anything for you". We hear these kind of phrases and many of us immediately associate them with love, whether it is romantically, platonically, filially, etc. But also, almost all of these quotes have been said in the show referencing the act of dark magic.

And what does dark magic require? The unthinkable, atrocious actions, sometimes betraying your own morals for a greater good. Oh, but isn't that admirable? Isn't that romantic? To have someone destroy themself in order to save you? Why, that's the greatest act of sacrifice anyone could do! They did it for love!

This may be a distorted idea of what love is, but we can't deny the fact that these kind of actions are perceived as acts of love, both in our society and in the TDP storyline. And it's really interesting because those are like opposite concepts: love is good, dark magic is bad; love is life, dark magic is death; yet somehow, they've managed to put them together and the line between one another has become so blurry. Are they really that different? If any despicable action could be done in the name of love, wouldn't that be just as dark? Wouldn't that also corrupt one's soul?

Honestly, i'm so excited to where the writers would go with this, but i don't know if it'll be that much in the face. My guess is that some character would do some huge sacrifice that would divide opinions on whether it was an act of love or an act of iniquity. What do you think?

[dixons-sunshine]

Ticklish | Scud Frohmeyer x Fem!Reader

The sun had just began its slow descent down between the mountains. Outside, the songs the birds so merrily sung each day began being replaced by the sounds of crickets and owls hooting in the distance. The usually bustling streets of your neighbourhood were surprisingly quieter than most days, and it appeared to be the perfect night to stay in and watch a movie with your boyfriend.

However, Joshua Frohmeyer could be an unpredictable man, and somehow you ended up on your back on his mattress, his body hovering over yours. But instead of doing far more pleasurable activities in that position, your boyfriend had other plans.

“Josh!” your voice rung out through the air, the sound being punctuated with the shrieks of laughter that you emitted. “Please!”

Scud’s own chuckles filled the air of your room. However, the man did not cease his attacks. His hands continued their relentless onslaught, his fingers working at your sides, which just so happened to be one of the spots you were most ticklish. Your sides were being playfully tormented by your boyfriend’s work-worn hands, and there appeared to be no escape from his attacks.

You squirmed around to attempt to flee from him, but Scud held you firmly in place. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes from the continuous laughter, and you were happy that the day walker wasn’t in that night, because you were sure he would have barged in to complain about the noise.

“Baby, please!” you pleaded with Scud, your hands trying to push his off. However, your attempts were futile. “Josh!”

Your next move was entirely unintentional. You were only trying to adjust your leg. You hadn’t intended for your knee to bend, and you certainly did not intend for your knee to make contact with Scud’s crotch.

Scud’s attacks finally let up, but not in the way you had wanted. He groaned in pain and rolled off of you onto his back, his eyes screwed shut. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned painfully.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what you had done. You scrambled into a seated position, your eyes trailing over Scud as you contemplated whether or not you were allowed to touch him after that. “Oh my god,” you whispered in horror, remorse evident on your face. “Josh, I am so fucking sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. I am so sorry, Baby.”

“Pretty sure you didn’t have to resort to violence, Babe,” Scud told you, his face still scrunched up in pain. He opened one of his eyes to peer at you. “Fuck. That really hurt.”

“I’m so sorry, Josh,” you frantically apologized. “I really didn’t mean—”

“Ain’t gonna be able to have kids after this. You kneed me really hard,” Scud interrupted you, a faint, teasing smirk on his face.

You noticed the playful look in his eyes, and realization dawned on you. “You’re taking the piss out of me, aren’t you?” you questioned. You got your answer in the form of Scud’s laugh. You playfully hit him on his arm. “You jerk! Did I even really hurt you?”

“Nah. You kneed my thigh,” Scud admitted with a hearty laugh. “But I couldn’t help myself. I had to.”

You let out a small scoff, but a smile still graced your features. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

“Yeah, and yet ya love me.”

“I do,” you agreed, shaking your head. “Against my better judgement, but I do.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Encore.

Pairing: Yandere!Fontaine Trio x Lumine (Genshin).

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Kidnapping, Nonconsensual Touching, Loss of Bodily Autonomy, Implied Stalking, and Bondage.

Lumine felt the heat of the fire, first.

She’d been left too close to it – its mild warmth allowed to build and burrow into something strong enough to sear. Her arms got the worst of it where they were bound behind the back of her chair, and then to a lesser degree, her legs, still somewhat affected by the damp, bone-deep chill that came with spending any amount of time in the tunnels that ran underneath Fontaine with any amount of bare skin. Clearly, her yet-to-be-decided kidnappers were either unconcerned with her comfort or, more worryingly, overconcerned to the point of unintentional negligence. She’d been held hostage plenty of times, but neither the Fatui nor the Abyss had ever bothered to keep a hearth lit in her cell.

Less alien, though, were the restraints she’d woken up bound by. Her wrists were tied behind her back with some kind of heavy, coarse rope, and she was blindfolded – the cloth thick enough to smother everything but the vaguest outline of the room she’d been left in. She grit her teeth, testing the rope’s durability before turning her mind towards solutions more creative than brute-strength. She didn’t have a weapon, and her elemental powers ranged from unhelpful (she doubted dosing herself with water or sprouting weeds would do her much good) to hazardous, lest she accidentally electrocute herself while trying to wear through the rope. If she’d known that she’d be in a situation like this, she would’ve gone to Natlan first. At least, then, she’d stand a chance of burning through her restraints without—

“Ah. Careful, there, darling. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself so early on.”

Lumine didn’t realize she’d been unconsciously pulling at her bondage until she stopped moving entirely, going rigid. It hadn’t occurred to her that there’d be a guard – someone waiting for when she came-to.

And, even if it had, she never would’ve imagined that guard’s voice sounding so familiar.

It took her a second to find her tongue, another to dredge up the motivation to use it. Even then, her voice was uncharacteristically meek – weak from disuse and muted by unwillingness. “…Lyney?”

“The one and only!” He was, evidently, not quite so downcast. She felt gloved fingertips skirt over her temples before finding the blindfold’s knot and gracefully undoing it. The cloth was pulled away with a dramatic flourish, and Lumine blinked against the dim light – practically nonexistent save for the gentle glow of the fire – before turning her attention toward her surroundings. She’d been right – they were keeping her underground. Stone embraced them on all sides, the walls unadorned and the furniture limited to a wooden worktable against the far wall, the hearth burning into her back, and the surprisingly nice armchair she’d been restrained to. There was a single exit, but even if she hadn’t been so firmly rooted to where she was, it wouldn’t have been a possibility. Left posed on the threshold, poised and waiting to be acknowledged, was Lynette – her unblinking gaze fixed on Lumine. As always, her expression was blank, ambivalent, but the way her tail thrashed at her feet conveyed… something. Lumine couldn’t be sure what, just yet.

Lyney cleared his throat, and with more than a little hesitation, Lumine turned back to him – her eyes already narrowed into a barbed glare. Considering the context, he was astonishingly casual (by his own standards, anyway). A dazzlingly bright smile was painted across his lips, his posture closer to that of a performer preparing to take the stage than a captor preparing to interrogate his prisoner. He was trying to act like himself, like she would’ve expected him to, but that might’ve been part of it – an attempt to disarm her. She bristled, curling her hands into fists and reminding herself that until she got out of here, he wasn’t a friend behaving strangely, but an enemy waiting for his chance to strike.

But, of course, he saw through her aggression as easily as she saw through his lack thereof, his smile taking on a slightly sympathetic note. “There’s really no need for that,” he said, with an airy laugh. “The last thing we want to do is fight you. Look, Lynette and I aren’t even carrying weapons. I can’t say the same for the guards down the hall, though – something to keep in mind if you’re thinking about making a run for it.”

She scowled, falling deeper into her anger where she couldn’t feign apathy. “Untie me.”

“So demanding, dear. Is that any way to speak to your host?” Another laugh, this one more full-bodied than the last. “Are you really in that much of a rush to leave?”

She was. This was already more civil than she had to be. “Why am I here?”

Lyney’s grin widened, his back straightening. He glanced towards Lynette, who responded with a shallow nod, before answering. “We heard you were going to leave Fontaine.”

Lumine remained unimpressed. “…and?”

“And,” Lyney went on, audibly eager. “You’ve done so much for our family, and for Lynette and I, and everyone was so distraught to hear you’d be going so soon. After some deliberation, we decided it would be better if you—” A pause, a dramatic rolling gesture, “—simply didn’t.”

She felt something at the base of her throat tighten. She’d had problems like this, before – Venti inviting her to Angel’s Share more and more often as her time in Mondstadt came to an end, Ningguang sending her on the most menial of errands to try and prolong her stay in Liyue – but she was used to the bittersweet sentimentality of friends, and the sour tinge that came with adding the element of distance into relationships that were once so close-knit. She was significantly less used to those friends trying to keep her around by force.

“I can’t stay in Fontaine forever,” she said, plainly. “You of all people should understand why.”

“Oh, of course not, we’d never ask you to stay in Fontaine.” He edged closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder as he rounded closer to the hearth. “Only that you stay with us. Father’s been very generous, too. She’s given us permission to use our information networks to keep searching for your brother, so there’s no need for you to keep travelling all alone and putting yourself in so much danger—” He cut himself off with a deep sigh, a slow shake of his head. “Just the thought alone is terrifying, isn’t it, Lynette?”

In her doorway, Lynette perked to attention. For a moment, she seemed unsure of whether or not she was meant to answer, but she made up her mind quickly enough. “…it is, brother.”

The cold blade of betrayal pierced Lumine’s chest, the strike sudden and deep. She did what she could to steel herself, to suppress her reaction, but more than she would’ve liked managed to seep through her defenses; a new stiffness to her shoulders, tension her jaw, little tells they’d both be able to pick up on. Admittedly, Lynette’s duplicity carried more weight than her twin’s. Lyney had always reminded her of Aether – bright and energetic, effortlessly charming and painstakingly emotional. Conversely, Lumine saw herself in Lynette. They both carried a sort of quiet coolness; an edge buried underneath thick layers of measured distance and calculated disregard. She’d thought (albeit, unfoundedly) that it might’ve been enough to breed some kind of unspoken respect between them. Or, some kind of mutual understanding, at least. Something strong enough to stop her from doing something like this. She must’ve been wrong, though.

(She had to be wrong. If she wasn’t, then she would’ve started considering the other commonalities her and Lynette shared, would’ve started to imagine what it would’ve been like if the roles had been reversed, it had been Aether rather than Lyney, if she would’ve gone along with an idea so delusional just because it’d come from the person she loved most. She would’ve had to admit, if only to herself, that the answer would’ve been yes, of course, without a second thought. The more time she spent away from him, the fewer things she wouldn’t do just to see his smile again.)

“He says your name in his sleep.” One of Lynette’s pointed ears twitched, her tail curling around her ankle, like she was biting back a smile. Her actual expression remained blank. “Frequently.”

Lumine heard Lyney huff behind her. “Well, I don’t think she really needs to know—”

“Loudly, too,” Lynette cut in, seamlessly. “It wakes me up, sometimes.”

To his credit, Lyney made a hasty recovery. His presence shifted behind her – disappearing momentarily before reforming at her side, his hand now on the arm of her chair. Carefully, he lowered himself to her height – as if hovering just outside of her peripheral wasn’t enough. “What my dear sister is trying to say,” he started, choosing the path of civility. Lumine had never noticed just how violently she disliked the saccharine cadence he so often spoke in, not before he’d decided he was only going to use it to coo at her with all the affection and all the patronizing confidence of an owner, savoring an excuse to talk down to a pet. “Is that we’re both very happy to have you here. She’d never say it out loud, but Lynette’s been especially impatient – she spent all of yesterday at the city’s gates, waiting for you to get back from your last commission.”

“Only because you asked me to, brother.”

“The only thing I’ve ever asked you to do is—”

Lyney pulled away from her, snapping toward his sister, and before he could realize he’d made a mistake, Lumine acted. She drove her heel into the ground and in response, a jagged spike of geo-infused earth broke through the stone immediately behind her, cutting through the rope binding her wrists and spearing the back of her chair, stopping less than full inch from impaling the base of her spine. Just as quickly, Lynette summoned her weapon, but it was too late – Lumine was already on her feet, her own sword already pulled from the gaps in reality and clenched in one hand while the other sent out a pulse of electro, creating a barrier of ozone and electricity between her and them. The edge of Lynette’s lips turned downward, the ghost of a scowl, while Lyney regained his composure, moving to take a step toward her before thinking better of it and, instead, moving to the left, placing himself between her and the doorway.

Lumine was unperturbed. “Drop your weapons and stand aside. I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to.”

“Oh, we can’t do that, love.” It was amazing, really – how he could be the only unarmed man in a room and still sound so condescending. “I’ve already told you about the guards, haven’t I? They’re not going to be as nice to you as we are.”

“I can deal with guards.”

“Always so stubborn. Even if we got on our hands and knees and begged, you’d probably still insist on making a fuss.” He stopped, laughed, the noise breathy and surprisingly remorseful. “I’ve always admired that about you, though. I know the same goes for Lynette, too.” 

Lynette’s gaze shifted to him, but only for a split second. A reluctant nod was all she provided by way of confirmation, but it was enough to earn the flash of a smile from Lyney before he went on. “Be honest, Lumine – is the idea of being with us really so unbearable?”

It was, but there was something about his tone that made her hesitant to say so. It was a lilt – cloying and desperate, just on the verge of cracking but not quite so dull as to be mistaken for total hopelessness. It was a tone she recognized, albeit not one she’d ever spoken in herself. It was a tone she remembered Aether using, any time he couldn’t stand not to get his way.

Lumine saw red.

It was clumsy, really, too rushed to be anything but doomed from the start – the unbalanced stance she took while preparing to charge, how rigidly she held her weapon as she imagined all the ways she could plunge her sword into his lying chest. A strong enough breeze could’ve thrown her off, but there couldn’t have been a breeze this far underground, and she wasn’t thrown – she was tripped. Her foot caught on a sleek sheet of ice that hadn’t been there the second prior, and before she could catch herself, it was creeping upward, encasing her ankle, her calf. The ice cracked as she fell to her knees, shattered entirely as another body barreled into her back and forced her to the ground. She moved to throw it off, but the blade of a sword was already pressed to her throat, Lynette purring contentedly behind her. “Please drop your weapon,” she said, her voice impassive in spite of the audible delight reverberating against Lumine’s back. When Lumine hesitated, she angled her blade upward, threatening to cut into the underside of Lumine’s chin. “There’s only so many times we’re going to ask, Lumine.”

Gritting her teeth, she let go of her sword, glaring miserably as it clattered to the floor. Rather than respond, she looked towards the doorway – to Freminet where he kneeled on one knee, his palm pressed to the floor and a trail of ice creeping outward from the point of contact. He was making a point not to look at her, with his eyes fixed on the ground and a small, metal box tucked under his free arm. “…I’m sorry,” he muttered, and for a second, she thought he was talking to her, that someone might actually admit how wrong this was. But, that meager hope was quickly snuffed out as he picked himself up and approached Lyney, offering him the metal box. “The trail tests ran longer than I was expecting. I meant to finish before she woke up.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s not as if any of this would be possible if it weren’t for you.” The box was accepted, Freminet pulled into a short, tight hug. Eventually, he pulled himself out of Lyney’s arms, earning a chirping laugh. “It’s alright – I know you’re happy, too. Go and see her, Lynette and I will take care of the rest.”

There was a moment of stalled reluctance, but soon enough, Freminet did as he was told. Lynette made herself busy – setting down her sword in favor of gathering Lumine’s wrists behind her back –as he kneeled in front of her, the faintest possible blush painted over his pale features. “Are you hurt?” She bared her teeth, and he flinched back, smiling. “Sorry, I guess you wouldn’t be, huh? It’s not like someone like me could ever do anything that’d hurt someone like you.”

His eyes shifted upward to his sister. Distantly, Lumine heard something unlatch, felt cool metal press into her wrists, but it was hard to focus on that when Freminet’s faint smile was quickly brightening, his attention darting back to her in an instant. “We were more worried about you hurting yourself, to be honest. We could take away your sword, sure, but finding a way to deal with your elemental abilities would’ve been trickier. It was Lyney’s idea, but, uh—” His eyes dropped pointedly to the floor. “—I did most of the work, to be honest.”

She opened her mouth, prepared to spit out something vile and hateful, but Lynette distracted her, letting go of her arms and shifting off her back. Slowly, cautiously, she pushed herself up and looked at her wrists, now encased by a pair of well-polished, silver cuffs – each inscribed with runes too small and too intricate for her to recognize at a glance. If she’d been in a better mood, she would’ve had to stifle a laugh. There was no chain, let alone something to tether her to. If they thought weighing down her hands would be enough to stop her from getting out of there, they were more delusional than she’d assumed.

Almost giddily, Freminet caught her hand, slotting it against his cheek. She tried to pull away, but he held her tight. “It’s alright,” he said, smiling, melting into her palm. “Try anything you’d like to. I promise, we won’t be mad.”

It felt wrong. It was wrong, but if only for a moment, frustration managed to overshadow her rationality. Again, she called for her electro – not enough to kill, just enough to stun – and—

And, to Freminet’s apparent delight, nothing happened.

Something in her chest cracked open and spilled out. Anemo was next, then hydro, geo, anything—  but all of it seemed suddenly beyond her reach, as intangible as it’d been when she first arrived to Teyvat. Her despair must’ve leaked onto her expression; Lynette’s purring grew louder as she nuzzled shamelessly into Lumine’s shoulder, and Lyney appeared at her side, his smile a mirror of that he wore after a particularly enthusiastic standing ovation. “It’s fantastic, Freminet, fantastic.” He was latching onto her side before she could stop him, any trepidation he might’ve once had now entirely gone. She tried to throw her elbow into his stomach, but he caught her by the arm effortlessly, pulling her against him and into a kiss so hasty and so forceful, she could feel her lips bruising by the time he pulled away, still grinning like a maniac. “You couldn’t possibly imagine how long I’ve been waiting to do that, my love.” And then, with his nails burrowing into her skin, “Or to call you that. Archons, it’s felt like an eternity.”

She was too stunned to think, let alone say anything, but Lynette was kind enough to take up the mantle. “Selfish as always, brother. You promised to hold yourself back.”

“I only promised to try, dear sister. And besides,” An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Our of terror or rage or some awful combination, she shut her eyes, but that wasn’t enough to block out the sound of his voice, to numb the feeling of his mouth moving against the side of her neck as he went on, eager to the point of cruelty.

“We have more than enough time to learn to share.”

[yaniiiiism]

hold my hand. -k.sm 💌

❀┆pairing : kim seungmin x fem!reader ͏ ❀┆ info : oneshot / twoshot ?? , a lot of fluff , and a lot of 'apparent' unrequited love (im sorry) , happy ending , cutesy , uni love , feelings and angst , short ! ❀┆ personas + bg : uni students ; dormmates w benefits ❀┆ word count : ❀┆warnings : cute and dread but dw happy ending yall notes at the end !!

✿　　　　( ˶ᵔ ᵔ) ♡　　　　˚　　　　☒

happy seungmo day !

♥︎ ! now, we share the same dream called, 'us'.

The night was thick with the kind of silence that made every little sound feel magnified. The rustling of her sheets, the faint crack of his breathing, even the soft creaks of the bed beneath her felt louder than the thoughts swirling around in her restless head.

She turned over again for what felt like the hundredth time, face buried in her pillow as she tried to will herself to fall asleep. 

But her mind was wide awake, racing in that frustrating way it did sometimes, hopping from one thought to the next with no intention of slowing down. The warmth from the body beside her, instead of comforting you into rest, only added to your awareness. 

He lay still, his back rising and falling gently in rhythm. His arm, usually flung over her waist, had fallen away sometime in the night, giving her space, but her squirming was testing the limits of even his patience.

A loud sigh slipped out, unintentional but filled with the kind of frustration she only felt when she’s tired, and can't do anything about it.

She felt movement before she heard him, the mattress dipping slightly as he shifted beside her. “Y/n,” he mumbled, his voice low and hoarse, dripping with sleep. "What are you doing?"

Startled, she froze. She hadn't meant to wake him. 

He really didn’t wake easily, so the fact that he was up meant she’d been tossing and turning for a while.

"Sorry," she muttered, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her as she turned on her side to face him. The dim light filtering through the window barely illuminated his face, but she could make out the mess of his hair and the way his eyes, barely open, squinted in her direction.

"Seriously," he continued, rubbing his hand over his face before letting it drop lazily on his bare chest, his voice thick with sleep. "Why are you moving so much?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, biting her lip. "I can't sleep," she admitted quietly. 

It was a stupid response, one that obviously didn’t explain why she was writhing like a fish out of water, but it was the truth. She just couldn’t sleep.

He blinked at her, clearly processing her words through his sleepy haze. 

Then, to her surprise, he shifted closer to her. His arm reached out, wrapping lazily around her waist, over the thin, black camisole she wore, as he tugged her towards him, pulling her into the familiar space against his chest.

"Then just stop moving," he murmured, his voice muffled by her hair as his lips brushed against the top of her head. 

He wasn’t fully awake, that was clear. 

This was Seungmin in his most unfiltered state, without the usual layers of sarcasm or that teasing grin he wore during the day. 

This was him in a space where he let her in more than either of them were willing to admit out loud.

His body was warm, radiating heat in a way that made her immediately feel guilty for disturbing him. His fingers, though a little clumsy with sleep, rubbed slow, lazy circles against her back.

The motion was surprisingly soothing. She let out a long breath, slowly sinking into him as her muscles began to relax.

"You’re restless," He murmured after a few seconds, his hand still moving against her back in that gentle way, keeping her anchored against him. His lips brushed the top of her head again, a ghost of a kiss that she wasn’t sure he even knew he gave. 

"Always overthinking."

She felt her chest tighten at his words. He knew her too well. And maybe that was why it was so terrifying—the way he could see through her, even in his half-asleep state. 

But at the same time, it was why she kept coming back, why she never left his bed after nights like these. He knew her, and despite that, he stayed.

"I’m not overthinking," She mumbled, but the words lacked conviction. He let out a small scoff that vibrated against her forehead, assuring her that he was definitely conscious yet sleepy. Cute. 

"Sure," he muttered, but his tone was softer now, less teasing, more understanding. His hand slid from her back to beneath her the fabric that hugged her waist, fingers tracing mindless patterns across her skin.

"Just... try to sleep."

"That’s exactly what i’ve been doing for the past—"

"Shush."

At his lazy voice and his hand slowly prompting her figure, she nestled deeper into him, her body naturally curling against his, her cheek resting against his collarbone. 

He smelled like the faint traces of his vanilla scented cologne mixed with warmth—Seungmin’s warmth, something uniquely his that made her eyelids feel heavier.

"Close your eyes, and don’t focus on anything other than sleeping."

"I’ll sleep if you stop talking,"

He let out a quiet, annoyed breath, his grip on her waist tightening just a fraction, pulling her closer to him. 

"You’ll sleep," he replied simply, his voice now barely above a whisper.

His body was comfortable, solid against hers, and his steady breathing began to lull her in ways her own mind couldn’t. 

The itch to move, to toss and turn, slowly began to fade as his fingers danced across her clothed waist, occasionally slipping under the hem of the same camisole once again to skim her skin.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, caught in a limbo between wakefulness and sleep, with his heartbeat beneath her ear acting as her lullaby. 

But eventually, the weight of the day began to catch up with her.

Just as she was on the cusp of sleep, she felt his lips brush against her forehead, barely there, like a secret.

"Sleep well," he whispered, so soft that she almost missed it.

"Night, Seung.." She whispered back, letting herself finally fall into sleep, comforted by the fact that, for now, things were exactly how they were supposed to be.

No nonchalance. No heavy talks.

Just the quiet, unspoken connection that somehow made it all make sense.

— next morning. 

The first thing she noticed was the cold.

It wasn’t the kind of cold that came from a draughty window or a forgotten blanket. 

Not really. 

No, this was the absence of warmth—the absence of him. 

Her body, once cocooned in his embrace, now lay exposed to the chill of the early morning air. 

She blinked her eyes open slowly, the sunlight beginning to creep through the half open curtains, painting the room in soft shades of orange and gold.

But his warmth? Gone. Just like always.

With a heavy sigh, she turned her head toward the empty space beside her, the sheets already cooling where his body had been only a few hours before. 

The faintest outline of his presence was still visible—a wrinkle in the bedding, the faintest impression of his form in the pillow. 

But Seungmin? He was long gone.

It had become a routine by now, one she was all too familiar with. No matter how late the night before — no matter how close their bodies were tangled up in each other, or how intimate the way he held her — he always left before she woke. 

Sometimes, she’d wake in the middle of the night, find him still there, his arms snug around her waist, his breath soft against her hair. But by morning? Always gone.

She stretched out a hand, her fingers brushing against the cold pillow where his head had been, and a familiar pang of emptiness settled in her chest. 

It wasn’t like she expected anything different. This was their agreement, after all — being friends with benefits, emphasis on the “friends” part. 

No strings attached. No feelings to complicate things.

Just two music majors, as close as dorm-mates, fulfilling their hollow desires. 

Or at least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

With a groan, the girl pulled herself up into a sitting position, running a hand through her messy hair as she stared at the empty side of the bed for a moment longer. 

The apartment was quiet, the early morning stillness only punctuated by the faint sound of birds chirping outside the window. If she strained her ears, she could probably hear him in the kitchen, going about his morning routine like nothing had happened. 

Like they hadn’t spent half the night wrapped up in each other’s arms, skin pressed to skin, whispered breaths filling the silence between them.

Pushing the thought aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, the cool floor beneath her feet sending a brief shiver up her spine. 

She grabbed her robe from the back of the door and wrapped it around herself, over her camisole, tying the belt with a quick knot before stepping out of her bedroom.

As expected, he was already in the kitchen.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the small apartment, mingling with the sound of soft clinking dishes. He stood at the stove, back turned to her as he focused on whatever breakfast he was making. 

His hair was still slightly tousled, sticking up in a few places from sleep, but otherwise, he looked like his usual self — calm, collected, completely unfazed by the night before.

Yet, adorable. Enough for her to fold over. 

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his usual morning attire, and he moved around the kitchen with an easy grace, like he belonged there. 

Like this was just another normal day.

Because to him, it was.

Or, at least that’s what she assumed. 

She sighed, pushing the door of his room open a little wider as she stepped out of it, walking to the kitchen. 

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

Seungmin glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression unreadable as always, yet he gave her a tiny smile, which she knew was genuine. 

"Morning, insomniac." he replied, as if he hadn’t left the bed they shared, just an hour ago.

She made her way to the counter, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee from the pot he had brewed, a small smile tugging her lips at his reply. 

She leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers wrapped around the warm mug of coffee. She took a small sip, letting the heat spread through her as she watched the guy move around the kitchen with his usual quiet efficiency. 

But as she took another sip of her coffee, she couldn’t help but feel the growing weight of those unspoken feelings, the ones that clung to her chest like a secret she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She glanced at him again, the way his hair was still a little messy, the way he absentmindedly hummed under his breath as he cooked. Her chest fluttered, just a bit, at the sight.

“Slept well, did you?” 

His voice broke through her thoughts, casual as ever, but there was a softness to it – obviously since he already knew the answer, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

She shrugged, setting her mug down on the counter with a soft clink. “Surprisingly,”

He didn’t respond right away. He flipped the eggs with practised ease before turning off the stove, and when he turned around to face her, there was something unreadable in his eyes. His usual teasing smirk was absent, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.

She was sitting on the chair, fingers idly tracing the hem of the mug, gaze right on it but mind elsewhere.

For a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them heavy with all the things they never said. 

The guy’s heart did that stupid thing again where it skipped a beat whenever she seemed like that – he could see straight through her.

Her baby hair framing her face, the sunlight bouncing off of the curves of her head. Pretty, black, eyes concentrated on the green mug, carrying the same depth they always did, and he would oh so fondly dive into them.

“Coffee too strong?” he asked, breaking the silence as he moved to pour himself a cup.

She let out a small breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “It’s fine, just kinda tired,” she chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze. 

“How.. about you? Sleep well?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “Slept fine until someone decided to practise gymnastics at 3 am.”

His words were teasing, but his voice was gentle, and for some reason, that made her heart skip a beat again. 

She awkwardly smiled, scratching her arm, a habit she grew familiar with, and he knew it quite well.

“I’m sorry, I was– warm, okay?”

He chuckled, “Warm, and sleep-deprived but lost in thought? Yeah, I know,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on her for a beat longer than necessary before he looked away, focusing on his coffee instead.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He always knew. Even when she didn’t say anything, even when she tried to brush it off, he always knew.

She hated that about him. And she loved it too.

“Thanks.” She suddenly murmured, “I mean, for uh, h-helping me sleep. Last night.”

He smiled, this time, softer than ever. “It’s nothing. At least you had a good sleep after.. I don't know, weeks?” 

“It wasn’t that long!”

He shot her a look that she knew too well.

“Okay maybe it was. But that doesn’t matter for now,”

The corners of his lips curled up at her indignant reply, but he didn’t press further, simply shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. 

His eyes flicked back to her, soft and observing, and for a moment, he let himself get lost in the simplicity of the scene – the quiet morning, the soft golden light filtering through the windows, and her, sitting at the counter, her sleepy, tousled appearance making her look unfairly adorable.

For a while, they just stayed like that, bantering and sipping their coffee, the easy silence between them filling the room. 

It wasn’t awkward. It was never awkward with him. 

That was part of the reason she kept coming back to this – whatever this was. It was easy. Comfortable. 

But lately, that comfort had started to come with a twist – a knot of feelings tangled somewhere deep in her chest that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

His eyes were still on her, his teasing grin fading into something more thoughtful as the quiet stretched between them.

“You’re doing that.. thing again,” he said suddenly, voice low.

She blinked, tilting her head. “What thing?”

“The thinking thing. The kind that keeps you up all night.”

She felt her cheeks flush slightly and quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her coffee instead. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he cut in, his voice soft but firm. He set his mug down on the counter and took a few steps closer, stopping just a foot away from her. 

“You get this look when you’re overthinking. Your eyebrows scrunch up, and you kind of space out, like you’re solving the world’s most complicated puzzle.”

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by how easily he read her. “So you stare, hm?” She grinned, trying to lift away the tension.

She didn’t know what to say, so she just stared down at her coffee, feeling a little too exposed under his knowing gaze.

“It’s kinda hard not to.” He replied a minute later, the same expression on his face.

“Well, I’m not always thinking about something.. deep.” she mumbled, but the protest was weak, and she knew it. “It’s just about uni, and other stuff, nothing to worry about.” She shrugged.

Seungmin just chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her chest flutter. “Sure,” he teased lightly, but then his voice softened. “Look, if something’s bothering you—”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she interrupted quickly, her gaze flicking back to him, trying to muster a convincing smile. “I’m fine.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You know, for someone who’s known me this long, you’re terrible at lying.”

She let out an exaggerated groan, sinking further into her chair as she covered her face with her hands. “You’re so annoying,” she muttered, but there was no real heat behind her words.

“I try my best,” he quipped, the smirk back in full force. But then his expression softened again, and after a beat, he reached out, his hand ruffling her hair gently. “But seriously, Y/n. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

She peeked out from between her fingers, surprised by the sudden contact. His hand was warm, his touch soft and uncharacteristically gentle. She wasn’t used to this side of him—the one that was careful with her, the one that wasn’t constantly teasing or sarcastic. It made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice small.

He gave a small nod and pulled his hand back, leaning against the counter again like nothing had happened. “Good.”

The room felt warmer now, despite the cool morning air seeping through the windows. Her heart was beating a little faster, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of his touch or the way his gaze lingered on her for just a second too long.

She cleared her throat, desperate to break the tension that was creeping in. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “What’s for breakfast?”

– almost 5 minutes later.

“You know,” she spoke, her voice casual now. “You’re really good at this.” She took a bite of the toasted bread, looking at him.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, flipping the last omelette, eyebrow raised. “Good at what? Making breakfast?”

“What? No,” she said, shaking her head with her eyes judging him. “Why do you think I don’t let you make lunch or dinner? I don’t want to be fined because someone blew up the oven.”

“Hey, I'm not that bad,” He glanced her way, defending himself. “I’m literally making breakfast right now.”

“You’ve cooked the same eggs or burnt pancakes for breakfast for almost 4 weeks in a row, Seungmin.” She rolled her eyes, speaking again. “But, what I meant was.. you’re good at comforting me.”

For a second, the air between them shifted, the teasing banter falling away as her words hung in the space between them. He turned fully to face her now, his expression softening as he met her gaze.

“Well,” he said slowly, his voice soft, “you make it pretty easy.”

Her heart did that stupid fluttering thing again, and she quickly averted her gaze, suddenly feeling shy under his intense stare. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, though her voice lacked the usual bite.

He chuckled, his smile reaching his eyes as he turned back to the food, finishing plating the eggs and toast for himself. “Maybe,” he admitted, sliding on the chair beside her. “But only for you.”

She blinked, silently, as her heart skipped a beat at his words. She stared at him, but he didn’t seem fazed by what he’d just said, casually sitting down across from her and taking a bite of his toast like he hadn’t just made her entire world tilt on its axis.

Oh, but little did she know, he was as surprised as her at those words leaving his mouth. The fluttering feeling inside his heart, the way she was looking at him, when he tried so hard to act nonchalant.

She picked up her fork, her hands suddenly feeling clumsy as she poked at her food.

⠀⠀𓄳 ֹ ͏   ⊹   𓎆⠀.   𓂅  ֹ ͏⠀◯

a/n ♡︎

OMGGGG happy birthday to the love of my life my baby seungminieneeiensiseesn I STILL HAVENT COMPLETED LIX FIC. I AM SO SORRY YALL ILL POST WHEN I CAN 😞😞😞😞 exams start tmr kms this is a twoshot btw. so wait patiently for the final part tysmmm <3 plz reblog/comment/like if u like my fics <33 made another spam acc for skz @loveforseung ALSO I HAVE AO3 !! user's same as @loveforseung go follow !! making a masterlist for all of my posts, plz lmk if u wanna be a part of it ! <3 have a good day ~ – love, yani ♥︎

[merwgue]

Feyre, as the protagonist of the ACOTAR series, has committed numerous actions that could be considered criminal under real-world laws. Below is a breakdown of the crimes she could potentially be charged for, based on actions from each book, and the possible legal repercussions.

1. A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR)

1.1. Poaching and Trespassing

Crime: Killing a faerie in the form of a wolf while on Prythian territory without permission.

Real-World Equivalent: Illegal hunting (poaching) and trespassing on private property.

Potential Sentence:

Poaching: 1-5 years, fines depending on the severity.

Trespassing: Usually a misdemeanor, resulting in fines or up to 1 year in jail.

1.2. Complicity in the Death of Faeries Under the Mountain

Crime: Indirect involvement in the deaths of faeries during the trials set by Amarantha, even though she was coerced.

Real-World Equivalent: Manslaughter (unintentional but contributing to the deaths through participation).

Potential Sentence: 5-15 years, though her coercion and duress could mitigate this significantly.

---

2. A Court of Mist and Fury (ACOMAF)

2.1. Trespassing in the Spring Court

Crime: Entering and leaving the Spring Court without permission after forming ties with the Night Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Unauthorized entry onto sovereign territory.

Potential Sentence: Generally a misdemeanor, but with repeated offenses, it could escalate. Fines or up to 1 year in jail.

2.2. Destruction of Property (Spring Court)

Crime: Sabotaging and destroying part of the Spring Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Vandalism and destruction of property.

Potential Sentence: 1-10 years depending on the extent of damage, with potential fines or restitution.

2.3. Theft (Spring Court)

Crime: Stealing important information, documents, and assets from the Spring Court while pretending to be loyal to Tamlin.

Real-World Equivalent: Theft and espionage.

Potential Sentence: 5-15 years, depending on the value of what was stolen and its strategic importance.

2.4. Theft of a Magical Artifact (Summer Court)

Crime: Stealing Tarquin’s most powerful artifact, the Book of Breathings, from the Summer Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Grand larceny, theft of national/cultural treasures.

Potential Sentence: 10-20 years depending on the value and importance of the stolen artifact, including diplomatic consequences.

2.5. Involuntary Manslaughter (Tithe Refusal)

Crime: Refusing to enforce the Spring Court’s tithe, resulting in the death of the water-wraiths who depended on Feyre’s mercy.

Real-World Equivalent: Negligent homicide or involuntary manslaughter.

Potential Sentence: 5-10 years depending on the circumstances, though mitigating factors like lack of intent could reduce the sentence.

---

3. A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR)

3.1. Destruction of the Spring Court

Crime: Deliberately dismantling the political and economic systems of the Spring Court while acting as a spy for the Night Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Treason (though technically not against her homeland) or acts of war.

Potential Sentence: Life imprisonment or death penalty in certain jurisdictions, though a less extreme punishment could be 20-40 years for treason and sabotage.

3.2. Collusion and Espionage

Crime: Spying for the Night Court while pretending to align with the Spring Court.

Real-World Equivalent: Espionage.

Potential Sentence: 10-25 years for espionage, with potential fines and loss of any titles/rights in the Spring Court.

3.3. Accessory to Murder (Hybern Soldiers and the King of Hybern)

Crime: Being involved in the war efforts that led to the deaths of Hybern soldiers and the King of Hybern.

Real-World Equivalent: Accessory to murder or war crimes.

Potential Sentence: 15-30 years for accessory to murder, though wartime actions are often handled differently.

3.4. Imprisonment and Oppression of Illyrians and Hewn City

Crime: Complicity in the continued oppression of the Illyrians, including the mutilation of female Illyrians’ wings (although Feyre was not directly involved in wing clipping, her role in the Night Court hierarchy ties her to this systemic abuse).

Real-World Equivalent: Human rights violations, gender-based violence, illegal confinement.

Potential Sentence: 20-50 years for complicity in human rights abuses and gender-based violence.

Crime: Complicity in the continued imprisonment and oppression of the people of Hewn City, preventing their access to the privileges of Velaris and escaping abuse.

Real-World Equivalent: Conspiracy to perpetuate systemic discrimination and abuse.

Potential Sentence: 10-30 years, depending on the level of abuse and confinement they are subjected to.

4. A Court of Frost and Starlight (ACOFAS)

4.1. Illegal Occupation of Spring Court Lands

Crime: Continually crossing into Spring Court land and occupying or disrupting its governance, even in a non-violent way.

Real-World Equivalent: Trespassing, illegal occupation.

Potential Sentence: Fines, probation, or up to 1 year in jail.

5. A Court of Silver Flames (ACOSF)

5.1. Complicity in Abuse (Locking Nesta in the House of Wind)

Crime: Participating in the forced confinement of Nesta, who was struggling with mental illness, without a licensed mental health professional’s involvement.

Real-World Equivalent: Kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, endangerment of a mentally ill person.

Potential Sentence: 5-20 years, with charges depending on the level of harm caused to Nesta and whether it could be deemed abusive.

Summary of Potential Charges

1. Poaching and Trespassing: 1-5 years, fines

2. Manslaughter (Under the Mountain): 5-15 years

3. Trespassing in the Spring Court: Up to 1 year

4. Destruction of Property (Spring Court): 1-10 years

5. Theft (Spring Court): 5-15 years

6. Theft of the Book of Breathings (Summer Court): 10-20 years

7. Involuntary Manslaughter (Tithe Refusal): 5-10 years

8. Destruction of Spring Court: 20-40 years

9. Espionage: 10-25 years

10. Accessory to Murder (War Crimes): 15-30 years

11. Imprisonment and Oppression of Illyrians: 20-50 years

12. Complicity in the Oppression of Hewn City: 10-30 years

13. Illegal Occupation of Spring Court Lands: Fines, up to 1 year

14. Unlawful Imprisonment (Nesta): 5-20 years

Total Potential Sentence

If Feyre were to face all charges and be convicted, the total potential prison sentence could range from 122 years to life imprisonment, especially for the severe charges related to espionage, human rights abuses, and complicity in oppression.

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

I think a lot of the show was made precisely to not be taken too seriously. It's camp. I mean look at Esther.

I do agree with the bits of bad acting, and also the lore drops are terrible lmao but overall I think it's just what it was meant to be, you know? And the details that have been talked about, especially regarding costumes and set design, really were intentional as it was said in interviews. It's crazy to me how they managed to fit all of that at once — the good, the bad, the unintentional good and the unintentional bad

.

[uftopia]

every time i get sad looking at my art i just like to think about every single iteration of my style that has come before to build what i have now.

every line i put down is from unintentional learning and growth just from creating what i like

and i’d like to think what i’ve come up with in terms of art style is pretty unique, like i haven’t really seen anyone else draw like i have. feels good having what i have

[burtonsdoodles]

I just found this in my drafts from WAY BACK when I was first noticing loads of the mirroring moments in Lone Star and since the new season begins airing this week (not that I’m gonna be able to watch it, being in the uk where Disney + won’t put it on until well after… I’m gonna have to avoid so much stuff… 😒) i thought I’d just post it, because it’s these little connective moments that I love and appreciate so much in storytelling… and one of the reasons why 911: Lone Star will always remain a standout show…

Some of these are more random and possibly unintentional than others, but I noticed them and jotted them down anyway…

The “he’s impressive” moment…

101: Carlos to T.K. about Owen

110: Carlos to owen about T.K.

208: Owen to Gabriel about Carlos

“Soulmates”…

105: T.K.: [when asked about facing rejection] “116 days ago when I asked my soulmate to marry me and he moved in with his trainer instead”

416: Carlos: “I’ll say hi, you’re T.K., I’m Carlos and we’re soulmates”

The red jumpsuit… (the likelihood is someone probably just really this jumpsuit)

201: Worn by gwyn in her first scene

414: Worn by Tommy when she address the congregation

Cookies…

T.K. during ice storm plot - making cookies with Gwyn

Carlos in 404 - Trudy forcing him to try the cookie she made

Instincts…

208 - Carlos: I trusted my instincts like you always taught me. Gabriel: the thing is son, you’ve got to have the right instincts. (this breaks my heart every time!)

404 - Gabriel: my son’s resourceful and he can take care of himself. Grier: I have no doubt that’s how you raised him. Gabriel: no, he figured that out on his own. (I love this moment every time!)

Bad call…

208: Owen and Carlos’s heart to heart over smoothies - when Carlos didn’t actually make a bad call

418: Owen and Carlos’s heart to heart over whatever alcohol they’re drinking - when Carlos very nearly did make a bad call

Uniform…

208 - Carlos: not that I have a uniform at the moment

404 - Darryl: where’s your uniform?

We make a good team…

110: T.K. and Carlos

212: Owen and Gabriel

Hey Carlos. Hey ….

101: Carlos arresting Michelle

301: Carlos arresting Marjan

You sure this is where you wanna be…?

103: To TK: You sure you’re in the right place, man?

308: To Gwyn: Lady, you sure this is where you wanna be?

Milkman Judd…

411: Judd is the milkman in Mateo’s dream

417: Judd brings in Owen’s milk from outside

I know you’re [not] ready…

204: salim to marjan: I know you’re not ready to get married yet, but I am… just not to you

412: Carlos to tk: I know you’re ready to be a father. And I have no doubt that you would be an amazing one. But I’m not so sure I’m there yet… or ever will be…

And that’s as far as I got with it - I wouldn’t be surprised if there are loads more that I missed… and we’ll see what season 5 brings because I expect a lot will be coming with this final season… there already was one in the trailer and when I heard it I knew this was gonna be an epic finale.

[faroplagued]

[queermasculine]

"what do butch4butch couples even do" um this

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Suddenly, bell bottoms aren't so bad

Bonus sketch, because I had to vv

"Stop checking out my assistant, Stanley."