#this idea has been bouncing around in my mind for a while. for everyone who would just straight up give volo the plates. <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[volostogekiss]

for a moment of your time

No warnings. GN!reader, kinda bittersweet, a lot of conflicting feelings, open ending. Can be read as either platonic or romantic! Basically some thoughts on if you were allowed to just... talk to Volo instead of having to battle, and if he’d asked for the plates instead. Because I’d give them to him if that meant you could meet Arceus and ask why it forced you to come to Hisui and never let you go home, even after everything you did for it. (Also, I think it wouldn’t show up for him anyway, or just let him reset the world. :x) Summary: If there were another option during your confrontation on Mount Coronet, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.

▷ “If you want to keep this world from disappearing, then face me in battle! Not that you have a choice.” Volo leans in toward you with a menacing grin, a certain darkness flitting through his eye. “Even if you don’t wish to battle me, I’m not above using force to take those plates from you.”

▷ Despite your urge to step back, to recoil at everything he’d just revealed to you and that he was… threatening you, you won’t give up any ground to him. Not even when your heart almost freezes at his words. “Are you… threatening me?”

▷ Volo cocks his head to the side, then extends a hand to you in a faux act of peace. He points an index finger at you, like he often did, and strangely, now you can see how his mischief had always disguised the danger behind it. “Oh, it isn’t a threat, per say, rather that my patience has merely run out.”

▷ “Yeah?” you counter, holding out your arm in front of Typhlosion, who’s growling and rearing to incinerate the man across from you. You’re trying to keep your emotions under control, but a ferocious anger and depressing exhaustion are fighting within your heart. So he’s always thought of me like the rest of them... those that he held at such a great distance. You want to scream at the unfairness of it all. He hid it well, then. “Why couldn’t you just ask me like a friend—like I thought we were?”

▷ (You don’t have the heart to confess that you believed you were closer than just another friend, too. Maybe it had been too arrogant of you to think you both held a special place within one another’s hearts.)

▷ His expression wavers at your question, along with the obvious hurt in your tone, in your countenance. There’s no way to look at it differently; he’s going to betray you, and no matter what you say or do, he won’t relent, he tells himself.

▷ (Volo knows that you’d thought so. He’d… even thought the same, saw you as more than the one who could grow so close to him, saw you almost as everything he’d wanted and loved in someone.)

▷ So Volo stays silent, unable to answer you. But you’re not done. You plant your feet firmly, toss your head back, and then fire off pointedly, “And, don’t you think my patience has run out with Arceus, too?”    

▷ His head snaps up. He’s staring at you with a wide eye, and you can’t tell if it’s a cold fury that’s left him so still, his face unreadable. Even though you want to be upset with him, want to berate him for how he’s about to throw you away like nearly everyone else in Hisui had, you can’t; it’ll do you no good now, not when you need to stop him from becoming someone you don’t recognize. You want to have some hope left that Volo isn’t going to walk away from you. That he won’t fall to whatever shadow pervades his heart.

▷ “If you want to meet Arceus, then, fine, you can have them.” You gesture to your satchel with a snap of your hand, the motion conveying more frustration with the situation than your neutral tone admits. “I have my own questions for Arceus I’ve asked every day since being forced to live in Hisui.”

▷ You don’t know if Arceus will really appear or not, even if you do give Volo the plates. If he’d been beseeching such a withdrawn being for years and it had never shown itself to him, your optimism for its arrival now, even less knowing that it would be forced to appear, is severely dwindling. Only once before had you met the deified Pokémon, in some void of your mind or existence—what it was you could never tell—but even then, it had never answered you, despite your pleas. You’re supposedly the Chosen One of Arceus, but it wouldn’t reveal itself to you, even with all the plates here now. You had little hope it would ever present itself at all. Both of you are simply nothing in the eyes of Arceus, aren’t you?

▷ Volo doesn’t look like he believes you. How could he, if he’d been meaning to turn on you all along? He’d have had to think you were always the enemy, and right now, you’re unsure if you can convince him otherwise. Still sneering, Typhlosion levels a burning glare at your adversary, but you know that she cannot be beside you if you want to placate Volo. With a steady hand, unlike how your heart is pitching back and forth in your chest, you reach for Typhlosion’s Poké Ball.

▷ “See?” You’re aware of how Volo is unwilling to trust your word, which stings, but you return Typhlosion anyway, much to her disapproval, and even your own. “I’m serious—just as you were about betraying me, right?”

▷ Tucking her Poké Ball back into your bag, you stare right at Volo, but nothing has changed on his face, even with your snide remark. His expression is still blank, and you wonder if he’ll even accept your offer now. Shouldn’t he? I’m giving him what he wants. With a confident stride that doesn’t match your conflicted feelings, you approach him, opening a hand to him palm-up. This is your last chance to make this effort count, for you don’t want to fight him. You don’t want to lose someone who’s become more important to you than anyone else in Hisui.

▷ “Volo…” you speak his name with every heavy emotion weighing on your heart, as you stand beside him. You need to calm yourself. “Will you sit with me for a moment?”

▷ Unable to look at him any longer, you crouch down on the altar, angle yourself toward the temple’s entrance, and then stretch out your legs. Your satchel thumps onto the ground beside you, the clinking of the plates inside it fully drawing your attention to the current predicament. You want to think of this moment like all the others you’d shared, atop the hills of the fieldlands, in your quarters, together in the ruins... However, there is no joy in your eyes as you offer him the place beside you, a subdued wave of your hand prompting Volo once more to sit. You don’t know why you’d made such a request; maybe it was some silly, yearning part of you that wished you could reach into his heart. Despite being so close to Volo, you don’t… know anything about him, really. He’d never told you about his past. You don’t see him doing so now, though you hope, with everything you have, that he might.

▷ (I wish I could’ve reached you, sooner.)

▷ He doesn’t move, not that you thought he would, since you can feel the impatience and uncertainty curling from him like a wintry chill. But still, you continue on, “I don’t… necessarily disagree with some of your sentiments about Arceus, you know.”

▷ A surge of rage pulses through you suddenly, when you remember that although it’s Arceus who had caused you to lose your life from before, who has ignored every one of your strangled cries for help, it had been Volo who had opened the space-time distortion that wrenched you from your home, as he’d so proudly boasted earlier. Or maybe Arceus had watched that all happen too, planned for it, accounted for it, and had mocked you both for the twist of fate it had woven into your paths, sewing in your star-crossed meeting.

▷ “You’re part of the reason why I’m stuck here!” You don’t know if you’re blaming Volo or Arceus at this point.

▷ The man beside you startles, and he looks down at you, a mixture of sympathy, hatred, and reluctance coiling in his chest. Your agitation is visceral, almost painfully so, but he doesn’t know what he should do anymore. You’re right, but I’d always foreseen myself at the top of the world alone. Before this moment, he would’ve knelt down and reached for your hand, comforted you, and whispered that it would be all right, if you were with him and he with you. But had he forsaken that privilege now? Volo doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s that thought he needs to now put to the test that has him slowly lowering himself to the altar as well. Somewhere in his heart, he knows that he hadn’t wanted to hurt you. He doesn’t want to lose you, either.

▷ You notice that he’s finally sitting down next to you—you assume then that he’s accepted your tacit stipulation for relinquishing the plates to him—but you don’t bother to look over at him. Instead, you unclip your satchel, your voice somehow even when you speak up again, “Hold out your hand, Volo. You can count them as I give them to you.”

▷ There’s another unspoken addition to your statement, that you’ve only said such a thing because you don’t think he’ll trust you, that this is still some kind of trick. Despite how your heart prickles with discomfort, you want to stay rational about this. Even with the plates, and even if he’d use the Celestica Flute (you’re sure Arceus knows how many times you’d played the blasted thing in an attempt to gain an audience with it), you don’t think Arceus will decide to finally show up. Why would Arceus answer either of us now? How could he subject it to anything of his will when it clearly hasn’t deemed it worthwhile to listen and respond? Part of you doesn’t think it’s wise to give Volo all the plates, but part of you hopes that this will quell his wrath, if only for a moment, so that you can bring him back to you.

▷ “Why are you giving me the plates so freely?” he asks you as you pass him the first—a blue one, from Lord Basculegion. You’re serious. He should be glad you’re giving them to him, right? His heart should be singing at the prospect of accomplishing his goal, and yet… A note of incredulous hesitance slips into his voice, and you laugh at him loudly, the abruptness of it all catching him off-guard.

▷ “‘Why’! ‘Why?’ he asks, as I’m already giving these damn things to him, like he wanted!” Maybe you’ve lost it. You don’t know. Your thoughts are spiraling, and you’re grasping the next plate too stiffly. Why are you giving him the plates? Because you know that he will fail again, as you had failed, and as he had failed before—that Arceus won’t answer you. Is it so that you could fail together? So he could see how useless it all was? So that he would give this up? So that you could stop him?

▷ “I don’t know, Volo, maybe because I like you,” you snarl out, unintentionally rough. “Maybe because I’m angry with you, but I still want to hope you’re the same person I always knew you as. Does that make any sense? Is it selfish of me to want you to pull Arceus from its throne in the heavens so that I can demand answers from it as well? I don’t know, Volo.”

▷ Your reply isn’t what he’d expected. Stunned, Volo almost drops the Flame Plate he’d plucked from your involuntary stranglehold; it had surprisingly yielded the second his fingers had brushed over yours. I don’t understand why. The next plate. Then the third—yellow. A fourth, the Meadow Plate, joins the growing stack beside him. Volo isn’t sure he can really believe this is happening. Perhaps he should have just… asked you in the first place. He should have trusted you, like a friend would.

▷ “I hated the world as I was growing up,” Volo murmurs, and why he’s telling you anything of his past, he isn’t sure. Maybe I’m a fool and I still wish to be close to you, even though I feel undeserving of such. Is this his way of apologizing to you, of trying to tell you that he still trusts you?

▷ Steadily emptying your bag of the plates, you’re quiet beside him. You let him speak of his childhood, terrible experiences you couldn’t possibly fathom as he had, and the torment that had consumed him every day before he’d determined his purpose. His resolve. Another plate is in his hand, then set alongside his collection on the altar. Why he had to see Arceus now. And another. Why he couldn’t wait any longer. Is it only one more, now?

▷ “That purpose…” Volo doesn’t know if he’s missed the last plate deliberately, his hand drifting to yours instead and remaining there. “It’s why I had almost decided to give you up. Pathetic, that my envy would know no bounds if you stood before Arceus as I had wished to, but you’ve selflessly allowed me the chance to do so, instead.”

▷ Is it selfless of me? Your heart plunges deep into icy dread. Is that how he sees it? You dare not say another thing, dare not pull your hand from his, as the plate remains forgotten between you two.

▷ He won’t concede, however, and he stares upward, at the shattered spires rending the sky. Why? Is his voice cracking, just as the crumbling pillars are? “But I won’t give up either you or my purpose. I’ve often thought it impossible to reconcile the two, but you...”

▷ Volo hasn’t turned to you, but you haven’t turned to him, either. The pair of you sit in silence, Volo seemingly unwilling to elaborate on his discovery any further, and you unwilling to press him for an answer. Maybe both of you are afraid of hearing it, even if you know what he’ll say.

▷ (“But you’ve made me think it isn’t so impossible, after all.”)

▷ The final plate now lies with the others next to Volo. You slide the Celestica Flute between his fingers, and it morphs and bends in shape, glistening azure instead of ivory white. Finally, then, you find the courage to lift your head, to see how he’s now looking at you. Ashen and beaten. Anxiety swimming behind the sheen of silver confidence that had glowed so brightly as he’d confronted you. A sense of immeasurable loss, painted over by newfound anticipation, a tide of gratitude washing in, built by torrents of desperation and addled love.

▷ Your heart aches. Why? Shouldn’t you be happy, too? You want to meet Arceus as well, and you won’t let Volo lose himself again, you know you won’t, but… there’s the doubt, once more. Should you feel hope for this cause, that you really will meet Arceus?

▷ You don’t know if the two of you will ever be the same after this. How could you be? Things have changed, even if you hadn’t wanted them to at all.

▷ Volo stands, still refusing to let go of your hand or your gaze, and you rise with him. He’s much more reassured about this endeavor than you are, but you cannot voice your reservations to him. If it’s meant to be this way, then it will be, and nothing you can do will change it.

▷ But still, he smiles at you, like you mean something more to him than you could possibly understand. “Thank you.”

▷ You shake your head. What is there to thank me for? You’re afraid that regardless of what will happen next, you are somehow the one who has broken him. You would be responsible for giving him this chance to see everything fall apart around him once more, as Arceus would fail to appear. And even if you had denied him, you would have still been responsible for crushing his dream as Arceus came to you instead of him.

▷ Volo raises the flute to his lips. You look away. He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze his palm in yours.

▷ The first note sounds in the air, eerie and ethereal. You shut your eyes. Nothing will be the same, will it?

[lex-the-flex]

Better in Yellow

WorstLogan! Howlett x reader

Summary: Returning from a taxing mission, Logan is ready to relax with you, but first, you’ve got to see your man in the iconic yellow suit.

Word Count: 703

Warning(s): None! Just pure fluff and flirting!

A/N: Hello all, I'm back after a short break! I've been thinking about this idea for the past couple of days and I need more Logan fluff in my life. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

The fresh scent of lemons and sugar overtake the large gardens attached to the vine-covered brick mansion. Rays of sunlight stretch through the tall trees, allowing every square inch of the green nature to feel alive.

Lightly scrubbing a large batch of lemons in a stone sink built into the wall, the cold water feels refreshing on your hands. Gently wiping the thin layer of sweat off your face, you quietly hum to yourself.

“I found some wild lavender growing in the far corner.” Rogue announces to you.

Turning around from the stone sink, a bright smile overtakes your lips.

“I didn’t even know we had that here. I wonder how many other herbs Storm and Scott have locked away in a cabinet somewhere.” You reply.

Quickly drying off the fruit, you return to the picnic table where Rogue has occupied herself with cleaning and cutting the lavender. Carefully peeling and chopping the fresh lemons, the faint sound of the Blackbird fills the air, signaling that the crew were home. Bouncing on her toes, you can tell how eager Rogue is to see Bobby, so you give her a reassuring nod.

Bolting from her spot at the table, runs through the courtyard and in between the perfectly trimmed hedges. Smiling after her, you happily return to your task.

"I see you found my secret stash." Scott teases.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you can't help but laugh.

"Oh come on! It's not like you were using it anyway. But you can thank Rouge for finding it. She's got quite the eye." You reply.

Adding some ingredients to the glass pitcher, Rogue returns with Bobby and the rest of the gang.

"Speaking of having an eye, maybe don't mention the new uniforms to your beloved Wolverine. It was like pulling teeth with him just to wear these damn things. He's still a little sensitive." Scott explains, grabbing a glass.

"Who's still a little sensitive?" Storm asks, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh you know, the moody and broody Logan over there. Besides, the mission was a little rough." Jean teases, blindly aiming her thumb behind her.

"Or rather: Logan was a little rough." Scott interjects.

"Guys, you all look absolutely amazing. Regardless of how eye-catching the suits are, they still prove who we are." You state.

Pouring everyone a glass of the lemonade, the crew slowly depart from the picnic table, and you sit on the wooden surface. In the meantime, Logan slowly and surely makes his way over to you.

"Heya darlin'." Logan says.

Joining you at the table, he leans against the edge, and finally focuses on you. Taking in his tired features, the sight of Logan's light hazel eyes bring a sense of peace to your chest.

"Hi, Lo." You reply.

Silently smiling at you, Logan leans toward you, pressing a loving kiss to your lips.

"I've missed you, bub. I wish you were on the mission with you. We really could've used you. Besides, these suits didn't help either. They already need to be repaired." Logan admits.

Briefly turning around, Logan lets you examine a few slashes and dents caused by bullet holes. Running your fingers over the ridges in the damaged fabric, Logan turns back around to face you.

Carefully placing his hands on either side of your hips, you calmly stroke his cheeks. Feeling a little pit of disappointment rise in the pit of his stomach, Logan tries to open his mouth to speak his mind, but you place a finger on his lips.

"I know what you're going to say and you don't need too. While the mission didn't go the way you wanted, at least you all tried. You tried, Logan. And that's what matters. Even if yellow might secretly be your color and you look pretty damn sexy in it." You clarify, not letting go of Logan.

Earning a rare full smile from Logan, he kindly laughs at your joke. Suddenly, the heavy weight of the mission gradually leaves Logan's chest just as he leans his forehead against your own. Embracing the moment, a great wave of tranquility consumes Logan in the best way possible, as long as you are by his side.

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@chronicallybubbly

@dontfeedthebigbadwolf

@the-resident-vampire

@ovaryacted

@misssarcasmos-blog

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

@the-moth-archives

@stilllivindue2spite

@wolviesgal

[auroralwriting]

Hi love! I’d like to request a mob!bucky fic where he is the man that runs New York and the reader is his wife who convinces him to let her start opening hospitals and homes for people in need etc. one of his rivals tries to take her while at a charity thing and calls Bucky weak and losing his touch so he literally destroys him to protect his woman.

I understand if you are too busy but would love ya forever if you could write what has been in my head!

guard dog

mob!bucky barnes x wife!reader

bucky doesn't take too kindly to people hurting his wife.

word count: 1.7k | warnings: violence, cursing, bucky having a sweet spot for his doll ♡

i wrote this one so fast. thank you for this amazing request!! i hope i did your vision justice!

Everyone knew of Mr. James Barnes. He practically ran New York with every politician pressed under his palm, along with every rich business man and woman wrapped around his little finger.

The one thing you needed to understand about James, Bucky, as his wife called him, was that you were never to be messed with.

To Bucky, you were the epitome of innocence. No one was allowed to lay a finger on you or say anything that could even potentially upset you. You were his world, and he made sure it was protected.

Of course, he was absolutely right. You were truly an angel on earth, the truest definition of kind. Little did everyone know, while they were wrapped around Bucky's finger, he was wrapped around yours.

"Bucky, you cannot kill someone on a Sunday," You'd gripe. "Sunday's are holy days, and the days I make my cannoli. You don't want cannoli?" Bucky would give in, rescheduling to fit your needs. "And see if that guy wants a cannoli, too. If I were gonna die, I'd sure as hell want a nice, homemade cannoli."

You practically controlled his every little move. You kept Bucky somewhat grounded for a mobster. You also made sure to keep him from disappearing off the face of the earth.

"Hun, you mom's coming over for dinner tomorrow- No, I don't want to hear it! Anyone who had the guts to raise you and not lose their mind deserves a nice, home cooked meal with her family. Dinner, six o'clock, be there."

Your latest topic, though, was helping people. You didn't give too much mind to the people Bucky worked with, but your mind was set on the homeless. Some news report on CNN had utterly convinced you that you needed to be the change in the world.

"Buck, please!" You begged, latching your hands onto your husbands arm. "This is my calling!"

A small grin formed on Bucky's face, "I thought your calling was to foster little orphans. Or was it to start an animal rescue. Oh, maybe-"

"James, I'm serious!" Use of Bucky's real name was a sign you wanted him to take you seriously. "Please, I just want to help the innocent people out there who don't have anything or anyone."

With your puppy dog eyes gleaming at him, Bucky knew he couldn't say no. "Alright, alright. But I get to choose the place since I'm buying."

A large smile erupted on your face as you leaped to hug Bucky. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, baby!"

Bucky's wide palms rubbed your back softly as he kissed your head. "Anything for my precious world."

And so, the hunt for the perfect shelter was in place. Immediately, you called some friends to bounce ideas back and forth off them. Eventually, you decided on the name Feast. Food, emergency aid, shelter, and training. It was everything anyone could ever need. It was perfection.

Even Bucky had to agree, it sounded pretty solid. He was amused at the acronym, enjoying the excitement your project gave you.

After a few months, Feast was nearly up and running. To gather attention, you decided to host a gala. Bucky helped you invite anyone and everyone important. You needed to get Feast's name out there, and the big people were who would do it. Secretly, Bucky only agreed because he knew he could.. convince the ones who denied to lend a hand.

The night of the gala approached. You sat with Natasha, as she finished putting on her makeup. "Natty, you look so pretty already."

"Yeah, but you know Steve likes the shimmer. I just want to add a little bit more," Natasha replied, referring to her husband, aka Bucky's best friend. It helped a lot that your best friend was married to Bucky's best friend. Natasha and you did almost everything together.

"Steve would like you if you wore a cardboard box," You groaned. "Come on, we're going to be late!"

Natasha laughed as she stood up, "Alright, alright! You, Mrs. Barnes, are going to have a wonderful outcome I hear."

Your heart leaped at her words. "Really?"

"Yeah, I heard anyone's who's anyone is coming." You squealed at Natasha's words and lead her down to the limo where Bucky and Steve were waiting.

The moment Bucky laid eyes on you, he felt like he was falling in love all over again. "Doll," He breathed out, holding your waist carefully with both hands. "You're an angel,"

You blushed at his words, "You always know just what to say to me,"

"That's why you married me," Bucky teased, knowing all too well there were too many reasons to name as to why you married him. He still felt so lucky.

"You both look amazing," Steve complimented. "But if we don't get going soon, we'll be late."

Quickly, the four of you shimmed into the limo, having some champagne and listening to soft music while you made your way to the gala. You'd left all the interior planning up to Natasha, who's taste was the best in all of New York. You trusted her with your life. After making your way into the hall, it was solidified once more that Natasha was incredible.

The hall was beaming with gold and silver, a soft jazz band playing and a bustling bar full of the most appealing looking drinks you'd seen in a long time. You gave Natasha a thankful look as Bucky began to softly pull you away. He'd spotted the Mayor, and he was itching to make conversation.

It was probably two hours of chit chat later and you found your feet aching from your insanely high heels. You leaned up to Bucky's ear, "Hun, I'm going to go grab a drink. Want anything?"

"Rum?" Bucky muttered back as you gave an eager smile.

You sat at the bar, ordering yours and Bucky's drink. After a moment or so, you noticed the presence of someone in the seat beside you who wasn't there previously.

"Mrs. Barnes," You looked over to see Brock Rumlow. He, too, was a mobster. However, he wasn't one Bucky or Steve were particularly fond of. You didn't even know he was invited tonight. "What a lovely event this is."

"Oh, Mr. Rumlow," You said with surprise laced in your voice. "Thank you, it took a lot of preparation."

"I'm just surprised," Rumlow hummed. "Such a.. charitable thing your husband is endorsing."

You shook your head, "It was all my idea."

"Of course it was," Rumlow bitterly responded. "Barnes' pretty little play thing wanted a new passion project to occupy herself. How expected."

You felt your heart pang at his words. "Oh," You stuttered, losing any sense of confidence.

"I got you at a loss for words?" Rumlow's voice was low as he began to lean over your figure. It felt daunting rather than sultry. It felt dangerous.

"Rumlow, please back up a little bit," You pleaded as Rumlow's smirk grew. "I don't have any space."

"That's the point, baby girl." He continued to prowl over you like a hungry beast, ready to pounce on its prey. For a moment, you felt overcome with fear. The way Rumlow eyed you made you wish you had worn a more conservative dress.

Before you could blink, Rumlow was pushed back harshly. It caused you to jump up and into someones arms. You didn't even need to question who it was; you knew Bucky's touch anywhere.

"What the fuck were you doing with my girl?" Bucky growled as Rumlow shook himself out of shock.

"Just making conversation," Rumlow dryly responded. "She's a joy to talk to."

Bucky scoffed, "It looked like you were about to drag her out of here."

"And so what if I was?" Rumlow challenged. "What would you do, huh, Barnes? You've gone weak, she's making you lose your touch. You're just her silly little guard dog. No one's scared of you when everyone knows that you'd never do anything to upset your precious-"

Before Rumlow could even finish his sentence, Bucky was on top of him, punches pushing his head back and forth, left and right. The sickening sounds of skin against skin was too much for you to bare, but luckily, Steve had come right on time. He was quick to pull you behind him where Natasha was waiting to hold you in her arms.

"Don't you dare call me fuckin' weak!" Bucky yelled. All eyes were on the scene unfolding.

The crack of Rumlow's jaw was not to be missed as Bucky's fist collided with it so hard you could've sworn Bucky broke some of his teeth. "You think you can come here to my wife's gala and try me?"

You wanted to stop Bucky, but you could tell that with his anger, thee was no stopping him until he was done. More sounds of cracking, Rumlow's howls of pain, and the blow's of Bucky's beatings were all that echoed in the hall.

After a few minutes, Bucky slowly stopped, panting as he leaned over Rumlow breathlessly. It was then you stepped in, running behind Bucky and putting your hands on his shoulders. "Buck, c'mon. Let me get you cleaned up." Blood was splattered on Bucky's face, his fists drenched in it. You nodded to Steve who, once Bucky was standing, picked Rumlow over his shoulder and took him out of the building. Natasha waved the band who began playing, and everyone fell back into conversation almost as if nothing happened.

Bucky and you were silent as the bartender handed you some towels to clean Bucky up. "Did you see any of that?" Bucky asked softly, his tone much different than a few minutes beforehand.

"Steve pulled me behind him," You answered, wiping off Bucky's knuckles. They were already bruising due to the beatings on them.

"Good man," He nodded, knowing that he would have done the same for Natasha. They protected each other's girls, always. "I'm sorry this happened tonight. I didn't mean to ruin the gala."

You chuckled, forcing Bucky to look up and around. "Look, nothing's ruined. You don't think these people are used to this stuff?"

Bucky gave a soft smile in return as his fingers fell across your cheek, softly rubbing it. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Endlessly protect and love me, to start." You cheekily replied.

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, kissing you softly. "Always." He added as he pulled away. "Now, come on. I don't think we spoke to the Stark's yet."

[dyaz-stories]

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman || Park Chan-Young x f!Reader

summary: Yeong-Su breaks a window at the stadium, and Chan-Young takes the blame for it, resulting in severe consequences. Fortunately, you're here to pick up the pieces afterwards.

word count: 3.1k

warnings & tags: spoilers for season 2 of sweet home, violence, injuries, soldiers being assholes, coarse language, making out, the pronoun "she" is used in reference to the reader

A/N: couldn't find gifs for chan-young so I made this one, but I'm by no means a gif maker, so, yeah. Also, I don't know anything about baseball, so please pretend this makes sense if you know better. I'm not sure which team Chan-Young was supposed to be on, so I picked the Doosan Bears because Sweet Home takes place in Seoul. Finally, it's my first time writing for him, so I hope you'll enjoy my take on this character!

It’s another day at the stadium, which means it’s another day of boredom.

Oh, there are things to do around here, sure. If you don’t mind being ordered around by soldiers who stand behind you with a scowl on their face and remind you that the only reason you’re even there is because of their good will, you’ll find a job to do. Cleaning a corner of the stadium, probably, in hopes that someone will be able to live there — as if there were enough mattresses — or doing the inventory, again, while looking the other way when rations mysteriously go missing and everyone knows who’s doing the taking.

Thing is, you’ve never been one to grovel. In fact, back in the Before days, you were the one giving the orders. Youngest assistant coach for the Doosan bears, the Seoul baseball team, you were in line to become the youngest coach in the history of the country. And, yeah, you weren’t completely in charge, but you were trusted. You had responsibilities. People knew to take you seriously.

You’ve had ideas for how to run this place more efficiently, to avoid making the civilians feel like they’re second-rate citizens, but it’s been made clear to you that you weren’t welcome to make suggestions. So you haven’t bothered, lately, but you also won’t play in that stupid game, where people get to change the rules without telling you.

It means that you do a lot of aimless walking around in the stadium. Chief Ji implicitly lets you roam around, a testament to the fact that you knew each other well back in the days, when you used to bring her coffee before big games, but you mostly try to make yourself useful in the way soldiers haven’t bothered accounting for.

A lot of that means keeping an eye on kids that are left to themselves otherwise. Their parents are busy, and it’s not like there’s much to do for them, here, so you try to keep them entertained. Unfortunately, you’re no teacher, meaning that it’s a lot of physical activities, wherever you find enough place. Other days, people who are teachers take over for you. That is the case today, meaning you’d have the day ‘off’, if it weren’t for Yeong-Su not showing up for class.

You don’t personally think he should have to attend class. You know how mean the other kids can be to him, and though the teachers don’t do much in the name of keeping the peace, you don’t let that fly when you’re in charge. Which is probably why the kid never misses your classes, a small pride that you keep well tucked in your heart.

Still, the teachers insist that you make sure he’s okay, so you agree to go try and find him. He knows the stadium well, meaning it will be no easy task.

You end up finding him throwing a ball against a wall. It looks like he’s practicing his aim, you think when you notice that he’s drawn a square on it. You’re about to approach him, maybe give him a few pointers, when a particularly hard throw has the ball bouncing too high and it crashes through a window, finishing outside of the stadium.

You freeze. Monsters don’t approach the stadium much — it’s been months since there’s been a case of that happening.

But the mere thought of there being something open here still has your heart pounding with fear. It’s only a few seconds before you compose yourself, but that’s long enough for someone to come running. You rush towards Yeong-Su, prepared to fiercely defend him if you need to.

It’s Chan-Young, and you relax, even if your heart is now pounding for a whole other reason.

“What happened here?” he asks.

He may have been running with his whole equipment, but he shows no sign of being out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-Su mumbles. He’s hard to handle, especially these days, but he clearly respects Chan-Young a lot. “I didn’t mean to— I was just practicing and—"

Oh gosh, you realize, kid was practicing pitching, and it’s not lost on you that that’s the position Chan-Young mainly played as.

“…and now I’ve lost my ball,” Yeong-Su sniffs.

He’s trying to hold back tears, and it tears a little piece of your heart away. You know that Yeong-Su had found a ball autographed by Chan-Young, know that it’s one of his most prized possessions. It’s no surprise that Yeong-Su can’t stand the thought of losing anything more than what he already has.

Chan-Young glances at you, still standing a few steps behind Yeong-Su.

“He didn’t mean to,” you say. “I’ll help you fix the window.” Eun-Yu probably won’t mind giving you a hand, too.

Chan-Young nods, and you watch as he puts a knee to the floor, so he’s at eye-level with Yeong-Su. If he was any other soldier, you’d be more cautious, but you know him. Worked with him, when he was on your team, lost him when he enlisted, and now you’re in this strange limbo, where he doesn’t seem to know how to interact with you, even though there is this obvious familiarity between the two of you, every time you do speak.

“You need to be more careful,” he tells Yeong-Su, putting on his Serious voice. “If a monster heard that and came in, it could be very dangerous for everyone. And if you’re in front of the window when it happens, it would attack you first. So don’t let that happen again, okay?”

Then he gives Yeong-Su a small, comforting smile.

“If you want to practice again, come ask me next time, okay?” He glances up at you, and there’s such softness in his eyes when he does. “Or ask the coach. She knows her stuff.”

You’d never become coach, not officially, but his use of the word makes your heart swell.

“Okay,” Yeong-Su mumbles, staring down at his feet.

For a moment, it looks like everything will resolve itself just like that, and you’re already putting a hand on Yeong-Su’s shoulders to pull him away with you, when you hear the familiar stomping of military boots coming towards you.

Chan-Young’s expression changes immediately.

“Go,” he orders.

“But…”

He spins around to grab your shoulders, lowering himself to look straight into your eyes.

“Go,” he repeats. “Please.”

There’s such urgency in his voice that you can’t deny him, even if you’re not sure what is going on exactly. You grab Yeong-Su’s hand and pull him with you until you’re both behind a corner, just in time. You keep an eye on the scene, confused. The soldiers behave like assholes, you know that, but surely—

“What happened here?” the Sergeant bellows in Chan-Young’s face. “You’re lucky it was us, who were standing outside the window, and not something else! You better have an explanation, soldier.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chan-Young says, shoulders straight, from what you can see. “I was just practicing and—”

Before you can wonder why he’d lie, the punch catches him in the stomach, and he doubles over in pain. You catch yourself before you can gasp out loud, and instinctively cover Yeong-Su’s mouth, which is probably a smart move, because he starts thrashing to run towards Chan-Young. You don’t blame him, but you also absolutely cannot let him do that, not right now.

“Yeong-Su,” you whisper, mimicking Chan-Young’s attitude with you just a minute ago. “You need to go back to Ms. Cha. Okay?”

“But they’re…”

You wince, because they’re still berating Chan-Young, and one of them has just given him a hard kick to the ribs. All the more reason for you to intervene.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise, but I can’t do that if you’re here. So go back to her, and I’ll come see you when everything is okay again, alright?”

He sniffs, rubs his eyes to hide the tears, then turns around and runs. At least he’s got a good survival instinct, you think, even if it hurts to remember where it comes from. The second you’re sure he’s not coming back, it’s your turn to run, but towards the soldiers this time, with a confidence that you now worry is wholly unwarranted.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s enough?” you interject, maneuvering so you can get between them and Chan-Young.

There’s a scoff and they roll their eyes. One of them puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes, but you barely take a step back. You’re used to men trying to intimidate you.

“I thought we’d made it clear that your opinions weren’t welcome,” Seo-Jin snaps at you, getting too close to your face for comfort — like that would make you budge.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you beat up someone because he broke a fucking window, when if you’d gotten to work, that hole would be closed by now,” you reply on the same tone.

He opens his mouth to yell at you once more, a vein bulging on his forehead, when Chan-Young comes to stand in front of you. He’s barely just gotten on his feet, has one hand pressed against his rib cage, and still, he’s already coming to stop you from taking any risk. You want to scream at him and hug him all at the same time.

“Please, sir, she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Neither does he!

“That’s enough, Seo-Jin,” sergeant Kim finally intervenes, and the man immediately takes a step back. “Don’t let it happen again,” he tells Chan-Young. “And fix the hole,” he tells you, as an afterthought, before leaving and taking his team with him.

Your blood is boiling. He might try to be the voice of reason now, but you saw him doing nothing while his men got blood on their hands so he wouldn’t have to.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because next to you, Chan-Young has slowly let himself slide to the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask, panicked, while he grimaces and leans against the wall.

“I’m fine,” he says, an obvious lie. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You took responsibility for something you had nothing to do with, but I’m the one who shouldn’t have said anything?”

He sighs, shakes his head.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says. He looks at you with warm eyes, and you feel your breath catching in your throat.

There’s something about Chan-Young, there always has been. You always have to remind yourself that he’s nice to everyone, because he’s such a kind person. Even that didn’t stop you from falling for him — and it’s the second time that it happens, damn him.

“I’ll go get medical supplies,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here.”

“There’s no need to—”

“Please, do you want to die from an infection after surviving all these monsters? Stay. Here.”

You ignore any further protests as you rush to get the supplies.

It doesn’t take you long. Chief Ji provides you with what you need without questions, and apologizes for not being able to give you painkillers — they’re reserved for emergencies, she explains. You know the other supplies are, too, but you understand her reasoning, and just thank her with a quick nod and a promise to help out for the next few shifts outside the stadium, if she needs it.

When you come back, Chan-Young’s moved to sit on one of the boxes that are always laying around in here, and you grab another one to sit across from him.

“Open your jacket,” you say as you take the disinfectant.

“I— I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with an eyeroll, because the guys on the team weren’t exactly shy about taking their shirt off in front of you and he should remember that.

He clears his throat and glances away, and you notice his ears turning red.

“Um, right. Yeah. Just a second.”

Under the jacket, he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, and he lifts it up so you can see for yourself.

And it’s not looking good. The area is red and swollen already, and you worry it will be worse soon. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do about that, so you disinfect the scratches caused by the boots, and gesture for him to put it back down. You’d normally advise to put something cold on it, to calm the swelling, but that’s not really an option here, not when the little electricity you have is mostly used to keep the lights on.

“Try not to move around too much, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he says with a brief laugh. It’s a silly recommendation, and you both know it, but you still felt the need to say something.

“Now give me your hand, I’ll see what I can do.”

He does, and you carefully turn it to check the palm. You’re not sure if he hurt himself when he fell earlier, or if it’s just that there’s constantly manual work to be done and it’s hard not to injure your hand. Either way, you start cleaning it and disinfecting it as well.

“Do you think they would have been as hard on a kid?” you ask.

“No!” he protests immediately, maybe a tad too strongly. “They’re humans. I’m sure they wouldn’t have—” He interrupts himself, and you suspect that he knows they still could have hit him, a thought that makes your stomach turn. “But… Yeong-Su’s had a hard enough life as it is. People here are not… kind to him.”

“I’m not blaming you, especially after that,” you sigh, “I just— You do realize that it’s not your responsibility, right? I’d have helped the kid, and it could have ended better than…”

You gesture vaguely at him, and he closes his eyes for a second. He closes his fingers over yours where you’re holding his hand, rubs his thumb over your skin, which sends a wave of heat through your body. It only lasts a moment, though, before he catches himself and lets go.

“I’m— I was in charge, when his sister— I was supposed to be helping them. And I failed him.”

“What?” Ms. Cha told you that story, in hushed whispers, to explain why Yeong-Su was such a complicated child these days. It had been clear that there was nothing Chan-Young could have done. “You can’t blame yourself for someone turning into a monster and going on a rampage.”

“It happened on my watch,” he insists. “If I’d been more careful— If I hadn’t left the bus—”

You stop yourself to look at him straight in the eye. He’s close, but you don’t feel uncomfortable, not with him.

“That could have happened to anyone. You couldn’t have planned for it.” He exhales, long and slow.

“Thank you for saying that,” he says, but you can tell that your words haven’t sunk in. It breaks your heart, and yet you have no idea what more you can say. After all, you weren’t there. It makes sense that he wouldn’t believe you.

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in the line of danger to—” to what, anyway? Expiate his sins? What does he have to prove? Does he have a death wish or something? “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger when you don’t have to.”

“Better me than Yeong-Su,” he insists. “He’s just a kid, and he has his mom — well, Ms. Cha. And he has you.” You set the disinfectant back down, hands almost trembling as you realize where he’s going with this. “Better me than him,” he just concludes sadly.

“Park Chan-Young,” you say, “you don’t seriously think that, right?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he replies.

“He has a family here. I— don’t really have anyone—”

You’re not sure what goes through your head when you put your hand on his cheek and kiss him. If you had to rationalize it — which you’re not really in any position to do when it happens — you’d say that you just wanted to prove him how wrong he was. Truth is, though, that you also couldn’t bear the idea that you were letting him believe that when it was so entirely untrue.

His lips are warm against yours, and you think you feel him leaning into you, but you pull away too soon to know.

“There,” you say as you gather your things. “Now you know you do have someone, so don’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily, alright?”

Then you’re on your feet, hell-bent on fleeing the scene.

Of course, Chan-Young catches up with you in an instant. He grabs your wrist, and pulls you back against him. His eyes are wide as he searches yours.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

“Mean what?” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re… not sure where he is going with this.

“It wasn’t pity, right? You— I have you?”

The words almost send a shiver down your spine.

“Of course you do. I don’t exactly go around kissing people—”

Next thing you know, his hands are cupping your face and his mouth is on yours. He kisses you feverishly, like he desperately needs you to prove your words to him. You kiss back without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his neck. It isn’t long before your back hits the wall and you let out a brief groan.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling away from you to check on you. “Are you—”

You don’t let him finish, pulling him back down against you. His hands move down to your waist, one of them slipping under your t-shirt to feel your bare skin. He’s kissing you slower now, more sensual, and he abandons your mouth to kiss down your jaw, then your neck, before he comes back to your lips.

“I shouldn’t—” he mumbles against you. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Everyone’s doing it,” you reply, but it doesn’t surprise you when he tears himself away from you. He’s a sight to behold, flushed and out of breath — and is it odd that you enjoy seeing him panting from kissing you when you know he can run for hours without struggling? He’s always been one to stick to the rules closely. It says a lot that he broke one right now, but you won’t push him any further, not until he’s ready.

You take a step back towards him, take his hand in yours, and press your lips to his cheek for one last, soft kiss.

“Don’t forget now,” you say. “You have me. Don’t risk your life without thinking.”

He doesn’t kiss you again, but he leans in to press his forehead against yours, squeezing your hand in his.

“I have you,” he repeats, as if to convince himself. “I have you.”

I hope you liked it! as always, if you did, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought! feedback is really motivating and is what keep us authors going, so leaving a comment or sending an ask or anything really helps to keep me writing!

more writing for sweet home

[yuri-is-online]

The Tower Stairs: Rollo Flamme

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City." The words should not be bouncing around in your brain like a screensaver, hitting on the edges left by overblot after overblot. You wish Vil was here to remind you that not everyone who hurt you had been so callous in the aftermath.

But he's not. The only one here who is willing to point out the wrongs is Rollo. Are you wrong for being tempted to let him take advantage of that?

notes: This is fucking 10,225 words and only lightly proofread, sorry. they/them used for Yuu, SPOILERS FOR ALL OF GLORIOUS MASQUERADE, light references to events surrounding overblots, non-consensual drugging and possible Stockholm syndrome, Yuu feels isolated and Rollo has an idea just hear him out. Lots of toxicity all around please be advised This is technically part of a series, the first part features Azul. If you like those consider checking out my masterlist.

Two sentences.

Two students will be sent as attendants to the invited mages.  One monster and one magicless human, approximate measurements attached per your request.

Two sentences barely acknowledging your existence and that was it; the foolish mage in charge of Night Raven hadn't even thought to include a name or photograph (the monster got the same treatment but he could not really bring himself to care as much about that) and he hadn't even made notes about food preferences or allergies.  The attached note was a post-it scrawled in the most haphazard and uncaring handwriting that he needs to take a brief moment to breathe, turning away from his desk to throw another log on the fire and breath in the soothing scent of the smoke.  He doesn't even know what their favorite color is, those poor fools will have to make a guess while they obsess over what costume to throw at them. 

Costume.  His eyebrows twitch as he brings the handkerchief to his nose, the smoke no longer enough to distract from his disgust.  Breathe in, the gentle aroma of rosemary and lavender brings clarity though solace remains tentatively hanging in the bell tower along with all of his hopes, breathe out.  He dares not risk ruining the foolish surprise by asking, but he makes sure to take a nice sheet of paper and properly write out the notes on their measurements neatly, tacking it to the top of the stack where it belongs.  This festival was always meant to be for the virtuous, and while he may not know them, what he has seen of the others guarantee them to be the best of the lot.  The bell dutifully rings out the evening toll and Rollo takes one last look at those two sentences.  He pities you; that's the explanation he reaches for the pain searing in his chest.

~~~~

Halloween feels more like Christmas with how big of a deal all your friends are making of it, and you really lack the words to explain how strange that makes you feel.  It's not a bad sort of strange you suppose as you twirl a little of the thickly embroidered fabric in between your fingers.  Festivities bring good food, an excuse to avoid classwork, and a way to guise showing affection under holiday obligation; it's just a bit odd to see it cloaked in orange, blacks, and pumpkin carvings and not pine needles and nutmeg.  But all of these thoughts are irrelevant, meant to try and distract you from the waiting crowd outside and the social you've been pawned off on.  You take a deep breath, trying to focus on how excited Grim sounds and how cute you know he will look to avoid the terror of being seen.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

Your eyes meet Rollo’s before you shamefully turn to your friends, disappointment flashing through you with just how impassive his gaze remains despite the beauty of the costume.  It’s just a stupid “crush” on a guy who if you in your right mind you would insist looked ugly.  A real choice example of “guy you didn’t know magic could invent,” 18 going on 80, someone who if you had admitted out loud to wanting to get to know better as a friend you would be judged heavily for.  And if you are being honest with yourself it isn’t even really a crush, it’s just your stupid brain firing off a bunch of dopamine at someone offering you a genuine break and some sympathy for the troubles he assumed you’d been through.  Vil remembered.  The tiny, tired voice of reason tried to do its job at the back of your skull.  It is probably very dark and lonely back there.  Maybe guys from the Shaftlands are just built different.  Even it was overworked and making concessions.

“It looks like you are wearing matching outfits.”  Deuce’s kind smile brings you out of your head and back to reality.  

“You look like you’re matching with Riddle!”  You say and smile wide when both Deuce and Riddle puff up in pride.

“We both look like proper card soldiers,” Riddle actually bows to the Vice-President, who looks really happy to receive the praise “you must have really put a lot of thought into these.”  

“Glad you noticed!”  You see Rollo pull out that strange handkerchief and inhale as his Vice-President happily chirps away.  “Since your Headmage noted your dormitories we tried to include inspiration from the Great Seven in the costume themes!  The costumes are supposed to respect tradition, and your school has some too, we figured ‘why not combine them?’”  

“Where’d mine come from then?”  Grim doesn’t seem too fussed even though he asks, he must  really like his outfit.  “Yuu and I are the only ones who care about our dorm.”

“Yes the… note provided for you was most inadequate.”  Rollo is technically addressing the crowd, but his gaze remains firmly on you.  His eyes are beautiful, green and blue swirling in what you delusionally swear is a gentle dark gray frame that will dull and snap back to firm disinterest once he returns to your seniors.  “As such I suggested the capes but these two came up with the rest.”

“We went with purple and black since those are both NRC and NBC colors.”  The VP gives you what should be a confident thumbs up that you barely pay attention to, still caught up in the intensity of Rollo’s gaze.  

“Thank you.”  You barely manage to break away from it and miss the way Rollo seems to somehow stand taller, even if he does not say-

“You’re welcome!” The vice-president and aide continue to glow with everyone’s praise.  “We really hoped you would like them.”  

You can barely hear their words over your focus on him.  If he feels the weight of your gaze he doesn't flinch, nor does he acknowledge it, leaving Trein’s voice to cut through your stupor, startling you with an expectation of disappointment or trouble.  But it isn’t there, he simply seems concerned, and thankfully not with you.  You cannot say the same of your classmates, but then again you had also forgotten the headache you got listening to them argue over their fieldwork group names.  Seriously, how old were Azul and Idia again?  And you aren’t going to think about Malleus right now, the ibuprofen Trey had helped you pack was with your luggage not the pockets of your costume. 

“What will Yuu be doing?”  Rollo is as impassive as ever, but he once again looks at you as he asks, as if he expects you to be a part of the conversation.  How cute.

“Yuu and Grim will be with me.”  Trein turns to scold your friends and though you expect Rollo to follow, or maybe excuse himself to his duties he does not.

“Are you alright with this arrangement?”  He asks.

“Oh we discussed it before we got here.”  You rush to pacify, which startles Rollo more than soothes him.  “As long as Grim gets to eat a bunch of stuff we’ll be fine.”  If anything it will probably keep him distracted from causing trouble to keep bouncing back and forth between the groups, but you don’t say that outloud. 

“Yeah!”  Grim cheers, excited by the mention of his name if nothing else.  “This place has got all sorts of great food right?! Riddle was tellin me all about it.” Rollo seems displeased, the handkerchief comes out from his pocket but he doesn’t hold it up to his face yet, choosing instead to focus on your eyes.

“I wasn’t asking about Grim.”  Your little friend begins to make noises of protest, but they quiet as he looks back and forth between you both.  But if Rollo has more to say he is forced to keep it to himself.

“Human!”  Sebek’s shout demands your attention and you see Rollo finally lift his arm to take the deepest breath yet into his handkerchief.  “You had better not plan on keeping Lord Malleus waiting!  Have you already forgotten he specifically requested you accompany his group?!?!”  You haven’t, but you know Sebek won’t hear that.  

“Sorry, duty calls!” You give your best elegant bow and are rewarded with a genuine smile.

“Yes, for both of us.”  He watches, with a strange look in his eyes as you flicker out of his view like a wisp of smoke.

~~~~ “I was worried when Sebek started arguing and insisting that he join Malleus’s group… But honestly, I’m glad he has a proper guard.”  Jamil does seem significantly less stressed than he usually does, which in turn relaxes you.

“Of course, Malleus’s safety will always be my first priority!”  Sebek is all smiles and pride as the conversation continues towards what direction to start your tour, you find your mind wanting to join in the conversation but finding yourself unable to really contribute.  Grim is similarly distressed.

“I thought this was Group 1,” he wisely chooses to whine to you and not Trien, “not Group BORING.”

“We’ve got to respect their wishes.”  You say, wishing only slightly he wasn’t wearing such a dapper hat.  You miss scratching his ears.  “Besides, historic spots make for great tourist destinations.  You are worried you won’t get any food, right?  I won’t let that happen.”

“Most of the places I know of aren’t on tourist maps.”  Trien corrects gently, but his small smile lets you know he does not mean to come off as reprimanding.  “But Yuu is correct, Grim, there will be plenty of places to feed you as we check on the other groups.”

“Well then what are we waitin’ around for!  Let’s get cracking!”  Grim’s little shout and face is so deathly serious you can’t help but snap a brief picture on your phone, as you walk slowly between Riddle and Jamil.

“So,”  a relaxed Jamil might be a rare sight, but this teasing look is not “what did President Rollo want to talk to our little attendant about?”

“I was wondering that as well.”  Riddle asks much more earnestly, which gets the squirming reaction from you Jamil had been trying to provoke.  “He wasn’t being rude was he?  An insult to one NRC student is a slight to our whole school.”

“Oh I’m sure he was very personal.”  Laughs Jamil and you try to pass off your embarrassment with a cough.

“He just wanted to know what group Grim and I were going with.”  It has got to be enough of the truth to get Jamil to drop it, but as you turn yourself back towards Trien you are surprised to find him smirking.

“Yes, Mr. Flamm was very concerned with knowing your whereabouts.”  He has the decency to shoot Jamil a stern glance when he cackles, but the teasing point has still been made.  You have been seen (for once, the tiny voice argues, when there is something to use against you.)  Thankfully Malleus and Riddle still seem blissfully unaware of what is being implied, if anything Malleus seems deeply pleased at the mention of Rollo.

“I’m glad he was willing to invite us both.”  It is hard to ignore the puff to his chest that comes with the word invitation, your tired inner voice retreats replaced with a genuine smile.

“Me too, Tsunotarou.  It’s nice to be able to take a vacation.”  You should be concerned that Trien has led you into what appears to be a sewer alley, but the soothing melody of the river to your left drowns out all worries and Sebek’s misery at being the sole mage to have done zero research.  Well maybe not the sole mage, just the only one without a collar.

“Hey Yuu,” Grim whispers, “did ya think at all about what Rollo said earlier?”

“About relaxing?”  Please, don’t let Grim get in on teasing you too.  You don’t want to live in a world where he is more socially conscious than Riddle.

“No!  Well kinda.  I mean about what ya wanted to do.”  Grim does occasionally have serious thoughts.  “N-not that I really care or anythin, just y’know.”  Not that he ever outright admits to thinking them.  This one has him so embarrassed he starts yelling at Sebek to give up on thinking before he can hear your answer, giving you time to actually think on one.

It is a relatively easy answer, the same you always have whenever you get the opportunity to leave campus.  You want to look for a way home, but how exactly do you go about doing that?  Maybe Rollo would know this water sort of reminds you of his eyes, tired, he looks so tired but when he was able to talk to you he seemed to relax and now you hate yourself even more than you had earlier.  You force yourself to stand up at a normal pace and rejoin the conversation, as if the painful spike of emotion that a new crush brings isn’t actively wrecking your heartbeat.

~~~~

Yuu.  The name of the student attendant is Yuu, Rollo was already making amendments to the lines as soon as he confirmed that, but your conversation began to muddle his own corrections with unnecessary feeling.  He doesn’t understand it, the strange pull he is feeling towards you; Rollo assumed at first was fanned by his hatred of those awful mages, the inherent desire to soothe you all feels justified but no… he knows that feeling, or at least he thinks he does.  He feels it every time he sees a magicless citizen of his city think about just how much better their life could be, but that emotion has grown dull, this desire burns him.  Even now as he tries desperately with fragrant herbs and the gentle lull of the river the intoxicating glow of relief in their eyes blazes in his soul.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

It was generic, there was so much more he should have said.  But what could he offer you?  You're not a mage, you have every right to be wary of him.  To refuse his help would be understandable.

“And I hope the rest of you will enjoy the social.”

The thought of the social finally succeeds in sobering him, he runs though his plans once more in his head as he sees the outline of one of those detestable NRC clowns looking over the various bakeries, clearly inept at choosing where to go.  And once again those thoughts flicker briefly back to you, not that Rollo trusts mages to do anything other than pursue their own interests, but he had hoped somewhat foolishly when he had read the word “attendant” that some care would be taken for your preferences and safety.  But clearly he was mistaken, and how he loathes the thought of his plans being anything less than perfect.  The handkerchief goes back into his pocket and his hand brushes up against a tiny bottle.  Dreamer’s Rest such a mundane name for a poison.  It is, no it was meant to be a precaution, but now, as he idly holds the crystal bottle up to the sunlight, a new thought takes shape in his mind.  It is magic, something he despises and believes should not exist, but if he could convince you to drink it… 

Quickly he shoves the thought and the bottle back into his robes, forcing himself towards Ashengrotto’s group hoping the new temptations will disappear.

They do not, as amusing the thought of them purchasing souvenirs is. 

“What’s so surprising about that?”  The look on Azul’s face as he speaks does suggest offense, but that he has cause to be at all sharpens Rollo’s resolve.  “That’s generally what you do with gifts, yes.  What do you two take me for?”  Exactly what he wants them too, Rollo supposes seeing how quickly Deuce and Epel jump to praise him and completely miss Azul’s muttered expectation of compensation.  The three continue to speak of utterly irrelevant topics.

“Certainly.”  He folds his hands and takes the first opportunity to excuse himself.  Azul is a merchant and these two are dumb as rocks, he has nothing to worry about here.  “I’ll take my leave then-”

“Oh before you go!”  Deuce has an infuriatingly cheerful smile on his face for someone who has just interrupted him. “I wanted to thank you.  For including Yuu I mean.”  Azul pushes his glasses up onto his face, curious, it would appear his reactions are being watched, but that this sentiment from Deuce is not unexpected.  “I was really worried you Nobel Bell guys would see them as an inconvenience or a burden since it’s supposed to be a mage’s social and all and they aren’t a mage, you have no idea how relieved I was you had costumes for them and Grim.  I was really happy they got to come!”  

“Yeah!”  Epel’s smile could be described as cute if he wasn’t such a talented mage.  “We’re going to have so much fun at the social together, I can’t wait.”

“Of course.”  Rollo smiles in spite of himself, if he was less focused on making his exit he would have realized he had been since the first mention of Yuu’s name.  “I will continue to ensure they… are allowed to relax while here.” How disappointing, Rollo thinks, that these mages see inclusion of their supposed friend to be a point in his favor.  It’s almost enough to make him laugh, but then he swears he sees your face before him, eyes agleam with wonder and suddenly words lose all meaning.  The handkerchief comes out as he makes his way back to his tasks, the sooner they are done the more of an excuse he can make to see you again.  “Now if you all will excuse me, I have to get back to checking on the other groups.”  It wouldn't do to keep his flowers waiting after all.

Azul frowns deeply for just one moment.  “Are you sure you should be thanking him?”  His face returns to stoic calculation, but he still asks.

“Why?”  Deuce is so genuinely confused it really does make Azul hurt for Riddle.

“... no reason.”  Yet anyway.”  

~~~~

For a creature so gluttonous Grim sure does love to play with his food, it would be cute to watch him catch grapes in his mouth if you weren’t walking through such a busy intersection looking for Azul’s group.  “You need to be more careful.”  You fuss, taking advantage of Trien’s pause to check his maps to gently poke Grim’s nose.  He sneezes.

“Ya don’t have ta worry so much,” he huffs as if he isn’t pleased with the attention “the Great Grim isn’t able to choke.”  

“Heh your friend doesn’t seem to think so.”  Rollo’s laugh is as smug as it is startling, you swear you jump halfway out of your skin.  He moves to follow you, a noise of startled surprise sending pinpricks up your arms in delight.

“Rollo!  Sorry I didn’t see you.”  Great now he has to think you’re stupid, of course you didn’t see him Yuu!  He clearly just got here!  “Is everything ok?  No one causing you any trouble?”  You have to bite your tongue not to add from my school because who else would be doing that.  

“Nothing’s happened you need to worry over.”  Rollo folds his hands, those water grey eyes ripple with emotion reminding you of your reflections at the riverside earlier. " I simply saw you and decided to come over and see how your tour was progressing so far.”

“It’s goin great!”  Grim hugs his bunch of grapes close to his chest.  “Yuu’s been gettin me all sorts of yummy grub.”

“... it is heartwarming to see how caring Yuu is towards you.”  His smile suggests genuine amusement, and your heart warms with pride.  “But I am curious, have you gotten to do everything you wanted to?  Is there still something you wish to see?”  Rollo says it so passively, as if it wasn't a natural question to ask.  It is, you suppose, a natural question if 

“I’m sorry?”  Rollo’s eyes haven’t once left yours, there is no mistaking he intended to speak directly to you and yet… 

“This is an experience for you too, yes?”  Rollo looks sad you think, but you try to remind your rapidly increasing heart rate that you have only just met so you have no idea if that is true.  “I have some time before I am needed, if your Professor allows it-”

“Of course I will.”  Trien’s voice causes you both to jump, free from whatever strange aura you constantly find in each other’s presence.  There is a strange glint in his eyes, almost nostalgic as he takes Grim from your arms and nods towards Rollo.  “There are a few places I can think of that might be of interest to Yuu specifically, but I’m sure you will be much more up to date with what’s practical.”  You expect him to wait, to confirm just where it is Rollo wants to take you off to but no.  If anything he practically skips away from you with pep that you swear should strain his back.

“I’m so sorry he just left like that.”  You say quietly, and to your surprise Rollo laughs.  The stern look that had been so fixed into your mind since this morning is kinder now, he actually looks like a young man now, the aura of nobility around him seeming to come more from some hidden self confidence you suppose all mages have tucked somewhere.

“There’s no need, I’m sure it would have been much more embarrassing if he stayed.”  Rollo says it so matter of factly you almost believe him.  “So just what was it you wanted to see?”

“Is there a place where-” you eagerly start before flustering with the weight of trying to explain what exactly it is you are looking for.  “Why” will be even harder, emotionally if nothing else.  “Is there any place I could do some research I guess?  Like on really obscure myths and history.”  It was clearly not the question Rollo was expecting, but he does have an answer ready.  

“There is a book store I am fond of across from the main school building, assuming you don’t mind walking back that way?”  

“Not at all.”  You remain trapped in your strange silence, though Rollo does not quite seem to mind.  He easily begins to guide you back towards the school, the tension you had previously associated with him never once returning to his face.

“Do you enjoy reading about mythology?”  He asks as soon as the crowd thins a little.

“Yes.”  Your answer is quieter than he’d like, as if you are questioning the sincerity of your own interests.  “You can tell a lot about what people value by looking at the stories they tell and besides… I just like stories.”  

“What sort?”  The question isn’t sharp, so you silently curse yourself for jumping.  “I apologize if I am coming off as needling you, that wasn't my intention.  As the president of a magic school’s student council I seldom get a chance to speak with… the more sincere members of society.  I am curious about your perspective, you could say I find it important.”

“Why?”  You don’t mean to scoff, but Rollo doesn’t seem phased.  If anything he seems oddly pleased.

“Do you think yourself unimportant?”  The stern look he gives is far less severe than what had been aimed at your classmates, but is still disarming.  “I meant what I said before.  I understand if you find it tiring to be around me as well, but I promise you need only to speak if I am exhausting you.”

“No!”  His pleased smile grows as you try desperately to center your thoughts.  “You haven’t been exhausting me at all, I just- wasn’t expecting the question.”  Rollo’s contented laugh sears you right to your soul, so beautiful and strong and so clearly meant only for you to hear.  You are spared further embarrassing thoughts as you finally reach your destination and he reaches for the shop’s door.

“After you, Yuu.”  Bless the shop bell for ringing you back to reality, and the smell of old books finally luring you away from Rollo’s grasp.

~~~~

There is a peaceful, eager joy about your expression that Rollo tries desperately to write into his memory.  This is how you should look all the time, unburdened by the weariness existing next to magic and mages that undoubtedly piles on you.  His relief flickers slightly as he wonders, unpleasantly, just what it is you think of him and his faults.  Is he truly responsible for your joy now?  And if he is… just what does he need to do to keep it?  He is suddenly heavily aware of the bottle in his pocket, and Grim’s words from earlier begin to suggest an ill formed plan that drives him to speak.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” he whispers in spite of himself, but you do not seem displeased with his interruption. 

“Idia bought me some grape juice, but other than that not really.”  And yet you have been feeding your companion like some sort of saint.  

“There’s a small cafe attached to this store…”  There is no going back if he says this, there are a million things that should be at the front of his mind but the only thing he can bring himself to worry over is what you will think of him once it is done.  “Would you like something from it?”  You pause scanning the book you are holding and reach towards your pocket, but he catches your hand as gently as he can before pulling back worried he has overstepped.  “I’ll pay for it, please don’t worry yourself.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that!”  So you squeak but your stomach seems to disagree with the strange noise it makes.

“Then don’t.”  He cannot help but smile as he says it.  Cute.  He thinks that is the word he wants to use.  You have his entire attention.  “Just tell me what you would like.”  He half expects you to continue denying yourself, but no.  You murmur a bashful request, and he promises to meet you at the front of the store once he has gotten you something.  He almost believes in his own good intentions until his hand touches the bottle in his pocket as he tries to think.  This… impulse is not his fault.  You will be in danger if he does not act, he needs to find a way to keep you safe from the downfall of those mages who surround you.

There is a selection of fruit and cheese that catches his eye, there is a small dish of honey meant to be paired with some apples.  Dreamer’s Rest has no taste, just one bite from any of these would grant you the relaxation you deserved.  This is a conscious decision he is making, if he commits there will be no way to take it back.  He can beg you to see his reason, but would you listen?  It’s insidious how little visible effect magic leaves on something, nothing looks different or dangerous, the food he is holding just looks like food.

“Have you ever heard of someone traveling between worlds before?”  Rollo should be concerned with how tuned in to your voice he is, how quickly he completes his task and takes himself, with noticeably lighter pockets, back to the front of the store and the tables set next to the front counter.

“Are you sure you don’t mean continents?”  The shopkeep seems confused, but Yuu seems strangely determined.  Desperate even.

“No, worlds.  Like different realities or dimensions.”  You try again.  “Maybe something about liminal spaces?”  That just makes them laugh.

“Oh no, if you’re interested in those sorts of things you’ll need to look at the science fiction section!  Magical travel between different ‘worlds’ is so utterly preposterous, I’m sure Monsieur Rollo will be able to explain to you why.”  You look devastated, as if what has been said is a personal slight.  He lacks the ability to describe just what it is he is feeling now, there is a wariness to how he looks over you he doesn’t like.  There is no reason to doubt your virtue, you have no magic.  So why then,would you be so interested in what would undoubtedly be such a career defining feat for any mage, why act distraught as if you are so intimately acquainted with the subject?  You cannot look at him as he gently guides you to the table, can’t speak even.  It is as if the dismissal has robbed you of your appetite.

“Technically speaking if we had proof another reality existed,” he takes care to breathe in the comforting scents of his kerchief, watching you for any sign of motive “it would not be a matter of science fiction.  As we lack that, however, most statistical models make such a thing out to be quite impossible.  Teleportation magics such as the Dark Mirror at Night Raven possess are already quite rare and subject to stringent regulation, it stands to reason the ability to travel across reality would be much more rare.”

“I see.”  You are quiet, yet unflinching under his scrutiny in a way that makes him want to scream.  There is no reason for you to be so resigned to him, it should be the other way around.  He should be afraid of your judgment, your wrath, not your rejection as you pick idly at the fruits.  “You must think I’m very silly.”  You whisper.

“I think you are not telling me something.”  He whispers as well, trying to sound sincere and sympathetic.  “That your friends and teachers did not tell me something.”  His body moves of its own accord, he stands and places his hands on your shoulders in what he hopes is a gentle manner; you look up to him with a strangely hopeful expression.  It is as if you see him as some source of light, unaware of its hellish source.  “My judgment is fair, so please, unburden yourself while you are here.”  While you can be safe in his arms.

“If I said,” your voice quivers “if I said I did have proof of a different reality.  One where magic didn’t exist.”  He inhales sharply, a new scent worming itself among his affirmations alongside the resurgence of the pain from when he first read those two accursed lines.  “If I was somehow taken from such a place, and wanted to find a way back, would you believe me?”

“Yes.”  There is disbelief in your eyes, but really how could he reach any other explanation for this grip you have on his soul?  The reasoning, as implausible as other scholars would decry it, made a degree of sense.  Why else would such a wretched institution like Night Raven allow for someone so pure to exist in their presence, to say nothing of being allowed to attend as a student?  The best solution, no matter how improbable, is the simplest one, and what a beautiful solution this admission is.

“I don’t know how I got here really, I just sort of showed up at orientation and the headmage hasn’t done mu- I mean he hasn’t really found any promising leads about how to send me back.  That was his excuse for sending me to the social.  He thought that since maybe your academy is also really old and has so many traditions that maybe one of you would know how to send me home.”  Slowly, so slowly it almost burns, Rollo moves his right hand from your arm to fetch something from his pocket.  The large ruby of his ring reflects the dull light of the lamps as he runs just the edge of his handkerchief under your eye, letting his thumb massage the tear towards it.  The comforting blend of rosemary and lavender that invades your senses explains why he keeps it so close to his nose, but those are not the scents that soothe you.  There is an undercurrent, brought by his sleeves and the way his eyes follow the curve of your cheek and stay unintentionally on your lips, of wood smoke and ink that can’t come from anyone but him, who in their right mind would burn something in a bookstore?

“You can speak poorly of him here.”  There is an undercurrent of authority to his voice that should scare you.  Rollo has always looked directly at you, that dark gray blue inviting you to bathe in his light has never once thought of you as the other.  Perhaps because he is too busy looking at your classmates like they are lesser, a thought that you should perhaps pay more mind. “No one is going to carry what you say back to them, I promise.  You poor thing…”  It is all you can do to not collapse into his arms and cry.  It should be condescending, this way he is looking at you.  “It’s cruel to keep you like this.”  Who he is speaking to you don’t know, there is an unspoken aura over you both, an aura of agreement that he could be as cruel as he likes.  Idly, as if he does not fully understand what he is doing, Rollo removes his hand shakily, returning his handkerchief to his pocket, only breaking eye contact with you to eye the abandoned apple slices on the table next to you.  “Are you still hungry?”  He is asking you a question, but it’s not the one he’s voiced.

“Yes.”  You want him to kiss you, but that doesn’t seem to be what he intends to do.  Instead he dips one of the apple slices into the honey and carefully, purposefully lifts it up to your lips.  Wordlessly, he places the slice on your tongue and continues to hold it as you bite down, watching as you chew and closing the gap as you swallow.

His kiss burns, searing you with question and confirmation that this strange attraction is as destructive as it is mutual.  “I have to take you back now.”  He breathes the words close to your lips as you breathe in the smoke of his robes, deeply trying desperately to center yourself.

Your walk back is as quick as it is silent.

~~~~

“Ahh child of man!  Good to have you back, come sit with us.”  Mallues pats the seat beside him expectantly and you gladly settle, much to the chagrin of Sebek who immediately begins howling in protest.  Grim makes similar noises when Azul suggests he sit in yours, but it has much less of an impact when he's voicing them from your lap already.  You breathe deeply, looking around at the sights and sounds of what looks to be a carnival.  Someone walks on a tightrope, there are acrobats tumbling around on the ground, and the whole thing really sparkles with wonder and excitement that feels like magic even before you see the sparks.  It is something that should excite you, but for some reason the more you try to focus on the colors, the more you try to look around the more things begin to blur together.  Perhaps it’s all the walking around you did today but you are beginning to feel extremely tired.  

“And you are all content with such trivial feats of magic?”  Malleus scoffs next to you and you frown deeply, this dance is already impressive. How could this be made better by making it louder?  Maybe he is confused because it isn’t like Briar Valley festivals.

“You could totally upgrade those.”  Snarks Idia.  Never mind, maybe your friends were just dicks.  At least you manage to get some revenge on Idia by making him dance a little with you, no matter how sluggish you feel.  Though it admittedly feels less like revenge when Idia decides to be a responsible senior and guide you back to your seat.  “Are you sure you should be standing up?”  He doesn’t even sound like he is asking the question because he wants an excuse to be anti-social, Idia looks genuinely worried.

“I’m ok, promise.”  you try to grin and bear your way through it but a quick yell for your attention from Grim and the burst of magical fireworks that follow quickly re-directs what little energy you have left.

“Grim, using magic like that in a public place is a bad idea.”  Your scolding is drowned out by other, louder scolds and a spiral into everyone setting off fireworks.  The noise and lights pound your skull with painful overstimulation.  Cautiously, Rollo moves closer to you, concern clear on his face.  

“Are you alright?”  He asks, moving to take your temperature and not finding anything wrong, the only heat you feel is running up your spine from a desperate desire for him to be closer.  You swear you hear someone, Malleus you think, calling for you to join the festivities, but the strange tiredness working its way through your limbs has reached your ears and is beginning to dull the noise around you.  Rollo does not move, he stares down at you intently watching as you dazedly try to stand.  “... Magic is such a troublesome thing, wouldn’t you agree Yuu?  I can only imagine what you have been subjected to, between being stolen from your world and being surrounded by a gaggle of rambunctious foolhardy mages.”  You want to laugh, tell him he doesn’t know the half of it, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth.  “Worry not- this state of affairs shan’t last much longer.”  Something about his voice worms its way to the back of your skull, maybe it’s the day’s exercise, maybe it’s the noise and lights overstimulating your brian, but you are finding it harder and harder to keep opening your eyes as you blink and try to focus on what Grim is telling you.  He is tugging on your cape and jumping up and down, he has something he wants to say.  He is proud of himself, he has that genuine non-smug happy smile Grim reserves only for you when he wants your praise, and you so desperately want to see what it is he wants to show you.  But you’re tired, so very very tired.  It’s so much effort to keep your eyes open.   So you stop struggling, your eyes close and you feel yourself fall, and conveniently (too conveniently Azul notes pushing his glasses against his nose) Rollo is there to catch you.  “Yuu!”  Grim’s voice finally breaks through the fog, it’s panicked and you feel some worry bubbling up in the sane part of your mind when you realize you can’t move your hand to reassure him you are ok.

Aren’t you tired?  Don’t you want to rest?  Rest here in the City of Flowers?

“Is the noise bothering you?”  Rollo asks quietly, so quietly you wonder if anyone else can hear him other than you.  “Would you like to return to the school?”

“That might be for the best.”  Trien’s hand is cool against your forehead, his voice filled with concern.  “Would you object to taking them back, Rollo?”  You feel Rollo bend to reach under your knees and lift you so high you practically feel like you are flying.  A smile flutters onto your face; his embrace is one of safety and relaxation, with a tender caress from his thumb along your thigh that reminds you of the kiss from earlier.  

“There's no need for that,” Azul tries to attract Idia's attention subtlety “one of us would be more than happy to-”

“That's quite alright.”  Rollo doesn't even bother looking at him as he settles you further into his arms, for a brief moment your eyes open and refocus up at your… captor you suppose.  You know the sound of Azul’s worries, and though you haven’t known Rollo for near as long you think (delusionally, the tired voice is regaining its reason.  This is delusion, madness we are throwing ourselves onto a pyre-) you are beginning to recognize his.  There is worry in his gaze, solely focused on you, from the moment you met him he has been considerate and focused on you in a way that should worry you.  Trien does not seem to share your faith in Azul, you think based on the way Rollo begins to move away from the crowd towards the blissful quiet that he has decided to place his bet on the wrong mage, just as you are about to.

“I am going to trust you.”  You whisper, so slowly you wonder if Rollo even knows what it is you are saying.  If he does, he says nothing aloud, but his steps begin to pick up speed.

~~~~

Fire.  There is a fire to your left you think, the wood crackles pleasantly and gives this strange dream a cozy feel.  Your entire body feels heavy, you can barely open your eyes or move a finger, but you don't seem to be bound to this chair, you can't really seem to motivate yourself to move from it.  Someone's head is resting on your lap, their hands are shaking.

“Forgive me.”  Rollo is whispering, but there is an excitement to his voice.  You realize you have no idea how long you have been sleeping, or even where you are as your eyes open and try to adjust to the dimly lit room around you.  The stonework reminds you of the bell tower from your tour of the school, but you don’t remember seeing this room or the grand fireplace you flinch away from.  “I’m just another mage causing problems for you at the end of the day, no matter how proud I am of my virtues.”  

You manage to lift your head just enough to look down, Rollo’s head is indeed lying in your lap, his giant hat has been placed on the table just next to you, and though there is indeed triumph in his voice the expression on his face is painful.  “No matter how hard I try to better myself, I am still a mage.  I am still filled with evil and I am still forced to use that evil to pass judgment.  I couldn’t even save you without resorting to it.  I wonder just how much you would hate me if you knew…”  His eyes flutter open, gently, much too gently for someone you are slowly starting to realize likely drugged you and definitely kidnaped you, he kisses the top of your hand.  “Can I ask you for your forgiveness?  Do I even have the right?”  Slowly, with effort such a simple action should not take, you move your hand to his head and carefully run your nails over his scalp.  Rollo groans, eyes raising to meet your bleary ones.

“If I can forgive you for this…” putting you to sleep, taking you away from your friends, Rollo did not strike you as someone who did this without there being another reason, Azul had earlier described him as naive and you are inclined to trust his judgment.  “Can you accept it?”  Rollo closes his eyes briefly, considering his options.

“If I were to tell you there was a way for magic to no longer be an obstacle…”  He says it with such certainty you do not doubt him for a second “that I could free this world of that sickness that elevates people undeserving and unnecessarily, would you forgive me for the pain it would cause?”

“Do you see yourself as sick, Rollo?”  You move your hand just under his chin, gently directing his head back up to look at you.  Rollo grasps your hand as you do, rising from the floor as he places it just above his frantically beating heart.

“Don’t you?”  There is pain in his eyes.  Pain and sorrow just like every friend you have seen overblot except without the touch of inky madness that precedes it.  “Or am I just like your friends at that school?”

“You aren’t like them.”  It’s a lie of sorts, whatever Rollo has done, you strongly suspect, is no worse or better than anything the others have.  But- “Why do you care about me so much?”  You ask, voice cracking under the strain of your confusion.  Rollo tightens his grip on your hand, his heart is hammering against it as if it wants to burst out of his ribcage and intertwine itself with your hand.  But it cannot, so it satisfies itself with Rollo dipping forward to kiss your lips.  Softly once, gently twice he kisses, before all pretense is lost and he moves in tune with you to hold onto your cape desperately and kiss and kiss and kiss deeply before he needs to come up for air.  He dares not move fully away, taking his breaths just above your lips and slowly continuing to kiss along your jaw and just below murmuring his words as prayers indescribable as he does.  

“I don’t know why.”  Rollo groans in self hatred as you let out a tortured cry “Ever since I saw you I’ve been unable to remove you from my thoughts, my mind burns with flaming desire to throw away my plans,”  he bites, his teeth sink slowly as you grasp at his robes and gasp “to get to know you.  What makes you happy, the things that make you laugh and what makes you cry.  I want to know that I can create a place where someone as lovely and filled with light as you does not feel the need to be anything more than themselves.  Where, when there is danger, you are protected.”  This too, this mad man who proudly sucks just one more mark onto your skin, is your Rollo, your Rollo who is so clearly going through something he will not confess to you and lashing out at the world like every other mage you know and yet…and yet he is saying the things you want to hear.  The things you have longed for any other person to say to you as he rests his forehead against yours, lips bruised by yours and yet still not defiled near enough.  

“When magic causes problems, the fallout should not be yours to take.”  And just like that, you don’t care.  Not nearly as much as you should, you should be hitting him not letting him admire his work as you fall back into a chair he didn’t need to bind you to, and certainly not thinking of how much you wish he had.  You should hold him to the same standard you had the others.  “I’ll come back for you.”  It should frighten you, how quick he is to return to the stoic calm you had met him in as he promises you something awful.  “There are things I need to attend to at the top of the tower, but I swear I will come back to you.”  You don’t have to think hard about who those will be, Malleus’s angry shouts of betrayal at the (likely) false invitation aren’t hard to imagine, hopefully he hasn’t hurt anyone.

“Stay safe.”  You hoarsely whisper, and Rollo briefly pauses in his walk to the door.  Whatever he is thinking you aren’t left wondering long, quickly with a speed you didn’t know he had he darts back to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You too, Yuu.”  He says your name with something like love once he returns to the door, his smile shines with it.  It’s not his fault that you want it to be, is it his fault that you doubt him?  If it is not love Rollo feels then what is it?  Just obsession or-

“AHA!”  A familiar voice knocks you out of your thoughts and onto the floor.  “FINALLY I FOUND YA!”

~~~~

“It would seem I have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment.”  Trien’s understatement should fall flat, but Deuce is too busy bouncing his leg to try and dispel his stress.  “I was too focused on trying to make sure you all were not causing trouble, I neglected to consider outside influences.”  There is no need to guess what he is referring to, there is a noticeable absence among the collected NRC students.  “Are you sure you should be thanking him?”  As if Azul can sense Deuce’s thoughts, he begins to voice his own.

“Be that as it may, I doubt Rollo means to actually harm Yuu.  Almost everything he has said to this point about magicless people seems to suggest he thinks they need to be coddled, not punished.”

“Indeed.”  Jamil nods, eyes closed as if he is thinking really hard about something.  “But  his personal feelings towards Yuu is what makes this concerning, that’s what you are thinking I assume Azul?”  

“Like I said,” Azul tries to ignore the cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck, “I doubt he means to harm them, but that doesn't mean his actions won’t have unintended consequences.  Which is why we need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”

“The rest of you do that.”  Deuce is surprised by how calm he feels, his best friend is in danger, he should be furious.  But all he feels is an unfamiliar determined calm.  “I’ll go look for Yuu.”

“LOLOL what makes you think you need to do that?”  Idia's laughter does spark a bit of a snarl from him, but Idia doesn't back down.  “If Rollo’s following the classic BBGE playbook, Yuu’s got to be in the Bell Tower yeah?  No need to split off into search parties, the princess is always in the final castle.”

“So there you have it.”  Malleus has been disturbingly quiet ever since Epel pointed out how he destroyed the fire lotuses.  His green eyes haven't once moved from their scorched roots, as if he is attempting to sear his anger into the stones below. “I will crush Rollo Flamm under my heel and bring Yuu back to all of us as whole the day they were taken.”

“Dude it has literally been like an hour.”  Idia shakes his head, but Deuce can't help but agree with Malleus. 

“Hold on Yuu, I promise we'll find you.”

~~~~

“Nyhahahaha!  Take that!”  Grim swats the air as if he's cutting through imaginary ropes.  “All those other losers screamin’ and whining as soon as those flowers started poppin up but not the Great Grim!  I jumped all the way up to where that Rollo guy was hangin out and followed him right here to you!”  The story Grim tells you confirms your worst fears, but soothes some of the lesser ones.  You have no doubt that if anyone can solve the threat of the crimson lotus’s it’s Idia, Azul, and Malleus.  As soon as they were done measuring dicks anyway, for now you only have one real thing on your mind; desperately scrambling forward on the floor to scoop Grim up in your arms and hold him tight.  He's trembling, and your heart begins to beat painfully in your chest as Grim starts to sob.  “I was so worried about you.”

“I'm ok Grim.”  You mean it this time, whatever Rollo fed you has well worked its way through your system and left you with the energy to whip away your beloved monster’s tears.  “A bit sleepy but ok.”

“Of course you're OK the Great Grim's here.”  You contine wipe his nose through his sniffles.  “And now he’s gonna get you out of the tower!  Just like a real hero!”  But his bravado has a slight stutter, and yours is fighting a war with your heart.  Your eyes close as you think of Rollo, at the top of the bell tower fighting to defend his delusions from people who would understand only half of what his problems were.  

“I wish I had met him sooner.”  It wouldn’t have stopped this, but you wonder not for the first or last time what would have happened if the poor mage had just had someone to talk to.

“You don’t wanna go do ya.”  Grim frowns, eyes and ears drooping before he remembers he is supposed to be in charge.   “Well then we can stay.  Why should we go back to the other guys!  Yeah!  Screw ‘em!  Always makin’ us do the hard work while they go and have fun.”

“No it’s ok Grim.”  You stand, making sure to still hold onto him as you stand, carefully at first to make sure you are ok to put weight on your legs.  “If we stay here you will never get to be the world’s greatest mage.”

“Yeah…”  Grim does not perk up when you say that, it’s almost enough to make you break out into a sprint in case he has lost too much of his magic already.  “Ya know… henchuman, I don’t wanna go out there alone.  S’ not fun without you.  I don’t wanna be the greatest mage if I have ta not have you.”  

“...I’m not going anywhere Grim.”  You touch your head to his, like a mother cat trying to comfort her kit.  It’s an empty promise you suppose, with how desperate you are to go home.  But if what Rollo had said about teleportation magic was true… then maybe you would just have to pick a place to make a new home instead.  

The rest of the night is a blur.  Somehow you manage to make it down the tower stairs to Deuce, who nearly has a panic attack when he sees you, and Rook who starts composing a poem in ode to Grim’s bravery that gives him a unneeded ego boost.  They do a much better job of explaining what had happened than Grim had.

About the lotuses.  About the pandemonium in the town, about what Azul and Idia had convinced Malleus to do.

“Please don’t ever get kidnapped again.  Malleus got really scary.”  The look on Deuce’s face suggests you will need to give Tsunotarou a lecture later.  A long, long lecture that you suppose you can make somewhat shorter for how glad you are to hear the Bell of Solace ring out.   And for insisting on Rollo still hold the ball.  Getting to see Silver and Sebek try to toss Ruggie, Jamil, and Idia in the air completely makes getting kidnapped worth it.  But…Your friends have not exactly left you alone since the threat ended.  You know why of course, if one of them had been kidnapped you probably would be doing the same thing, but it’s keeping you from some closure.  For someone who promised to come back for you, Rollo sure seems determined to stay away.  It’s making your expression crumple in sadness behind your mask, something you wonder if he notices at all.

~~~~

“I am so grateful to you for providing me with so many memories.”  Malleus holds tightly onto Rollo’s arm as the music flows across the ballroom, piercing gaze strategically keeping him away from the moonlit balcony you have decided to sequester yourself too.  “But I must say there is one matter I think we have neglected to discuss.”

“And what could that possibly be?”  Rollo snaps, the audacity of these Night Raven fools hurts, all he wishes to do is lick his wounds in peace.

“Why, the matter of your unfortunate attachment to my dearest friend.”  Mallues grins, something like fear is finally flickering behind Rollo’s eyes.  How unfortunate.  “The child of man is precious to me, Flamm.  And more importantly they do not share your views on magic.”

“Have you asked them?”  Rollo replies tersely.  

“Why would we need to do that?”  Azul’s voice smoothly interrupts the private dance, he and Idia move to Rollo’s either side, they certainly look concerned.  Angry even.  If there were not mages Rollo would be pleased you had such dedicated friends.

“Because it’s clear from how little you paid attention to their safety this entire trip that you expect them to constantly come away from your magic abuses unscathed.”  He snaps.  “Tell me, if I hadn’t placed them in the tower, what would have happened to them?  Would you have been considerate of their weaknesses?  Yuu is not invincible, and I am ashamed that I of all people seem to be the only one concerned about their safety.”

“No I don’t think you are.”  Azul says.  “Not in the way you think, anyway.  Yuu is extremely capable, we don’t treat them differently from any other student because we hate them, that’s just silly.  Your entire perception of them is based on a terribly prejudiced first impression, and not one nearly as positive as you seem to think.”

“You can just say he has a creepy purity fetish and go.”  Mutters Idia.

“And completely destroy my credibility?”  Azul has more to say, but it's cut off before he can make his point.

“I agree with Shroud.”  Mallues says, causing both Rollo and Azul to choke.  “His treatment of Yuu is very much in line with cult-like devotion towards a magical artifact.  Extremely ironic given his mission statement, wouldn’t you agree, Ashengrotto?”  

“Oh of course!”  Azul laughs, making sure to step forcefully on Idia’s foot before he can go correcting anyone.  “But perhaps back to my point-”

“You don't have one.”  Mutters Rollo, already bored with the conversation and desperate to find you again, just one more time before this entire failed event is over and he has to return to his plans.

“Yuu is a hard worker, and stubborn too.  They do not need magic to be just as capable of what they do as any mage.”  Azul’s words make him pause, he searches desperately for any sign of deception in them, but there isn’t any there.

“You do realize,” he tries slowly, “that none of those qualities make them able to defend themselves from offensive magic, which your Professor at least seems to think you quite willing to use.”

“I mean yeah.”  Says Idia.  “But like, that’s not what he’s trying to say.  If you only choose a route because it has tropes you like then you aren’t really loyal to that character.  If the only reason you don’t want to hurt Yuu is because they haven’t got magic then you are just as bad as any of us.  And trust me, they’re scary smart.  They’ll know.”  And with that cryptic message, Rollo finally finds himself alone with his thoughts.

Two lines.  The first time he saw you the only thing he knew about you was two lines on a sheet of paper that said literally nothing.  And the longer he stares at you, the more he feels like he is drowning under the weight of how little he still knows.

Yuu is a magicless human from a world without magic.  They like to read about myths and legends from different cultures.  They like their cat monster friend and treat him like a sibling.  There, that’s three lines.

Unbidden, his body begins to move towards the balcony where you are standing.  

What is Yuu’s favorite color, do they like croissants?  Are they allergic to any types of pollen, what is their world like?  Do they have siblings, a family that they miss?

He wants to kiss you again, but properly this time.  Not in the throws of a shared delusion, still maybe in the bell tower, but with your full acceptance.

“May I have your hand?”  Rollo feels more sick at the way your eyes light up than anything Malleus had said about guilt and absolution.

“Of course.”  He does not take you out to the center of the dance floor, he does not flaunt you as a trophy won at your friends expense.  He simply winds his arms around you to hold you scandalously close.  “Rollo, do you mind if I ask you some questions?  About some things that Idia told me…”

“Will you give me your number?”  He thinks there is a different way he is supposed to ask a question like that, a nicer one.  “There are a lot of things I want to talk to you about, but tonight I think I want to savor what it feels like to hold you for as long as I can… as long as you are alright with that.”  You do not say anything in response, instead you lay your head against his chest, ear firm on his heartbeat as you close your weary eyes.  “I meant what I said before.  I want you to think of Fleur City as a place where you can find respite.  Solace.”

“Maybe you should invite me to come back then.”  You say and he closes his own eyes to picture it.  He has other places he can take you, better bookstores, more historic places.  Maybe there is a key to sending you home somewhere in his city and if not-

“Careful, I just might ask you to stay forever.”  There is an unspoken aura over you both.  Gentle, new, and warm in a way that Rollo certainly never thought he would be allowed to experience.  An aura of agreement that in time, that might not be such a bad thing to ask after all.

[macabr3-barbi3]

Alastor x Reader who has temperamental issues and decides to throw something at him which leads to him fucking the tantrum out of her.

well shit, I’m fucking obsessed with this idea lmao to the top of the adhd queue it went! I tried to keep it a little more bite sized, sometimes the plot does get away from me lol

As usual the ending is rushed once the smut is over but I hope this works with what you were looking for 🖤

Tags: light bondage; vaginal sex; just a tad bit of begging

Everyone else in the hotel knew it was easiest to just give you your way when you were pissy; except Alastor apparently. You came home after a rough day to spot him in the kitchen with the last chamomile teabag in his steaming mug; you asked him to trade for something else so you could have what was currently steeping in his ‘Oh Deer’ cup, so you could sleep.

“You don’t need it to sleep; really all that one needs to sleep is a bed and silence! You have your own bedroom and everyone else is asleep so I think you’ll be perfectly fine.” 

Some childish part of you decided that the best course of action upon his refusal would be to throw your own empty mug directly at his head in retaliation.

The sickening crack you heard almost made you think you had hit your mark- but no, that was just his fucking neck snapping as he cocked his head far enough to the side to avoid the ceramic projectile. The mug shattered harmlessly on the floor and Alastor turned to look at you, his eyes black, red dials in place of pupils. “Surely you can’t be so foolish,” he had growled, and the kitchen faded into darkness as he transported you to his bedroom.

How exactly that led to where you were now- hands suspended above you by shadows, Alastor’s claws digging ridges into the flesh of your hips while he bounced you on his thick cock- was a bit beyond you at the moment. You were overwhelmed with the feeling of it, the sensation of his hardness inside you, the smell of his sweat and your arousal combining into some olfactory aphrodisiac that served to hurtle you closer to the edge of orgasm than you had been since dying.

“Have you remembered yet, darling?” Alastor’s eyes are lidded, cast low enough to watch your pussy swallowing him. “What do we say when we want something?”

Ahh, that’s what it was. Reintroducing the concept of manners, he had said, though he failed to mention that he would be fucking it into you. You had honestly thought he was going to kill you, shadow tentacles wrapped around your wrists, his eyes dark and dangerous until he noticed the embarrassed flush to your cheeks, the subtle dilation of your pupils and sharp intake of breath when he trailed his claws down the bare skin of your arms. “Perhaps there’s a better way to get the idea across, hm?”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice strained.

“Mmm, and when we do get what we want?” He accompanies this with a hard thrust, and your head drops forward with a moan, gaze captivated by the flex of his stomach muscles while he grinds up into you, his shirt discarded when you had climbed onto the bed.

“Oh, fuck- thank you.” 

His smile is pleased. “Lovely, chérie. You know, I’ve kept that cup of tea nice and hot on your desk over there- I could be persuaded to part with it if you can be polite.”

He thought you still wanted the tea? “Don’t care,” you gasp out. “Just- fuck me.”

His hips still, hands leaving your waist to fold behind his head, the picture of casual patience, like his prick wasn’t twitching inside you. “That’s not how we ask, dear- whether it’s for tea for pleasure.”

“God damn- please, Alastor.” You can’t stop the roll of your eyes as you try to grind down, the shadows around your wrist pulling you up at the last moment to prevent you from gaining any of the delicious friction you were seeking. 

“I think you can do better. Keep in mind that I’m being merciful, darling- I’ve killed greater demons for lesser crimes than trying to crack my skull open, you know. I’ve certainly never rewarded whining and demands in such a way before.” He reaches a clawed finger out, trails it down your neck and between the mounds of your breasts, continuing down your frame until he reaches the sensitive juncture between your thighs. The hard press against your clit has you groaning and trying to press down, only to be stopped by the grip of his shadows still on your wrists. “Once more- try for some sincerity this time!”

“Fuck- please, Alastor.” You make it as saccharine and earnest as you can, and you’re rewarded with being lowered back down onto the Radio Demon’s cock, slow and sweet. The pleads fall from your lips unbidden then, his hands coming back to your hips and pace picking up with every repetition; “please please please, oh God, fuck, Alastor-”

“Beautiful, dear,” he says, and he guides you over the peak with a gentle finger to your sensitive clit and an angle of his hips, driving into you with a frantic fierceness that has you wishing you could dig your nails into the flesh of his chest to ride it out. 

Like he can hear the thought, the shadows on your wrists release and you fall forward and sink your fingers in the way that you want to. You want to demand that he finish, that he follow you over the edge, but this whole thing started because of you demanding something from him, and pitching a fit (and a mug) when he didn’t comply. You could take his lesson to heart- show him just how effective a method of teaching it was.

“Please,” you moan in his ear, and his fingers tense against your skin. “Cum for me, I want it- I’ll ask nicely, Al, please?”

He groans against your neck, dragging your hips down into his and grinding up against you, the clench of your body pulling him into the abyss along with you.

There’s a moment of quiet filled only with the sounds of your panting before Alastor clears his throat. “So, darling, what have we learned?”

You sigh, still irritated at the reprimanding but satisfied with how it turned out- your eyelids are dropping shut. “Mind my manners, I suppose.”

Alastor hums into your hair. “That’s right. Now, the offer does still stand for the tea- what do you think?”

“I don’t have the necessary equipment or angle to throw a cup so I guess I’ll be polite. Can I please have the last cup of chamomile?” Despite the request your mind is fuzzy, eyes harder to keep open.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, and you hear the gentle clatter of ceramic on your nightstand. “I did tell you that you didn’t need the tea to sleep, darling.” The soft vibrations of his voice are the last thing you hear before dropping off into blissful rest.

[angelic-sturniolos111]

Fresh Love Modeling 🍊

You never guessed that Chris Sturniolo would reach out for you to model his Fresh Love clothing brand. You had been following him on social media a while and definitely had a crush on him. What you didn’t know is that when Chris had seen your modeling portfolio he started crushing too. The two of you end up alone in his dressing room together after the photoshoot and things heat up.

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

entirely in Chris’s POV

warnings: cursing, flirty and smuttyyyyy

author’s note: writing this completely sleep deprived :) did not proofread lolz

I want to sit on his lap so bad in this pic

My Fresh Love brand is super important to me and I am so grateful that it has grown in popularity thanks to my fans. I want to grow this brand and reach out to creators and artists outside of the fandom in hopes that eventually Fresh Love Clothing can be sold in stores nationwide. A big part of Fresh Love, and any clothing brand, is the marketing which I take very seriously. I always want to have a diverse group of models, but ultimately they also should be attractive and have a cool aesthetic to be the face of the brand. I had sent out a model casting call last month, and my friend Tril and I were going through all the applications. Tril truly saw my vision and we were usually on the same page when it came to models we thought would work well for the brand.

Today was definitely a “work day” in the house— Nick was editing our recent car vlog, Matt was brainstorming video ideas, and Tril and I sat on the couch on our laptops going through hundreds of model portfolios together. We had been scrolling through applications for nearly two hours and I was honestly bored out of my mind. Luckily, we found a handful of models we like, but I still felt like one was missing. There was a certain look, a certain vibe, that I was looking for and I wasn’t sure what it was but I knew I’d know the second I saw them.

“Hey take a look at this one. I recognize this girl… I think she follows us on insta or something?” Tril says passing me his laptop. Damn. This girl was beyond fine. I scrolled through her portfolio pictures, and I really liked her modeling style. She didn’t look mainstream, which I liked, but she had a really unique look. “Do you recognize her?” Tril said interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I’d definitely remember her if I had seen her before.” I said. I went to the top of her application page, her name was Y/N.

“I like her portfolio and I think she’s a good fit for the brand.” Tril says.

“Absolutely. I really like her. I’m going to accept her application right now.” I said sending her an acceptance sheet back with the photo shoot information.

***

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I always have trouble falling asleep because I’ll have a thousand creative ideas that I bounce back and forth in my head, but this time I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of Y/N. Tril said she followed us, right? I grab my phone and open instagram and typed her name in the search bar, and her profile popped up. She was following Tril and I as well as my brothers, our group account, and our podcast account. Nice, she’s a fan! I went through her posts and God, she was stunning. I wanted to follow her, but I knew if fans saw that they’d get all sorts of crazy ideas and make assumptions so I decided I’d wait to follow her until the Fresh Love shoot would be posted so everyone knew who she was. I looked at some modeling shots she posted, laid back pictures with her friends, and I was unapologetically looking for any signs that she was dating anyone which from her profile she appeared to be single. I saw some of her swimsuit modeling shots she had done recently, and I zoomed in on all parts of her body. Her amazing body. She had these thick thighs that contoured perfectly with her cute ass. My thoughts wandered off, thinking of how badly I wanted those thighs wrapped around my head. I got hard at the thought of it. I continued to mindlessly stalk her instagram before I finally fell asleep… dreaming of her.

*** one month later ***

It was Fresh Love photoshoot day, or as I thought of it, the day I finally get to meet Y/N after crushing on her this past month. I got to the studio before any of the models were scheduled to arrive so I could talk with the photographers and mark out the spaces where I wanted to shoot. I get upstairs and see someone siting in a chair outside the photography studio. When they hear me approaching they look up, and my breath hitches in my throat, it was Y/N. My heart immediately started beating faster, but I knew I had to keep it cool both professionally and so I don’t utterly embarrass myself in front of her.

“Chris! Hey, I’m sorry I know the models aren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Honestly I was hoping to catch a moment alone with you before we shoot.” She says nervously with a big, beautiful smile on her face. She wanted to see me? Alone? I hadn’t realize I went silent for a moment while I was caught up in my thoughts until Y/N interrupted.

“Umm I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just such a huge fan of yours and your brothers, and I wanted to tell you that. Also to tell you I am so grateful and excited to be modeling for Fresh Love. I love your brand and own a few things from it already just from following you for a while now.” She says.

“Oh, no you didn’t scare me! Sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone this early. I’m happy to hear you’re a fan, and thanks for supporting my brothers and I, it means a lot. I really liked your modeling application and I’ve been looking forward to shooting with you.” I replied. I looked and sounded collected on the outside, but on the inside I was definitely nervous. I’m usually super confident talking to girls, even ones that I like, but Y/N had me acting different. She gave me a sweet smile before we walked into the studio together.

The other models started showing up as I led them to their dressing rooms where their Fresh Love clothing was waiting for them to change into. I stood in front of the backdrop for the first set of pictures and saw as the models rounded the corner all dressed in Fresh Love. Y/N wore the emerald green sweat set, and damn she looked good. The bright color just worked so perfectly with her complexion and brought out the color in her beautiful eyes. Seeing my own brand on her body drove me crazy. Man, this chick has me on a leash.

As time went by the photographers took group shots of all the models together, and some individual shots of each of them. When it came time for Y/N individual shots she was a natural. Her poses were relaxed, but strong and confident at the same time. She really wore the brand well and I was looking forward to seeing the results. She wraps up her individual shots and starts walking over to me.

“So, how did I look?” She says giving me a flirtatious look.

“Really, really great. I was thinking maybe we can get some pictures of just us two together for the Fresh Love instagram.” I said.

“Sounds great!” She says with a smile. She takes a step closer to me and leans in slightly, “Should I go change?” She asks but this time quieter so only I could hear. She makes me so nervous.

“Y-yeah. There’s, um, there’s a pair of joggers and a t-shirt in your dressing room if you want to change into that for me.” I said stuttering.

“Of course, anything for you.” She says confidently flirting with me. I think she can tell she made me nervous, and she was taking advantage of it. That’s so hot.

***

This time I was wearing the black hoodie and jogger set while Y/N wore the gray joggers and blue t-shirt. I sat on the couch we were using for the shoot, and she comes out of her dressing room to join me. She looked really great. I smiled at her and moved over so she could sit on the couch next to me.

“I’m thinking for the first few poses we just sit here kinda relaxed, looking at the camera. Then we do some where you stand behind the couch leaning over it while I sit here in front of you.” I said.

“Yeah sounds good!.” She says, and with that we start posing for the camera. The photographer has us scotch closer together, and I drape my arm behind her on the top of the couch. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the camera because all I wanted to do in the moment was to look at her. She moves off the couch to position herself behind it. “Like this, Chris?” She asks.

I turn around and see her bent over, arms crossed on the back of the couch. Fuck, her ass looks nice bent over like this. “Yeah, looks great.” I smile at her. I turn back around and the camera continues to click. We move around slightly to get different angles. She moves one of her hands to rest on my shoulder. I feel her hand slide up the back of my neck as her fingertips gently play around with my hair. The tension was palpable. I sharply inhale, a chill moving down my spine, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool much longer.

“Okay how about we call that a wrap for today. Great job everyone thanks so much for being here.” I blurt out getting off the couch, shaking a few of the photographers hands, before I quickly run into my dressing room without turning back.

***

In the dressing room I can hear the photographers packing up their gear and leave. The other models had gone home for the day, and I wasn’t sure if Y/N had left yet either. I found my answer when I hear a slight knock at the door, “Chris?” She says faintly, “Can I come in?” I’m frozen, I don’t answer before she comes into the room still dressed in her Fresh Love fit. “Are you okay? You seemed kinda frantic towards the end there.” She asks sincerely. I seriously debated telling her I liked her, but I knew that wouldn’t be professional of me.

“Yeah, I just get nervous shooting sometimes.” I lied. Y/N scoffs a little.

“You, nervous? I’ve never been more nervous for a photoshoot before. Having THE Chris Sturniolo sitting inches away for me all day long is something I had only ever dreamed of.” She laughs. “You definitely made me nervous today. God, I’m sorry I sound like such a stupid fangirl right now.” She says looking down.

“I never would have thought you were nervous. You seemed super confident today.” I say.

“Maybe. I tried to be confident so I could impress you.”

“Impress me?” I say a little surprised. She looks up and nods her head. I stand up and approach her meeting her in the middle of the room, “You’ve impressed me plenty, pretty girl.” I’m unsure of where this sudden boldness came from, but I could tell Y/N liked it when her body relaxed, and I could see her whole demeanor change. She looked up at me with seductive eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she runs her hand up my arm before resting it on my chest, “I’m sure I can impress you in other ways too.” Her eyes flash from mine down to my noticeable, growing erection, and then back up to my lips. I can’t keep it in any longer. I lean down and kiss her soft lips, her hand meets the side of my face and my lips part for her to deepen the kiss moving her tongue across mine. We step back and my back hits the wall when her lips move from mine down to my neck bitting and sucking ever so gently.

“Fuck.” I moan softly. I feel her smile into my neck, and she moves a hand down to gingerly palm my boner over my pants.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this all day.” She says breathlessly as she pulls away from my neck to look me in the eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else have you wanted to do princess?” I ask suggestively. She smiles, and with that she drops to her knees. She hooks her fingers in the band of my sweatpants before pulling them down to my knees. She places soft kisses on my dick through my underwear, and the slight contact made me groan.

“Eager, aren’t we?” She says as she begins to pull my underwear down. My rock hard dick springs up and hits my stomach and her eyes widen while her mouth parts. She looks up at me and I begin to wrap her hair in my hand holding it back for her while the other gripped the chair next to me as I brace myself. She plants tiny kisses on my thighs on either side of my dick, and the teasing had my cock twitching with every kiss.

“Please, Y/N, please stop teasing.” I sigh. She runs her tongue from the base of my cock on the underside of my dick to the tip where she licks the precum from the slit. She swirls her tongue around my head a few times before pulling away and spitting into her hand. She spreads the wetness on my length as she pumps me a few times before wrapping her lips around my head and pushing her head forward. I let out a moan when I feel my dick hit the back of her throat. She keeps one hand tight at the base of my cock, pumping and twisting it as she bobs her head up and down on it. I’m a whimpering mess. My grip tightens in her hair as I help move her head at a steady pace. Her hand lets go of my shaft as she moves her head all the way forward, taking my full length into her mouth gagging slightly. I look down to see her already looking up at me with tears forming in her eyes. I felt my dick twitch in her mouth as I was close to cumming, but I tugged her hair and pulled her off my length before I could do so.

I move the chair I had been grabbing onto with one hand as my other reached for her chin and guided her to stand.

“Sit.” I demanded. She obliged and sat in the chair as I got to my knees and started pulling the sweatpants off of her. I caress her thighs with my big hands before pulling her thong off and I stare at her dripping wet cunt.

“Did I make you this wet?” I ask, and all she can do is shake her head. “I want you to use your words pretty girl.”

“Yes.” She whines out. “You always make me this wet.”

“Always?” I question. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” I ask. She nods her head again.

“Yes.” She says.

“Do you use your fingers when you touch yourself, princess?”

“Yes” she says. My fingertips move agonizingly slow up and down her folds spreading the wetness around.

“And who’s fingers do you imagine are pumping inside of you when you’re touching yourself baby.”

“Yours Chris. Always yours.” She moans out. Without warning I shove two of my fingers deep into her cunt eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. I pump my fingers in and out of her at a fast pace causing her to grip the back of my head roughly, my hair tight in between her fingers. I kitty lick her clit and curl my fingers inside her.

“F-fuck Chris.” She moans out. I continue moving my fingers in and out of her while I lay my tongue flat licking up and down her clit, sucking on it for a few seconds at a time. She pants, trying to catch her breath as she breathes heavier.

“Chris. CHRIS— I’m gonna cum.” With that I immediately pull my fingers out of her and raise my head.

“Not yet, princess. I want you to cum all over my cock for me baby.” I wrap my arms under her thighs and lift her off of the seat carrying her over to the makeup vanity counter across the room. I place her down and she stands facing me.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt to take it off, and I abruptly stop her grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Leave it on princess. I want to watch myself fucking you while you wear my clothes.”

My hands reach her waist and turn her around roughly pushing down on her upper back to bend her over across the counter. I look in the mirror to see her flushed face and eyes blown with lust. I had never been so sex hungry before. I ripped my hoodie off, and began to align my dick at her entrance. I slid the head of my dick in between her folds getting it nice and wet before I pushed in slowly making me groan loudly. Y/N gasps as I enter her, not ready for my size. I bottom out and stand still, letting her adjust to my length. Suddenly, without warning she begins to lean forward and back moving herself on my cock.

“Please move, Chris.” She begged. I smiled at her in the mirror. I started moving in and out of her with slow, hard thrusts. Her walls were warm and tight around my cock. We moaned together as I kept the steady pace.

“Chris?” She says.

“What is it princess?” I look at her in the mirror, half of her now messy hair covering her flushed pink face. She adjusts her arms to grab the front of the countertop. She lifts her chest up slightly, and the FRESH on her shirt is now visible in the mirror.

“Fuck me. Harder.” She pleads, and that was all I needed to hear. I went absolutely feral. I grabbed her hair with one hand making sure to pull her up enough that I could see her Fresh Love shirt in the mirror. My other hand laid flat just above her ass, pushing down so I could balance myself as I relentlessly thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

“Fuck. Fuck, Y/N! You feel so good pretty girl.”

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…” She whines breathlessly.

“Good girl. I want you to cum all over my cock for me.” I say back. We make eye contact in the mirror and I feel her walls clench around me sending a pulsating sensation through my cock, and I knew I was close too. Her face scrunches and she repeatedly moans my name. I feel her cunt tighten and relax around me as she comes all over my cock, and we maintain eye contact as she does.

Seeing her face while she came on my dick was what I needed. My thrusts got harder and sloppier as I felt my dick twitch inside her.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N! Oh, FUCK.” I moan loudly as I feel myself release my big load into her pussy, my cum coating her walls. I thrust a few more times riding out my high before pulling out seeing our orgasms drip out of her cunt. Y/N turns to face me, and tries to stand but fails as her knees wobble and she grabs the countertop as to not fall down. My hands grab her sides to help balance her.

“You’re amazing, princess.” I say to her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I place a gentle kiss on her lips before moving my hands to the bottom of her shirt pulling it up. She raises her arms up as I lift the Fresh Love tee over her head. I crouch down and gently begin wiping her clean with the t-shirt.

“Chris! Not the Fresh Love shirt!” Y/N says surprised and in a concerned tone of voice.

“Baby, it’s my brand. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” I smirk, earning a cute giggle from her.

**********

This was my first time writing smut and I think it’s kinda trash but lmk what your thoughts are.

- Kay 🖤

[soothinglee]

what would i do? (without someone like you) ──★ ˙🌱 ̟ ¡!

bangchan x ninth member! reader | 1.6k words✔︎

my notes⎯ i re-wrote this thing so many times i've lost count lol. i don't know if i'm satisfied with this because i couldn't convey the feeling as well as i wanted but i still like it! hope you enjoy! (also #bangchantakecareofyourself) warnings⎯ self neglect, reader taking care of bangchan. genre⎯ ninth member! au, angst, comfort, (heavily implied) self-neglect, platonic. songs⎯ what would i do?; strawberry guy

⎯catalog for skz✰ | ⎯ navigation✰ [requests are open]

"are you okay chan?"

the question lingers in the air for a hot second. it floats around until it hits the distracted ear of chan, who sits with his face resting on his chin, unmoving from his seat at the desk.

he blinks after a second, the fog slowly clearing from his eyes.

"huh?" his voice sounds distant as he resumes fiddling with the unfinished track.

you could tell that something was off in his demeanor. his postured was slouched, arms weak in their positions as he tries to fight off the sleep to continue working. you figured it had been a while since he had rest. you all were pre-paring for a comeback and with that comes a lot of work. new concepts, new looks, new songs. a high expectation bangchan finds himself fretting over due to the preconceived notions stays has on the upcoming album.

you've seen bangchan re-write a song 15 times because he thought stays wouldn't like one lyric. everyone, including you, has told him that he could only remove that one line, and keep the rest but he had the idea that everything has to flow together. which is why he's on take #16.

you give him a once over, your brows creasing. "i said are you okay?" he gives you a quick glance, his head bouncing as he goes back to his laptop, "how about you take a break?"

"can't."

a quiet sigh leaves your lips as you get up from the couch. the sky had darken as more time was spent in the studio, the only light source was the small table lamp in the far corner in the room. even then you could see just how much all of this was affecting him.

his eyes were sunken in, big purple-red like bruises encase them. he lifts up his hand to rub at the irritated skin. anyone could tell that he was exhausted.

your hands come up to rub out the kinks in his shoulders, "you're exhausted."

his body is defiant in letting him relax into your soothing touch, he hesitates for a second, letting the final moments of the massage sit in before he lightly shakes you off. "no time for sleep. i took a nap earlier, and i had a cup of coffee." he goes back to the track he was clipping.

an eyebrow raise, "how much earlier?"

this time he sighs and drops both hands. "y/n..."

"i'm just looking out for you. as the leader you have to take care of yourself, because if you aren't, then how do you expect to take care of us?" you know the question hits hard when you feel his body freeze underneath your hands. you stare at the back of his head, in the corner of your eye you see his shadow move a fraction and then his head drops. "you know that you don't have to be so hard on yourself," you take a moment to gauge his reaction, then a soft, "right?"

he releases a shaky breath, muttering.

you let your hands find the base of his neck, letting them go down to follow the path of his shoulder, willing the words from his throat. when you first joined stray kids, you were extremely nervous to the point where you couldn't speak, bangchan found that the movement worked well. you hoped it would work as well in your favor.

"i" he starts, his voice broken under the amount of stress resting on his chest, "yeah...i know."

you nod to yourself, a prideful smile on your lips, "okay then, why don't you take a break, let han or changbin finish it up in the morning," he goes to interject but you're quick to cut in, "and don't worry about putting this on them," taking the words from his mouth, "i'm sure they won't mind.

for the first time since he entered the studio, it's been almost 5 hours, he looks up at you and you can just see how much it's all affecting him, even down to the glassy look rising in his eyes.

he doesn't say anything but stare. he still looks hesitant. like at any moment he'll run off with the laptop and lock himself in a closet.

you stare back.

30 seconds, maybe a minute passes before a defeated look crosses over his face, letting his head drop onto your outstretched arm. wordlessly, he gives you one last look, then turns around to save the file, exit out of the software, and shuts down his computer.

"okay."

"okay?" you can't help the happiness that laces your tone.

"okay, i'll take a break, get some rest."

a squeal escapes your throat as you hold yourself back from celebrating, you honestly didn't think it was going to be as easy as it was. "i'm glad you're doing this, you need to give yourself some time to repair." you step back as he rises from the chair, holding on to his arm as he tries to return the feeling back to his legs, "how about you let me take care of you tonight? we can stop by the convenience store on the way home and pick up some snacks?"

chan immediately shakes his head, "i can't let you do that."

you bend down to retrieve your bag from the couch, making a pit stop by the lamp to turn it off, "why not?" you question, meeting him at the door. he leans on it for support. "you do it for me all the time."

"exactly," he holds open the door for you as you make your way out into the hallway, as you walk several offices are lit up by the occupants inside, you can only hope that they are not in the same situation as the man next to you. "as your elder, i'm supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around."

you scoff, rolling your eyes, "please, you know how many times i have had to take care of changbin after he gets sick because he ate too much? this is nothing new."

for the first time in 3 days a sound embodying the phrase ha ha ha escapes his lips. it's so hearty and abrupt that he has to stop walking. it brings a little smile to your face.

"what?" you groan, playing into it. "it's not funny! it was so annoying, i'm serious!" you latch onto his arm to continue dragging him out and into the lobby, nodding at the lady at the front desk as you pass, "he sounded like a baby with the way he was complaining."

"trust," he starts, regaining his breath, "i've had to deal with that before." he huffs and looks at you, then the giggles come back and you can't help but join him. it lasts until you get to the front doors of eMart.

before you can pass through the threshold a hand yanks you back. you look up to find chan already staring at you, an indescribable glint in his eyes. "yeah?"

it takes him a second to gather his thoughts, mouth opening and closing undecidedly. after a moment he finally finds his voice, hand gripping onto the sleeve of your jacket. "...thank you." he blinks and a stray tear falls, "it means a lot."

you can't help the watery smile that graces itself on your lips, the sudden affection throwing you off guard. you reach up and brush the tears from his face, using two fingers to turn the corner of his mouth upwards, "don't thank me. you always take care of us, someone has to take care of you."

you pull him towards the automatic doors, listening as the chime of the robotic voice welcomes you in. the sight of the noodles you were craving makes your stomach growl. "c'mon! i know what i want to get!"

even though this was supposed to be a break from making music, chan can't help the melody that repeats in his head as he watches you, still gripping onto his hand, drag him through the isles.

he knew he had to make something for you, as a token of appreciation.

A WEEK LATER⎯

it had been sometime since you had last been in the studio. all of the songs and planning for the comeback were completed and now you all were in the final stages, preparing for the promotions.

thankfully, today was your day off.

it had been raining nonstop, the water covering the streets and sidewalks like a blanket. even though it was 4 o'clock in the evening, clouds covered the sun making it seem more like 6.

it was perfect for a nap.

as you were getting into your bed your phone on the dresser vibrates and you grudgingly get up to retrieve it. you tap it once and the notification center pops up;

chanツ now

what would i do?.mp4

as soon as you open the message, a little confused, another text roles in.

a couple weeks ago i was going through a rough patch of overworking myself to the brink of exhaustion. i hadn't ate, bathe, or slept properly in days before. then you came and convinced me to take a break, to take care of myself. before you joined the group i was always worried about taking care of the others that i never took care of myself. you helped me realize that. i'm not trying to belittle the others for their self-awareness skills but you are the first in a long time to take care of me like that. and it had me thinking. what would i do without someone like you? and despite you telling me to take a break this came to mind and i couldn't stop myself. so y/n, this goes to you. thank you for taking care of me that night. i hope you know that i will always take care of you too.

love, bangchan.

and as you listen to the track you can't help the tears that follow.

thank you for reading <3

[melon-fodder]

(Naughty) Beach Episode • T. Hiragi

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fem bodied reader, reader wears a bikini, body insecurities, semi-public sex, fast and dirty, Hiragi is strong enough to hold you up (dude is jacked, come on). I wrote this with a chubby!reader in mind!

Notes: I’m actually possessed. I love him so much my brain is exploding with him 💚

You won’t lie—you’re a bit uncomfortable as you step out of the small tent. More than a bit. It’s hard to not immediately cover yourself as you walk from the makeshift changing room down to where your friends are on the beach.

It’s not that you hate wearing bathing suits, and you definitely don’t hate this one. It’s probably the cutest you’ve owned. It’s just… showy.

Bright green against your sunscreen-lathered skin, the top ties in the front like a tiny corset, pushing your breasts together and offering a considerable view of cleavage. The bottoms are similar with ties criss-crossing over your hips. They ride up just enough to accentuate the swell of your ass, but it’s the way those curves lead down to your thick thighs that leaves you self-conscious—the flesh that the elastic presses against.

You feel pudgy and thick and chubby, and you’re just waiting for someone to point and laugh.

But you want to step out of your comfort zone. You want to be confident. For your boyfriend more than yourself.

He didn’t ask you to. Toma is too kind for that. But he has expressed how much he likes your body. You don’t quite understand it, but you’re extremely glad for it.

You drop your shorts and T-shirt on your designated towel, kick your sandals off, then slowly move toward the group, almost everyone in the middle of a disorganized game of volleyball. You doubt any of them actually know the real rules, only concerned with how hard they can hit the ball.

A few turn and take notice of you. Kiryu grins kindly. Kaji, sucker in his mouth, raises his eyebrows before turning back to the net. You think his lips curve into a little smile around the candy. Sakura, unsurprisingly, turns beat red and spins all the way around to avoid looking at you.

And Toma, your sweet, sweet Toma, does a double take just in time for Umemiya to spike the ball right at him. It lobs him in the side of the head which would usually make him shout and launch himself at the other man, but he just lets it bounce off of him while he stares dumbly at your approaching form.

You’re still giggling when you meet him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Your insecurities were obviously for nothing.

“You like?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice.

He nods quickly, eyes still wide as his hands find your hips and squeeze.

“Understatement of the fuckin’ century.”

Toma isn’t typically the PDA type, but he presses himself against you, his body warm from the sun, and you gasp in surprise at the already forming bulge beneath his swim trunks.

“Toma, oh my god, are you serious?” you laugh.

“Shuddup—this is your fault.” He kisses you hard, kneading the fat at your hips that you had been so worried about. “Fuck, you really have no idea how sexy you are.”

“Hiragi, either get your head in the game or get off the court!” Tsubakino shouts, though when you glance toward him you can see him grinning.

“Go on,” you nod toward the net, “go play. I’ll watch from the sidelines.”

“Rather play with you instead.”

“Not in this sand, you won’t.”

He rolls his eyes, a little pout on his lips, and grumbles, “fine,” before kissing you again then returning to the game (if it can even be called that).

You take a seat next to Kotoha who looks stunning in her simple black 2 piece. She lowers her sunglasses, mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Well, that was something.”

You want to blame your full-body flush on the scorching sun, but you know better.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that,” she tells you.

You scoff, awkwardly finding a comfortable position while mumbling, “no idea why he’s so gobsmacked.”

Kotoha smacks your arm. “It’s ‘cause you’re hot, dummy!”

You’ve never been good at accepting compliments, only managing a quiet, “thanks.”

The book you had brought stays in your beach bag, forgotten when you opt to ogle your boyfriend. How could you not? He’s out there glistening with sweat, his hair down from the being soaked in saltwater. His biceps flex every time he makes contact with the ball, and his abs. God those abs, cut and drawing your eyes to the sharp V that leads into low-hanging trunks.

You want to suck at the skin under his naval, lick the sparse trail of undyed black hair. The pulse between your legs is embarrassing, as is the way you bite your lip.

“Good god, just go back to the cars and have a quickie,” Kotoha snorts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A quickie doesn’t sound like the worst idea, though. It would, however, be the most risqué thing the 2 of you have done.

You haven’t been dating Toma for a long time, a few months, and though you’ve had sex, you’re still in the ‘taking it slow’ phase of the relationship. Careful. Cautious. Still exploring.

You haven’t experienced him fast and rough, and you definitely haven’t experienced public sex with him.

But it sounds pretty nice right about now.

Shouts ring out from the game, and it must signal the end of a match because everyone disperses. Toma jogs over, and dear god, you can see his dick pressed against the fabric of his trunks, shifting with every stride.

You want to hide your face, but you can’t stop staring, even when he stops in front of you and bends to grab a water bottle. He takes a few gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, then pours the rest over his head.

How can someone who looks like that be so affected by you? You aren’t hideous by any means, but he is just… unbelievable.

“What?” he asks when he catches you looking, a little smirk tugging at his wet lips.

“Just admiring the view,” you respond honestly.

“Oh yeah?”

He extends a hand, easily pulling you to your feet then tugging harder so that you stumble into him.

“Nothin’ compared to you.”

You melt when he bends to kiss you, fingers digging into his shoulders, moaning softly when he pushes his tongue into your mouth.

Kotoha fakes a dry heave behind you, mumbles something you can’t decipher. Toma breaks away but stays close enough so that when he speaks his lips are still brushing against yours.

“I’m dyin’ to get you outta here.”

“Then let’s go.”

That’s all it takes for him to grab your wrist and start moving quickly, frantically, like he can’t wait another second.

Despite Kotoha’s suggestion, you don’t actually make it as far as the parking lot. Toma pulls you straight into the changing tent—thank god nobody is inside.

His hands are on your ass first, squeezing and massaging. He even lifts and drops your round cheeks just to feel them jiggle in his palms. The whole time, he’s devouring you, tongue pushed between your lips, probing and stroking. It’s impossible not to mewl for him. You can feel his hunger, how much he wants you. And you want him just as badly.

You grind against him, shorter than his 6’1” frame, causing his cock to rub against your tummy instead of your hips.

He groans, a low sound that sends shivers down your spine as your pussy starts to ache. Heat is pooling in your gut the same way your arousal pools in your bikini bottoms, and when Toma slips his hand down the front of them and dips between your folds, the noise he makes is more primal than the last.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so wet.” You whimper, wiggling your hips in a silent plea for him to get you out of your bathing suit.

Toma smiles against your lips, free hand finding one of the ties and pulling until they come loose, letting the material drop to the ground.

You make quick work of his trunks, panting while he kicks them off. The risk crosses your mind again—anyone could open the small tent and see the 2 of you—but Toma slides one long finger into your hole, and you forget about the potential consequences.

It just feels too good, digits thrusting in and out of your cunt, Toma huffing into your neck while pushing his cock against you in search of friction. You wrap your hand around him, stroking as well as you can without lube before realizing you have more than enough leaking from you.

Biting your lip, you dip your own hand between your thighs to gather the slick fluid that your boyfriend is milking from you. He grunts when he feels you, then lets out a broken sound when you spread your wetness over his length.

“Gonna make me cum before I even get inside you,” he chuckles, thrusting into your hand.

“Then maybe you should hurry up and get inside me.”

You squeal too loudly when he lifts you fully off the ground, situating you in his arms in a way that has his abs rubbing against your puffy folds. You gasp, shifting your hips a few times before reaching for his cock.

It’s an awkward angle and takes equal effort on both parts to line him up with your twitchy hole, but soon enough he’s pushing into you. The tip of his cock stretches you all on its own. Toma fucks into you, shallow at first, fat mushroom head catching on your spongy opening over and over again so that you bite his shoulder to stifle a moan.

Feeling your teeth digging into his flesh must do something for him because Toma shoves in further—further—until it feels like he’s nestled against your cervix.

God, you’re so full as you clench around him. Toma takes a second to breathe, kisses the side of your head, your arms wrapped around him, then starts rutting into you.

You’re at his mercy, bouncing up and down on his cock, doing all you can not to scream his name. He hits spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. You think you might even be able to feel the pulsing veins that decorate his shaft dragging against your walls. And, once again, you’re blessed with being able to grind against him, your slick, swollen clit sensitive as you smear it over that happy trail you love so much.

“Love it when you make a mess on me,” he growls, pounding into you. “You gonna cum all over me? Gonna cream on my cock?”

You nod, unable to speak. His huge hands are spreading your ass cheeks, opening you up for him. You know if you had a better view you’d be able to see a ring of white around the base of his dick as shiny, sticky strands drip from your pussy.

Even though he’s doing all the work, it’s your legs that begin to tremble, toes curling, breaths getting shorter and shorter.

It’s the way he hits your g-spot with every movement, the way your now overstimulated clit can’t get away from coarse hair over taut skin.

“Fuck, fuck—Toma, I—”

“Cum for me, baby, wanna feel you squeezin’ my cock…”

You both groan at the same time when you seize around him, pushing more and more slick out of your pussy with every pulse, creating shamefully lewd noises.

Toma swears, the tendons in his neck straining as he throws his head back, “‘bout to fill you up—feel so good, fuck, fuck—”

His thrusts get sloppy as he hits his climax, hot ropes coating your insides, and he rides it out as the last waves of your own orgasm crash over you.

Chest heaving, Toma drops his head to kiss your breasts, sucking a mark just above the line of your top as he mutters breathlessly, “didn’t pay these the attention they deserve.”

You giggle, brain foggy and body light. “You paid plenty attention to what really mattered.”

Toma grins crookedly, “you mean this—” he thrusts his cock into you one last time, “—pretty little pussy?”

“Mmyes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

He gives you short, sweet kisses, both of you getting lost in something more heated, and it isn’t until his dick is soft inside of you that he pulls out and sets you back on the ground.

Returning to your friends and any beach games they’re playing is out of the question, and as you walk hand-in-hand with Toma, you shoot Kotoha a short text—Heading home early. Can you grab my bag when you leave?

To which she replies, sure. Have fun 😏

[yourbestbuddie]

So I was having a conversation with my friend about Eddie and Buck and Tommy (I sent her a theory I had and we were shooting thoughts back and forth), and eventually it evolved into a deep dive analysis of Eddies character and psyche (surprise surprise).

We got to the topic of Buck never really being the first choice.

Until this point the conversation had been anti-Tommy, and I said this, and my friend pointed out that Buck (as of now) wouldn’t be Eddie’s first choice either. We bounced that thought around for while before coming to the conclusion that Eddie’s first choice wouldn’t currently be Buck because he isn’t aware that Buck’s allowed to be his first choice. Eddie is, like, super repressed. He’s all into the idea of finding a wife so Christopher can have a mother. His father drilled all these ideals of ‘be a man’ into his mind since he was a child.

This man is obsessed with the idea of conventionalism. Buck being his first choice (even though he’s his best friend and the person who’s always there for him and keeping him grounded) isn’t nuclear, so he doesn’t allow himself to even consider the idea that Buck could be a first choice, hence the recurring plot of finding a girlfriend (because he wants Christopher to have a mother, and having a wife is conventional and nuclear, and generally expected when raising a kid).

But for Eddie, he never understands why his relationships don’t work (he finds problems with them pretty quickly, but he never gets the whole big picture). He has panic attacks whenever someone thinks Ana is his wife, and forget any of them ever moving in! EVERYTIME it’s brought up, and even when it HAPPENED he freaked out and shut it down.

Eddie doesn’t understand that he already has everyone he’s looking for in Buck. Someone who he can hang out with, someone who gets along with Christopher and be a parent to him. Buck is obviously very comfortable in the Diaz household, and in their dynamic. He cooks them dinner, he helps Chris with his homework, whenever he’s overwhelmed he goes to Eddie’s house. He feels safe there. And Eddie is completely fine with all of this. He wrote Buck into his fucking will as Christopher’s legal guardian after two years of knowing him.

Eddie is terrified of commitment until it comes to Buck.

And he’s too busy with his ideas of conventionalism and what’s been drilled into his head that he doesn’t see that everything he’s so obsessed with finding is right there beside him. More often than not he wouldn’t have to look more than six inches to his side because Bucks always standing practically on top of him.

He ends up sabotaging every relationship he’s in before it can get serious because he doesn’t want to be with them, but thinks he has to, for Christopher. In a roundabout way, Eddie’s first choice has always been Shannon. And I’m not even convinced he was ever in love with her. I do believe he loved her, that’s been shown time and time again, and the fact that he keeps looking for her in all these women, someone to be her for Christopher. He was in love with the idea of her. Someone who could be Christopher’s mother and who could be his wife.

But I genuinely don’t think that he was in love with her, and the fact that they keep digging her hole deeper and deeper when she’s been dead five seasons is an insult to eddies character because fuck he deserves to move on and accept the fact that she’s gone and he has other people in his life and Christopher’s who will support them. I think it made sense for his arc to have it be lasting, I mean that was his wife. He cared deeply for her. But he was going to go through with that divorce, and he was going to be okay without her being a constant in his life again. He accepted that fact before she ever came back into his life. I think they need to stop using her as a plot device and twisting her back into Eddie’s life every time he thinks he’s moved on.

So he thinks he has to fill this Shannon sized hole and is constantly looking for ways to do that without realizing that he doesn’t NEED to and he’ll be supported either way. He already does that with Buck, he just hasn’t realized yet.

He doesn’t think bucks an OPTION which is why until he has that realization buck WONT be an option. It’s like a little locked door in his mind and once he finds the key it’ll all unravel and he’ll realize what he’s been so closed off to even imagine the entirety of their friendship. Then he’ll freak out, but eventually he’ll chose buck because in a roundabout way he always DOES but this time it will be CERTAIN and it will finally all be clear to him.

Anyway, this is my two cents, I don’t care if you agree or disagree but this is what I’ve gathered from what I’ve seen on my screen, and I thought I’d share it.

[redd956]

(@urlocalwhumper)

hey dawg thanks for feeding us living weapon whumpee enjoyers

i know that generally the vibe for living weapon whumpees is like the stoic "unfeeling" supersoldier type, but how are we feelin about living weapon whumpees that are like. off the shits feral.

more of an attack dog than a super soldier, weapons of mass destruction built into them cybernetically, because their masters aren't looking for efficiency, they're looking to send a message. for everyone around to know that if you don't bow to their rule, they'll send their monster to destroy you and everything you hold dear.

(and ofc the "monster" themself is kept in a constant state of suffering so they're always agitated and the pain clouds their mind too much to question what they're doing and why)

I love the way you think!

I never really thought of that character trope as a living weapon, but you aren't lying, it would count. (My brother and I's ocs would count then Ig) Also ties into monster whumpees :D

Here's some ideas I bounced off of this

Guard Dog Whumpee

CW: Pet Whump Sorta, Classic, the whump community should bring these up more

Whumper having more than one, forcing them to compete with one another. The most brutal earns their medical treatment.

Dangerous whumpees who have to be muzzled and mitted because whumper doesn't have them under control fully. Gentle carewhumpers being able to coerce whumpee into muzzles.

Non-guard dog whumpees equally trapped under whumper's boot being terrified of the guard dog. Sharing space with one is like sleeping on the shore of alligator infested rivers.

Scarred whumpees with dangerous animalistic features bared, backed into a corner with a tail in between their legs. Caretaker is trying their best to appear nonthreatening.

A guard dog whumpee failing its job. It showed no fear to its enemies, but the same cannot be said as they returned home.

Monster Living Weapon Whumpee

Say that three times fast

While rampaging after whumper's enemies whumpee broke the device keeping them confined to whumper. Quickly a symbol of destruction becomes a confused, hurt, and whimpering creature.

Whumpee always thought they were uniquely a monster. Whumper told them so everyday, rewarding them for their monstrousness, telling them they're alone as a creature of evil. Whumpee always thought this until they met caretaker.

Monster whumpees that despite being living weapons show rage in their failures, and pride in their kills. They don't see that whumper's treatment of them is subpar, because they're "partners in crime" of course. Caretaker would never treat whumpee that way if they were their weapon.

Killing Machine

They know what they're capable of, and they don't want to be that

Maybe they wanna do things their way, maybe they're ashamed of being a killing machine. Whumper could care less.

Killing machine in disguise has been living the everyday life, perhaps even an extravagant one. Whumper found them out, and no one has seen whumpee since, until the destruction started.

Killer Machine Villain -> Supervillain meets Villain with the promise to make them more powerful -> Extra Murderous Killer Machine Villain (Unstable)

Robotic whumpee that is just doing what they're told. Whumper was great, whumper was life. Robotic whumpee who sees whumper returning home with the newest model. Whumper who won't stop boasting about how much more efficient and deadly the new one is.

[lumi-nescentt]

And There’s Nothing I’d Rather Do, I’m Stuck With You:

Pairing: Esteban Ocon x Reader

Warnings: Stupid nicknames, kind of enemies to lovers (reader doesn't like Esteban at first) and some swear words, other than that it's pure fluff

Words: 7.1k

Summary: Spending the holidays in a snowy cabin in the Canadian mountains sounds like the perfect plan. Unless you get stuck with the only person you hate and he's trying his hardest to make you like him.

A/N: Another story heavily inspired by my Christmas mood but this time it was "Snowed in Together" with Esteban and I (as always) got a bit carried away

Spending New Year’s in a cabin in Canada had seemed like a great idea at first, your best friend had convinced you to come with her by saying she’d pay for your part of the accommodation since she really didn’t want to be alone. 

In all honesty, you completely understood why she was a little nervous. Despite knowing Lance since the three of you were in kindergarten, they had only started dating a few weeks ago and this would be their first holiday trip as more than just friends. She was nervous that it would be a little awkward and she desperately needed the moral support. 

At first, you had thought that you’d be spending a week as the third wheel but your friend has assured you that Lance had also invited friends which only gave you one more reason to accept. It wasn’t everyday that you were offered a free stay in a fancy cabin in the middle of the mountains with 2 of your closest friends and potentially single people too. If your best friend and Lance could have a romantic New Years getaway, you wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to experience it either. 

You didn’t know all of Lance’s friends but from the people you knew, you were almost certain that you’d get along well with whoever showed up. Well, almost certain because there was one single person that you didn’t want to see for a whole week and that was Esteban. 

It wasn’t that you particularly hated the Frenchman, he seemed like a nice person if you listened to everyone else who knew him, but your first meeting was still burned in the back of your mind. It had been one of the few Grand Prixs you had attended while still in college. 

You were barely 20 years old and seeing someone you had known practically your whole life in such an exclusive and elitist sport was hard to grasp, it was fascinating. You had been bouncing around the whole paddock from excitement and not knowing who you were, Esteban had laughed at you, making some stupid comment about how you looked like a fan girl. 

He hadn’t really meant it, he was still fairly new in this world and he didn’t really feel like he belonged. He thought that if he made himself seem tougher, even a little bit meaner, the nagging feeling of being a fraud would leave him. He hadn’t known that you were Lance’s friend. If he had known, he would have been more careful.

The moment Lance had introduced the two of you had happened a few hours after his comment and if he had hoped that you wouldn’t have heard his comment, the look on your face when you realised who he was told him the opposite. Esteban hadn’t realised it when you were further away from him but you were pretty, if he was honest with himself, you were probably one of the most gorgeous people he had ever met and that had made him nervous. 

Hoping to win you over, he had tried a joke when you talked about what you were studying in college but your face had contorted in a mix of confusion and hurt as soon as the words had left his mouth. Esteban knew what he had wanted to say wasn’t mean at all but in the translation, the meaning had lost itself and now he was sure you thought he was an ass. 

Over the years, he had tried to convince you that he had changed, that he wasn’t the 22 year old who thought putting people down was going to make him feel better about himself but it seemed like you were stuck on your first impression. You were never mean to him in any way but everyone could see the difference between your usual cheery and outgoing persona and the more reserved and sarcastic one only Esteban got to see. 

For these exact reasons, you really hoped that Esteban wouldn’t be part of this trip, or that if he was, he wouldn’t be the only friend invited so you could always hang out with someone other than him. 

Part of your wish was granted and if Esteban was in fact coming, Mick and his girlfriend were too so you wouldn’t be alone with him. Except in a way you would because you two were the only single people of the group and that would definitely be something you’d realise and be teased about for the whole week. 

The day you were supposed to go to the cabin had finally came and you were glad for the 3 hours drive you had on your own. You had now been well aware of Esteban’s presence for a few days and despite preparing yourself mentally, the last few hours of quiet were more than welcome to clear your head and convince yourself you could get through this. 

Wanting to be on time, you had left your house a bit early to avoid traffic and having to drive on twisty roads in the dark so you weren’t surprised to be the first one to arrive at all. You knew Mick and Laila were taking a plane so they’d arrive in the early hours of the morning and if there was something you knew about your best friend and Lance, it was that they usually arrived late to anything they had planned if they were together. 

You gladly took the time to visit the whole house and it was impossible not to gush at how beautiful it all was. You knew it had to have been expensive and you were half glad, half uncomfortable to know that you weren’t paying for any of it, your best friend was. You let yourself feel guilty for approximately 5 seconds before the feeling left you as you entered one of the rooms that was definitely going to be yours.

The view of the sunset over the snowy hills from the bedroom’s windows was simply breathtaking and everything looked so warm and cosy you couldn’t help but let yourself fall on the bed. You could have stayed forever laying on your side, looking at the snow falling on the balcony if it hadn’t been for the sound of a car door slamming. 

You rushed downstairs, silently hoping to see your best friend’s face but as you came into the living room full on running, you hit someone who was way too tall to be either Lance or the girl you had expected to see.

-“ I’ve never seen you this excited to see me so I’m assuming you were expecting someone else, chérie ?” Esteban smiled

-“ I thought Lance and Julia had arrived.” you answered matter of factly 

-“ Oh well, I’m afraid you’re going to wait a long time before seeing them…”

-“ What do you mean ?”

-“ Didn’t you get their texts ? On top of all the snow falling on the roads, there’s a tree that fell on the only road that comes up this part of the mountain so they probably won’t arrive before tomorrow at least.”

-“ Fuck, that sucks. I guess we don’t have cell reception so I must have missed it.” you sighed, looking at your phone only to see that you were in fact disconnected from the rest of the world

-“ Are Mick and Laila here already ?” he asked, looking around for signs of his other best friend

-“ Sorry to disappoint, it's just you and me. Their flight is supposed to land later tonight but if the road is impracticable then we won’t see them before tomorrow either.”

-“ I’m not disappointed. Contrary to what you might think, I happen to like your company, y/n.” Esteban smiled warmly at you, making you roll your eyes

-“ I’d love to say that the feeling’s mutual but I hate liars so tough luck.” you sarcastically answered with a fake smile and a shrug

-“ Come on, I can’t be that bad if you agreed to spend an entire week third wheeling not one but two couples with me.”

-“ First, I had no idea who was coming when I said yes so don’t flatter yourself and second, the main reason I’m here is because Julia needed me here and also paid for my part.” 

-“ Oh wow, okay. Well I’m glad you’re here still. No matter what the reasons are, I’m happy to see you.” he genuinely smiled, making you a tiny bit annoyed

-“ I don’t get you.”

-“ What do you mean ?”

-“ No matter how cold I am to you, you’re always like that. Always smiling at me and saying you appreciate me when I’ve done nothing to make you think that or deserve it.” you shook your head in disbelief

-“ I know you don’t particularly like me but I see the way you are with others and if being nice to you is going to get you to treat me like that someday then I don’t see why I wouldn’t want to try.”

-“ Esteban, I’m going to say this once so you better listen to me carefully because I won’t repeat myself.” you sighed as Esteban nodded, his full attention on you “You might be the most infuriating human being I’ve had to meet but that was actually quite sweet.” 

-“ Are you sure you won’t say it again ? What if I wanted to record it to listen to it later ?”

-“ Are you really that desperate to hear nice things about yourself ?”

-“ Only when it comes from you, chérie.” he smiled, cheekily winking at you

-“ That’s it, I’ve used all my Esteban battery for the day. I’m going to my room, enjoy the empty house, croissant man.” you declared before escaping upstairs as Esteban’s laugh filled the empty house

Trying to forget about the fact you had to spend the night alone with him, you decided to just go watch TV in your room, hoping to make time pass faster if you just got busy and ignored him. You had no idea what Esteban was doing but since you hadn’t heard him come up, you assumed he stayed downstairs and did the same as you to pass time. 

You were in the middle of your movie when everything went down out of nowhere. In a matter of seconds, you were in pitch black with no source of light apart from your phone. After thinking about it for a second, you decided that going to see Esteban was probably a wise idea, maybe he knew where the electrical panel was so you slowly made your way downstairs, trying not to fall down the stairs while calling his name.

-“ Esteban ?” you tried for the third time

-“ I’m here !” he shouted from what you assumed was the garage

-“ Did you find something ?” you asked once you were next to him

-“ Nope, I can’t find the panel and it seems like the house doesn’t have any candles or flashlights so this is all we have.” he sighed, pointing at their phones

-“ Shit, that sucks because I have like 25% of battery left so my phone isn’t going to last long.” 

-“ My battery’s almost full so we can share.” 

-“ Thanks.” you smiled at him before realising something “ What are we going to eat now that there’s no power ?” 

-“ We’re set for tonight cause I managed to make dinner before the power went out and it’s still in the oven so it should be warm enough. We’re lucky Lance had the fridge and the pantries stocked before we came in otherwise this would have been a disaster.” 

-“ You made dinner ?” 

-“ Yeah, that’s what I said, y/n.”

-“ I’m impressed.” 

-“ What, you didn’t think I could cook ?” Esteban scoffed, ready for another one of your comments

-“ No I just didn’t expect you to cook for the both of us so thank you.” 

-“ That’s it ? No teasing ?” 

-“ I haven’t eaten it yet so don’t think you’re safe yet. I expect a lot from you since your country is known for its cuisine.” you smiled sarcastically

-“ Well I’m no chef but I hope it’s still to your liking.” he just smiled back, motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen

You couldn’t lie, when Esteban said he had cooked, you expected something edible at best but what he had made was actually good. Lasagna wasn’t particularly hard to make but you still appreciated the thought and the time he had spent cooking so you refrained from commenting and just thanked him again. 

It was a bit weird to have to make conversation with Esteban alone but it was either that or stay in complete silence and that would have been way too awkward. Plus if you were honest, talking with him was actually pretty nice when neither of you were teasing the other. 

You both were so lost in your conversation that you didn’t realise how much time had passed before your phone’s flashlight suddenly turned off as your phone died. Taking this as a sign to go to bed, you started to put the dishes in the sink and before you could wish him good night, Esteban was proposing to walk you to your room since he was the only one with a light.

It felt strange to have him walk you to your door but his presence was calming and you were glad not to be walking in complete darkness alone. When you reached your door, you opened it before turning around to thank him and wish him good night but he seemed lost in his thoughts, wondering if he should speak up about something or not.

-“ Spit it out big boy, what do you want to say ?” 

-“ Come sleep with me.” he said calmly

-“ What ?” you uttered in complete shock

-“ I don’t mean that in a weird way. Your room seems way too cold to sleep in without catching something and I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing you’re freezing alone when I know for a fact that my room is warmer.” 

-“ It’s not that bad, I just went on the balcony for a while and since I was scared to get locked out I let the door open a bit but it’ll warm up. There’s no need for us to sleep in the same room.” you tried, hoping he wouldn’t be as stubborn as he usually was

-“ Unless the electricity is back pretty soon, the temperature is going to keep dropping, y/n. The other rooms are on the first floor so they’re colder, otherwise I would have told you to go there but my room is the warmest, that’s just a fact.”

-“ I hate it when you’re right, let me just take my stuff and change.” you finally caved in, knowing you would definitely catch a cold if you stayed there

-“ Thank you, I promise you I won’t make it weird.” 

After changing into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, earning you a confused glance from Esteban, you followed him to his bedroom, noticing that it was in fact, warmer than yours. Esteban let you pick your side of the bed and quickly changed into his pyjamas. You hoped the light hadn’t hit your face when he did because despite not particularly liking him, you couldn’t deny that he had a very nice body. And a very nice smile that you mostly tried to ignore. 

Esteban didn’t say a thing when he settled under the covers and found the pillow barrier you had formed in the middle of the bed but he couldn’t help the snicker that escaped his mouth. Once you were both settled, Esteban turned off his flashlight and everything was suddenly dark and quiet. Every little noise seemed heightened and you couldn’t help but notice that Esteban was breathing a little fast. Deciding that you didn’t want to know why, you tried to focus on falling asleep but despite the duvet, you were a bit cold and it kept you awake and shivering.

-“ Are you asleep ?” Esteban whispered after a while

-“ No.” 

-“ Can I remove the pillow barrier ?” 

-“ Why ?” 

-“ It’s in my way.” he only said

-“ Sure, go on.” 

-“ Thanks. I think you should come closer too.” 

-“ Why would I want to do that ?” you answered a little harsher than you meant

-“ You’ve been shivering this whole time and groaning when if you just came closer you’d be warmer.” 

-“ ‘m not cold.” you lied, burying yourself under the covers

-“ Chérie, we’re sleeping on the same mattress, I can feel everytime you move so don’t lie.” 

-“ Maybe I’m a little bit cold but I don’t see how getting closer will help.” 

-“ Just get closer, I promise you you’ll be warmer.” 

-“ What will you do if I don’t ?” you dared him, feeling the atmosphere change

-“ You’re so stubborn sometimes, it’s almost endearing.” Esteban sighed before sneaking his arm around your waist and dragging you towards him, your back hitting his chest

-“ ESTEBAN !” you screeched before feeling the warmth emanating from him “ Oh.” 

-“ Told you so.” he just grinned

-“ You’re so annoying.” 

-“ Maybe but at least now you’re warm.” 

-“ Whatever, now let me sleep you abnormally warm lanky human.” 

-“ Lanky ? Me ?” Esteban exclaimed before adding “ I’d take tall but you must be blind if you think I’m lanky.” he muttered under his breath

-“ Stop bragging about your muscles baguette man, some of us aren’t blessed genetically or have to be ripped as a job.” you said, stifling a laugh

-“ So you think I’m hot ?” 

-“ Is that all you got from what I said ?” 

-“ No but that’s what I’ll remember.” 

-“ You’re insufferable. Don’t think about telling anyone about this, they won’t believe you anyway.” 

-“ I know but knowing you think I’m hot is enough. I get to tease you about it all I want now.” 

-“ I take back everything I said.” you muttered, earning a laugh from the Frenchman behind you

-“ Too late for that. You’re stuck with me now.” 

-“ I didn’t say I liked you, calm down.”

-“ I know but you’ve been smiling this whole time so I take it I’m on the right path.” 

-“ How do you know what face I’m making right now ? It's pitch black.” 

-“ You can hear it in your voice when you smile.” he simply explained

-“ Be careful, I might start thinking you actually fancy me or something, Esteban.” 

-“ Would that be so bad ?” he whispered making your heart race suddenly

-“ You don’t know what you’re saying, you must be too tired. We should sleep.” you blurted feeling your cheeks burning

-“ If that comforts you.” Esteban sighed, knowing he would have to work harder if he wanted you to believe him “Good night, y/n.”

-“ Good night, cheese man.” you answered, making him laugh. The both of you falling asleep with a smile on your face. 

When you woke up the next day, the sun was already up and so was Esteban, leaving an empty space in the bed next to you. Almost mechanically, you headed towards the bathroom, turning on the light as a habit but nothing happened. Groaning in response, you decided that the whole floor seemed quiet enough for you to use the bathroom with the door slightly opened. 

Once you were done, you headed downstairs to look for Esteban but it seemed like he was nowhere to be found either so you resorted to getting yourself something to eat in the kitchen in the meantime. You were pretty much stranded here so he would come back inside at some point.

Sitting at the dining table and looking outside, you suddenly noticed the man you had been looking for. Esteban was standing with a shovel in his hands, removing the snow from the terrace and what looked like a hot tub. When he raised his head and his eyes met yours, he simply smiled and waved before getting back to work, only coming back inside when he was done.

-“ Good morning, chérie.” he smiled, ruffling his hair after removing his beanie. “Did you sleep well ?” 

-“ I did, thank you. How long have you been shovelling snow for ?” 

-“ About an hour, I think.” 

-“ You did all that in an hour ?” 

-“ Well yeah, it’s not that much and it was that or actually doing cardio going up and down the stairs since the treadmill doesn’t work.” 

-“ When you put it like that…” you snickered

-“ Oh, I almost forgot.” Esteban exclaimed, getting his phone out “I managed to get some service a little further up the hill so I texted Lance.”

-“ What did he say ?”

-“ Well first off, the road still isn’t cleared so they won’t be here today either and that also means we can’t leave. Him, Julia, Mick and Laila are at Lance’s for now but they’ll join us as soon as the road is cleared.”

-“ Shit that really sucks. Do they have an idea of when they’re going to clear it ?” 

-“ Normally tomorrow if there’s nothing more urgent coming up.”

-“ Ok we can push you through one more day, that’s fine.” 

-“ I’m sorry chérie, I know you were really looking forward to seeing everyone.” 

-“ It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” 

-“ While we’re on bad news, Lance said the power outage is general in the entire area but they’re working on it so there’s nothing we can do about it. He said to go hangout in one of our cars to charge our phones and warm up if it was needed because he has no idea where the panel is anyway.” 

-“ Is there any good news ? Anything even remotely positive so I don’t voluntarily choke on some snow or freeze to death ?” 

-“ That’s quite dramatic but yes there is. First off, we’re staying for 3 more days since the first 3 aren’t spent all together.”

-“ You said ‘first off’ so does that mean there’s other good news ?” you asked, hopefully

-“ Lance remembered where they kept the camping stove so we’re going to be able to eat something warm which is pretty nice.” 

-“ Esteban.” you said seriously, grabbing his face between your hands, his cheeks getting a subtle shade of pink “Are you telling me that we can make instant coffee with it too ?” 

-“ If we have some then yeah.” 

-“ Oh my God, that’s the best news you’ve ever told me.” you exclaimed, spontaneously hugging him before taking a step back out of shock, your face all red “ Sorry, I didn’t know coffee made me this excited.”

-“ No apologies needed. I’ll get it out for you so you can have your coffee.” Esteban answered with his face just as red before escaping to the garage to look for the stove

After the hug incident, you tried to keep your distance with the Frenchman and entertained yourself as best as you could on your own. After reading half of the book you had wanted to last for the whole week, you caved in and decided to go see if Esteban wanted to play some board games. 

When you reached the living room, a delicious smell filled your nose and you quickly followed it to the kitchen, finding Esteban cooking something that looked like some sort of soup. He was so focused on what he was making that he didn’t notice you standing in the doorway watching him until he poured what he had made into two bowls and raised his head, ready to call you over for lunch. 

-“ Fuck, you scared me.” Esteban exclaimed with his hand over his heart

-“ Sorry, I didn’t mean to. You seemed busy so I didn’t want to bother you.” 

-“ Have you been standing there for long ?”

-“ Nah, I just came down to ask you something and followed the scent here. What did you make this time ?” 

-“ Onion soup. It’s nothing fancy but I figured we could use something to warm up a bit.” 

-“ If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m going to love it.” you reassured him before teasing “Be careful though, if I like it I might expect you to make it again and then you’ll just have to spend every minute of your free time cooking for me.” 

-“ Don’t threaten me with a good time, y/n.” Esteban retorqued before sliding one of the bowls over to you and sitting on the stool next to where you were standing

It was another meal spent talking about yourselves and getting to know each other better. You hated to admit it but everyone had been right, Esteban was a lovely guy. He was funny, kind and he paid attention to everything you rambled passionately about, even asking follow up questions, seeming genuinely interested in everything you told him. 

Maybe you didn’t entirely notice it but Esteban could definitely tell that you were warming up to him. You were sharing stories about your childhood, your college days and the more he learnt, the more he found to like.  Every time you laughed, you were slightly hunching over, your body getting closer to his and he swore he could feel his skin burn where your knees were touching. 

Convincing Esteban to play board games with you had been incredibly easy and the afternoon was spent in laughs and healthy competition, no matter what games you played. The whole afternoon had almost made you forget about the power outage but as the sun started setting down, reality caught up to you and just like the temperature outside was dropping, you could feel yourself getting colder. 

Not wanting to ruin the moment, you didn’t say anything. You’d soon be in complete darkness so you would have rather played games while being a little cold than having to move and waste some time when you could have been having fun. 

Despite your attempt at hiding it, Esteban saw you shivering and grabbed a blanket behind him on the couch before wrapping it around your shoulders. The gesture was so sweet and delicate, you couldn’t help but blush and look away from his face quickly which only made him smile warmly. Noticing him shivering too, you snuggled closer to him and wrapped the blanket over the two of you. 

The blanket wasn’t that big so you had to shuffle around a bit before finding a comfortable position where the both of you were covered by it. Esteban’s arm was around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him as your head rested comfortably on his shoulder. 

The game was long forgotten as you cuddled against each other, watching the sun disappear behind the snowy peaks in the orange sky. No one spoke before it finally turned dark until Esteban suddenly stood up and offered you his hand. Once you grabbed it, he guided you to your bedroom, telling you to grab some warm clothes and your phone charger before meeting him downstairs. 

When you met him in front of the door, Esteban had just came back inside and without another explanation, he asked you to put on your coat and your snow boots, waiting with a giddy smile. His enthusiasm was contagious and you couldn’t help but smile as you followed him outside to his car. He opened up the passenger door for you before running towards his side, almost slipping in the snow in the process. 

-“ Surprise !” he smiled, opening his arms towards the backseat where sat a blanket, some pillows, a bag full of snacks and what looked like Esteban’s laptop

-“ What’s all this ?”  

-“ Well I thought that instead of just waiting to get tired in this cold house we could have a little movie night and just head back in when we’re tired. You can totally go back inside and do your thing if you want to, I just thought this could be a nice way to make time pass.” Esteban admitted the last part with a shy smile

-“ It’s lovely Esteban, thank you.” 

-“ Really ? You like it ?” 

-“ Yeah of course, it’s really thoughtful. It almost makes me feel bad for not doing anything, you’ve cooked for me twice and planned this, I feel like I have to repay you somehow.” 

-“ Don’t worry about it, I like doing this for you. Plus it gives me an excuse to spend time with you.” 

-“ Since when do you need an excuse to do that ? No matter how much I pushed you away, you were always there.” 

-“ Yeah but it’s different now.” Esteban almost whispered, looking at his hands

-“ How ?”

-“ Well, you know I like you now…” 

-“ Oh, do I ?” you teased him with a grin, making him raise his head again to look at you with a knowing grin

-“ That’s what I was implying yesterday but I guess I can say it again now. I like you, y/n. Happy ?”

-“ Yes, very actually. Can we start the movie now ? I’m kinda hungry and I want to eat in front of it.” you smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours before climbing to the back seat, quickly followed by Esteban. 

As sweet as Esteban’s idea had been, the logistics of it hadn’t really been taken into account and settling comfortably on the backseat with a 6 foot 2 quite broad human wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Especially when you added a bag full of snacks and a laptop that had to be seen by the both of you. 

You had proposed to sit on the floor between the seats but Esteban had immediately refused, proposing to do it himself. Seeing him try to wrestle in the tight space had made the both of you laugh but you realised it was impossible for him to fit in such a confined space. 

In the end, the only way you managed to settle comfortably was by sitting on Esteban’s lap with your back to his chest as you two stretched your legs on the backseat. Esteban’s head was resting on a pillow propped on the window and your head was on his chest, feeling his breath slightly tickling the back of your head. 

Despite being sat in a car in the middle of nowhere in December, you felt quite warm tightly snuggled between the blanket and Esteban’s warm body. Soon enough, the movie you had put on and Esteban’s steady breathing became background noise and your eyes became more heavy as you drifted to sleep. 

Esteban realised it quickly when you didn’t laugh at one of the jokes and he tried his best to stay still and not make too much noise not to wake you. It seemed like the strange setting didn’t bother you at all as you turned around slightly and wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head against his chest in your sleep. Esteban stayed completely still for a few seconds before warming up to the contact and wrapping his arm around you in a hug.

Once the movie was over, Esteban debated if he should wake you immediately or wait for you to wake up naturally. Deciding that as comfortable as it felt right now, sleeping in this position would probably hurt your back or your neck, Esteban slowly dragged his hand up and down your arm, trying to wake you up. The only answer he got was a groan as you tried to hide your face in his chest.

-“ I know you’re comfy here but I promise you the bed is better chérie.” Esteban chuckled at your behaviour

-“ Don’t care. I don’t want to move, you’re very comfortable. And very warm.” you mumbled against him

-“ I promise you we can do that in bed too. It’ll be even more comfortable and you’ll be able to wrap yourself around me even more.” 

-“ Promise ?” 

-“ I promise you. But I can’t help you get ready to go out if you don’t move, I’m sorry sweetheart.” 

-“ Okay then, let’s go to bed, cheese man.” you declared before pushing yourself off his chest and staring at him for a second “Your face is really pretty. Has anyone ever told you that ?” 

-“ Not really, thank you though. Now come on you little koala, let’s get inside.”

Groaning one last time for principle only, you finally detached yourself from him and put your shoes and coat on, grabbing your phone who had been charging as Esteban gathered the rest of his stuff too. Since you still seemed a little asleep, he decided that leaving everything he had brought in the car would be safer if you needed to hold onto him while walking in the snow.

Esteban’s decision proved to be the right one as only a few steps out of the car, you slipped and almost fell, being caught by Esteban at the last second. The hand that had stopped you from falling a few seconds ago found yours and you slowly intertwined your fingers together, looking at Esteban intently. Your faces were close and the little clouds of smoke escaping your mouths were almost one. Looking through your lashes, you finally cut the silence.

-“ I really want to kiss you right now.” 

-“ I’m so glad you just said that.” Esteban smiled before smashing his lips onto yours

Your hands came to cup his cheeks as the kiss intensified and his settled on your hips, bringing you closer to him in the process. The kiss was strong and despite how fiercely you were kissing him back, you still found yourself slowly taking a few steps back until you hit the car, making you jump slightly. 

That seemed to put an end to the moment and as you separated from each other and realised what had happened, you couldn’t help but laugh, Esteban quickly joining you. The two of you stood in the cold, laughing until your cheeks were slightly stinging because of the cold and Esteban finally dragged you back inside. 

Lying into bed together felt different after the kiss and Esteban sat awkwardly on the bed for a second before you patted the spot next to you with a smile and he settled down next to you. As soon as Esteban stopped moving around, you got closer to him and wrapped yourself around him like you had done in the car, making sure he honoured his promise. 

This time, Esteban didn’t hesitate and his hands naturally went back around you, one arm around your waist and the other hand tracing patterns on your thighs, soothing you to sleep. Any other thoughts left your head and all you could think about was how good and warm sleeping like this felt. It seemed like Esteban felt the same as he fell asleep first, you joined him quickly after placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

The next morning when you woke up, Esteban was still there, his arms wrapped around you like they were when you had fallen asleep a few hours ago. The sun was shining outside, softly illuminating the room and casting a yellow glow all over it. Enjoying the warmth of the moment, you closed your eyes for a second, stretching your limbs before raising your head to look at the boy beneath you, finding him already staring at you.

-“ Why are you staring at me like that ?” you laughed, softly brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead

-“ It’s not everyday I have a pretty girl all curled up against me, so I’m enjoying the view.” 

-“ Was that an attempt at flirting, Esteban ?” 

-“ I was just telling the truth, so take it like you want.” 

-“ I still can’t believe you like me.” you scoffed, hiding your face against his chest

-“ I thought I made it pretty obvious. At least obvious enough for Lance and Mick to realise it.” 

-“ Do you remember the first time we met ?” you asked, resting your head on the back of your hands

-“ Of course, I do. I made a terrible first impression.”

-“ Wasn’t your best moment, that’s for sure.” 

-“ I’m so sorry again. I know it was years ago but I don’t think I ever had the chance to apologise properly. I never meant to come off as mean and if I did, you didn’t deserve any of it.”

-“ I can’t be mad at you forever, can I ? Plus, how can I say no to such a pretty face.” you smiled, pinching his cheek

-“ You did not just pinch my cheek.” 

-“ I did, actually. What are you going to do about it ?” 

-“ You’re going to regret that.” Esteban laughed before his fingers went straight for your ribs, tickling you

You couldn’t help but screech and wiggle, quickly finding yourself sliding off Esteban to rest on the other side of the bed with the Frenchman hovering over your body, caging you between his elbows. Before he could resume his attack, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, catching him by surprise. 

-“ That’s so not fair.” Esteban grumbled, slightly pulling away from the kiss, his face only a few inches above yours

-“ What ?” 

-“ You can’t just kiss me whenever you want just to distract me and get what you want.” 

-“ Why ? It’s my favourite way to shut you up. Plus, it’s so fun to see you all flustered afterwards.” 

-“ I’m not flustered.” he denied, trying to sound convincing

-“ Your heart is beating really fast and your face is quite red, I wonder why that is…” 

-“ It’s just hot in here, that’s all.” 

-“ Oh well, if it’s hot I should probably get away from you a little so you can get some air.” you winked before trying to sneak away from under him

-“ No no, I didn’t say that. Stay here please” Esteban quickly said, wrapping his arms around your waist and shifting around so he was now laying on top of you 

-“ It’s not like I have a choice now anyway.” you laughed before settling your hands in his hair, playing with a few strands 

-“ Oh God. Don’t do that.” Esteban almost moaned at the feeling of your nails itching his scalp

-“ I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong ?” you quickly asked, removing your hands from his hair

-“ No, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, please keep going. I just meant that if you do that I’m most definitely not moving for a long time.”

-“ That’s fine with me. I have one condition though.” you said, making his raise his head to look at you properly

-“ Sure, what is it ?” 

-“ Kiss me.”

-“ I definitely won’t say no to that.” Esteban laughed before complying and pressing his lips against you in an affectionate kiss

You spent a few minutes just kissing each other without a care in the world, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything around you. Like the power coming back or the distinct sound of two cars pulling up the road. So when the door to Esteban’s bedroom burst open and Julia literally screamed, the two of you separated from each other like teenagers who had just been caught making out by their parents. 

-“ There’s no way.” Julia said before sticking her head out in the hallway and yelling “Lance I owe you twenty dollars.” 

Before you could react to what she had just said, Lance arrived right behind your best friend, a bit confused.

-“ Why would you owe me– Oh. Hello to you two lovebirds.” Lance cheekily smiled, winking at Esteban who just hid his face against your chest as you felt his face grow hot

-“ Hello Lancelot.” you sarcastically smiled, knowing he hated the nickname “Could the two of you get out and close the door on your way out, please ? We were kinda having a moment before you came in and ruined it.” 

-“ Damn, happy to see you too girl.” Julia laughed before grabbing Lance’s hand and dragging away, adding something on her way out “I want all the details when you’re done kissing him, okay ?”

-“ Sure, now go please. I’d like to get back to what we were doing, thank you.” 

Once the door finally closed and you could hear Lance’s laugh getting further away, Esteban propped himself up on his elbows to look at you with a ginormous smile on his face.

-“ What ? I’m not sorry I kicked them out, I wasn’t done kissing you.” you replied seriously 

-“ You’re awesome.” Esteban just said before going back to kissing you, feeling you smile against his lips

Once you were finally ready to face the rest of the group, the two of you went downstairs. Before Esteban could shy away, you wrapped your hand in his and smiled sincerely as you entered the kitchen where everyone was standing, throwing out the food that had gone bad and refilling the fridge with fresh stuff. 

-“ Hey you two.” Mick smiled, tearing himself off Laila to plant a kiss on your cheek and give a hug to Esteban before going back to his spot as Laila did the same

-“ Are we going to mention the elephant in the room or…” Julia asked, making everyone laughed

-“ Esteban and I kiss now, what more is there to say ? If it bothers anyone, just deal with it because unless he doesn’t want to anymore, I’m not planning on stopping myself from kissing him.”

-“ No one has a problem with it, we’re happy for you.” Mick smiled as Laila nodded

-“ It was about time anyway.” Lance snorted, earning an elbow in the ribs from Esteban

-“ Can we stop talking about us, now ? I would like to have breakfast actually.” Esteban grumbled as his stomach made a loud noise

-“ I’m not done talking about it but go on, help yourself we brought doughnuts.” Julia motionned to the red Tim Hortons box on the kitchen counter “So are you guys dating now or what ?” 

-“ We haven’t really talked about it.” Esteban admitted between bites of his doughnut

-“ What are you waiting for mate ?” Lance said with a smile

-“ Esteban ?” you cut the conversation short and brought the attention back on you

-“ Yes ?” 

-“ Do you want to be my boyfriend ?” you asked seriously, making Mick snort at your bluntness

-“ I– Uhm… Yeah of course.” Esteban stuttered as his face flushed

-“ Great, thank you baby.” you smiled brightly, getting on your tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek “Now we can move on to other subjects and enjoy this holiday normally.”

-“ Sure but I think you broke him.” Mick laughed, pointing at Esteban who was staring at you with his eyes wide opened, his hand touching the cheek you had just kissed

-“ He’ll get over it. Now come on, you said you’d show me the video of Gina’s new horse.” you motioned for Mick to follow you into the living room, leaving Julia, Lance and Esteban alone in the kitchen

Esteban stared into the void for a few more seconds before snapping back to reality and taking another back of his doughnut, ignoring the couple laughing at him as he made a cup of coffee for you and one for him. If you kept surprising him like that, he wasn’t sure he’d last the whole trip but at least he’d die a happy man with the girl he had pinned over for years finally in his arms.

[stellocchia]

The idea of Killer's Stage 3 being the exact opposite of Stage 4 has been bouncing around in my brain for a while.

Stage 3 is the one we know the least about in terms of canon, so I will say that my interpretation of it is just a headcanon. To me, Stage 3 takes on a protector role toward the others. Stage 3 is also the most in tune with the body's instincts. The reason why it's so violent is that, due to Something New Chara's, Something New Player's, and Nightmare's abuse, it registers everyone around it as an immediate threat to its life.

Now, Stage 4 is the end result of what Chara and the Player wanted. Completely obedient, violent, and something entirely separate from Sans (though that last one is not entirely correct, all three of them are convinced of it). It is almost entirely detached from its instincts. It only acts based on the orders it has been given by whoever it recognizes as its owner. It's so violent exclusively because that's how it was conditioned to be by its owners.

Already from that, it's obvious that they're diametrically opposed, but to me, the most interesting facet of it is their relationship with those they consider to have a certain level of authority over them.

Stage 3 is full of spite and rage and will maul whoever has authority over it. And that's not because it's a beast incapable of thinking or anything of the sort. It's because, out of all the Stages, Stage 3 is the only one who is not in denial about the abuse they suffered. Stage 3 recognizes that those with authority over them have always misused that authority to hurt them all. And it sees no point in downplaying that like Stage 1 or 2 would, either out of fear and self-loathing (I have no doubt that Stage 1 often feels as if he deserved all of that) or out of a dislike of being perceived as weak.

For Stage 3, all the issues are external and should be dealt with appropriately.

Stage 4 is full of reverence for those above it. They're the closest thing to a God it will ever worship. This too is a defence mechanism. It helps keep it detached from itself, as everything that would usually cross its moral boundaries and cause it guilt can be reasoned away to be the will of the Players and the will of the Owners (those two are distinct categories as the Players are above the Owners in importance and power). They're beings of unfathomable power with control over the very fabric of existence, so of course displeasing them would be unthinkable, let alone defying them.

Stage 4 is trapped thinking that, wherever it goes, the Players will follow and watch its every move. It is never free and, therefore, can never step out of line.

If they could interact with each other I don't know how it would end, but Stage 4's mind would be blown by the fact that Stage 3 has never actually been punished for its defiant behavior...

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (8)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.5K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: Please note the updated warnings. These next few chapters are a new stage of Bradley and Pumpkin growing back together, and while I'm very excited about it, I know it may not be for everyone. For everyone who sticks around, please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

-------

You’re working today. You hadn’t wanted to, but a local congresswoman you had requested an interview with months ago finally agreed to a conversation in her office, and Bradley wouldn’t let you pass it up. It was only for a few hours, but he finds himself missing you while you’re gone. 

This is the first time he had really been alone in the house for a long period of time since he got back from the hospital a month ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had tried to read a book, or get lost in a movie, but nothing had really kept his attention. He was laying on the couch, the news on the tv in the background, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t fully dove into all that it contained, and he figured now was the time to do it, even if you weren’t here to answer any questions that he might have. 

It’s interesting, seeing himself this way. Groupchats where he was an active participant, talking about parties or plans he has no recollection of, or discussing flight schedules for the week. He swaps Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia with Fanboy and gym regimes with Hangman and sends music back and forth with Coyote.  

When he opens the text thread he has with you, the only one pinned to the top of his messages, his breath catches at the last message received. 

 I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

It was sent the day of his accident, and he knew by the time stamp that it was sent after the crash. You must have texted that to him while you were waiting for news on his condition, and not for the first time, he feels both guilt and gratitude go through him; he’s so sorry that he’s hurt you like this, but he’s so glad he’s here now. 

He scrolls for a while, reading you rambling to him about your work day and bouncing ideas for articles off of him, jumping from one topic to the next while you know he’s in the air or teaching a class so he doesn’t have his phone on him. Based on his responses that come later on, he knows he never minded the almost nonsensical messages. Even now, he finds it adorable and enjoys reading through them. There are conversations about dinner and what true crime documentary the two of you were going to watch that weekend. 

There’s a little bit of everything in these messages between the two of you, but his brow furrows when he gets to a point about a week before his accident. 

I’m on my way home, he had texted you, You better be ready for me, Pumpkin. 

He scrolls further up, trying to find the beginning of the conversation that led to that, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t have. 

You had texted him earlier that morning, when he barely must have left the house to go to base, a picture of you. There was a playful smirk on your lips, and you had what looked to be the cap from his formal dress whites perched crooked on your head. That in and of itself wasn’t what made his breath hitch, though. It was the fact that you were still in bed, your arm draped over your chest where he could see everything but everything, you hanging onto only a single shred of decency. 

Fly well today, Lieutenant Commander. 

It had descended into a day full of teasing from there, each message dirtier than the one before. Descriptions of what you wanted him to do to you and him warning you of what he would do when he got his hands on you. He feels flushed all over, but he keeps scrolling up. He bypasses recipes you wanted his opinion on and a reminder of what the Hulu password was, and eventually finds more pictures. Some are more risque than others, but all of them make him feel like the temperature in the room rose by multiple degrees. 

There’s a tickle in his brain again, and he finds himself closing the messaging app and going to his photo albums. There’s a locked album there, and he knows, he just knows what it’s going to contain. 

He shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t. It feels like a strange invasion of privacy. But he’s wracking his mind to try and remember what the code would be to get into it anyway, and he curses when he gets it wrong first once, then a second time. He enters your birthday on the third attempt and groans out loud when he’s immediately met with the filthiest images he’s ever seen. 

It’s a whole gallery of you, or the two of you together, and Bradley can’t stop himself from looking. He bites his lip as he takes in the photos, his mind so overrun with thoughts of how fucking stunning you are that he can barely think straight at all. 

He stops at one in particular, clicking to enlarge it, and loses all thoughts entirely. Neither of your faces are in it, but he doesn’t need to guess that it’s the two of you. You’re sitting back against his chest, his ankles hooked over your legs, forcing them wide for him. He can see your nails biting into his thighs, but it’s his own hand that draws his attention. With the hand that’s not taking the selfie style photo, his fingers are gliding through the wetness gathered between your legs. You shine against the dark wedding band on his left land, one that’s noticeably absent from his finger now. He’s practically panting as he stares. 

He’s so hypnotized by the way the two of you look together that he doesn’t hear the garage door open or the sound of you walking into the house. 

“Baby?” 

Your voice makes him jump so high that his phone goes flying out of his hand, a curse leaving his lips. He scrambles to pick it up when he sees you reaching for it as well, and your eyebrows are raised high as you look at him in surprise. 

“Hey,” his voice cracks, higher pitched than normal, and he blushes. Your eyebrows raise a little bit higher. “Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yup,” he nods, faking a cough so he could try to clear his throat, his face flushed. “Totally fine.” 

It’s not difficult to see how skeptical you are, and it’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with you and not let his eyes flicker down your body now that he has an idea of what rests underneath the smart dress you wore. 

You eye him suspiciously, “Are you sure?”  

He contemplates for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this conversation, because the longer you looked at him like that the hotter he became under the collar. He took a deep breath, nodding again. 

“I was looking at messages and pictures,” he says all in one breath, not liking the idea of completely lying to you. He rationalized that a different version of the truth was okay, even as the pictures flashed in his mind again. “Trying to see if anything jogged my memory.” 

You search his eyes, and he tries his best to appear innocent, willing the hardening in his jeans to go down before you took notice. He suspected you already might have from the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Did it?” 

If he thought hard enough he swore he could almost feel you. Your back against his chest, how soft your inner thighs left. How warm your wetness felt against his fingers as he took you to the edge. 

“No,” he stutters out after a moment, shaking his head, his face burning, “nothing yet.” 

________

He finds himself rubbing his thumb against the fading tan line on his left ring finger, something he had seen you do time and time again. He hadn’t really wondered up until this point where his ring was, but ever since he saw the picture with it so clearly against your skin, he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

He’s helping you in the kitchen a few days later, mesmerized as always by how efficient and easy you made everything look. You roll your eyes when he comments on it.

“It’s cookies, Bradley. Nothing fancy.”

“But they’re from scratch. The dough isn’t pre-made. That’s fancy!” 

You laugh at him in response, shaking your head. You take the rings on your left hand off, sitting them beside the sink as you wash your hands before the two of you get started. It raises the subject back to the forefront of his mind. He had been desperate to ask you for the last few days, but hadn’t built up the courage to do it. But he can almost feel it on his finger now, can feel a ghost of your fingers as you slide it into place, and it’s suddenly more of a need to know. 

“Can I uh…can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“What happened to my wedding ring?” 

You pause from where you’re cracking an egg into the mixing bowl, your eyebrows raised high. You set it down gently, turning to face him. 

“Does it bother you…that I wear mine, still?” 

“No!” he insists, hating even the idea of you taking it off. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I promise. We just have never acknowledged mine? I know that I wear one - I remember wearing one, and I’ve seen it in pictures, too.” 

“You love your ring,” you tell him softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you give him a small smile, though he can see the pain in your eyes, and shake your head. 

“You don’t fly with it on,” you explain, “you tried, at first, but you had been flying so long without anything on your hands that you couldn’t get used to it being there when you were operating the controls.” 

He thinks for a moment and the words come to him slowly. “You were the one who told me to start taking it off when I fly.” 

“I was.” 

“Why?”

Your lips quirk and you shrug. “I’m more worried about you flying safely than wearing your ring at all times. You keep it in one of the pockets of your flight suit when you go up in the air now.” 

Of course you were more worried for him. He should have expected nothing less from you and the way you effortlessly care for him. He can also picture that, he thinks. It’s easy to imagine not wanting to be separated from the physical reminder that he belongs to you, so even if he couldn’t wear it, he’d at least have it on him, in the inner chest pocket right above his heart. 

“So..” He doesn’t quite know how to ask his question, but you must read it on his face. 

You twist your own ring on your finger in the way you always seemed to do to center yourself. Pain flashed across your face and Bradley knew you were remembering, too. “They uh..they had to cut your flight suit off, before you went into surgery. You weren’t breathing and were bleeding…” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the visual from your head. “But it was still in your pocket. So. I have it.” 

He sets down the bag of chocolate chips he had been holding and walks the few steps to where you’re standing at the counter. When he holds his arms open, you don’t hesitate to step into them. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he breathes in your scent. 

“I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he whispers into the strands of your hair, and he feels the way you squeeze him in response. 

“You’re okay now,” you speak into his chest, and he thinks he might feel you press a kiss there, directly over the spot where that inner pocket of his flight suit would be, where he kept you when he had no other choice. 

The two of you stand there wrapped up together for a long moment. When you lift your head, your eyes are glassy, but you give him a smile and a small kiss to his lips. 

Later, after the cookies have been made and devoured, you join him on the back porch. You had taken to sitting on the swing together and when you sit beside him tonight, he sees you rolling something between your fingers. His breath catches when he sees exactly what it is. You’re staring at it too, your gaze intense and pondering. He doesn’t speak, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually, you break out of your haze and meet his eyes. 

“You don’t have to put it back on,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him. His wedding band sits on your palm, shining against your skin. For a moment he sees you in white standing right in front of him, wildflowers in your hair.  

His fingertips brush yours when he takes it from you, admiring the piece of jewelry he wasn’t aware that he missed until it was back in his possession. 

“But it’s yours. I want - I want you to have it.”

He rolls it between his fingers, contemplating for a moment. He swallows, suddenly overcome with emotion he hadn’t seen coming and that tingling that’s starting to become familiar to him. You had picked it out yourself and he knows when he looks, he’ll see an engraving of your initials beside his. He was always so proud to be able to wear this, knowing that it symbolized being with you, a small way of telling anyone who saw it that he was lucky enough to be your husband. 

But he wasn’t him - not yet, not completely. Everyday brought him closer to thinking that he could be, though.

“Pumpkin, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and turning his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t look mad, or upset, and you’re giving him the gentlest, kindest look anyone ever had. But your eyes didn’t hold pity or sympathy either - just a trust and love that he’s still not sure what he could have ever done to deserve. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you never are-” 

“I will be,” he cut you off; he wanted nothing more than to be ready. “I just…I still have something to prove to myself.” 

You nod, and Bradley leans forward to kiss you softly. He leaves his forehead pressed against yours when he pulls away, relishing in the calm you brought him. 

“I’ll get there,” he says, “I promise.” 

—------

He’s spent time alone, but he hasn’t spent time away from you with other people. He’s hesitant to accept the invite from Mav to visit the hanger he had here. But planes and his godfather had been a staple of Bradley’s childhood, an influence on his whole life, really. He had been cleared to drive earlier in the week, so that Saturday, he leaves early. He’s anxious at the thought of being away from you but he knows that the him from before wouldn’t have said no to the invitation and he was so determined to get back to who that was. And he knows that you have a life outside of taking care of him, too. You’re getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife later and he knows you’re excited, even if you hung onto him a little bit longer than a normal hug when he said goodbye. You had made him promise that he would call you if he needed anything and the whole way to the desert, his fingers twitched, wanting to call you just to hear your voice. 

Mav greets him with a large smile and a tight hug, “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Me too,” Bradley says. He means it, even if he does miss you already. He looks around the hanger, taking note of the few planes and motorcycles throughout the long stretch. It was a lot more than the collection he had when Bradley was 17. “What are we working on today?” 

Mav gives him his signature grin. “I want to show you something.” 

He follows him to the end of the hanger, where a large blue tarp is covering what can’t be anything but a plane. His godfather gestures to it. Bradley raises an eyebrow but walks up to it, grabbing hold of the tarp and yanking it back. Like he suspected, he’s greeted by a Cessna. It’s a classic 172 by the looks of it, a smaller four seater. It’s a sleek white in color with subtle burnt orange line work. Bradley whistles. It was beautiful in a way that only planes like this could be. 

“When’d you get this one?” 

Mav smirks, shaking his head. “I didn’t.” 

“What?” 

“Take a look at the other side.” He nods his head, urging Bradley forward. Confused and intrigued, he follows the instructions, walking around to the other side of the small plane. He gets what Mav was saying, then, and sucks in a breath. Right there emblazoned on the side, in an elegant script, was Pumpkin.

This wasn’t Mav’s plane; it was his. 

“You got her about six months ago,” he says softly when he joins him at his side. 

Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the name. It’s foggy, but he thinks he can remember now. He had always wanted to own his own plane since the first time his godfather took him up in one at 6 years old. It was always a pipedream, though. He was never in one place for long enough, and while he was generally good with saving money, it was a bigger purchase than he had ever made. But then the two of you got married and a permanent station here in California. Between both of your savings and what he still had of his parents life insurance, the funds were there. It was you who had made the suggestion of finally pulling the trigger, and it was him who had suggested a four seater instead of a two seater so that if the two of you ever had children, you could all fly together. You cried when he showed you the name he had painted on it. 

“Still needs some work done before she’s flyable. I thought maybe you’d want to work on it today.” 

An eager smile appears on his face and he nods, already peeling his jacket off and heading toward the toolbox. If Mav noticed that he didn’t need to instruct him on where it was, he didn’t comment on it. 

The two work in tandem for hours. It had only been six weeks since his accident, but he couldn’t recall a time since flight school that he had gone this long without being near a plane and it felt good doing so again. It’s easy, getting into the rhythm of twisting bolts and tinkering with the engine wires. He thinks it won’t be long until he can get this cleared to go in the air and he knows without a doubt that you’re going to be the first passenger. 

His phone buzzes in the early afternoon and he doesn’t hesitate to put down the wrench he was working with and dig it out of his jeans pocket. You had sent him a selfie earlier when you had gotten to brunch, sunglasses on and a bright smile on your face with a mimosa in your hand, and he hoped it was another picture. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s Phoenix calling him, instead. He picks up, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Nat?” 

“Your wife got stung by a bee. We’re on our way to the hospital.” 

He can feel the dread as it settles over him. His heart beats faster in his chest. “What?” 

She sighs on the other line, and he can hear commotion in the background. “She’s severely allergic, Rooster. We sat outside at brunch and we didn’t even realize it happened at first. She didn’t have her epipen on her so we had to call an ambulance. She’s going to be fine, but you should get here anyway, okay?” 

He feels like he can barely breathe, like the room is closing in on him a little bit. Mav must notice the panic written all over him because he’s quick to come over and take the phone out of his hand, taking over the conversation. He can barely hear him over the roaring in his head. You were hurt. He knew you were extremely allergic to bees. That was something he had remembered. You were supposed to carry an epipen on you at all times. He can’t remember if you’d ever gotten stung when he was there. He can’t remember how bad it got if you ever were. But now you were in the back of an ambulance and on your way to a hospital and he could feel his fear all the way down to his bones. 

“Bradley, hey. Look at me.” 

Mav is in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He meets his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is you, struggling to catch a breath and being loaded into the back of an ambulance. 

“I’ll drive, okay? Let’s go.” 

He follows him to the car, not really calculating anything other than the fact that he was almost an hour away from you and what if there was traffic and why didn’t you have your epipen on you? 

“She’s going to be okay.” 

“But-” 

“Phoenix said the paramedics administered epi as soon as they arrived, and it didn’t take them long to get to her. She was awake and was already breathing easier when they left for the hospital. Didn’t even need to use the sirens.” 

That doesn’t make him feel better. Not really. Knowing that trained professionals weren’t panicking must have meant that you were okay, but he knows how serious anaphylaxis is, too. 

He can’t reconcile everything that he’s feeling right now. He has never, ever felt like this before. The thought of something happening to you is scarier than any mission he had ever been on, any enemy he had encountered in the air. 

“Mav I can’t - I can’t lose her. I just got her.” 

“You aren’t going to.” 

Bradley doesn’t say anything, can’t think of a single thing to say, and instead buries his head in his hands from his spot in the passenger seat. You were going to be okay. You had to be okay. Because he may not remember everything about the two of you, but he did know for certain that if something ever happened to you, he would never, ever recover from it. 

He doesn’t wait for Mav once they get to the hospital, the older man opting to drop him off at the front before going to find parking. He’s practically sprinting as he goes through the emergency room doors and vaguely, he remembers you telling him about the time this happened before, when you took yourself to the hospital and ended up needing surgery. He can almost feel that panic now, and it makes what he’s already feeling worse. 

“Can I help-“

“I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in because of a bee sting-“

“Sir-“

“She’s really allergic and-“

“Sir!” The nurse behind the counter snaps, raising her voice over his to get through to him. “I need your wife’s name if I’m going to find her for you.”

Oh. Yes, he thinks, your name. They need your name. 

It’s the first time he’s said your full name, and your first and his last name feel so right coming off his tongue. But he can’t focus on that right now, giving all of his attention to the nurse who is typing so slowly. 

Before she can even hit enter, though, he hears his callsign echo behind him. He spins, heart racing with anxiety, and spots Nat making her way over to him. She gives the annoyed nurse a kind, charming smile as she grabs Bradley by the arm 

“Sorry about him, ma’am. I got him from here.”

She pulls him away without another word, heading toward the hallway off the packed waiting room. 

“Is she okay? Nat, is-“

“She’s fine, Rooster. Coming down from the adrenaline rush that the epinephrine gave her, but she’ll be okay.”

“What about-“

Nat stops in front of a closed door, lowering her voice. “Bradley. She’s okay.” 

He’s pushing past her before she even finishes, spotting you on the bed through the glass and half drawn curtain. You look so small amongst the crinkly white sheets, still in the clothes you wore to brunch. Your makeup is a bit smudged and your eyes are red and he hates to think that you were scared enough to start crying. You’re holding an oxygen mask in your hand at your side. 

“Hi baby.” Even your voice sounds more pitched. He’s quick to make it to your side. 

Your breathing is slightly elevated, and the heart monitor is beating a little bit faster than he thinks is normal. He grabs the hand holding the mask, placing it over your mouth to start providing you with the supplemental air again. You make a small sound of surprise, but take in a deep breath of it anyway before pushing his hand away. 

“I’m okay.”

But your hands are shaking and your eyes are wider than normal. The skin that he can see is splotchy with hives. 

He looks back at Nat, who is still hovering in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a small smirk on her face. He ignores the look. “Can you grab a doctor?”

You protest from the bed, but Bradley doesn’t waiver. With a fond roll of her eyes, Nat disappears from view. 

“Bradley. Sweetheart.” You grip his wrist, trying to get him to focus on you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re in the emergency room because you went into anaphylactic shock. You are not fine.” 

“But I am,” you insist, smiling softly at him, even as your body trembles as it works to burn through the adrenaline that was injected into it, “medicine worked just fine.” 

The door slides open before he can respond, an attending doctor who looks like he’s been up for longer than is healthy and in wrinkled green scrubs introducing himself as he walks in.

“Is she okay?” Bradley demands immediately, and the tired man looks startled for a moment at how abrupt the question was. Bradley stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking as he waits for the answer. His heart is still pounding in his chest. He feels you tangle one of your hands with one of his and he squeezes back when he feels the pressure from you. He knows you’re trying to reassure him. 

“And you are…?” 

“I’m her husband,” he answers easily, the words falling off his tongue like he had said them a thousand times before. You suck in a small breath and tighten your grip on his hand again. 

“Ah,” the doctor hums, flipping through the chart he’s holding. Bradley wonders if all non-military hospitals move this slowly or if it was just because of how anxious he is at this moment, but he really, really needs him to answer his question. 

“Is she okay?” he repeats. 

“Bradley,” you murmur, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man in the scrubs and white coat. 

“She responded well to the epinephrine that was administered by the paramedics who brought her in,” he finally says, looking up from the chart and taking a step toward your side. He stops when he sees that Bradley doesn’t move an inch. He sighs, switching direction to go to your other side instead. “How are you feeling Mrs. Bradshaw?”

You answer his questions as they come, Bradley paying rapt attention the whole time. Your throat doesn’t feel tight anymore. You aren’t lightheaded, but you do feel a little shortness of breath. You feel jittery - wired, almost. You’re both assured that it’s completely normal as the drug works its way out of your system. They can give you something to try and calm you down, and they want you to stay for a few hours to make sure you don’t go back into the allergic reaction once the epinephrine has worn off. The thought makes his blood run cold. 

“Should she stay overnight?” he asks, but the doctor shakes his head no. 

“The standard observation timeslot should be just fine, Mr. Bradshaw. But we’ll make sure you both know what to look out for when you leave.” 

He walks out without saying much else. Bradley feels you tug on his hand, his name leaving your lips in a whisper. He meets your gaze and he watches as your eyes soften even more. 

“Sit down, honey.” 

He listens to you, dragging the chair beside your bed as close as possible. He rests his elbows on the mattress beside you, holding your hand tightly between both of his. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers and taking a deep breath. “I…this really scared me.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say softly, running your thumb over one of the hands holding yours, soothing the skin and helping his racing heart. Your touch is like magic to him, providing an almost instant calm that he desperately needed. Guilt curled in his stomach, knowing that even now, you’re the one helping him. 

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.” 

“We comfort each other, baby. That’s how this works.” 

“Why didn’t you have your epipen on you, Pumpkin? Don’t you normally carry it?” he asks quietly, a touch of urgency still in his tone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you were alone and this happened, with no one around to call 911. He could have lost you, all over a silly little bee sting, and he can’t wrap his mind around that. He just got you. He had had you, he knew. But he was just getting you back. 

“I switched bags this morning and forgot to take it out of the pocket of the old one, I guess. I haven’t had to use one since college. I forget about it, sometimes.” 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the worst case scenarios. He’s the one that normally reminds you to always have it on you, he thinks. He vaguely recalls having a spare in the glove compartment of the Bronco, and in the drawer in the kitchen and maybe one in the bedroom, too. 

Not for the first time, he curses his memory and the accident that took it from him. 

When he opens his eyes, his look is intense, “Never again, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, but Bradley shakes his head. 

“No. Promise me. Please?”

Your lips part and you stare at him for a long moment. His gaze never waivers from yours. He needs you to listen to him. To hear him. 

“I promise,” you finally whisper. 

He rises from the chair, pressing a kiss to your lips. He keeps his forehead against yours, breathing you in. 

“Will you lay with me?” You ask quietly, shy in a way reminiscent of when you asked him to say I love you on the porch all those weeks ago. He hates that you felt you even needed to ask. 

With no hesitation, he maneuvered himself into the small bed beside you. He kisses your forehead once, twice, three times, holding you as tightly as he could. Your body still gave the occasional tremble but they had lessened now, your breaths coming a little bit easier, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease. 

“Sorry for being a mess,” he whispers into your hair. 

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he feels you shake your head from where it’s tucked into his chest. “It means you care.”

The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say them, not yet or here. You deserve more than a frantic hospital room confession.

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! We're nearing the end, but I think everyone is really going to like the next chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[matthewtkachuk]

one day all my love will come back to me

Spending a mid-degree gap year in the guest bedroom of your best friend who you’ve been in love with for ages seems to be a recipe for disaster until a hook up with a player from a visiting team threatens to change your future forever 

pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader; brayden point x reader

warnings: creative liberties taken with the 2021-2022 regular season schedule and the availability/contributions of Brayden Point during the 2022 playoffs, typical angst associated with a love triangle with a hint of unrequited love, sexual themes (not quite smut but more than implied) and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc.)

word count: 10.9k

a/n: surprise @senditcolton i'm your summer exchange fic writer! i'm so so so sooooo sorry this is late, @wyattjohnston and i were having a hot girl european summer and it's not an excuse but a bit of an explanation. when i saw you had written brayden point twice in your players list, i knew it was time to dust off this fic idea i had last year and do her proper justice. i hope you like it!!! shout out to demi for the many "replace c with C" suggestions on google docs and @thomasschabot for the other suggestions. ok i'll shut up now, enjoy!!

The Avs are up by one with thirty seconds to go and you’re pretty sure you’re going to puke. It’s a good thing everyone is far too focused on the action going on at ice level to question why your gaze keeps bouncing between the good guys and a certain forward on the other team. It’s such a strange feeling—you want with your entire being for your boys to hoist the Cup, but there’s a small part of you that never wants to see the boy on the other team you care for so deeply, so upset. He was right, you both crossed the line past hooking up a long time ago. 

-

“You look hot.” 

In any other circumstance, those words from Nate would have your heart going into overdrive. As it stands, your heart is already pumping at a rate you fear is not healthy while you lie on a trampoline with your niece’s sprinkler set up beneath it. For every bitter complaint you’ve ever had about a Canadian winter, the opposing heat waves might just be slightly worse.

“A/C’s broken,” you say like that explains everything. 

Nate hums in response like maybe it does before pulling himself up beside you. 

Somehow the air around you feels even hotter, precipitation building at your hairline. You fuss for a minute, wiping away the sweat before dramatically slapping your hands down on the trampoline in protest. 

Nate ignores you, choosing to instead cheerfully proclaim “This is nice!”

“What do you want?” you ask in response. There are layers to your grumpiness, but for now you can pretend it’s all related to the unbearable heat.

“Can’t a guy visit his best friend?” 

You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep yours closed. “Not when it's 34 degrees out and humid as hell and he has to leave his air conditioned mansion to do so.”

“I saw your story and I was coming to invite you to my air conditioned mansion.”

“Is Sidney home?” Your tone is so much more nonchalant than you feel. It doesn’t matter that the aforementioned man went from Nate’s childhood hero to mentor to near-brother; it will never not be weird to have but one degree of separation from the man who’s name is on your town’s welcome sign. 

Nate laughs like he can read your mind, but you still don’t glance over at him. You don’t need to, not really. The image of him beside you comes all too easily to your inner mind. His hair’s got a wave from the humidity, his nose tinged red from the hot sun, and his chest golden and chiseled and harlequin romance novel cover-esque— 

“You know one day you’re going to have to get used to being around guys who made it to the show. Hell, I'm a guy who made it to the show.”

Finally you turn to look at him and he’s somehow even more beautiful than you’d just imagined. “That’s different Nate. You’re….you.”

He smiles at you and it’s brighter than the damn sun causing you so many problems today. “And Sid’s just Sid. And the guys in Denver are just the guys in Denver.”

His words have your nose scrunching and you promptly go back to laying flat on your back. “Don’t remind me.” There’s silence for a beat or two and then you continue, “Speaking of, are you sure it’s still okay—“

Nate doesn’t let you finish this time. “Yes, I’m sure it’s okay for you to hang around my apartment in Denver while you take a year off from school to figure out what you want to do.”

“Thanks Nate,” you reply and he hums in response. Abruptly you sit up, sliding a little from the slick trampoline surface. “Your A/C offer still standing too?”

He grins this time and you’re damn near blinded. “For you? Always.”

Sidney—Sid waves at you both from his kitchen when you pull up to Nate’s but that’s as far as it goes. Nate makes a joke about banana bread that you don’t quite get, mood souring considerably when you wonder aloud if he thinks Sidney will bring some over. 

It’s all forgotten when the cold air hits you as you enter the lake house. 

-

The summer passes by quickly without too much incident—just the nagging of your mother about your future and your own tiptoeing around the feelings you have for your friend. 

On one of your and Nate’s last nights before leaving for Denver, your niece pulls him aside and sternly instructs him to bring home the Cup for her. 

He laughs, but there’s something in his eye that says he means it when he says he will. That intensity doesn’t waiver, even as his gaze slides toward you. It has you thinking about a future by his side, celebrating those moments with him in a way so much greater than you do now. 

The thought doesn’t leave you as you kiss your family goodbye, trying desperately to not let any tears shed at the thought of no longer being a small distance away. Nate’s constant near proximity and the promise of more of it takes away the sting a little, but you fall into your sister’s embrace that little bit more all the same. 

Even as you do a final check of your things—two large suitcases, a carry-on and a backpack to house everything you’ll need for the next year—you think about it, of what it would be like to do this every year. What it would be like to pack with the intention of unpacking your things beside Nate’s in his closet. It’s silly, but sometimes you still feel like you’re fifteen years old, realizing you’re in love with your best friend as he goes away to the same hockey school as his idol. 

Two flights full of self doubt and Nate sleeping on your shoulder later you’re convinced spending your impromptu gap year at his place is a bad idea. But then he’s smiling and ‘welcome home’-ing you and you step through the door.

-

Unemployment and a mid-twenties life crisis isn’t so bad from the guest bedroom of a lavish semi-detached in the suburbs of Denver. The bed’s softer than the one in your childhood bedroom. Bigger too. And the closet leading into the attached en-suite has no business being the size it is. 

There are downsides of course. You are still unemployed and in the middle of a life crisis. Nathan is woefully unaware of your feelings and likely to never reciprocate. His teammates look at you like they know, though. And there’s the whole banning of any food that brings any modicum of enjoyment that you’re not entirely sure is serious or not. 

The teammates that come around are kind to you when you’re around them enough to let them be. A small part of it is the intimidation of them being professional hockey players but they’re good guys and you’ve met many of them before. Really, it’s something more akin to the inherent uncomfortability of your predicament. It’s Nate’s house and you’re free-loading. 

Of course he would argue differently if you voiced your thoughts and hang ups but that’s precisely why you don’t. 

Nate may have never caught onto your feelings for him, but he’s not an oblivious person. That’s probably how you end up in the family box, being personally invited to brunch with the Better Halves by the best-half-in-charge herself, Mel Landeskog. 

You find yourself nodding despite the anxiety of the possibility of making new friends, certain it’s less of an invitation and more of a demand. 

She tells you as much, pressing a mimosa into your hand when you arrive at a cute restaurant and a table full of beautiful, predominantly blonde women. If Nate’s teammates were intimidating on a personal level, their wives and girlfriends are a whole other level. Never in your life have you been so surrounded by a group of women so put together—every outfit perfectly on point, every head of hair treated to an expensive blowout, every foundation shade perfectly matched or worse, no makeup needed. 

It has you self-conscious, despite having spent ages picking out something to wear and trying to tame your hair into something presentable. The mimosa helps, and so do the compliments from Ashley Kadri. Little by little you open up, and by the end of brunch you have a killer buzz and a dozen new instagram followers and numbers in your phone. 

When Nate picks you up, the bubbles have gone to your head. You spend the entire ride back to his place with the back of your head pressed to the passenger side window so that you can grin stupidly at his side profile. 

“The girls are great,” you tell him with a silly giggle. His returning smile reeks of satisfaction of a job well done, but you don’t focus on it. “We’re gonna get dinner this week too!”

-

Although Mel takes you under her wing, it’s Heidy, Cale’s girlfriend who you instantly click with. 

She’s every bit as beautiful and kind as the rest of them, but you connect with her on a different level. It’s almost like you’ve known her as long as you’ve known Nate. She shares your love of Taylor Swift and gets your jokes and is more than happy to let you bounce future career plans off her. 

You can tell the girls have questions about your relationship with Nate, and truthfully they can get in line behind you. Sometimes, when you’re not careful, it almost feels like you’re not alone in how you feel. Sometimes it feels like you’re high school sweethearts, playing house on the precipice of a greater future. 

Nate doesn’t help it himself though. It’s you he calls on long road trips, you he pulls into a giant hug outside the locker room before driving you both home after a game. You who is invited to WAG functions as a connection to him—both informally in a social context and more formally and broadly. Things like charity toy drives and the family box at games. A part of you fears the possibility of playoffs—especially with odds so clearly in the Avs favor—and what it would mean to be so publicly claimed as Nate’s while privately remaining the way you always have been. 

It’s Heidy who you confide in. She’s always there to offer her ear, her shoulder, her opinion. And, although she encourages you to share your feelings, she also knows when to back off and let you do it when and if you’re ready. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. 

-

With Christmas comes the Better Halves Christmas Tree Auction. It’s Mel’s favorite charity event of the season, she tells you gleefully. 

“Every event is her favorite,” Suzanna says behind her back later. 

Designated Favorite Human of the Avalanche Children is usually your favorite title, but it means you have one kid hanging off of you when the girls drop the bomb on you. 

“So what are you thinking for your WAG tree?”

It’s an innocent enough question, especially when you think it’s aimed at one of the aforementioned WAGs in the family box. Only when there is no response do you look up and realize it’s meant for you instead. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Your…Tree,” someone says slowly and you shake your head. 

Your tone and words are almost as flustered as you are. “No I heard you. I’m just—What do you—Why are you asking me?”

“Well, Nate said…” 

It all comes clear. Yet again, you’re expected to play the part. At great personal cost, mind you. It’s a mindfuck and a half, having to do all the things that you do for a man you love when it doesn’t mean anything. 

Your thoughts are invaded with a tempestuous mixture of Nate and your relationship or lack thereof and yet another public acknowledgement. 

Truly, you wonder if the others in the box pity you or laugh behind your back. 

“C’mon,” Heidy says later, when the final buzzer sounds, cementing another win. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Nate’s,” you correct weakly. 

She nods and repeats his name, grabbing your arm and leading you away. 

-

You’re stewing in silence when Nate comes home. 

“You okay?” he questions upon finding you in the living room, lit up only by the light filtering in through the large bay window. 

The twitch of your eye is the only indication you’ve heard and recognized his words for a long moment. You can practically hear the gears whirring in his head, can feel the moment he’s about to speak again. 

Not wanting to give him the opportunity, you ask, “Why?” His brows furrow and his head tits and so you continue. “Why did you say I would do your Better Half tree?”

“It’s for charity…You love charity work.” Nate visibly relaxes and you understand why. He’s not wrong, engaging in charity work has been a big part of why you’re not wallowing in self pity, but this isn’t just simple ‘charity work’ and you tell him as much. 

“I love toy drives and helping at the soup kitchen and adoption events at the ASPCA. This is different, this is your WAG tree. It means something. It’s in your name, like I’m—I’m—“ you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

“Everything you mentioned you do in my name.” He doesn’t seem to get it, frustrating you further. 

“It’s not the same, Nate! All those other things I do as part of the larger group. It’s all facilitated by your team and your teammates ‘Better Halves.’ Their wives and girlfriends. They’ve all made me feel welcome, but I'm not one of them. This implies that I am one of them, but I’m not your girlfriend and certainly not your wife.”

“You basically are.” The phrase has your heart jumping into your throat. Of every daydream or fantasy you’ve ever allowed yourself to slip into, you never dreamed this would be how it all went down—“Without actually being my wife or girlfriend.”

“Right.” Your voice is short and clipped, masking the hurt quickly overtaking you. You won’t cry—you’re stronger than that. So strong in fact, that you lay down a firm boundary. “I won’t do it. Get Sidney to do it or something.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, pausing and then asking, “We’re good, right?”

“Yep.” You feign nonchalance and then wish him a good night. 

The pillow holds all your tears and secrets. 

-

The incident sticks with you, despite your many attempts to shake it off. Even Heidy can’t help. She tries anyway. 

You’re not his. 

But you are. You’re his and you have been for years now. Since he was leaving for school. Maybe even many years before that. Regardless of the true beginning, it doesn’t quite matter. What really matters is this: you’re not sure it will ever have an ending, but you’re almost certain if it does, it won’t be the one you want. 

You’re his but he’s not yours. 

Part of him is, sure, but you share that part with the other residents of Cole Harbour. The other part with the team and his teammates and their families, with the fans and the haters alike. The part you so desperately want to be yours has belonged to many a woman, but never to you. 

It was a lot easier to live in the space between his childhood best friend and everything more when you were separated the majority of the year. A summer chock full of other things to do and focus your attention on to keep the longing at bay and enough distance for the rest of the year to forget how it feels to have him near without really having him. 

One of Heidy’s distraction schemes involves hitting up downtown Denver a few nights later. 

“But it’s Thursday,” you say when she shows up at Nate’s dressed up like she’s ready to hit the bar. 

“I have tomorrow off and you don’t have a job, so,” she replies. 

You frown, “Ouch.” She throws a look your way as if to not take it so personally and continues perusing your closet. “I’m not really feeling up to going out tonight.”

“Too damn bad,” she replies. “You can’t just sit here and wallow for the rest of your life.”

“Watch me,” you retort but start to get up anyway. 

She smirks and tosses some clothes at you. “Get dressed and do something with your hair. I’ll do your makeup.”

“Where are you guys going all dressed up?” Nate questions when he spots the two of you in the foyer. 

“Out.” Heidy is curt, a consequence of her not only being a good friend to you, but also her own awareness of his behavior. 

His brows knit together but he soldiers on, “Do you want company?”

“Nope!” She’s much more cheerful now that she’s handed you your coat and bundled herself up. “Don’t wait up!”

Heidy drags you out to Cale’s car, where the man himself sits waiting. You instantly feel bad—between your protesting and actual time spent getting ready, he’d been sitting a while. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” you ask as you get in the backseat. He shrugs with a rosy smile as Heidy pushes you in further and takes a seat beside you. After pressing a quick kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek over the center console, of course. 

Cale doesn’t stick around after dropping you both off—a wave, a ‘be safe’, and ‘call me when you’re ready to go home’ and he’s gone. 

You’re terrible company admittedly, mouth set in a deep frown that doesn’t crack even as you sip your drink. Heidy does most of the talking at first, blabbing away about everything and nothing. Until she sighs, slaps her hand down on the bar top and says, “You need to deal with this. Either you need to resolve things with Nate or you need to get over it, distract yourself with something or someone else.”

You nearly choke on the last of your drink. “Gee, Heidy, could you be any more subtle?”

“I’m worried about you.” She’s so earnest it tugs at your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll try. Really.” 

She smiles, relaxing into the seat at the bar top. 

Just then, the bartender sets another drink in front of you. 

“I didn’t order another,” you state politely, attempting to hand back the drink. 

The bartender shakes his head, motioning to the table in the corner as he speaks. “From someone at that table.”

It’s a group of athletic men, but only one is looking your way. He’s all intense eyes framed by intense eyebrows, but the look on his face doesn’t match the intensity. It’s…intriguing to say the least. Soft but confident, and definitely interested. 

It’s not until one of the other men at the table elbows him that you realize they’re the team playing the Avs tomorrow night. 

Quickly you spin back around and whisper to your friend, “Someone from the Tampa Bay Lightning just bought me a drink.”

Her eyes widen and she herself turns around quickly to get a glimpse of your admirer across the bar. You grab at her arm and bring her back to face the bar top. 

“Heidy!” you hiss. 

“Sorry!” she replies, “What are you going to do?”

You think about it for a second before throwing caution to the wind. Putting on your flirtiest smile, you turn around a lot more gracefully this time. Raising the gifted drink, you tilt it in a ‘Cheers’ motion before wrapping your lips around the straw for a sip. He responds with an identical gesture, although with an amber colored beer bottle instead. 

Satisfied, you resume your earlier position while Heidy speaks. 

“When I said you needed a distraction that is not what I meant!”

You roll your eyes. “It’s a drink, not a marriage proposal. Relax.”

She does, until you pull her out to the dance floor with eyes only for the man across the bar. Lucky for you—and less lucky for Heidy’s resting heart rate and blood pressure—he’s got eyes for you, too. 

It only takes half a song for him to approach and introduce himself. “I’m Brayden.”

You smile and reciprocate, waiting a beat for Heidy to speak too, but she just tilts her nose up. An elbow to her side doesn’t get her speaking and so you introduce her, too. 

One of Brayden’s eyebrows raise and you find yourself momentarily mesmerized by the action before quickly explaining, “Big Avalanche fans.”

He nods slowly once, then shrugs. “Maybe I can change that.”

“Doubtful,” she says under her breath, but if you heard it, you imagine Brayden did too. 

She doesn’t thaw any, even as the song changes. Nor does she get the hint to take herself elsewhere and so you rather pointedly ask if she can go get you both another round. 

Heidy isn’t even able to get out whatever she was ready to grumble before Brayden is offering, pausing to ask what Heidy is drinking. She begrudgingly tells him and he disappears. 

“Seriously? You could have any guy here and that’s who you go for?” she asks. 

You shrug, “He’s the one I want.”

She softens at your earnest tone. “Okay.”

“Call Cale,” you tell her. “Go curl up on the couch and watch TV together or whatever you would have done if you weren’t worrying about me.”

“I don’t know…”

“Go. I’ll be fine. And I’ll text you if I need you,” you confirm. 

She sighs. “I’m waiting for my drink first.”

You laugh and pull her into a side hug. “Love you.”

True to her word, she finishes the drink Brayden brings her—even managing a ‘thank you!’—before slipping off into the crowd and, you imagine, into her boyfriend’s car. 

Brayden looks a little concerned at her rapid exit. “Did I do something to make her leave?” 

“Besides playing for the wrong team? Nah.” 

He doesn’t look convinced, but the concern fades when you wrap your arms around his neck. 

It’s all but gone when you press your lips to his. 

You dance for another few songs and another drink before your inhibitions are just low enough to drag him in the direction of the bathrooms. 

The men’s is empty when you enter, and so you flip the lock on the door and press yourself against him. 

He reciprocates, crowding you against the door with his mouth hot on yours. 

Your whole body lights up at his touch, coming alive beneath his fingertips. There are no thoughts of Nate or the predicament you’ve found yourself in, just Brayden. 

His hands are curved around your jaw, and your leg is wrapped around his waist when he pulls away. “Wait...wait.”

“You don’t want…?” You’re not drunk, just a little bit more sensitive to rejection than you usually would be. 

“No that’s—That’s not it at all. I want you, like, really want you.” He kisses you, and as good as his touch feels, being wanted feels that extra bit more. “Not like this. Not here.”

Truthfully, you’ve never been the kind of girl who lets someone hit and quit in a bar bathroom before. Or anywhere really. A part of you that you thought was long buried stirs inside of you and you realize for the first time in a long time you’re feeling something for a man who isn’t your best friend. 

Your best friend. Shit. “I have a kind of odd living situation right now, my place isn’t an option.”

“Your parents?”

You bark out a laugh that he immediately covers with his mouth. “No, they’re back in Canada.”

“Your husband? Your boyfriend?” He’s joking, but you can’t help but get the sense there’s an ounce of worry that he’s right. It’s such an inconceivable notion that Nate could ever be either to you that you laugh again. 

“No, I just live with a friend who probably won’t be understanding about a strange man in their house.” 

Brayden visibly relaxes, pauses, and then says, “I have a hotel room…you’ll have to be quiet though.”

“I can be quiet,” you reply, barely hiding your smirk. 

You try your best, really give it your best effort, but no one has ever touched you like he does. 

Nate doesn’t cross your mind once. 

-

You sneak out early in the morning, determined to not have a semi-public walk of shame in front of an entire hockey team. It’s almost a success until you run into his captain in the lobby. Feeling your face grow hot, you give him a little nod and escape to the waiting Uber. You can only hope he doesn’t get too much shit, telling him as much using the newest number in your phone. 

You’re not nearly as lucky, facing the firing squad that is Nate as you slip into the entryway. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see your best friend awaiting your arrival, if the several messages that popped up when you’d finally opened your phone to send the aforementioned text to Brayden were any indication. 

“Where have you been?” he asks and you have to keep from rolling your eyes. 

“Out,” you say, calling back to Heidy’s response last night but he doesn’t accept it as easily coming from you. 

“All night?” he continues the interrogation. 

“I crashed at Heidy’s last night, what’s with the fifth degree, Dad?”

He looks like he was waiting for this moment as he replies, “No you didn’t, I talked to Cale.”

This time you do roll your eyes. “It’s none of your business, Nate.”

“It is my business if you’re under my roof,” he says, doing his best impression of your father for real this time. 

You know it’s not his intention, but your stomach drops all the same. The old feeling of guilt and shame and failure floods your veins, and you can tell he notices. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers, “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried and you didn’t answer my messages.”

“I know,” you say but the words taste bitter in your mouth. “I’m going to go get some more sleep. See you later.”

He repeats the words back at you, but you’re more focused on the buzzing phone in your pocket. 

Safe in Nate’s guest bedroom, you slip into something more comfortable, get beneath the covers and open your messages. 

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Got fined

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Probably going to get chirped for a month

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Worth it though 

You: I would tell you I’m sorry but I’m not 

Bar Guy 💙🤍: Me either

-

If you thought that was the beginning and the end of Brayden you would be sorely mistaken. 

Long distance flirting becomes a long distance hook up becomes him flying you out to see him. Any time you protested the latter, you’d find a non-refundable ticket in your email and a ‘please’ in your text messages. 

Fall fades into Winter and Bar Guy 💙🤍 turns to Brayden turns to B 💙. As your feelings for him grow, you find thoughts of Nate as anything other than someone-you-grew-up-with fade. 

You come clean about the ‘friend you live with’ being Nathan MacKinnon before the first time you fly down to see him, worried that your lie by omission might be a dealbreaker. Brayden only laughs, he figured Heidy’s hostility was more than just motivated by more than sports team loyalty. 

The thing about Brayden is he never makes you feel bad about Nate. He is understanding and gracious, never demanding, never unreasonable. A small part of you sometimes thinks about how if the roles were reversed, you don’t think Nate would be quite the same. 

Initially unsupportive and apprehensive, Heidy comes around, although her persistence turns from telling Nate how you feel to telling Nate about Brayden. You don’t do either, and she keeps your secrets. 

Nate being selected for the All Star Game in Vegas while Brayden isn’t brings a unique opportunity for a week straight in hot, sunny Florida. The chill of Denver isn’t quite as biting as back home, but you’re excited to escape it all the same. 

He doesn’t ask you to join him in Vegas, but you do wonder if he thought he didn’t need to. 

It doesn’t matter either way, when an errant high stick in overtime breaks his nose and dashes his All Star dreams. 

Your first thought upon seeing him bloody and disoriented on the ice is that there is no way you can go to Florida. 

It probably looks much worse than it is, the girls try to reassure you in the box, but you’re not convinced. 

Nate’s reassurances later don’t do much either. Not with his face puffy and bruised and some dried blood on his chin. 

It’s not until he assures you that his mom and sister will be coming down to Denver since they had the time off anyway that you decide for sure you will go. 

The day you leave for the airport, his pathetic form on the couch is almost enough to have you last minute cancelling on Brayden. 

Nate all but demands you don’t miss out on his account, asking that you ‘be safe’ and ‘have fun’. 

In return you hit him with a ‘thanks Dad’ and ‘take it easy’ despite knowing just by virtue of who he is as a person he will be doing the exact opposite.  

Thoughts of Nate, broken and bruised, haunt you the entire journey. They don’t fade until you’re in Brayden’s arms. Even then, it’s a dull ache that you do your best to ignore. 

Evidently you don’t do a very good job of hiding it, or maybe Brayden just knows you better than you think, because he catches on before you’ve even reached his place. 

“You okay?” he asks, gently squeezing your knee where his hand rests. 

Turning to look at his side profile, so earnest and sweet, you don’t even think of lying. 

“I’m worried about Nate.”

“I get that,” he says and you wonder if he truly does. “I’m glad you’re here with me though.”

Smiling at him, you are too, and so you try to push down the guilt and focus your attention on the man you’re with. 

You check on Nate periodically throughout the week, never getting much more than a thumbs up emoji, but at least you know he’s alive. 

Brayden wines and dines and, well, you know the rest of the rhyme. 

By the time the week is up, you don’t want to leave. It’s strange how meeting one person can change things so drastically. Before Brayden, you would never have dreamed of spending a week with another man when Nate was injured and possibly may have needed you. 

It also puts things into perspective for you. 

Really emphasizes how much additional emotional labor you put in—and were expected to—in your relationship with Nate. The lines and boundaries had long since blurred, and it took dedicating your time and energy to another man to see it. 

If Nate notices the way you pull back even further when you return, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

-

Falling for Brayden is easy. It’s a gentle float down to the ground, landing among a field of flowers to catch your fall. A stark contrast to the free fall of being pushed from an airplane at 10,000 feet by Nate. 

Where Nate’s sharp edges have cut you time and time and time again, Brayden’s curves wrap around you and hold you tight. 

When you’re not physically with him, you’re texting and calling, and when you’re not doing that you’re thinking about him. 

Neither of you make any move to define the relationship further, but it doesn’t sting like the years of being strung along by Nate did. It’s probably because while no words have been exchanged to that effect, Brayden lets you feel how much he cares for you. 

-

You’re nearly found out late in the regular season. 

Something about Tampa has started to feel familiar and safe—you try not to think about exactly why that is—and so, despite the knowledge that the boys are in town, too, you’re not as careful as you should be. 

There’s an ice cream spot near Brayden’s that you’ve taken to frequenting. As a consequence, it’s also near the arena. 

Because it’s so close, you decide to walk there, teasing him the whole way about how one ice cream cone won’t derail his nutrition plan. He’s arguing back, but you know it’s in vain because his sweet tooth and the lilt of your voice will win in the end. 

Your hands naturally brush as a result of your close proximity and you take the opportunity to link your pinkies. He smiles softly and you walk in silence for a minute until he breaks it. 

“You really won’t let me give you my jersey?” It’s a question that has come up before, but every time it does you wonder if it’s a little bit more serious of an ask than the last. 

“I’d rather die. Maybe if you were a better hockey player,” you tease, jumping back to avoid his grasp. 

He gasps playfully, thick eyebrows raising with his wide eyes. “Take that back right now.” He takes a step closer to you but you dodge his advances, sliding to the other side of the bench. 

“Sorry baby, you know I bleed blue and maroon. Wouldn’t be caught dead in traitor blue.” Not to mention you’d never ever hear the end of it from the boys if someone saw you in it. 

He fakes left and you fall for it, giggling madly as he wraps you up in his arms and scrapes his beard against your cheek. “What about just for me?” he asks, kissing your neck once and then nipping at it with his teeth before pulling back to look into your eyes. “In my bed with nothing else on?”

It’s like the already beautiful temperature rises even higher when he presses his mouth to yours. You give in quickly, pressing onto the tips of your toes to get even closer. It turns dirty quickly, his tongue in your mouth and his fingers buried deep in your hair. 

And then a familiar voice calls your name. 

You pull from Brayden like you’ve been burnt, a look of pure panic crossing your face as you realize you know the body attached to the voice. 

It’s JT and he looks like been standing there long enough to figure out what’s going on. 

“JT—“ you start to explain, but pause. There is no easy, simple explanation. There are months and months, hell years and years, of backstory and layers to even get to this point. 

“I thought—“ He appears to change his mind, stopping his thought mid sentence and switching to a question. “What’s going on here?”

“Brayden and I are, well, we’re.” It’s a struggle to explain what you are to one of Nate’s teammates when you haven’t had this conversation in full with the man beside you. Finally, you land on “We’re together.”

You don’t look over at Brayden to see his reaction. 

“How long?” is the natural follow up. 

It’s another tough question, but you decide to go with the first time you met and slept together. “Before Christmas.”

“Does Nate know?” he asks. The wild look in your eyes must give you away because he signs and says your name. “You have to tell him.”

You get that, really you do. But at the same time it’s your business what you do and who you do it with, not Nate’s. At the same time, you know it would be a really shit thing for him to find out through someone who isn’t you. 

Beyond that, you’re pretty sure right before playoffs isn’t the right time to have that conversation and you tell JT as much. “I know, I will. After the season I’ll tell everyone.”

JT looks less than convinced. 

“You know Nate, it wouldn’t do anyone any good while the season is still going on. Please, you can’t tell him.”

JT might be as aware as you are of who Nate is as a person, and he’s certainly more aware of who Nate is as a hockey player and so he agrees despite his clear hesitance. “Promise me, after the season.”

“I promise.”

When he’s gone, Brayden finally speaks up. “You want to go public with us?”

You worry you’ve said the wrong thing, starting to babble about how you’re sorry the conversation didn’t occur privately first, and how you don’t need to go public if it’s not something he wants to do when he silences you with a kiss. 

“I want to tell everyone,” he says earnestly and you kiss him again.  

JT thankfully keeps his word. 

-

Nate doesn’t watch any other team in the playoffs. 

It makes trying to catch Brayden’s games tough, sneaking out to sports bars, watching games on your phone in Nate’s guest room, even flying out to watch a couple home games during the run. 

The only supportive merch you sport is a necklace with his number, and on occasion a little blue and white lacy number under your clothes. You’re not offered a WAG jacket—whether that’s due to Brayden knowing well enough you don’t want to be that public or because your reaction to the style of jacket itself was less than positive. 

In the back of your mind you recognize there’s a chance it could come down to the teams of the boys you care for most; one Eastern Conference, one Western Conference. 

Selfishly, when the first round between the Bolts and the Leafs goes to seven, part of you hopes for it to end right there. Most of you is glad they push through. 

On Colorado’s side of the playoff bracket, they absolutely rip through everyone who stands in their way. 

You are offered a jacket with Nate’s name and number in glitter, but you turn it down in favor of a lucky baseball cap, though you do accept an unpersonalized crop from Madison. 

Some of the girls decide to travel for the away games. You have to turn them down because there are already tickets with your name on them to see Brayden. There’s no way you can—or would—miss any Avs home games, and so instead you end up being one of a handful of supporters in the likes of Toronto, Miami and New York. 

It’s a difficult balancing act as the playoffs progress in both teams’ favor. 

And then your worst nightmare comes true. The quest for the Cup comes down to your… whatever Brayden is to you and to Nate and the team you’ve supported since he was drafted and all the other people who have come to feel like family. 

Whispering to Brayden in the dark of night before the Finals begin, you tell him, “You know I support you, but…”

“It’s okay,” he whispers back, even though he has no reason to match your tone all alone in his home in Tampa. “I get it. As long as you still like me, you can like them a little bit more.”

You giggle, “It’s got nothing to do with liking you, you dolt.” 

“Bolt,” he corrects, and even though you can’t see him you know he’s smiling. 

“Oh my God, shut up.” You don’t mean it literally but he’s quiet for a second too long. “No matter what happens I’m proud of you.”

For two people who have never properly defined nor publicized their relationship, it might be too heavy of a moment, but his quiet thank you is laced with emotion. 

“Go to bed,” you say after another few beats of silence. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The first two games are in Colorado, and the boys take both at home. 

“Ain’t over til it’s over,” is both of your boys’ philosophy after the first two. 

Nate is positively buzzing, especially after so decisively winning the second, but still cautious—very aware of how quickly a 2-0 lead can turn into the end of the line and empty hands. 

Brayden is also cautious, and this isn’t his first or even second rodeo at the Cup final in as many years. You try to kiss it better in a random hallway in the bowels of Ball Arena. 

Finally accepting the Better Halves’ invitation to travel to road games, you have a good seat to Tampa taking back some momentum in game three before promptly handing it back to Colorado. 

You die and come back to life a dozen times in game four as Brayden and his team hold on. 

Game five is to be played back in Tampa, and you spend the night before the game in Brayden’s bed instead of the hotel Nate has paid for. “Good luck,” you whisper against his lips early in the morning before you leave to meet the girls for breakfast. 

“You don’t mean that,” he teases, stretching out in such a way that has you considering skipping breakfast—certain teasing and interrogation be damned. 

“Good luck to you,” you amend, kissing him once more. “Your team can rot.”

His laughter rings in your ears as you leave. 

Mel corners you after breakfast, a familiar offending piece of clothing in her hands. “This could be it,” she explains, offering you the jean jacket. 

If it were any year previous, you might have worn it. If you didn’t have Brayden, you might have worn it. If Nate had offered it to you himself alongside a confession, you might have worn it. 

None of these things are true, and so you decline. “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

Her smile has a twinge of sadness and understanding as she replies, “Okay.”

-

Sitting alongside the girls in the box with your cropped sweater hiding the 21 necklace around your neck, you’ve never felt more torn. 

Brayden’s captain nets one early in the first, and you’re not sure you breathe again until Nate’s powerplay evens the score early in the second. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the box alongside the nervous energy. Midway through the second, Arturri tips it in and Amalie Arena is silent. 

It stays like that for the rest of the period until you excuse yourself to grab a drink at intermission. Standing in the long drink line, you spot a little girl in a Point jersey and your stomach twists as you think about how no matter which way this ends, someone you care for will be hurt. 

That feeling doesn’t leave as you sit through a scoreless third period. The arena gets loud with Bolts fans throughout, celebrating every blocked shot and turnover. That intensity picks up in the dying seconds of the game as Brayden picks off the puck in the defensive zone. 

He rushes up the ice flanked by his linemates, but is momentarily stopped by Cale. 

He gets his stick back on the puck and your nails dig into the leather arm of the box seat. Suzanna grabs your hand, assuming it’s worry for her boyfriend and his teammates and you let her think that and hold your hand. 

Three seconds. 

Two seconds. 

He shoots right as the buzzer sounds and Darcy gloves it down like there was never a question of him stopping it. 

The entire box explodes in a chorus of cheers—there’s shouting, swearing, crying, laughter and you’re right in the middle of them all. Your boys are Stanley Cup Champions. 

Someone grabs you, and then someone else joins in and suddenly you’re in the middle of a dog pile. “They fucking did it!”

You’re so fucking excited, incredibly proud and honestly a little weepy about your favorite people finally getting their hands on their childhood dream. But, a bigger part of the organ in your chest than you want to admit aches for the downturn of Brayden’s head as he skates back to the bench. 

An attendant appears and wrangles the rowdy bunch down to the ice. You’ve got Linnea Landeskog in your arms and a giant grin on your face as your feet touch the ice.

“Down please,” she politely states while trying to wriggle out of your grasp. The second she’s down she’s running at her daddy who sweeps her up in his arms. 

And then Nate’s on you in a way that you used to long for when you were younger. He’s red and sweaty and out of breath but none of these things stop him from hauling you up into his arms and spinning you until you smack at his chest, demanding to be let down much like Linnea only minutes ago. 

He stops spinning but he doesn’t let go, staring up at you with a look he’s never given you before. You’re so caught up in the excitement of it all you barely notice, grabbing his cheeks and shouting in his face, “You fucking did it!”

“We fucking did,” he says like he can’t believe this moment is happening—whether that’s due to you in his arms or the Cup that will now bear his name no one can really say. He kind of looks like he’s about to do something stupid, leaning in ever so slightly, and so you finally succeed at leaving his arms, slipping slightly as you reach the ice once again. Brayden is watching from across the ice, a sad look on his face that you just want to kiss off. You don’t though, just pat Nate on the back once and continue moving, throwing yourself at Cale, then Burky, then Mikko.

It’s a blur of celebrations and photos with the Cup—you even let Linnea convince you to take a photo with her and the Cup, her mom remarking that it looks good on you. When you pull from your photo pose, you give her a questioning look. “A baby and a cup,” she smirks, blatantly looking over at Nate who seems to agree. 

You laugh nervously—last year that was all you wanted, the boys to win and Nate to want you in that way. Now? Now you can picture it still, you just picture it with someone else. 

Finally, you’re able to sneak away and Brayden has the same idea, telling you to meet him in a closet by the locker room. No words are exchanged as he pulls you in by your hips and kisses you like he needs it to breathe. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and you mean it. 

A crinkle forms between his eyes. “No you’re not.”

You kiss him again once, “I’m not sorry the boys won tonight, but I am sorry it was against you.”

“There’s always next year.” It’s far more flippant than you had anticipated, really you thought you’d be dealing with an upset Brayden and that might have broken your heart. 

“I thought you’d be more upset.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” he says and you give him a look to be serious. “So what, we didn’t win the Cup this season. I got you, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off, dont be stupid.” Your cheeks are hot and your eyes are wild. 

“I mean it. I’d take you over the Cup nine times out of ten.”

“What about the other one?” 

“Need to win another one for us to put our future babies in.”

“Awfully presumptuous for a hook up.” 

“This is so much more than a hook up.”

“Yeah,” you admit, sinking deeply into another kiss. 

“Besides,” he pauses, “Already got two rings.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay I gotta go. Will you come get me later?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid to ask, like he’d go into the pits of hell itself for you without hesitation. “Of course. Now go. Celebrate. I’ll see you later.”

You slip out first, making sure the coast is clear and go find the others. A Stanley Cup Champion hat is placed upon your head and a bottle of champagne in your hand. There’s a celebration in the visitor locker room and then the party moves to a local bar. 

Someone shells out the money for a few bottles of vintage Dom Perignon that you indulge in, but mostly you just relish in the happiness of everyone around you. If you’re honest, you spend a fair amount of time avoiding Nate who has a serious look every time you catch him staring. 

Shortly before midnight, you slip out of the bar and into Brayden’s waiting car. The bubbly must have gone to your head, because you forgo any verbal greeting in favor of launching yourself over the center console to press your lips to his. 

He pulls away and very somberly states, “I can’t take you seriously in that sweater.”

Looking down, you spot the Avalanche crop and laugh as you pull it off and toss it in the back. “Better?”

He hums, fingertip tracing the chain around your neck from your clavicle down between your breasts to reveal his number on the pendant. “Much.”

You sink back into another kiss before remembering where you are, who you’re with and what you’re doing meanwhile the bar you just left is crawling with people you’re not quite ready to come clean to just yet. 

“Take me home, Bray,” you say as you relax back into the passenger seat. 

You don’t have the power to bring your lover the Stanley Cup your friends were just drinking out of. All you have to offer is yourself, but he accepts it with as much gratitude as your best friend accepted the Cup earlier. 

Later, he looks like he wants to ask you to stay, and you think you look like you want him to. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter as you fall asleep next to him and somehow make it back to your hotel room in the morning with no one the wiser. 

-

Nate spends a few more weeks in Denver after the win, celebrating with the guys and riding the high of winning it all. You only spend a couple days and then move out of his house and back into your parents. 

You don’t tell him about Brayden, content to let Nate enjoy his successes. 

As a consequence, you don’t see much of him in July or August. Even when you’re both home, he’s busy with all his other friends and his family, and you’re busy with your niece and deciding on what to do in the fall. You’ve determined the best course of action is to finish your degree and then apply to a masters program in order to change your career path. 

The choice, then, is where to do so. You can stay at home, commute an hour each way into the city—supported by your hometown friends and your family. Or you can make the shift to Denver for real, with your found family and with Nate. Or…

The University of Tampa Bay has an excellent program. You know from your time visiting Brayden through the season that the university is right around the corner from Amalie Arena and Brayden’s. It’s awfully presumptuous, but you find yourself daydreaming about the possibility much like you used to daydream about a future in Denver. 

Of course, there’s an entire continent of possibilities, hell an entire world of possibilities, but these are the three most attractive options. 

There are many discussions to be had, and choices to be made. You don’t want to do either until you’ve had a chance to speak to Brayden in person, but just as Nate’s had a busy summer, so too has he. 

He messages you every morning before and after working out while you’re still asleep. Every conversation eventually devolves into some combination of ‘I miss you’ and ‘when can I see you?’ 

You do manage to spend a few days with him in the Rockies mid-July that fly by far too quickly. Every time you leave Brayden it gets harder and the implications of it all have your stomach in knots when the thought crosses your mind. 

-

It all comes to a head spectacularly the day before Nate’s day with the Cup. You’re at Nate’s, helping to prepare for the post-parade celebration when you’re called away by his sister. She wants your help deciding on which photos to display—it’s a mixture of past and present alongside an elementary school assignment two decades old wherein Nate declared his future profession would be ‘Stanley Cup Champion.’

You’re smiling, lost in the memories when Nate comes crashing into the room you’re in. There’s an indiscernible look on his face, but it reads somewhere between anger, frustration and hurt. The look on your face betrays your confusion, and it only deepens when you see your phone in his hands. 

“What are you doing with my phone?” you ask. 

His jaw ticks. “Thought it was mine.”

It doesn’t really do anything for your confusion. If anything, it deepens it. “What’s your problem Nate?”

“This! This is my problem.” He finally cracks, shoving your phone in your face to reveal messages from Brayden—under the contact name of the letter B and a heart—wondering when you plan on making the trip to Calgary to see him. Your stomach drops and your heart feels like it’s at risk of falling right out your chest. It was always going to come out, but especially as you crossed the line between sharing body heat with Brayden and sharing your secrets, hopes and dreams. 

That being said, it is a shit way for your relationship to come to light for sure, but you can’t help but feel your friend is overreacting. Sarah is looking between the two of you, panicked and frozen like she doesn’t know what to do. 

“I think your mom could use some help in the backyard, Sar,” you say gently, and she gladly takes the opportunity to flee. Once she’s gone, you turn on Nate. “I’m sorry that you found out this way, but you had no right to come in here like that. Poor Sarah looked terrified!”

He looks at you incredulously. Now that his sister is out of ear shot, he appears to have allowed himself to lean into his emotions a little more. “I have no right? What about you? Hooking up with some random guy in Calgary? Is that where you’ve been running off to these past few months?”

You know that this is probably the least important part of his rant, but you feel the need to clarify. “He’s not just some guy, Nate. His name is Brayden. And for the record, no. I wasn’t in Calgary, I was in Tampa.

He looks confused in addition to enraged, and so you put the pieces together for him. “I’ve been seeing Brayden Point.”

“You’ve been sleeping with the enemy?”

“Are you joking?” 

This is not your friend Nate. This is some angry being inhabiting the body of your friend Nate. 

He doesn’t back down. “It was between us and them in the final, pretty sure that qualifies as the enemy!” He pauses for a second and then continues, “How long have you been sleeping with him? During the final? Were you rooting for him instead?”

“Nate—“

“No, don’t Nate me. I bet you were, I bet you wanted them to win, him to win. I bet you were sitting there in the family box, using tickets I paid for, against me the whole time.”

“That’s not fair!” you try to interject, despite the tiny grain of truth to his words. It would be untrue to say some small part of you wanted Brayden to succeed, but your loyalties have always been with Nate and his team. 

“Don’t bother. I wouldn’t trust a thing you said right now. Not after this. Not when you know.” 

“Know what?” you question. 

“How I feel! About you. And me.” The blurred edges start to come into focus. He’s been acting like a man scorned, because in his eyes he is one. 

Unable to form any coherent thought, you repeat yourself from earlier. “Are you joking?”

He’s less angry now, slipping further into the hurt brewing under the surface. “It’s always been us. Since we were kids. And now you’re messing around with some guy on another team. I can't believe you!”

The tears start to pool at your waterline, but you’re too stubborn to let them fall. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You string me along for years and years and years, expecting me to play the part of your girlfriend without being your girlfriend and to wait around for you to figure it out. I am sorry you found out like this, but I’m not sorry about him. I’m not sorry about Brayden.”

He flinches at the sound of Brayden’s name, the anger clouding his eyes even further. “You want him so bad, why don’t you go to him right now?”

“Nate—“ You’re not sure he knows what he’s saying, what the implications of all he’s said really are. What it would mean if you left for Calgary this afternoon. What it would be like if you weren’t there tomorrow to join in his celebrations.

“Go.” When you don’t move he speaks again. “Get out of here.”

He hasn’t raised his fists or even his voice, but you do as he suggests. Calmly, begging the tears not to fall, you walk right out of his house and get in your car and you drive. 

Brayden picks up when you call while driving, and there’s a ticket in your inbox before you’ve even made it home. 

A short layover in Toronto—and with nothing but the clothes on your back and a small carry- on—later, you’re sinking into Brayden’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head where it’s buried in his chest. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaving hundreds of words unspoken in your gratitude. 

The kiss he pressed to your lips and the way he says ‘Anything for you’ tells you that he understands. 

He’s got his own place in an affluent suburb of the city, and you’re grateful for the fact that you won’t have to see anyone else with your puffy, bloodshot eyes. 

The last time you’d cried this hard, it had been over the loss of your childhood dog. Nate had been there then, flying in after a late game to hold you while you cried. Maybe you had misunderstood his feelings for you, missed the signs he thought he had laid out so clearly. Maybe that would have mattered a year ago. 

It doesn’t, now. 

Not when Brayden’s arms feel like home. His warm gaze feels like the sun. His kiss and his touch feel like heaven on earth. His love feels like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Your world nearly stopped in Nate’s living room, but it resumed spinning here in Brayden’s bedroom. 

You’re curled up on his chest while he soothingly runs a hand along your spine when you tell him. “I love you.”

His hand stills on the middle of your back, but you don’t panic. Your mind and heart are clear and in unison. He doesn’t make you wait long, cupping the back of your head and tilting your head back ever so slightly so that your eyes meet. 

“Yeah?” he asks like maybe he needs the validation. 

“Yeah,” you reply, giving it to him. 

The grin on his face might be worth everything you’ve been through. 

You squeal as he flips the both of you, ending in a position where his arms bracket either side of your head in order to keep from crushing you with his full weight. 

“I love you,” he repeats, kissing every inch of your exposed skin. 

Tangling your fingertips in the hair at the nape of his neck, you say it again and again and again. It’s a chant and a ritual, told between sighs and moans and whimpers. He strips you of your clothes, taking you apart piece by piece and then putting them all back together. 

It is intimate and sweet as he takes you to the highest peak, hearts and limbs and minds all intertwined. There is no doubt, no insecurity, no hesitation. All of the love you have to give is reflected back at you. You and Brayden are two sides of the same coin, destiny and fate and all the good forces in the world have brought the two of you together. 

That’s why when, in the dark of his room later, you say yes when he asks you to move in. 

-

Despite the apparent suddenness, your family is more than supportive of you and Brayden. Though that may be because he charmed the pants off all of them the following week when returning to your childhood bedroom to pack your things. 

Your niece is delighted when she learns that Brayden’s “job is hockey!” as she so sweetly declares, requesting he win her a Cup too. 

It reminds you of Nate and how you haven’t heard from him. You don’t reach out either. 

Your time in Calgary is short, punctuated by the bittersweet news that although many of your credits will transfer over, you’re not able to start college classes at the University of Tampa until the second semester. 

“Now you can come with me on all my road games,” Brayden says when you tell him. 

“Fat chance.”

Training camp sneaks up on you both and before you know it, you’re making the permanent move into Brayden’s bedroom and his life, publicly this time. 

The Tampa WAGs are sweet and welcoming, but you find yourself missing the Colorado Better Halves. That’s probably why you agree to dinner with Heidy the first time in the season that the Avs are in town. 

You make plans to meet at a cute spot downtown near the arena. 

The minute you spot Nate waiting outside, you start to turn around. Not so much as an Instagram like since the day before his day with the Cup and now he’s at one of your favorite restaurants in Tampa like everything is okay?

“Wait,” he says and for some reason you do, pausing mid turn. “I’m sorry.”

That’s enough to have you turning back around to look him in the eye as you scold him. “Really? I haven’t heard a word from you in months and that’s what you have to say?”

“I know,” he says. 

“You were really shitty Nate! You knew how I felt and apparently felt the same way, but you just took advantage of me and my feelings for you for years! And then, you made me feel like trash for falling for someone else.”

“I know,” he says again. 

“Can you say literally anything other than I know?” you say exasperatedly. 

“I—“ he starts and stops with the look you give him. “I don’t have a good explanation for the first bit. You’re right, I’ve been taking you for granted for a long time. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared to lose you if we ever crossed that line.”

“I get that,” you reply. “Why do you think I never said anything either? I’m less mad about that and more mad about you being a giant asshole about me meeting someone.”

He nods. “I know. I was jealous and hurt and I lashed out and hurt you too. I never meant for it to get like this, but the longer it took for me to reach out and apologize the harder it seemed. I am really sorry, and I’m happy you found someone who treats you the way you deserve.”

It’s a sincere apology and one you’re certain he means. Beyond that, you just miss your best friend and so you throw yourself at him in a big hug. He’s startled, but very quickly wraps his arms around you too. 

“Things aren’t magically okay, you really hurt me, but you’re my best friend and I’ve missed you so much. There’s been a million times where something happened and I wanted to tell you about it, but couldn’t.”

“You’re my best friend,” he says. 

Nate scores a goal during the second period of the game but it’s not enough for the Avalanche. 

Brayden comes home the clear winner to find you curled up in his bed. First he undresses and then he slips into bed beside you. 

“Glad you made up with Nate,” he says, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Glad you won,” you reply, feeling the way his lips curve in a smile against your neck and knowing he’s about to say something stupid and cringe. 

“In more ways than one, baby,” he laughs, caging you in with his arm as you struggle to get away from him and his bad jokes. “In more ways than one.”

Despite the way you playfully try to escape his clutches, the truth is you feel like you’re the real winner. 

[waechan]

nct dream maknae line; small moments

just little moments with each member.

fluff, slight angst (mostly cute)

⋆.˚

jaemin na

saw him one day while you were eating at a restaurant

this guy was just taking pictures of things

smiling at every little detail he saw

eventually his camera pointed at you

you froze, caught staring

"smile!" he says as he smiles

his smiles kinda cute

turns out you like photography too (okay maybe you were just tryna talk to him...)

he asks you to meet again at a spot you suggested that is near your house and has a beautiful view

you guys are dating now and you guys always take turns recommending places to take pictures at

he found out you didn't really know much about photography...

but its okay!

he teaches you

you take photos for him now

well, more like photos of him but its okay

cause he takes photos of you too

its your birthday, and he's holding something behind his back

he pulls it out from behind him

it's a photo album of all the moments he's captured of you without you noticing

"i love you more than these photos"

"and i really love these photos<3"

2. chenle zhong

idk why i thought of this as the first thing that came to my mind but

a boy who had to grow up too fast (i'm in love with soft chenle)

he has always felt responsibility for everyone around him

never had time to process what was going on

truly cared for everyone he met

you saw him one day at the grocery store, looking at his list, then at the items, confused, frustrated

you walk up to him

"do you need help?"

he shakes his head

then hesitates

his face softens

"yes, please" he says gently

you wanted to take care of him as soon as you saw him

now that the two of you are closer he shows you the side to him that not many people get to see

his crazy laughs where he throws his head back and cackles

when he bounces up and down like a puppy

asks you for reassurance

you were so in love with this boy.

and he didn't know how to tell you, but he was in love with you too.

3. jisung park

the boy who never really got the chance to feel alive.

jisung was always silent

you were neighbors, and you always saw him walking around

earbuds in, face grim, hoodie on

one day you see him walking outside late at night, and you run out to meet him

why were your legs carrying you towards this boy?

"jisung, i know you don't know me very well, but- wanna go for a drive?"

hesitation flashes across his face

"now...?" he says, genuinely confused

"come on."

he goes with you

is silent the entire way

you pull up to a beach

he steps out, eyes wide in wonder

"have you never been to a beach?"

it ends up being your place.

the two of you visit every week, and just walk around, looking at the stars

one day, about a month later, you follow him as he runs towards the sea, arms out wide as he engulfs the fresh air.

you meet gazes and his eyes crinkle as he mouths to you:

"thank you."

"thank you so much."

⋆.˚

i hope you guys liked my first couple blurbs on this account! please interact to encourage me lol i need ideas:)