#law as a heart player... would that be too on the nose

[1pcii]

im a simple creature. i think about current interest + homestuck classpects and get so exited i pass out

[pinksugarscrub]

The Beauty Standard

Hobie Brown x fem! spider! reader

So...good luck? 😳 Octobie week one!!

Banner by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Event by @the-kr8tor

Word count: 796

Hobie isn’t a stranger to receiving bad looks. He calls attention to himself obviously. His suits change every week, he has a thick accent, and his hair defies the laws of gravity and physics. That didn’t change once he joined the spider society and contrary to popular belief, it did sting.

Hobie will admit he had this small inkling of hope that because he was (begrudgingly) connected to the other spiders, they would understand what it means to be an outsider. Miguel was his wake up call.

When he told Gwen his regular spiel about anarchy and being a runway model Hobie didn’t expect her to take it quite so literally. It sort of… gave him a confidence boost. To think that she believed he could be attractive enough to be in a magazine. Not that it mattered, the fashion industry was toxic and not environmentally friendly.

He always kept an eye out for the quote on quote outcasts. The outliers in and out of his universe. Hobie never wanted anyone to feel the sting of rejection the way he did. That's how you caught his attention.

Ever heard the term opposites attract? That could be applied to your relationship too.

Gwen said your universe was reminiscent of the 2000s. Something about boy bands and flip phones. Coincidentally you were also in a band. With your version of Gwen and MJ.

You were very colorful which is to say you did indeed, match his freak. Dyed hair, baggy jeans, belts- you get the picture.

The three of you became fast friends which led to sleepovers at his boathouse on more than one occasion. Today however, it was just the two of you. Sprawled out on his couch with his head on your lap which challenges the notion of the two of you just being friends.

Hobie’s eyes are closed in a blissful state as he feels your thumbs rub against his temples. His own hand caressing your thigh. The soft crackle of the record player accompanying the slight rocking of the boat.

Soon enough you were humming then singing quietly under your breath. If Hobie could melt any further he would be reduced to a puddle of pins and leather.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

Hobie mouths the next line and you smile. Tilting your head as you continue to admire him. The line of his jaw. The curve of his nose.

When you kiss me heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see “La vie en rose”

You don't even notice you’re leaning in but Hobie’s gaze is magnetizing. His emotions affect his color palette but now in his calm there are subtle shifts of pink and brown in his eyes. If you paid closer attention you would have noticed the newspaper cutouts of hearts.

You vaguely recall this position is similar to the one in the event Peters’ go through with their MJs’. Hobie’s hand moves up to caress your cheek and not so subtly drag you closer.

Before your lips can press to his you run your finger over the corner of his lips. Needing to say something before you word vomited everything in your heart.

“You’re beautiful.”

You're beautiful

You

Are

Beautiful

You grow concerned as Hobie’s eyes grow glossy and his skin changes to dark tones of blue and gray.

Your mouth is already poised with an apology when he sits up. You’re not sure what you’ve done wrong as you reach for him but hesitate, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach.

“Hobie I-”

Then he turns and smashes his lips to yours in a way that leaves you weak in the knees but maybe that’s due to how long you've sat cross legged with the weight of his body.

He holds you tight as if the idea of space between you is unfathomable. It would feel nicer if it weren’t for the fact you were still so worried.

You wait until he breaks the kiss to speak up but Hobie beats you to it. His forehead pressed to yours.

Hobie’s never felt so tongue tied as he tries to explain through the lump in his throat that he’s floored. How could he not be? The instant he saw the pure and unfiltered adoration in your expression it all felt surreal. The way you touched him like you were afraid to break him. Like he was perfect.

Hobie isn’t a stranger to bad looks but the one you just gave him will never be erased from his mind. He isn’t too dark or too tall. His features don’t make him less of a human being. He’s just Hobie Brown. A boy who has fallen madly in love with an equally beautiful girl.

Fuck the beauty standard.

~

Little context:

A theory was made that when Hobie revealed his face to Miles, he was expecting some kind of poor reaction. When Miles asks “how are you even cooler under your mask?” his expression changes. Compared to Miles he’s a lot more “loud” and lives in the 1970-80s where historically civil rights movements were high in Britain and were a direct result of the punk movement. So with Hobie’s distinct features the theory states he expected Miles to think he was unattractive.

Racism is cruel. Please remember that sometimes a kind word can mean all the difference and no matter what the world has told you it perceives you as, it’s wrong. You are all beautiful.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could I get an interaction between Riddle and Gidel please?

I imagine that maybe Gidel sneaks off while Fellow is busy schmoozing the other students during a croquet match or something and finds the kitchens and proceeds to just devour the beautiful strawberry tart in the fridge with his hands. But then, poor Gidel gets caught red-handed (lol) and with stuffed cheeks by none other than Riddle himself? Thank you!

Riddle and Fellow duke it out in a passive aggressive croquet game :DD

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Gidel had never been to a party before. When Fellow told him that they’d been invited to one, his little heart vibrated with excitement. He had heard many stories about the dancing, the music, the chatter, the games, the food—and longed to live those tales.

“You don’t have to do anything, Giddie. Leave the schmoozin’ to me and just enjoy yourself,” Fellow had told him.

And so here they were now, in a lavish rose garden.

Gidel was seated toward the front--a guest of honor, according to the dorm leader--but he was too short to properly reach the table, so the students had stacked a few books to boost him higher. He kicked his feet back and forth, taking in the liveliness around him.

Gidel was used to crowds (they were where he and Fellow often found their victims), but there was a fresh energy to this one. The conversation was giddy and effervescent, like the sugary drinks that came in metal cans and tickled his nose when it went down.

Above his head were strings of little flags and lanterns, and the tablecloths were so clean and free of holes. Few of the chairs and silverware matched, like the patterns in his clothes and the few items he owned. Such a thing, he had learned, was a source of shame and ridicule. "People don't like things that stick out. They look at 'cha dirty if you are," Fellow would grumble. Yet no one here seemed to be bothered by it. They lounged casually in those chairs that didn't match and drank tea from cups that had completely different designs.

More food than Gidel had ever seen in his life appeared as if by magic. It was served on tiered stands and in fancy pots. Finger sandwiches, elaborate cookies, cupcakes, clotted cream, jams, scones, and tea in various shades. An older boy in a hat and glasses had even ferried in a massive upside down cake, wider at the top and tapering into a narrow bottom. It defied all laws of gravity and had live sparklers stuck into the top. The server caught the curious glint in Gidel's eyes and offered a crooked grin.

Not the look of someone seeking revenge for almost being turned into a puppet. but the look of a mischievous older brother.

"Haha, excited to dig in? I'll cut you an extra big slice then," Trey whispered, "but remember to brush your teeth well afterwards. We'll get started after they finish up the croquet game."

Gidel followed his gaze to the open lawn.

Several students had gathered there, each grasping a live flamingo. Fellow casually leaned on his, talking in an animated manner with a short redhead in a crown. Riddle was angling his mallet on a curled up hedgehog--the ball--to force it through a series of grounded hoops.

He swung. His ball rocketed, clearing five hoops. The other player's jaws dropped. Fellow’s, most of all.

Riddle smirked. "Naturally."

“What the heck, how are you that good?!” Fellow demanded. He looked again, just to make sure that he was seeing things correctly.

Yup, that ball had still cleared 5 hoops.

“These are the results of much studying and practice. I do not lose.” His cold stare cut right to two boys—one with a diamond painted on his face, and the other, a heart. “Unlike some people, I do not sneak off of campus on school nights to seek thrills at an amusement park.”

Ace coughed into a fist and refused to meet his dorm leader’s eyes.

“Ehhhh~ No way, Riddle-kun! Who would do that? Sooo irresponsible of them!”

“D-Diamond-senpai, upperclassmen shouldn’t blatantly dodge responsibility like this…” Deuce muttered.

Riddle rapped his mallet against an open palm like a gavel tapping patiently before a sentencing. "In any case, Fellow-san… Would you care to go next as one of our esteemed guests? And to be clear, I will be keeping a close eye on you. There will be no foul play on my watch.”

Fellow gulped, but kept his cool. "Sure thing. Let’s have an honest and fair game, gentlemen!”

"Go easy on the poor guy, Riddle," Trey called to him. He left the table and wandered onto the field, clapping his friend on the back.

“I don’t see why I should,” Riddle retorted. He sounded vaguely irritated, but there was the trace of a held back laugh in his words.

Gidel smiled to himself. It was nice, the two’s camaraderie.

The sky was clear, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing. The roses were in full bloom.

It was a lovely day.

Gidel practically melted in his seat. He could stay at this party forever.

Bright blue fluttered in his vision. A tickling sensation filled his nose, and he rubbed at it to dispel the feeling. Had a piece of the sky fallen onto him?

Flap, flap.

A butterfly lazily floated off of Gidel.

The boy sat up straighter.

It was mesmerizing, that butterfly. With the sunlight streaming through it's papery cerulean wings, it almost resembled stained glass.

Pretty...

Gidel extended his arms out toward it, attempting to cup the bug in his palms. It evaded, dipping in the air and heading toward the Heartslabyul dorm.

He hopped out of his seat and trailed after the butterfly, waving his arms in an attempt to coax it back. But no--it vanished inside, and Gidel, like a foolish child being lured to a candy house in the woods, followed.

Gidel didn't pay any mind to where the butterfly led him. He only knew that he wanted to catch it, and so he would tread wherever it went.

Soon enough, he had wandered into the kitchen, fumbling around for the butterfly in the dark. For a heartbeat, the creature landed on a handle and rested there. Gidel pounced--but missed, and the butterfly, startled, hurriedly flew away.

He tried to go after it, but his sleeves, ensnared in the handle, caught and tugged something open. Cold light spilled out from the inside of a box, and Gidel knew this was called a refrigerator.

He peered in, wondering if the older brother from before had stored more goodies inside. Indeed, there were more sweet treats stashed away. Tall trifles, wobbling jellies, and...

Gidel's eyes fixated on a beautiful strawberry tart. Its crust, golden and ruffled like intricate lace. The custard filling, thick and creamy. Glistening red fruit had been sliced thin and meticulously laid out, the strawberries shaping into a blossoming rose.

His mouth watered.

He reached for the tart.

Before Gidel realized what he was doing, he had plunged his fingers into the innards. Scooping out custard and strawberries by the handful, he deposited them in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then went back for more.

So sweet, so delicious. He wanted more and more.

He broke off a chunk of the shell and bit into it. It was tough and crumbly. Gidel decided that he liked it better after dunking it in custard and eating it with a slice of strawberry.

Right as he had assembled a piece, a person appeared from the hallway. They stood in the doorway to the kitchen, their figure shadowed. Gidel squinted.

Whoever it was, they were short and wore a crown on their head.

The kitchen lights flickered on.

Riddle Rosehearts came into view. He wore a stern expression as he approached, steps brisk and sharp. "So this is where you ran off to. You had your guardian so worried he dropped his flamingo to look for--"

He skidded to a stop, staring at the mess of juices and crumbs at the feet of the fridge. Gidel crouched nearby, hands and clothes sticky and red or covered in traces of his crime.

Rage hit him like truck--speedy and sudden. Rules, broken? Decorum, ignored? His entire face turned crimson, steam threatening to pour from his ears.

Riddle's voice came, low and menacing. "You ate the strawberry tart meant for the unbirthday party and you made this mess?"

He advanced on the boy, raising his scepter.

Gidel blanched. Trembling terribly, he shrank into his oversized clothes like a turtle retreating into its shell. Warm wetness prickled his eyes. He whimpered without a single sound.

Riddle's scepter froze, as did his resolve. The fire that was his anger came in and out like the flame of a candle exposed to wind.

A sad little child. Scolded for having eaten a forbidden tart. Apologizing, sobbing, begging to not be punished.

Now who does that remind you of?

A dull pain radiated from the recesses of his heart. The plant called Pity had germinated, its roots opening a home for itself in his chest.

You aren't in the right here.

Riddle sucked in a breath through his teeth.

Like his therapist had advised him to do, he started at 10 and slowly counted down from it. Slowly, slowly, his fury subsided, like air being released from a balloon. Anger management magic.

When he spoke again, he was softer, gentler.

“… You are forgiven."

He wasn't used to it.

Riddle awkwardly offered a hand. “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up in the washroom. We can’t have you returning to the unbirthday party in this state.”

Gidel stared inquisitively at it. At him. The stranger with the temper, the stranger now asking for his trust.

But he had tried, hadn’t he? Tried, and succeeded in controlling his anger.

A moment’s hesitation, and Gidel slipped his strawberry-stained sleeve into Riddle’s palm. He nodded to the dorm leader.

Let’s go.

To where everyone is waiting for us.

[deusvmachina]

I'll say it with my whole chest that I believe that Songbird lying to V about the neutral matrix was never done out of malicious intent. She knew the risks of reaching out to V—for putting her faith in V out of sheer desperation and involving them in what would become a dire and bloody escape. She just wanted to stop losing more of herself physically and mentally to what's beyond the Blackwall, to stop being a weapon of mass destruction for Myers. A tool for the NUSA.

She joined their ranks to keep herself out of trouble for breaching that Militech data fortress (among other things I'd imagine). And she was probably hoping it was a huge opportunity to become one of the best netrunners with all of this top-of-the-line tech at her disposal but she just didn't realize back then that she'd be pushed into breaking international laws or be forced to reach beyond the Blackwell to the immense power beyond. She paid the price tenfold. So yeah, players can be mad that Songbird dangled a carrot (the cure) in front of V's nose. Most people likely are mad or feel played and that's valid. But the choice is there to not take that anger out on someone just as desperate to survive as V is and have them push through to the end and help as they had promised. V states several times throughout the game that they keep their word and do what they say they will do. V and Songbird are mirror images of each other: Songbird losing her memories/identity and organic body to the AIs just like V's brain is being forcibly overwritten by the biochip and her body is slowly degrading. During that conversation she and V had on the couch and through texts, Songbird expressed how she couldn't trust anybody in the FIA. She was alone. Wanted a way out.

Even Reed who thought he could help her was only making things worse. So when she discovered V and their dilemma (probably after she delved into the Cynosure Project is my guess), I say it's what drove her to finally break the (wires) and chains she'd been bound with. She devised a plan with Hansen—always two steps ahead as Reed had said—and reached out to V on the day of reckoning knowing them being in the same boat would be enough to make V fight like hell. It's possible she knew about V for weeks or even months prior. V can question (sorry, forget which part of the game they mentioned this) if perhaps a 'backdoor' was created when she went past the Blackwall with the Voodoo Boys. Songbird then used the Blackwall protocol to tap into the Relic, as confirmed by Slider.

The stakes were too great so Songbird withheld the truth, not wanting to chance V refusing to help her otherwise. She didn't have anyone else, didn't have much time left either so she lied.

I think it boils down to this: V can decide to put someone ahead of her own survival and sacrifice that guaranteed cure OR she can be just as shitty as Myers and let Songbird be the pawn that's sacrificed. What separates humans from anything else is how we are driven by our emotions and our hearts. We take leaps of faith and we make mistakes but what matters is the content of our character. Sometimes 'doing the right thing' isn't doing the right thing.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. And I leave you with this quote:

"I always marvel at the humans’ ability to keep going. They always manage to stagger on even with tears streaming down their faces." —Markus Zusak

[naesarangyunho]

Patronus- Jeong Yunho (Harry Potter AU)

[I don't own these images credits to the original owners]

SFW

Synopsis: Just a cute little piece of domestic Yunho and y/n but with magic. I've wanted to do a Harry Potter AU for so long so I decided why not write one with soft Yunho.

Contains: fluff, husband! Yunho, father! Yunho, Harry Potter terminology, Yunho is a professional Quidditch player because I say so

[Word Count: 2k]

Y/N had been slaving away in the kitchen for most of the morning, preparing a large meal.

Her in-laws were visiting for Sunday lunch and she wanted everything to be perfect.

Her feet ached from standing for so long and even though she knew that she could cut the time it took for her to cook and bake in half with the use of her wand, she was determined to avoid using magic. She'd always firmly believed that food should be made by hand and with love.

As she finally placed the two pies she'd been working on (one of her signature apple crumbles as well as a beautiful blackberry pie) in the oven she felt arms snake around her waist.

She was pulled back into her husband's chest and felt him kiss her neck. She chuckled and turned around in his hold to wrap her arms around his neck.

"What's up? Are you missing me?"

He nodded, "You've been busy all morning. You know you don't have to go through so much effort, my love. My parents love you and would probably be satisfied with meat, rice and that amazing kimchi you always make."

"I know; they've said so before but I still want everything to be perfect. It's not often that they come to visit us in England."

He cupped her face in one of his hands and pecked her lips, "I love you."

She smiled and pecked his lips, "And I love you."

He grinned and pulled her tight against him, leaning in to kiss her properly. She sighed happily against his mouth as she returned the kiss.

They kissed slowly and softly, just enjoying the embrace of their lover and the faint music that Y/n had playing softly in the kitchen to keep her motivated as she cooked.

He ended the kiss all too soon and kissed her nose and then her cheek as he began to slowly rock them to and fro in time with the music.

She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself be swayed, listening to him hum softly to the music.

Their warm, loving bubble was pierced by loud, high-pitched cries.

Yunho and Y/n both sighed heavily at the sound.

"Looks like someone still doesn't like naps," Y/n muttered.

"I think she just gets lonely," Yunho chuckled.

He gave his wife a quick kiss, "You finish up in here, I'll go and take care of Haneul."

"Thank you." Y/n gave him a grateful smile. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, too busy attending to their eighteen-month-old daughter who was still unable to sleep through the night. Usually, she and Yunho took turns to go and check on her but he'd been dead asleep last night and she hadn't had the heart to wake him. Being a professional Quidditch player was taxing sometimes, and he was always exhausted after matches.

Yunho left her to finish up in the kitchen and disappeared down the hall to their daughter's nursery.

It wasn't long before she heard the wails of her baby be replaced with giggles. She smiled to herself; Yunho had always been so good with kids.

She wondered what he'd done this time to get her to stop crying. Last time he'd Accio-ed a chocolate frog into the nursery and set it loose. Not ideal but Haneul had found it very amusing.

She set a timer for the pies and took off her flour-dusted apron before making her way to her husband and daughter.

She'd expected him to be doing something silly like making her toys float around the room like he often did but instead she was greeted by the sight of him sitting on the carpet with Haneul in his lap as his Patronus lit up the room.

She gasped softly as she watched the golden retriever bound through the air, tail wagging and mouth open with silent barks, casting a white-blue glow over the room.

It was beautiful and something she hadn't seen in a long time.

Haneul was mesmerised by the imagery and her little mouth was open and curved into a big smile.

Yunho was smiling too, looking between his Patronus and his daughter's face to watch her reaction.

She'd never seen his Patronus so strong and stunning. It had always been something he struggled with back in the day in school, earning him subpar grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It had never been a case of struggling to find a happy memory; he just had too many and could never really settle on one to focus on specifically. He would flip through his happy memories as if turning the pages in a photo album as he cast his Patronus and the constant changes in thought as he struggled to focus on one specific memory would cause the Patronus to flicker in and out of existence or have it fighting to stay lit up.

She wondered what had changed. Had he been practising or something?

He spotted her standing in the doorway and blushed. His Patronus faltered and then dissipated as he lost focus and looked at his wife.

Haneul let out a squeak of confusion at the sudden disappearance of the doggy she wanted to play with and she looked up at her dad.

He kissed her hair, lifted her and rested her on his hip as he walked over to his wife.

"Hey,"

"Hey," She responded with a soft smile, "That was beautiful, Yu."

"I… Thank you." He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, the tips of his ears red.

"And then? Why are you so coy all of a sudden?"

"Nothing. I suppose it's just been a long time since I cast a Patronus or since you'd seen it." He responded, bouncing Haneul gently on his hip.

"Why would you be shy about it though, darling?"

"I don't know… Your Patronus has always been so vibrant and unique, mine has never really been able to compete."

"Yunho."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sure if you saw what I just saw but that was the most beautiful Patronus you have ever cast. You would have passed with honours in DADA with that creation."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do. And what do you mean yours could never compare to mine? Honey, my Patronus is a salamander, you know that. I think everyone would much prefer your puppy over mine."

She accompanied the last part with a chuckle and reached out to stroke his cheek.

He smiled softly at her, "But fire-dwelling salamander patronuses are so rare and beautiful."

She waved off his comment.

"I'm curious though, what's changed? You'd always struggled to keep your Patronus alight, but now it's brighter than half those nitwits we went to school with."

"I mean I haven't cast it since it happened but I found a new memory to focus on a few years ago."

"It must be a really beautiful one for your Patronus to manifest like that. Can I ask what you think of?"

His cheeks flushed slightly and his gaze softened as he looked at her. He always looked at her with such love and had ever since before they started dating in fifth year. It never failed to make her heart flutter.

"Our wedding night."

Her heart melted, "Which part?"

"Well, the whole thing I suppose. How beautiful you looked in that wedding gown and how I definitely didn't cry when I heard you say 'I do'. But also afterwards."

Her cheeks flushed. A certain someone had been conceived that night.

They both looked down at Haneul who was looking up at her parents with big doe eyes and her mouth hanging open.

Yunho looked up at Y/N again with a warm grin, "She is one of the best things to happen to us and I'm glad that we decided to have her."

She felt herself tear up, "Have I ever told you how much I love you, you big dummy?"

He gave her a cheeky grin and kissed her, "I don't know, maybe you should tell me again."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a quick peck, "Maybe later when your parents leave and a certain someone is asleep I'll show you."

"Oh?"

She ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Sweetheart, you've never told me what you think of when you cast your Patronus."

"Oh," It was her turn to blush, "Remember our first date to Hogsmeade?"

He grinned at the memories, "Yeah, we wreaked havoc in Zonko's before heading to The Three Broomsticks. How could I forget?"

"Well, I think of that. It was the first time you said 'I love you.'"

His grin widened as the memories came flooding back, "Yes! I remember. It was winter and your nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. You had taken a sip of your warm butterbeer and some of the foam stayed behind on your upper lip. You looked so adorable I couldn't stop the words from falling from my mouth."

She still got butterflies so many years later, "Our first kiss also took place that day. "

"Yup. I had to help you clean that foam up somehow.", He chuckled.

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Their nostalgia was cut short when Haneul decided she wasn't getting enough attention anymore and started crying again.

"Oh no, don't cry, princess." Yunho moved her to let her head rest on his shoulder and rocked her in his arms. She was getting bigger every day but she still looked so small in Yunho's arms.

"Do you want mummy to show you pretty lights like daddy did?"

Haneul probably had no clue what he meant but the soft voice of her dad calmed her a little and she looked up at him through her wet lashes.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Drama queen."

But she took her wand out from her back pocket nevertheless.

"Expecto Patronum!" She said softly but firmly. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to yell the spell out like your life depends on it, usually just being firm and having a strong intent works. Unless you're planning on visiting Azkaban anytime soon- yelling might be necessary there. Dementors don't discriminate.

No sooner had she spoken the words, a salamander appeared in the air in a brilliant blue glow.

It swam through the air and twirled as it did so, mock flames rising from it's skin. It was a pretty delightful sight. Haneul and Yunho thought so too, watching it with identical smiles and bright eyes. They looked so alike.

Haneul giggled and pulled Yunho's wand from his hoodie pocket. He took it from her just before she could stick it in her mouth. There were already a few teeth marks on the almond wood handle and his friends and teammates in his Quidditch team teased him every time they saw it.

He moved to hold her on his hip with one arm and held out his wand and conjured up his Patronus with firm words and a swish of his wand.

Haneul clapped her hands together in pure joy as Yunho's Patronus bounced through the air, silently barking as it chased Y/Ns.

Y/N couldn't help the laugh that escaped her as she watched her salamander scramble to get away from the big paws of the golden retriever.

Eventually, she started giggling so much that she lost focus and her Patronus faded away.

He stopped paying attention to his Patronus too, too busy lovingly gazing at his wife.

He wrapped his free arm around his wife, pulling her against his chest. He held both his girls in his arms and pressed kisses to each of their foreheads.

His little family would never lack in happy memories and he would make sure of it.

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet One Piece boys ? -II

Part 1 (here)

Part 2- Ace, Shanks, Law

A C E :

-After Thatch, the crew had to find a replacement.

-Even though other cooks could still replace him, they needed an extra help.

-Asking some chiefs on the island, contacting some friends...

-Yeah, that's why everyone would do.

-But we're with Whitebeard.

-They went to the Chiensaucisse Island who was know for its fast eating contest of hot dogs.

-For Whitebeard, the cook that can cook for those gluttons, can support to cook for his pirates.

-So they observed the cooks that brought the food without even looking the participants.

-Maybe they could have...

-Because they were a lack of players.

-And when the organiser saw this pretty boy nammed Ace.

-He brought him by force to the competition.

-So while the crew was searching in the kitchen, Ace was on a stage platform under the lights and cheered by the crowd.

-His plate was brought.

-He thought."why not?"

-He started eating.

-Beat the record.

-And a sausage went into his nose while he was falling asleep.

-...Guess who have a pincer and avoided him to suffocate?

-Definitely you who were putting the god damn sausages in the bread.

-When he woke up, he just saw you with one sausage and some ketchup on your hand while Whitebeard screamed: WE FOUND OUR COOK

SHANKS

-Alcohol + stupid pirates = Shanks trying to do the lift from Dirty Dancing with Benn.

-You can guess how it ended up Shanks broke his arm while Benn broke his coccyx.

-The problem was the doctor didn't have any cast, so they went to the pharmacy of the island.

-They found you selling a grandpa some magic pills that help him in being hard again.

-When their turn came, Shanks started to talk but you interrupted him.

-'So...you too, uh?'

-He blinked.

-Then linked the pills.

-The grandpa.

-And all the masked clients.

-But certainly the shop's name "Aphrodite"

-They were certainly not in a pharmacy.

-(But they did buy some pills...)

L A W

-Well, the Marines were here, and the Heart Pirates couldn't go back to the submarine.

-Your mom saw them and decided to help them.

-So when after your work shift you went back home and threw yourself on the bed...

-You heard your bed said "sorry."

-...you screamed and found Beppo and the crew watching you.

-Let's just say it was not an excellent memory for everyone.

-Especially when Law used his devil fruit because he thought you were an enemy.

[bullet-prooflove]

LittleMouse!Series Part Seven: Home - Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @mandy426  @neapolitantoebeans @yezzyyae @kmc1989

LittleMouse!Series

Don't... - Alden hates what your doing.

Waiting - You leave your ex waiting.

In Sickness & In Health - Alden and your ex sit down to discuss you.

Bordeaux - You come home to an unexpected surprise.

Acts of Violence - Alden walks into his worst nightmare.

The Hours In Between - What happened between you and Kristof.

You’re a law unto yourself, Alden has always known that. It’s one of the reasons he fell in love with you. He’d realised that you were a force of nature during your first meeting, you’d been reading FBI Agent Kramer the riot act over one of your cases. You’d been so spirited in that moment, so passionate and he admired that because the victims you championed, they deserved to have someone like you fighting in their corner.

Despite the doctor’s orders you’re on your feet when he enters the apartment, a brown bag of groceries tucked underneath his arm. Part of your recovery requires rest, lots of it because you’re still replenishing your iron levels and it makes your tried and dizzy if you’re on your feet for too long.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” He chides you as he sets the brown bag down on the counter and begins to unpack the groceries. It’s all food guaranteed to boost your levels, stuff rich in the vitamins and minerals you need to get well.

“You know I’m not built that way.” You say as you lean on the counter surveying his purchases.

It warms his heart to see that smile on your face as you open the pack of blueberries and pop a handful into your mouth. This time last week you’d been in surgery, fighting for your life and now you’re in his home, wearing another one of his sweaters and you should be resting up.

You ignore him when he tries to shoo you away, opting instead to take a seat upon one of his kitchen stools instead. He understands you’re bored and in need engagement, your mind works a mile a minute and it’s hard for you being forced to slow down. That’s why he’s taken a little time off because despite what you say you need someone to take care of you.

“You need to get back into bed.” Alden tells you, placing a kiss upon the tip of your nose. “You’re overexerting yourself; I can tell.”

You look a little pale, he thinks. He can tell you’re tired and in pain.

“You know I can’t sleep without you here.” You tease him, your nose trailing along the length of his. Your palms smooth over the fabric of his shirt, playing along the muscles of his chest.

“You know. I feel the same way.” He says in that low, husky tone of his. He clasps your hand to his heart as he gives you that smile. “Which is why I think we should take the next step.”

“As much as I would love for you to ravage me…” You whisper against his lips. “I’m afraid I’m not up for that quite yet.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He tells you, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. “I want you to move in with me.”

He sees the expression on your face shift when the words leave his mouth, you pull away just a little and he frowns because honestly this is not the reaction he expected.

“You don’t want to move in with me.” He says quietly.

“No, I do.” You tell him softly. “I just want it to be for the right reasons.”

“This has nothing to do with you being stabbed.” He tells you, cupping your face between his hands. “I love you; I’ve wanted this for a while but then your homicidal ex turned up and things got a little…”

He bobs his head from side to side.

“The point is I love you and I want to make this our place. I want to wake up next to you every morning, to find those little hair pins all over the place, to spend nights listening to Fleetwood Mac on the record player. I want to be the one you come home to after a long day.”

“Ask me again when I’m back on my feet.” You request, patting the place where his heart resides in his chest. He understands the concession, you spent your entire marriage being manipulated by you ex-husband and right now you’re vulnerable, you’re world’s been tipped completely upside down. You’re still trying to figure out which way is up. “Ask me then and I promise I’ll say yes.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lananiscorner]

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, last chapter! The end of an era! *sobs* Seriously though, how long has it been since you started reviewing Houses and Hopes? Two years now? In any case, I'm glad you stuck with it and gave us all an amazing and different insight into how these games land with first time players. And now, once more, thoughts below the cut. :)

Plot bunny after the special chapters be like:

Brainwashed dodo bird sure was A Choice™ to make. It literally took the most interesting thing about her (her sheer will and resolve) and threw it into the trash (together with Claude's common sense lol).

"Dimitri wants to wreck TWSITD and the Empire." - A man after my own heart! Let's fucking go!

Amazing how Yuri and Ashe (two common born characters) are doing so much better in this route!

#IngridForQueen

"Linhardt just said Caspar revels in bloodshed." - Not surprising, just very, very said, considering what his character was like in Houses.

Omg, random Kingdom general, you can't be out here like that, doing that to our hearts. I mean...

There's something truly hilarious about Jeralt telling Byleth he isn't qualified to be a teacher when Byleth literally raised classes full of one (wo)man armies in Houses lmao.

To this day, I maintain that one of Houses strongest points is being able to make you feel Byleth's grief after chapter 9, even if you managed to see Jeralt's death coming from 6 chapters away (and how couldn't you, what with him having no skill sheet, no supports, no meal opportunities, nothing, and then talking about how he was not going to die?)

Dedue and Dimitri continue to be the epitome of dysfunctional heart-warming together.

"Felix is like “I’ve seen all there is of you to see.” So, uh, what does that mean?" - It means whatever you want it to mean. *smirks in Dimilix*

I know I said I wanted Dimitri to get a therapist, but OMG my money would NEVER, not in a million years, have been on FELIX! roflmao

Not sure about the timeline here, because I don't remember how big the time skip is here. If I remember correctly, Duscur happened when Dimitri was 14, his first battle where he violently killed people in front of Felix happened when he was 16 and then another two years later, the Lions went to the academy.

Dimilix shippers really ate good in this game.

OMG, Constance's sorcery school days sound absolutely badass. I'd play a DLC of that, not gonna lie.

I'll have to watch those Constance & Annette supports later - they sound absolutely delightful.

"He insists he must pay for his crimes, which he thinks he never can. He wants to get judged by the law, which, honestly, respect." - Same. It sure sounds like they made Jeritza a much more interesting character in this game than in Houses.

Did you manage to get Shez/Seteth A in the end?

"Dimitri’s talking about severing the past and moving on into tomorrow." - So much for the status quo centrist lol.

Dimitri simply parrying Thales' dark magic will never not be epic.

You really gotta wonder how much of a chance the Empire has after this. I mean, okay, the most competent Eagle is still alive (Hubert), but I'm pretty sure you recruited Petra, Dorothea, Bernadetta and Linhardt out from underneath their noses and killed Varley and Bergliez, so that leaves who exactly to lead the imperial army? Caspar (strong, but hotheaded and dumb as rocks) and Ferdinand (never as good as he thinks he is)? Yeah, not too worried for Farghus here.

If you're considering replaying Houses, I definitely recommend a full recruitment Azure Moon playthrough with the wolves in tow.

Congrats on finally finishing the Fodlan games and thank you for sharing all your thoughts with us! It was a pleasure to follow your journey, and thank you for all your replies to reblogs, too!

Azure Gleam 15 (Final)

As long as this has gone on for, I'm actually bummed to finish this one.

NARRATION

Those special chapters were so weird. It's kind of funny how the plot is like, just ignoring all of that and going back to regular programming. It's like in an old kid's show when they got a dog and then the next episode - no dog anymore. Like there's kinda no point to it.

Ok, so Thales talking to yeeted Edelgard. I will never not get over how funny it is that's the path the writers decided.

Yep, we're really just jumping back into the regular plot. That is so funny. The writing in this game is a clusterfuck at times.

Ok, so we're going to the monastery to save Rhea. MUCH better than saving Bernie's dad.

TWSITD causing chaos again. I feel this route targeted them more than the other two. Like they barely existed in GW.

Everyone's worried about Rhea.

Dimitri wants to wreck TWSITD and the Empire. Let's fucking go!

MAP

No side quests again! Guys, I'm sooooo close to beating this game I can taste it. Both SB and AG have very short final chapters.

Only Claude is annoying, which tracks how this game's gone so . . .

So I've gotten all the supports for: Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Rodrigue. Mercedes I'm only missing Jeritza. I didn't use Annette or Ashe, so they're missing a few, but I feel I did pretty good. Hopefully I can get Mercie and Jeritza this chapter.

Ugh, so I missed the opportunity to deepen my bond with Byleth :( Maybe next time.

So in another route, Ashe had no idea what he believed in anymore. In this one, he's confident about his sense of justice.

In another route, Yuri didn't tell me his history with Varley, in this one he trusted me with it.

Ingrid is a queen. She said it's the people who suffer in war, our leaders should reach diplomatic resolutions. Too bad only Dimitri believes in those :(

Aww, Byleth refused to kill Shez during their fight because he could tell she wasn't herself. I soooo wish I'd gotten their supports.

Ok, so I ran into Raphael again and agreed that I didn't like how we were fighting (which, imo, isn't true, but I wanted to see the difference). Shez thinks Edelgard is too cruel, Claude is too haphazard, and Dimitri is too cautious. She pretty much nailed it.

No Arval in the tent :(

Linhardt just said Caspar revels in bloodshed. That's fucked up.

My heart just broke and warmed at the same time. A Kingdom general asked a Duscur general how the people from Duscur pray. He wanted to learn because he lost a lot of good soldiers from Duscur in the last battle and wanted to pray for them in the way their religion would. It's details like this that make Hopes worth it.

Haha, Dedue was fairly chill considering I attacked allies and posed a possible threat to Dimitri. He brought it up, but didn't harp on it.

BYLETH & JERALT A

Man, I'm glad I got this unlocked in time.

Byleth gave Jeralt flowers. First time in Byleth's life lol.

He's trying to communicate his feelings, thankfulness to Jeralt for being his captain and father.

Aw, it's a throwback to Byleth giving out flowers at the Academy.

Lamo, Jeralt just said Byleth may have been a student or led seminars, but isn't qualified to be a teacher.

Jeralt's like, I knew you cared, kid. But I still appreciate it.

Byleth picked the flowers out himself. It's the same kind his mother liked :(((

Jeralt used to give these flowers to Sitri.

Byleth is being so sentimental and sweet. I can just imagine a voiced Byleth saying lines like that in Houses' supports and buying more into the character.

I swear, this game made me really get Byleth more and "buy into" the character. Also, I'm going to cry so hard when Jeralt dies. I still don't really care for Jeralt, but I'm going to just feel so sad for Byleth.

DIMITRI & DEDUE A

For anyone wondering, I purposefully saved this one and Felix A. I've had them unlocked for a while.

Dedue is worried because Dimitri keeps sleeping at his desk. He's grateful or else he'd get sore.

Of course, he had bad dreams about the past.

Ohhhh! Not the tragedy, but arriving home after. Cool to learn some tidbits about that part too.

A child cursed Dimitri after the funeral because his dad died in Duscur and was furious with Dimitri for not killing Dedue, but hanging out with him instead.

Dimitri just ignored him.

Then Dimitri talks about his duty to those who died, and asks Dedue what he would do if Dimitri begged for vengeance while he was dying. OFC, Dedue says he'd do it even if he died.

Then Dimitri asks the opposite, what would Dedue do if Dimitri begged him to live for his own happiness? Dedue said he couldn't.

"I cannot know happiness without you by my side." :(((((((

He'd seek revenge, for his own sake, not Dimitri's.

Dimitri's like, nothing I'd say would change your mind?

Dedue just flips the subject, asking if Dimitri can't just live for himself, and ofc Dimitri says no, he can't.

But imagines another life traveling around as a merc with Dedue or living as a farmer. Dedue's like, why not go?

Dimitri says obviously I can't do that.

So Dedue's like get some sleep.

It worries Dedue every time he sees Dimitri asleep like that at his desk bc he's worried Dimitri died. But Dimitri's like, not why you're here. It won't happen.

Dimitri's like, if I died, that wouldn't go well, so I'll listen.

GUYS. DIMITRI'S GOING TO SLEEP. SOMEONE TALKED HIM INTO SLEEPING. THE POWER OF DEDUE.

They're married, your honor.

DIMITRI & FELIX A

Starts with Dimitri apologizing and promising revenge, killing all of TWSITD no matter the cost.

Felix walks in, Dimitri almost calls him Glenn, but corrects, and apologizes again except to Felix for seeing that.

Felix is like "I've seen all there is of you to see." So, uh, what does that mean?

Dimitri explains that he suffers from a "waking dream," saying he sees the dead like they're real.

Then talks about the violent revenge the dead scream at him.

Felix asks when this all started. Dimitri says 6 years, but the voices started 4 years ago during his first battle? Not sure those numbers line up with lore and age, but I don't know how old they are this time. Anyways, started with Duscur, got worse when Rufus tried to have Dimitri killed by sending him to battle.

The man he killed that freaked Felix out was someone from Duscur, and the voices cheered when he killed the guy.

Felix is like, do you really think Glenn and Lambert would torture you like that? Telling Dimitri he's the one doing it, not them.

Dimitri's like, even if that's true, I can't forgive myself.

Felix talks about how if Dimitri loses his path, he's taking everyone down with him (so Houses, sans AM) and says "keep the whole removing their heads thing in check yeah?"

Felix says it'll be their secret.

"are you offering to let me unburden my heart to you when the time calls for it?" - Dimitri to Felix. Guys, I'm dying a little.

Dimitri credits Felix with the reason he hasn't descended into madness, and asks Felix to continue being his right-hand man.

Hahahah, OMG, Felix picked Dimitri up and is physically carrying him to bed. Dimitri is nearly laughing because he's so much taller than Felix his feet are dragging the floor.

Felix calls him a "sack of muscle" lol

Dimitri carried Felix like this when Felix twisted his ankle. And now is calling this a workout. Dimitri's still massively entertained.

They are also married.

Man, so Dedue got Dimitri to fucking sleep, and Felix got him to laugh.

Ok, this game is really Dimilix, the game. I swear a shipper on deck wrote this. It may also be why Felix was one of the few Blue Lions to survive SB. Writers' bias.

My shipping heart is so happy with both supports.

ASHE & FLAYN B

This is their final support.

They're fishing together. She's trying to reel in a big fish, but it's not working. Ashe gives her tips. And she got it!

Though, it seems like it was a bit of a struggle.

Flayn swore she'd not let go no matter what. Ashe says sometimes it's best to not let go, and suddenly understands Seteth. But still compliments her on her determination.

Flayn thinks her mother would be proud of her for catching this, which is part of the reason Flayn loves fishing.

She flirts with Ashe a bit too lol.

And now she's drooling over the fish.

Ashe says Flayn enjoys him of his sister and really had fun.

But then panics thinking of Flayn in the kitchen lol.

ANNETTE & CONSTANCE B

Constance compliments Annette's performance in battle.

Constance is a legendary alumni at the school in Faerghus.

Stories include turning bossy noble kids into horses. And she started using it everywhere.

She argued magical theory with teachers and won.

These make me love Constance, not going to lie.

Annette is nervous being around someone so famous. Constance calls Annette one of the most talented women in the Kingdom.

Constance loves a book Annette work, but it's mostly a cook book, so Annette doesn't make much of it.

Annette wrote a magical cookbook, and Constance is all about it.

Annette tries to give Mercedes credit because she's the cook.

They both want to get to know each other better.

This was really them geeking out over each other, magic, and Mercedes' cooking.

MERCEDES & JERITZA A

It came down to the lack fucking minute, but I got it. Thank you, Shez, for cooking the perfect dinner.

Jeritza finds and old letter from Mercedes' mother. Or, rather, she wrote Jeritza a letter after Mercie told her that they found him.

They both want to live with him after the war, but he says no.

He can't face her because of his past actions. Doesn't seem Mercie holds it against him. And says neither will her mother.

Then Jeritza talks about the Death Knight persona.

Mercie's like, naw, because you're fine right now.

Jeritza still doesn't give in though. He insists he must pay for his crimes, which he thinks he never can. He wants to get judged by the law, which, honestly, respect.

Mercie decides to support his decisions, even though it makes her sad, and that they'll be waiting for him. No matter how long. Even if they're both old ladies.

I really loved that support. Seeing Mercie support Jeritza's decision, seeing Jeritza take responsibility for his actions. All around good support.

ANNETTE & CONSTANCE A

Glad I got this one. I think Seteth/Shez A is the only other support still within reach.

Constance wants Annette's help conducting an experiment outside. Annette knows how Constance's mood changes when she goes outside. Annette's happy to help.

Obviously now Constance is being down on herself.

Annette volunteered before learning the experiment. Thankfully it's just to try and get all the cats from the area.

It fails :( I want a spell like that.

Constance is obviously moping, Annette gives her a pep talk, but it probably useless bc they're outside.

It attracted bugs, and Constance says the cockroach is a better sorceresses than her lamo. Then they attract angry birds lol.

Once back inside, Constance realizes her spell does sort of work, but they just didn't know how to get cats.

Aww, I really liked that support chain.

FINAL BATTLE

How can anyone not tell something is wrong with Edelgard?

It's so weird how they just ignore the special chapters.

Thales is making her fight.

Sylvain said he'll skip the class reunion if this is what they're like.

Ingrid is roaring to go after Thales.

No sign of Claude. Dimitri's trusting him, but I don't know about that. I wonder if he betrays you here too. Though Dimitri makes a good point that if Faerghus falls, Claude's ass is next.

On, cool image! Dimitri giving a speech. It's like a moment in Lord of the Rings before Aragorn and co march on Mordor.

I like this! Dimitri's talking about severing the past and moving on into tomorrow. Good to hear him talking like that.

I only got 40 points too. Guess Claude was the odd one out, getting more points for his battle than the other two.

Kyrona made an appearance.

Felt good to kill Varley for once.

Getting ready to face Thales now. Dimitri about to get his revenge against TWSITD. Feels good.

Shez is reassuring Dimitri that he's not alone. That his friends are here to help. :)

I think I just killed Kyrona for good this time.

Time to kick Thales' ass. Much better than killing Rhea. Again.

We also got to defeat Edelgard. Having a hard time feeling bad about that.

This battle is pure chaos. But in a fun way.

Oh, did I beat Thales? I'm at a cut scene. Shez stopped Edelgard; and Dimitri's marching to kick Thales' ass.

Haha, he just ignored Thales magic like it was nothing. What a fucking badass.

He's not even saying anything, just breathing, and the voice acting is still on point.

Edelgard remembered Dimitri? So he didn't kill her. And outside Rhea, Claude and the Blue Lions are waiting. And sun is about to come up.

This felt WAY more complete than the other two. I was expecting MUCH worse. Maybe if I played the other two first I'd be more surprised, but they set the bar stupid low.

We defeated the Empire, defeated TWSITD - I don't know what would even be left?

I love how hard the narration tries to make it sound like the Empire has a fart's chance in the wind anymore. It's just clean up now.

MVP time. It'll eventually turn into the Dimitri show like SB did Hubert and GW did Lorenz. I suspect it'll take longer though bc I wanted to use the other Blue Lions a lot.

Actually, I lie, it happened like the second I got Dimitri and not just Shez. I think I may just be a stan lol. He's also just so damn strong he killed so much easier and faster than anyone else.

You can tell the chapter Dimitri was missing for since Felix and Ingrid kept trading MVP. Then back to Dimitri.

Hey! Rodrigue got one!

I'm excited for Dimitri's letter. Still wish we got paired endings here though.

Dimitri feels reassured with Shez by his side. He's also the only one who asked Shez to stay in the Kingdom. It's nothing spectacular, but it was sweet.

I'm also a bit sad to see this one end. No more Fodlan unless I replay, but I guess there's still supports I didn't unlock.

Guys, I can't believe I finished. Now I'm finally "free" to play whatever games I want.

Def want to replay Engage and Houses, and some non-FE stuff too. Should I get the Engage DLC?

xxx

[redheadspark]

“do you want your good luck kisses” with benedict playing pall mall

Anon: Yay for another Benedict Prompt! Thanks Anon

Good Luck

Summary: The infamous Bridgerton pall mall was aways a site to watch, your in-laws always making a spectacle out of it.

"Come now, before we talk too much and we loose daylight!"

You were perched in your seat, under the shade of the makeshift tents out on the lawns of Aubrey Hall, the cooling wind made you feel a bit better as you were watching the family standing together, getting ready to play another round of pall mall. You decided to sit out this next round, feeling rather flushed from being out in the sun for a bit too long and needed a break from the rousing game. You knew hot to play, in fact you were quite recent.

But playing went the the Bridgertons was a whole other league.

Courting Benedict Bridgeton was a wonderful feet, the impish and lively second eldest child always kept you on your toes and makes your courting dates fun. He was always happy and a go getter, never letting a single smile falter or a bad idea stay for too long. You loved his creative mind and how he thirsted and craved to be a better artist, never settling for anything less. But with you, he seemed so free and more open to having his imagination run wild. The way he ran dead by you in what he wanted to sketch and pain, it made you agree with anything he says. Not only because they were great ideas, but he was just too handsome for you to say no to.

When he asked to court you, it was so east to say yes.

"Come on, who shall pick first?" Daphne asked with her hands on her hips. She was there with her siblings, along with Anthony's wife Kate who would never turn on multiple rounds of the game. You were next to Daphne's husband, The Duke of Hastings, while he was tending to his son on his lap.

"Don't worry, Augie. When you learn to play, it won't be from your mother's side of the family," Simon said in amusement as the pair of your were watching the Bridgerton siblings lightly bicker with one another. You giggled, looking at Simon with his young son in his lap. "What an uncivilized lot they are, are they not?" You asked jokingly.

"Hhmm, a brutish lot no doubt," He replied, though he paused as he looked at his wife with a soft smile on his face, "But they are quite the family," He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow as you were working on your stitching, "Do you think Benedict will propose anytime soon, making you a official Bridgerton?"

"And what, I pray tell, is bringing this topic on, Duke?" You coyly asked back, seeing him cock a grin and shrug.

"Just merely making observation, seeing how you two are rather close and very much in love," Simon explained as you grinned and almost blush slightly, "It's quite lovely to see,"

"I never thought I would see the Duke of Hastings having such a tender heart," You joked, keeping your eye on your needlework. You did think about it thought, if Benedict would propose to you. There was no reason for him to stray for you since he was always devoted to you. He was never one to be a player or going from girl to girl, not in the present. Maybe back when he was younger and he felt more like a bachelor, but he's matured since then.

Once he courted you, it was always you on his mind and in his actions. He treated you so well and made sure your needs were met before his own needs. Seeing his face light up as you walked in the room or when you danced with him on his arm at a ball or two, it made you truly believe in true love.

One of the first times you were introduced to his family was when they were playing pall mall at their home at Aubrey Hall. Benedict thought it would be the best time to show you off to his brothers and sisters, which later was your watching them be competitive with one another and arguing about who cheated and who won. You were amused to say the least, loving to see how close they were as siblings. Even with Anthony going nose to nose with Colin, and Eloise slamming the ball extra hard just to take the point from Daphne.

You instantly loved them.

You saw Benedict then walking over to you, his mallet in hand and a massive grin on his face as he cocked his head at you with a twinkle in his eye. You placed your stitching in your lap as he cocked his head over at Simon, "Is he being a bore to you?"

"Not at all," You hummed, though Simon rolled his eyes as he held his son, "Are you about to play?"

"There's still time to join if you wish to," Benedict reminded you, "Your aim is right on target with Anthony's, if I do say so myself."

"Sadly, my darling Benedict, I must decline and simply watch from the cool shade. Such a chore really," you teased, seeing him squint his face a you slightly, "Do you want your good luck kisses?”

"Well, yes if that shall suffice," He replied back smoothly, leaning down to press a soothing kiss against your cool lips. You loved kissing him, whether it was gentle in the open air amongst the lawns, or the deeply and intimately in the secluded hallway and out of site.

Kissing Benedict felt like flying, or winning at pall mall.

"Benedict, let's play! And don't scar our nephew with your kissing!!" Eloise hollered from the lawn, Benedict pulling away and rolling his eyes in the process while Simona laughed from the remark.

"I shall win for you, m'lady," He said in a cocky tone, you giggling as he kissed your hand once more before he walked away and back to his siblings. You watched with a dreamy look in your eyes, feeling your heart swell from not just watching Benedict and see how happy he was, but simply feeling the love he had for you within you and through you.

If only you knew the ring he had stored in his jacket pocket, waiting for him to use when he would propose to you later that night after dinner.

The End.

[morganofthewildfire]

“Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” for the Valentine’s day prompt!

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A Not So Cliche Love

thanks for the prompt!!

~1.5k words

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His friends all said it was cliche, Aelin’s friends had said it was cliche, Rowan himself knew it was cliche, yet somehow he didn’t care. Because it wasn’t Valentine’s day that had drawn him to picking this particular date, it was simply the fact that three years ago that day, he’d seen her for the first time and had instantly fallen.

They’d met through unconventional means, yet somehow still cliche. They’d both been in college, Aelin at the prestigious University of Terrasen, while Rowan was paying his way through Orynth Community College, just hoping to get by. And to afford the tuition, he’d picked up a minimum wage job at the local department store in the Orynth mall, the site of his aforementioned cliche meeting.

It’d been Valentine’s Day, and to his utter exasperation, his boss had forced all his employees into hideous vomitty pink versions of their normal uniform shirt. He’d been stationed in the jewelry section, which he’d say was even worse if not for the fact that that’s where he’d laid eyes on the love of his life for the first time.

Though to his utter misfortune, she’d been in the company of another man, a guy with a boring looking face and boring brown hair that seemed to be talking at her instead of with her. Her cerulean eyes had been dimmed in boredom, only lighting up when she caught him staring at her. Lighting up with indignation, but it was still something.

He’d helped them pick out a new necklace for her, which defeated the whole purpose of a gift if she was there, and then they left. Nothing spectacular, but it’d changed his life forever. Because three weeks later, she’d come back, no one in tow, and given him her number.

And now here they were.

And now here he was, on Valentine’s day, about to propose.

He was nervous as hell, even if he was pretty sure she’d say yes. She’d say yes, right?

It was too late to turn back though, as he waited in their apartment living room, the whole space decked out in soft candlelight, the record player playing old school jazz in the corner. They’d danced to that record the first night in this apartment, and now it was forever associated with their love.

Aelin was running a bit late, and she’d told him she would be. Her work at the law firm she was interning at had been slammed recently, and as the intern, she was getting all the late nights and the extra paperwork, leaving her exhausted every time she crawled into bed. It’d left them little time to do anything else at night, but Rowan wasn’t upset; her career was more important, he wanted her to do whatever she felt like she needed to do to reach her goals.

But he couldn’t deny he was a little excited for what this night might entail.

The lock on the front door turned, dragging Rowan out of his thoughts, and he turned his head toward it from his spot on the couch. Aelin appeared through the space when it opened, her work heels in her hand and her blazer all askew, but she didn’t hesitate before darting toward the bedroom.

“Aelin?” He asked, just as their bedroom door closed behind her.

“One moment!” She called through the wood, and he sighed through his nose, his hand drifting to the box in his pocket. Like the romantic he was, he’d gone back to that same department store to buy the ring, and though he’d ended up spending hours searching, he was pretty sure he’d found the perfect one.

It took her about five minutes to finish whatever she was doing, and Rowan had almost psyched himself out of asking when she reentered the living room.

And his heart stopped.

His beautiful, stunning, perfect girlfriend was decked out in lingerie. It was a deep red, and lacy, and utterly see through, and he could feel his blood rushing south as he stared at her, mouth ajar like an idiot.

Aelin just smirked, stalking toward him until she was standing between his legs, her hands resting loosely on his shoulders. He was so much taller than her he barely had to look up to look her in the eyes, eyes that were lit up with humor and mischief and something else he couldn’t quite identify.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” she murmured, looking pleased at his reaction. “Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He had to admit, it took him a second to process what she’d said, halfway in the process of replying before he snapped his mouth shut, his face falling in disappointment. “You knew?”

She grinned at him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek in apology. “Aedion can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Rowan groaned in exasperation, his head falling back against the couch.

“Don’t feel bad, baby,” Aelin consoled, “it looks beautiful in here. And is that our song?” She tilted her head, smiling softly.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I started setting everything up before you told me you were going to be late, so it’s been set up for hours,” he chuckled, sighing at the same time. “Now it’s ruined.”

“No, it’s not,” Aelin insisted, moving to straddle him. “I even got dressed up for the occasion, I’m expecting a proposal.”

He raised an eyebrow as his hands went to her waist, the corner of his lip lifting in amusement. “You wanted to wear lingerie for your proposal?”

“Pretty dresses are boring,” she explained, tilting her head so her golden locks spilled over her shoulder. “I wanted to make an impact.”

“Oh,” he said in mock understanding, “I see.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back, his heart filling with love. A moment passed, and then she was moving one of her hands to reach toward his pocket. “Hey now,” Rowan said, grabbing her hand. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see my ring,” she explained, trying with her other hand, which he blocked as well.

“I haven’t even asked you yet,” he said, laughing. She just scoffed.

“So ask me, you buzzard,” she said, relenting her attack on his pocket.

“If you insist,” he teased, and she nodded.

“I do.”

He shook his head, chuckling, before taking a deep breath, composing himself for the speech he’d prepared.

“Aelin Galathynius,” he started, his eyes immediately starting to water. “From the first day we met, I’ve felt like I was swept up in a tornado: no longer in control of my destiny, but finally able to feel what it was to fly.” He caught her discreetly sniffing. “I love every single thing about you. From the way you tease me, to the way you smile, the way you would do anything for the people you care about, and even the way you’d wear lingerie to be proposed to.” That earned him a wet chuckle.

“These last three years we’ve spent together have been the best three years of my life,” he continued, his hand reaching toward the ring box. “And it’s made me realize one simple thing: I don’t ever want to go back to living without you.” He took another deep breath. “So, Aelin Galathynius, will you mar-”

“Yes,” she interrupted, stealing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “Of course I will, Rowan Whitethorn. I love you, you buzzard,” she said as she pulled back, smiling. “Now give me my godsdamned ring.”

Rowan laughed, pulling the box out of pockets and flipping open the lid. The sight drew a gasp from Aelin, and he couldn’t deny he was pleased with her reaction, especially when he saw the tear drip down her cheek as he grabbed it from the box, gently grabbing her hand and sliding it on the proper finger.

They both admired the sight, her golden skin accentuated by the bright gold of the ring, topped with two diamonds circling a bright red ruby. The diamonds were classic, but his Fireheart was more unique than that, so when he’d seen this ring, the ruby flickering like a flame, he just had to get it.

It seemed he’d made a good choice.

Aelin sniffed and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his, their breaths mingling.

“I love you, Rowan Whitethorn,” she murmured, “To whatever end.”

“And I love you, Aelin Galathynius,” he said, the words more precious than the jewels adorning her hand. “To whatever end.”

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

taglist:

@lexflame @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @shecriesallthetime @rolltide7 @sleeping-and-books @tottenhamboys20 @firestarsandseneschals @yesdreamblog @jlinez @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @booknerdproblems @1islessthan3books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @imaginedhaven @fangirlprincess09 @lauraisfae @claralady @sassys-world @booksbqueen @aelinashryvergalathynius18 @sexy-dumpster-fire @http-itsrebecca @perseusannabeth @throneofmak @emilyoftheshadows @poisonous00 @thegoddessofyou @highqueenofelfhame @chieflemming @thesurielships @annejulianneh111 @tomtenadia @aflickeringsoul @woollycat22 @empire-of-wildfire @jesstargaryenqueen @gracie-rosee @wanderingjpg @cicada-bones @shyvioletcat @thewayshedreamed @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @grandma-noob-lord @myworldofbooks @danibutterr @wordsafterhours @vanzetanze @dangerouscherryblossompenguin @sailorsassley @rainbowcheetah512 @live-the-fangirl-life @rowanwhitethornisbae

[chudleycanonficfest]

Nobody Compares

Day 22, Story #1 is by @arianatwycross

Title: Nobody compares Author/Artist: arianatwycross.tumblr.com Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger Prompt: In Vino Veritas (under the influence) Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): n/a

Hermione admits to kissing Ron, brags about him to Sarah and her friends. They don’t believe her because she’s acting so out of character.

Ron comes up from behind her and kisses her neck. 

Her friends gasp loudly and she smiles at their shocked expressions. She doesn’t give them time to question her properly, instead she spins around and places her  hands on his chest. 

He’s smiling down at her, his eyes a little glassy from the alcohol. He bends down to whisper something in her ear and Hermione can’t help but bite her lip and nod back. 

Hermione wasn’t surprised that Ron got signed young. He had the sort of edge a football player needs in the modern world, the passion to do more while simultaneously keeping a smart head, his humour, his witty but sensible remarks about teammates and competitors. She wasn’t surprised when he got picked for the first team, the team he grew up supporting, watching on TV and following in magazines. 

She was surprised however, at how easily it was for them to drift apart. She always thought that they would be able to overcome issues like time zones and schedules, but she was wrong. Hermione graduated University with a first in Law, and was on her way to study her Master’s in London and Ron was upping his training and committing to the first team at Manchester United. 

At the beginning they emailed and texted frequently, while Hermione was still settling into her Bachelor’s degree and Ron was still playing for the Under 23’s. But in Hermione’s second year, her course load increased and she had barely had time to even watch a single tv show. Ron tried his best to see her on his weekends off, but in the end Hermione convinced him it wasn’t worth it. The conversations over email and phone started to dwindle to monthly, then every few months and then finally they stopped altogether. 

Hermione did mourn their friendship for a long time. She blamed herself mostly, she knew she was the one that had a bit more freedom to call him when she could. Ron was too busy dealing with training schedules and away games to think about calling his best friend from secondary school. 

It had been four years since she had seen Ron. She still thought about him at times, how could she not when he was one of the most famous football players in the country? Sometimes she saw him in the sports section of the newspaper or saw him on the TV. She was a self-proclaimed Manchester United fan and so she saw him play every game on the TV. Her friends had no idea they were best friends just a few years ago, they had no idea that he was Hermione’s first love. No one knew that, not even Ron. 

So when she walked into the pub down the street one Friday night, and found him standing at the bar she froze. Every muscle in her body just stopped, only her heart thumped heavily in her chest. There he was, back leaning against the bar, red hair still cut short, shoulders a little bit broader, arms definitely more toned, the same cheeky grin plastered on his face. Her heart flipped and cracked all at the same time. 

She hadn’t seen him for four years and on a random Friday night she runs into him? She quickly looked at Sarah next to her, glaring at her as if she had planned this. Sarah of course, did not. Sarah had no idea that Hermione was friends with the famous Ron Weasley. 

“Oh my god, is that Ron Weasley? Doesn’t he play for Man U Hermione? You support them don’t you?” 

Hermione just stared at Ron, her eyes drinking in the mannerisms she hadn’t seen in years. The cross of his arms across his body, the tilt of his smirk as he listened to his mates next to him. 

“Hermione?’ 

“Right, yeah that’s him” 

“Shall we say hello?” 

“No!” Hermione quickly interjects and steers Sarah away from the bar and towards a booth on the opposite side. She can still see him from where she sits but he can’t see her without turning around. 

Sarah gives Hermione a bewildered look. 

“Bit of a fangirl are we?” Sarah asks. 

Sarah works with Hermione, the two of them only just starting to hang out outside of work. She doesn’t know much about the smart solicitor yet, just that Sarah has a boyfriend that works at the bank and that she enjoys a large glass of pinot noir a bit too much. 

She’s nice, and smart and the two of them get along really well. But Hermione wasn’t about to go blab about how the man at the bar was the love of her life between the ages of 15-21. 

“No, just I’m way too awkward to say hello” She mutters, “Shall I grab us some drinks?” 

Sarah nods and rattles off her order. Hermione makes sure she goes to the furthest side of the bar to where Ron leans. He’s still looking in the opposite direction so she calms down a little, lets her muscles relax and breathes steadier so her heart doesn’t go into overdrive. 

She orders her drinks and while she waits she watches Ron. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans. She watches the smooth muscles in his back tense as he talks, he’s still as mesmerizing as the day she last saw him. 

She drinks another three glasses of wine before Sarah calls the rest of her friends, begging for them to join them at the pub. The pub has grown loud and rowdy, the drinks have been flowing and the heat has made everyone boisterous and excitable.  Ron has relocated to a table with his mates, a pint in his hand, the group of them laughing loudly and Hermione feels herself being pulled towards him. 

Sarah waits at the table for their friends while Hermione goes to order them another round. The alcohol is now freely flowing in her veins, so she doesn’t realise who’s next to her before it’s too late. He stands tall, his elbows resting on the sticky bar. She tenses, her entire body feels inflamed. 

“Mione?”

She might just cry. 

She looks up and finds Ron staring at her in shock. His blue eyes wide and his mouth wide open. She laughs. 

“Hey” she replies, smiling at him. 

Ron instantly smiles back and before she knows it he’s grabbing her into a hug and engulfing her with his scent. 

He smells exactly the same, she thinks. 

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe its you!” he says, pulling back and cupping her face with his large palms. 

She freezes at such an intimate touch but he doesn’t seem to realise. 

“You look good” she says, watching as his eyes also scanned her face. 

“You look stunning” he replies openly, making Hermione laugh again. He drops his hands. 

“How long has it been?” he asks. He’s shaking his head now, still in shock at seeing her. 

“Four years?” 

“Fucking hell, I’ve missed you” he says quietly. 

“Yeah, I’ve missed you too” 

They smile at each other. Hermione grabs the wine glass in front of her as the bartender makes Sarah’s drink. Her entire body is shaking. 

“Are you here with someone?” he asks. 

She points out Sarah, who is now sitting with three other girls. Girls that Hermione hardly knows. 

“Sarah, I work with her. It looks like her friends just showed up” Hermione gives Ron a tight smile.

“Oh well do you have time to chat?” 

“Yeah, let me just give this to Sarah and let her know” she holds up Sarah’s wine glass and Ron gives her a smile. Such a familiar smile that Hermione can’t help but smile back, her jaw hurts already. 

She walks over to the table, tells Sarah that she’s just bumped into an old friend and will be back soon. Sarah’s friends greet Hermione kindly but don’t complain. 

Then Hermione finds herself sitting at a table in the corner of the pub with Ron Weasley. 

She can’t quite believe it. She’s 24 and sitting across a table with her childhood best friend. He looks exactly the same but completely different. She feels exactly the same as she usually does when with him. The old feelings are bubbling up and overwhelming her. How can feelings from four years ago still be so strong?

They end up chatting for hours, the drinks fueling her excitement at seeing him, the alcohol probably fueling another type of feeling that she probably shouldn’t encourage. They talk about their families, their friends, football and her job.  She’s giggling and laughing and then Ron’s telling her he’s sorry. 

“I’m so sorry we feel out of touch. I still think about you all the time” he admits. He’s been drinking beers and she can tell he’s slightly tipsy by the redness of his cheeks. 

“Me too, I guess life just happened”  she murmurs. 

He nods sullenly. 

“I watch all of your games” she admits bravely. She blames the wine, she’s never normally this forward. 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do,” she smiles at his bewildered look. His blue eyes wide and searching hers for the catch. 

“You’re great” 

He laughs modestly. 

“I ask my mum about you every time I go home” he admits and she blushes furiously. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, that’s probably embarrassing but I think I’ve drunk too much to care.” He laughs and she laughs with him. His laugh is so contagious and familiar, a warmth that she had never found in anyone else.

“I’ve heard all about your big job in the city and your nice apartment,” he admits. 

“My mum still talks to your mum so I guess I’m not surprised. Does she also tell your mum that I haven’t had a proper boyfriend in years and that I need to get a move on?” she laughs. 

Ron smiles tightly and she watches as his eyes scan her face and settle on her lips.

“So still no boyfriend?” 

“Nope. What about you? Have you found a hot model to marry yet?” 

He screws his nose up and Hermione laughs. 

“No way, models are too much trouble. But no, no girlfriend. I was seeing a girl last year but it didn’t work out” 

Hermione’s heart flips. She doesn’t want to imagine Ron with another girl, falling in love with another girl.

“That’s a shame” she mutters, hands grasping the stem of the cool wine glass. 

“Not really” 

She looks up and finds him staring down into his beer. 

“Why?” 

He ignores her question and instead looks at her, catching her eyes with his. 

“Do you think everyone has that one person they compare everyone to?” 

The question surprises her, so much that she opens her mouth to answer but finds that she has nothing to say. Or at least, the words don’t seem to form. Instead she can only say one word. 

“Who?” 

His eyes widen but he looks down at the table and smiles. 

“Well, you of course” 

Hermione feels like she’s dreaming, like the alcohol running through her body has numbed her and she is just playing out a fantastic scenario in her drunken brain. 

“What?” she gulps. 

Ron nods as if he’s agreeing to something in his head. 

“You were my best friend and you’re gorgeous, of course I fancied you” they don’t break their eye contact, it seems too important, too life-changing of a conversation to not look at each other. 

“No you didn’t!” she scoffs, thinking of an 18-year old Ron fancying smart-ass, frizzy-haired Hermione. 

“Oh come on Mione! You’re beautiful, smart and funny! I was always flirting with you!” 

She tries to remember a time when he might have been flirting but she can’t, all she can remember is her 18 year old self watching him play football, the way he moved when he sprinted, his laugh when he scored, the way he hugged her when they celebrated. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she gulps. 

“You just got into Uni and you needed to focus. You were always stressing about how important your first year was and then when I called you, I felt like I was distracting you and I knew how important it all was for you so I just stopped calling” he had his hands running through his hair now, settling on his neck and squeezing. 

It was too much for her, to think that she was the reason Ron stopped talking to her. All she could think about was disappointing him, choosing her degree over his friendship, over something more. She stood up frantically and mumbled something about needing air. She heard Ron say something as she walked off but the air was suffocating her, the crowds were too much, the alcohol was making her feel slightly nauseous. 

She shoved open the front door to the pub and pushed through the small crowd out the front. She found a quiet corner near the car park, gulped in the fresh summer air and breathed. 

She couldn’t believe that Ron had fancied her this whole time, that he wanted to talk to her and that he didn’t just feel obliged to talk to her after school. He liked her and she liked him. She spent years watching him play football, happy that he had moved on, trying not to think about the time they had missed. 

“Mione?” 

Hermione looked up to find Ron standing idly a few meters ahead of her. 

“Ron,” she sighed. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

She didn’t consciously walk towards him, it just happened, like the sight of him spurred something in her , made her gravitate towards him. She was inches from him when she stopped and she looked up, her heart warming at the familiar blue eyes and the freckles on his cheeks. So familiar and so him. 

“I missed you so much” is all she can say, and she feels her heart filling at the way he smiles back at her. 

“I missed you too” 

“I’m probably a little drunk but can I kiss you?” she says, the words tumbling from her mouth before she can catch them and swallow them whole. 

He smiles brightly and takes her jaw in his hands, his palms back to where they belong. 

He leans down and kisses her deeply. His lips are soft beneath hers. She wraps her hands around his neck and her fingers lace between his hair, something she had only dreamt of doing. 

She tugs at his hair and he responds by slipping his tongue into her mouth, she moans as their tongues tangle and their breaths deepen. She’s feeling dizzy and she knows it’s not from the wine, it’s from being this close to Ron. It’s from all the pent up feelings she’s had buried for years, for the disappointment she had felt, the deep sadness from him not being in her life. 

They pull apart and Ron kisses the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her cheek. 

“Mione?” 

“Yeah?” she murmurs, still breathless. 

“Please tell me you have time to see me” 

The desperation in his voice breaks her, she grabs his face and kisses him fiercely. 

“Ron, I’m not letting you go this time” 

He smiles as he kisses her this time, and they laugh in between kisses. 

He asks if he can take her home and she delightfully finds out that he lives nearby, just a 20 minute walk from her own house. He explains that he’s actually been transferred to Arsenal and he moved to London just a few weeks ago. He seems happy about the change and Hermione can’t help but grin proudly as he tells her about the transfer and his new apartment. She feels like this is all too good to be true, that he’s now close by, he’s here and with her. 

She goes back inside the pub to say goodbye to Sarah, he pulls her in for another kiss before they enter the pub. He also says goodbye to his mates and she feels feverish as she wanders over to the crowded table. Sarah squeals when she appears and Hermione notes how intoxicated everyone is and smiles. Sarah’s friend, Ashleigh asks if Hermione knows Ron Weasley and Hermione nods, not stopping the huge smile that graces her face when she hears his name. Sarah squeals again at Hermione’s blush and Hermione ends up gushing when Sarah asks if they snogged. 

She revels in the faces of Sarah and her friends when Ron kisses her neck, and she lets his lips spread heat over her entire body. 

“We have a lot of catching up to do Miss Granger.”

[ricesoupremacy]

he's very cool. yep, you learn every day. are you implying...i have tasty blood. ikr i would have bonded with it. blood contract of friendship, even.

well i played with him in my team. we weren't keeping score because it was timepass match but i can say he was definitely way better than me. i don't play volleyball i was just there lol. ofc i expected too much, no one could be tpq aiden and his smolder charm.

right answer is your first guess 🤡 i did what i never would have dreamed of doing- i broke a guy's nose. and i don't regret it one bit. HEY I MIGHT DO WEIRD SHIT BUT I WOULD NEVER EVER VANDALISE SCHOOL PROPERTY THAT'S CROSSING A LINE. I AM A LAW-ABIDING CITIZEN and i have a conscience, surprisingly. never cheated, never helped anyone cheat and i don't intend on doing so ever. cheating is ew. no comments. um. imagine lol. if that did happen it would be my thirsty ass guy friends now this...this is a good idea. maybe i will do that.

SO this is the most thrilling thing in my life and i'm gonna flex about it a lil bit. excuse me for that. BUT SEE this guy deserved it because he's an asshole. he's one of the new guys this year, and i have a class with him but we were like on amiable terms i think. he's the captain of the basketball school team and he's, ok he's good-looking enough i'll give him that, and he knows it, so he thinks he's some precious hotshot. but how is that my problem. by around august we realised he's a piece of shit. he started picking on this one dude in my class for no reason, and he thought he looked cool and intimidating or some shit. things got so bad (by that i mean physical bad) it got to the hm, she gives him a warning, he's banned from an interschool event. you'd think he's learnt his lesson but no. why? because he's a fucking moron. at this point we'd started texting on friendly terms. which is not great on my part, seeing the kind of person he is, but he was nice enough when he talked to me. i got to know about this almost-bullying thing later. but i didn't stop being friendly with him. why? because i'm a fucking moron, who thinks everyone can reform and there's good in everyone, because he's so conveniently two-faced to people he likes or at least pretends to like, and people he looks down on for whatever reason. he didn't trouble the other dude again but it's bad enough it happened.

he's toxic as hell, he doesn't give two shits about school, he has no respect for anyone as long as they have boobs and will get with him. i am not kidding when i say the entire grade dislikes him. that's something not everyone can accomplish. i cannot believe it took me so long to see how hard texting him was. it's like constantly walking on eggshells. you can't text too much (which i usually do when i'm excited lol) or he'll be annoyed. you can't text too little or he'll whine about how dry you are. but when you text just enough? he seenzones you, or replies with something intelligent like "meh". but if you seenzone him, all hell breaks loose; you're off his close friends list, you're unfollowed, you're removed from followers. five days later he comes back begging you to accept his follow request so we can kiss and make up again.

i thought, not everyone is the same. people have mood swings, people have their own problems, people need space. i can deal with all that, i'm a patient person. no one is truly a bad person at heart.

that was until our inter-house cricket match (which is not even a big deal because budget where 💀). we're in different houses and he's genuinely not even good at cricket, he thinks he can be sports captain even though he can't play for shit and his fragile masculinity's hurt that a girl got elected over him (oh, the shame). so when he struck the worst shot ever and i caught him out easily, he flew into a rage after the match. boys will be boys amirite. he literally blamed my fellow teammate (an actual stellar player) for injuring him, and when no one buys his shit (surprise surprise), he lashes out at me. how dare you get me out arya, you're not even a good player arya, you don't know shit about sports arya. we 'lmao'ed at his patheticness and left. his house won but he doesn't care about that, not when his own ego's been insulted.

but i don't care. if he wants to bitch about me, fine, i don't give a flying fuck. there are ten other people bitching about him, and i don't want to be one of them because i don't waste my time on people who have no value for others. as long as he doesn't fuck with me or my friends, life is good.

two months later i get suspended. the day started off well. i lost the toss in lunch break and had to go buy my friends stuff from the canteen (we do that regularly, i didn't have to pay for them they're just lazy to walk). i'm running their order in my head when i see X with this group of small kids. he's not the sort who gives gyaan to youngsters obviously, so something's definitely wrong, but it's not my problem. it's not my problem even when i see him shove one of the kids so hard he falls down hard some distance away, and X is laughing at him while the other kids scatter. it's not my problem but damn the lunch order, i walk up to him and tell him to fuck off, if he's started bullying 10 year-olds he's hit an all new low and needs to get a life. he tells me in turn to fuck off, it's not my problem. i know that, but who the hell does he think he is, throwing kids around like that. go study chemistry or something, dumbass. he says i'm being a try-hard hero, and informs me helpfully that this isn't some high school drama. i tell him the only one living in a high school drama is him and his sadistic ass. why was he harassing children anyway. by this time the smol boi was on his feet and staring at both of us with unmistakable fear. he probably thought i was going to beat him up too. poor kid. X points smol boi's lunch box. it's a pink tupperware dabba. i'm like ok, and? he says, look at this pussy with his little pink tiffin. you love pink, don't you, he asks smol boi. smol boi stares at him and manages to say no, i don't. i tell him to fuck off again, what business is it of his if smol boi likes pink or dislikes it. he says, you would think that, won't you, gay boy? i say yes, i would. i don't care if he says that like it's some insult. he says, you want this kid to become a loser gay wannabe just like you, huh? and pushes smol boi down again, so hard he starts bleeding. i cannot tell you what i felt in that moment, because i have never felt anything that strong before, i cannot tell you how i got close enough to hit that fucker on the face despite him being a 5'8 prick who eat-sleep-breathes the gym, i cannot tell you how i did not manage to damage my own wrist with my inexperienced form and ended up smashing his nose. i felt like i could destroy anything. i caught him by the collar and pushed him onto the ground, which made his shirt tear, and then i said something like how does it feel to be beaten by a loser gay wannabe, you piece of shit? apologise to the kid. and he says pfft you think i'm someone you can take down in one hit, what an idiot. he tried to punch me in the stomach but me being the intellectual i am, i ducked down or something and got a hit below my eye. god knows what would have happened if i had instead made some stupid mistake, like dodging.

anyway people were screaming by now and we were just throwing hands. it was kinda funny. then i did something weird idk what i did but i think i accidentally twisted his arm or something and then next thing i know he's kneeling down in absolute pain clutching his arm and i'm like haha, stupid and my dumb ass tries to quote lord of the rings but then i see teachers and i'm like shit, smol boi was still there. his leg was hurt and he could walk so i'm like QUICK I'M GONNA CARRY YOU TO THE INFIRMARY and he's like oH OK and i just run with him piggy-backing, and then before he goes in he tells me i was very cool and he asks me my name and i ask him his, and he says he's in fifth grade, and i tell him if that other guy ever came near him again he should just chuck his pink tupperware dabba at his stupid face. and there's nothing wrong with his dabba, its purpose is to hold food. the fuck does it matter if it's pink or black or multicoloured. you eat in whatever you want. then he goes in.

my amazing friends apparently had witnessed the whole fight thing because they overcame their laziness to see what was taking me so long, how touching. X and i were hauled to the hm's office and she takes one look at me and goes arya?? what happened to you? and she's shocked because the two of us have starkly contrasting reputations. so maybe that helped in my case because i got a suspension of lesser time and i went back to school a hero or something, it's cheesy but yeah it made me happy. witnesses all said X was the one who provoked it but i was the one who threw the first punch so i was responsible too, and that's understandable. but now he's hated school-wide so, good for him i guess. i got skinned at home but i don't regret it and i hope i won't do something like this again. i've had enough excitement.

yelo idk when you will see this but i hope you are doing good and school is going well for you :D

broooo hiiii half yearly exams ended just today so i was on an internet break for the past 2 weeks

i'm doing good, school is going fun. we had exams and now we have the batch trip coming up. i am so excited its just next week eeeee

how are you?? how is 11th grade going?

ALSO THE SLUG IS BACK YAS

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter three // didn’t care much how long i lived

summary: bucky receives a lesson on modern music over cheap beers and freshly baked scones.

warnings: mentions of abuse, food, alcohol consumption, character death (sorry)

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: besties...how we feeling about today’s episode??? using this as a coping mechanism :)

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Your record collection was extensive and collecting an unhealthy layer of dust since you had inherited them from your grandmother. It didn’t take long to fish out a Best Of album from the vast shelves, handing over the sleeve to Bucky, who sat patiently on your forest green couch, as you fiddled with the turntable’s needle.

To busy himself, he read over the repertoire of songs listed on the back.

“Let’s Get It On?”

“Usually, a guy buys a girl dinner first, Bucky.” You took a cheeky swig of your beer with an eyebrow raise as he flushed at the insinuation. “We’ll start easy. If I Could Build My Whole World Around You. A criminally under-appreciated love song.”

A bouncy beat crackled through from the speakers as you settled into the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you. Today’s choice of pajama bottoms displayed little snowflakes across a navy background, despite the heat outside that still lingered into nighttime.

“I like it.” Bucky decided.

“Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell have so many amazing songs together. She might not sound like it on record, but she had a hard life. Abusive, cheating partners. Brain cancer that killed her young. Hard to know what anyone’s going through behind closed doors.”

I’d put so much love where there is sorrow, I’d put joy where there’s never been before.

“I really like it.”

Your apron still hung from your waist, the gentle tick of the kitchen timer in the shape of a grey cat sat by your side. A reminder of the scones you were whipping up when Bucky unexpectedly appeared on your doorstep. You didn’t question him or bring up the late hour. Simply ushered him in with a smile and a beer shoved into his gloved hand.

Bucky feels comfortable for the first time in a long time. Eyes focused, mind stagnant. Your perfume, woodsy and natural, lingers in the air and he has to take a long gulp of his drink just to occupy himself for just a second.

“I’m glad you like it. Though, I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who doesn’t like Marvin Gaye. It’s like not liking Queen.”

“Queen?”

The timer rattled on the coffee table and the smell of vanilla and blueberries nipped at Bucky’s nose.

“Saved by the bell! I don’t have the time to berate you on not knowing about Queen.”

You bustled your way back into the kitchen, sliding oven mitts onto your hands as you inspected the oven with a professional certainty. The record out and into the next track as Bucky watched on, your shoulders swaying to the slow tempo. You were light on your feet as you plucked one tray from the heat and replaced it with another.

It was so easy for Bucky to imagine this world as his, with the soft swing of Motown as the soundtrack to your shared afternoons. In a different life, he would come home to your baking, ask how studying went as you swayed in the kitchen together. You would wash dishes next to one another, hips pressed close, and giggle when he would press his sudsy hands onto your cheeks. You would smear remnants of cake batter on his and he would let you feed him dessert from your fingers.

It wasn’t possible, he knew. Probably ever. You would be graduating school soon, off to be an important attorney and he would still just be your across the hallway neighbor who you sometimes shared desserts and pleasantries with. You would find out who he was eventually. Everyone did. You would leave. Everyone did.

You would simply be another in a long line of failed attempts by James Buchanan Barnes.

Still, he thought, we can have this one simple night. Where you don’t know who he is, and he can imagine that it lasts long after he retreats back to his apartment.

‘Heaven must have sent you from above.’ Crooned the lovesick singers on your record player.

As you returned to the living room with another beer and the promise of scones as soon as they cooled, Bucky could only think one thing.

He was definitely starting to like Marvin Gaye.

He was starting to like you, too.

When he returned back to his apartment, hours later with a pile of records you insisted he borrow in his arms and a belly full of blueberry scones, he fell into bed without a care in his mind. It was his first full night of sleep in ninety years.

-

Bucky started appearing on your doorstep more often.

Your number was now saved in his phone and was his most frequently used contact. You were his secret, though, something he didn’t even share with Dr. Raynor. No matter how many times she tried to get him to speak about his troubling lack of acquaintances.

You were the one thing in the world untouched by all the destruction waging a war between his ears, you were easy and simple and God, it had been a long time since anything had been simple. You didn’t mind that he was brooding and a little bit clueless, or his cheesy jokes and complaints about technology these days.

His record collection was quickly growing, though it was still nowhere near yours.

Most of all, he liked sitting in your apartment, at your kitchen counter or on that forest green sofa of yours. Sometimes, you would let him pick a record and tell him everything you could remember about it. Other times, you would read from your heavy law books and he’d pretend to understand the cases and terminology, head resting against the back of your couch, admiring how your brows would furrow in concentration. He’d tell you not to hunch over your book, but you’d insist you were fine, only to be complaining about your neck the next time he saw you.

“I wish I read more actual books, you know? It seems like all I know these days are case studies.”

The next visit he’d have a worn copy of one of his favorite books tucked under his arm. He’d read to you until you’d doze off to the stories of Bilbo Baggins and his team of dwarves, a blanket tucked up to your neck.

Every visit cemented yourself further and further into his identity, until his trips to the used bookstore down the block became weekly and his morning runs became longer as you pushed more and more baked goods his way. You’d kiss his cheek as you said your goodbyes, leaning against your doorframe as he disappeared into his apartment.

He was happy. Positively, unbelievably happy.

-

Two days before Bucky’s next scheduled visit, Steve died in his sleep.

Pneumonia, or something, Bucky didn’t really comprehend any of the newscast beyond the headline ‘CAPTAIN AMERICA DEAD’ flashing in bold letters across his television screen.

Sam called early that morning and Bucky just knew. He knew what was waiting for him on the other end of that call, so he shut his phone off and laid back on the hardwood floor of his living room, dead to the world.

He didn’t speak to anyone for a few days, not even bothering with his daily runs or grocery store trips. Your knocks at his door went unanswered, with no trace that you had even stood in the hallway waiting for him other than a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies on his doormat. The only appointment he kept was his therapy, where he stared out the window and counted down the minutes until he could leave. Each attempt on Dr. Raynor’s part to bring up Steve was shut down as quickly as it was brought up.

Finally, a week later, a pounding at the door woke him from a restless afternoon nap.

“Buck, I know you’re in there.”

Sam. Of course.

“These boxes are heavy, come on!”

Sam Wilson took up Bucky’s entire doorway with his broad shoulders, the boxes stacked in his arms taking up the rest. Bucky was quick to usher him in the door, eyeing yours across the hall. He knew one look at an Avenger on his stoop would finally connect the dots for you, and you’d never speak to the Winter Soldier again.

“Keep your voice down.” Bucky shoved the final box through the doorway before securing the lock in place.

Sam surveyed his barren living room, eyes flicking to the crumpled bedsheets gathered on the floor next to his sofa but didn’t linger for long.

“I was worried about you, man.”

It used to be ‘we’, but now it’s just Sam.

“Nothing to worry about.” Bucky pushed past him to his kitchen, collecting stray dishes he hadn’t bothered to move to the sink before then. He felt Sam’s careful gaze on him the entire time. He hated that. He hated how much Sam cared.

He mostly hated how much it reminded him of Steve.

“Found these boxes in Steve’s attic. Had your name on them so I thought you might want ‘em.”

Bucky swallowed hard, focused on scrubbing the dishes under water so hot it was turning the skin on his flesh hand a violent red.

“I know this is hard, Buck-”

The glass he had been rinsing shattered between his fingers and Sam took a step back as Bucky heaved in uneven breaths. There was a long silence between the two grieving men, neither able to fully understand the other. Sam would never feel Bucky’s ninety-year heartache, the abandonment and fear of the life ahead of him. Bucky would never understand the weight on Sam’s shoulders or his unease at the shield tucked under his bed at home.

“I just want to be alone.”

Sam could do nothing but respect his wish.

“Call if you need anything.” Were his departing words as he showed himself out.

Bucky got to work cleaning up the broken glass.

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[matwith1t]

A/N: Hiii! I’m fairly new to writing for Mat, but I heard this song and went !!! so I wrote a little something based off it! There’s a part two in the works! I’d love to hear any & all feedback!! 💗✨ @itrocksmysocks​​ here’s your tag 🤩 

Summary: Mat felt beyond nervous to meet your family for the first time, but like you predicted, your family absolutely adored him. But when your relationship suddenly comes to an end, Mat unknowingly broke more hearts than yours. (heavily inspired by More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress)

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking // WC: 11.8K // Fluff & Angst

The trees were in full bloom as you drove down the familiar streets of your hometown. The sweet smell of April air wafted through the slightly cracked car windows; and the sun shined just as bright as the smile on your face when you looked over at the person sitting next to you in the driver's seat.

“And there’s the park where I broke my wrist after jumping off the swings,” you excitedly pointed out the window.

Mat chuckled and squeezed your hand as he slowly rolled to a stop at a stop sign. With no one behind you two, he idled the car for a little longer, and took his time looking out the windshield, “And the place where you got in your first fight, right?”

You turned in your seat to face Mat, who had a wicked smirk on his face. With your mouth wide open you gasped, “I was five and they pulled my hair!”

Mat leaned his head against the seat, eyes shut tight with a crinkled nose, as he let out a boisterous laugh. “Always the fighter,” he said as he brought your connected hands up to his lips, and pressed a kiss on the top of your hand.

You tried to contain your smile, but all of your efforts were lost when Mat’s eyes connected with yours. At the delicate soft smile on his face, you couldn’t control the smile that slowly crept onto your face. And the only thought circling your mind was how did you get so lucky six months ago.

Six months ago, you wound up at a mutual friend's house for a birthday party where you met Mat. It started off with talking in the kitchen over drinks, then to beer pong partners where he would clasp his hand around yours after a high five, and by the end of the night, you two were on the couch off in your world talking nonsense as he kept knocking his knees against yours.

Phone numbers were exchanged by the time the party was over, and a day and a half later, you met him at a coffee shop early in the morning.

A loud honk from behind brought you out of reminiscing. Mat seemed just as startled as you as he dropped your hand, checked to make sure no other cars were at the all-way stop, and then hit the gas pedal.

“Asshole,” Mat muttered under his breath as he slowed down and picked your hand back up.

A small chuckle escaped your lips, “We’ll walk around later and then you can see everything again,” you squeezed his hand as a promise, “Turn left here.”

He turned the blinker as he approached another stop sign, “With all of the stories you’ve told me….” After checking to see no other cars, he turned down the street your parents lived on for as long as you could remember, “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

You felt yourself heat up in embarrassment, “Sorry, I––”

Mat shook his head and quickly glanced at you, “Never apologize. I love hearing your stories.”

With a little embarrassment still lingering in the pit of your stomach, all you offered him was a closed lipped smile. Mat took his time driving down the residential street, admiring the quaint neighborhood, as you piped up, “We’re coming up to it on the right––three more houses––the one with the navy blue door.”

With a deep exhale, Mat’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, as he nodded his head, “Cool.”

With scrunched up eyebrows, you tilted your head to stare at his side profile. Because with his knuckles turning slightly white, locked jaw, and clammy hand, you knew he wasn’t anywhere near feeling ‘cool.’

“Why are you nervous?” you asked him sincerely as he pulled up and parked in front of your childhood house, “You’ve met them over FaceTime and they loved you.”

Mat rolled the windows up before turning off the ignition and turned in his seat to face you with a worried expression, “Because it’s your family, FaceTime is barely anything. This is meeting them face to face and that’s…different.”

You appreciated his honesty instead of denying his nerves, “You’ve already passed with flying colors with everyone,” he still didn’t look convinced so you listed your reasons, “My mom loves anyone who makes me happy and I’m very happy with you.” Mat tucked his chin into his chest to hide his blush, “My dad thinks it’s awesome that you’re a hockey player, won’t shut up about it. And my sister likes you because she thinks you’re her in to get her a hockey boyfriend.”

Mat took the key out as he threw his head back in laughter again in a way that made you fall in love with him all over again. The two of you opened your doors at the same time and got out of the car.

“Trust me,” he said with a few small laughs, “you wouldn’t want your sister to date a hockey player.”

You raised your eyebrows at Mat as he popped open the trunk and took out both of your bags, “What about you, Barzal?”

Mat shut the trunk, slung his bag over his shoulder. When you tried to reach out to hold your bag, Mat pulled it back and shook his head as if asking you why you would even try to carry your own bag.

“I’m better than the rest of them.”

This time, it was your turn to throw your head back in laughter; eyes shut tight and nose crinkled. And when you opened your eyes, you saw Mat staring at you, eyes full of adoration. You imagined it as the same look you gave him after he laughed.

You whispered, come on, to him and Mat followed you up the driveway to the front door. Your hand was floating on top of the door handle to open it, but the door swung open. The sudden movement startled you, which caused you to stumble back a bit, but Mat placed his hand on your lower back to keep you steady.

“Finally, you’re here,” your sister let out an over dramatic sigh and flung herself into your arms.

You hugged her back, “Hit a bit of traffic.”

Your sister scoffed as she pulled away from the hug, but kept her hands resting on your shoulders as she stood arms length away. She raised her eyebrows and looked over your shoulder, “I’m assuming he drove?” You nodded your head and your sister rolled her eyes, “Guess fastest skater doesn’t translate to fastest driver.”

You masked your laugh with a cough as you peered over your shoulder to see Mat’s face turning a deep shade of red.

Knowing how nervous Mat felt, you rolled your eyes and lightly shoved your sister’s shoulder, “There are laws we have to follow when driving.”

“Touchè,” your sister said as she stepped aside and let the two of you in, “Would be kinda cool if there was something in driving that was like the same as getting in a fight during a hockey game.”

“Are you condoning road rage?”

She shrugged her shoulders, not paying any mind to your question as she focused her attention on Mat, “I’ve seen you get pretty feisty out on the ice––”

“Oh, that’s enough out of you,” your mother chastised your sister as she walked in from the other room, “I told her to wait until the two of you were inside.” She playfully glared at your sister one last time before facing you and Mat with a glowing smile, “Mat, so nice to finally meet you in person.”

Mat set down both of the bags on the hardwood floor, “Thank you for inviting me over, my schedule isn’t always the easiest to work with, so sorry for the delay.” He held out his hand, but your mother batted it away and brought him in for a hug.

“No need to apologize,” your mom said with a smile as she pulled away from the hug, “We’re just happy you could make it here for a weekend.”

Mat smiled and shuffled toward you, but kept his arms stuck to his sides, “I’ve been wanting to come, and I know it’d make Y/N happy,” he looked down at you with a smile that you returned, “So I’m happy to be here.”

Your mom clasped her hands together in front of her and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she continued to smile, “You’re too sweet.” She then turned to look at your sister, “Go show Mat the guest bedroom so he can drop his bag off.”

With a nod, your sister was off, talking a mile a minute at Mat who looked petrified. But you gave him a knowing look, referring back to your conversation in the car, how your mom approves of anyone who makes you happy. With a shake of his head and a slight roll of his eyes, he followed your sister up the stairs to see where he would be staying; in a separate bedroom from yours.

You stood in the foyer with your mother in silence for a few seconds before she broke, “I love him.”

“Mom,” you directed your eyes up to where he was only a floor above and had the possibility of hearing.

She laughed as you followed her into the kitchen. You slid onto one of the barstools as she went to stand over the stove. She picked up a spatula and moved around the vegetables in the pan, as she looked over her shoulder, “He’s perfect for you.”

You slumped forward, and buried your face in your hands, something about this conversation with your mom felt as if you were transported back to high school. Peeking up from your hands, your mom was still staring at you with a smile on her face, “He’s pretty great.”

“There’s something about the way he looks at you,” your mom’s comment struck a chord that caused you to sit up straight.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “He just…He looks at you with a lot of admiration.”

“You’ve spoken three sentences to him.”

Your mom spun around and pointed the spatula at you as she playfully glared, “You don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him. And I’ve noticed it on the FaceTime calls as well.” Her features softened, “You can see how much he cares.”

An electric jolt shot down the back of your spine as you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your smile. Her comments also made you curious. No one else had ever pointed out the way he looked at you, of course your mom pointed it out because she’s your mom…but no one else had.

Did that mean that his friends saw the way he looked at you? Did his teammates notice a difference in his demeanor whenever they saw you two together after one of his games? Did his family notice the way his eyes lingered on you for just a bit longer when you met them?

You didn’t doubt anything your mom told you, in fact, it only made you confident that your relationship with Mat was definitely one for the long run.

Playing off the semi-serious look she gave you, you let out a small laugh, “You’re falling in love with him faster than I did.”

The spatula your mom held fell against the pan with a clatter as she whipped around, “In love?”

With a slight nod, you let a smile overtake your face as butterflies filled your stomach, “Yeah…” you said softly as you remembered the night Mat told you. There weren't any grand gestures, nothing over the top, just the two of you on the couch––with Mat laying his head on your thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair––and it slipped out from him.

“Just as of a few weeks ago,” you fiddled with your thumbs, “Still a bit new, but yeah.” You looked up at your mom who looked like was on the verge of tears, “He makes me really happy.”

Your mom sniffled, “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled at her, but with the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs––and your sister’s nagging about how much time Mat spent in the penalty box last season––your mom picked up the spatula and went back to cooking. Soon enough, two more people came into the kitchen, and your sister picked up a task to help with dinner.

“Do you need help with anything?” Mat asked your mother as he stood next to you.

She waved him off, “No, no––Everything’s almost ready anyway, just relax, I know the drive was long.”

Mat looked down at you, as if asking you if there really wasn’t anything for him to do. Shaking your head, you patted the barstool next to you.

He slid in easily and his hand automatically rested on your knee. Normally, Mat was a very touchy person; whether it be a small hand on your back in public or his hands ventured further up your clothes in private, he always had some sort of physical contact with you. But in front of your family, he was stiff.

So naturally, he placed a hand on you that was out of sight from both your sister and mother.

“Has she harassed you about a hockey boyfriend yet?” You leaned in and whispered to Mat so neither one of your family members could eavesdrop.

Mat chuckled, but shook his head, “No. She did ask a million questions about hockey though, I think she’s trying to warm me up.”

“Keep your phone close, I wouldn’t put it past her to steal a few numbers out of it. She’s had her eye on Tito since she started watching the games.” Your tone of voice was joking, but Mat’s face looked terrified. You knocked your knee against his, “I’m kidding, she wouldn’t disrespect someone’s privacy like that.”

Mat squeezed your knee, which caused you to let out a small laugh, “I––”

He was cut off by the front door opening and a loud voice saying, “Are they here?”

Immediately knowing that your father walked through the door, Mat’s hand from your knee dropped and he moved his chair a few inches away from yours. You let your mouth drop at his actions, but found the whole ordeal hilarious.

You slid off the stool just as your father walked into the kitchen. He set down his work bag and smiled, “Hey, you.”

It only took a few strides to be over to your dad and in his arms for a hug. After a few seconds, he pulled away, and you just knew that he was looking at Mat. And you didn’t need to look at Mat to know that the fear of God was in his bones. He stumbled out of the barstool, placed both hands on the back of the stool to stop it from wobbling, and took a deep breath.

“Mathew,” your dad nodded at your boyfriend, “Nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t lost on you that he didn’t tack on the in person like your mom had. In your father’s eyes, he had yet to officially meet Mat, and considered this their first meeting, even though they had talked on FaceTime a handful of times. And if it wasn’t lost on you…You knew that Mat was overthinking it all in his head.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Mat took a few steps forward and reached his hand out, and unlike your mother who waved off his handshake for a hug, your father reached out and shook Mat’s hand, “Thank you for inviting me for the weekend, I–-I know how much Y/N loves it here.” Mat nervously glanced over at you next to your father for reassurance, and you nodded your head as to say good job.

“We’re glad you could find some time in your schedule,” your father stiffly responded.

There was a part of you that felt bad for Mat. You knew how intimidated he was to meet your father face to face for the first time, but there was another part of you that wanted to laugh. Whenever you talked to your dad, there was always some part of the conversation that Mat was brought up in, and it was mostly by your dad. He admired Mat’s work ethic as a hockey player, and was a big fan of hockey himself, so it was a bit comical to see him acting disinterested toward Mat.

“Dinner’s ready!” Your sister yelled out as she carried a steaming hot pot and weaved in between the three of you.

“Does everyone have a drink?” Your mom called out as she carried a pan of vegetables over to the table.

“Is there something I can bring over?” Mat asked your mom as she set the vegetables down.

She smiled, “There’s a chicken in the oven if you can bring that over.”

Mat nodded, finally feeling like he was of use for something, “Of course.”

The two of you walked into the kitchen and Mat released the biggest breath you had ever heard. You let out a chuckle as you took oven mitts out of a drawer and handed them to him, “Alright there?”

As you took down two glasses, Mat slipped on the oven mitts,  “I think I was more nervous meeting your dad than I was for the draft.”

You let out a loud laugh as you started to fill the glasses with ice and water, “Don’t worry, he really likes you, trust me.”

“He called me Mathew.”

“And other people don’t?”

You knew where he was coming from, but you wanted to also show him that it wasn’t a big deal.

Mat opened the oven and carefully took out the chicken, “It’s your dad––everyone else called me Mat.”

With a roll of your eyes you picked up the waters and slowly walked toward the dining room with Mat at your side, “He’s just playing the dad card,” you hip checked him, “By the end of dinner I swear you’ll see it.”

Mat didn’t look convinced, but the conversation was dropped when the two of you entered the dining room. Mat set the chicken down on the table where your mom instructed and then sat down in the chair next to yours.

Dinner started normally; plates were passed around to be filled up, stories of your childhood were shared, and Mat was able to share some of his stories face to face with your parents rather than a FaceTime call.

Mat perfected the skill of acting suave, mastering easy conversation skills from all the times he’d done press interviews, but no one else was aware that Mat moved his chair a teeny bit closer to yours. And no one was aware how you were slightly sitting on the edge of your seat so that way it would be easier for Mat to hook one of his feet around your ankle.

Again, it was the physical contact that Mat always craved, but you also knew how nervous he was, and skin to skin contact made him feel calmer.

“So, Mat,” your dad started out, and when you heard him not use his full name, you pulled his foot toward you in an I-told-you-so way, “Hockey is quite the career.”

As if he knew that this conversation was leading for him to defend his atypical career path, Mat unhooked his foot from your ankle and straightened out his shoulders, “Yeah, it––Hockey isn’t a normal day job, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“No school?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mat’s index finger rapidly tap against his thigh.

“I wasn’t very good at it––Not that school isn’t important, because it is,” he fumbled over his words, afraid that he said something wrong, “But when playing hockey professionally started to become a reality, I wanted to put all of my effort into that. Studying for a test was like doing a drill over and over again. Making friends was getting to know my teammates. Doing homework was working out at the gym and camps all year round. And now I…Now I play hockey professionally.”

Everyone at the table was silent as they took in Mat’s well thought out answer. To say the least, you were impressed with his answer, and by the relaxed look on your dad’s face, you knew he approved instantly.

Mat coughed awkwardly into his elbow, “I do have a high school diploma though.”

Your sister snorted at Mat’s attempt to prove that he has at least some level of education, albeit not a higher level of education, but education nonetheless. You stepped on her foot under the table and glared at her.

“That’s a very interesting way to look at it,” your dad took a sip of his water, “Being on a sports team––at any age––means you have a lot of dedication,  hardworking, have goals, and that you know a lot about teamwork.” Your father’s eyes shifted over to you momentarily before he regained eye contact with Mat, “And I respect that in a man.”

You could see the stress float away from Mat as he tried to hold back his smile, “Thank you, yeah it’s a lot of hard work, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, “Nothing?”

Instead of panicking like you expected, Mat paused for a few seconds, “One thing,” he glanced over at you momentarily before looking back at your father with a small smile, “I would trade it for one thing.”

You ducked your chin into your chest in order to alleviate some of the attention, but it was a small table, and of course Mat was talking about you, so there was no use. But your sister wasn’t shy in stealing away the spotlight.

“Hockey,” she let out a low whistle, “A very demanding sport.”

Mat nodded, “It is, but you end up building a lot of stamina and you sometimes don’t feel the effects of it until you sit down on the bench for a bit.”

“It’s quite aggressive too,” your mom cut a piece of chicken up, “Between fights, getting smashed against the board….”

“Yeah it can be aggressive,” Mat laughed it off, “I mostly get hit in the face with pucks.”

Your mom and dad laughed at his quip before getting into a conversation of their own. And with your parents not paying full attention to the three of you, your sister decided to slip in another comment.

“High stamina and being aggressive?” she shot Mat a look and deviously raised her eyebrows, “I’m sure Y/N likes that.”

Mat spat his water back into the glass and started uncontrollably coughing into the crook of his elbow at the same time you dropped the metal silverware loudly on the ceramic plate.

Your parents paused their conversation, and your dad looked between you and Mat, “Everything alright?”

Mat held up his thumb as he still coughed, and you nodded your head frantically, stuck in a daze that your sister had the guts to say that at a family dinner.

“Everything’s fine,” your tone was high in pitch, but you knew your parents wouldn’t let the topic drop unless they got a verbal answer.

Your sister shot you a wink and a smug smirk as she nonchalantly picked up a few vegetables with her fork. And when you took a peak over at Mat, his face was redder than you had ever seen it. He could’ve played a full three periods of hockey, without any break time, and still wouldn’t be as red as he was now after your sister’s comment.

Luckily, the rest of dinner went without another crude, double meaning, comment from your sister. And when everyone was finished, it was all smiles and laughs as everyone pitched in to help. Mat teamed up with your mom on dish duty, taking it upon himself to wash the dishes. While you and your sister put the leftovers away, your dad wiped down the counters and swept the floor.

In no time, the kitchen was cleaned and everyone was off to the family room to relax, except you and Mat. A few of your high school friends decided to either stay local for college, or to move back to your hometown after graduation, and they were all very keen to meet up…Especially when you slipped it in that your boyfriend would be visiting with you.

You drove Mat’s car to the neighborhood bar where you had one too many nights where you couldn’t remember everything, but you knew they were all happy memories.

“So how many people are coming?” Mat asked as the two of you got out of his car and he locked the doors.

“Just a few,” you said as Mat came up next to you and slid his hand into yours, “You’re not nervous, are you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “They’re your friends.”

You rolled your eyes as you came up to the front entrance. Mat opened the door for you and you dropped his hand to walk through, “You’ll be fine,” you stressed, “They don’t pay too close attention to hockey if you’re worried about that.”

Mat playfully glared at you, “Were you nervous to meet Tito and the rest of my friends?”

Seeing the point he was trying to make, you offered him an apologetic smile, “You’re right, I’ll stop downplaying your nerves.”

He squeezed your hand and looked down at you, “Nothing to apologize about, I just want them to like me.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, “They’ll like you because I love you.”

At that sentence, Mat’s face lit up and he looked down at you with the kindest eyes, “I love you, too.”

It had only been a few weeks since the first I love you with Mat, but you knew you didn’t want to hear the words from anyone’s lips but his for the rest of your life.

Before you could get another word out, you distinctly heard one of your friends yell over the chatter of the bar, “With twenty-two goals and sixty-three assists during his rookie season, there’s the 2018 Calder Trophy winner!”

Mat’s face turned red as he looked down at you, “They don’t pay close attention to hockey, eh?”

You dropped his hand and softly punched his bicep, “I bet they have Wikipedia open right now.”

Mat threw his head back with laughter as he followed behind you to the table your friends currently occupied. You introduced everyone to Mat and he easily fell into conversation with them. It warmed your heart to see your friends taking so kindly to your boyfriend.

Even when Mat tried to decline your friends buying him drinks, they didn’t listen to him. One after the other, they walked up to the bar and always came back with two drinks in their hands.

“Now this one,” your friend Tyler pointed a finger at you, “Stood up on that bar,” his finger moved away from you and pointed at the packed bar counter, “And sang Dancing Queen at the top of her lungs when it came on for karaoke.”

You hid your face in the crook of Mat’s neck and his arm that was around your waist tightened as his chest shook with laughter, “The ABBA song?”

“Stole the show,” Tyler chuckled at the memory.

You lifted your head up from Mat’s shoulder, “In my defense, it was the first time I was of legal drinking age and I was having fun.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done that before when you weren’t of legal drinking age.” Your other friend, Paige, said as she laughed before taking a sip of her drink.

“What?” Mat continued to laugh as he looked down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Even though you were embarrassed by your friends sharing stories that you only half-remembered, you couldn’t help but reciprocate Mat’s smile.

“We have a ton to fill you in on mister NHL-er,” Tyler clapped Mat’s shoulder with his hand and then got off his seat, “What are you drinking? I’ll buy.”

With everyone jumping at the chance to buy Mat a drink, he knew that arguing to pay for his own would be futile. So Mat said a simple, surprise me, and Tyler was off to the bar. Mat had gravitated to talking a lot with Tyler, who actually knew a lot more about hockey than you originally thought, so when he was gone, your friends jumped in on the chance to get to know him more.

And with Mat’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his thumb slowly rubbing circles into your side, you stared up at him in admiration. You had only been home for a day, but everything was going even more perfect than you imagined.

The night ended a few hours later, with you and Mat denying any drinks that were offered to you both after Tyler brought him his ‘surprise’ drink. Sober enough to drive the five minutes back to your house, Mat kept his hand in yours the whole way home.

It was only a quarter past midnight, and you were sure your sister was still up, but the two of you still entered as silent as possible. The two of you tiptoed up the stairs, and came to your room, which was closest to the stairs. Unfortunately for Mat, the guest bedroom was across the hall from your parents room.

Mat held both of your hands in his, eyes locked on your fingers that he played with, as you admired the small smile dancing on his face.

“I had fun tonight,” he whispered.

Your smile widened, “I had fun too,” you squeezed his hands, and he picked his eyes up to stare at you, “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“I think your parents like me,” he tried to hide his smirk, but failed miserably when you let out a soft chuckle, “They probably think I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You scoffed, “You’re getting cocky.”

Mat raised his eyebrows at you, “But am I the best boyfriend you’ve ever had?” His confidence was nothing new to you, but your mouth still dropped as he left you speechless. Mat’s smile widened, “That’s what I thought.”

You dropped one of his hands and whacked his chest, “You’re ridiculous.”

His laughter slowly faded away and the two of you were left standing outside your childhood bedroom door in silence. You so desperately wanted to tug on his hand and tell him to follow you into your room, but you knew he wouldn’t go against your parents wishes under their roof. While he acted a bit egotistical just moments ago about having your parents approval, you knew he was still terrified of them; especially of your father.

Slowly, he brought a hand up to cup your face, and let his fingers trail down your cheek. With his index finger placed under your chin, he tilted your head back so you had nowhere else to look but at his eyes.

His eyes were your favorite thing about him. Whether they were glazed over in the morning just after he woke up, slightly squinted in frustration as a penalty was called on him, or screwed tight when he laughed…His eyes were the first thing you fell in love with.

“I love you,” he whispered the exact phrase that was playing on repeat in your head.

“I love you more.”

Mat slightly laughed as he trapped your lips in an innocent kiss. You had trouble kissing him back with the smile on your lips.

He pulled away, his forehead against yours, as his eyes shined bright in the pitch black hallway, “Not a chance.”

You ignored his statement, because while you two could stand in this hallway and debate on who loved each other more until the sun came up, if Mat claimed to love you more…Than that meant the love he had for you was infinite considering how much you loved him. And it filled you with nothing but happiness.

You leaned forward and pressed another small kiss to his lips, “Goodnight, Mat.”

And for the third time that night, you felt his lips against yours. He pulled back with a smile, “Night, Y/N.”

You placed a hand on the handle and pushed it down, but you watched Mat walk down the hallway and to the guest room before walking into the room where you used to dream of having a boyfriend as wonderful as Mat. After you finished your nighttime routine, you pulled your covers back and crawled into bed.

While you set your morning alarm on your phone, a text from Mat caused your phone to vibrate. A smile erupted on your face as you clicked on it to read.

Can’t wait to see you in the morning…Love you :)

Sometimes, when you and Mat didn’t sleep together at night, you found yourself struggling to fall asleep. But with his text message, and knowing that he was only a few doors down, you slept peacefully.

––

You woke up a few minutes before your alarm, ready to start a new day. And while you didn’t rush your morning routine, you definitely got ready faster than normal. Once you were satisfied with your look, you quietly stepped out into the hallway and tiptoed down to the guest bedroom. Mat liked to sleep in when he didn’t have morning skate or a game, so you expected him to be laying on his stomach, face buried in a pillow, with one leg sticking out from under the covers.

But when you cracked the door open a little, you were surprised to see the bed fully made with no Mat in sight.

A small hmpf escaped your lips as you checked your phone. But the last communication you had with him was when you responded to his goodnight text. Curious to find out where he had gone, you made your way downstairs.

When you walked into the kitchen, you saw your mom sitting at the island drinking tea, and your sister leaned up against the counter with a bowl of cereal.

But there was still no Mat.

“Has anyone seen Mat?”

Your sister looked up from her cereal and smirked, “Good morning to you too.”

With a roll of your eyes, you took a mug down from the cabinet, picked out a tea bag, and poured the water from the kettle that was still hot. Cupping your hands around the warmth of the mug, you glared at your sister, “Morning.”

“He and your dad went on a walk,” your mom answered.

Your hands tightened around the mug to keep it from dropping to the ground, “What?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Your sister let out a laugh as she shoveled a spoonful of cereal in her mouth, “He looked scared to death when dad asked him to go.”

Ignoring your sister, you looked over at your mom with wide eyes, silently asking her if your sister was telling the truth. Your mom’s bashful smile confirmed it, “He did look a little…uneasy.”

With a groan, you leaned your head back, “He is absolutely terrified of dad.”

“With reason.”

You elbowed your sister in her side and looked at your mom for some reassurance. She set her mug down, “Your father likes him, he just wants some time to get to know him more.”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed. From talking with your dad, you knew that he was fascinated by Mat, but no matter how many times you tried to reassure him…Mat never believed you. Maybe this walk would be good for him, you thought to yourself, maybe this is what Mat needs.

The more you talked to yourself, you started to feel better. That was until your sister decided to share her input.

“I wished him luck before he went. Told him if it didn’t go well to not forget to say bye as he hightailed it out.”

An aggravated breath left your lips as you turned to face her, “Would it kill you to––”

But you were cut off when you heard the door open and laughter fill the front of the house. Your ears perked up and your sister sent you a sly smirk.

When your dad and Mat walked into the kitchen, they were all smiles, and Mat didn’t look the slightest bit nervous. A smile instantly brightened up your face when you saw Mat. His hair was a bit unruly, but he looked soft in his gray New York Islanders sweatshirt and gym shorts. And when Mat made eye contact with you, he smiled.

He made his way through the kitchen and leaned up against the counter next to you. His hip touched yours, and you felt like it was a win considering it was the closest thing Mat had done to show any public displays of affection in front of your family.

“Morning,” Mat smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you reciprocated his smile, “Have a nice walk?”

He nodded proudly, but before he could get a word out, your father spoke up.

“Next time I’m in New York, Mat, let’s meet up for dinner or lunch.” Your father spoke so nonchalantly as he poured himself a cup of coffee that it made you choke on your tea, “I’ll buy.”

You looked between your dad and Mat with wild eyes.

Mat let out a laugh and tucked his hands in the front pockets of his sweatshirt, “That sounds nice. If you’re all ever in New York, let me know and I’ll get you tickets for a game.”

Your parents and sister started their own conversation and you bumped your hip against Mat’s, which caused him to look down at you. With your eyebrows raised high, you repeated your question, “Have a nice walk?”

“I think he pretended not to like me at first,” Mat whispered, “But then we talked about fishing, and then hockey, life,” he tilted his back and forth as he listed the topics of conversation, “you.”

“Me?”

A single breathy laugh passed through Mat’s nostrils, “Of course you were a topic of conversation.”

“And?”

Mat shrugged his shoulders and took the cup of tea out of your hands and took a sip for himself. He looked straight ahead as he brought the mug down from his lips, “He said he likes me.” A smile lit up your face, but before you could say I-told-you-so, Mat handed the tea back to you, “He also told me not to fuck it up.”

You let out a laugh as you leaned your forehead against his bicep. When your laughter calmed down, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “So far, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Oh, just a pretty good––”

“Hey, hockey player,” your sister cut Mat off, which caused both of you to pick your heads up to look at her. After a moment of silence, she wickedly smiled, “What’s your preferred alcohol of choice?”

“It’s literally not even nine in the morning,” you deadpanned.

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, but your sister defended herself, “It’s Saturday, I want to know in preparation for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Mat’s voice sounded just as confused as his face.

You rolled your eyes, “She wants to sit around the fire pit outside and drink.”

“That sounds fun,” He looked at your sister with a smile, “I’m not too picky, whatever you have is fine.”

As the day continued, everything went more smoothly than you could’ve ever imagined. Mat clearly got along with your family, which made you happier than ever, and you walked around your hometown with him. While you loved the dynamic Mat was creating with your family, it felt nice to have some alone time with him. Especially when he slipped his hand into yours and pulled you close.

And when you were back at the house, and the sun was just starting to set after dinner was all cleaned up, your dad and Mat went to start the fire pit outside. You grabbed a few blankets, your mom made sure there were seats for everyone outside, and your sister grabbed the bottle of wine and glasses.

The fire crackled as you pushed the screen door forward to walk outside. You set the blankets down on the backs of one of the chairs as you made your way over to Mat, who was sitting on a little bench. With a little skip in your step, you walked over and plopped down next to him.

With your head on his shoulder, he threw an arm around you and pulled you in close. You pressed a single kiss to his jaw, “What’re you drinking?”

He shrugged, “Whatever your dad is having.”

“Show off,” you snorted.

Mat’s shoulders softly shook with laughter, “Need to keep impressing him.”

“You play professional hockey,” it was your sister’s voice that took both you and Mat out of your own little world. She came over and handed you a glass of wine, “You can just breathe and he’ll be impressed with you.”

Mat’s face turned red and you gladly took the wine from your sister, “She’s not really wrong,” you said to Mat.

“But I––”

The three of you stopped talking when you heard the squeak of the screen door open. All eyes were focused on your mom walking out with your dad not too far behind, with two glasses of liquor in his hands.

Your mom sat down in a chair, with your sister giving her a glass of wine too, and your dad walked toward you and Mat.

“Hope you like whiskey,” your dad chuckled as he handed Mat a glass.

Mat nodded in appreciation, “This is perfect, thank you.”

As everyone got settled in their seats, you threw the blanket over you and Mat, because you knew that would be the only way for Mat to feel comfortable holding your hand in front of your parents. And your assumption was correct. With the fire, and it being the beginning of April, a blanket felt perfect, but you liked the way his hand felt between yours more.

“He poured you whiskey over ice,” you smiled into your wine glass, “He loves you.”

Mat tried to conceal his smile, but you knew how much it meant to get the approval of your dad.

That night turned out to be one of your favorite night’s ever. Everyone had themselves a good time drinking, your sister eventually brought out her speaker and played music, and everyone––including Mat himself––had a good laugh when they heard him shamelessly singing along to Drops of Jupiter.

Nothing could compare to the bliss you felt in that moment, holding Mat’s hand under the blanket, as everyone had the time of their life.

–––

Sunday night came sooner than expected and that meant your little vacation was close to an end. Both you and Mat had to get back to New York, but your parents––especially your dad––encouraged the two of you to come back whenever you felt like it.

You were stood by your mom as your dad and Mat were kneeling next to his tires, checking the air pressure.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation between them, that you tuned out, they both stood up. Your dad wiped his hands on jeans, “They seem fine to me.”

Mat looked a bit embarrassed as he brought one of his hands to rub behind his neck, “Yeah…I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden the light started to blink…”

“No worries at all,” your dad said, “Better to be safe than sorry. If it happens again, there are a few gas stations before you hit the highway.”

Mat nodded with a closed lipped smile, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” He then looked over at you, “Ready?”

With a nod, you gave your mom one last hug and promised that you’d see her again soon. And just when you let go of your mom and turned around to walk to Mat’s car, you saw your dad and Mat shake hands, before your dad brought him in for a small hug.

Your dad placed a small clap on Mat’s back before pulling away, “Take care,” his eyes fell on you for a brief second, before looking back at Mat, “Alright?”

Understanding the underlying meaning of what your dad meant, Mat nodded his head firmly, “Always.”

After saying bye to your dad, you and Mat hopped in the car for the second time. And this time, whatever light started to blink wasn’t there, and the two of you pulled out of the driveway, with your parents waving.

“Told you you had nothing to worry about,” You turned to smile at him.

Mat rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

As he pulled up to a stop sign, you quickly leaned over and pressed a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, again, for coming. It really meant a lot to my parents.” Mat sat at the stop sign and turned toward you as your voice dwindled off with your next sentence, “And it meant a lot to me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Mat furrowed his eyebrows in seriousness, “And I had a really great time with your family.” He smiled as he picked up your hand, “I love you, you know.”

You squeezed his hand in appreciation, “I love––”

“Shit.”

A loud honk from behind––And Mat swearing––interrupted your sentence and it caused him to drop your hand, look both ways to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, and stepped on the gas pedal. You laughed at his face turning a deep shade of red as he slowed down his speed.

“It’s not funny.”

You leaned back in the seat and wiped a few tears from the corner of your eye, “It was so––you looked so scared––and you swore––”

“Whatever,” Mat grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face, that you knew he agreed with you that it was a little funny.

Once your laughing settled down, you finished your sentence, “I love you, too.”

With his eyes straight ahead on the road, Mat blindly picked your hand up and gave it a squeeze, “You better.”

And it was that moment that made you realize you didn’t want to say I love you to anyone else, except for Mat, for the rest of your life.

–––

The trees were bare as you drove down the streets of your hometown. Your windows were rolled up to keep the frigid December air outside; and the sun was hidden beneath an array of clouds, just like the nonexistent smile on your face. And when you looked both ways as you came to a stop sign, you were reminded that there wasn’t a person accompanying you in the passenger seat.

Part of you thought about cracking the windows open slightly, because letting in the brisk air would make you feel something other than the numbness that had made a home in the center of your chest recently.

You tried to ignore the sting behind your eyes, but trying your hardest to not focus on everything that had happened in the last few weeks caused your mind to do the exact opposite. In a matter of seconds, you were only thinking about everything that happened nearly two weeks ago. Your frown deepened because how did everything blow up in your face.

Nearly two weeks ago, Mat broke up with you.

For you, it felt like it came out of nowhere. But for Mat, he said that he had been feeling it for a few weeks. It started off with Mat cautiously bringing up how he felt like he didn’t see you enough, then to you defending your work schedule and how hockey had started back up again, and by the end of the night, you had failed to hold back your tears as Mat kept apologizing about how he felt like the two of you were “growing apart.”

You left his place before he could give you another reason as to why he didn’t want to be with you, and a day and a half later, when you made sure he was at hockey practice, you picked up your stuff from his place and left your key on his counter.

The loud honk of a car horn from behind didn’t phase you in the slightest.

Carefully, you checked to make sure there weren’t any cars at the all-way stop, and drove off. You weren’t too far from your parents house, and spent the rest of the drive on autopilot.

Soon enough, you were in front of your old house. With your hands gripping around the steering wheel, you screwed your eyes tight and inhaled a deep breath; I’m fine, you repeated the lie in your head as you exhaled, I’m fine.

With a few more breathing exercises, you decided it was time to face your family. Opening the car door felt like ripping off a band aid as you took your duffle bag out from the back seat.

Sluggishly, you walked up the driveway to the front door. And with another deep breath, you silently whispered “I’m fine” to yourself before placing your hand on the handle to open the door. The first thing you saw was your sister sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.

She looked up from her phone with a surprised face, “You’re here early.”

You mustered up the smallest of smiles, “There was barely any traffic.”

Hesitantly, she nodded her head because she didn’t buy your lie. And she was right not to because you had requested the day off from work so you could get out of New York and to your family as soon as possible. Even though it was one of the most populated cities in the world, you felt suffocated by the thought of potentially running into Mat at any given time.

You needed out of the city like he wanted out of the relationship.

“How are––Are you––You know…” Your sister stumbled over her words, backtracking every time she was about to ask how you were because she knew the answer to that already. She apologetically smiled and itched the bridge of her nose, “Want a hug?”

You took an audible deep breath, and nodded, “Yeah.”

She kindly didn’t point out the way your voice cracked.

With her arms wrapped tightly around you, you squeezed her back as if you were about to fall off the Empire State Building. While your friends in the city had comforted you, there was nothing more comforting than a hug from a family member in a time of distress.

When she felt your grasp around her loosen, she took a step back, but kept her hands on your shoulder, “Do you want water? Or some tea?”

You shook your head and politely declined her offer, “I think I’m gonna put my stuff in my room and then come down.”

She nodded her head with a small smile and you turned around to head up the stairs.

Trudging up the stairs felt like it took too much energy than it should have, but you reasoned with yourself that between driving and being emotionally exhausted…It was fine to feel winded walking up the stairs.

You pushed open the door to your childhood bedroom, dropped your bag on the floor, and went straight to your bed. Unpacking your clothes could wait a few minutes.

Your head was buried into your pillows, the comforting scent of your childhood surrounded you, as you let out a shaky breath. Everything is fine, you repeated, I’m fine. But the more you kept saying the little mantra, the more you felt your throat tighten and the stinging behind your eyes intensify.

No, you scolded yourself as you sat up on your bed, no crying.

So you did your best to distract yourself; you decided to unpack. You absolutely hated to unpack your belongings, especially since you were only going to be home for the weekend, but you hated wrinkled clothing more. And that was your motivation to hang up all of your articles of clothing.

You had just finished hanging up your last sweater, but had let go of it too soon, so the sweater fell to the floor. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you bent down to pick it up, but something blue in the back of your closet caught your eye.

Holding your breath, you hadn’t seen that shade of navy blue in a few weeks.

With shaky hands, and your fallen sweater long forgotten, you grabbed the sweatshirt that was pushed in the back of your closet. And once you brought it out into the light, you sucked in a deep breath, because your thoughts were confirmed when you saw the familiar Islanders logo on the front.

It was as if that sweatshirt was the final key. The final key to unlocking the heart wrenching memory of the day that the relationship you thought would last forever…ended. All you could do was clutch the sweatshirt in your fist and remember.

You remembered the painful sting in your chest when you first arrived at his place and he slightly moved out of the way when you went in for a hug.  

You remembered the lightheadedness you felt when you realized that your worst fear was suddenly starting to become a reality.

You remembered the ringing in your ear when he asked if you felt it too.

“Feel what?” The words barely came out.

“This,” Mat stood at the other side of the kitchen as he gestured his hands between the two of you, “This-–This space. This disconnect.” You were left speechless as he rubbed his face with his hands, it didn’t look like he was enjoying himself having this conversation with you, and that left you even more confused.

“What––Where is this coming from?”

Mat was a very perceptive person, but he ignored the way your hands slightly shook in panic and how your breaths grew shallower.

“I’ve been feeling it for a few weeks,” he confessed in a strained voice, “We’re growing apart––I never see you anymore––”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, “Never see me? You––You just came back from a God knows how long road trip from the west coast!” You waited to see if he had anything to say, but he didn’t. “I work a typical nine to five job, I have time for you. But you––Hockey is––”

“Hockey’s what?” Mat’s voice was challenging as he carried himself across the kitchen to you. He narrowed his eyes, “Want to finish that sentence?”

With a sigh, you took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut. This is not happening, you repeated in your head, This can absolutely not be happening.

You opened your eyes and tried your best to remain calm, even though on the inside you could feel your soul shatter. And it would only take one vicious sentence from him to break absolutely everything inside of you.

“I don’t want to fight,” you took a deep breath because you knew whichever way this discussion went, a fight was bound to happen, “But I have time for you. I make time for you. I know hockey is demanding, I know it’s not a typical job, but if we both work at it, we can make more time for each other.”

“What time?” Mat let out an irritated laugh. You wanted to believe that he wasn’t irritated at you, and that he was irritated at hockey instead, but with his earlier confession of disconnection, you didn’t know what to believe.

“You just complained about me being gone for an extended amount of time.”

You picked at a loose piece of skin by your thumb, “I did, yes–—I know.” You let out a shaky breath, “But we talked, we FaceTimed, we kept up that connection.” You pleaded with him, “What do you––What can I do?”

The anger washed away from his face and you saw that it was replaced with remorse.

With his eyes casted downward, he frowned, “Is there…Is there anything left to do?”

You were left stunned at his ease of abandoning your relationship. In the time you had known Mat, he was never a quitter. He never gave up on anything he was passionate about, even with the trivial things that he didn’t quite care about, he always saw them through. He was an athlete…He never gave up on anything.

So why was he giving up on you?

When you took a step back, he whipped his head up to look at you. His eyes were red; full of pain and heartache as if he wasn’t the one surrendering. He took a step toward you, but like a dance, you took another step back.

“Mat, we’ve been together for over a year,” your voice wavered at the thought of all those months with him dissipating into nothing, “What is happening.”

His best response was to keep silent and shrug his shoulders.

Reality hit you like a ton of bricks. This is it, you thought to yourself, I’m losing the most important person in my life. A tear rolled down your cheek as you let out a hiccup from trying to hold your breath to stop the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth.

“I hate seeing you cry,” he whispered softly.

“Then why––why are you doing this?”

Mat ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath as he leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, “It’s holding me back. Everything is just––I can feel it affecting me and it’s not what I want––”

You heard his reasons differently though, instead of ‘it’s’, you heard ‘you.’

You’re holding me back.

You’re affecting me.

You’re not what I want.

All while you felt your relationship was stronger than ever, Mat felt like it was falling apart at the seems.

“I’m sorry,” Mat sniffled, “I’ll always love you, but––”

You shook your head, “You––No.” You brought both hands up to rub away your tears, but when you dropped your arms down at your sides, the tears you washed away reappeared. “You can break up with me, this relationship can be over, whatever.” You glared at him, “But you cannot say that.”

Mat scoffed, “Say that I love you?” You nodded angrily as Mat flared his nostrils, “But I do! I can’t help that this is how I feel about our relationship now, but I loved you then and I love you now! Things just aren’t working now––”

“While I don’t like what I’m hearing, I’ll respect your feelings,” you choked out, “but you need to respect mine and not say those words to me.”

“I want you to know that I still feel love for you,” his voice trembled, “That I’ll always––”

“Then why are you quitting on us?!”

“Because I feel like I never see you!” Mat threw his hands up in the air, “Sure, we can love each other, but what about the actual connection of a relationship? Furthering something that we can make a future out of?”

“I’m always here for you in New York when you get back,” you clenched your jaw, “We see each other as often as possible between our schedules! What do you––Do you want me to come out to away games?” You raised your eyebrows at him, “Because while I wish I could be at every one of your games, I can’t. I have a job. Just like you have a job––”

Mat scoffed, “So it all comes back to hockey?”

“Maybe if you put in a bit more effort, you wouldn’t feel this way.” You fired back.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” your voice softened when you saw his eyes betray him for a moment. Instead of the fiery eyes that burned through you like a wildfire, you saw eyes that looked one sentence away from breaking a dam of tears. And while you wanted him to feel every ounce of betrayal and heartbreak that you were going through, there was a piece of your heart that still loved him too much to put him through that kind of pain.

So instead, you said what you were feeling, which had the possibility to cause the same damage if you had just berated him.

“If hockey is your one true love in life, then that’s great,” you failed miserably at faking a smile, “I’m happy for you. Happy that you found something you can fully commit to and put in effort to make work even when it would just be easier to quit.”

Mat almost reached a hand out to you, but brought it back down to his side after a second thought, as he softly shook his head and whispered, “You know that’s not true–-”

“But it is,” you wiped away dry tears from your cheek with the heel of your palm, “And it’s…Whatever. It’s whatever, but if you don’t put that same effort into your relationships with people––If you don’t prioritize the right things in life––then you’ll end up alone and unloved.”

Mat stood frozen in the middle of his kitchen. And when he snapped out of whatever trance he was under, all he could manage was to shake his head as a single tear fell down his cheek, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “I’m not asking you to give up hockey. I’d never do that because I know how happy it makes you and it’s your career,” you gave him a weak smile because the realization set in, “But I think that last sentence is a lie.”

“I just––” Mat pinched the bridge of his nose, “Something is off, we’re not the same––”

You shook your head, tuning out more reasons why the man you loved more than life itself didn’t want to be with you anymore. You walked over to where your bag hung over the back of a chair, picked it up, and then walked toward the front door for your shoes.

“Where are you going?”

Once your shoes were securely on, you turned to face him one last time. He looked as if he also couldn’t believe that this relationship was over, even though he was the one who pulled the trigger. His mouth was slightly agape, eyebrows raised in anxiousness, and eyes filled to the brim with tears.

“Home,” you said matter-of-factly, “I really don’t want to hear more reasons why I wasn’t enough.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry––”

You were out the door before he finished his sentence.

“Y/N,” a voice pulled you out of the nightmare that was doomed to play on repeat in your mind for the rest of your life, “Y/N?”

You blinked a few times to see your mom kneeling in front of you. She had a hand placed on your thigh and her eyes were filled with concern. But when her eyes flicked down to what you were clutching on for dear life in your hands, her face dropped as she looked back up at you, “Oh, sweetie…”

“I’m fine,” you sniffled as you itched your cheek. But when you scratched your skin, your cheek felt damp, and upon further inspection of wiping away the wet substance on your cheek, it dawned on you that you were crying.

“Y/N…” your mother repeated your name cautiously, expecting you to hit your tipping point soon.

With a shake of your head, you folded the sweatshirt up. But with the way your hands shook, the folding wasn’t even and the sleeve poked out a bit, so you unfolded the sweatshirt just to re-fold it again, “I’ll donate this somewhere.” The sweatshirt was still uneven, so you refolded it again, “I’m sure someone would buy it fast, it––It’s in good condition––”

Your mom tried to take the sweatshirt away, but you tugged it back toward your chest, refolding it again.

“New York teams are pretty––pretty popular,” you let out a hiccup as your vision started to blur, “I––maybe I can bring this back with me? Give it away as a birthday present?” Your chin wobbled as you felt your breathing come out uneven, “It’ll make someone happy, right?”

Your mom gently grabbed you by the wrist to stop your folding of Mat’s sweatshirt. Sitting on the floor, by the edge of your closet in defeat, you clenched your jaw tight as you sucked in a deep breath. Finally, you looked up at your mom through your teary vision and tried to sniffle away your runny nose.

“It’ll make someone as happy as he made me.”

She didn’t have to say anything for you to bring his sweatshirt––one that still smelled like him––up to your face as you openly sobbed.

You had been in other relationships, loved other people, been upset when those relationships ended…But you had never loved someone as much as you loved Mat. You thought that Mat was your forever––the person that the universe specifically made just for you––But you lost him.

Your mom wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into her chest. Easily, you fell into her and continued to cry as you clutched the last remaining piece you had of him close to your chest. Your mom didn’t say anything as she cradled you; she knew that no words could mend this feeling of cataclysmic heartbreak, so she simply offered you her presence and a shoulder to cry on.

“I––Mom, what did I do wrong?” While your words were muffled in his sweatshirt, she heard you loud and clear, and it broke her heart.

She shushed you as she ran a hand up and down your spine, “You did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing…”

“But he––We’re not––I thought that he was the one,” you peered up from the sweatshirt, eyes puffy and irritated from crying, to see tears welled up in your mom’s eyes. You wanted to ask her why she was crying, but an all too familiar pain ripped through your chest as you let out a whine, “Mom.”

Again, she brought you back into her chest and held you close.

“I––I told him he would end up alone and––and unloved,” you tried to speak through the tears, but your erratic breathing made it hard to get a full sentence out without it sounding chopped up.

She shook her head, “We all say things when we’re upset.”

“No, I––I told him that because I––I don’t want anyone else to love him,” you let out a whimper, “I wanted to be…Want to be the only person who loves him like that.” You blinked a few times to look up at your mom and frowned when you saw her tear stained cheeks, “Why are you crying?”

Your mom let out a small laugh and wiped under her eyes “I feel every heartache you go through,” she sniffled and tried her best to offer you a reassuring smile, “If he couldn’t recognize how great of a person you are, then you’ll find someone else who will.”

“But he’s the only one,” you sat up, continued to hug his sweatshirt close to your chest, and reciprocated her sad smile, “I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else.”

Knowing that the heartache you felt was still fresh, your mom knew that no matter how much she tried to convince you that you would find someone else, it would be useless. “I know,” she swiped her thumb under your eye, catching the last of your tears, “Why don’t you take a nap, I’ll come up when it’s dinner.”

You nodded and made your way over to your bed. Once you were under your covers, the blankets tucked right under your chin, your mom shut off your lights and softly closed the door.

While you should’ve knocked out in a few seconds, every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Mat listing reason after reason why he didn’t want to be with you. Your own personal hell. So, while your eyes stung from crying your heart out, you kept them wide open as you stared at the ceiling out of fear of what you would see when they closed.

A few hours had passed and there was a knock on your door. You let out a small, come in, and saw your dad walk in.

Slowly, you sat up, wiping away a few stray tears, and let out a chuckle when he placed a glass down on your nightstand, “Whiskey over ice?”

He offered a sympathetic smile, “The best cure for what you’re going through.”

For what you’re going through, he said it as if he was still in denial of your break up. Which was fair, because you had never seen your dad warm up so fast to one of your boyfriends.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, “If you’re feeling up for it.”

You smiled in appreciation, “Thanks, but I’m not too hungry…Might try to sleep some more.” Your dad raised his eyebrows, “I’ll eat in the middle of the night when I wake up, promise.”

He smiled and gave in to your promise as he retreated toward the door. He was halfway out when he decided to stick his head back in, “You know, I never really liked him.”

It was the first genuine laugh you had let out in weeks. Because both of you knew how much of a lie that was.

Whenever your dad was in New York, he texted Mat and they would meet up for a meal or drinks, and sometimes they wouldn’t include you in plans. Your dad never missed an Islander’s game, and for his birthday, Mat had gifted your dad a signed Barzal jersey as a joke. They had their own relationship, and in turn, it contributed to the happiness you felt with Mat.

But nonetheless, your dad was always on your team.

After his comment, he slowly shut the door like your mom had done earlier, and this time, you really did try your best to sleep.

Sleep had been impossible since Mat broken things off with you. It took everything in you not to call his number and have him talk you to sleep most nights. And you wished that deleting his number would be enough, because even if you had deleted it, you had it memorized and could easily dial his number with your eyes closed.

But with his sweatshirt that you still held close to body, sleep came a little easier.

PART TWO

[thatslikely]

A Slow Dance - G.W.

A Slow Dance- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: none! pure fluff <3

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: y’all I’m serious. where’s my George. I need someone like this asap, don’t be shy universe. hope you guys enjoy as always :)

Just a Reminder: song lyrics/thoughts are in italics [I imagined is Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka, but any song works]

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa 

if you want to be added, send me a dm or an ask!

Requested by the lovely @amourtentiaa [my first request I’ve gotten, and I love it!]

----

“Ugh. Why do you have to sit hunched over your desk studying all the time? Have at least a little fun! It’s our last year at Hogwarts!” A sprawled out George exclaimed from your ruffled four-poster bed with a groan. His handsome face hung off the edge of the bed frame, his upside-down gaze fixed on your distracted figure.

George was always quite needy; it was practically a law of nature. Whether it was running around pulling a record-breaking marathon of pranks, or just tenderly holding his large, soft hand while discussing your favorite novel, he lapped up every ounce of you he could. 

“Georgie, if I don’t do well on my N.E.W.T.s, how do you expect me to get a decent job?” you asked with a bit more bite than you intended. The complex, academic sentences scribbled onto the parchment before you droned through your brain like headache-inducing white noise, which soured your attitude more than you liked to admit. 

It made your heart flutter knowing that George yearned for your care so much, but you had your whole life to spend with the vexatious redhead. You only had the next week to pass your N.E.W.T.s. 

“You’ll always have a job down with me at the shop, c’mon! Imagine: my two favorite things wrapped up into one!” he said, before adding more softly, “plus, you’d look so cute in the uniform.” You couldn’t help your cheeks from heating up at his affectionate comment, which wasn’t intended to grace your ears. 

“I wish it was simple as that, Georgie. While I’d love to work with you at the shop, you know that’s not what I really want to do. You always tell me to shoot for the moon, and this is just part of the process.” You were unrelenting with your studying, which George of course admired, but he was equally relentless in his pursuit of spending time with you, even if it was just for a second. 

The dorm fell suspiciously quiet, which allowed your mind to delve even deeper into your studies. The strokes of your quill grew deeper and sharper into the parchment with focus, the ink-blotted tip eventually tearing a small rip mid-sentence.

A breath that you unknowingly held escaped your lips in the form of an exasperated sigh. You rubbed your temples before picking up the quill and starting again. 

You mindlessly scribed cursive onto the dense paper for several minutes before snapping out of your trance at the jarring noise of a chair’s legs scraping across the hardwood floors. George took the vacant seat next to you, resting his elbow on the surface of the desk. 

His handsome face rested comfortably in his palm, his whole body turned towards you. You could’ve sworn his mischievous but lovable gaze flickered to your soft lips every few seconds like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole. 

Stop thinking about George, and his delicious lips, alluring cocoa-colored eyes, fluffy red hair… think about Transfiguration! 

Your quill-wielding wrist moved in more furious motions, your determination to stay devoted to your academics made your eyes drift to the smug titian-haired boy next to you more than ever. You eventually succumbed to your heart’s desires, giving George a small glance.

The expression George donned shattered your expectations; you expected his eyes to be droopy and half-asleep, jaw-slacked in boredom, evidenced by his disdain of all things school-related. 

Instead, however, his red tongue stuck out to his chin, his index fingers pulling apart his freckled cheeks. His mocha eyes were humorously crossed, fixed on his adorable aquiline nose. He looked utterly ridiculous.

“What’re you doing, Georgie? You look absurd!” you questioned with a hefty chuckle. His eyes lit up with triumph at the laugh fleeing your lips. 

“I’m getting your eyes off that stupid piece of parchment! You’ve been writing nonsense on it for the past quarter of an hour. You need a break.”

“Just let me study a bit more, then I promise I’ll spend some time with you, okay?” you bargained, hoping for compliance. You pivoted your head back to the strewn papers resting on the mahogany desk in front of you, ready to get back into a productive rhythm. 

The welcome rhythm never stayed for long though, for it was always disrupted by George making another goofy face. He’s just being a child, you thought, you’re a seventh year. Ridiculous faces aren’t funny. Oh how wrong you were. 

With every new expression that graced his features, another laugh threatened to escape your mouth. Soon enough, your eyes were steadily fixed on the frivolous ginger, ready for what face he would come up with next. 

Your brain was locked in a battle: George and his loveable humor, versus your Transfiguration notes and passing your N.E.W.T.s. Both were hardy competitors, but in the end, McGonagall’s subject prevailed. George got up from the seat next to you with a huff, blowing a stray red strand of hair up from his forehead. 

He paced around the large room, scheming a way to get your undivided attention. He peeked around the wooden shelves and dressers that stayed pressed against the walls of the dorms, looking for something, anything.

His eyes eventually settled on the record player on your nightstand by your bed. It was a muggle device that his father had ranted about many times before, and he guessed that he could probably figure out how to work it. 

His calloused fingers plucked the top inky-black vinyl record from the stack, feeling the textured grooves engraved in its surface. He set the record in place, dropping the needle not long after. The previously pin-drop silent room quickly came to life with the enrapturing sounds of harmonious chords.

It appeared that even the universe wanted to free you from the shackles of your boring notes, for the vinyl George happened to choose was your favorite song, and a slow, romantic one at that. 

George lightly tapped your back, causing you to swivel around towards him. He had his long, toned arm outstretched to you charmingly, beckoning you for a dance. You gingerly placed your palm into his and he swiftly pulled you out of the chair and into the middle of the floor.

His face was handsome as ever; you only just now realized how much you missed all of him. His gentle touch, his honey-pooled eyes, the pure love pumping through his veins. His hands rapturously rested on your waist, yours’ wrapped around the nape of his neck. You twirled a small section of his red hair in between your fingers, which only made the lovestruck grin on his face grow bigger.

The song continued to echo through the cozy walls of the room, the unified swaying of your hips in sync with the song’s slow beat. You nearly melted in his warm embrace, his arms gradually bringing you closer and closer to his beating chest.

You eventually rested your head on George’s shoulder, feeling the soothing vibrations of his vocal chords humming along with the notes of the song. 

Put your lips next to mine dear, won’t you kiss me once, baby?

As if the song had you two lovebirds under a spell, George slowly brought his lips to yours, giving you a slow and passionate kiss. 

He’d kissed you so many times before, but this time it felt different, in the best way possible. It was as if angels sang when your lips graced his’; you could taste his feelings through the connection, his devotion and longing for you overriding your senses. Your eyes teared up at the wave of endearing emotions that overcame you. 

The sensual dancing continued long through the night, the tender and enchanting kisses and slow sways wiping your mind of the stressful upcoming exams. 

“Feel better, darling?” George breathily mumbled into your ear, the warmth from his mouth shooting directly to your heart, coating your body with goosebumps.

All your hazy, smitten mind could respond with was a simple but passionate, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

[vidalinav]

Letting Things Get too Far: (One-shot) *Contains ACOSF spoilers

This is not the fic I was going to post and I am on the fence now about posting “Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue.” I might still do it, but I don’t know, because I don’t want the six chapters to influence my perception, but OMG I am so mad. I have to laugh because I’ve never been this mad before. And I know eventually it will be okay with the rest of the book, but I cannot deal NOW with what we’ve got. I will not be unbiased, no reader in the world is unbiased when they love a book, but oooo this is a little too much. Like if you’re not deeply enraged are you even a fan? Lol

The only way I deal with emotions is writing because I get really obsessive and I cannot stop thinking about something until I change my mind about it, so I wrote a fic based on those chapters to change my mind. 

So Please don’t read this fic if you haven’t read the 5.5 chapters that were released (legally) to the world yesterday. I do have to say that I wrote this based on Italian translation and not of the one that was translated by someone here in English. But the general concept it the same. 

Summary: Nesta gets threatening (some time after she’s “healed”) 

~

Nesta could tell they were watching her. She supposed it must have seemed off to them that she was sitting in the dining room, reading a newspaper, a toast with jam and cup of tea to the side of her. Too casual, they must have thought. So very much unlike the Nesta they knew.

But one by one they sat—to the side of her of course since she’d chosen the head of the table. Nesta knew of only one other person who would dare sit across from her. She smirked behind the letters, the paper smelling of ink.

First Elain, sweet Elain with her soft, cautious good morning.

Then Feyre with her ruffled hair, matted and imperfect. Nothing like the High Lady she was supposed to be. How embarrassing, she thought, that Feyre had not yet learned that queens were to be perfect in every instance. Every circumstance.

Mor yawned loudly, stretching her arms above her head. The billowy blonde looked to Feyre as Nesta sipped a bit of tea. Green with a slice of lemon.

Amren was shushed as she came barreling in. Loudly and grumpy. Tired, perhaps, from her days going over the law books of Velaris code.

Rhysand kissed the apple of Feyre’s cheek, her little sister’s skin turning red. A honeyed gesture that made the rest gag mockingly for the way Rhys then bit down on the soft flesh and playfully pulled. He indeed sat where she thought he was going to—the only seat left closest to Feyre. His brows furrowed when he noticed her across from him, but Nesta didn’t give him the light of day.

The game had not begun.

Nesta waited for the missing player, ruffling the newspaper, the sound harsh in this room where all remained quiet. As if they were waiting for something.

Waiting for someone.

Azriel walked in, sitting to the side of her. He peered up at her. Wary and assessing. What are you up to?

She blinked at him surprised, not at all expecting that he’d be here for this—that he’d come down from the House of Wind to grace them with his presence. No matter. This talk wasn’t particularly for him, but she supposed he’d learn something too. As they all could.

The last one of them arrived with a flourish down the stairs. Bright and loud, stomping on the wood as if soldiers had been set loose in this house and not merely one male who made her smile sweetly despite herself.

He kissed her on the lips, a small peck. Something new for the others to witness. They looked at each other, mirth in their eyes—shock. But not from her happiness, Nesta thought, from their triumph. This broken girl who’d been mended when her heart was full.

“Sit down,” Nesta commanded softly, pointing her chin to the seat beside her—across from Azriel. She watched him look towards his brother, but Azriel merely shrugged.

“You waited for me?” Cassian laughed, the sound off even to her. His eyes squinting with concern… or was that vigilance she saw?

Oh, how dangerous he must know her to be to look at her like that.

Nesta smiled, her eyes softening. “I’d always for wait for you.”

Cassian lips set into a fine line at the sickly-sweet tone.

“In fact, I couldn’t have done this without you,” she gestured to the room, shrugging at the last moment. A strained laugh on her voice, “Or so they’ll say.”

Nesta set her newspaper down. The paper rumbling. Distantly she could hear the yells of soldiers, the clash of swords calling to her in her memory.

But none of that noise was here. No one said a gods-damned thing.

She sighed, sitting back in her chair, surveying them all. She could scent their fear, but Nesta didn’t know who it was coming from as she looked to food in the center. Vibrant jellies, eggs, and bacon. Much more food than any she’d consumed in her months away. She’d been reduced to plain porridge.

“Just say what you need to say, girl,” Amren said, gripping the table with her hands. Small and powerless.

Not as powerful as her anyway.

“You’re right of course, dear friend. I should get on with it as any other.”

Nesta lilted her head in a nod. “Consider this meeting long overdue. It was my fault really, for having been in such a low place. I suppose being constantly faced with death and brutality is a regular occurrence to the fae.”

She shrugged a nonchalant shoulder, huffing a laugh as Cassian’s gaze went to the skin of her collarbone from where her robe had slipped off from her shoulder. “Or so I’ve been endearingly reminded of for the past four months… It was my bad of course for letting things get too far.”

Nesta leaned forward, laying her head delicately on her hand. “Isn’t that what you said Feyre? I want to get the exact words right.”

But Feyre didn’t speak only stared at her with those blue eyes so much like hers but so different. They were made from different parts she supposed—different parts of their mother. Feyre got the stomach, and Nesta got her cold, melodic heart.

Queen indeed.

“Letting things get too far?” Nesta laughed, the sound loud even to her own ears. “Yes, I suppose that was true… But you know, this amazing thing happened when I was forced to follow this routine of yours. Have breakfast. Train. Have lunch. Work at the library. Have breakfast. Train. Have lunch. Work at the library. Over and over until I thought the monotony might kill me itself.”

Nesta smiled brightly to all of them, her eyes rolling over their gazes. Elain didn’t dare look at her. Nesta was not in the mood to comfort. What were older sisters for but to lead by example?

“If the magic and the trauma didn’t do it first,” she added.

 She lowered her voice as if she were about to tell a story, engaging her audience until all they could do was listen.

“And then—like a miracle—Cassian was called to Vallahan and I went with him. Screw the rules, he said…” Nesta patted him in the shoulder. A good little soldier. “So easy for you to say that when the rules were not made for you.”

“You know what I discovered?” She sang.

Nesta waited for an answer, but no one would meet her gaze.

She looked to the one who knew so much about the outside world. The one who could never leave the one inside her head. “What did I discover Mor?”

Mor took a sip of her mimosa, cringing as she swallowed. “People fear you.”

“People fear me,” Nesta said, proudly.

She laughed, shaking her head at these beings in pajamas who thought so highly of themselves.

She lifted a shoulder, “for good reason of course. I certainly convinced the council of Vallahan. I always knew I had this power, but to wield it—to not let it control me but to be controlled—Glorious.”

“And you know what I learned in those two weeks?” Nesta lowered her voice, the words slipping out of her in a sneer. “That I have more power in my little pinky then you have in your entire body. All of you.”

She flipped her hair back, where a stray piece had fallen forward, “I got your little treaty signed of course. That was simple. You’d be surprised how easy it is for people to give up their will when they are pissing their pants. But no matter, all’s fair right?”

“Why are you tell us this?” Rhys asked. “What do you want?”

Her eyes went to his, those violent storms of subdued rage.

Tell me again to sit like a dog High Lord, she whispered into his mind. Rhys sat straight up, Feyre grasping his arm.

Nesta simply picked up her newspaper once more. The image in the center showing a great depiction of Velaris’s royal family.

“You ever make a decision on my behalf again,” her voice turning to soft silk. As sweet as a poison apple, “I will burn this city to the ground.”

Nesta tilted her head up, noting the marbled leaves engrained in the ceiling. The opulence. The fraudulent comfort of a house too large for two.

“I think I’ll start with this estate.”

She tutted. “Paints are usually flammable, aren’t they Feyre?”

She watched her sister swallow, the light of Rhysand’s eyes dimming to a darkness she thought might engulf them all.

Nesta could smell his fear…

She lifted the cup to her lips, “Understood?”

“Duly noted.”

The rest mumbled their assent.

And Nesta turned to the toast at her side, already spread with apricot jam. She picked up the bread and set it on Cassian’s plate. “I quite like these jams. We should get some before we go.”

“Too much sugar,” he replied slowly, as if he was getting used to the switch from her being threatening to caring. “You eat this, and you’ll be tired within the hour.”

Nesta pouted in response, wrinkling her nose, “You know, you really need to lighten up. Maybe you’ve gotten harsher in your old age.”

Cassian gave her a hard look.

“I mean, you’re in your 500s. You can barely keep up with the times,” She teased. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t keep up… in other areas.”

Cassian scoffed, lifting his lips in an outrageous laugh.

“Wait” Feyre called, holding her hands up in surrender. Nesta turned to her, lifting a curious brow. Her little sister blinked back, unsure if Nesta still wanted to destroy their home.

She would never destroy her little sister’s home...

But then Nesta thought of her shabby apartment laying in rubbles, ready to be rebuilt.

Oh, right.

“Will you continue to be our emissary?”

That was a question Nesta was not expecting…

“Oh, I don’t know,” She flourished. “I suppose we’ll see how it goes.”

She shrugged dramatically, “You follow these rules… and after a couple of months, I’ll re-assess your behavior. We can revisit me working with you all after some time has passed.”

“I don’t see how you’re allowed to do whatever you please, just by being threatening,” Amren noted.

Nesta smiled at the hypocrisy.

“Subsection B, Line 84 says I can,” Nesta sang, “As long as were making up rules.”

~

I’m laughing as I type this. This book is about to be a cathartic experience. It actually did make me feel better to write this. 

I wish someone would release an epub already. Like fuck this shit, we’ve bought three versions, two versions, one versions, multiple versions. There’s only a week left. It hardly matters, release the PDF! The book was supposed to be out last month anyway. I’m not into self-righteousness right now, like the release of books is mostly about money. Sara has earned her part. I’m sure she’s happy. These are the people who hardly cared about promoting it at all. I think they threw this book out the window a long time ago and you know what they saved money on promotions too. They’ll be fine. 

I’m clearly displacing my anger... But I cant handle this anymore... But I cant stay away.