#this was a long trip to nostalgia land

[likeumeanit9497]

the re-do, pt. 2 | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: one more time won't hurt anyone...right?

warnings: SMUT!!!; established friendship; unprotected p in v; fingering; dirty talk; choking; hair pulling; slapping; sneaking around; 18+

notes: here it isssss. in honour of almost hitting 1000 followers (WHAT?!?!?!), i wanted to release a part 2 to my most loved fic!! im currently posting this less than 24 hours before i leave for my trip to europe (yay!!), but unfortunately it'll be the last one i'll be posting for a while. saying that, i'll be back home august 1st and knowing me ill want to get right back into writing, so pls feel free to continue to drop requests over the next few weeks (as long as ur okay with waiting for a while!!!). thanks so much for all the love ya'll, ur the ones who make this whole thing so much fun!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

Walking up to the triplets’ front door, I didn’t knock before turning the knob and entering the warm, familiar home. Nick, Matt, and Chris were finally home in Boston for a few weeks, and I was so excited to see them for the first time in months. They had just landed this afternoon, and although I told them I could give them some time to settle in, I couldn’t stop myself from driving over to theirs as soon as Nick sent me a photo of Trevor; proof that they were home and settled in enough.

“There she is!” Mary-Lou’s cheerful voice greeted me once I walked up the steps and into the kitchen. I didn’t have a chance to say hello before her arms were wrapped tightly around my frame; embracing me in a comforting hug. “How are you sweetheart?” She asked once she released me from her grip. I smiled. “I’m good! I’ve missed you all though.” I replied as she rubbed her hands up and down my arms affectionately. “I’ve missed you too! You hungry? I’m just finishing up some Shepard’s pie.” She walked back over to the oven, opening it slightly to check on its contents. “You know I could never turn down your Shepard’s pie.” I laughed.

“Where are the guys?” I asked, peering at the closed kitchen door. “Oh, they’re in the living room. I had to lock them out of here, they were driving me nuts!” She chuckled, pulling the casserole out of the oven. “You go ahead.” She urged, gesturing to the closed door. Sending her a warm smile, I opened the door and my eyes immediately fell on my three best friends sitting together on the couch in the living room.

“Y/n!” Shouted Nick, throwing his hands up in the air from his place on the couch. Matt and Chris both simultaneously peeled their eyes away from the screen and looked in my direction; their faces lighting up in smiles immediately before they all stood up to greet me. I hurried over to them and went in to hug Nick first, Chris next, then finally Matt.

I hadn’t seen Matt since the last time I visited them in Los Angeles, which also happened to be the time when him and I had fucked after filming their rated r Youtube video. Just like the time we had lost our virginities to each other, we hadn’t let the sex interfere with our friendship at all, and things hadn’t really changed in any way. Obviously, thanks to Matt’s failure at muting the Discord server, Chris and Nick were much too aware of exactly what had happened that night. But besides the painfully awkward morning after when I walked out of Matt’s room to find them eating breakfast — both avoiding eye contact with me entirely — things were fine with them as well. Once we spoke to Nick and Chris about it, we had convinced them both — as well as ourselves — that what had happened that night was simply a fleeting moment of nostalgia brought on by talking about our first time together.

But I would be lying if I said that as soon as I felt Matt’s hands on me I didn’t feel a shiver down my spine; or that when he whispered a breathy “I miss you” in my ear, I didn’t want to tear all of his clothes off right then and there. The sex we had that night, although spontaneous and probably wrong, was the best sex I had ever had. Once I left Los Angeles and made it back to Boston, I had fucked a handful of other guys — just trying to come even slightly close to feeling the way I had that night — only to be left feeling more and more disappointed. Matt and I knew each other far too well, and in some way it was like our bodies were tied to the other — first by losing our virginities to one another but then furthered by the crazy sex we had years later. I had accepted the fact that sex just wasn’t ever gonna be like that again, but now feeling him pressing against me, all of that acceptance just immediately vanished.

“How’s mom doing on dinner?” Chris asked, startling me out of my trance and walking in the direction of the kitchen door as I pulled away from Matt. “I think it’s almost done. But I was told you were banished from the kitchen, so stay away please.” I replied, walking over to him and tugging on his arm to draw him away from the door. Just then, the door opened and Mary-Lou appeared holding her own plate of food. “Please don’t destroy my kitchen.” Was all she said as she walked to the dining table with her plate, sighing as she did.

𓆩☆𓆪

After we all polished off the Shepard’s pie, we ended up on the couch watching a hockey game. I had curled up in a blanket between Matt to my right and Chris to my left, and was bathing in the contentment of just sitting with them in their family home, just like we did as kids. Even though I couldn’t give a shit less about whatever was happening on the screen, I couldn’t help but smile when one of them would scream, curse, or cheer as the game continued. As Chris was doing just that, I was pulled from my languid stupor by Matt tugging on the blanket that was wrapped around me; clearly wanting to share.

After spending some time with the guys, my filthy thoughts of Matt began to dissipate. After months of not seeing them, I had far too much time to stew over all of the flashbacks I got; causing me to create a certain image of him in my mind that had differed to the one I had of him before. But, after spending time with him in-person, I was reminded of the fact that he’s the same old Matt that I’ve known for years, and I was just too caught up in that one night.

Then, as if he was reading my mind, I felt fingertips gently graze my right thigh under the blanket. Immediately, my body began to react, and every place he touched felt like it was being set on fire. I gulped, and adjusted myself slightly before forcing my eyes to focus on the screen in front of me; deciding that ignoring these touches was the best thing that I could do. Still, he was relentless. His hand continued to travel all across my thigh, just a whisper of contact as if he knew it would drive me crazy. I shuddered, but played it off by pulling the blanket against me as if I was cold. Even though I knew he could tell that I was affected by his touch, I knew that my lack of acknowledgement was surely driving him crazy. My hunch was confirmed when he brushed his fingers lightly against my clothed heat; causing me to intake a sharp breath that I had to immediately hide with a cough.

This caught Chris’ attention, and he fixed his gaze on me. “You okay Y/n?” He asked, and I nodded frantically. “Mhmm. Just a cough.” My response was hitched as Matt’s fingers continued to tease me, and as soon as Chris fixed his gaze back on the tv, I grabbed his hand under the blanket and held it still; turning to give him a sharp glare. Once I turned to face him, I was met with a taunting smirk that caused something to stir inside of me. He then used his eyes to wordlessly gesture to the staircase; clearly proposing that we go upstairs.

I’m not sure how I gained the self control, but somehow I was able to shake my head sternly before drawing my attention once again back to the game. His hand stayed still, but it still rested on my thigh and I could feel myself vibrating under his touch. Then, he retracted his hand from the blanket and I had to stop myself from groaning from the loss of contact; knowing that I shouldn’t want to feel it again. From the corner of my eye, I saw him unlock his phone and felt myself relax slightly knowing that he had something to distract him.

Think again.

I felt my own phone vibrate in the pocket of my hoodie, and reaching under the blanket, I pulled it out to find a text from no other than Matt.

Matt: I need you

I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping at his text, and I turned to face him but found him looking straight ahead at the game. Sighing, I decided to respond over text after turning my brightness all the way down to keep Chris from catching a glimpse.

Y/n: matt. we can’t.

I heard his phone vibrate beside me, and kept my gaze away from him as he picked it up. I only had to wait a few seconds for a response.

Matt: Yes we can

Matt: Please Y/n.

The clear desperation in his texts went straight to my core, and I felt myself on the verge of dissolving into a puddle right then and there. To make things even worse, Matt snaked his hands back under the blanket, grabbing my own and drawing it towards the crotch of his jeans. There, his cock was already rock hard, and I really had to keep myself from straddling him right there. I turned to my left to get a quick glance at Nick and Chris beside me. Nick was curled onto the couch, seemingly sound asleep, and Chris was fully entranced by the hockey game. Just then, a commercial break came on, and I turned to face Matt and gave him a soft nod. Immediately, a sinister smile crossed his face before he put his phone away and cleared his throat.

“Oh my god Y/n I forgot to show you the clothes I bought before I left LA. Remember you texted me earlier today telling me you wanted to see?” His lie fell from his mouth effortlessly, and if I didn’t know that he had ulterior motives I would never come even close to feeling suspicious. Without missing a beat, I followed along in his little lie. “Oh yeah! Where are they?” I responded, doing everything I could to keep my tone as nonchalant as his. “Up in my room, I haven’t unpacked yet. Wanna go see them now?” I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling. “Sure.” Was all I was able to say in response before hurriedly standing up from the couch. Matt shifted slightly under the blanket for a moment, obviously tucking his boner into the waistband of his pants so that it wouldn’t be noticeable, before following me towards the stairs. “Don’t be long!” Shouted Chris from behind us, “Ya’ll are gonna miss a good ass game.”

Quickly, the two of us climbed the stairs, doing our best to keep our composure until we were behind closed doors. We rushed into Matt’s bedroom, him entering before me, and I turned to quickly shut the door. Before I could even face his room, Matt pinned me to the door and his lips were on mine. A groan immediately fell from his lips as I opened my mouth to grant his tongue access; losing all sense of control as his hands roamed every inch of my body. My own hands flew to his hair, holding his face against mine as the kiss deepened even more. Our tongues swirled around each other, our mutual hunger for one another taking an almost literal form.

One of Matt’s hands travelled up my chest, tearing my hoodie up over my head in the process, before attaching to my throat. I gasped at the pressure, feeling my panties flood with arousal, and he tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away from the kiss; gazing down harshly at me. “How many guys have you fucked since I saw you last.” His voice was gravelly with lust, and his tone was so ominous that if I hadn’t known Matt for as long as I had, I would be afraid. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my cheek as he slapped it. “Answer me, Y/n. How many?” I couldn’t keep the small smile from travelling to my lips from how turned on he was making me, but finally I was able to get myself to respond. “A few.” His pupils dilated.

“Oh yeah? How were they?” He was smirking, and I was thrown off by his words. Again, in my silence he slapped my cheek. At that, I couldn’t keep the lustful squeal from falling from my lips. “T-they were okay.” I lied, feeling myself tremble against the doorframe. At that, his thumb that had been soothing my sore cheek traveled to my mouth, pressing down on my lips and encouraging me to open up. I obliged, letting his thumb rest on my tongue before slowly wrapping my lips around it and sucking lightly. Matt’s eyes were glued to my mouth, but he continued speaking. “Just okay, huh?” He knew what he was doing, and I did as well, but in the state I was in I had lost all impulse control; so I fell for his trap.

“None were as good as you, Matty.”

I batted my eyelashes as I spoke, and immediately his lips were back on mine. Our mouths moved in sync as his tongue dominated mine, and I relished in the familiar taste of him. His burning desire for me fuelled my own, and as I continued to kiss him I felt myself growing more and more needy. As I released a frustrated groan into his mouth, I felt his hand travel to the waistband of my jeans where he hurriedly worked at the button and zipper. As soon as he peeled the rough material down my legs, his hand went to my heat; causing me to release a sharp breath.

“Mmm. So wet, just like last time.” He purred, dragging his mouth away from mine and down my neck; dropping wet kisses in its path. I was shaking from his touch, and subconsciously I widened my legs to give him better access to my aching core. Noticing this, he released a husky chuckle before slowly rubbing two fingers along my folds. “You missed this, didn’t you?” I immediately nodded my head as I nibbled at my bottom lip, needing him to touch me more. “I knew it.” His fingers slowly began circling my clit then, drawing satisfied moans from my mouth. “Yeah. I bet you touch yourself thinking of that night in LA,” His mouth was nibbling at my neck just below my ear, and the heat from his breath caused goosebumps to raise on my skin and my nipples to harden. “And I bet you pretend that your fingers are mine.”

Just as the words left his lips, he plunged two fingers up into me, causing me to gasp in pleasurable shock. Immediately, his fingers went to work curling up to my spongey g-spot and forcing my knees to buckle. Desperate for more contact, I wrapped a leg around his waist so that his fingers could reach even deeper into me. Hushed moans fell thoughtlessly from my mouth, and I prayed that no one in the house could hear them. I gripped helplessly onto the back of Matt’s neck as he rested his forehead against my collar bone, putting all of his effort into his plunging fingers.

“You feel good sweetheart?” He asked, his words coming out in short bursts as he continued his movements. “S-so g-good.” I replied carelessly, arching my back off of the door as I felt tension like a stretched rubber band grow in my stomach. Aching from the pressure, I reached in between my legs and began frantically rubbing my clit; desperately chasing my high. After just a brief moment, Matt looked down between my legs and, upon realizing what I was doing, slapped my hand out of the way and replaced it with his own. His fingers worked on my clit and my core simultaneously, and I lost all control over the erotic noises that poured out of my mouth.

“Shh.” Matt demanded, placing his own mouth on mine in a motionless kiss to stifle my moans. The stimulation was almost too much to handle, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of an overwhelmingly strong orgasm. “G-gonna cum.” I managed to spew out against Matt’s open mouth, and he hummed in response; keeping his pace on my heat steady. “Look at me while you cum, Y/n.” Matt’s voice was commanding, and without thinking twice I opened my pinched eyes and was met with his focused yet aroused gaze just before being overtaken by an earth-shattering orgasm.

As pleasure rippled through my body, my blurry vision never veered from his face as his fingers fucked me through my high. I bit my lip so hard that I left indents to suffocate my stream of moans before they could leave my lips. I felt myself squirt, the pressure that had built up inside of me immediately being relieved, and as I did he removed his one hand from my core and used his other to continue rubbing my clit so that the fluid sprayed all over the front of him and down my legs.

As I was still trembling through my high, I watched as Matt used his free hand to yank his jeans and boxers down his legs before plunging his hard cock into me. “Fuck.” We both gasped in unison as he sunk every inch through my walls, shuddering from the immediate pleasure that we both felt. Matt stayed still for a moment, clearly collecting himself, before pounding into me strenuously. Grasping onto his shoulders in order to stay grounded, I muttered nonsense as his cock slammed into my g-spot relentlessly.

“Fuck. Missed this pussy so fucking much.” Matt groaned in my ear, causing me to cry out as he drove his cock harder and harder into me; so hard that my head began smacking against the door frame. Suddenly, Matt’s hands snaked down to my ass, cupping it in his grasp and lifting me up. Still inside of me, he began walking me towards his bed on the far side of the room, where he placed me on the end of the bed and spun me around. I lay there like a rag doll as I let him reposition me into doggy, before I felt him slide his dick back through my opening.

“Jesus Christ.” I moaned, the new position deeper than the last as I felt every inch of him stretch out my walls and reach even further into me. Matt grabbed a fistful of my hair and I cried out as he used his grip to pull my head up off of the bead. With my back pressed against him, he covered my mouth with his hand as he peppered my sensitive neck with wet kisses. “You love my cock, don’t you baby?” He asked in a rough voice against my ear, and I nodded. Suddenly, his hand made contact with my throat and he tightened his fingers around it again. “Words, Y/n.” He said tauntingly, and I whined. “Y-yes. I love it Matt.” I managed to reply before he loosened his grip on both my throat and my hair, allowing my body to fall back onto the bed.

His hands found my hips, and he held them tightly as he continued thrusting into me. His pace was growing slightly choppier, and I smiled to myself maniacally, knowing that he was feeling good. As his rhythm slowed, I began moving my own hips up and down to meet his length. Noticing what I was doing, Matt stopped his own movements and allowed me to fuck myself on his cock. I heard his heavy breathing behind me as I continued to throw myself down on it, picking up the pace with each pump.

His hands gripped my hips tighter before he spoke. “Mmmm, slow down honey, gonna cum soon if you keep doing that.” I smiled to myself once again, and even let out a small chuckle as I continued at the same quick pace; wanting to make him feel good. The sound of wet skin slapping skin filled the space between us as I worked his cock up and down my walls, and I felt another orgasm approaching down my spine. “Matty, gonna cum again.” I whined as the build up became un-ignorable. “Me too. Turn around. Wanna see that pretty face while you take it.” His words went straight to my core, and I struggled to find the strength to do exactly what he said.

With his help, I flipped around so that I was now on my back looking right up at his naked frame. He gazed down at me with eyes so dark and filled with lust that I almost gasped from the stark difference from the Matt that I typically saw. Leaning over me, he drove his length into me again, grabbing onto my tits as he did; making me see stars. Matt grabbed onto my legs and bent them at the knees before pressing them down and allowing his cock so much access to the deepest part of my core that I almost cried in addictive pain. “You want me to cum in you baby?” He asked, his voice a whole octave lower than usual due to his aroused state. I nodded, before remembering to use my words. “P-please cum in me.” I added, feeling my own orgasm causing my walls to already begin to convulse slightly. Holding onto my knees tightly, Matt’s jaw went slack before he released a guttural moan, enough to push me over the edge for the second time tonight.

With his cock pulsing inside of me, I shook uncontrollably as my second orgasm tore through me without mercy. I clung onto anything that I could as I fought the urge to scream profanities out at the top of my lungs as my walls milked his shaft dry. Matt continued to thrust into me slowly, pushing all of his cum deep inside as he helped me come down from my high. Once my moans halted, he planted a soft kiss to my hand resting on his chest before slowly pulling his cock out of me; watching the mix of his and my cum drip from my opening.

Walking over to his closet for what I assumed was a towel, he chuckled. Still catching my breath and recovering from my tornado of an orgasm, I struggled to lift myself off of the bed. “What’s so funny?” I asked as I watched him walk over with a towel just as I suspected. Still smiling, he shook his head as he began cleaning me up. “Nothing. It’s just that shit is way too good.” I laughed myself at his words, because I unfortunately agreed. “It probably wasn’t the best idea.” I began as I stood on shaky legs to retrieve my lost articles of clothing. “The first time was purely practical. The second could be called an accident. But a third time? There’s no explaining that away.” I said as I dressed myself.

“What?” He started, walking over to where I was standing to retrieve his own pants. “You’re the one that said that good friendships include fucking each other every once in a while.” I rolled my eyes. I had said that in Los Angeles, but had meant it as a joke at the time. “I don’t know if fucking every time we’ve seen each other constitutes as ‘once in a while’.” I replied, running my hands through my messy hair in an attempt to remedy my fucked out appearance. With a sheepish smirk on his face, he shrugged. “I don’t know, I think it’s working out fine, don’t you?” I couldn’t contain my smile at this, giving away that I agreed. “And besides, no one has to know about this time. No brothers barging in, no Discord servers being left on. No one knows so there’s no need for an explanation this time.” He pulled me to his chest and hugged me for a moment, and I instantly felt more reassured.

“Ready to go? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see the score.” I laughed before pulling away from the hug and heading to his bedroom door. We walked down the stairs in a single file, and walked back into the living room with the intention of looking as inconspicuous as possible. Nick was still sound asleep, but Chris was wide awake, still staring at the tv. He was suspiciously quiet, but I allowed myself to believe that it was just because he was locked into the game, so I nonchalantly sat down on the couch beside him. Just as Matt settled onto the couch to my right, Chris cleared his throat before speaking. “So, Y/n. What was your favourite piece?” I turned to face him in confusion, and mentally scrambled to try to figure out what the fuck he was talking about. “The fuck?” I asked just as Matt pinched my thigh gently under the blanket.

As I realized that he was talking about the excuse that Matt and I had made to go upstairs, I watched as Chris’ eyes shot open and he pointed a finger between me and Matt. “I fuckin’ knew it!” I tried to speak, but I was completely incapable of forming a coherent sentence; let alone a believable lie. I heard Matt groan to my right. “You two fucked again didn’t you!” Still, silence.

Our lack of retaliation was enough to give Chris the answer he needed, and he rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, you guys are a couple of dogs.” He turned back to face the screen, but not before dramatically scooting a few centimetres away from me on the couch. I slowly turned my head to face Matt, and found him closing his eyes and biting his lip to stifle a laugh. At this, I had to cover my mouth to to the same, and I prayed that Chris couldn’t see my shoulders shaking as I laughed silently. My silent laugh seemed to be contagious, because I watched as Matt’s body began to tremble in laughter as his hand went back to casually resting on my thigh under the blanket.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader This has been living in my head

“Beautiful out, isn’t it?” 

The old woman on the docks hitches her shoulder bag higher, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance. John hums an agreement, low pitch slow to rise from his chest. It’s not a dismissal, but not conversation. Non-committal. About as much as you’ll get from him, on a day like today. 

He keeps his focus on the expanse of the bay. A metamorphic magma layered coastal cradle holding entire populations of people, and animals, those that live on land… and at sea. 

He’s waiting for a fleck of dust on the horizon, a small speck that will slowly turn into ferry, one that carries some passengers, a few packages, bundles of mail by the heap. It is beautiful today; he doesn’t disagree. But it’s not because of the weather.  It’s because the ferry is carrying more than just a few passengers home. It’s carrying his worst nightmare. The final nail in a coffin. His own personal hell.

And… 

His brightest light. His favorite part of everyday. His everything. The reason his heart still beats.

Both on the same boat. 

The sun shines through the tips of the trees, bright on his face, casting an amber yellow glow over the harbor, and he basks in it, even with the brittle cold. 

The warmth of the light is foreign this time year, a time year when creeks all run underneath a quickly thickening layer of ice, morning frost lingers beneath cloud cover, and bears sleep.  

The town will be full of life today. The bar at the top of the hill, the only one in town, will be burning the midnight oil, everyone appearing at some point throughout the night, eager to have one last rousing round with neighbors and friends before the true cold of winter sets in. 

Of course, they don’t hate the cold. They wouldn’t live here if they did. 

Life is different in the winter. Year round. Life here revolves more around the weather and the seasons than anywhere else he’s ever been, or lived, and everything from the kelp to the whales, the deer and sea lions, the people, and the wolves, depend on the promise of perpetual change. 

The tide washes through little pebbles of ancient volcanic rock like a lullaby, one so familiar he swears he can hear it when he’s working, when he’s worlds away in his mind. It’s peaceful, full of memories, nostalgia beating in his blood for something long gone, long past. 

His heart aches, for a moment. Long enough that his brow furrows, and his hands find his pocket, anxiously feeling for the chain. 

The ferry shatters his memories, blaring across the beach, and the old woman gives him a smile. 

“Early today.” This time, John does respond. 

“Good.” 

“You must be John.” She offers her hand, face half hidden beneath a large hood and knit muff, black pants and coat nearly matching his. 

He hesitates, fingers flexing, and she doesn’t miss a beat, moving on to step around him, speaking briefly to the ferry captain, an old grizzled man who stared at John the entire trip, blatant curiosity wrinkling his frown lines. 

The wind cuts through his jacket, snaking beneath his layers, forcing his muscles tense. 

Bloody freezing. He's been cold, plenty, but this bitterness has bite.

She squints and jerks her head towards the end of the dock, sunlight glittering in her eyes. They’re beautiful, a rich shade of coffee and hazel, golden spotted and drusy, a cluster of crystals inside dark pupils. They’re a color he could drown in. The kind of eyes he could see in his dreams for the rest of his life.

The kind of eyes capable of disarming him, before he's even drawn a weapon.

“C’mon. Truck’s got heat.” 

“Mari says you’ve never been a Ranger before.” She tries to make casual conversation with him, patting the steering wheel as the truck sputters to life. Gears grind, they churn, and she smiles, glancing at the road before putting it in gear. It’s old, rusted in a quaint way, the kind that makes him think of old industrial parks and aging tanks, a rugged red chipped away above the passenger wheel well, rubbed raw by salt air. 

“I have… relative experience.” He’s careful with his words, hesitant about over divulging, and she shrugs. 

“With people? Or wildlife?” He points his face out the window. With people, sure. With bears and wolves and whatever else lurks in these woods, less so. 

The truck climbs a windy road, pushing up above the cove, narrow pitted pavement flanked by forest so black he can hardly see a meter inside the tree line. The shadow that lingers inside the tree line is primordial, alive, and he blinks when he thinks he sees something moving, deep in the dark. Douglas fir, silver fir, white pine flash by, occasional road signs with pictures of animals and speed limits dotting the way. “Logging is big industry out here. Forestry feeds a lot of families in this area, but it can be a point of contention.” She motions past him to another cove, one tucked just around the bend from where the ferry came in, its surface covered in shaved logs, all nearly uniform in size, floating together in rows upon rows, waiting for their next voyage. 

“That what you do? Er… logging?” Her hands are rough, skin cracked, nails trimmed short, and the coat is utility. Built for labor. For weather. It’s a natural conclusion. 

“No. I run the nature center in the late spring and summer. No tourism in fall or winter though, so I find other things to do. Work for the park. Tag trees. Winter trail maintenance. Wildlife management.” The truck rattles into a left turn, and she waves at someone in an oncoming car. “Guess I kinda work for you now.” Her chuckle is light, sweet, and his cheeks feel warm. “What brought you all the way up here?” 

Bloody hell. 

“Needed a change of pace.” 

“Long way to come for a change.” She muses, and he agrees. It is very, very far. Three planes, two ferries, this truck. Hours of travel, temperature dropping in ten degree increments every time he stepped outside. He doesn’t know how to answer that, how to tell her, what he’s doing here, how to say he had to leave things behind. 

The island changes, geology shifting, granite turning to mud and grass, darkness fading as the truck putters into its final descent.

He instinctively taps the tags in his pocket, a nervous tic that’s develops over the last few months since he took them off for the last time and clears his throat. 

“Yes. It is.” 

The ferry sidles up the wooden dock, rocking in the waves, captain giving the small, older woman next to him a friendly wave. At his side, a woman stands, straight backed and proud, eyes sharp against the setting sun. 

Is that…

You catch his gaze, glancing at the Ranger badge on his coat, and then nodding, hand lifting in acknowledgement. 

His breath freezes in his chest. You’re stunning. Beautiful, like the land, like the strait, and for a second, he forgets himself. 

Igneous rock hardens in his stomach, in his heart.

He's lost at sea. Lost in the swell. An eddy line of devastation sweeps him out, past the lighthouse on the rocks, past the pod of resident orcas, past the point of no return.

He's drowning.

Only to be brought back by one of his favorite sounds in the entire world. 

“Dad!”

[valsdelulucorner]

Thrown into one world, taken from another

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

Oh boy, where to even start.

The past few years have been crazy enough, being plucked out of the human world and thrown into the land of demons and witches. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, you got used to it after a while when you were no longer target number one. You even befriended the 7 lords of hell, even befriending the soon to be king of hell itself.

You had alot to show for it aswell, 7 gorgeous pact marks aligning your arms, each corresponding to the avatar of sin it belonged to. With afew years of devildom experience under your belt, your life was quite comfortable. But nothing ever lasts forever, it was getting to peaceful around here, well at least for devildom standards.

It was just supposed to be a quite trip to the human world, it wasn't an open invitation for you to be kidnapped to another world for a second time. Though this time it was alot more ominous compared to the time you literally got whisked away to hell, having to break out of a coffin just to be met with a screeching rat creature, wait, not a rat, a cat?

The new world had constant references to different Disney media but it has all been dating sim-ified, it was so exiting to go exploring around the world here, trying to spot out each different Disney reference. Though you couldn't help but miss your demons back home, the fact that everyone thought you were just some broke, magicless student did not help the feeling of home sickness.

Just like in Devildom, you had to restart your life all over again from the start, just starting out as someone everyone just overlooked. Ironic isn't it. The biggest shock out of the entire world had to be the overblots (and the fact Crowley is so god damn incompetent), the first time you saw one brought you back to the time the demon brothers tried to end you, it was scary. It had a sick an twisted sense of nostalgia intertwined into it. Having going through a seven of these events, you were quite frankly ready to go home now.

Even after all of the overblots happened, life still goes on and so did everything else, life doesn't stop for you even when you really need it to. But for the first time in what seemed like forever, it was actually peaceful in the Ramshakle dorm, everyone gathered together to study or to look into part time/ full jobs. It was strangely nice, each dorm head and their respective party just relaxing in their pajamas, mattresses and sleeping bags covering the creaky wooden planks of the Ramshackle main room. Books, papers, and different small plates of food scattered around their respective people, your friends interacting in a civil (or as civil as you can get) manner was such a refreshing change, no longer having to break up any fights.

You sat on the sofa with a warm drink in your hands, the first years surrounding you aswell as grim, scabbing any food he could find from you lot. You were brought out of your thoughts when you get a sharp pain shooting through one of your pact marks, you had almost forgotten about them, them always being hidden under the long sleeves you were. As you wince, a certain weasel seemed to notice.

"Oi, henchman, why does your face look like that." grim piped up as he climbed up onto the sofa, bringing the attention of the first years and a certain horned friend. "Thanks grim" You half joked as you held your warm drink, you hands slightly shaking due to another sharp shot of pain up your wrists, gaining a huff from the creature "Oh you know i didn't mean it like that" "yeah, what the weasel says, your not normally shaken' prefect" Ace gives you a raised eyebrow as he sees you starting to fidget alot, scratching at your arms from above your sleeves. You didn't respond, seeming out of it as it caught the attention of the first years.

The pains just got worse and worse, continuous sharp pains shooting up your arms and agitating all seven pact marks. It only brought on confusion as you rushed to the kitchen, pulling up your sleeves to try and easy the pain with some water under the cold tap. It was only then that you noticed the pact marks glowing, though they have glowed before, it never came with the unbearable pain. Being nonchalant wasn't a choice anymore, the kitchen was literally lighting up because of the 7 marks on your arms, bringing everyone's unwanted attention over to you, humiliating.

The pain was only getting worse, a sick mix of stabbing and burning pains shooting up your arms and shoulders as you managed to choke out a sob, the first years being over to your side faster the you could say 'ow'. Epel and deuce were trying to help you with the strange marks on your arms, jack being there to rub your back while sebek, grim and ace question you about your current state and the marks. Your little group may get on your nerves sometimes but when it comes to it, they are always there for eachother.

All of the commotion from the kitchen and the sounds of your sobs brought everyone in and around the kitchen, was it a spell gone wrong? Was it a curse? Was your drink spiked? However, their questions were left un-answered as the reflection from the fridge started to shift and morph into strange shapes, a strong force starting to pull the pacts to it. Confusion turned to pure panic as the magicless prefect started to get dragged into the reflection, each one of the first years holding onto your body as they try and save you from whatever force was trying to take you away. Malleus even stepped in, getting afew others to step in and try and help you but even that wasn't enough.

Even for the Fae prince, the force was far to powerful for him and it dragged you away from your friends, pulling you into the reflection of the fridge. The last thing you could hear were their voices screaming out your name.

.

. .

. . .

. . . .

A bright light covered your vision entirely, the unbearable pain from your arms finally stopped. It was like being in limbo, you were conscious but you couldn't move, instead being embraced in a soft hug.

.... The hug felt tight though, it felt real. The peaceful atmosphere started to fall apart as voices rang through your ears, familiar, comforting voices. You finally snapped back into consciousness, hearing 7 muffled voices in your ears. With a groan and a head turn, you saw a sobbing Asmodeus clinging to your stomach as mammon and levi held onto your sides, a worried lucifer holding your face as if checking your actually conscious. You felt Beels strong arms around your waist as belphie had a hand on your knee, satan trying to remain calm as he stands close by you. Your boys, your family, your finally home. Normally the loud noises would have been overwhelming but right now, you just relaxed into their touch, reassuring them that you were alright and alive.

It took a while for them to start to calm down, still being in a large group hug as you all sat in silence. You didn't realize how much you missed them until you were with them again, it felt amazing.

"Hey, what are you doing with our prefect?" A familiar voice piped up from behind you all, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as you see your friends from twisted wonderland, all in RAD uniforms and groggy from the journey here, Ace standing up and pointing at the demons holding you.

Guess that peace wasn't going to last long. Taken from one world and thrown back into another, what a nightmare...

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

Took an hour or two but WOO, ITS DONE. I havent proof read it yet but its almost midnight, i need sleep lol

Thank you guys so much for reading, what should I do next?

Tag list<3

@kittycat246

[itsjusthockey]

A Nonsense Christmas - Jack Hughes

(Fruitcake EP Series)

Finally.

Enjoy

Comment and interact, love u guys that do. Makes my night

w.c: 2,083 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

“Isn’t this illegal?” You ask, following Jack down through the tunnel of the very dark and very closed Prudential Center. “Or at least frowned upon?”

He snorts in front of you and turns to meet your eyes, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he leans toward you, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

“Being me has its privileges, baby.”

He throws you a wink, and you roll your eyes as far back as you can as you continue to follow him down toward the devil's locker room. You’ve been to the Devil's barn many times before, but never when it was this late and very obviously closed. This little rendezvous wasn’t your plan. Things that are this extravagant usually aren’t.

You are currently in Jersey, but only for a few days. The hockey world was about to go on break, and Jack had begged you to fly in before you both headed to Michigan for the holidays. You were a bit hesitant, but after a few bribes from your boyfriend, you ended up in Jersey.

Tonight is your first night, and all you want after a long week of finals and a tiring flight is to land face-first in Jack's bed and stay there—Jack has other plans. As soon as you land and drop your stuff in the apartment, he is quick to shoo you out the door again, explaining he has a surprise date night planned after your miserable finals, and you are going to love what he has planned.

At the moment, the only feeling that is plaguing your mind is nervousness. Jack’s too cocky, and he has a slight bounce in his step which usually means he’s up to no good.

You follow behind him diligently, and soon enough, you both enter the locker room. The space is as lovely as you remember it, and you follow Jack over to his stall, which is conveniently next to his baby brothers. You watch with slightly narrowed eyes as he grabs various items from his locker and hands them to you.

It isn’t until he opens his little cubby that everything falls into place. There inside is a brand new box, and when he opens it in front of you, his stupid little smirk grows even wider.

“You like?” He proudly pulls the new Bauer skates from the box, handing one over to you.

You take in the brand new pair of skates. They’re beautiful, custom, and just your size.

“You, sir, are evil.” You give him a false mean glare, but you’re slightly being honest with your statement. “You really bought me skates and trapped me here to force me to ice skate?”

He shrugs his shoulders again, smiling. “Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes at the boy in front of you. You’ve been together for a while, a long time, and while you’re dating one of the best hockey players in the league, you can’t ice skate for shit. It’s not for a lack of trying; you really have given it your all, but you’ve just had terrible teachers. Jack has tried to teach you many times. Many, many times, to no avail.

The first time, you almost ended up with a trip to the emergency room. The second time you landed so hard on your back, you thought you were paralyzed. The third time, you almost got a concussion. So it’s simple to say you’ve tried your best, but you’ve decided to leave ice skating to the professionals.

“Come on, baby, tonight’s the night, I feel it.”

You follow him out of the locker room toward the ice. You pause when you get there, suddenly feeling a sense of nostalgia. The lights are on in the center ice, and you have to admit it looks serene and slightly beautiful in the late evening. You’ve only ever been here when it is bustling with fans, and you feel a little special getting to see it this way.

“Come on, stop stalling.” Jack teases, patting the bench for you to sit.

You follow him and seat yourself in front of him. He’s smiling big, and he looks ridiculously happy. He’s always like this when he’s here; he has a certain energy when he’s close to a rink. You’d never tell him this, but you love it when he tries to teach you, even if you are wildly nervous.

Jack kneels down, immediately getting to work. You wince slightly as he pulls the skatelaces impossibly tighter around your foot. He quickly loops them around and tucks them into the sides, ensuring there is no possibility of you tripping, which you may or may not have done before.

“There, how’s that?” Jack gently pats your ankle as he looks up at you, still kneeling on the floor.

You shake your feet around, and the brand-new Bauer skates don’t budge a bit; it’s really tight and slightly cutting off blood flow, but you would rather have that than a broken ankle.

“Feels good.”

He smiles again, standing up and grabbing your face. He pulls you in for a quick kiss, then sits next to you, pulling on his own skates. You watch as he tightens them in record speed, and soon enough, he’s launching himself across the boards.

You glare at him as he races around the ice. He skates forward, backward, and even does a little spin. He’s laughing as you’re watching him move around fluidly, and once he’s done, he skates back to you, leaning over the boards where you’re standing, safely behind the danger.

“Stop showing off J, you’re not cute.”

He barks out a laugh at your bitterness, but he smiles sweetly and extends a hand for you to grab. You hesitate, watching his open palm for a minute before you finally pluck up enough courage and swing yourself onto the ice.

As soon as your foot makes contact with the ice, you fall a bit forward, and Jack steadies your waist. You give him another glare when you catch his amused stare. He’s enjoying this way too much.

“Okay, baby, you ready for the basics?”

You nod and watch as your boyfriend goes into full teacher mode. He tells you how to go, how to change directions, and you’re off. You feel pretty good. You haven’t been injured yet, but you seem to be skating better than you ever have. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re on professional ice; maybe their talent is seeping in.

You’re moving pretty fast, actually very fast, and Jack has let go of your hands, letting you glide on your own. It isn’t until you’re getting a little too close that you realize he forgot to reach you, the most essential part of ice skating.

“Wait,” you screech a bit. “How the fuck do I stop!”

Before you can do anything, you smack into the boards and fall on your ass. You hit the ice pretty hard as you go down, and as soon as you fall, you just lay there accepting defeat.

You hear Jack's loud and annoying laughter before he gets to you. He skates up so close, and he hovers above your body, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“You were doing so good. What happened?”

You huff in annoyance, and he holds out his hands to help you up. Once you’re back on your feet, you throw him another glare.

“I’m not having fun.”

He smiles and skates in a bit close, moving to kiss your pout away. He does, and when he pulls his face back, he gently moves a piece of stray hair out of your face.

“You’re doing good. It just takes practice.”

You nod, and a newfound sense of determination fills you. This is just ice skating, literally Jack's job, and you will fucking master it if it kills you. More so, you know for a fact that there is a family skate coming soon, and you want to impress people. You know you have it in you, so you grit your teeth, use Jack to push you, and you’re off again.

An hour later, you’re quite impressed with yourself. You’ve managed to skate around and haven’t fallen once. You’re moving good, and you’re finally able to keep up with Jack to a certain extent.

“You better watch out J, I think the league might replace you with me.”

You wink at him as he watches you proudly, and you can tell this means a lot to him, so even if it means you’ll fall a few times, you’ll do this every day.

“You’re a natural.” He circles you, and you try your best not to knock into him. “You just needed to get out of your head.”

You nod, smilingly, and you both skate for a little longer. Eventually, you grow a bit tired. It’s been a long day, and you find yourself skating toward the devil's bench in search of some much-needed water.

Jack reads your mind and beats you to the bench, swinging himself over and grabbing the water bottle. He grins a little bit and melts your heart. He shakes the water bottle and holds it high. You oblige and tilt your head back as he squirts the water into your mouth. He misses a bit, causing the water to dribble down your chin. You sputter a bit and wipe at your face, playfully glaring at him.

“Oops, my bad," Jack says, chuckling as he wipes the excess water off your cheek with his hand. "Looks like I need to work on my aim."

You shake your head, feigning annoyance, but you can’t help but find his boyish antics endearing.

“You're lucky you're cute," you tease, unable to hold back your laughter.

Jake grins impossibly wider, his eyes twinkling a bit with mischief. "Well, I guess I'll have to make it up to you then."

He reaches out and helps pull you safely off the ice. He makes quick work and cups your face with cold hands, leaning down to kiss you softly.

The familiar tingle of excitement rushes through you as your lips meet, and you melt into his embrace, warming yourself up. His kiss is passionate but sweet and tender; it sends shivers down your spine. The light sounds of the empty area fade, and you find yourself getting lost with him.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull apart, breathless but grinning from ear to ear. Jack's blue eyes sparkled as he looks at you with all the affection in the world.

“Better?" he asks with a smirk, his hand still resting on your cheek.

You nod, your heart swelling with happiness. "Much better," you whisper, unable to hide your adoration for this hockey-playing heartthrob in front of you.

You sigh wistfully and see the twitch of a smile tug at his lips as you cup his jaw and tug him down to meet you in another gentle, lingering kiss. The warmth of his touch sends a rush of emotions through you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Are you hungry?” Jack whispers in your hair.

You nod and loop your arms through his bent elbows, crossing it over his back. You press a soft kiss to his jaw, and he pulls you back toward the locker room. It doesn’t take long for you both to pack up, and you’re very pleased with the successful date night. It isn’t often you get to do things like this, and every time you do, you’re reminded how special your relationship is.

Ten minutes later, you’re packed into the Range Rover, and Jack is speeding toward his favorite late-night burger place. When you pull in, you see the hanging Christmas lights, and you’re reminded of the season. It’s Christmas, and you get to spend time with him, lots of time.

He leads you in hand and hand, and you can’t help but feel utter joy as you eat and spend the rest of the night together. The holdings season is shaping up to be the best yet, and you’re unbelievably excited to spend it by his side.

[sanjisluvbot]

As Above So Below

Masterlist

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Synopsis: You had your entire life just beginning, fresh into college, and as a treat, you were going on a trip across the world where you find out what your father truly does for work and why you were able to move into a nice new home. A normal young girl thrust into a world where she needed to relearn everything she ever knew and escape the clutches of an assassin clan who wanted her as a wife.

Perfectly manicured nails are now chipped and brittle. Your mother spent the next half an hour pacing your new hotel room. You lay slumped on a chair, eyes following her every move back and forth, forth and back. You bit your lip knowing the millions of thoughts running overdrive in her mind not knowing whether or not to speak up. 

You wanted to comfort her but knowing your mother that might make the situation worse, the last thing you needed was to be at odds with her after what just went down. Rubbing your hands down your arms you give yourself slight comfort, a touch of warmth in a room chilled by the reality and graveness of the situation. With a sharp intake of breath, you regained determination. 

“ I think you should get off your feet and take a shower, it’s been a long night,” 

She paused, turning to you eyes slightly wide as if she had broken out of a trance. Seeing the exhausted state you were in, her gaze softened, still all done up as if it were a good night to remember. A lump formed in her throat seeing the bags forming underneath her daughter's eyes while draped in glitter and riches like a star falling from grace. 

 Dropping her hand from her lips she smiled softly, “ Would you like to shower first? I’ll order some room service and we can maybe watch a movie…”

You nodded and unstrapped the clasps of your heels, you silently made your way to the bathroom while your mother went over to her suitcase. The blinding fluorescent light felt too harsh as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked so pretty, in a nice dress with accessories you dreamed of owning, it felt foreign looking at the girl in the mirror. 

You sighed and turned the shower on quickly undressing and stepping into the warmth of the water. You took your time, even letting your hair get wet, wanting to wash away everything from the last few hours— the previous few days you’ve had to endure. 

After everything was said and done you were curled into your mother's side on the bed. The exhaustion finally beginning to take its toll on the two of you. You shared whispered giggles over the movie you watched, a piece of nostalgia for the movie your mother had rented, it was one you constantly watched on tape as a child. A thought popped into your head before you drifted off to sleep. It angered you slightly as your father's face popped into your mind's eye. 

Was he alright? What happened when the two of you left? Would you both speak to him in the morning? 

The next morning you felt anew. The rest was needed and the jet lag completely dissipated, You woke to your mother on the phone and scribbling on a notepad. You made your presence known and she smiled pointing to the line connecting to room service in the corner of the room. 

The morning came and went and you felt you could take the day by storm facing anything thrown at you head-on without fear. An announcement on the ship had notified you and your mother that you would arrive on the island, you made a note from a previous conversation that the room number on the ship would be the same as the one within the hotel. The island was clear as day, and you grew jittery thinking about being on land once again. 

The two of you were quick to leave the ship and go to the hotel, your mother had told you that she would be spending the day talking to lawyers about the contract. Looking out the window you notice the large pool and there were already a few people basking in the sun. You quickly change smiling to your mother on your way out of the room letting her know you’d be right where she could see you out at the pool. 

You walked passed people carefully eyeing them to make sure you didn’t run into the moron you met last night. “ The last thing I need is to see that freak by the pool,” you thought to yourself. When you settled into your chair a waiter quickly passed you by and you ordered a drink to help you relax. The sun beamed down in all its glory, you generously sprayed sunscreen on every inch of skin you could reach. You felt the eyes on you, perverted and judgemental all the same. Moving your hair over your shoulder, you try your best to get your back. You bit your lip out of frustration and embarrassment, it felt like everyone was laughing at your awkward position. 

“ Need a helping hand, wife.” 

A large hand easily slipped the spray out of your hand while another steadied you by your waist. You hastily pushed the hands off of you turning around to face the dark-eyed bastard you prayed never to see again. He gleamed down at you menacingly, wide-toothed demonic smile shining right at you so proud of himself for catching you in such a state. 

Dressed head to toe in Dakr clothing without a care in the world for the heat, you glared back at him lip scrunching up in disgust at how he dared to touch you.

 “ Give me back my sunscreen,”

He laughed manically shaking his head. You click your tongue before trying to snatch it from his hand. He swiftly evaded you and tossed it into his other hand and when you went to strike again he held it over his head. How childish you think, you huffed before looking off at the pool seeing people's gaze even more on you than before. While looking away Raian’s eyes wandered over your figure. He was more than used to seeing different kinds of people but the way your skin seemed to glow under the sun was distracting, to say the least. He wanted to tease you more, have your eyes solely focused on him rather than the fucktards who meant nothing staring at his woman. 

He sucked his teeth at the skimpy little bikini you wore. Wanting to ask you why the only thing left to the imagination seemed to be your nipples. When he first spotted you he went from your hair straight to the roundness of your ass and the small triangle of cloth up your ass. He was sure if you bent over everyone would get a nice view of what he planned to take claim of on your wedding night, he couldn’t help but make his way over to you. 

Your fiery gaze was upon him again and that gaze was the lighter to the match in his chest. Raian never really focused much on women throughout his last twenty-one years as from a very young age he knew that his marriage would be arranged. He would never say he didn’t let his eyes wander, that he was ignorant to human nature but— he never truly sought out a woman before you. 

Letting his mind wander he didn’t realize until you were right under his nose, that you were pushing him toward the pool hoping he would release the hold on your sunscreen and fall right on his ass. He smiled once again before snaking his arm around your waist and falling back into the pool. 

The water was a stark contrast to the heat of the sun, drenching you in icy coldness. His hold was still tight on you as you came back up to the surface. He laughed heartily at your disheveled state, his hand wandering lower on your waist. You wriggled out of his grasp pulling yourself out of the water. Fingers pointed and hushed whispers were all you could focus on as you wrapped your towel around yourself. 

“ What’s the matter? Can’t handle what you dish out or—”

You didn’t stay to hear anymore grabbing your phone and running into the hotel. What an embarrassment, was he trying to belittle you and let you know just how powerless you were in this situation? Your damp skin was making you shiver as you squeaked through the main hall, loudly stomping in your flip-flops not caring about the water you were tracking in the lobby. You all but slammed your finger on the elevator button hoping that would make it come down faster. 

The door opened and a few people sparred you glances, you shifted your head towards the floor and leaned on the elevator walls pressing the button to your floor. As the door was closing you met his gaze, he had just run into the lobby searching for you and you were thankful he didn’t make it in time. The ride up to your floor was accompanied by annoying soft music that did more to irritate than to calm you. 

You rolled your eyes in annoyance when instead of the thirtieth floor it stopped on the twentieth. As the doors opened your eyes widened in shock, Although slightly out of breath Raian was towering in the doorway. You were quick to try and slip out but his arm slammed on the door in front of you. 

Voice trembling in fear and anger you say, “ Move out of my way. Now!” 

He doesn’t move an inch and you duck under only to be jerked back by your arm. You look up to him and there isn’t a trace of a smile on his face, making him look even more intimidating if that were possible. He gave you a once-over before taking his eyes from you and pulling you completely out of the elevator. You berated him with your words and dragged your feet across the ground and he ignored your angered pleas of release as he stalked through the hallway. 

Using his free hand he dug into his pocket pulling out his key card and a dangerous thought made its way into your mind. The room opened and you felt tears well up in your eyes. The room was almost pitch black, the curtains blocking out most of the light. He threw the card onto the mini desk before finally turning to you. His eyes held something different— something softer if that could be used for a man like him. 

You held the towel tighter taking a step back, something flashed in his eyes almost like he could smell the fear brewing inside you. He stepped towards you and you took another step back quickly turning your head to the door to try and make a run for it. He licked his lips before grabbing you once more, you yelped in fear when he pulled you close. You fought for your towel until he completely took it off you. 

“ Don’t do this, please…Raian,” 

He felt like his heart was going to leap from his chest, His name had never sounded better. He looked into your fear-stricken eyes once more, the tears already falling as you begged him not to hurt you. Without a word, he placed the towel on your head trying his best to be soft while drying your hair. 

You had calmed down slightly allowing him to dry you off. When he removed the towel you both stared at one another, who was going to make the first move. The silence was unbearable and with a huff, you were finally out the door. You didn’t want to give this psychopath any kind of wrong impression by lingering in his room in the dark too long. 

You choose the stairway instead of the elevator feeling overexposed without your towel. You exhausted your last energy running up the ten floors, unbeknownst to you the cameras had been watching your every move. 

“ Grandfather, is it alright for the two of them to be alone together so soon?” 

The old man chuckled light-heartedly at his granddaughter, he was more than glad to see the way Raian was already zeroing in on you. He thought it would take a much more forceful approach to get you to comply but his grandson was less of an anomaly than he thought. 

The old man knew better than to think the two of you had been intimate behind that door as he watched the situation unfold before his eyes. He knew that In Raian’s way, he was trying to apologize for embarrassing you and making a scene in front of all those people. 

A/N: Is this the calm before the storm?

🏷️: @arans-princess-reblogs @imaginarydreams

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[theslushiestnoob]

——————————————————————————

American Boy (pt.1)

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Word count: 2.4K

A scene where y/n and Hamzah meet for the first time 💕

English girl reader x hamzah

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The bright city lights of Toronto flashed past me as the taxi barreled down the street, a sense of excitement and nostalgia enveloping me. Arriving in early September was shaping up to be a good decision considering the beauty of autumnal Canada, the reddening leaves curling into themselves, the air cool but the brutish snow not yet setting in.

‘Going downtown, right?’ the taxi driver turned to ask me.

‘Yes please,’ I replied, repeating the name of my friend’s street in affirmation. I had landed from London the day before, and had given myself ample time to settle into my holiday rental before visiting Mandy, a lifelong friend of mine.

Despite the distance between England and Canada, we maintained our close bond through daily video calls and messages. Today would be the first day that I had seen her in nine years, since we were thirteen.

Organising this trip had been half spontaneity and half necessity - I had just completed my English degree at University, and was somewhat dreading beginning my teacher training. It was Mandy who suggested that I take a belated gap year, and within that time visit her in Toronto. It took some convincing, but the weariness from graduating was yet to subside, so it seemed like a good decision to get away. I would be in Canada for two months, a somewhat awkward amount of time - too long to be a mere vacation but far too short to put down any roots - but nonetheless I was excited. The possibility of adventure radiated from the metropolis of Toronto, surprise waiting around the turn of each street corner.

The taxi pulled up to the apartment block, the warm lights emanating from the facade casting a cosy glow into the air. It was the early evening, I was coming over for dinner and to officially meet Mandy’s long-term boyfriend, Martin. Of course, I had heard every detail of their relationship over the phone and had even spoken to him briefly on such a call, so he was not a total stranger. He seemed lovely and made Mandy so happy that I already cared for him vigorously.

I walked up to the third floor of the apartment building and knocked gingerly on the door. Despite how well I knew the girl, I was wracked with nerves. The door swung inwards, and there stood Mandy. Her round face crinkled into a wide smile, her cropped hair framing her soft features.

‘Oh my God!’ She exclaimed, rushing forward to pull me into a tight embrace.

‘I can’t believe you’re here. This is crazy,’ I returned her hug and giggled into her hair.

‘And Christ, you’re tall,’ She leaned back, hands lingering on my shoulders as she appraised me.

‘I know,’ I laughed. She was significantly shorter than me, a fact far less apparent when communicating through a phone screen.

‘I still can’t quite believe that I’m here, to be honest. It’s been so long,’ She began to pull me into the apartment, shutting the door behind me.

‘Argh! I’m so excited. You need to meet Martin.’ The warm smile that enveloped her face at the mention of his name confirmed my affection for him. As if summoned, a tall and slender man appeared from around the corner.

‘Martin! We finally actually meet,’ I say as he throws an arm around both mine and Mandy’s shoulders in a side-hug.

‘Hi! This one here,’ he pauses to give Mandy a tender kiss on the top of her head, ‘hasn’t stopped talking about you for the past week. It’s nice to officially meet you.’ He drops his arm and retreats back into the apartment, beckoning for us to follow.

‘So, Martin’s friend is coming over later to film, I hope that’s alright, but I thought that we could order takeout and watch some trashy TV.’ Mandy says as she walks into the open-plan living area of the apartment, a sleek black kitchen overlooking a cosy living room backed by an exposed-brick wall.

The far wall was entirely occupied by a large window, affording a stunning view of downtown Toronto. Two cats lay sprawled on the yellow plush sofa, and a small Chihuahua sat attentively by Martin’s feet. It was a perfect house, so quintessentially Mandy.

‘Sounds perfect.’ I grinned.

*

‘Oh my God, these people annoy me,’ I say, gesturing toward the TV. ‘Like, why can they never just be nice to one another?’

Mandy giggled, also engrossed in the latest episode of Love Island.

‘I agree, but I don’t think that would be half as entertaining as this trainwreck.’

There was a knock on the door, startling me from my comfy position snuggled into a plush blanket.

‘I’ll get it!’ Yelled Martin from the next room over, followed by the sound of his light footsteps and the door clicking open.

‘Hey, man,’ Martin said.

‘What’s up?’ a voice replied. The voice was deep but honeyed, carrying through the hall to where Mandy and I could hear.

‘His friend’ Mandy mouthed to me. I nodded and looked back to the television screen.

Martin walked back into the room, his friend following behind him.

‘Hi Hamzah,’ Mandy greeted him, smiling as he reached to pat her shoulder affectionately.

‘Hey Mandy,’ he replied, before his eyes flitted to me beside her.

His eyes held an intriguing intensity, as if asking a question. They were a warm, deep brown, and framed by dark eyelashes. His skin was the colour of caramel, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold air outside. Dark curls framed his angular face, falling just above his thick eyebrows in somewhat unruly ringlets. His lips were plump and pointed, accentuated by a defined cupid's bow. A pair of rectangular glasses sat on the arch of his wide nose, enlarging his already big eyes.

‘This is y/n,’ Mandy said, acknowledging him looking at me. Almost instinctively, Hamzah reached toward his face and whipped off his glasses, shoving them in the back pocket of his dark jeans.

‘Hi, y/n. I’m Hamzah,’ he smiled, holding his hand out for me to shake. I smiled and took his hand, amused by the formal nature of the introduction.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Hamzah.’

‘England?’ his voice rose at the end of the word, turning it into a question.

‘Uhh…’ I began to stutter

‘Your accent. You’re from England, right?’ He interrupted, an expression of genuine curiosity on his face. He seemed slightly flustered by the blunt delivery of his question.

‘Yeah, um, I’m from London,’ I smiled warmly at his recognition of my accent.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out like that,’ He turned to Martin and smiled, partly for humour and partly for validation that he hadn’t been impolite.

‘You’re not Canadian?’ I ask, ‘You don’t say sorry like Mandy does,’ I point out, pronouncing the word the elongated Canadian way of saw-ree.

He laughed at my impression and Mandy shot me a death glare.

‘No, I’m American, actually. I was raised in Illinois,’ he nodded briskly, and I copied the motion.

He held his dark eyes on me as if appraising me, an indistinguishable look on his face. The prolonged eye contact made my stomach flip, yet I could not tear my gaze away.

‘Dude, we have to go film,’ Martin prompted him.

‘Yeah,’ Hamzah said, breaking the eye contact and turning toward Martin. They both walked out of the room.

I knew of Martin’s job as a YouTuber and had always been intrigued by it. It was every child’s dream growing up, and it was very impressive to me that he made a livelihood out of it. I never found the urge to look him up, though, only knowing the basic facts about his channel, that it was shared between him and a friend - who I now knew to be Hamzah. I also knew that Mandy was a sort of fan-favourite, and that she had started vlogging too. This fact was endearing to me, and I felt a surge of pride when she had told me. Of course she would be a favourite, I thought, who wouldn’t adore her?

Mandy and I returned to Love Island, commenting on the couplings and absurd challenges presented to the islanders, but all the while my mind was drifting to the other room.

*

The show had finished a while ago, so we had turned on some music to listen to while we caught up.

‘I mean it has literally been years,’ Mandy shook her head in disbelief as she said this.

‘It’s so weird, right? Seeing you all grown up in person is surreal. I mean, you’re basically married!’ I replied.

Mandy chuckled and hid her face with her wine glass.

‘What about you? Any men in your life?’ she asked, with a wiggle of her eyebrow.

I felt myself redden as I shook my head.

‘Nope. I was too focussed on school, to be honest. And I’m not really interested in the whole partying thing, so I hardly meet new people my age. But it's fine, I’m happy,’

Mandy looked at me sceptically, before sighing and rubbing my arm.

‘You never know what could happen on this trip,’ she said quietly, and I stiffened.

My mind instantly drifted to Hamzah. I imagined his beautifully rugged face, before dispelling the thought. I looked at the time on my watch and realised how late it had gotten.

‘Oh God, I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow, though?’

‘I’m working the morning, actually, but feel free to come round whenever, someone’s always here.’

As I rose out of my seat, the door to the adjoining room opened. Hamzah walked out of it, laughing with Martin who was following close behind.

‘Are you leaving now?’Mandy asks him as he passes by the sofa.

‘Damn girl, trying so hard to get rid of me,’ he deadpans.

Mandy responds with a withering death stare.

‘But yes,’ Hamzah concludes with a grin. He turns around and hugs Martin, smacking his back as he does so. When he turns again, he locks eyes with me once more. Standing, we are almost the same height, him being maybe an inch and a half taller than me.

‘She was just leaving now, too,’ Mandy says, ‘how did you get here again?’

‘I took a taxi, I’ll just grab another one. It’s only a twenty minute drive,’ I reply, pulling out my phone to call one.

‘Nah, I can drive you, if you want,’ Hamzah says, staring intently into my face, once again with an unreadable expression.

‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way,’ I shake my head at the suggestion.

‘Really, it’s not a problem. C’mon, let's go,’ He says, starting for the door.

I turn to Mandy and see a sly grin on her face as she looks at Martin. She embraces me in goodbye, and I turn to follow Hamzah.

*

His car is parked just outside the apartment block, so it’s only a short walk in the whipping cold. Hamzah reaches for a handle and opens it, gesturing me inside.

Confused, I asked him, ‘Am I driving?’

He looked at me quizzically as I realised my mistake.

‘Oh, I forgot that you drive on the wrong side of the road!’ I say, and Hamzah’s face cracks into a grin.

‘You drive on the wrong side of the road, actually,’ he retorts.

I smile at him as I get into the car, glad for the relief from the cold night air.

He walks around the bonnet of the car and gets into the driver’s seat, ducking his head as he bends through the door.

He glances at me self-consciously as he reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his glasses. As nonchalantly as he can, he puts them on with one hand as the other reaches to start the car.

The car jolts into motion, thrumming mechanically beneath me.

‘Music?’ He asks, shooting me a sideways glance.

‘What are the options?’

‘Well, this car is old as fuck so I can only play CDs.’ He gestures for me to open the glovebox in front of me, and I pull out a holographic Disk.

‘Taylor Swift’s Red?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes in amusement.

‘Hey, don’t hate a man for having taste. Besides, it came with the car, so I’m being very frugal,’

‘Okay Mister Happy Free Confused and Lonely At The Same Time. No judgement here. Do you also have a keychain that says ‘fuck the patriarchy’?’

He grins at me and turns to focus on the road as I play the disk, the drums of State of Grace reverberating through the car.

Rain begins to slosh against the windows as the drive continues in silence, an air of awkwardness arising which I feel compelled to break.

‘So, what’s with the glasses?’ I ask.

He instinctively reaches up with his free hand to touch the frames, shooting me a sideways glance.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, you just seem self-conscious about them, but I don’t know why,’ I stare pointedly at him and watch him absent-mindedly fidget with the frames.

‘Uhh… I don’t know, I guess, I don’t wear them often in public,’ He replies, avoiding my gaze.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you out,’ I replied, feeling guilty at the prospect of embarrassing him. ‘I just meant that there's no need to be. They’re cute.’

Hamzah snaps his head to turn to me, his eyebrows scrunched quizzically. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but seemingly decides against it. He returns to staring intensely at the road and the rest of the journey continues in silence, aside from the melody of Taylor Swift’s Treacherous.

This slope is treacherous

This path is reckless.

*

——————————————————————————

I hope that you guys enjoy this! Please let me know if you want me to post more, I have written so so much for this fic and am only posting the first scene lol so I have more in the bank 🙈

Have a great day 💕

[neteyamslovrr]

HOW CAN I LOSE YOU?

summary: prmoised to a stranger Y/N takes flight and finds herself lost in the pandorian forest, only to be found by a omaticayan boy. who knew that strangers could fall in love so fast?

a/n: 5.7K WORDS bro that's more than my assignments. anyway i am incredibly proud of this fic and i hope you enjoy it as much as i do

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

Heat rose through your body, fury filling your insides as the words your mother said repeated in your mind like an intoxicating mantra. You are promised.

Promised? Th only promise is your misery. To think it’s not even someone from your clan. A stranger, an outsider, unknown to you and you were meant to mate. The fury grew even thinking about it.

“Y/N? Respond please.” Your mother held her hands on your shoulder as you refused to look in her direction.

“What? I’m being promised to someone I don’t even know. Am I meant to be excited?” You spat venom at your mother avoiding her eye contact, swatting her hands off of your body.  

“Y/N! Do not speak to your mother like that!” Always chiming in when he wasn’t needed, that’s what your father did.

“Don’t treat your daughter like a peace treaty then!” You shouted back, a sharp finger pointed at your father’s chest. You started to walk backwards, hands shaking from the rage racking through your body. “I’m leaving.”

“No Y/N, you can’t leave now, we have things to discuss!” Your mother was desperate walking fast to match the fast pace you had created to reach your ikran.

“You have nothing to say to me.” Harsh words shot at your mother as you hoped onto your ikran. “Go, Lifo!” Shouting out your banshees name you took off, gusts of wind leaving your parents to stare at their fleeing daughter.

You couldn’t remember how long you had been flying, the ongoing replay of the fight with your parents and the doom of your near future plagued your mind. Leaving your ikran to fly into unknown territory, a dense forest filled with a loud glow that encompassed every lifeform.

Landing on a large tree you disconnected from Lifo, the glow was different to your clan, it was much more apparent, the plant life encompassing every step you would take.

Strolling through the forest, you wandered looking for any food or water, as the unexpected trip took a toll on your body, hunger brewing in your stomach creating soft grumbles that harmonized with the sounds of the forest. Inspecting all of the flora around you, you spotted a purple fruit. You only recognized it as the same fruit grew on smaller trees surrounding your village.  

Picking the fruit, avoiding the thorns on the fruits skin, you took a bite. The flesh of the fruit spilling into your mouth leaving you with an amazing taste and a wash of nostalgia. It was the exact same as home, bringing you back to times when you knew you could run freely and weren’t subjected to a life of misery, a life of lack of love.

A sudden crunch of leaves instantly got rid of the nostalgic feeling you had and replaced them with fear, subconsciously holding onto the knife in the loop of your loin cloth as your heart started to beat rapidly.

“Who are you?” A loud voice boomed in front of you. A tall man, braids reaching his shoulders and hand who also reached onto his knife stood tall across from you, his figure intimidating as he questioned you.

“I mean no harm! I am just lost!” You retracted your hand off your knife to surrender yourself to the man in front of you. “I am from the eastern seas, my ikran and I flew too far.” Pointing to your sleeping ikran in the treetops above the pair of you. The mans eyes softened immediately, you noticed a=how the bioluminescent glow of the forest made his features stand out like a flower in a desert.

“Are you alright?” The man asked coming closer, his hand now also abandoning his knife, knowing you were no longer a threat.

“Yes, just looking for food.”

“You cannot stay in the forest at night, you’ll die.” Panic rose throughout you as you realised you stood in such hostile foliage. Eyes immediately scanning around where you stood, conscious of the danger surrounding you. “Rest within my clan, you’ll leave in the morning.” He wasn’t asking you, more like a demand.

Nodding hesitantly, you clapped three times to wake Lifo up, watching her wide wings flap down to the ground to let you board her. “Please lead the way.”

He nodded, calling his ikran to fly high into the sky waiting for you to follow suit. “What is your name Ikran girl?” He shouted over the noise of the two of your ikran’s flying.

“It’s Y/N…what is yours forest boy?”

“Neteyam.” That’s a pretty name.

Upon arrival you watched as many people hustled to look at the newcomer. Two women rose to the front, the rest parting to make way for them. Assuming they were important, you greeted them with a bow. “oel ngati kameie”

The two repeated it before turning aggressively to the boy you knew as Neteyam.

“Who do you bring here?” An older woman asked, she looked wise. Maybe she was Tsa’hik?

“Her name is Y/N, flew over from the eastern seas and got lost in the forest, she is here to rest.” Neteyam’s voice was serious, his face stern, like a man of leadership. Who exactly had you run into in the middle of this forest?

“I see…” She replied, her eyes gliding over you. Frozen in the moment, her stare was intimidating but so was the hundreds of others that oogled at you. It made the hunger settling in your stomach turn into anxiety.

“Feed this poor girl!” A younger woman replied, coming up beside the Tsa’hik. She was thin, her braids similar to Neteyam’s, feathers adorning her hair, as a small child held tightly onto her hand.

“Yes mother.” Neteyam nodded, he looked at you and your frozen form. Laying a soft hand on your shoulder. “Come, your ikran will rest.” He started walking off even before you could process his words but seeing as he was the only person you knew in this place, it was first instinct to follow him around like a lost child.

He lead you into a tent, inside were fruit baskets and water stored in wooden jars. If you weren’t so shocked by the continuous new surrounding you would’ve rushed to the fruit.

“Hurry and eat, everyone can hear your stomach.” Neteyam said as he stood next to the fruit, picking one up to put into your hands. Picking the fruit out of his hands, your fingers brushed his palm slightly.

It shouldn’t have worked you up so much, but the static between the two of you evoked a small gasp out of you. Neteyam felt the touch too, he just decided to ignore it but seeing your overreaction brought a soft smirk to his face.

“Do not make fun of the guests Neteyam!” A girl pushed between the two of you, giving Neteyam a nudge. She was short, her hair messy and her voice deep.

“I was not sister!” Neteyam scoffed pushing his sister back. She let out an exaggerated gasp holding onto her arm dramatically.

Munching onto the fruit in your hands, you watched the pair of sibling’s bicker in front of you. You would’ve giggled at their antics if the anxiety of being in this new place wasn’t controlling every thought.

“Oh! I haven’t introduced myself!” The shorter girl turned to you curtly. “I am Kiri, Neteyam’s sister. What is your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” You said with you mouth full, face covered in a sticky sap excreting from the fruits skin.

“That’s quite pretty, your name.” You heated up, a compliment was rarely something you received.

“Thankyou very much.” You smiled at the girl, your gaze distracted by Neteyam who overlooked your conversation, a soft smile glistening over his face. It looked like was almost in awe watching the two women converse.

Neteyam shook his head, realising he left himself loose in his thoughts. Looking over at your messy face he was mesmerised, each of your features perfectly matched the other, you looked so soft yet sharp, so tough but so elegant.

He shouldn’t be thinking this, not as an Olo’eyktan, he had duties, responsibilities. He can’t develop a liking for another clan woman.

“Are the fruits…good?” He sounded so awkward, destroying the flow of the conversation between you and Kiri. Kiri snorted in response at her brother, she wasn’t dumb, she knew when a boy thought a girl was pretty, especially when its her brother making a fool of himself.  

You nodded enthusiastically. “They’re amazing, thankyou Neteyam.” You had finally finished the fruit, leaving your face and hands sticky. An uncomfortable feeling no doubt.

“I’m uh glad.” Neteyam responded, being slightly deterred as his sister left, poking him in the spine as she snuck out of the tent, leaving Neteyam alone, with this…girl.

“Why are you all the way in the forest by the way?” Neteyam asked suddenly, his eyes directly upon yours, looking into them, noticing the glint of sadness that washed over your pupils momentarily.

“I argued with my parents. Flew off in a rush and got distracted as to where I was flying. So now I am here.” You shrugged, taking a seat on the floor of the tent, your legs growing tired from your long journey. Neteyam followed your actions and sat down in front of you. Much closer to where he stood.

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, my parents should be the sorry ones, but you do not want to be burdened with the quarrels of my family.” A stifled chuckle escaped your throat as you looked up to see Neteyam listening to your ever word.

“I would not be burdened if you decided to talk about it.” His voice was calm, soft, a comforting feeling spreading through your chest as you heard his words.

“Thankyou.”

Neteyam nodded, as he patted just above your knee, a soft hand to comfort whatever grief was consuming your emotions. “Do you want to sleep, or would you like to continue to eat?”

“Uh, I don’t want to eat more than I am allowed to.”

“Well, are you still hungry?”

“…yes”

Neteyam shoved another piece of fruit in your hands. “Then you will eat.”

“Thankyou.” You smiled at him, biting into the fruit once again.

Neteyam was compelled by your presence, he had known you for merely an hour but the magnetic connection he felt as he was drawn to you was undeniable. Was he going crazy?

You noticed his heavy stare on you once more. It made you nervous, his eyes looking through you as you sat in front of him. His beauty was one you had never seen, he poise interested you. Were you attracted to this random man? You must be going crazy.

Chewing the food in a slightly rush you watched as Neteyam’s eyes awkwardly shuffled around the room to try and avoid making too much eye contact with you. With a small inhale you tried to gain the courage to break the awkward tension between you two.

“So Neteyam, you seem important around here, is there a reason why?” Your question surprised Neteyam. He had never met someone who knew nothing of his reputation within the clan.

“I am the future Olo’eyktan, my father is Toruk Makto.” You almost spat out the food in your mouth. You were speaking so casually with the son of Toruk Makto? Not even that, his firstborn son? He must have been staring because you were so informal!

“Oh! Son of Toruk Makto. I should have been more formal!” You rushed to stand up again to bow down to him. Scrambling to your feet with speed, you felt a soft grip on your wrist.

There Neteyam looked up at you, his eyes slightly…disappointed? Was he really that upset about your informalities?

“Sit back down Y/N, there is no need to be so formal.”

“Are you sure.” Your voice was quiet, eyes filled with confusion and hesitance as he nodded giving you the go ahead to sit once again.

“Yes I’m sure…just think of me as Neteyam.”

“Okay, I’ll do that…Neteyam.” He smiled at the sound of his name, the way you giggled as you said it, smile shining brightly in the soft moonlight that slipped through the tents curtains.

“What are you in your clan?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing with you.

“I am the second daughter of the Olo’eyktan. Nothing special.” You shrugged, avoiding his hardening gaze. His hand returned once again to your thigh, an awkward attempt at comfort but still an attempt.

“You are a daughter of your clan’s leaders, that is important.” A stern statement filled with pride, his eyes softening while looking at you.

“Thankyou.” You said followed with a small yawn, eyes watering slightly. Your body was now feeling the fatigue of the long day that was now behind you.

“Oh, that reminds me, sleeping.” A soft chuckle left your lips in response to Neteyam, eyelids now starting to droop subtly. “This is my tent is where I usually sleep but if you would like you can sleep in here and I can sleep in my family’s tent?” He sounded so unsure, to suggest it as if there was another option as to where you could sleep safely.

“I do not want to kick you out of your bedroom.” You said shaking your head.

“But you are a guest you should sleep here safe.” A quick rebuttal

“Well, but this is your tent. This is where you sleep.”

“No, tonight it is where you sleep.” You sighed, pursing your lips together in response to Neteyams final remarks.

“But-”

“No” he stood up, now looking down at you. His figure looming over you intimidatingly. “You will sleep here tonight. If there is any trouble I am not far away.” He smiled at you, offering a hand to pull you up to his level.

“Are you completely sure?”

“Completely. Goodnight ikran girl.”

“Goodnight Neteyam.”

You both couldn’t deny the heat that rushed flowed to your cheeks. Neteyam stifled his smile as he exited the tent, as a smirking Kiri gave him a knowing look. This may have been the start of something terribly amazing.

It was now morning, a restless night filled with anxiety. The new sounds of the world around you, the mysterious moonlight shining into your eyes and to be alone in a brand new clan. It was terrifying.

Waking up for the last time as you decided it was an appropriate time to start off your day. Siting up you examined the tent around you, the small plants and flowers that littered the ground, and carved wooden pieces that were spread strategically around the tent. He must enjoy decorating you thought to yourself.

The curtain of your room slowly opened, a timid hand holding the edge, peeling it open to reveal Neteyam’s face. “Morning Y/N, did you sleep alright?” He asked closing the curtain again as he entered his tent. He looked down at your barely awake form, the sleep in your eyes and overall exhaustion on your face told him that you in fact did not sleep alright.

“It was fine, thankyou for letting me sleep here.”

“There was no way you weren’t going to, mum would have skinned me if I had not let a woman sleep in her own tent.” He chuckled at the thought, a hand being brought up behind his head.

“Either way, I appreciate it. I’ll have to go home soon though, my parents will send out a search party if I’m not back before todays eclipse.” Neteyam frowned, of course you had to leave. But why was there a tugging in his heart to ask you to stay just a couple hours longer, to talk to you longer, to be near you.

“Yes, but you should stay just a bit…longer.” Neteyam sounded so weary, cursing himself in his mind.

You stared up at him, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to be home, yet you had this growing urge to stay by this stranger. Why? Why did you crave his closeness?

“I guess I could…” His face brightened almost exclaiming in joy, but he choked down his urge to shout.

“Cool.” Cool? Oh, Neteyam you had to be kidding.

“Yeah…cool…” The awkward tension was once again returning as you looked away from the boy in front of you, fidgeting with his hands, rocking on his heels to pray something could meld the awkwardness in the room.

Getting off of your makeshift bed you stood close to Neteyam. Closer than any normal conversation would be. His breath was brushing past your ear as he looked down to see you mimicking his fidgeting.

“Would you like to explore the forest with me?” It was a fast, impulsive, brash decision to ask you that but seeing the way your eyes twinkled in response he felt no shame in being so forward.

“I’d love to.” Sharing smiles, you both enjoyed the now comfortable silence between you. A silence two would share in the pining plot point of a romance movie, one that asserts which two characters will be in love.

“Then let us go!”

That conversation led to you being alone in the forest with Neteyam. As he passionately explained all of the things around you, the plants, the animals. He knew you would have them in your clan, but he was enthralled in the spirit of teaching someone all about his life and culture. To have someone listen so intently to something he was passionate about.

“The forest is beautiful Neteyam.” You breathed out resting your back against a large tree trunk, one similar to the one you landed on the night before.

“I am extremely blessed for it to be my home.” His eyes were bright, smile across his face as his gratitude took over his emotions. He looked alluring to you, a sort of instinct drawing you closer to him, even though he was the one walking closer to you, a subconscious decision.

“Neteyam..” It was quiet but seeing him walk towards you unknowingly led him to stand very close to your front. His chest mere centimetres away from yours. “You are close…” Noticing your whisper he noticed how close he was, he was too busy focusing on the plants around him, he had walked right into you.

He froze when he saw your breath hitch, your eyes connecting as his broad chest momentarily brushed up against yours. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t be.” He looked down seeing your flushed cheeks and avoidant eyes. It intrigued him. Why were you so attractive? He shouldn’t think this.

“No, you shouldn’t.” Your eyes shot up to him, desire pooling in your amber orbs. The feeling was taking over your body, this longing for him. Why did you want this stranger so bad? You knew nothing of him other than the fact that your body was calling for him, begging for him.

Neteyam was now the frozen one, lost in your eyes. The desire you felt transferring to him as he felt his chest grow heavy from yearning. “Y/N…” Your name rolled off his tongue with ease, dripping in anxiousness.

Maybe it was to spite your parents, to find someone before you were mated. Maybe it was the overall intimacy of how Neteyam shyly loomed over you or maybe it was the fact that this man in front of you was the most attractive Na’vi you had ever came across and you were just a teenage girl…alone in the forest.

“Neteyam. Forgive me for this.” Crashing your lips against his your eyes shut tight as your hands travelled up his chest to rest behind his neck. He froze, eyes wide as he felt you upon him. Your touch burning as your hands travelled up and down his body.

Accepting your affections, he closed his eyes and continued to kiss you. Lips latching onto one another as he pulled your into his body, his hands wrapped around the small of your back, thumbs digging into the flesh of your hips.

Starting to lose your breath you broke away from Neteyam’s lips. Meeting his heavy breaths and intense stare. “Neteyam-” cut off as he smashed his lips into yours again. This time it was feverish, his body craving you, to taste you lips and feel every part of your body.

You let out small whimpers as Neteyam’s hands travelled down to grab your ass, his hand resting on the flesh. If he was in his right mind he would’ve been repulsed by his lewd actions but in this moment he craved you, and the sounds you made just drove him closer to insanity.

As hands roamed and kisses grew more desperate you and Neteyam separated, hands laying softly on each other as chests rose in sync, breathing loud and eye contact strong.

“Neteyam, I am sorry. I should not have done that.” The feeling of desire soon turned into shame, not being able to look him in the eye, too embarrassed about what you initiated. Neteyam was still, his face showing none of the feelings he was experiencing.

He longed to taste you again, but he knew it was wrong. He had duties to uphold as leader, he couldn’t kiss whomever he pleased. But you were just so intoxicating.

“No.”

“What?”

“Do not be sorry. I kissed you back. I wanted you so badly. No. I want you so badly.”

“Neteyam, I met you yesterday and I’m leaving today. I shouldn’t have been so impulsive.” He forgot that you had only known each other one eclipse. It felt like eternity. He also forgot that you were meant to leave, you weren’t here forever. This was a mere coincidence, meeting you in the forest was a coincidence.

“Come back then.”

“Huh” You stared up at him, you knew what he said. You just wanted him to repeat himself.

“Leave and come back. We can visit I just…I want to get to know you more Y/N. I don’t want to kiss a girl to never see her again.” Neteyam’s hands had rested against your cheek. It didn’t feel like you had known him for hours, more like years. An old couple reuniting, lost souls reconnecting. That is what it felt like.

“Neteyam…how do I explain that to my parents?”

“Don’t.”

“You are being a bit delusional.”

“I know I just… this is stupid. You just want to go.” His ears flattened against his skull, a prominent frown etched onto his face. You sighed holding onto the hand that laid against your own cheek.

“Neteyam. I want to get to know you as well.”

There it was. That was the start. It was the beginning. You both felt something click in your heads that day. That this is what is right, despite it feeling so wrong.

You and Neteyam had now been visiting each other twice a week. You would fly out on long ‘training hunts’ to understand new waters you have explored but in reality you were in the Pandorian rainforest, sat against a man’s chest as he played with your hair. It had become routine now. It was now habit to see each other.

It felt like true bliss. It let you escape from the impending doom that was meeting your future mate. It felt disgusting to think of living with someone other than Neteyam by your side. Thinking about it made you queasy but most of it made you feel lonely. Knowing one day you would have to say goodbye to Neteyam as your family had trapped you into misery for the benefits of clan’s over their own daughter. However, you didn’t think you would say goodbye to Neteyam this way.

You sat on the tree where you met Neteyam. You decided to pick that one as its large waterfall next to it made it easy for you to know where you were as you barely knew your way around the forest.

Early morning is when you would leave your clan meeting Neteyam as the sun starts to move towards peak. This morning however felt different. Neteyam who usually was there before you was nowhere to be seen. It worried you wondering where he was. He didn’t forget or something did he? No. That is stupid Y/N, you cursed yourself.

Being in the forest alone was scary, not knowing all that resides it made you sensitive to the smallest noise. That’s why when Neteyam emerged out of the heavy foliage you had your knife out ready to attack.

“Y/N? Why is your knife out?”

“You scared the crap out of me Neteyam.” Putting your knife back into the loop of your loincloth you pulled your hands down your face in embarrassment. Your heartbeat now starting to calm down as Neteyam gave you a soft embrace hoping to calm your anxiousness.

“Sorry…I was late talking to my family.” You didn’t realise before because of the adrenaline but Neteyam’s voice was sorrowful. The usual playful tone changing into a melancholy tune. But what alerted you the most was his tear-stricken face. Puffy eyes and dark cheeks.

“Neteyam…have you been crying?” you rested your thumb against his cheek, wiping the residue of tears off his face.

“It is nothing”

“It is definitely something…” your concern grew larger as he looked way from your gaze, obvious he was hiding the new set of tears welling in his eyes.

“No. It is not.”

“Neteyam please-”

“NO Y/N! I- I can’t talk about it. I just want, I want to stay next to you.” His voice cracked, in turn cracking your heart. It ached to see him hurt.

“That is okay baby, come here.” He crashed into your arms, falling onto his knees to smoosh his face into your torso. You could feel the wetness of his tears near your belly button but ignored it to continue soothing him, patting his head softly.

As you sat down to meet him on the ground you noticed his more recent tears. It pained you. What was troubling your boy?

“Nete you can tell me if something is troubling you…”

“I don’t want to lose you Y/N.” The sentence was unexpected, making you widen your eyes as Neteyam continued to let his tears fall out with a stone cold face.

“But I am right here.” A lie, you knew you would be taken away at some point, but you would tried to push it down. Enjoy the time you had with Neteyam, but for some reason he was the one cutting it short.

“No Y/N…I have been promised. I-” he paused to calm himself down, his hand gripping onto your thigh roughly. “I am to mate with someone for my clan. It is my duty.”

“What.”

“Y/N please, I had no say in this.” Your lip quivered, eyes starting to water as you gazed up to the already crying Neteyam. The pain in your body felt crippling, like your heart had been plunged out of you. Small sobs coming out of your mouth in a soft whisper as Neteyam muttered constant apologies to you.

Your chest felt heavy, your body felt heavy. You felt like you were tied down, stuck on the ground you sat on, stuck on Neteyam who hung onto you as you continued to cry in his embrace.

“Neteyam. Does this mean we never see each other again?” His heart shattered at the thought. He had fallen in love with you. Everything you did he wanted to be there with you. He craved you and you craved him. But now you were grieving him and grieving whatever could have been.

“I do not want it to be.”

“But is it.”

“Yes.”

The quiet sobs turned into loud ones as you clawed onto Neteyam. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear as he rocked you back and forth. He tried to have a little composure but hearing your pained voice broke him. He had broken you.

“I don’t want to let you go yet Nete. I was planning on never letting you go! Why did this happen!” you had this secret fantasy in your mind. That one day you and Neteyam would mate, that you would come to your home, denounce your parents promise over you and live happily with Neteyam.

But no. You were now both tied to loveless lives. Constantly yearning for each other while being with one whom you never craved like you craved each other.

“I am so sorry my love. I wish I could do something, but I am stuck.” You nodded, you were in his exact position. You couldn’t blame him. But you wanted to scream, cause a ruckus and demand for Neteyam to stay as yours. It drove you insane. Who was going to be the girl that kept you away from your Neteyam. You’ll skin her, kill her, slit her throat if it meant that Neteyam could still be yours.

“I know…let’s just enjoy our time together” it felt like a knife to the heart, like a final goodbye those last eight words. But Neteyam understood. He knew that this was a goodbye. That all good things had to come to an end but that didn’t make the thought of never having you in his arms again not the most painful thing he had ever thought about.

The ride home was the most painful thing you had ever done. You didn’t stop crying until you reached home, your throat itchy and head pounding. You wanted nothing more than to lay in your hammock and cry. To stay there until it was your time to mate and be miserable forever.

Flying into your home you would’ve thought your parents got the message that you were not to be talked to. But who were they to care about your feelings? So they barged into your room, gasping at the state of their sorrowful daughter.

“My child what has happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You grumbled facing the opposite direction to minimalize the embarrassment you felt of being caught crying.

“We should tell her.” Your fathers voice rung in your ears, making your body go cold. You couldn’t handle anymore bad news, not after this.

“Tell me what.”

“Your mate is to arrive here tomorrow.” Your body heated up, feeling as if your head was on fire with rage. You didn’t even get time to grieve your romance before you were shoved into the hands of a stranger?

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

“Do not speak to us that way.” Your father tried to discipline you, but your rage was nothing compared to him.

“ARE YOU KIDDING?! I DON’T WANT A MATE I WANT TO BE ALONE. FUCK!” You voice was raspy and loud, sure the entire clan could hear you screams.

“You do not get a choice in this. It is for the clan.” You looked into your parents eyes but all you could see is betrayal, how is this fair?

You didn’t have the energy to fight this any longer. Without Neteyam, your purpose was gone. How was anyone meant to fight for their love when their love had been stripped away from them.

“Fine.” Your mother looked at both her mate and daughter with concern. You had given up. “I don’t care anymore, because it is obvious you do not.”

“You brat-” Your mother coughed loudly to stop your father. Sharing glances, you all looked to each other.

“Thank you daughter for doing this.” Sneering you looked directly into your mothers eyes and then to your fathers.

“I am not your daughter.” Their faces had fallen, the same emotion Neteyam had when he first saw you earlier. They had no right to be upset. Not when they chose this.

As your parents left without a word, you curled into a ball, folding in on yourself trying to shy away from the burden of grief and love tugging on your heart. The pain was indescribable, like someone had taken your heart and diced it in front of you.

That morning your mother had put you in your best attire. A top adorned in red beads and yellow feathers that represented your ikran was placed on top of you. Your usually loincloth had been replaced with one of prettier colour and material, more delicate to look at. Lastly, your hair had been let out, reaching past your shoulder blades as a yellow flower was stuck behind your left ear.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Your mother had her hands over her mouth adoringly. “Doesn’t she look wonderful?” she asked your father as he replied with a proud nod.

A horn was sounded. Here they come. Entitled pieces of shit, thinking that they could mate into your clan. This wasn’t fair, you just wanted to see Neteyam. You wanted to cry in his arms, yet here you were walking out into the crowd of people. Drums being beat as horns blew. You tried to look poised, to try and look like you weren’t writhing in anxiety of who this man would be.

There flew in three ikrans. Why did it look so familiar? Why was the flashing colours of these animals bringing you back to siting in the forest with your love. You must be going insane.

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan! Welcome! Toruk Makto! Welcome!”

What.

No.

This cannot be happening. But it was.

There he stood in front of you. Just as frozen as you. The quiver of your lips came back as you saw him stand in front of you in disbelief.

“Neteyam?” He walked towards you slowly, reaching his shaking hand out to you. You paced towards him, wrapping your hand around his and bringin it to your chest. “It’s! It’s you!” you felt as if you were to burst in relief

“My love, it is you?” Neteyam’s free hand came to caress your cheek, his heart was sparkling, he felt a weight being lift off his shoulders the minute you came into view.

“It is me.” Neteyam’s lip quivered as he sucked in a short breath, trying desperately to not look as if he was a madman. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me Neteyam.” He complied, lips melting together in a harmonious union. Love mixed with the salty tears on both your cheeks as he held you closely to him. You kissed him deeply, ignoring the stares and confusion around you. He was here right in front of you, you would never let him go again. Never.

──── ⑅*❀*⑅ ────

hope you enjoyed please comment and reblog and like I appreciate it so much !!

[stevebabey]

and on the final day on august (not where i am hehe) i bring you my fic for @thefreakandthehair summer fanwork challenge! my prompt was nightswimming, its steddie (duh) and she's a baby 2.2k piece <3 | ao3

— hold my hand and tread the water

The water ebbs around his ankles gently and the ripples move across the lake surface like black slicks of ink, twinkles of moonlight catching on crests of the small waves.

Steve swallows thickly.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

It's not Lover's Lake. He knows it's not— he knows that Hawkins and all its crawling rot, through roots and beneath lakes, is miles away from him.

Steve knows that even with the gate closed, if something slipped by- somehow, he can't think of how- but it doesn't matter, if it did, it surely wouldn't be able to reach him here.

It looks an awful lot like Lover's Lake in the shadow of night.

Steve blinks harshly and curls his toes in the sand, grounding himself by burrowing his feet into the soil. The sound of lapping water was once a sound of comfort, connected to a bout of nostalgia — the sort of comfort that can only come with a routine of familiarity.

Swimming used to mean... it was the exhilaration of the dive. It was the pleasant burn in his muscles and the blaze deep in his lungs as he held his breath as long as possible, pushing the limit every time.

It was the gasp, the relief of breaking the surface, a moment of loud noise before he submerged once again, muted rushing water the only sound. It was the long and solid strokes that he carved through water with. Swimming always used to to make him feel strong.

And now... there's this new fear rooted within him.

But, hell, there's lots of things that the years of fighting and surviving the Upside Down had taken from him. Steve will be damned if he adds swimming to the list.

"—Steve?"

Eddie's voice is suddenly beside him, right in his ear, and Steve flinches, dragged abruptly from his wandering thoughts. He tears his eyes from the swirling lake surface to find the other man beside him, brown eyes searching with that glaze of concern. There's a furrow in his brows. Steve feels the warmth of his hand before it lands on his shoulder, tentative and wary.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks quietly, like speaking any louder might spook Steve more. He has this tone to his voice, the one that Steve thinks might be reserved just for him. He hasn't heard Eddie use it on anyone else. His usual loud and raucous voice, so normally used for jeering and loud heckles, completely softened.

It softens Steve every time Eddie uses it.

"We don't gotta do this tonight, if you don't wanna."

"I want to."

The words rush up his throat and stick a little on the way out. Steve clears his throat and digs his feet further into the sand.

One of his hands creeps up his chest til his fingers brush against Eddie's own hand, still holding his shoulder. He meets Eddie's gaze for a moment before an intensity seizes his chest and that recognizable lurch in his heart forces his gaze away.

That lack of courage is new too. Though, that's one thing he can't seem to blame on the Upside Down.

"It's the last one." Steve murmurs, eyes back on the lake ahead of them. Faint crickets fill the orchestra of the night around them, an occasional frog tuning in with a ribbit! Something splashes in the distance.

It is the last one. The last fear to conquer to reclaim back that piece of himself. Through out their whole silly and impromptu road-trip, they've pushed that slimy fear further and further down in Steve. Burning it away, making it smaller, til Steve was feeling bigger and better. They started in a pool, in the daylight, Eddie's open palms and soothing eyes coaxing him back into the water.

Here is the end. The last one. A lake in the night time.

Steve can feel the fear curdling in his gut, the tenseness in his muscles, every single instinct that's kept him alive for the past five years screaming at him to not get in. He feels like a house of cards, ready to topple in the slightest breeze, just drinking in the sight before him. Eddie's hand on his shoulder might be the only thing keeping him steady.

He could leave, could avoid swimming during the nighttime, could retract into himself every time that sticky fear licked up his spine— bringing back memories of vines tight around his ankle, pulling, tugging, drowning him, and— Steve clears the memory with a violent twitch, muscles jumping in their tenseness.

He's so sick of being in survival mode.

Eddie's fingers on his shoulder flex, gifting a comforting squeeze. Steve can see the chipped black polish on them in his peripheral, bare of their usual rings, prepared to swim because Eddie always gets in with him. They always swim together. God, Steve's not sure what he'd do without him.

Steve swallows again, the stone is his throat budging this time as the want surges up deep in his chest; he wants to make some goddamn new memories too.

"Can you..." He murmurs, finally turning his head to peer at Eddie beside him.

"Of course," Eddie answers his unvoiced question easily, beginning to wade into the lake a little further.

The water sloshes around his ankles, climbing up his calves, and Steve's gaze drags up with it, lingering on Eddie's milky white thighs. There's another tattoo there, a sphinx-like character, curled up and stark in it's dark colour against his pale complexion.

Steve hadn't been able to hide his staring the first time they'd swum together — a tiny bright-tiled pool in a motel, one or two states back — completely entranced by the swirling ink and the bareness of Eddie's thighs.

Eddie had caught his gawking with a smug sort of grin and ribbed him for it, tugging the fabric of his swim shorts up higher to show off the full piece. Mercifully, he didn't point out the flush it brought onto Steve's cheeks. Steve had apologised, both for his staring and for doing it in one of the more improper places, but Eddie had only given that wicked beautiful smile.

"M'used to stares, Steve." He said, not nearly as bitter as Steve thinks he's entitled to be considering the man-hunt set on him. "You don't look at me like them."

Looking at the stretch of his thigh now, tattoo partially hidden away, Steve ponders Eddie's words to keep the itch of panic at the back of his neck away. What had Eddie meant? Just how he does look at him?

Some girls like long looks, like feeling eyes raking them up and down hungrily but most of them like skirting glances, always glancing away if they've caught Steve watching. Eager glances at thighs and down chests are certainly not encouraged. It's a game of back and forth. One can't be seen to be too eager, too ravenous.

Except for, Eddie seems the complete opposite. He catches Steve's keen gaze, he spots the staring and relishes in it — like Steve's attention is something is something divine and Eddie will drink in all he can get.

It doesn't feel like it's a prize the way it did in high school, girls vying for King Steve's attention. It feels... Eddie makes it feel like something to revere.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Eddie croons, beckoning Steve into the lake and away from his distracted thoughts. He's got his hand outstretched, palm up, calloused fingers relaxed and inviting Steve to hold them with his own.

He does. He's not sure when it became a thing, holding hands — probably sometime when they upgraded from pools to rivers and lakes — but Steve's grateful for it. Eddie's fingers blanch beneath the tight grip but if it pains Eddie, he makes no move to show it on his face.

Steve grips tighter. When Eddie drifts back a step, the dark water licking an inch higher on his legs, he lets himself be pulled along. Step by step. He keeps his eyes ahead, even as the other peers down into the dark water momentarily.

Eddie gasps and a jolt of fright fires off, deep in Steve's gut. He clutches Eddie's hand tighter and Eddie's head pops up, squeezing Steve's hand back.

"Fucking chilly, is all, okay? My balls are freezing, Jesus. H. Christ."

He does this silly little hop like it's going to help the chill of the night-time lake-water. It's a funny enough sight that Steve doesn't try to stifle his shaky laughter and some of his panic melts away with it. He still doesn't look down.

Eddie scrunches his nose up and then narrows his eyes at Steve. "You're laughing now."

Steve sticks out his tongue — and bites it harshly as the water sweeps up past his waist, submerging his swimming trunks and everything below. Fucking hell, it is cold. Eddie wasn't lying.

As far as each of their swims have been — there's been six altogether, or seven if you count the high bath they took together, which Steve doesn't — this one is going smoother than what he's come to expect. There's still that prickle down his spine, like ice ghosting atop his skin, but Steve can shake it in a shiver.

The water looms higher, swallowing the plains of his stomach and Steve can feel his neck craning up, trying to get taller. Still, he takes the next step. And the next.

Suddenly, there's a brush against his leg— scaly and mucky and he knows it's not what he imagines it to be but there's no clamping down the instinct built in. His heart slams in his chest and his practiced even slow breaths transform into rapid bursts, this dread clawing deep into his gut. Steve can feel his hackles rise, knows his hand must be twisting tighter and tighter in Eddie's grip.

It all shows as a minuscule reaction on his face. Steve knows because Robin told him once—regarded him with that crinkled look once when the panic attack had crept up on him during a shift, then uttered an oh shit! once she realised what was happening.

You're too good at that. She'd told once he'd managed to calm down, head between his knees in the employee room out the back.

What?

Good at hiding it. Robin said, nudging his shoulder. He can't tell from her tone it's a good or bad thing. Maybe, it's neither. You look so calm all the time, even when you're panicking.

Eddie's come to learn the signs too. The specific pinch in his eyebrows, the twitchiness of his lips.

"Woah, woah, hey, hey," He brings the two of them closer, no longer leading them out. Eddie's dark eyes dart across his face, a wrinkle in his brow as he tries to soothe. "Just a stupid fish, nothin' to worry about, you're good."

His hands travel as he speak, shaking off Steve's tight grip to slide up his tan arms. Steve's hands shoot out, desperate to hold something, to cling to something, his big hands enveloping Eddie's wrists as the other rubs gently at his biceps. Fingers curl around the tanned skin and beg Steve closer, beginning to sink down in the water as he does.

"C'mon, you're safe." He murmurs and Steve, hanging onto tight, sinks down with him. The water climbs higher, lapping at his collarbones. Steve clings tighter, clenching up in preparation. "S'just you, me, and the fishies."

"If you think that's all that's in here, you know even less about lakes than I thought," Steve grits out.

"Shit, really?" Eddie asks. Then after another moment, "You think there's crocs in here?"

"You didn't even check?"

Eddie's grin rivals the moonlight, cheeky and delighted. "Course I did," Then he scoffs dramatically, tossing his head back. Some of his hair hits the water with a splash. "Can't believe you don't trust me at all, after all this time together."

A sly smile fights to reach Steve's face; he lets it win. His panic isn't dissolved completely, just lingering in the back— but it's been beat out by his interest in conversation with Eddie, in the strange flirt they keep seeming to do.

"I don't have any trust in you at all since you picked Motel Evergreen and—"

His words get smushed beneath Eddie's palm, warm and soft against his mouth, as the other boy narrows his eyes. "Shut your pretty mouth, Steve. You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

Even as he threatens, Eddie's eyes light with a mirth and there's that glorious grin on his face and oh god, Steve wants to kiss him.

Like a vacuum, the panic sucks out of him in a single moment as the tide turns and his nerves turn to that. Fuck. Eddie's hand slips from his face, nervous he's gotten too close, too touchy. And, well, Steve's always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so he says;

"Make me."

Something glitters across Eddie's face, a bewilderment dipped with glee. For a moment, his expression shutters as he tries to comprehend what's been said. What's been offered.

He lands on an astute, "What?"

Steve sinks into the lake and kicks off the bottom, water swishing as he starts to tread water. His feet kick and he has half a mind to spray Eddie with a face full of icy lake water but he's got that doe-eyed exuberance that Steve adores, like he's daring to let himself believe what Steve's saying.

So, instead Steve holds his hand out. He treads the water and says, "I said, make me."

Eddie doesn't waste another second.

[asacredthebread]

cover by @no-other-mashter

A Cabin In The Woods - Ch3

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢?

Warnings/ Themes: Nice Sam, still only one bed, tying up his hair, reminiscing, implied boner, cliffhanger.

an: I can only apologise for the cliffhanger, I didn’t want this chapter to be too long! If you want to be added to a tag list specifically for this series, please feel free to DM me!

wc; 13.2k

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf @fleetingjake @dannys-dream

As the two of you settled into the game of twenty questions, the atmosphere lightened with each exchange, and it felt like a playful dance around unearthing cherished memories. You began with an easy question about favorite childhood toys, and the conversation effortlessly flowed, delving deeper and bringing laughter that echoed off the cabin walls.

When it was his turn to ask, he decided to steer it into the realm of nostalgia, “What’s your favorite memory of us when we were kids?”

You grinned, a mischievous glint shining in your eyes. “Oh, I’ve got one for you. Remember that time you tried to impress me by climbing that tree in the park?”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh as you recalled the moment vividly. It had been a glorious afternoon, filled with sunshine and laughter, the scent of summer in the air. Sam, ever the daredevil, had attempted to climb higher than any kid had a right to. “How could I forget? I was so sure that I would be able to reach the top.”

“Yeah, and then you got stuck halfway up,” you replied, chuckling. “You thought you’d look cool, but instead, you were just hanging out there, calling for Jake like he was going to be your knight in shining armor.”

Heleaned back against the couch, shaking his head and grinning. “And who came to the rescue? Not Jake, that’s for sure. It was you, running over all in a panic.”

“Oh, yeah! I was a lifesaver,” you agreed, laughter dancing in your eyes. “I remember you were gripping that branch for dear life, trying to look casual, all the while internally freaking out while yelling for Jake to come help you.”

In your mind’s eye, you could picture the young Sam, arms splayed out in a desperate attempt at coolness, his cheeks flushed as the laughter bubbled in your chest. “You were so determined to impress me, and instead, you ended up looking like a raccoon caught in a tree.”

“Hey!” He feigned offense but couldn’t hold back the laughter. “And don’t forget how we both ended up with skinned knees after you helped me down.”

“Oh my god, yes! I forgot about that.” The joy of the memory washed over you as you recalled the tumble down, landing in the grass with a thud, both of you laughing despite the little scrapes. “But it was so worth it. We were laughing so hard, even with the bruises.”

“The best kind of adventure,” he added, and there was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that seemed to wrap around both of you as you relived that moment.

As the laughter died down, it was Sam’s turn to offer up a memory of his own. “Okay, my turn.. I think my favorite would have to be one of the early Fourth of July trips - the one where we went rafting?”

You tilted your head, encouraging him to share his own treasured remembrances. “Oh my God, yeah I remember that one!”

“Oh man, that was epic,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I can still see Josh getting tipped over into the water. It was classic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him at the memory. “And you were so sure you were going to fall in next!”

“Yeah, I dove straight for the oars just in case the worst happened.” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “But what really cracked me up was Josh climbing back onto the raft, drenched and cranky about his hair. You remember how he kept complaining about how he needed to fix it?”

“I do! He spent half that trip trying to wring it out! He was such a drama queen about it,” you replied, grinning as you recalled the exaggerated gestures he had made.

“Classic Josh,” Sam laughed. “And I just kept paddling like a maniac, trying to avoid any ‘splash zones.’ It felt like a scene from a comedy movie.”

“It really was,” you agreed, feeling the warmth of the day wash over you again. “Those trips were the best. I can’t believe how much time we spent doing things like that.”

The nostalgia hung in the air, sweet and warm, anchoring both of you in those carefree days of youth. As you shared stories back and forth, delving into memories framed by laughter and adventure, the cabin felt less like a prison and more like a cozy sanctuary filled with the echoes of your shared history.

“Okay, my turn,” you said, still glowing from the laughter. “What’s your favorite dessert from back then?”

Sam’s face lit up, and you felt another ripple of excitement as the game continued, revealing stories that brought you closer. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of fond memories, it occurred to you how the silly game and shared laughter were weaving together a tapestry of connection that neither of you had anticipated—but might just make your time stuck here a little brighter.

As the laughter began to fade, you and Sam settled deeper into your respective couches, the novelty of the game giving way to a more comfortable rhythm of conversation. The initial awkwardness had started to dissipate, replaced by the familiar ease that you both shared. Sam's light teasing and your playful banter wove a tapestry of warmth that transformed the secluded cabin into a safe haven, despite the situations outside.

You glanced up at the clock on the wall, the hands inching closer to the midday mark. Realizing that you hadn’t eaten yet and that it was about time to make lunch, you pushed yourself off the couch, stretching your arms overhead. “Okay, I think it’s time for me to whip something up for lunch,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Wait,” Sam interjected, his demeanor still slightly cool but beginning to warm, a hint of something softer flickering in his eyes. “I’ll make it. You made breakfast, after all.”

You paused, surprised by the offer. “Really? You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Just sit and relax for a minute.” With that, he started to rise, but then he suddenly reached for his hair, quickly pulling it back into a ponytail.

The attempt was ambitious at best. A few rogue strands stubbornly escaped the hold, sticking out in every direction, amassing around his face like a wild halo. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him looking half-determined and completely disheveled striking you as humorous. “Oh my god, Sam! You look like a tornado hit your head!”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes, but even he couldn’t suppress a smile. “It’s functional enough, okay?”

“Functional, but definitely not cute,” you teased, your laughter still bubbling. “Here, come sit by me.” You beckoned for him to come closer, inviting him into the space between your knees with an open smile.

He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he assessed the offer, but something in your voice, the playful tone, softened him. With a begrudging sigh, he relented and moved closer, settling cross-legged on the floor between your knees, facing away from you.

“Fine, but don’t expect me to get too comfortable,” he muttered, though there was a playful undertone in his voice.

As he sat, you felt a swell of affection course through you. There was something intimate about this position, this shared space. It felt like stepping into the past, a return to the uncomplicated moments of carefree childhood—an era when everything was innocent and the connection was effortlessly simple.

“You know,” you said softly, your fingers itching to reach out, “if you’re going to sit there with that mess of hair, I might have to intervene.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence, but you could see the way his shoulders tensed as he anticipated your next move.

With a teasing smile, you reached forward and gently pulled the hair tie out of his hair. “We can’t have you looking like this while making lunch,” you said playfully, as your fingers began to rake through his hair, seeking to smooth out the knots and tangles.

He made a subtle sound of protest, but the tension in his shoulders eased as you worked your fingers through the mess he’d created. “Careful with the hair! It’s valuable,” he quipped, his tone a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

“Valuable, huh?” you teased, gently tugging at the strands as you brought them back to their natural state. “This could probably double as a cleaning tool given how crazy it gets sometimes.”

“Just wait until I find a mirror and fix this,” he smirked, shooting a glance back at you, though a small laugh escaped him, betraying his good-natured spirit.

You focused on the task at hand, fingers deftly separating the tangled strands. The warmth of his body so close to yours brought a comforting glow, a friendly intimacy that you hadn’t expected to feel today. Your fingers danced gently through the hair, smoothing it out, inadvertently creating a soothing rhythm that resonated between you.

As you worked, the cabin filled with an easy camaraderie, and for a few moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this shared bubble of connection. You could feel the subtle shift in Sam, the way his initial tenseness began to ebb away, as if he were letting go of burdens that weighed on his shoulders.

And while you were lost in this simple act—calming the chaos that had formed on top of his head—there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in the air. Despite all the unspoken things lingering between you, this moment felt like a quiet declaration of friendship, a gentle reminder that trust and comfort could blossom even in unexpected situations.

As you carefully worked through the tangles in Sam's hair, you focused intently on the task at hand, relishing the way your fingers glided through the strands. Each gentle tug was deliberate, a conscious decision to avoid pulling too hard. You noticed that Sam had relaxed further beneath your touch, his body unwinding into a comfortable posture, and there was a softness in his demeanor that hadn’t been there before. It was as if the chaotic morning had dissipated, replaced by this unanticipated calm.

His hair was surprisingly soft, the strands silky and warm as they slipped between your fingers. The slight sway of his head every now and then suggested he was leaning into the moment, a rare vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. You imagined that for him, this was a secret indulgence, perhaps a moment stolen from the rigid boundaries he often constructed around himself. You’d seen glimpses of it last night—the unguarded laughter, the shared stories—but now you were starting to feel the layers he was shedding while you cared for him.

As you gathered his hair into a proper ponytail, you recalled how different things had been just a few hours ago. This morning, he had woken up guarded and closed off, almost like a statue encased in frost. The harsh words exchanged between you last night lingered on the edge of your mind, still fresh and sharp enough to draw blood if you focused too hard. But as you bound his hair together, you couldn’t help but feel the change in the air, like a tide turning.

This morning, Sam had snapped at you, his cool demeanor piercing through the sleepy haze you both had woken up in. But now, under your gentle ministrations, he was starting to melt. You felt your heart flutter with the realization that he was perhaps beginning to warm up to you again, that maybe he yearned for change just as much as you did.

You tied the hair securely with a hair tie, making sure it was both neat and comfortable. “There we go,” you murmured, admiring your work. “Much better.”

The moment you stepped back, Sam turned his head slightly to glance at you, his expression a blend of surprise and appreciation. “Wow, you’re like a hair magician or something.”

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you replied with a grin, feeling both playful and warm inside. With your fingers still tinged with the softness of his hair, you settled back into your position, observing him closely.

His smile was genuine—there was no faking it. You took a moment to appreciate how different it felt to see him relaxed, the tension he usually carried serving as a reminder of all the unkind barriers he placed around himself. In those moments, you could allow yourself to hope that perhaps he was letting you in again.

“Last night was intense, huh?” you ventured, looking for a way to bridge the developments.

He nodded, running a hand through the newly tied ponytail absentmindedly before letting it fall over his shoulder. “Yeah, you could say that.” His voice was contemplative, and the way he paused suggested more was lingering beneath the surface.

“That’s an understatement,” you said lightly, trying to ease the heaviness of the moment. “I didn’t think you’d turn into a drama king overnight.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, diffusing the air around you. “I might argue that title belongs to you, given the way you threw your hands in the air.”

“Touché,” you replied. “But I’d like to think my drama comes with style. Yours, however… well, let's just say it lacked finesse.”

He humorously rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, I was completely justified.”

The easy banter settled into a comfortable rhythm, and as you exchanged witty remarks, you wondered if this was a fleeting moment or the beginning of something more promising between you.

As he leaned back slightly, resting his shoulders against your legs, you felt the shift in the atmosphere. His actions spoke volumes; he was inviting you into his space, allowing yourself to push through the walls he had built. And it struck you—had his actions this morning been a true look into how he was feeling about it all, or had he simply been terrified of what could change?

“What do you think we were fighting about really, all these years?” you asked, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “I mean, was it really just about me breaking up with Danny?”

He sighed softly, his gaze directed at the floor. “Honestly? I think it was more about everything else—the things left unsaid, you know?”

You nodded, your heart racing as you recognized the truth in his words. “Like what?” you pressed gently, prepared for this opening. “What’s really bothering you?”

He hesitated, momentarily lost in thought, and you could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. The warmth and comfort you had shared seemed fragile, but the opportunity was there, tantalizingly close. You could sense that your question had opened a doorway to a deeper conversation.

“I guess… I don’t want to mess up again.” He admitted slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything that happened, it’s hard to not want to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?” you asked, leaning a little closer, wanting nothing more than to understand him more fully.

“From feeling that heavy attachment again,” he said, his voice lower still. “You know? It’s like… I can’t decide if fighting and pushing you away is worse than letting you in.”

His honesty washed over you, a mix of vulnerability and strength that left you momentarily awed. And in that moment, you felt the sincerity of your connection, how deep it ran despite everything that had happened. You realized that in those shared moments, there was a potential for healing, an opportunity to rewrite your narrative together, to guide him through the delicate landscape of re-establishing trust.

“Sam,” you said softly, letting your voice steady. “We’ve both messed up before.”

“I know. But I hate feeling this way. It’s like I’m stuck.” His tone was heavy, but the tension was lightened by the way he leaned back further, comforted by your presence.

“Are you scared?” you ventured, wanting to keep the conversation open, to keep peeling back the layers.

“Yeah,” he said, his admission almost swallowed by the space around you. “Scared of getting too close, scared of it ending poorly again.”

You took a deep breath, considering your next words carefully. The last thing you wanted was to push him into a corner, but the truth bubbled beneath the surface. “But isn’t it worth the risk?”

He turned slightly, meeting your gaze. “Sometimes I wonder. But then I look at you and think…maybe you’re worth the risk.”

His admission sent a rush of warmth through you, the weight of your earlier tension lifting as hope began to bloom in the pit of your stomach. You realized then how deeply you cared for him, just as he cared for you, despite the mistakes and misunderstandings.

“I want to be close to you, Sam,” you confessed, your voice steady. “But I also need you to meet me halfway.”

“I can try,” he replied, his voice becoming more certain, the warmth radiating off him growing brighter.

With renewed determination, you decided to keep the conversation flowing. “So, what if we agree to be honest with each other, no matter how hard it feels? I don’t want to fight anymore. I want us to find a way to navigate all this together.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “That sounds good. And, um, thanks for doing my hair.”

A teasing smile crept onto your face. “You’re welcome. But I’m still claiming my title as the hair magician.”

Sam chuckled again, and it felt like a refreshing wind sweeping through the room. You realized that those moments of laughter became the threads binding you closer, the small fumbles and fleeting moments leading to something solid and real.

As the sun shifted position in the sky, casting warm rays that filtered through the window, Sam finally broke the comfortable camaraderie you two had built over the last hour. He stretched lightly, the motion causing his muscles to ripple slightly beneath his shirt, before pushing himself up from the couch.

“Okay,” he said, patting his knees. “I think it’s time to make us some lunch.”

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, enjoying the rhythm of the moment. “You’re not a magician in the kitchen too, are you?”

He shot a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he walked toward the small kitchenette. “Magic does not extend to the culinary arts. You’re gonna have to lower those expectations.”

You settled back in your spot, momentarily enjoying the view as he rummaged through the cabinets. A comfortable silence enveloped you, only punctuated by the rustling of bags and the clinking of pots. But, as you watched him prepare the food, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still wrestling with the lingering shadows of your past.

Just as he started to pull out ingredients for sandwiches, he glanced back at you. Pausing for a moment, he finally began to speak again, sentiment spilling forth like the ingredients he was arranging. “You know, when you were dating Danny, I was… jealous.”

The word hung between you, heavy yet almost relieving, like the steeping aroma of something familiar wafting through the air. “Jealous?” you repeated, surprised by the unexpected turn in conversation.

He nodded, his expression growing serious, the laughter of moments before evaporating. “Yeah. Jealous because it felt like he took you away from me. From us. And jealous of him too, for having you in a way that I never could.”

Your heart sank a little at his confession. It was like unearthing a hidden scar you never knew had festered beneath the surface. You had never wanted to take anything from him—not in any measure that would lead to hurt—and it pained you that your relationship with Danny had driven this wedge.

“When you broke up,” Sam continued, his eyes focused on the counter as if searching for answers in the disarray of ingredients, “I took it as a good excuse to put distance between us, hoping it would lessen how attached I felt to you.”

As he spoke, you felt a knot form in your chest, realizing this post-breakup handling of emotions hadn’t been easy for him. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer comfort or understanding, but you stayed where you were, focusing on his every word.

“I thought if I pulled away, maybe those feelings would fade,” he admitted, turning to face you fully now, vulnerability etched into his features. “I honestly hoped that the breakup would lead you to...leave the group or at least distance yourself. I thought that would give me some peace and help me forget.”

Silence lingered between you as his confession sank in. The tension that had previously hovered in the air twisted, reshaping itself into raw honesty, echoing with the weight of unresolved emotions.

When you finally found your voice, you said, “But… I didn’t want that. I thought we could all still be friends, especially after everything we all shared.”

He nodded slowly, a faint frown creasing his brow. “I know. But then you didn’t leave. Instead, you became even closer to everyone else. And that just… it hurt. I guess I was really good at putting on a cold shoulder, and it felt easier, less messy.”

You could feel the ache in his voice, the weight of what he had carried alone. “But you didn’t have to push me away,” you said gently, your heart aching for the distance he had imposed on himself. “I was always here, Sam. You just… made it hard for me to reach you.”

He looked at you, the flicker of confusion mixed with longing in his eyes. “I was afraid,” he admitted, his gaze softening. “Afraid of what might happen if all those feelings bubbled to the surface again. And I didn’t want to lose you completely if it came down to that.”

Your heart raced. Each word he offered peeled back another layer of the complexity of your relationship, an intricate web of desires and regrets tangled together. Realizing the depth of his feelings was overwhelming yet brought forth a realization of your own.

“That night,” you started, recalling the echoes of a disastrous argument that had happened the night that you and Danny had broken up, “that wasn’t just a fight about you defending him, was it? We were both dancing around the things we didn’t want to face.”

Sam sighed as he began assembling sandwiches. “Exactly. It was easier to argue about little things instead of the real issues between us. You know, the ones that just seem to sit there, getting heavier every time we ignore them.”

There was an earnestness in his voice that made you feel both grounded and exposed. “So what do we do now?” you asked quietly, wanting to navigate this emotional territory cautiously yet deliberately.

He paused, his hands stilled briefly over the sandwich he was preparing. “I think we start by being honest with each other, like we just did. And maybe—”

“Maybe?” you prompted gently, your hopes beginning to rise.

“Maybe I let the walls come down a little,” he said, finally looking up to meet your gaze. “I can’t promise it will be easy, but I want to try.”

A soft smile spread across your face. “That sounds like a good plan. I want to try too.”

For a moment, there was a quiet understanding, an acknowledgement of the journey you were about to embark on together. It wouldn’t be simple, but there was a sense of hope threading its way through the cracks of uncertainty, daring to breathe life back into a friendship that had been battered but not broken.

Once the sandwiches were prepared, Sam turned back to you, setting the plate down with a flourish that broke the tension that had built in the room. “Ta-da! Lunch is served.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the small space as it filled the air—light and freeing, a shared warmth that began to solidify the fragile connection you both had rediscovered. “You might not be a magician in the kitchen, but this looks pretty good,” you replied, reaching for a sandwich.

As you took your first bite, the taste of fresh ingredients mixing with the warmth of the moment felt like a small victory. With every bite, it felt like you were breaking bread with the chance of a new beginning. The remnants of jealousy and distance were still there, but now they seemed manageable, recognizable. The beauty of reconnecting was not lost on either of you.

Over lunch, you let the conversation flow, mixing lighthearted banter with deeper reflections. You laughed about memories of shared failures in the kitchen, reminisced over particular moments of friendship, and slowly unraveled the need for vulnerability in learning about each other’s fears, insecurities, and desires again.

In this newfound space sparked by honesty, an invisible thread began to weave its way back between you, one that spanned the depth of both understanding and affection. You realized that both of you had wanted to protect your hearts, but somewhere in the tangle of it all, you had lost sight of what had made your friendship so special in the first place.

And as laughter echoed against the walls, mingling with the aroma of lunch, you began to see that the journey you shared wouldn’t be marked by moments of jealousy or fear anymore, but by a continuing commitment to face everything together, step by careful step. The lunch transformed into something far more important—a chance for reconnection, cautious yet filled with promise, a shared meal that symbolized the beginnings of healing and understanding between two people who had once been adversaries in their own hearts.

As the afternoon sunlight began to wane, casting a golden light across the cozy cabin, you and Sam settled back onto the couch, the remnants of your shared lunch cleared away. The warmth that had begun to grow in the room was palpable, not just from the freshly constructed sandwiches but from the renewed connection between the two of you. Conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the gentle rhythm of vulnerability being woven back into your lives.

Seated close together, you felt the comforting warmth of his presence beside you, the tension of the morning a distant echo. You glanced out the window, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon, streaks of orange and pink spilling through the trees. It was a beautiful sight, the world outside igniting with color, and for a moment, everything felt right.

But as the afternoon drew on, you could sense the shift in the air, the faint chill creeping back in. Sam seemed to notice it as well, for he shifted slightly, glancing toward the fireplace where the logs lay dwindling and half-burnt. Finally, he sighed and stood up, allowing the blanket he had draped on his lap to slide off slightly.

“We’re going to need more logs for the fire soon,” he announced, his tone steady, yet with a hint of urgency. “There’s only a few left and it’ll be getting chilly in here.”

You nodded, realizing he was right. The cozy heat surrounding you would soon dissipate if you didn’t take care of it. Sam made his way across the room to the door with a determined stride, but just as he reached out for the handle, he paused mid-motion. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere within him, catching you off guard.

“Hold on” he chuckled, turning his head back to you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “The log. Door’s blocked.”

You felt a genuine laughter escape your lips, the memory of that chaotic tumble bringing back the echoes of last night. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take you to realize!” you replied, enjoying the shared amusement that lit the atmosphere.

He huffed in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Of course, you would let me stumble around like an idiot.” But the smile that followed suggested he was teasing more than he was genuinely frustrated.

“Oh come on, it was kind of funny!” you shot back, letting the laughter linger. “Watching you move like you were on a mission while all that time there was just a need for a little creativity to get past that log.”

“Creativity,” he echoed with a grin, shaking his head as if dismissing the idea. “I’ll show you ‘creativity’ by throwing the darn thing out of the way next time.” He paused again but relished the shared chuckling.

With a subtle change in energy, Sam sauntered back over to the couch, fully retreating from his stint at the door. “Actually, I think I’ll just grab a blanket instead,” he said conspicuously, a hint of levity to his tone.

You leaned back into the warm cushions, content to let the moment linger a little longer. “A smart plan. Why battle logs when you can pull a cozy blanket around us, right?”

With a swift movement, he reached for a blanket draped over the back of the couch. It was thick and fluffy, perfect for wrapping up against the encroaching cold. Sam flung the soft, textured piece over the two of you before settling back down beside you, the familiarity of his warmth returning immediately.

“See?” he said, wrapping the blanket snugly around both of you. “Now we’re prepared for anything.”

You nestled close to him, sinking into the palatial fabric as a sense of comfort enveloped you both. “Much better. I always knew you were resourceful—just needed a little nudge to realize the simpler solutions,” you teased gently, your head leaning against his shoulder.

He gave a modest shrug, feigning a lack of interest in your compliment. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Well, you do have your moments,” you replied, your voice playful yet sincere. “But seriously, it’s nice to have this time together.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softening as he gazed into the flickering flames. “I’m really glad we’re talking again. It feels… right.”

You paused in contentment, feeling the warmth radiate not just from the flames but also from the bond you were rebuilding together. “It does,” you affirmed, and silence settled between you, a warm cocoon in which to process everything you had shared.

You both leaned into the embrace of the moment, wrapped in the blanket and in each other’s company, the fire crackling gently in the background. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the serene heartbeat of the cabin and the tenuous peace of two souls opening up to one another again.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you turned your head slightly to face him. “You know, I actually like how things are changing between us,” you ventured, wanting to underline the significance of this moment. “It feels like we’re finally being honest about everything.”

Sam nodded, his expression pensive. “Yeah. There was so much holding us back before. I think I was just scared of taking that first step again. But now… it feels different.”

“I was scared too,” you revealed softly, feeling emboldened by his admission. “I didn’t want to lose you either—this deeper friendship, or whatever it is we’re building. I kept waiting for you to pull away, and I hated it.”

A shadow flashed across his face, a hint of regret that met your gaze. “Yeah, and I guess I clung to that cold shoulder because I thought it would protect me. But here we are, wrapped up against the world.”

You felt the heat of connection burn brighter between you. “I think we can face anything together,” you said, your voice steady.

He turned to you, his eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re right. It’s about what’s ahead that matters. I’m tired of running from my feelings. Let’s keep the door open this time.”

As you looked into his eyes, the echo of laughter and friendship melded together, creating the potential for something more profound. And in the enclosing dark of twilight, with only the soft glow of the fireplace illuminating the room, you felt ready to embrace every shift, every nuanced feeling that lay ahead.

With the warmth of the blanket between you, the shared memories glowing like embers around you, and the light of newfound understanding growing steadily, you both settled into an understanding that the evening was only the beginning. A pathway to uncharted territories of connection and possibility lay ahead—one built not just on shared histories, but also on the willingness to forge ahead, together, navigating whatever storms might come your way.

“You’ll have to tell me more about the secret magician hair tricks next,” he said after a moment, breaking the thoughtful reflection.

“Oh, I have plenty of those up my sleeve!” You laughed, and leaned deeper into his side, feeling the connection solidify with each shared moment between you.

You nestled deeper into the blanket, the warmth cocooning you as you and Sam exchanged comfortable glances, the moment inviting connection and open conversation.

With a soft sigh, you broke the silence, your curiosity bubbling to the surface. “So, how does it feel to have just completed the tour? I mean, it’s been such a whirlwind of a year for you guys!”

The question sparked a light in Sam’s eyes, igniting recollections that danced across his expression like the flickering flames in the fireplace. “Honestly, it feels surreal. We played in cities I never even thought I’d visit—a complete dream come true.” He leaned back slightly, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face. “From Tokyo to Paris, each show felt like a little slice of magic.”

Your heart swelled with happiness for him, the shared experiences of the tour coloring your view with an appreciation for their hard work and the art they created together. “It’s incredible what you guys have accomplished. I can't even imagine what it was like performing for all those crowds.”

“Yeah, it’s exhilarating but exhausting,” he replied, the laughter in his voice merging with a hint of weariness. “But it’s always worth it. The energy from the shows fuels everything we do.” He paused, his gaze settling on the dancing flames, and you knew there was another layer tacked onto his thoughts. “You know, the creative process is something we’ve honed over the years, especially when writing new songs.”

“Really? How does that work?” you inquired, leaning in with genuine interest.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that indicated he was transmitting from a well of fond memories. “Jake and Josh have this tradition of going somewhere remote to kick off the songwriting process. Nature seems to do something fantastic for inspiration—the silence, the fresh air—it just makes the words flow so much easier.” He chuckled, that warm and rich sound bringing a smile to your face. “I mean, we could never function on a tour bus like that. It’s got to be about disconnecting a little and finding that space to breathe.”

You nodded, imagining the landscapes they must have explored during those visits. “That sounds amazing. I can totally see how that would help.”

A glimmer of mischief flitted across his expression. “Speaking of which, I remember this one trip a couple of years ago. We took a hiking break, and it was supposed to be this epic adventure in a remote area. Great views, the works.”

“Let me guess, something went hilariously wrong?” you teased, egging him on.

“Oh, it was a comedy of errors,” he confirmed, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Danny just loved to show off, and while we were wading across the stream, he decided to hop on a stone for a better view. Well, he didn’t quite have the finesse he thought he did and ended up slipping right into the water.”

You burst into laughter, picturing the scene unfolding in your mind. “Oh no! Did he get soaked?”

“Absolutely! He went in with a huge splash, and it was all very dramatic,” Sam recounted, his eyes glinting with the kind of nostalgia that only comes from shared histories. “Jake, of course, did his best to save him, rushing over without a second thought to pull him out. But in true comedy fashion, he slipped right after Danny and fell in too!”

You laughed harder now, picturing the chaos of it all—the indignant yelps and the surprise splashes, two of your friends turned into a giggling mess in the middle of nature’s tranquility. “That’s amazing! I can only imagine how that must have looked.”

“It was ridiculous,” he admitted, shaking his head as he chuckled. “Here they were, two grown men floundering around in a freezing stream, while Josh just stood back, dying from laughter. He couldn't even help, he was just taking pictures, documenting the whole disaster!”

You continued to laugh along, your eyes sparkling with mirth. “What did Danny say after he got out? Was he mad?”

“Oh, he was furious at first—not at Jake, but at himself for being so reckless. But honestly, who could stay mad when you’re both wet, shivering, and covered in mud?” Sam smiled, his voice softening as he reminisced. “In the end, we all just started cracking up together. It became one of those memories that bonded us more than any of our successes.”

“That’s what it’s all about, right? Those crazy moments that bring you closer together?” you mused, your heart warming at the thought.

He nodded earnestly, his gaze thoughtful. “Exactly. It’s like every little adventure and misadventure adds to the tapestry of who we are as a band. Each experience, whether a success or a failure, is part of our story. And it sometimes leads to the best songs.”

“And I bet that one probably inspired a whole new track, didn’t it?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Funny you should say that,” he replied, an enthusiastic light returning to his eyes. “We did end up writing a song about it—we call it ‘Throwing Stones’ to poke fun at how we got there. It’s fun, upbeat, and it just ignites this lively spirit, reminding us to laugh, no matter the chaos!”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” you replied, a mix of excitement and sheer admiration warming your chest. “It’s so cool how you guys can turn life’s unpredictabilities into art.”

Taking a moment to let the conversation settle, Sam leaned back into the cushy sofa, his arm casually resting behind you on the back of the couch. “Honestly, it’s what keeps it all alive. Music, friendship, even the madness—if you can embrace it all, it makes the triumphs that much richer.”

Your eyes met his, and there was a understanding in the silence that followed, one that stretched beyond words. The stories, the struggles, the laughter—all wove together into an experience that you both cherished.

As you settled deeper into the blanket, you felt contentment wash over you anew. The gold of the setting sun faded into shadows outside, the room illuminated only by the soft flickering glow of the fire. The warmth between you felt like a harbor, anchoring the both of you in the present moment—a safe space where laughter, history, and genuine connection could thrive.

Feeling emboldened, you decided to dive deeper. “Speaking of songs, do you think you can write one with all the changes happening in our lives right now?”

He looked at you intently, his expression shifting thoughtfully. “For sure. It’s not just the crazy moments on tour—it’s the little things, the reconnections, the honest conversations. I think the feelings we’re going through right now are just as important.”

You smiled softly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like the blanket you shared. “I’d love to hear how that transforms into music.”

“I promise I’ll write it down. Maybe we can even work on it together,” he suggested, that playful glint returning to his eyes, the allusion to past collaborations lingering in the air.

Your heart danced at his words, the prospect of shared creativity intertwining with the connection you had reignited. “I’d like that very much, Sam. Collaborating with you would be fantastic.”

He nodded with a satisfied smile, and again, a silence bloomed between you, but this time it was steeped with promise and possibility. As the fire crackled and the room darkened, the flickering shadows played across your faces, two souls wrapped in warmth, laughter—a reflection of the journey that had brought you both to this moment.

And there, beneath the soft glow of fading daylight, you found comfort not only in the stories you shared but in the future that stretched before you, painted with music, laughter, and above all, an effortlessly evolving connection.

As you nestled into Sam's side, the blanket wrapping snugly around both of you, a sense of warmth enveloped you both, not only from the fabric but from the connection that seemed to shimmer in the air. You felt a sense of comfort being this close, and it drew you even nearer, the soft sounds of the crackling fire filling the space around you.

“I’ve been following your journey online, you know,” you confessed softly, looking up at him with a smile. “Scrolling through Twitter during the tour has been quite the adventure, seeing everyone's reactions to your performances.”

A spark of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Oh yeah? What were people saying?”

You giggled, letting the memories wash over you. “It’s hilarious! There were so many tweets about the lines forming for your shows. Some fans camped out for days in advance, posting about every silly thing they did to pass the time. I felt like a part of this massive movement!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s wild! You’d think they were waiting for some major festival or something.”

“Exactly! And every time you guys finished a show, the excitement would literally explode on social media.” You took a moment to gather your thoughts, excitement bubbling within you. “I even made it to a few shows myself.”

“Oh really? You were there?” His interest peaked, and you could feel the warmth from his gaze as he leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah! I didn’t want to be too loud about it, but I watched from the back a couple of times,” you admitted, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “It was absolutely enchanting.”

He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Enchanting, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“No, seriously!” you laughed, your heart swelling with the memory. “Watching you on stage was mesmerizing. I could really see how into the music you got. The way you moved with the rhythm...” You trailed off for a moment, lost in the memory.

“Yeah? What did you think?” he urged, an eager smile tugging at his lips.

“I loved when you had your bass solo,” you said, excitement creeping into your voice. “The way you walked around the stage, engaging with the audience. It felt like you were sharing this incredible moment with everyone there. You’ve got this magnetic energy that pulls everyone in.”

A warm flush crept to his cheeks, and for a moment, his humility radiated through the modest smile on his face. “Wow. I appreciate that. I just try to make it feel personal, you know?”

You nodded enthusiastically, the memories firing off one after another. “Exactly! It felt like you were feeding off the crowd’s energy. The way you’d look out at everyone, and the smiles you exchanged—it was infectious!”

“I’m glad you felt that. I love the connection with the audience.” He paused, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “What most people don’t realize is how important they are to the show. Their reactions fuel me just as much as the music itself.”

You felt your heart flutter at the passion in his voice, a reminder of why you admired him so much. “And every time you handed out a pick, you could see the reactions. It was like handing them a piece of treasure! The way their faces lit up—there's something so special about that.”

He chuckled, a knowing smile crossing his face as he leaned back into the couch, continuing to bask in the shared memories. “It’s like a little moment of connection, isn’t it? Those picks become keepsakes for the fans. It’s a small way of giving them something to remember.”

“It is,” you agreed, feeling the heat of your conversation mingle with the warmth of the blanket. “And I loved seeing it. Watching people clutch those picks like they were golden tickets… it kind of made the whole experience feel magical.”

He glanced down at you, a smile gracing his lips. “Now I’m a bit self-conscious thinking about it, but I’m really glad you enjoyed it that much.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling anew. “How could I not? You were in your element, and it was so beautiful to see you shine. Watching you perform was like witnessing a symphony come to life.”

His laughter dotted the air softly, lifting the atmosphere between you. “You have a gift for words. Maybe you should be writing the song instead.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, the lighthearted banter further deepening the warmth existing in that moment. “Who knows? Maybe you could add a ‘lyricist’ to my resume.”

“I like the sound of that! Adding to your list of talents,” he said, looking down at you with amusement. “What’s next? Life coach?”

You giggled, shrugging playfully. “I mean, I have been known to deliver some pretty sound advice...”

“Now I *have* to hear it,” he pressed, leaning closer, an amused expression dancing on his face. “Hit me with your best life advice.”

You thought for a moment, tapping your finger to your chin in mock contemplation. “Always bring snacks on road trips. It's essential for maintaining sanity! That—and keeping your friends close.”

“Wise words, truly.” His laughter blended with yours, the moment fostering an easy camaraderie, the very essence of friendship flowing through your words and warmth.

As you settled back into his side, savoring the gentle closeness, the conversation shifted, bubbling over with lightness and the warmth of shared memories. The backdrop of the fire crackling softly created a cozy atmosphere, wrapping around you in a loving embrace.

It felt good to reminisce about the tour and your adventures, but even more so, it felt good to be here, sharing those moments with him—his laughter, his warmth, and the joy of rediscovered connections mingling beautifully in the air.

And there, amidst the laughter and shared stories, you both created a memory all your own, a kind of magic that promised to grow, one conversation at a time.

As the warmth of laughter and connection settled around you both, the comforting crackle of the fire flickered gently in the background, casting a serene glow throughout the room. Sam had shifted slightly, leaning his head back against the soft musings of the couch, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest becoming steadier as the minutes passed. His eyelids, heavy and content, fluttered with the remnants of wakefulness before finally surrendering to a peaceful slumber.

You watched him, entranced by the serene aura that enveloped him as he nestled deeper into your lap, his hair fanning out like a dark halo across your legs. In that moment, the bonds of friendship seemed to intertwine with a deeper intimacy—one that felt both profoundly natural and blissfully perfect. You absentmindedly combed your fingers through his hair, letting the silky strands weave between them as thoughts of the evening glided through your mind.

With a gentle tug, you pulled the hair tie from Sam's hair, letting it cascade freely down, each strand curling slightly around his face. It was almost poetic—his hair flowing with the same graceful rhythm that had captured your admiration during his performances. As you settled comfortably into this newfound closeness, you felt compelled to play.

Curiosity sparked within you as you decided to experiment a little with his hair, almost as if it were an artistic endeavor. You gently gathered the long strands, separating them with a delicate touch, and began to braid them into a single ponytail once again. The careful movements felt meditative, each loop and twist taking on a life of its own.

“Now, let’s see how this works on you, Mr. Rockstar,” you whispered playfully, glancing down at him to watch his expression remain blissfully undisturbed. He simply sighed softly, deep in dreamland. Encouraged by his peaceful demeanor, you continued working.

Creating the braid lulled you into a calm rhythm, hands deftly weaving the strands together with gentle precision. You found yourself smiling, thinking of how he would look sporting a brand new style, completely unaware of your creative efforts. But just as your fingers settled comfortably, you released the braid, letting it unfurl and fall apart once more, strands cascading in waves back onto your lap.

This process of braiding and unbraiding felt oddly soothing, a quiet conversation between you and your companion without the need for words. Time seemed to slip through your fingers as you continued this delicate play, teasing his hair between your fingers while humming a soft melody you had inadvertently conjured up.

Every now and then, as you let the strands fall apart, he would shift slightly in his sleep, a quiet moan escaping his lips that sent a flutter through your heart. For a split second, you paused, the sound of his contentment wrapping around you like the embrace of a shared secret. It sounded so innocent, so vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel a profound affection swell within you—a mixture of protectiveness and warmth that filled the room like the softest blanket.

After a moment, you resumed your gentle ministrations, braiding his hair again, fingers dancing between strands with precise intention. Each intricate weave melded your shared laughter, memories, and the warmth of togetherness into something tangible—something that felt deep and meaningful under each gentle twist of his hair.

With every new braid, you caught little glimpses of him in his dreams—small smiles playing on his lips as if he were reliving cherished moments from the tour or funny exchanges that had colored your conversations. Sam looked serene, his brow relaxed and his cheeks slightly flushed in the golden glow of the firelight.

You watched the way he nestled deeper into your lap, and for a moment, you marveled at how blissfully unaware he was. It was intimate in such a gentle way that you almost didn’t want it to ever end. As you tangled strands into another braid, you found yourself lost in thought. The vulnerability of the moment, the trust shown in how easily he had fallen asleep, tugged at your heartstrings in ways you had not anticipated.

Each new braid became a pathway for the affection you felt, weaving and flowing between braids and unravels, signifying the push and pull of emotions that danced around the two of you. You started to think about all the late-night conversations, all the concerts, and the laughter that bubbled up so easily between you two. The thought warmed you, wrapping around you like the blanket you shared with him, creating a cocoon of honest sharing and pure companionship.

As you continued this quiet ritual, he stirred slightly again, another soft sound slipping from his lips, as though echoing a distant memory. You paused, glancing down at him, momentarily losing yourself in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. It was almost like he was calling out to you even in sleep, urging you to continue the tender act of care. And with that, you returned your focus to the strands of hair, starting again to play.

This rhythm flowed easily between you, wrapping time in layers of delicate connection. For a while longer, you focused on your braid, weaving in dreams, laughter, and the essence of who he was outside of the stage—the calm after the storm, if you will.

The combination of the crackling fire, the warmth of your bodies curled comfortably on the couch, and the gentle play with his hair created a bubble where the outside world began to fade away.

It was a surreal blend of reality and dreams, and within that intimate space, you felt as if this moment—this connection—was something effortlessly beautiful. And perhaps, it was.

As Sam settled deeper still, you traced your fingers across his forehead gently in the most tender of touches, and the pure, unguarded vulnerability in that quiet moment made your heart flutter again. His hair felt so soft beneath your fingers, and for just a moment longer, you indulged in the serene pleasure of this peaceful companionship, weaving the strands of his hair, almost as if to weave a bond that transcended words themselves.

The hours seemed to slip away as you became lost in the quiet charm of the moment, completely absorbed in the magic of simplicity—the essence of friendship that was evolving right before your eyes. A smile played on your lips as you let your thoughts drift, cradling him gently as he slept soundly, warmth radiating from the both of you.

And in the golden glow of that soft light, time ceased to exist, and you both savored the beauty of just being—tangled in friendship, laughter, and the way life had a knack for stitching together its most unexpected moments into something not just meaningful, but endlessly cherished.

As you continued your gentle ministrations with Sam's hair, the softness of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. The world outside slowly darkened, painted in deep shades of blue and indigo, quietly ushering in the late hour. You found yourself lost in the rhythm of the evening, shaping and reshaping the delicate strands of his hair, momentarily submerged in the wiggles of tranquility that filled the couch.

With a sigh, you pulled your gaze away from your delightful task and glanced towards the clock nestled on the mantle. The numbers glowed softly—far later than you had intended. Time had slipped away from you without fanfare, each moment merging seamlessly into the next. You felt a knot of warmth in your chest, half wishing you could freeze the time in this perfect, serendipitous place, yet realizing that the night was pressing on.

Looking outside, you saw that the vibrant hues of twilight had vanished, replaced by the dark cloak of night. The moon hung high above, radiating a silvery glow that illuminated the edges of the passing clouds. The stars peeked through as well, twinkling like a scatter of diamonds across the fabric of the sky. Yet with the night came a distinct chill that began to creep through the window, curling around the edges of the room, an insistent reminder of the late hour.

You turned your gaze back to him, still sound asleep in your lap, blissfully unaware of the passing time or the chill that encroached upon the cozy living room. His breathing was steady, and though he appeared peaceful, the cold air reminded you that maybe it was time to consider drifting off to bed. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—his relaxed features, the way his lashes fanned gently against his cheeks—he looked utterly serene, like a child lost in the tranquility of a warm dream.

You brushed your fingers lightly against his forehead, wanting to keep him close, but knowing that the warmth of slumber would soon give way to chilliness if you didn’t act. Gently, you nudged his shoulder with the lightest of touches, careful not to startle him too much.

“Sammy...” you whispered softly, your voice barely piercing the quiet air. “It’s time to wake up.”

He stirred slightly, his brow furrowing before he let out a small sigh of contentment, but he didn’t quite rouse. You nudged him again, a little firmer this time, relishing the opportunity to tease him a bit. “Sammy, come on. It’s getting late.”

Finally, he cracked his eyes open, blinking against the dim light of the room. “Huh?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His gaze fell on you, a sleepy smile spreading across his lips. For a fleeting moment, he looked utterly adorable, still caught between the realms of dreams and waking reality.

You smiled back, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “It’s really late, you know. The fire's died down, and it’s getting a bit chilly.”

He lifted his head from your lap, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn that made your heart flutter. “Wow, I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep,” he said, rubbing the remnants of drowsiness from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late enough that we should probably head to bed,” you said softly, leaning in to meet his gaze more directly. “We don’t want to freeze out here.”

With a lazy grin, he looked around the room, as if only just realizing how cold it had indeed become. “I guess I got a little too cozy,” he chuckled, shaking off the last vestiges of slumber. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re surrounded by two of my favorite things—good company and a warm blanket.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment. “I’m glad you feel that way,” you said sincerely, heart swelling with warmth. “But really, I don’t think we want to push our luck with the cold.”

“True,” he agreed, swinging his legs off the couch and sitting up fully. He stretched again, a fascinating set of movements that revealed the elegant nature of his body, the way years of performing had molded him into a beautiful form. You couldn’t help but appreciate the sight, a mix of admiration and the comforting familiarity coloring your gaze.

As he finally stood, you couldn’t help but admire the casual grace he possessed even in moments of drowsiness. He brushed the hair from his forehead with a half-hearted attempt to tame it, which made you stifle a giggle at how endearing he looked.

“Let’s grab some blankets and head to bed, then?” he suggested, his voice dipping lower with the suggestion, the idea of retreating into the warmth of the night drawing you both closer together.

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement building at the thought of snuggling up together after such a cozy evening. “I could use a warm bed after all this.”

“Lead the way!” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, and you found yourself smiling brightly as you headed towards the stairs that led up to the bedrooms.

As you ascended, you could hear the sound of his footsteps following closely behind, the rhythm of your movements blending into an understated melody that wrapped around you, adding another layer of comfort to the night. With each step, the chill dissipated, replaced with a warmth that thrummed quietly in your chest.

Once in your room, you swung open the linen closet, retrieving extra blankets that you wrapped around your arms like a comforting cocoon. Glancing over at Sam, you couldn’t help but let a soft smile slip onto your face as he pulled the curtains open, peering through the window at the starry night outside.

“I can’t get over how beautiful it is out tonight,” he remarked, his voice threaded with a hint of admiration. “It always feels like another world after a night like this.”

“And now we have our own little refuge,” you responded, a sense of contentment spreading through you. “We’ll be warm and cozy in here.”

He turned back to you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You know, if my hair keeps falling all over the place, I might have to borrow those good company skills to keep it tidy again.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you tossed him one of the blankets. “I think I can help with that! But right now, it’s time for some rest, don’t you think?”

His grin widened, and you could see the sleep still lingering in his eyes. “Definitely.”

As you settled into the bed, layering the warm blankets around you, you couldn’t help but feel that the day—though it had ebbed away—had transformed into something magical and real. The laughter you had shared, the moments of quiet intimacy, and now this gentle transition toward rest felt like a beautiful culmination of a night well spent.

You could sense that the warmth of friendship had deepened into something more—not overt, but definitely there, like those stars twinkling faintly in the night sky above you.

As you nestled into your blankets, feeling the comfort envelop you like a gentle embrace, you stole one last glance at Sam before you closed your eyes. He had settled himself beside you, cocooned in his blanket like a soft, sleepy giant. His eyes had begun to droop again, the peaceful look returning as he sank back into the warmth—not just of the covers, but, you realized, of this beautiful, unspoken bond that formed between you both.

“Goodnight, Sammy,” you whispered, voice thick with gentle affection.

“Goodnight,” he murmured sleepily, a soft smile gracing his features before he finally succumbed to the embrace of slumber once more.

With the stars gleaming outside and the warmth of your connection wrapping around you, you drifted off to sleep, heart lighter and mind filled with dreams of laughter, friendship, and the promise of many more nights like this to come.The night deepened steadily, and the world outside gradually transformed into a crisp, silent realm as the cold coiled itself around the house. Even with the warmth of the blankets and the intimacy of your shared space, the chill felt insistent beyond the window, a stark reminder that the winter night was far from forgiving. You could hear the wind whispering against the glass, an almost haunting sound that sent shivers dancing over your skin.

In the cocoon of your blankets, you felt warm and safe, the warmth between you and Sam a palpable comfort that ebbed and flowed like the quiet whispers of the night. You had sunk into a peaceful slumber, dreams flitting in and out like shadows. But suddenly, you sensed a stirring beside you—a shifting of the weight that seemed to draw your attention.

You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented as the dim light of the room seeped back into your consciousness. As your awareness came back, your gaze landed on Sam, who had pulled himself closer to you, his body pressing against yours with an urgency that seemed uncharacteristic of the calm from before. There was a softness in the way he nestled against you, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, surrounded by the material of your blankets.

“Wow, it really got cold,” Sam mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled against you. You could feel his exhalations against your arm, and it sent a wave of warmth flooding through you, contrasting sharply with the chill creeping into the room.

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the ticklish sensation that accompanied his slight facial hair brushing against your skin. The playful scratchiness felt both intimate and amusing, and you choked back another laugh as a ripple of warmth swept through you. It was a mixture of affection and something more, and you had to force yourself to focus, to rein in your bubbling mirth.

“Okay, okay, Mr. Cuddlebug,” you chided softly, pushing against him gently in a mock protest. “Are you trying to steal all my body heat?”

He chuckled lightly, his face still settled against your shoulder, creating a feeling of cozy closeness. “I can’t help it; you’re warmer than the blankets!” he exclaimed, a playful innocence in his tone. His fingers, in their warmth, found their way to your waist, encircling you slightly and pulling you closer.

You could feel your heart race in response, and for a fleeting moment, you basked in the comfort of his proximity, the way your bodies fit together so perfectly beneath the layers of blankets. However, as you settled back into the cushion of warmth, you became undeniably aware of a different tension that had built between you—something subtle but increasingly noticeable.

Sam’s body pressed against yours had suddenly shifted from a purely innocent cuddle to something a little more heated. As he nestled deeper into your side, you felt the unmistakable pressure of his arousal against you—a solid warmth pushing into your hip. You swallowed hard, sudden awareness flooding your senses with a mixture of surprise and something undeniably alluring.

The affectionate, cozy atmosphere blossomed into something charged, and it sent your thoughts spiraling in conflicting directions. Part of you wanted to tease him, to playfully bring attention to the situation, but another part—a more cautious side—felt the indescribable gravity pulling you both into unfamiliar territory. It was a sensation that blurred the line between friendship and something deeper.

“Um, Sammy…” your breath was caught in your throat, shaky and uncertain as you turned your head to glance down at him, intrigue licking at the edges of your hesitation. The room had grown unbearably still, the chill outside forgotten in the fervent warmth of that moment, yet a flicker of nervousness danced through you.

He lifted his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a drowsy smile. “What’s up?” His voice had a softness, a still murmur caught between sleep and waking, and it only served to amplify the unusual tension of the moment.

You sensed the vulnerability radiating off of him, that moment when both of your thoughts seemed to converge upon the same realization yet carried with it the weight of unvoiced expectations. “You’re… um,” you started, faltering slightly though you knew you needed to address what was becoming obvious. “You know you’ve got, like, a little—”

His expression shifted, realization dawning on him, and the playful, sleepy demeanor gave way to something more aware. His cheeks flushed lightly as he hastily shifted away from you, creating a space between you both as abrupt as it was unexpected. “Oh—wow, I didn’t mean to—sorry,” he stammered, the words coming out with a breathless rush.

Despite the sudden awkwardness, a giggle escaped your lips before you could hold it back. The laughter surprised you both, filling the room with an unexpected lightness, easing the tension that had sparked in that shared space. “Oops,” you mused playfully, your heart still racing, “Guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

With a sheepish smile, Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly embarrassed but equally amused at the whole situation. “Yeah, I should’ve thought that through,” he admitted, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “Guess I got a little too… comfortable?”

The laughter lifted, repeating in playful waves, and you found that the initial shock had morphed into an intimate moment—one that held the potential for deeper understanding and connection. It was a hesitation, a boundary that shifted ever so slightly in the warmth of your friendship, yet it felt inherently right—the tension transforming into a shared secret.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said softly, the night being too enchanting for discomfort to linger. “We’re just two friends keeping warm, right?” You nudged him gently, teasing as you decided to playfully lean into the moment rather than shy away from it.

“Right, just two friends,” Sam echoed, a little more playfully now, his gaze meeting yours with that familiar spark of mischief you’d come to adore.

But even as the playful exploration lingered in the air around you, there was something unmistakably different now; the spark had flared brightly, and you could sense the acknowledgment that extended between you both, teetering in the grey area of friendship and something deeper.

You both sank back into the warmth of the blankets, laughter weaving into comforting silence, and though the laughter had eased the initial tension, you savored the understanding that hung in the air—a shared acknowledgment of hidden desires, of the closeness that drew you in yet again.

Time flowed more easily as you settled back into a comfortable position, Sam’s gaze flickering down to the blankets, a smile lingering on his lips. “Well, since it’s so cold out there, maybe we should keep the body warmth going? It’s definitely cozier that way,” he suggested, his tone laced with a sweetness that made your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” you responded, feeling a wisp of excitement surge within you. “Cozy sounds perfect.”

With that, he didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, sharing warmth as he wrapped his arms around you once again, burying his face into the crook of your neck, brushing his facial hair against your skin once more in a way that sent delightful shivers tingling down your spine.

This time, though, the moment felt different—an electric thrill ran through you as he nestled in closer, the space between you almost nonexistent. It was a sweet surrender to both the chill outside and the warmth of the connection you both had, a promise woven in that intimate silence: that you would both navigate this new terrain together, exploring what lay ahead in the darkness of the night.

You melted into the warmth of Sam’s embrace, grateful for the cocoon of blankets that shielded you from the biting cold that continued to seep through the walls of the house. The winds outside howled with an unsettling fierceness, but inside, the atmosphere felt luxurious and safe. You reveled in the closeness, but as moments drifted by, the chill creeping into the room began to settle into your bones once more, a stark reminder that winter was relentless.

You couldn’t help but notice how Sam’s body radiated warmth against your skin, and the desire to snuggle in further began to pull at you. With much hesitation, you began to slowly push yourself back into him, feeling the inviting heat emanate from his body. As you nestled closer, the seamless bond between you grew thicker, pulsing with an energy that both excited and comforted you in equal measures.

However, the moment you shifted, you felt the unmistakable outline of his arousal pressing against you, more pronounced now than it had been before. A thrill ran through you—a blend of nervousness and exhilaration—as the proximity heightened your awareness of the situation. He grumbled softly, a sound that reverberated against your skin, sending an unexpected shiver through you.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and still teetering on the edge of drowsiness. The inquiry was laced with both curiosity and something undeniably playful, and his tone sent sparks dancing through the space between you.

You stifled a giggle, and a soft smile broke over your face as you met his sleepy gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you, a blend of vulnerability and amusement that made your heart race just a little faster. “I’m just cold,” you replied, feeling adventurous, even daring, as the words slipped from your lips. “The blankets are nice, but there’s still a chill in the air, and you’re like a human furnace.”

You pushed in even closer, a playful challenge in the way you allowed your body to mold against him, reveling in the contrasts—the warmth you felt from Sam juxtaposed with the retrenching cold. His body reacted, muscles tensing in response to your movements, and for a moment, there was an overwhelming silence, each of you acutely aware of the newly charged atmosphere surrounding you both.

As you settled against him, you felt a flicker of mischief light up within Sam. He brought his face closer, his breath warm against your shoulder as he grazed his teeth softly against your skin, almost like a gentle warning—teasing yet commanding, summoning you to acknowledge the tenuous line you were both now dancing upon.

A gasp slipped through your lips, barely restrained, turning into an accidental whimper as the sensation sent an electrifying thrill through your spine. It was an instinctive reaction, drawn from reflex as you felt the warmth of him pressed firmly against you. In that moment, you realized how close you were to crossing from the comforting safety of friendship into something far more intense, something that sent your heart racing with excitement and trepidation.

The sound of your reaction hung thick in the air—a mixture of vulnerability, desire, and the realization of the intimacy you both shared—in that suspended moment where time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded into silence, and all you could focus on was the delightful tension simmering between your bodies.

It felt exhilarating yet disconcerting, that heady blend of fear and allure. You could feel Sam’s heartbeat against your back, the steady thrum echoing the words spoken in those simmering moments—words unvoiced but acknowledged all the same. It was a collective understanding that this wasn’t merely about comfort anymore. Something deeper was unfolding, an acknowledgment of the chemistry you both had long felt but was now pushing to the surface, begging to be explored.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you processed your surroundings, your fingers playing with the fabric of the blankets, caught somewhere in a liminal space between friendship and something entirely different. Your heart raced as your body responded to the intimacy—the closeness, the warmth, and the undeniable connection that seemed to weave itself tighter with each passing second.

It was a moment that seemed to encapsulate everything you had been feeling, everything that had been lingering in the unspoken air between you, and it felt both intoxicating and frightening. You could almost taste the anticipation hanging there, sparking into something electric, searching for an outlet, waiting for someone to take that leap further into the unknown.

And so you lingered, wrapped in the warmth of impending change, wondering where the night and your burgeoning connection might lead.

The tension in the air morphed from electricity to playful teasing in an instant, the magic of that moment lightening up at Sam’s smirk as he leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Wow, someone’s a little sensitive,” he joked, a playful laugh escaping his lips. “Whimpering already? I didn’t think I had that effect on you yet.”

His teasing carried a familiar tone, one that stirred memories you had thought buried. It brought back the days when you two were practically enemies, rivals in everything—classes, sports, and even friendships. The banter was always quick and sharp, filled with snarky comments and snide invitations to outdo one another. You could remember the countless times you had glared at each other across the room, daring another to take the first step into a confrontation.

The nostalgic rush of memories made your heart race for entirely different reasons, and in that instant, your body reacted as if struck by a light bolt. You shot straight up from the bed, the blankets pooling around you in a chaotic mess as your mind jumbled through emotions, battle scars of rivalry colliding with the familiar warmth of affection.

“Are you serious right now?” you exclaimed, voice rising with incredulity. “We were doing so well! How could you fuck it up like this?” The words tumbled from your mouth, a mixture of frustration and disbelief, shockwaves of your past echoing in the heat of your outburst.

Sam's eyebrow shot up in genuine surprise at your sudden shift, the previously playful atmosphere hanging heavily between you. “Wait, what?” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement despite the severity of your tone. “I was just teasing! You didn’t have to go all dramatic on me.”

You felt a slight rush of adrenaline, the heart-pounding kind that had defined so many of your earlier encounters. There was a thrill in standing up to him, showing that the warmth and affection couldn’t mask the fire you’d once wielded so easily. But before you could walk fully away from the bed, Sam’s arm shot out, gripping your wrist and pulling you back down with surprising strength.

“Hey! If you keep complaining about everything I do, I might just have to give you something better to do with your mouth,” he purred, a mischievous glint in his eye that left no room for doubt as to the implications of his words.

His tone hung in the air between you, an unspoken challenge woven through his suggestion—one that danced brazenly along the edges of the playful rivalry you had once thrived on. You couldn’t help but scoff, a laugh bubbling up from your core at his audacity. “Oh please,” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you faced him, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips. “You wouldn’t be giving me much to work with.”

The moment hung there, throbbing with tension, humor mingling with the intensity of your previous exchanges. Sam chuckled, the sound warm in the cozy room, and his reluctance to retreat from your banter was palpable, a friendly duel of words as natural as breathing.

“Is that so?” he challenged, his voice low and playful, running his fingers through his hair in that familiar way that always made him seem effortlessly charming. “You’re not even considering what I could do if you stopped being so dramatic for just a minute.”

“Oh, dramatic? Look who’s talking,” you countered, your heart racing at the sheer audacity of your conversation. “Do you seriously think I’m going to just sit here and take it?”

“Are you sure you want to challenge me?” he shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because I could definitely make it worth your while if you let me.”

Feeling emboldened by your tension, you leaned forward just a fraction, closing the space between you two again. “I’m not afraid of you, Sam,” you declared, the words coming out with a playful bite, pulling your old personas of rivalry into a new territory that was somehow easier to navigate grounded in this warmth and shared comfort.

“But, in that case,” he said, leaning in as well, lips curving into a smirk, “you might want to brace yourself.”

A surge of excitement coursed through you as you felt the playful challenge hanging in the air. The dynamic had shifted so decidedly from your past encounters, intertwining the comfort of camaraderie with the thrill of newfound exploration. As you teetered on the precipice of uncertainty, there was an undeniable chemistry shared in those moments, a fire igniting between you as your words danced like flames in a gentle summer breeze.

“Bring it on,” you whispered back, heart pounding at the thrill of the shift. The night felt electric again; the stakes had transformed into something deliciously unpredictable, eager for the two of you to navigate the terrain of what came next.

You both lingered there, on the brink of something new, laughter and teasing biting at the edges, enveloped in warmth, words igniting the very spark that had drawn you together in the first place. It was a heady mix of everything you had been, and everything you could become, wrapped in the bittersweet tension of your shared history and the promise of an exhilarating future yet unwritten.

[katerinaaqu]

The Death of Odysseus (Part 3 + Afternote)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Apparently I couldn't stop myself! Today is the last blue moon and man I just felt like I HAD to post part 3 today for some reason! After Part 1 and Part 2 here's the third and final part! This is my longest chapter still from this series! Please follow me to the trip of Odysseus in the underworld for his ordeals are about to end... This is long I know! But I would love to hear your thoughts on this at to my other 2 parts! ^_^ Forgive me if this is too tiring!

Diomedes’s footsteps were the only things he could hear as they entered to the new section of the Underworld. Along the way one by one the souls accompanying them had to stop. It was as if their journey along with him for now was reflecting their arduous trip. Now he was alone once more, passing by other shades that seemed to be matching his age. His feet felt tired and at the same time they weren’t. What a weird sensation!

“Diomedes…” he whispered, “Can we stop for a second? I need to catch my breath”

Diomedes looked at him over his large shoulder.

“Soon you will. Endure for a little longer, my friend”

“I feel like…I can’t breathe…!” Odysseus rasped out

It was as if some huge weight was on his chest. It was as if every time the soul of one of his comrades was disappearing or promising he would meet him later after his journey was done, he was losing a part of himself. It was as if he was feeling the losses again and again but this time it was crushing him like the pressure of a mountain. It was suffocating him. His body, old from time and hardships, even if he was shadow now, was feeling heavy, unable to move as if he was aging even further during his trip. He felt like breathing in the thick mist of water instead of air as he walked…as if every breath was tightening his chest… Diomedes looked at him with a soft smile of compassion.

“Courage! Just a bit further we can stop…I promise…”

“Help me…! Please…!” Odysseus rasped out, voice trembling

Once more he felt the consequences of the lack of tears to his new form. He could not release himself from pain through tears anymore; he could feel the sadness, the burning down his throat and his voice cracking…but his eyes would never water. A warm, shining hand was placed before him.

“Come on, my friend, courage! We’re almost there”

Odysseus accepted Diomedes’s strong arm with his wrinkled, shaking hand. Being supported by his old friend and now protector-god, Odysseus slowly moved forward. For one second his memory ran back to the last interaction he had with his son; how his son was supporting him in a similar manner towards his bed. Oh, he missed him so much! His home he would never see again…the smell of the sea he would never sniff again… The softness of a bed he would never feel again… Ithaca he would never experience again… Now under the crushing weight of his journey pressing on his chest Odysseus remembered Aeaea…and Ogygia…the sweet tortures and temptations of his life… Both opportunities he had to escape this pain; this torment. He had the chance to remain to the world of the living…like a god…like Diomedes was supporting him steadfast right now… He wouldn’t have experienced this pain; this sadness and nostalgia…this solitude…this endless up and down of emotions between happiness and sadness, hope and despair that was about to drive him insane. So many dead men had drunk from the river of Lithe to escape this. Odysseus had chosen, once more, the hard way. He had chosen this…just like back then he chose his wife and the love of his land.

“Oh how insignificant that would seem to the eyes of those goddesses!” he thought in woe, “Woe is you, they would say, you experience that pain now…only to see your wife and home for as many years as you were separated from them! What was the point? Was it worth it? That’s what they would say to me if they saw me now…!”

And yet Odysseus, feeling the warmth of Diomedes by his side…remembering the delight and happiness to see his comrades again…No, this pain was worth it! The senseless existence or immortal life would demand a high price to pay! He nearly tripped at a stone but Diomedes was there to hold him.

“Courage, my friend!” he encouraged him once more, “We are almost there.”

Every step he took seemed like a decade; like a decade of torture falling upon him. But yet again Odysseus endured. He had to. They reached a plateau and finally Diomedes stopped. He nodded to Odysseus and helped him sit upon a stone. Odysseus nearly collapsed. He would have been soaked in sweat if he were a human. He was breathing heavily; painfully. Diomedes patted him on the back.

“I can’t…!” Odysseus finally whispered pleadingly, “I can’t anymore, Diomedes! I can’t…go any further…!”

“Now, now…” Diomedes whispered with a compassionate smile, “Don’t give up now…you must keep going”

“I can’t! Please…spare me…! Mercy, Diomedes…! Please…leave me here…I don’t have any more strength to go on…”

“You are almost there, Odysseus” Diomedes repeated softly and yet firmly, “Do not give up. The reward at the end is always sweet for those who endure”

Odysseus only pleadingly looked at him. Suddenly he felt older than before. As if he aged over a thousand years instead of 80… He gritted his teeth and nodded. Struggled to his feet; although he had to be assisted by Diomedes again in order to fully stand. How long had he been to be traveling? Was it a day? A year? A decade? Was it a century? He looked up. He almost felt as if snow was falling on him. Perhaps it wasn’t snow but ash flakes from the fires of Troy… He raised his hand in the air as if trying to catch them. He gathered it back to his throbbing chest.

“Why…does it hurt so much…?” he managed to whisper, “Is it normal to be this painful?”

“The journey reflects a life…” Diomedes whispered, “The pain and the joy one experiences are up to them…”

“Woe is me…!” Odysseus exasperated, “How much pain…! So much sorrow…so much anger and hatred…! Can it stop, Diomedes? Will it ever stop…?”

Diomedes was silent. He couldn’t respond and Odysseus knew it. Diomedes didn’t experience this trip himself when he entered Elysium and godhood.  He was not Hades to know. How much pain would he experience after so many years of torment?

“Gods…!” he whispered, “Oh, gods! Please release me…even for a little while! My heart cannot bear it! Please make it stop, Diomedes…! Make it stop…!”

“You’re getting there, Odysseus…” Diomedes once more encouraged, “Do not lose heart now! You have but a few stops left… Goddess Athena promised me. She has your back… Take strength from her, my old friend! I beg of you…”

Moaning in pain and anguish Odysseus forced his pace, grasping on Diomedes as hard as he could, as if he had physical nails to dig into his now immortal flesh. For one more time…Odysseus endured…

*

The journey was moving slowly as he finally managed to breathe with some ease. It took a bit further and exactly as Diomedes had promised it became somehow bearable. He even managed to walk on his own now. His old friend was always there watching his step. However as he looked around he thought he recognized shades that passed by him, almost as if completely ignoring him. Oh how much he wished he had a walking stick with him! Or at least the oar that he was carrying for his redemption journey! His back felt almost like breaking. It was as if he was walking forever. He stood for a second looking around at the open area. It wasn’t as cramped with souls as the other one he passed from before.

“Where are we, Diomedes?” he asked, “What part of Hades is this?”

“This is the area of the kings and nobles” Diomedes explained.

Odysseus scoffed.

“Are you telling me that this old, beaten body of mine belongs here?”

“Perhaps”

“Look who’s here!”

That familiar voice he hadn’t heard in decades made him turn. He recognized the blonde long hair of Achilles, walking side by side to the brown-haired and gray-eyed Patroclus and their companion Antilochus. Achilles was having his arms folded against his chest as he perceived him. He was as youthful as always; a man who lost his life so early.

“Achilles!” Odysseus breathed out

The man Fast in Feet smiled.

“We began to think that the gods of death had forgotten about you!”

“I told you he would potentially outlive us all, Achilles” Patroclus said softly

“Indeed” Achilles agreed, “Someone who came down here even alive would undoubtedly be too stubborn to die!”

“He always was”

Odysseus turned around to see that tall man. He recognized his wavy locks and his well-kept beard; those large brown eyes.

“Agamemnon!”

He half-staggered to the direction of his and the two men embraced. Odysseus remembered that tall man who used to be one head taller than what he was. Now that he had partially shrunk with age, he seemed even taller.

“Nice to see you again, old friend” Agamemnon whispered, “At least one of us got to make it to old age! Look at you! Never expected to see the great Odysseus looking worse than Nestor!”

Odysseus chuckled softly in his self-pity.

“Yeah, I grew old alright…I bet I look awful right now. I avoided the mirrors for a long time before this!”

They chuckled a bit. Odysseus held his stomach that still felt painful with every breath but it was getting better. As he scanned the place he noticed more kings and queens arriving, it almost felt like a welcoming party. He recognized many figures he had only heard from stories like Minus, Perseus and Jason the Argonaut but he also saw so many known figures; people he never thought he would see again.

“Nestor!” he called to the elderly figure that approached him

Oh, how strange! He looked so much younger than him now! He had heard of Nestor’s death had occurred a little after Telemachus had come back to Ithaca. Peisistratus, the youngest son that remained a loyal friend and companion to his son had brought the terrible news. He had outlived Nestor by a decade in years! How different they looked now as they embraced and cried in their souls (for neither could shed tears). How fragile Odysseus felt! And yet he perceived his old friend, whom he hadn’t seen ever since Troy!

“Look at us!” he whispered in emotion, “You were old at Troy…I was barely entering threshold of old age…and now…look at us!”

“What a weird thing fate is, Odysseus…” Nestor whispered back

The kings were gathered, greeting him like an old friend. He remembered so many of them from Troy. It almost felt like they never left that camp at the foot of the holy city. People were greeting him, patting his back. Odysseus was smiling in emotion; yes, it was as if he never left, as if he was still a young ambitious man, barely to the threshold of old age instead of dead, dragging an old body and old memories all the way into the underworld!

“Is the celebrity of the day available to see an old friend?”

That soft voice made Odysseus shine inside. He saw that tall man; with the fair skin and hair; hair that was once reddish blonde, almost platinum, now it was white like snow. The body he remembered so strong and sturdy at Troy even if still vigorous bore the samples of old age. The eyes that had the color of honey and oil were looking at him compassionately like always. By his side the beautiful Helen kissed by the sun at her hair like golden Aphrodite. She herself despite aged like every mortal would have aged she could pass at least a decade younger than the age she had during her passing. She was stunningly beautiful as ever, holding affectionately the arm of the man with whom she shared her life with. There was no doubt who that man was that filled his soul with delight.

“Menelaus! Gods! Menelaus!”

He didn’t care who watched as he clumsily and tiredly stumbled close to his friend who met him mid-way and they embraced tightly.

“Now…you are the one who must support me…” Odysseus whispered

“I got you, old friend…I do…” Menelaus whispered

Odysseus remembered when they met before he continued his redemption trip. Menelaus was suffering from his health; years and sorrows had taken their toll on him. When Helen had sent a letter for his passing to Ithaca, for which he was informed after his return from the mainland, Odysseus had cried in silence for days. He had mourned Menelaus; the only man that truly believed to the very end of his wellbeing, the only man that shared his guilt and pain. How many things had commenced in the name of their loves! Odysseus who secretly invented the Oath of Tyndareus to marry Penelope, Menelaus called onto the oath and started the war of Troy; the bloody war that cost the lives of thousands. They had agreed reluctantly to sacrifices of two young maidens; one saved one doomed. They had wandered, they had shipwrecked and they had felt the pain…and here they were. Menelaus passing at the threshold of old age…Odysseus to the end of it… Odysseus held Menelaus’s cheeks with his hands, as if to observe his more youthful appearance.

“How…?” he whispered emotionally, “How could you take the trip so far…?”

The pain he felt…only Menelaus could understand! Only Menelaus could give him the answer he sought!

“H-How…how could you take it…?”

Menelaus smiled softly and ran his hand over Odysseus’s face, as if to feel every wrinkle and disfigurement from age. Slowly moved the veil off Odysseus’s head and ran his fingers through his thinned, white wholly hair.

“I was telling to myself; endure it, old chap, Odysseus endured worse…this is nothing! I was saying to myself; you have to endure, this is what Odysseus would have done!”

Odysseus did the only thing he could; he collapsed. He held onto Menelaus for dear life; the way he embraced his son Telemachus when he saw him for the first time after so many years of ordeal. It was the only thing he could do for he could no longer cry. He could only tighten his grip; with his arms that no longer had his youthful strength, and shake as the sobs were coming from the soul rather than the tears and so did Menelaus; he embraced him tightly grasping the hair to the back of his head, burying his face to the crook of his neck. The two old friends were left to mourn their lives, their pain and fleeted youth. Both had wondered what if they had done things differently. What if had they chosen a different path? Nothing mattered now. They had both left the world they knew. Daring to break their embrace and Odysseus draw a few painful breaths, which torn his chest apart, to find his composure he looked up to see the gigantic figure of Ajax, accompanied by his brother Teucer. Ajax looked so youthful! Just a bit older than Achilles. His black eyes were staring or rather glaring at Odysseus’s frail and old form. He remembered the other time Odysseus had arrived to the underworld. He had tried to talk to him but Ajax’s anger was holding high. Now Odysseus felt even smaller than then before him.

“Ajax…” he whispered pleadingly, “Please…f-forgive me…! Please…don’t look at me like this! Please! Don’t…!”

“I hated you as much as I have hated no Trojan…”

The deep voice coming as if from the core of the earth made Odysseus look up. He hadn’t heard Ajax’s voice in decades. His words were knives that cut deep.

“You wronged me. Athena took away my dignity to protect you…I hated you like I hated no man…or no beast…”

“Please…” Odysseus whispered, “I know…I…I am sorry…I am…so sorry…!”

“But…”

Odysseus looked at his eyes; like a mouse that was caught at the claws of a cat. Ajax was not done yet.

“I learnt something from Menelaus and Teucer…something no one told me before…for others also hated me for my intentions. Menelaus and my brother told me it was you the one who demanded my funeral…he told me it was you the one who saved my soul…”

“I…” Odysseus stammered, “I couldn’t let you perish…f-for my…for the decision to take the arms… You didn’t deserve it…”

“No…” Ajax agreed, “I didn’t…”

He looked at him again. His look was not grateful even if his eyes were. Odysseus couldn’t expect more than that. He knew Ajax had a reason to be crossed with him. He wouldn’t demand him to let go of his anger for this.

“Thank you…for that” Ajax finally said, “For saving my honor”

Odysseus nodded. Yes, this was much more than what he could ever expect or wish for. He had long now stopped considering Ajax his enemy; daresay he might even consider him his friend. He was glad that at least Ajax wouldn’t hold on his grudge so strongly now.

“My son…”

The voice of Laërtes; music to his ears! He turned around to see his old father; the man he saw in despair in Ithaca turning his life around soon after; strong like a lion; the man he had buried long time ago; before he even left for his redemption trip. Now he seemed almost the same age as he was. Odysseus let himself go in his arms as if he were a boy, as if he needed once more that affection.

“Welcome, my son…” his father whispered, “Finally home…our Final Home…”

“F-Forgive me…f-father…you waited…again…”

“This waiting was sweet, my son” Laërtes replied, “I wouldn’t wish for you to arrive to this dark threshold before long time had passed! I wouldn’t feel joy in my heart if I saw my dear son looking younger than me when he arrived here…”

It was a sweet delight indeed. Odysseus realized from his father’s words that he would prefer a thousand times to stay in Hades for a thousand years suffering from longing and see his son arrive old and happy and content rather than see him arriving as soon as possible looking young and vigorous. It was a sweet pain that he would wish to welcome himself. Oh gods, let me suffer so, he prayed silently, let me suffer longing and nostalgia till I see my son and grandson again…see them arrive old and healthy; looking a decade older than me! Let them live long and well, Athena! That is all I ask! This pain in my heart…I shall take it gladly!

“There is someone else here though that wishes to see you, my son” the old man said once more, “Waited for long to greet you…”

“This blessed day and delight, Odysseus…! My Most Prayed For!”

That voice; that soft voice he hadn’t heard in decades! Odysseus turned around to see the figure dressed in veils; thin and frail, old and tormented but all the same beautiful and warm! He collapsed there was no way he could describe it! He forgot any law of propriety; any sort of shame or dignity.

“M-Mother…!” he croaked out

Oh, gods how cruel! I cannot shed tears! I cannot shed tears of happiness of joy…of sadness and pain! Of longing! How cruel!

“Odysseus…” Anticlea opened her arms.

She stood there. She didn’t come closer. Odysseus practically ran; as much as his old frail body allowed him to, and he threw himself in her embrace which close around him for the first time after.

“Ma…!” he called out again, “Gods! Gods!”

He nested in her arms; he hugged her as if he wanted to merge her with him; as if he wanted to merge into her body like he was almost a century prior! Finally! Finally!

“Ma!” he cried again out, “Hug me…! Please! Hug me…! H-Hold me…! Please!”

He cried out three times; like three times he had tried to embrace her back then when he was flesh and blood and she was a silent shadow who could talk to him only through the blood of the ram he had sacrificed! His mother’s bony fingers embraced him! Her hands ran through his hair. Odysseus practically slid to the ground, his stomach touching the rocks of Hades! His face was nested in his mother’s arms; his hands grasping the material she was wearing; desperately and his mother knelt to the ground, caressing his white from age head as if he were a baby who had just woken up from a nightmare. He wanted to nest in her arms; curl up there and be protected! His mother didn’t need to speak. She was only humming an old song he hadn’t heard in years…trying to soothe the storm of his soul… How weird indeed how despite her sorrows making her older, he looked so much older than her now; her veil was covering her still thick hair while his had started to thin out while he was growing older; her limbs were thin from sadness but his were shrunk by age; fingers stiff and rough from pains and years; her legs hidden under the long dress still strong and steadfast; his were beaten up by age and weather adorned by his infamous scar he got when he was just a lad…

“Gods…!” he whispered again, “Gods…! R-Release me…! No more…! Let me stay here…! My heart will burst if I go further…!”

He felt Menelaus’s hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, old friend, get up…” he said softly, “You are a king among kings now. Show some dignity”

The playful voice he heard from his lips was something that partially brought him back to reality but he still did not wish to let go. It took his mother’s encouragement and Menelaus’s assistance to drag his body off the ground and back to his feet. He almost felt dizzy as he leaned against Menelaus, almost to the point of fainting (even if he knew he wasn’t allowed that anymore. He was no flesh and blood. He was shadow and shade). Menelaus was true to his promise as he supported him as he leaned his head against his shoulder trying to catch his breath.

“Gods…I can’t…I can’t take this anymore…” he whispered

“There there…” Menelaus cooed at him, “You are almost there I am sure. You have endured so much, my friend! Just a little longer…”

“And then…this pain…will go away…?” Odysseus looked at him pleadingly

“Or you will learn to live with it” Menelaus smiled sadly, “Is no different than life, really…if you think about it. We lived with this pain for decades; so much so that we forgot what it feels like till our journey here reminded us. But you’ll have us here, my friend. You will never be alone again…”

The Much Enduring Odysseus lowered his head. Menelaus was right. What would be the difference? They would still live with shades. The shades that were in their heads before just happened to be around them now.

“I will accompany you for a little while” Menelaus said, “Until I cannot go further. Is that okay with you, Diomedes?”

It was the first time Odysseus heard anyone address Diomedes. Maybe they were all in awe and fear before his godly power. Either way Diomedes nodded. Yes, there would be no problem to have another person with them again for a little while. But then Odysseus felt fear bite his soul once again as he recognized the 108 figures of the suitors arriving! To their head there was Palamedes! The man he never thought he would see or rather he wished with all his soul he wouldn’t see. The people behind he could possibly handle but Palamedes? No, he knew he would have to face him sooner or later.

“Odysseus!” Palamedes called out, “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here!”

“Well…in my defense there was nowhere else I could go!” Odysseus mumbled as he made a few steps back, his mind paralyzed in fear

It was good that Menelaus was holding him. Palamedes laughed, soon followed by the rest of his wife’s suitors.

“Just imagine! The mighty Odysseus the one who slay us one by one is now in this condition! Frail and old! Shivering in fear before us!”

Feeling some of his old pride coming back, Odysseus stepped up a bit and faced his accusing party with as much courage he could master. Yes, currently his shade was weak, old, exhausted. He could not match the strength and vigorousness of these young men he had sent to Hades so long ago! However his pride would not allow this to be taken down one more time, especially by these people that wished to hurt his family.

“Will it give you satisfaction, Palamedes? Will it give satisfaction to all of you to beat down the shade of an old man? Will it change anything to our current condition?”

Every breath was hard, every word almost impossible. However Odysseus endured. Just like Menelaus had advised him; he had to live with the pain. He had to learn to accept it.

“No, but perhaps it will make us feel better thinking what you did to us!”

“Back off, Palamedes!” Menelaus commanded, wrapping his arm around Odysseus’s shoulders, “You had your chance years ago. You shall not touch this man! Not while I am here! If it weren’t of all of your unholy deeds you wouldn’t have come down so soon!”

“Menelaus speaks the truth!” Agamemnon responded, “This man is a king! You shall not touch him!”

“He is no king! He is nothing but a common butcher!” Antinous retorted

“Then that makes you nothing but a common thief” Menelaus pointed out, “Leave it be, Antinous! Do not taint your acts even further! This man suffered all his life and he is dead! Live with it!”

“How much deeper can we get!” Palamedes mocked him, “As you said we are dead!”

“You don’t wanna know!” Menelaus pointed out, his eyes now sparkling seriously, “Do not anger the gods even further! Heck, you are at the presence of one right now! Just leave it be!”

The large figure that got between them, cut the debate in half.

“Back off!” Ajax said emphatically, pointing his large finger against the chest of the previous prince, “You said what you had to say now back off!”

“What are you doing?!” Palamedes hissed, “He was supposed to be your enemy! He-…”

The finger on his chest once again made him stop.

“Back. Off!” Ajax commanded one last time.

Palamedes knew he didn’t stand a chance against that giant. The princes felt their need for revenge a bit puffing out. They backed down a bit. Palamedes eyed Odysseus with pure hatred.

“This isn’t over, Odysseus of Ithaca!”

“Pray that it is” Menelaus retorted, “This man is not alone! Remember that, Palamedes!”

Only when the souls of these men left the picture, Odysseus allowed himself to breathe. He would almost have collapsed again but Menelaus seemed ready this time, supporting him. Odysseus looked at the giant form of Ajax. His eyes spoke so many words even if his mouth could not put them together.

“Thank you…” he whispered. It was all he could say

“A favor for a favor” Ajax said plainly, “My debt is repaid”

Odysseus only lowered his head. He bowed before the greatness of that man as he had done so many times in the past. He looked at Diomedes who was still observing the scene; as if seeing his old war comrades.

“I am ready, Diomedes” Odysseus said, “Please, lead the way to the end…”

Diomedes silently nodded. Odysseus marched again, this time with Menelaus by his side, supporting him. He felt a warmth he hadn’t felt before. Yes, he would live with the pain. He had done so all his life. So he took a step.

And then another…

And another…

*

Menelaus was true to his word. He accompanied them for a long time. The two of them talked for many things; wars, trips, encounters. It was good to have another person to talk to him; someone who understood his pain…someone who had been through that before… And then once more, Menelaus stopped, like his companions stopped before. He could not go any further. Odysseus had looked at him like he was saying a final goodbye. His old friend had reassured him they would wait for him till his journey was over.

“Till it’s over…” Odysseus thought, “How long will that be though…?”

His travel lasted for something that seemed like an eternity to him… Maybe he had more of that to come. Now he was alone again, walking behind the light of Diomedes. More shadows of kings and queens had passed by them as they walked. When he spotted a tall, dark-haired figure playing with a toddler barely one years old, Odysseus covered his face with his veil and looked the other way in shame. No, he couldn’t face Hector of Troy…not yet! Hector, the Tamer of Horses looked up from his son only for one second but he didn’t seem to notice. He turned his attention back to his son, joined by his family as well. Odysseus silently cried his known now tear-less cry. So much pain and sorrow! And yet there was hope…at least they saw themselves again… He would face them eventually…just not yet…not yet… And they didn’t recognize him.

“Who would recognize an old, wandering shadow…?” he thought

“We are almost at the final section of this trip, Odysseus” Diomedes whispered, breaking him out of his thoughts, “Soon it will be over…it is all up to you”

“I…understand…” Odysseus nodded apprehensively. He was exhausted

“Are you afraid?”

Diomedes had voiced the same thing he asked him when he was about to take him from his bed that night. His voice was reassuring at least.

“No…” he whispered after some thought, “I have to do this anyway…let’s get it over with…”

Just a bit further they walked, Odysseus was once more hugging his veil around him, feeling older, insignificant and yet Menelaus and his companions, the other kings had given him strength to move on. And then they reached two ebony doors. They were as huge as a city wall. The carvings on the door were complicated; depicting battles and stories untold by humans through human voices and mouths. The intimidating gate was there in the middle of the misty underworld, as if coming out of nowhere. It was not attached to wall or anything similar to a building. It was just a gate in the middle of nowhere. Odysseus felt the clenching in his soul.

“This is it…” Diomedes said, “The final passage…”

Odysseus gulped.

“What’s on the other side?”

“I don’t know” Diomedes replied simply, “That is something you have to discover on your own to the other end…”

“Am I going to re-live my past…?”

“I don’t know…probably”

“Will I get to meet more of those who were wronged by me…?”

“It is possible…”

“This is the only way, right?”

“Yes…”

Odysseus held his veil tightly over the spot of the throbbing heart.

“It will be painful…won’t it? Almost unbearable…”

“Yes…” Diomedes couldn’t lie, “But the reward at the end will be worth it…”

“Penelope…!” Odysseus whispered in outmost longing

“Yes…” Diomedes confirmed, “She is waiting for you at the end of your journey, that’s all I know… That was her journey…”

“So I have to go to her…to relieve her from this pain…”

“Yes”

Odysseus sighed and then looked up. His eyes were pleading. Diomedes could almost see the tears running down those old, wrinkled cheeks. It almost looked like a cat lost in the rain for too long, begging to be taken in.

“Will you stay with me…?” Odysseus mumbled in a trembling voice, “I lied before…I’m scared…”

Diomedes smiled softly, almost like a warm sun after a spring rain.

“Of course…” he whispered

Odysseus closed his eyes as if instinctually trying to hold back the tears he was unable to shed.

“Thank you…” he whispered

Once again he accepted Diomedes’s arm and slowly marched towards the gates. The gates opened to let them in…into some cold corridor…with no apparent end…

The doors shut behind them…

***

Oh my...once again I was crying writing! Hopefully the emotions get through! And I was once again listening to emotional songs, more specifically from the anime Vampire Knight Guilty, that has some of the most emotional pieces I have ever heard! I was listening to plenty of them, in particular the Main Theme:

I was just crying with it...

So....Odysseus wandering in the Underworld and feeling the pain and pressure of the journey, a random thing that I though would fit! And meeting with the other kings among others!

And of course we have some iconic kings like Menelaus and Agamemnon. Not sure why I imagined Menelaus with hazel eyes maybe I was influenced a lot by art such as @thehelplessmortals in regards to his eye color (and oh boy I didn't realize I also kinda referenced the hug tag thing! Hahaha! I realized it later!). Also for Ajax you can look at designs such as @jacobpking to get an idea of what I had in mind! Most of the descriptions of the characters are one way or another based on their descriptions in Iliad and Odyssey ^_^

Many have expressed their need for more Odysseus and Menelaus material including @wolfythewitch with whom we also discussed at a comment section! This is a bit more bittersweet tender thing but I would expect more would come with these two! Also Menelaus potentially dying young is linked to my other theory about Menelaus having heart issues (their meeting is hinting another story I am thinking of writing in the future)

And of course Anticlea moment destroyed me! TT-TT These two deserved a closure here!

Okay for the afternote now! I hope @ditoob and my dearest friend @loco-bird will find this closure satisfactory! ^_^

***

(Afternote)

His steps were steady. For some reason the world around him was dressed in white. Everything above, below and around him shone as if made of white light. He didn’t feel the pain anymore. In fact he could hardly feel anything. For a while he was afraid he had gone completely numb. Diomedes had left a while back. He had supported him throughout the tunnel, holding his hand as if he were a baby. Every step he had taken felt like a millennia…his body seemed to be suffering with every one of them however now he felt surprisingly lighter. His body didn’t hurt anymore. It almost felt like he had gained his youth again; as if he was back to his prime age. It felt weird but Odysseus didn’t have a mirror to look into. He stopped for one second to draw a breath.

“In the end you found your way, baby…”

The voice…that voice that was ringing in his ear; that voice that almost seemed to be coming out of his very chest! There was no doubt about it! He turned to see that lean figure, covered in her veils, waiting at a distance.

“P-Penelope!”

His voice was a whisper of outmost longing! It was the greatest relief he had felt so far during that arduous trip in the underworld. She was right there! Her blue eyes shining like crystal waters, her ivory white skin shining as always…her raven-black hair framing her face! Diomedes was right! A millennia worth of pain was not even nearly enough payment for this result! He ran at her and just squeezed her in his arms! There was nothing else he could do but that! No power on earth; in this life or the next seemed able to separate them; as if they sought to become one. Their lips joined in a kiss so deep as they hadn’t shared before; death had separated them…death had brought them back together. It almost seemed like they wanted to share their soul. They parted only to embrace again.

“Penelope! Joy of my life…! Finally! Finally!”

Penelope wrapped her arms around him. Buried her face in his chest and almost sobbed if she had tears to shed.

“It took you some time to find your way…” she whispered meaningfully

Odysseus laughed shaking from the unreleased sobs.

“Y-Yes…” he whispered, “Forgive me…you have been waiting…”

Penelope pulled back a bit and smiled.

“We both did….”

Before Odysseus had time to ask, Penelope moved a bit aside and the little brown and black creature with the short fur appeared behind her. His tail was wagging ecstatically full of vitality. There was no sign of flee or parasite on his body. The dog gave a happy bark

“Argos!” Odysseus cried out

As if on a queue his loyal friend rushed at him and Odysseus knelt to meet him mid-way and Argos simply attacked his face with his pink tongue, shaking all over in excitement; giving him the greeting and welcoming he wished he could have given him so many years ago

“Argos!” Odysseus cried out, “Boy I am so happy to see you! Gods! Hey, easy boy! Easy!”

He caressed the fur, squeezed the muscular body and caressed the long ears! He wanted to do all things he never did with his loyal companion while he was alive! Penelope watched with her face distorted in emotion. Odysseus stood up.

“Penelope…?” he caressed her cheek, “My love what’s wrong…?”

“Oh, Odysseus!” she embraced him tightly. Odysseus knew she would cry if she could, “I missed you so much!”

“Me too! Me too, joy of my life! Every second was an eon!”

“And our home…our palace in Ithaca…our bed! I miss them so much!”

Odysseus felt his previous despair getting lost before his will to protect and support her. She was giving him strength as always.

“Shhh…” he cooed at her, running his hands through her silken locks, “I know…I miss them too…and I always will…but…this is where we must live now…”

He cupped her cheeks. He looked at her sincerely as she also did the same; she cupped his cheeks with her hands, feeling his beard.

“However we have each other now…Penelope…you are my Ithaca…” he whispered emphatically

He leaned his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes in delight.

“This is our home now” he repeated, “…and we shall stay…together!”

And he embraced her again. Argos was moving around their feet as if blessing their re-union.

“Oh, Penelope! I will never let you go! Never again! Never!”

“What if…” Penelope hesitated, “What if they send you to Elysium?”

Odysseus scoffed.

“I highly doubt there is much chance for that. I have done many things that no one should be proud of…Elysium doesn’t sound a place for me to be but even if that were to happen…I won’t go…”

“Would you…sacrifice that…?”

“Penelope…Immortality was too much of a price to pay to lose you! Now that I found you…Elysium would be torture…” he embraced her, “I need your strength, my love. Please don’t leave me again…!”

“Never…” Penelope replied, “I will always protect you, my husband, even without you asking…”

They shared another kiss. That earned a bark from Argos. They pulled back and chuckled together.

“Shall we go then, my love?” Odysseus suggested, “Let’s go and wait for our son to come in the future…”

“In many years to come I would hope…”

“Yes…if gods will it…in many, many more years to come…”

He whistled once. Argos lifted his ears and wagged his tail.

“Let’s go, boy! Let us go and explore this new world…”

Argos raising his paw in the air barked again. If he were a human he wouldn’t have spoken truer words. Odysseus took his wife by the hand. Yes, he would take the pain now that he had his wife by his side…his friends and companions. He could face eternity as he should be despite the coldness of the underworld. He had them.

He had Penelope…

He had everything he needed.

[nytb]

White Never Suited You

Click Here first <3

Nostalgia was never this sour. Y/N's arrival in Germany came at a cost - her short lived love story left behind in Ibiza - everything was bound to change.

The cold breeze that gazed Y/N's skin, the empty apartment she once shared with Laura, all the memories started to kick in. This time, the memories tasted sour; feelings of sadness and anger burning deep in her stomach. The heartache shifted - it was no longer just about Barcelona.

Behind the scenes, preseason hit the Catalonian hard. Her physical state was out of this world, but her focus - nonexistent.

The lack of commitment Y/N showed wasn't well perceived by the German club, they had put their ass on the line for her; now she had to deliver.

Doubting Y/N's professionalism backfired quickly - the Germans lifted their first trophy after beating Arsenal in their preseason tournament. A victory that was taken as a symbol of how Eintracht Frankfurt, they were ready to compete for big things; European trophies.

What they failed to see? Her quick trips to the land of the sun - Y/N took every opportunity to see her Catalan love.

For the most part, said trips didn't affect Y/N's performances. Eintracht Frankfurt was second in the German league, top of their group in the Champions league. The best part? Y/N was the top goalscorer in both competitions and her best friend - Laura Freigang - followed suit, topping the assists she delivered game after game.

Y/N was ruling the world - in an Eintracht Frankfurt shirt - something that a while back was implausible.

Quickly enough, cracks started to show as the Catalonians relationship created its own foundation - it soon crumbled. The fear of commitment hidden in Alexia's eyes; who would have thought that such heartbreak would follow.

The daily FaceTime calls became weekly check ins. Their night time rituals were nonexistent. The constant holiday planning out the window. Having a tight schedule might have been a good excuse - but not for Y/N - the Catalan star was adamant in keeping her relationship, their break up was inconceivable.

Missing Alexia lead Y/N to Barcelona; an impromptu trip, an unannounced one.

Showing up to the Ciutat Deportiva an hour after training ended, Alexia was surely still there - the woman always put an extra shift in.

Seeing her practice free kicks, going on solo runs towards goal, Alexia was in her element. The sparkle in her eyes, Y/N was smitten once again.

"Didn't see you there" Alexia approached her lover "Gimmie 10, I'll get cleaned up" Little did she remember, Y/N loved Alexia in all states, sweat included. Quietly, she made her way into the locker room, following Alexia, making sure nobody else was on site.

The sight of her body, all the curves shining, her hair wet and loose. Y/N was turned on - who wouldn't be - drenching herself in water, Alexia's shower no longer mattered. Now, it was just them, standing together, holding each other.

Magical moments followed, even Alexia's fear of commitment wasn't enough to stop her - the love they felt for each other was undeniable.

A connection people would die for. A relationship that was soft and rough at the same time. Calm with it's own storms. Caring and forgiving. A relationship people dreamed of.

Interrupting the fun - Patri walked in before Y/N's hunger for Alexia could be soothed. "Sorry Sorry" the midfielder excused herself "Wait, Y/N?" now she was confused.

Y/N's old teammates knew that Alexia had something going on, but they were sure that this Catalan love story had ended back in Ibiza. They might have been inseparable during their holiday, but Alexia was never a fan of long distance relationships and everyone knew that.

Not wanting to put salt in the wound, they stopped talking to Y/N - Imagine your exes friends reaching out 24/7, not fun huh? - so they didn't. They kept their distance, watching from afar. They imagined that Y/N's heart would be torn to pieces, but that moment - it was unexplainable.

"Who else would it be?" Y/N laughed, oblivious of the situation. Behind her, Alexia looked at Patri with pleading eyes, hoping that her teammate wouldn't blab, wouldn't sell her out - and a loyal soldier she stayed, betraying Y/N in the process - laughing at Y/N's question, diffusing the situation.

Not thinking much of it, their evening plans continued. A romantic dinner in Y/N's favorite restaurant. Luckily for Alexia, she hadn't stepped foot in that place with her new side piece.

Talking of a possible future, Y/N filled Alexia in; Fc Barcelona were moving to sign her once the season ended. The lack of a clinical winger showed and Y/N was the perfect fit.

Not sure of Alexia's feelings on the matter, Y/N inquired "I don't get it? Aren't you happy that I might be back soon?" a possibility that months ago, Alexia would have died to hear, but now: it sounded like a nightmare.

"I am, I..I didn't expect it" she answered, showing uncertainty, she still tried to hide it "I guess white never suited you" she laughed it off.

Playing the whole thing down, dinner went as planned. Making out in the uber on their way to Alexia's place, time hadn't stopped for them.

Alexia had ran to the bathroom to freshen up, but Y/N; she made her way to the bedroom and what she saw was unforgivable.

Alexia's side piece laying there, wearing lingerie, posing with rose petals around her. It was Y/N's nightmare. A woman she once described as the love of her life - betraying her - in the worse way possible.

In the other room, Alexia wasn't aware of the situation, a surprise for both parties; a parting gift from Patri. She was the only one that knew of Alexia's side piece surprise, yet she kept it secret. Betraying Y/N had a limit and Alexia reached it. Patri couldn't - wouldn't - allow her captains betrayal to go any further.

Running out of the apartment, quietly, Y/N made her way to Patri's apartment. She couldn't see the full picture, but surely - her friend turned sister - would be in her corner. Little did Y/N know, Patri showed no surprise when she broke the news to the midfielder.

Feeling betrayed from all angles, Y/N was out for revenge. What minutes before felt like heartache turned to anger and who better to relieve it than Mapi.

Alexia's best friend, a person that Y/N found attractive from the moment she laid eyes on her. Leon was the only person that made Alexia feel insecure when it came to the Catalonians relationship - the only person that could break them.

That night, anger won. Y/N's hunger for revenge, biting down on the defenders shoulders as Leon pleased the Catalonian to no end. Leaving scars behind that only Alexia would recognize, scars that Y/N had once left on her body.

Revenge was sweet, until the sun came up.

In Mapis bedroom, the defender didn't question her luck. She had lusted over Y/N since she met the Catalonian - who wouldn't.

Quietly putting her clothes back on, Y/N didn't realize that the defender was awake. Was it regret that she felt? Maybe.

Y/N was unreachable, whatever the defender had tried in the past had failed - and as usual - the defender was quick to put 1 and 1 together.

This unbelievable night was only revenge to Y/N. Mapi's dream was only a means to an end for the Frankfurt star; hurt Alexia in any way possible.

[xuchiya]

underneath the stars moments

a long chapter

₊˚.༄ || soft valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

i have this thought of jongho talking about the famous painting of van gogh. yes, the starry night. and the 12 sunflower, self-portrait, the cafe terrace at night— even the almond blossoms.

amsterdam. it was located at amsterdam; the museum of van gogh's paintings. you turn to jongho, all attention to the series playing on the television. you were at the kitchen counter, in front of your laptop with the flight tickets pending.

it was his dream to see the museum and your grandmother lives there and have a reason to visit without having suspicion.

"you're going to visit your grandma? at amsterdam?" jongho, on his pajamas, watch by the doorway as you pack up your stuff; including some of jongho's incase he forgot few clothes to pack. you hum, folding the scarf, "we're visiting grandmama, hun."

his eyes widen, pointing at himself, "me? I'm coming with you?" you nodded, chuckling. you close the suitcase and lean on one hip, "you don't want to?"

you pray that he agrees or else the whole plan will fail. jongho had a hesitant look in his eyes, "well it's across the world but ..." you gulp at his pause, shoulders tense. jongho look back at you with a small smile, "but it's not like i have never done that when i'm on tour with hyungs."

your shoulders suddenly relax, step one being check on the list to convince or tell jongho the 3 day trip.

little did you know, jongho had also check his step one.

the plane had landed on the runway, offering a glimpse of Amsterdam's quaint rooftops nestled beside sprawling canals.

a hit nostalgia erupt in your chest. You, the girl raised amidst the vibrant chaos of San Juan, and Jongho, the boy who dreamt of windmills and tulips, were finally landing in his dream city.

as you rolled your suitcase out of the airport, the crisp Dutch air sent shivers down your spine. Jongho notice your shivering body, offered you his jacket, his touch lingering a beat too long, sending a flutter in your stomach.

"thank you hun." He mouthed a 'no problem'. The taxi ride to your grandmother's house was a whirlwind of foreign sights and sounds, as the car turn, you notice the newly renovated playground. the playground that you grew up to. Jongho notice it, "your childhood place?"

you hum, a smile curling on your lips, "yeah my brother and I used to visit this place." jonho nodded. your brother was across the country too, working as a computer engineer.

it was still the same after years you left your hometown, and you couldn't feel one thing but nostalgia

upon reaching your destination, a quaint two-story house with ivy creeping up its facade, you felt a pang of apprehension. Your grandmother, a stern woman with a heart of gold, wasn't known for her fondness for strangers, let alone boyfriends.

"grandmama!" you called, dropping your items before rushing towards her. Jongho chuckles, picking up your purse and scarf before approaching you and your grandmother.

you braced yourself as you introduced him, her keen eyes scanning him from head to toe, "boyfriend?" Her lips pursed in disapproval, the etched lines on her face deepening. A familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

jongho stayed still, not know how to act when he realised that this is the first time he met one of your relatives. he glance at you for some kind of help but you reassured him with a smile, turning back to your grandmother.

"yes grandmama. he's good at singing too!" you saw a flicker of something else in her gaze, a hint of amusement perhaps, or maybe a grudging acceptance. you know you hit something there when you mention singing.

she was a singer once too. famous back in her time, you smile knowing at the end of this trip—she and jongho would be in good terms.

the following days were a whirlwind. you played as the tourist, leading jongho to places you recommended and places of your favorite. You strolled hand-in-hand through vibrant flower markets, marveled at the Anne Frank House, and took romantic canal cruises.

jongho has his vintage camera out, snapping pictures here and there—when he place his eye on the eye cup, his lens focus on you. crouch on the tulips stands, his heart fluttered when you spoke in Dutch, they way you converse with them so smoothly and elegantly.

his fingers hover over the button, snapping a couple pictures of you.

his step two is check.

your lips curled upward when the storekeeper pluck a tulip and gave it to you. the storekeeper pushed you towards him, "mr. Leo I cannot accept this."

mr. leo shake his head, a smile on his bearded face, "oh hush dear, it had been a while since you visited." jongho eyes you with affection, you were so beautiful that it overwhelmed him. you notice your boyfriend's gaze, your eyes sparkles.

"mr. leo, this is jongho. my boyfriend. " you cling on his arm, jongho bowing at mr. leo. He eyed jongho before sticking out his hand, jongho slightly confused but grasp his hand.

a firm shake before mr. leo lets go, "strong. I like it." his voice is rough and deep. you chuckle, patting jongho's back, "he is."

jongho was confused, "huh?"

mr. leo answered, amused "i know a person is strong when I see one. and that reassure me that you can take care of her."

jongho smiles, looking at you with adoration, puffing his chest, "of course, I will."

One evening, jongho was ask (by your grandmother) to helped in preparing dinner, confusing you but didn't question which in jongho's dismay.

she stirred the soup while jongho set up the table, "jongho." she called. jongho halted, heart flipping at the firm voice of your grandma, "yes grandma?"

"do you love my granddaughter?" his throat clogged. of course, more than ever. he nodded, clearing his throat, "yes i do. she's my everything." your grandmother turn around, eyeing him, "why?"

jongho was taken back. he was not expecting this question as he never questions his love for you. he'll go beyond any lengths.

"I love your granddaughter who she is—anything and everything. no question ask." with the answer given by him, your grandmother felt reassured. nodding, she turned back around, "okay."

he guess, step three is check?

later that dinner, everything went well. your favorite food was cooked, your grandmother seems to slowly warm up to jongho— still questioning what happened will resting in your old room.

after your grandmother observe him, a rare smile playing on her lips. you and her were on the back, on the veranda, "He seems serious about you." she finally said, her voice gruff but softer than usual. "he might pop up a question any time dearie, be prepared." she added, a twinkle in her eye.

relief washed over you. you realized your grandmother wasn't just tolerating him; she was beginning to see what you already knew - that beneath his easy smile lay a genuine heart worthy of her granddaughter's affection.

as you smile, sipping on your tea when you suddenly choke upon what you heard from your grandma a little late, "wait what question?!"

the last day came, the whole morning was about jongho and your grandmother having a little session at the small town in your area.

they were a great combo.

when afternoon, came you dress up again then going downstairs to see your boyfriend and grandma on a hushes conversation which in panic, your grandma smack him on the head for being 'too noisy' while he read the newspaper. upside down.

you walk in, confused "is there ... something going on?" your grandma cleared her throat, waving you off, "I told him I'll cut his balls off if he ever hurts you, even a paper cut."

you were flabbergasted, "grandmama!" you stare at your boyfriend, who was red in the face—hiding behind the newspaper.

you stare at your boyfriend, eyes squinting. you both were in the taxi, on your way to your destination the awkwardness dissipates the moment jongho looks at you; pouting, looks like it's angry but just look like a angry Maltese to him.

he shakes his head, just grabbing your hand squeezing it, "such curious cat hun." you huff, looking at the window, not really mad at him but —yeah, you were curious.

you turn back to him, "how come you both were on the top ten most tensed people the moment you step inside the house then the next day as if you were his grandson instead?"

jongho looks at you, leaning closer before pecking the tip of your nose, pulling away by a an inch, "you'll know soon."

when you both arrive at the place, stepping out the car had jongho confused at the silent yet illuminated building. you grasp his hand, leading him inside the building. when entering the building, jongho felt his eyes watered in excitement.

it's the museum he was talking about. van gogh's museum.

he turn to you, his eyes settled on your soft eyes. they held emotions he couldn't explain yet behind those were happiness.

"thank you hun." he spoke so gently, taking your hand in his. you smiled, shaking your head, "no need to thank me, it was my plan after all."

his step four ...

oh how could he tell you when you were back in the apartment that he accidentally saw at your laptop to see the tickets confirmed to your hometown when he was grabbing a drink?

how could he tell you that he panic to his hyungs about different things when you guys landed at Amsterdam? how could he tell you that he had different plan?

oh, how could he tell you that ever since the trip, he has been carrying a ring inside his pocket?

The museum hummed with a quiet reverence, the late-evening air thick with the scent of aged paper and possibility. Jongho kept himself from checking the box inside his coat without having you being suspicious to him but his heart is hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

Tonight was the night. he or more like your grandmother had pushed him to go on with the plan. As he approached the designated room, a wave of anticipation washed over him. The room was bathed in an ethereal glow, engulfing the place like the actual painting.

He found you, standing amidst the celestial spectacle, a smile gracing on your lips that mirrored the crescent moon hanging low in the projected sky. Jongho's throat tightened; adjusting the scarf around his neck, his carefully rehearsed words dissolving into a puddle of nervous excitement.

"Wow," you take in the room, the swirling yellow hue as a resemble of the stars and the soft twinkling above the ceiling was mesmerizing. "It's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," Jongho blurted out, surprising himself with his sudden boldness. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, but he held your gaze, his heart pounding a fierce tattoo against his chest.

you chuckled, "that's very sweet, Jongho but I think the stars have you beat on that one."

Taking a deep breath, Jongho stepped closer, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. your fingers automatically intertwined with his, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He led you towards the center of the room.

the projector of the starry night was the only light that shines. you were confused, concerned etching on your face but jongho ignores it. "there's something ... i've been meaning to tell you," Jongho began, his voice husky with emotion.

it was now or never. step four on the go.

that's where your heart soared up on the starry night, jongho knelt down on one knee, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The ring box felt heavy in his hand, a tangible symbol of the question he was about to ask.

"hun..." he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you are the brightest star in my own galaxy. You make me laugh, you challenge me, you inspire me. You are my everything. You are i've ever wanted and more. So, with these stars as my witness," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, looking at you, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

He opened the box, revealing the ring nestled within, its diamond catching the projected starlight and sparkling like a fallen star. Tears welled up in your eyes, gaze shimmering with emotion.

"jongho…" you whispered, a hand flying to your mouth in surprise. your mind was all over the place but when your eyes landed on jongho, it was like everything started clicking.

his slight hesitation, his actions of taking you to your places, the way he always checks his pockets or bag whenever you visit a place—even checking his suitcase for something.

"he might pop up a question any time dearie, be prepared."

voice choked with happy tears, a smile bloomed on your face, "Yes," you spoke, voice trembling with joy, "a million times, yes!"

tears streamed down Jongho's face as he slipped the ring on your finger. a soft sob left your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, "i love you."

jongho chuckles, even amidst the tears down his cheeks, he whispers, "i love you too hun."

both of your plans were achieved, the stars being the witness of your own happiness, sadness-- whatever was stored for the both of you. this story of you and jongho is a testament to the love that shone brighter than any constellation.

all plan check, she said yes.

THAT IS THE END OF MY SOFT VALENTINE MASTERLIST. STAY TUNED FOR THE FILTH VALENTINE MASTERLIST.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Valkyria Chronicles? It's been a long time since I heard of that, thanks for the nostalgia trip you sent me on.

How about the squad 7 members when their S/O gets injured?

(Valkyria Chronicles) Welkin, Alicia, Isara, and Rosie's S/O getting injured

3 other friends and I have been playing VC2, and I've been replaying 1 and got reminded of my love for the game, thus their addition here.

Though absolutely startled to hear that S/O took a hit during the skirmish, Welkin tries his best to remain calm.

Welkin approaches the medical tent S/O is staying in and takes a deep breath seeing the bandage wrapped around them.

(Welkin) "Thank goodness you're alright..."

Before sitting next to S/O, he personally attends to every soldier that was injured as well, finally taking a seat next to S/O when he's done.

His mind is put at ease knowing they'd recover, but can't help but feel responsible for the injury since he ordered S/O into the position to begin with.

(S/O) "You don't have to stress about me y'know?...Ah, why don't you tell me about some of the animals you saw on the way here?"

LAST MISTAKE.

Now, S/O has to deal with the consequences of Welkin yapping their ear off about the type of fauna generally found in this area for an hour, getting his mind off their injury and onto his borderline-obsessiveness with nature.

Much to the dismay of S/O's other squadmates in the tent.

(Welkin) "-...and the type of beetles are also quite uncommon! They generally don't make themselves known until the spring and-...S/O?"

S/O was sprawled out on the bed with a drained smile, putting one hand on his shoulder.

(S/O) "Welkin...I think you should probably go to the debriefing."

(Welkin) "Huh?...OH! R-Right, I'll catch up with you later!"

Once he promptly made his exit, one of the soldiers next to S/O on the stretcher turned their head to them.

(Soldier) "Why did you have to ask him about nature?"

(S/O) "I...w-wasn't thinking..."

Alicia is absolutely stricken with worry the moment S/O's injuries reaches her.

Flying open the tent's flaps, her eyes scan the area before finally landing on S/O and rushing to their side.

(Alicia) "S/O! Are you alright?! How bad was the shot-"

(S/O) "W-Woah! Alicia, I-I'm alright!...OW!"

Alicia had grabbed their arm, and their wincing did little to calm her down.

(Alicia) "You call this 'alright'? If you had gotten hit any closer-"

She quickly goes silent when she realizes half the room was staring at her, making Alicia clear her throat.

(Alicia) "Apologies for disrupting the quiet. As you were, everyone."

With a quick salute she sighs and sits back down next to S/O, squeezing their hand.

(Alicia) "I'll be back with something to drink at least. Promise me you won't get hurt like this again, okay?"

(S/O) "As long as you promise to as well."

With a soft giggle and a final squeeze of their hand, she nods and leaves.

The moment she helps finishes the Edelweiss's repairs, Isara quickly makes her way to the medical tent where S/O was being held.

Isara sits next to S/O and brings them a canteen full of water.

(Isara) "Sorry I couldn't be here sooner, are you holding up okay?"

(S/O) "Yeah, just stings like hell..."

Isara's quiet laughter eases S/O, until they noticed some of the soldiers glaring at Isara.

She doesn't even have to hear them speak, Isara knows already what's got S/O trying to move out the bed.

(Isara) "First of all, you shouldn't be moving.-"

With a hand to their chest shoving them back in the bed, she shakes her head.

(Isara) "And secondly, don't focus on them. Just focus on me, okay?"

(S/O) "Darcsen or not, you're still fighting alongside us! They should-"

Isara's hand moved to S/O's and just holds it tightly.

(Isara) "Believe me, if they want to say something to my face, I'll have something to say right back...But thank you. It still means a lot to me."

S/O just sighs and nods, the pain of their injury mostly subsiding from their mind now.

Rosie would have kicked the door open if the medical tent was a building, instead the flaps flew wildly as she announced her presence.

(Rosie) "S/O, you idiot!"

S/O slumps in their bed as some snickering came from the other soldiers.

Though they were quickly silenced when Rosie closed the distance, gesturing for them to mind their own damn business.

Rosie crossed her arms and stood staring at S/O.

(Rosie) "How in the hell did you manage to get hit? What, were you just not paying attention?!"

(S/O) "Ugh, y-yeah. They caught me by surprise-"

(Rosie) "Next time, focus better on your drills! I'm not dragging your ass out of the fire if there's a next time!"

S/O wryly smiled and nodded, all the while Rosie just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

(S/O) "Appreciate the concern as always, Rosie."

(Rosie) "Psh, whatever."

Rosie at the very least grabs their shoulder tenderly...Before shaking it violently and startling S/O.

(Rosie) "Wipe that smirk off too. I gotta get back to cleaning my equipment."

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥

it's wednesday again!!!! i woke up weirdly early today lmao, and i've been editing all day.

tagged by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter ! <3

tagging the fantastic @skyrim-forever @umbracirrus @archangelsunited @saltymaplesyrup @orfeoarte

@oblivions-dawn @vivifriend @kookaburra1701 @changelingsandothernonsense @dirty-bosmer and anyone else who wishes to join in this week!! <3

this week, i bring a long (1.6k word) section of Chapter 42 of Cycle of the Serpent. the trio are on their way to Wolfskull Cave, and who knows what they'll find there… fun fact, this chapter (as of rough edits, not completed) is 11.5k words, my longest for the fic yet.

Clouds bowed over the distant horizon. The Sea of Ghosts had the peculiar honor of being a divide between Haafingar and Morthal, swamp and rocky shores, the flow of the saltwater carried into an estuary and the Karth River not too far from the Dragon Bridge lumber mill. Athenath thought of his father. He'd been a lumber worker when their mother had met him, and continued the line of work even when it took him away from the city of Anvil proper for days on end. He would come home, and sleep, and work, the post-Great War economy a wobbling, flightless thing, especially for the family of Mer. The map laid out the names of towns in dark ink, marked with the routes the trio had traced, spindly along the pre-illustrated paths. The road, which the trio had become familiar with and moreso by every trip out of the city, bore them west. The sun straggled through the mountains that crowded up one side of the way, laced through the limbs of the trees which bit down on a thick wind off the beach. Athenath pulled their knapsack tighter as his curls whipped at his cheek, scrunching their face as more tickled the back of his neck. The armor's stitching, courtesy of Emeros, held up well, and kept them warm. The leather held off the sun's burn and cold breeze, but in the summer-end heat, did its job a little too well in staving off the chill of the wind. Autumn was near its beginnings, however, and they could glean the slightest gold on the edges of the leaves. Hearthfire was near its end, as was the summer. Soon, the green grasses would grow brittle and flax-yellow, and the trees would be bare, aside from the evergreens and conifers that pinned the horizon together. Soon, maybe, this would all be over.

The inside-of-outside-of sensation which made the potent mixture of his distrust and revulsion had only grown in strength since the day before, as if it was coming to a grand crescendo. It snuck up on the Altmer, a spider on the shoulder or a whisper in the dark. He looked to Emeros and it coiled like an adder. He looked to Wyndrelis and it growled in warning like a dog. He looked to the sky and thought of the things the others had done to keep them alive, what they'd all done to keep one another alive, and it grew until it choked on its own ends, and suffocated under the weight of the reminders. The nights together in laughter or in silence, however few there were, still burnt brighter than what unseen hands tried to extinguish them. The cave was not far from the town of Dragon Bridge, past the farm where the chickens' clucking took up the air, along with the slightly sour, earthy-wet stench of livestock. The odor hung as the trio passed by, waving to the woman working to harvest what her garden had given her before it all went to ruin. The passing look of the idyllic spot before the sea, close to a town but just out of the way, brought back a gnawing of want for Riverwood. It was the first scant amount of peace that Athenath had experienced in this land, and the tall pines and looming mountains were a longing he couldn't put out of mind. Sure, there had been battle in the barrow and a hunt for a strange wolf and the skinning of it which left them nauseated and pale, but it was, in the hue of nostalgia, a fond memory. The time before the trek to Whiterun and the battle at the watchtower, the time before the Dragonborn. He did not want to know what it meant to carry that title. It wasn't theirs to take, they thought as they continued their leisurely pace in the middle of the other two, Emeros at the back, as though keeping watch for some invisible force, the Altmer's nerves on edge at the sight. Wyndrelis stepped in a slow stride, having spent early morning examining soul gems, most empty. He'd said something to himself about needing an enchantment table, and had scrutinized his mace while saying so, but all else had been nothing to the Altmer, who knew only the barest amount about magic. It was all around them, and for a high elf, knowing little magic was a shame, their ability with it ceasing at the fickle flame that they sometimes had luck in making with their fingers. But he'd had their excuses - raised in the Imperial province, in the time just after a war with elves, magic was a distrustful beast which skulked all around the air and deep into the earth. In the wake of such a war, Wyndrelis had not been daunted. He'd reached into the fabric of the world around them, took hold of the magic, and knit it into himself to make it his own.

And so had the wizards, stalking shadows of a cave hidden from the city and towns and farms, out of the way of all, and taking down ten men in one blow. Athenath swallowed dryly. The image of the cart full of stinking bodies wouldn't leave them, no matter how many times they scrubbed at their eyes with his curled fists and summoned spots to their vision. It was a mark in their mind like a long, broken scar. It took the story of the cave from tale to tangible. It made it real. And Athenath had, somewhere deep down, hoped it was merely myth. "We'll be heading up Mount Kilkreath," Emeros announced from his position at the rear, map clutched in his gauntlet-clad fingers. His gear made thin noises, cloth wrapping around the bottles inside his knapsack. Without his old experiments, he'd made more place for useful potions, and had been quick to purchase ingredients for healing and disease-cures, apparently spending the prior day after Athenath had stormed off in Angeline's Aromatics and working at the alchemy station and asking questions about the flora of Haafingar, where to find certain things, what she recommended for potency in the region, putting the hurried mixtures together. They would not be nearly as effective without time. Emeros had lamented the fact that morning while tucking them into his bag, sharpening his words until the warning was clear: that he would not be of much use if the other two became injured.

"That's not too far," Athenath remarked with a shrug and a small, apprehensive pause, "so Wolfskull Cave is close, then?" "It's practically across the road, we must have missed it by a mile or two the last time we were in the area." Wyndrelis grunted a small noise, as though this were his reply. As though he, too, were not at peace with the arrangement. They could have waited, or not gone to the cave at all. Captain Aldis was the authority in matters like this, but he was going to wait a whole two days to gather the people for the job. This was two days that none of the trio thought the city had. There was an electric quality to the air, like that shiver down the neck before a fearful wailing, that held the clouds at bay and kicked the roots up that grounded the trio's patience. The stench of rotten fruit and musty, humid chambers, the ache of the sleepless nights and the hum of a mood that wasn't theirs. The choice had fallen to the wayside long ago. "So, when we get there, what do we even do?" Athenath's question stuck in the air like a pin in a gown, the other two pausing, strides coming to a slow stop. The trio looked between one another, haggard eyes meeting haggard eyes. Emeros tightened a hand on the strap of his quiver slung over his waist, his bow in firm place on his back. "I'll take anything that's at a distance. I would recommend, however, we keep our heads down. We're merely here to investigate. Should we not see the need for combat, then we shouldn't make it necessary." Wyndrelis curled his lip. "Corpulus said something of wizards, correct?" A beat passed. A nod from the other two. "I don't expect this to be peaceful. I'll try to ward off spells, but you two will have to do the fighting, in that case." The warmth of Dawnbreaker collected in Athenath's awareness. The sword would serve them well if they went up against the undead, but weren't swords only as good as the swordsman? Their palms went clammy at the thought. They were not exactly a skilled swordsman, or fighter of any capacity. They preferred to hide in the shadows and dodge the light, to keep their footsteps quiet and to leave no trace of himself, not to fight up against anyone or anything.

Athenath tied their hair back with the scarlet ribbon in their pocket. He tightened it a handful of times to make sure it would hold, and drew in a long, tense breath. Their hair always had a habit of getting in his face at the wrong time. They wouldn't risk their own body betraying him in a moment of needed focus. "It's just up the way," Emeros looked to the figure of Meridia, the statue which grew closer with each step, "let's mind our surroundings and try to be quiet from this point onwards." The other two didn't reply, as though the idea had been taken to heart in the fullest extremes.

[shutupptara]

‘tis the damn season - nathan mackinnon

summary: set during the 2020-shortened season- you’re home for christmas when you run into one nathan mackinnon on a grocery run. it’s been years since you’ve last talked, let alone seen each other, but it’s quickly like no time has passed. and the road not taken looks real good now..

i’ve been writing this since 2020. much like all of my writing i’ve posted, you have @kat-hearts to thank for this. she lovingly bullied me into finishing a piece i hadn’t touched in years. set at christmas, but not a christmas story. also set during the pandemic, so reality is very hand wavy (aka the nhl pushing the season happens, but lockdown isn’t reallllly a big deal) so if that bothers you, maybe skip this one.

is this any good? i honestly don’t know, but i know i loved writing nate so pls enjoy

word count: 13,151

warnings: alcohol use, strong language, explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, a general disdain for life and choices made, a tiny bit of angst, hating on Florida (it’s okay i live there) a LOT of self indulgence

title from ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

It wasn’t that she didn’t like returning home for holidays, it was just a huge ordeal every time it happened. Not only was it a 3,000 mile trip, there was always ice and snow to contend with. Coupled with her well-meaning, albeit overbearing, neighbors, the holidays get to be a bit much for her to handle. Still, there’s something wonderful about the tranquility of home. Refreshing, really. With a year as stressful as 2020 had been, it was a blessing to be able to return home for the holidays.

Her first true day of Christmas break, her mother begs her to go to the store for her: there’s so much baking to prepare for, and while she is happy to do the shopping for her, she knows it’s so she won’t see her wrapping presents. Even at 26, her mom insists upon marking her gifts ‘from Santa’, and the nostalgia of it always makes her smile. So, against her better judgment, she ventures out to the closest Sobeys. She has her jacket and scarf pulled tightly around her, unwilling to admit to herself she really can’t take the cold anymore, but mostly wanting to hide to be in and out as quickly as possible.

She grabs a cart on her way in the store, unlocking her phone and holding it open in front of her, eyes sweeping across the list her mother had sent her with. It isn’t terribly long, thankfully. She makes quick work of grabbing what she needs, moving down the aisles long ago committed to memory with ease. Various other things get tossed into the cart as she moves: chocolate covered pretzels, a case of Diet Coke, her favorite cheese crackers.

When she reaches the wine aisle, she shrugs to herself, deciding it’ll be best to have some on hand, in case of an emergency. She grabs a bottle of Roscato for her mom, and two bottles of cab for herself. Once they’re safely in the cart, she makes her way to the checkout line. There’s quite a few people crowded there, and she tries to maneuver around to a shorter line, her brow furrowing when she spots a rather large looking man a few feet in front of her.

As she gets closer, realization washes over her. “Nathan MacKinnon,” she stops in her tracks, heart swooping in her chest. “As I live and breathe.” It comes out before she really even processes what’s happening.

He turns, almost as if in slow motion, his eyes widening when they land on her. “My god, it’s been ages. What are you doing here?”

She smiles slightly, suddenly hyper aware of how messy her hair is, and the fact that she hadn’t tried very hard when getting dressed this morning. “Could ask you the same thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you home for Christmas.” She knows for a fact she hasn’t. It was the one reprieve of being back in Cole Harbour - Nate was never here.

“Yeah, I’m usually not,” he shrugs. “I uh, you know with the year as crazy as it’s been, and the season being pushed, I’ve actually been home most of the year. Hanging out with Andy, Sid, Jack, Pete...” There’s a longing look on his face, mirroring the ache she knows is lingering in his chest. There’s an identical one inside of her, and she knows she’s to blame for the pain Nate’s dealing with. This wasn’t a particularly easy run in for either of them, but it’s almost refreshing in a way? She doesn’t care about the buddies he’s spending his time with, she would’ve asked if she did, but it’s obviously important to Nate she know, and she doesn’t want to read too much into that. Maybe he wants her to know he’s not spending time with another girl, and she hates that part of her is hopeful because of that but it’s not fair to be. She can’t expect him to stay single forever, simply because being here and seeing him has every feeling she’s ever felt for him rushing back.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she laughs. “I’m really glad I ran into you.” There’s a surprising amount of truth to that. God, it’s been almost eight years since she’s seen Nate, even in passing, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t followed his career. She’s from Canada for Christ’s sake, of course she follows hockey.

“I am too,” Nate grins. “Hey, you should come by later. There’s a few people coming over, no one you hate,” he raised his eyebrows and she can’t help but laugh. “No expectations, just drinking and fun. It would be nice to catch up.”

Without hesitation, she’s blurting out, “I would love that.”

“Great!” Nate exclaims. She can practically see him center himself in that moment, try to keep it together.

“I’m staying at my parents’ house,” she offers. Though I would much rather be with you, her mind continues, and she shakes her head to try to clear it. “Are you still two doors down?”

Nate reaches a hand up, rubbing the back of his hand awkwardly. “Nah, I bought a house when I signed with the Avs. It’s a bigger one, out on Albany Terrace. I think you’ll like it.”

She smiles brightly. “I’m excited to see it.”

“Yeah?” Nate mutters.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he offers. “Guess that means you have to give me your number.”

___

She makes a substantial effort to not show up right at 8 pm. It’s difficult, as she’s been a compulsively early person her whole life, but this time it feels necessary to be “fashionably late”. It helps that she fusses with what to wear for over thirty minutes- this shouldn’t be a big deal, and she doesn’t want it to be, but that doesn’t change the anxiety that’s swelling in her chest. She tells herself this isn’t anything to stress, it’s just catching up with an old friend and if things are awkward, she can always leave. Still, as she pulls up to Nate’s house, she realizes there’s a part of her that’s a tiny bit excited.

She takes in a slow breath as she kills the engine, nodding to herself as she climbs out of the car and heads up the walkway. She’s clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels in her left hand, never showing up empty handed instilled in her at a young age. She rings the doorbell, glancing around curiously as she waits. Her heart is pounding, and she’s ready to turn and bolt back to her car when the door swings open.

Nate’s standing in front of her, a soft smile on his face. She lets her eyes sweep over him, admiring the beige cable knit sweater straining over his shoulders. He looks so relaxed, so incredibly casual. “Hey! So glad you made it. Come in.” He steps aside, closing the door behind her. “That a bottle of Jack?” She can’t do anything but nod, holding it out to him wordlessly. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he laughs. “Everyone’s in the living room. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Nate leads the way through the house, stopping briefly in the living room on his way to the kitchen. “Hey guys!”

She peers around him, relieved to see there really wasn’t anyone she hated in attendance. Pete, who she's known her whole life and his girlfriend Hannah are first to greet her, ushering her to sit beside them.

“Hey squirt, it’s been ages,” Pete teases.

“You forget I’m older than you,” She laughs. “But yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“Where are you living now?” Hannah asks.

“Florida. Been there for almost five years.” She falls quiet then, eyes glancing at where Nate is still standing.

He fidgets, and clears his throat. “I’m gonna grab a drink.” With that, he disappears around the corner, and she’s left to slump into the couch.

For a while, she mostly listens to Pete talk about his job, or the crappy apartment Hannah’s parents are begging them to move out of. It’s only a matter of time until they end up engaged, she knows, and she’s happy they’ve found happiness. It does little to help her feel like less of a leper, though. As soon as she’s able to find a break in their one-sided conversation, she jumps on it, taking the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen. Nate’s on one of the other couches, talking to Andy about getting a Call of Duty game going, and that’ll be enough to keep him occupied for hours. No chance he’ll notice her absence until she can figure out what the hell she was thinking showing up here tonight.

She heads straight for the freezer when she enters the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of Jack, and grabbing a solo cup laid out on the counter. She drops a handful of ice into the cup, followed shortly after by a hefty pour of the dark liquid. She brings the cup to her lips after taking a long drink.

“Jack on the rocks, eh?” A voice behind her asks.

“‘Tis the damn season,” she mutters, turning to spot Sidney Crosby leaning against the doorframe. She raises her cup to him, taking another long drink.

He lets out a honking laugh, eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “didn’t really think you’d remember me, to be honest.” She had only encountered Sidney a handful of times, and she never thought she’d left much of an impression. Truth be told, she was always a little star struck around him- it was hard not to be.

He furrows his brow, frowning. “Come on, I met you a bunch of times when you lived in Pennsylvania. And Nate talked about you nonstop when you were-“ he trails off, shrugging.

“Pen pals?” She offers. She can tell Sidney doesn’t see it as bitter. There’s a sadness in her voice she probably won’t ever be able to shake when she’s talking about Nate.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t push her, thank god. Instead, he steps into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of Jack on rocks, and clinks his cup against hers. “Here’s to escaping hometowns,” he toasts.

She grins. She takes another long drink, frowning at her cup when she realizes it’s nearing empty. “I think I may get drunk tonight, Sidney.”

He offers her the bottle, “I’m with you. Let’s do it.”

Surprisingly enough, Sidney Crosby is the one to save her from the awkwardness of the evening. True to his word, he does stay in the kitchen and drink with her. They talk about everything from Sid’s most recent cup wins to why on earth she decided Florida was a good place for her to settle down. They tread very carefully on any conversation that can take a turn to Nate, and she’s thankful Sidney read the room. He’s quite fun to be around once you chip away the exterior and he lets his guard down. They relocate to the table in the corner, and keep the bottle of Jack between the two of them, both casually refilling their cups as the night wears on.

When the bottle is almost empty and she can feel her head swimming, she jumps at the sound of another person entering the kitchen. “Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Nate takes the seat beside her at the table, his leg bumping against hers as he maneuvers his chair. “Should’ve known you’d ditch me for Crosby.”

Opposite them, Sidney snorts. “Nah, just needed a drinking buddy, is all.”

“Sid is surprisingly good at drinking Jack,” she offers.

“Yeah?” Nate grins. “Seems like you’re pretty good too. Have you eaten anything?”

She taps her finger against her lips, considering, before shaking her head dramatically. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should fix that...”

Again, she shakes her head. “No room for food. Just alcohol.”

Nate smiles at her, and even in the haze of the alcohol, she feels her heart warm. It’s that same fond smile she’d loved so much when they were together, and she knows she can’t let her mind run away from her, but at the moment, she can’t rationalize why that’s the case. “In that case, let me break out the good stuff.” He stands up, heading to the cabinet above his stove. There, he grabs a fancier looking bottle, a dark brown liquid sloshing around as he carries it over to the table. “Crown Royal XR, so you never forget where you came from.” He takes the liberty of pouring her and Sid a glass before fixing one for himself, and reclaiming his seat.

She sniffs the liquid in the cup, eyes widening. “Ooof.”

“Don’t quit on me now,” Sid goads. He nudges her with his elbow, giggling.

She shakes her head adamantly. “Momma didn’t raise a quitter,” she announces. She raises her glass, waiting as Nate and Sid follow suit. “Here’s to Cole Harbour’s golden boys.” She sees Nate roll his eyes, but he’s smiling when he brings his glass to his lips.

She takes a long drink, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Oh, that is really smooth.”

“Everything’s better when it’s Canadian,” Sid pipes up.

She giggles at this, which makes Nate quirk an eyebrow. “There’s no arguing that point, Florida.”

“Come on, Florida isn’t that bad,” she insists.

Nate looks to Sid, then back to her, shrugging. “The fact that you have to say it that way doesn’t help your case.”

“It doesn’t snow there!”

“Boo,” Sid says.

“How do you even survive without hockey down there?” Nate adds.

“Shut up, there’s hockey! My friend Nick would argue Tampa is a huge hockey town. Wait- oh my god!” She cuts herself off, looking around excitedly. She pats the pockets of her pants, pulling a face when she can’t find her phone.

“What are you doing?” There’s a distinct amusement in Nate’s voice.

“Where’s my phone? I wanna FaceTime Nick. He always gives me shit about knowing y’all. He pretends he doesn’t believe me because he’s never met you, so somehow that means I haven’t? I don’t even know...”

“Nick your boyfriend?” Nate grumbles, voice low.

She just snorts out a laugh, and takes her phone when Sidney slides it over to her. She clicks around on it for a second, then the distinct sound of a FaceTime call fills the room. She drums her fingers against the table impatiently, eyes lighting up when the line clicks on.

“Hey!” An excited voice fills the room.

“Hey Nick! What’re you up to?” She keeps the phone close to her, keeping Nate and Sid out of the frame.

“Well, it’s almost one in the morning on winter break so obviously I’m drunk with Garrett.”

“Tell him I said hi,” she insists.

“Sure. What’re you doing?”

Her eyes light up again, and she grabs her glass excitedly. “I’m also drunk, but I wanted to show you who I happen to be drunk with.” She downs the rest of the liquid in her glass and slides her phone back farther on the table, angling the camera to capture all three of them in the frame. “I give you Nate MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby.”

“Holy shit. That’s- fucking hell, that’s actually Sidney Crosby!”

She chuckles, turning the phone to face Sid and he waves awkwardly. “I told you, you don’t grow up in Cole Harbour without knowing the pride and joy of the city.”

“But you said you’d only met him a few times! And Nate MacKinnon too, what the fuck...”

“In the flesh. Oh, and Nate wanted to know if you were my boyfriend before I called.” She peers over at him, watching his cheeks flush pink. He opens his mouth to protest, but Nick quickly cuts him off.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Just one of my best friends, dude. You have my blessing. I know she would love to date a hockey player.”

“Yeah? Good to know.” Nate smirks.

“On that note, we’re going back to drinking now. Just wanted to humble brag real quick.” She flashes a toothy grin. “I’ll make them get dinner next time they’re in Tampa. Maybe you and the whole crew can come along.”

“Yes, totally! Have fun! Merry Christmas!” She wishes him a Merry Christmas back, and she’s ending the call, she hears Nick muttering to Garrett: ‘yes that was Sidney fucking Crosby’. She drops her phone down onto the table then, glancing over at Nate expectantly.

“So that’s Nick, my not boyfriend. He’s a big Lightning fan, and he hates the Penguins.”

“Charming,” Sid laughs. “Seems nice though.”

“Nick’s the best,” she agrees. “He and Danielle get me through living in Florida.”

“Ah, so you do admit Florida sucks?” Nate presses. He offers her another drink, and she nods eagerly. When her glass is full, he raises his to her. “Fuck Florida.” She taps hers against his, smiling widely.

“Fuck Florida, indeed.”

___

Another hour slips by as the three of them sit in the kitchen. The rest of Nate’s house is quiet, save for the inevitable hockey talk they’ve slipped into. Nate’s sobered during their time sitting there, his attention focused mostly on her and her half hearted responses. Poor girl is exhausted.

“Time for me to head out,” Sidney mutters. He pushes his chair back from the table, clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Uber’s outside. Thanks for having me, Nate. Nice catching up with you.”

“Bye Sid!” she brightens up, waving her fingers as he giggles and heads out the door. “Then there were two.”

“Sure I can’t interest you in some food?” Nate offers.

She shakes her head adamantly, eyes glossy, head swimming. “No, I told you... no room for food.” She rests her arms on the table, dropping her head down on top of them and peering up at Nate curiously.

He chuckles, resting a hand on her elbow. “Okay, time to get you home.”

She pulls a face, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Naaaate,” she draws out, “no.”

“Come on,” he laughs. “I’ll even tuck you in.”

She narrows her eyes at him, still frowning, “you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He offers her his hand as he stands, helping her to her feet as soon as she agrees. He hooks her arm through his when she sways, trying to keep her steady on her feet. “I’ve got you.”

It takes some maneuvering, and a lot of patience on Nate’s part, but eventually, he’s able to get her into the front seat of his truck. He buckles her seatbelt for her when he slides behind the wheel, starting the car as she starts complaining about how uncomfortable his seats are.

“Good thing your parents live less than three minutes from here, huh?” He teases. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her head slumped back against the headrest.

She’s quiet for a long time, and he has to tear his eyes from the road to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. When he does, he catches her gaze. “Nathan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles.

“You don-“

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, Nathan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I walked out I just- fuck, I didn’t want to be a WAG. I didn’t want hockey above all else, always. It wasn’t fair for me to do that.”

He’s quiet, hand gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Well, it wasn’t fair of me to make you feel like that would be your reality.” He hesitates, taking a slow, deep breath. After a moment, he nods to himself. “We can call it even.”

He offers her a shy smile, and she can’t stop herself from returning it. She unhooks her seatbelt and slides closer to him on the bench, resting her head against his shoulder. “Deal. Thank you, Mack.”

___

When they arrive at her parents’ house, Nate kills the engine and lets out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” She groans, but sits up straight.

“Fine,” she grumbles. She pushes the door open hastily, climbing out and crosses her arms over her chest. Nate simply shakes his head, taking her arm again and leading her up the pathway carefully. He knows it’s icy, and the last thing they need is the both of them to eat shit.

As soon as they reach the front door, Nate shushes her, trying to remain as quiet as possible while he pulls out the spare key from beneath the mat. He’s done this countless times before, and truly, it never gets any easier.

“Mack, remember when you tried to sneak me in drunk right before you left for juniors?” She laughs. She just giggles even louder when he presses a finger to his lips, eyes pleading. “You always take care of me.”

“I know, shhhh. I always will. We’ve gotta get inside.” Moments later, Nate gets the door open, tugging her across the threshold. He pulls the door shut as quietly as possible before glancing up, spotting her parents in the living room, sitting on couches reading. “Hi guys,” he sighs.

“Nate,” her mom smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Sorry about this.. She was drinking with Sid and I didn’t want her driving-“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she whines. “I’m perfectly fine, Nathan.”

Her dad gives him a knowing look, chuckling. “Thanks, son.”

“Lucky to have you around, Nate,” her mom adds. “You know the way.”

He nods, tugging on her arm to lead her up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. She grumbles the entire way, complaining about being “too tired to see” or “everything’s spinning, I’m going to die”. Nate can’t contain his laughter, which only seems to frustrate her more. She glares at him when she finally gets the door to her room open, kicking her shoes off by the door and flopping down onto her bed in a huff. “Who let me drink me so much,” she groans.

“That would be Sid,” Nate leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s an enabler.” She lifts her head up, peering at him thoughtfully. “I was afraid to talk to you tonight,” she admits. “And he supported my stupidity to try to make me feel better. At least his heart is in the right place.”

Nate’s brown furrows. “Why would you be afraid to talk to me?”

She pushes herself up into a seated position, crossing her legs underneath her. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now.” Her voice is low, eyes cast downward. “I don’t know what we have in common anymore, or if you’d even want to talk to me.”

“Hey,” Nate says, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the room. Two strides bring him over to the bed, and he sits beside her, craning his neck down to catch her eye. “I asked you to come over because I did want to talk to you. Do.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why but I never expected to run into you, and when I did, all I could think about was reconnecting and... I don’t know, being friendly again? There’s a pretty big you shaped hole in my life.”

She looks at him, eyes sweeping over every last detail of his face. She wants to blame the alcohol for how attractive she finds him in that moment, but she knows she can’t. Nate has always been gorgeous, and their time growing, apart, has only increased that. “I’ve got a big Nate Mack hole too,” she admits.

Without wavering, he reaches out and rests his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. “Tomorrow, then. I’m coming by with breakfast and we’re gonna play pond puck.”

She can’t help the groan that falls from her lips. “I’m going to be far too hungover to be on skates tomorrow.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you drank half a bottle of Jack,” he grins. “Night.”

___

True to his word, Nate does come by first thing in the morning. She crawls out of bed at the sound of laughter down the stairs, wincing when the light hits her eyes. She manages to pull herself together to look somewhat presentable, though her headache is enough to have her debating hiding under the covers for the day.

“Oh, look who’s up!” Her dad teases. He’s sitting opposite Nate at the kitchen table, reading the paper like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Nate laughs. “I brought Timmies.”

“Black?” She mutters, reaching for the cup gratefully. He nods. “Not iced, but I guess I’ll live. Thanks.”

Nate rolls his eyes, bringing his own cup to his lips and taking a long drink. “We gotta get you out of America. Not iced, pft,” he scoffs.

“Nate’s got a point, kid. You’re barely a Canadian anymore.”

She gives him a pointed look. “I didn’t hear you and mom complaining in Florida in January last year.”

Her dad grins. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles.

“You hungry at all?” Nate asks.

“Just coffee for me,” she raises her cup to him.

“Alright. Should we get going then?”

“A heroic return to my pond puck career,” she jokes. “Should be great with this hangover.”

Her dad laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Don’t let her fall through the ice, Nate.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He flashes a winning smile as he gestures for her to head out the door in front of him. “Your dad was thrilled to help me find your old skates in the garage this morning,” he tells her as they climb into his truck.

She rests her head against the cold window, eyes shut. “Of course he was.”

“It was nice to see them again,” he says quietly. “I always really liked your parents.”

“Good thing, they love you.” And it’s completely true. To this day, her mother still asks her about Nate. What’s he up to, if he’s seeing anyone... it would be sweet if it wasn’t so painful for her to have to relive every time she brings it up. Her dad is thankfully more subtle- they really only talk about Nate when hockey comes up. Of course they both keep tabs on the Avs, and it’s a common ground that is far more exhaustive than her job that her dad doesn’t really understand anyway. All in all, yes, her parents do love Nate, which made their break up that much harder.

Nate doesn’t respond; her words linger in the air like a bad perfume. There’s a kind of expectation to them, a dare to explore what that means and how it makes either of them feel. Thankfully, Nate pulls his truck off the road before they have to broach the subject. Just ahead of them, there’s a frozen pond, a couple of trash cans tipped over on either side to use as makeshift goals. It’s the same pond they’d played on as kids, hours spent skating and laughing together. It brings back a melancholic feeling, one that seems to sit in her chest when she follows Nate’s lead and climbs out of the car. He hands her her skates and a stick when they start walking, eyes focused on the snow beneath their feet.

She laces up her skates silently, glancing over at Nate every so often. He looks like he wants to say something, but just isn’t sure where to begin. She tries no to dwell on it, and instead let herself have a good time today. It’s been a long time since she’s had the chance to skate.

She uses the stick Nate handed her to help stand and steps out onto the ice, skates wobbling as she tries to get her bearings.

“Looking a little rusty there, Gretz,” Nate teases.

“Oh shut up,” she groans. It takes her a minute, but before long, she finds her comfort on skates again. It’s second nature, something she knows she will never forget how to do. “It’s just been a while.”

“Nowhere to skate in the sunshine state, eh?” He skates around her in a circle, turning around and skating backwards so he can face her. “What could possibly make you want to stay there?”

She gives a half shrug. “My life is there.”

Nate nods. “Right. Your job, your not boyfriend...” The smile on his face suggests he’s kidding, but she can see something behind his eyes.

“Nate...” there’s a warning in her voice.

He holds a hand up in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just... what do you?”

“I’m a counselor,” she tells him. She chuckles when he purses his lips, clearly having no idea what that entails. “It’s supposed to be a mental health professional in the schools - someone to help students short term, refer out for bigger issues, teach social emotional skills. I’m just a glorified secretary at this point.”

He narrows his eyes, considering her. “I don’t believe that. You’re too good.”

She lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s true. Nothing I do actually helps anyone, and the one girl I did have a good relationship with, I was too busy to help this year. So she’ll never come back to talk to me now. I’m always a month behind and I don’t know-“ she lets her voice trail off, feeling her eyes sting as they fill with tears. It never hits her like this until she says it out loud, but it’s so alarming to lose your passion. She’s content, but she’s not happy, and it’s hard to feel like she didn’t make a huge mistake with her choices in life.

Nate stops suddenly, causing her to slam right into him. He reaches out and grabs her shoulders, keeping her upright. “Hey,” he coos, “I’m sure she’ll come back to talk to you. This year is unlike anything anyone has ever seen. I’m sure a lot of this is stress.”

This seems to open the flood gates, and against her better judgment, she feels hot tears start streaming down her cheeks. It only makes her cheeks more cold, and she curses under her breath. “I think I messed up, Nate. Florida, counseling, what if it was all a mistake?” She shakes her head, dropping it down to stare at their feet.

Nate reaches out, tilting her chin up with one finger. “Then you make a change. Find out how to be happy again, and go after it.” His hand slides up to cup her cheek, warm fingers wiping away her tears. “You’re incredible. If you made a mistake, that’s fine. Regroup, move past it.”

Her breath hitches, eyes locking with his. She can feel a smile tugging at her lips, her heart warming at his words. It’s an incredible feeling to be validated like this, to know her concerns aren’t ridiculous and she’s not an utter failure for rethinking every decision that’s brought her to this point. It’s tenfold now, standing so close to Nate, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Nate, I-“

“I believe in second chances,” he tells her. His voice is barely above a whisper now, the rasp sending a tingle up her spine. She can hear the unspoken words behind it, I believe in you, and I believe in us. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but with the way he’s looking at her right now, it’s hard to take it any other way. Maybe she could let herself do this - love again, put her faith in him.

There’s nothing she wants more than to be able to give in, melt into his arms and tell him it was all wrong, but they can fix it now. With his bright blue eyes shining the way they are, she even lets part of herself believe that.

It’s the other, realistic part of her that holds her back. The what ifs and rational thinking of distance and time zones and years past rearing their ugly head. The fear of getting hurt again, or hurting him. There’s just too much to consider, too many sacrifices to ask of any one person.

“I want to believe in them too,” she admits. “But-”

Her eyes tell him everything she’s too afraid to. He inhales sharply, nodding once. “I understand. I won’t push you.” His fingertips brush across her cheeks gently before he drops his hand to his side. A sad sigh falls past his lips, and before he can move to skate away, she’s grabbing his forearm and gripping it tightly.

“We’ll play for it,” she blurts, mostly in an attempt to keep him from walking away.

Nate’s eyes snap up. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll play each other. Pond puck. And I’ll be yours for the weekend.”

“If who wins?”

“Either of us.” Her hesitance is clear as day on her face, the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Maybe she’s being ridiculous, childlike even, but this is the only way she can give her heart what it wants without giving up her entire life. Albeit how appealing that road looks at the moment.

Gaze narrowing, he purses his lips in consideration. “You’re saying no strings?”

She nods, “I’m saying I won’t ask you to wait for me, if you don’t ask me to stay.”

“So a one night stand?”

Her head shakes slowly, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “No. I want the weekend with you in our own little bubble. I want to ignore reality and just… be.”

“I think we need terms for this,” Nate says. “What’s off limits, what isn’t.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “What you’re comfortable with.”

“If you win, big if, I’m yours for the weekend. You can call the shots; anything you want to do. Fair?” When she agrees, he cracks a small smile. “Great. When I win, you’re mine for the weekend. I’ll call the shots.”

“Sounds reasonable-”

“One more thing,” he cuts in. “You can’t break my heart.”

His words hang heavy between them, shifting the atmosphere. This feels like a contingency meant for more than just the weekend. It makes her chest ache to think about it, but Nate’s speaking again before she can get a word in edgewise. “Alright,” he pulls a puck out of his back pocket, holding it out between them. “First to three, yeah?”

He’s courteous enough to wait for her to get her bearings, both hands on her stick, knees bent, before he drops the puck between them. He taps it a few times with his stick, moving in slow circles. He pauses when they’re face to face again, leaning forward. “I’ll let you have first go.”

“Don’t go easy on me, Dogg,” she teases. “I’m tough. I can take it.” She mirrors his stance, leaning over the puck with her hands spread wide on the stick.

“Game on, babe.” She sweeps her stick over his, cursing under breath when he swipes the puck away from her. He carries it on his stick across the ice, avoiding her attempted checks and steals as he goes. Eventually, she abandons that tactic, instead racing ahead of him and turning to defend the “goal”. She keeps her stick down, watching his eyes to try to read his play. He fakes left, moves right, stopping on a dime as he throws ice across her shins. She blinks and the puck is slamming around in the can, Nate throwing his arms in celebration.

“One down,” he gloats.

She rolls her eyes, flicking the puck out at him. It skids to a stop in front of his skates, and she heads back to center ice, knowing he won’t be far behind. By some miracle, she’s able to gain possession of the puck in the faceoff, doing her best to get a jump on him and head down the ice. In an instant, he’s right behind her, stick held out in front of her, attempting to poke check it away. When she shifts, Nate checks into her from the side, nearly sending her tumbling on the ice. “Okay Mr. Lady Byng,” she laughs.

Nate simply grins at her, taking off after the puck and keeping it a distance away from her ahead of him. Effortlessly, he sends the puck sailing into the trash can, turning around to face her with an even cockier grin. “Not looking too good for you.”

“You’re a cheater,” she mumbles, retrieving the puck and gliding over to center ice. She keeps it in her hand as Nate eyes her, his gaze dragging slowly from her skates to the top of her head. “What?”

He shakes his head, jutting his chin out. “I don’t cheat.” He hunches over his stick, waiting for her to crouch into the same position and drop the puck. The intensity that emanates from him is palpable, his bated breath, clenched teeth only adding to the stakes. When the puck falls from her hand, it’s like time slows down. There’s a frigid breeze across her cheeks, blowing her hair back over her shoulders - the puck clattering against the ice once, twice, before it’s flat and they’re both springing into action. Their sticks collide as they sweep them, neither making contact with the puck at first.

It’s Nate who comes up victorious from the faceoff, stickhandling it until he’s able to turn his back to her. She knows he’s far too advanced for her to out play - his skills are unmatched, so she opts for playing a little dirty, using her own skills to her advantage. When Nate fakes and moves left, she positions herself there, right in front of him. All the air whooshes out of her as they collide, his shoulder pressed against her chest. The startled expression on his face makes her crack a grin, and he’s distracted enough by the move to let her gain possession. Once it’s on her stick, she takes off down the ice in the other direction, keeping the puck out in front of her. She can feel Nate hot on her tail, attempting to swat the puck free, knock her off balance. Her eyes stay fixed to the trash can, and she doesn’t hesitate - just slaps the puck as hard as she can. The bang that rings out echoes through the quiet, and she glances over her shoulder, flashing Nate a triumphant smile.

“Two-one now,” she points out. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to boast about, but it very clearly pushes Nate’s buttons. She’s never known a single person to be more competitive, and it’s admittedly fun to draw that side out of him every now and again.

She can tell she’s struck the nerve when Nate gets huffy, his nostrils flaring as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just get ready for the faceoff.” He reaches down to scoop the puck out of the can, quickly following her back to center ice and watching her get situated. Seconds pass in silence until they’re both ready, and Nate drops the puck.

It’s a hard-fought battle from the moment the puck hits the ice. Nate jumps into action, immediately getting his blade down, trying to gain control. But she doesn’t concede to him as easily this time. She bends her knees a little further, using her body to shove against his side, trying to throw him off. When he chances a look at her, she swats at the puck, nearly situating it on her own stick. Nate chuckles, shifts his weight to his other foot, and steals the puck back. The movement throws her a little off balance, and she reaches out for him on instinct, hand gripping the fabric covering his shoulder tightly. She tugs at it to keep herself upright, ignoring his half hearted scoff when it knocks him away from the puck slightly. Within seconds he rights himself, tearing down the ice toward the goal. He’s impossibly fast, and she knows there’s no catching up to him, so the resounding “clang” of the puck hitting the metal comes as no surprise.

When she lifts her gaze, she immediately spots a grinning Nate skating over to her. The corners of his eyes crinkle in delight. “That’s game,” he breathes as he skids to a stop, throwing snow across her shins. Breath hitching as she draws her eyes up to his face, she notices Nate is so close. Closer than he’s been to her in years, and heart is pounding in her chest. With a clatter, he drops his stick to the ice, tossing his gloves down beside it. Now bare-handed, he reaches up, brushing her hair back off her shoulder. The cold air bites against the skin of her cheek for just a moment before his hand is there, big and warm and so soft. “I call the shots, right?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but her eyes are zeroed in on his lips. His tongue flicks out to wet them after a brief nod of her head, and something in her brain short circuits. Drawing in a shaky breath, she holds it as Nate leans in, lips brushing against hers gently, tentative. On their own accord, her hands are flying up to grip his shoulders, her legs suddenly weak.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it’s started, and it leaves her breathless, eyes blinking open slowly. All she can focus on is the small smile that appears on Nate’s lips, and the deep blue of his eyes.

“Do you have plans later?” Nate mutters.

“No.”

There’s that blinding grin again. “Good.” He leans in, pressing a soft little kiss to the side of her mouth, barely inches from her parted lips. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

___

“Where are we going Nate?” She asks, eyes narrowed. They’re sitting side by side in his truck, driving mostly in silence to their unknown destination. His earlier text was cryptic, merely telling her to dress warmly with a smiley emoji. It’s out of character for him, but mostly she’s surprised he seems to want to be spending time outside. In December. In Canada. Sure it’s been warmer than in past years, but when the sun drops, they’re lucky to be breaking twenty degrees Fahrenheit.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. A small smirk dances across his lips, eyes seeming to sparkle with mischief. He knows how much she hates not knowing, but she understands he’s trying to do something fun too. So she sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shifting her focus to the road in front of them. “You’ll like it,” he promises. There’s the tiniest hint of uncertainty there, a hesitation that tells her he’s just as nervous and confused about everything as she is. Do they know what the other likes anymore? How much has changed?

“I’m sure I will,” she insists.

They drive in comfortable silence, the low hum of Nate’s truck the only sound filling the air. When she chances a glance at him, she’s met with his calm expression, the familiar curve of his nose, his pursed lips. His concentration is clear as day, and she can’t quite place why it’s so endearing.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. He drives about twenty feet more before he’s pulling off the main road. Immediately, they’re both bouncing on their seats, the uneven terrain jerking them back and forth. Just as she opens her mouth to ask him what’s happening, Nate puts the car in park and kills the engine. Wordlessly, he opens his door, stepping around the truck quickly to pull hers open for her. He holds a hand out to her to help her step down, and keeps a firm hold on it when she’s safely on the ground.

“Nate?” She says finally, head cocked in confusion. They’re parked in the middle of an open field, nothing but trees and the setting sun around them. It’ll be dark soon, and she’s not exactly sure what she should be expecting. “What-“

“Trust me,” he cuts in. He smiles at her when she nods, then leads her toward the back of his truck. He lowers the tailgate with his free hand, then reaches for a handle on the cover. His grip finally drops as he clicks the handle into place and walks the cover back toward the cab. Inside it, pillows and blankets cover the bed of the truck, a Yeti cooler stashed into the corner. When she catches his eye again, he’s sheepish, a bashful smile on his face. “I thought it’d be nice to just sit under the stars for a while.”

“Nathan…” it comes out in a sigh, and she’s thankful for the darkening sky that’s hiding her growing smile. She knows it’ll instantly give away how smitten she is, and that’s a conversation she’s not quite ready to have yet.

“Is it okay?” The hesitation in his voice has her jumping to reassure him.

“Yes, yes it’s perfect,” she rushes.

He dips his chin in a nod. “Let’s get you up then.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, or really even process his comment before he steps over to her, lifting her easily around the waist and hoisting her up. As soon as her feet are planted in his truck, he gives her a little nudge forward, and climbs in after her. “Sit, make yourself comfortable,” he insists. He busies himself pulling out a flashlight, flicking it on and sitting it in the middle of the truck bed. Next, he’s grabbing food out of his cooler, placing them gingerly beside the flashlight. She merely watches in awe as item after item is taken out: plates, forks, glasses, crackers, cheese, wine, fruits. He’d thought of everything.

“It’s not a meal,” he reasons, “but I figured it’s better than nothing.” He produces a corkscrew from his pocket, then sets in on getting the wine bottle open.

“Nate, it’s wonderful,” she insists. She takes the stemless wine glass as he hands it to her, smiling softly. “Though I’m a little surprised to see you willingly eating carbs and drinking alcohol.” She cracks a grin when he rolls his eyes, making a show of bringing his glass up and taking a large gulp.

“Et tu?” Nate groans, dragging his free hand through his hair.

“I’m just messing with you.”

“You’ve read all the articles, then? Keeping tabs on me?” He lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nathan.” Her expression is hard, a no nonsense frown on her face. “You do not disappoint anyone.”

He sighs, and passes her a plate of various snacks, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I don’t know how true that is.”

“I do. You’re being hard on yourself.”

He considers for a moment, shrugging. “Maybe. But I need to be. It keeps me disciplined.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes before popping a cut piece of fruit into her mouth. “I don’t think you need help in that department.”

“I started seeing a sports psychologist,” he mumbles. It catches her off guard, his admission, but it fills her with pride all the same. The Nate she knew before never would’ve taken that step, and he certainly wouldn’t have told anyone about it. That’s growth.

“How’s that been?”

“I like it. Kinda helps me take a step back from things and visualize what I want and how to get there.” He hesitates, opening his mouth before closing it quickly.

“Sounds like there’s a but there?”

“But I don’t know that it's enough.”

“In what way? Like you need more help with your mental health?”

He scrunches his nose. “No, I guess with hockey and stuff. It just-“ he cuts himself off with a sigh. “It feels like I’ve put in the work, and have gotten no results.”

“Because you haven’t won shit?” She offers. She cracks a grin when Nate looks up at her, expression blank. This only serves to make her giggle, and as much as she wants to blame it on the wine, she knows it’s the way Nate shakes his head and cracks a grin right alongside her.

“I haven’t won shit,” he agrees.

“You will.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

She brings her glass up, polishing off the rest of her drink and then sets the glass down. Hesitantly, she scoots forward a bit more, until her knees bump against his. His eyes draw up to hers slowly, the icy blue stealing the breath from her lungs. “Because I know you, Nathan. And you were born to do this.”

“It’s really not feeling like it these days.” There’s so much defeat in his voice it makes her chest tighten. On a whim, she reaches over and takes his hand, rubbing her thumb over his wrist slowly. “Feels more like I can’t do anything right.”

She wants desperately to reassure him, tell him his mind is wrong and playing tricks on him but she knows that isn’t what he needs. He has to navigate this himself. She can offer him support, but this is something he has to figure out on his own.

“I went first overall, I should be doing more for the team. It’s just been first or second round exits year after year. I can’t get us out of this hole.”

“It isn’t only up to you,” she reminds him. “If you feel you’re not playing up to your standards that’s one thing, but you can’t play every position. It’s not fair to entirely blame yourself.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Maybe I made a mistake with all of this.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing. “With hockey?”

He nods. “Hockey, life. I don’t know. What if I chose wrong?”

“Well, you’re preaching to the choir on that bud,” she says. She hesitates a moment, gathering herself. “For what it’s worth, I know you didn’t choose wrong. Things have been a bit bleak, sure, but you are far too talented to not share that gift with the world.”

Nate’s gaze catches hers, and she feels a shiver travel up her spine. When concern floods his features, she knows he’s felt it too. “You cold? C’mere.” He gives her no time to respond, just leans himself back against the pillows and reaches for a blanket. Once it’s situated over him, he pulls her in close against his side until her cheek is against his chest and his arm is around her back. The blanket gets tugged up to cover her too, and they lay together, cocooned in the blankets under the stars.

“Better?” Nate rasps, and truly, yes. This has made things better. Being so close to him, warm and safe - this is the first time she’s been able to take a deep breath in a long time. But she can’t admit that to him. So she gives a soft murmur in agreement and shuts her eyes to commit this moment to memory.

“I’m proud of you Nate,” she says eventually. “I know that doesn’t really help with all this, but I’m not the only one, ya know? We’re all rooting for you.” She tilts her head up, staring straight into his eyes. It makes her lose her breath, especially when he gives her a small smile.

“I appreciate how much you believe in me,” he whispers. “It does help.” He draws his fingers up slowly, tickling them against the exposed skin where her sweatshirt has ridden up. It forms goosebumps immediately, and she cuddles in even closer, out of instinct. “Being here has been like coming up for air.” He sighs, eyes softening even further. “And seeing you-“

“Nate-“

“Don’t,” he rushes. “We have an agreement, right? You’re mine for the weekend?” The hopeful expression on his face guts her, but she nods. She is. For the weekend.

“Yes,” she agrees. She tilts her chin up far enough for her nose to bump against his jaw, nuzzling it. “I don’t wanna think about after.”

“Then don’t.” He cranes his neck further, until their breath mixes. “Just be here with me.” Gently, so gently, he kisses her. It’s just a tentative brush at first, but it sets her body on fire. Within seconds, she’s hauling herself even closer to him, dropping her body over his as she deepens the kiss. She feels Nate’s big hands come up to grip her hips, keeping her close.

It’s not desperate and frenzied, but it still has her heart racing. The sweep of his tongue across the seam of her lips has her sighing, melting into him. It’s comfortable, warm and familiar, like coming home. She knows she can’t dwell on that thought, so she pours everything she can into Nate instead. Kisses him breathless, then comes back for more.

When Nate breaks away, he lets his head fall back to the pillows, a tiny grin on his face. “I’ve missed this, babe. Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nate.” She admits, to herself just as much as she does him. It feels monumental to do so, but she lets herself have this moment; snuggles closer into Nate’s arms and kisses his neck. They have the weekend, and she’s not going to ruin that.

~

Reality starts to feel a bit distorted after laying with Nate in his truck. In a way, it feels like they’re existing inside a bubble - one that gives them a taste of the road not taken. It’s addicting, with the potential to be heart wrenchingly painful if she’s not careful. But part of her knew she’d end up here. Her and Nate had been so strong before fear crept into her mind. The problem now is figuring out how, if at all, this influences her real life that she’ll be getting back to sooner rather than later.

And Nate, bless his heart, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make this as hard as possible for her. He’d taken the “I call the shots” agreement to heart, planning the entire next day for them to spend together. He arrives at her house thankfully much later in the morning than the day prior, with iced Timmy’s in tow. He leaves a dozen doughnuts and two extra coffees on the counter for her parents, flashing that heart melting smile when she insists he didn’t have to go to the trouble.

“It’s no trouble,” he insists as they’re climbing into his truck. He immediately reaches to crank the heat for her, tugging his seatbelt across his body.

“Well thank you,” she says. “What’s on the docket today?”

He eases the truck out onto the road, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. Only when they’re settled into the lane does Nate glance over at her. “Thought we’d drive down to Peggy’s Cove. Walk around a little bit. See the lighthouse?”

Her face lights up at the mere mention. Peggy’s Cove is about an hour from Cole Harbour, and it’s always been one of her favorite day trips. There’s something so wonderfully calming about the shoreline, at any time of year. “Sounds good to me,” she says.

She’s pleased to find how at ease she feels beside Nate on the drive down. They happily flick through radio stations, singing along completely off key. Her cheeks start to hurt from the wide smile she can’t seem to wipe off her face, all thanks to Nate. And god, what a thought that is. She’d certainly never entertained the idea of meeting up with Nate at home, nor did she think she’d find herself riding around in his truck. It feels like an alternate reality and surprisingly, the thought doesn’t put a damper on her mood. It just makes her enjoy it all the more.

Before long, Nate is pulling into a deserted parking lot along the shore. He kills the engine then looks over at her, smiling softly. “Shall we?” When she nods, Nate climbs out of the truck and races around to grab her door for her.

It’s a stunningly beautiful day, but it's freezing, even bundled up against the cold. Despite her tightly wound scarf the wind nips her cheeks harshly as soon as she closes his door. In front of them, waves are crashing against the covered rocks, a soothing symphony filling the air. There's chunks of ice floating in the water, and she shakes her head at just how picture-esque it all is. A rare blue sky day in late December, the sun breaking through the small clouds, its rays reflecting off the snow on the rocks.

Nate turns to her, offering his hand and she takes it without hesitation. His gloved fingers wrap firmly around hers, and they start to slowly walk toward, squinting to see.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” she admits. “I don’t know how I forgot how beautiful it is.”

“I’ve always loved it here,” Nate says. She glances at him, sees his pink cheeks, his hair blowing in every direction. It makes something in her chest tighten, and she squeezes his hand a little tighter. They make their way closer to the lighthouse silently, simply taking it all in.

As they approach the darker rocks, Nate stops suddenly, tugging her into him. His arms go around her shoulders, keeping her close. “This okay?” He whispers.

“Yes,” she breathes. More than okay, she wants to say. It’s touching really, that he’d drive all this way just to stand there with her and stare at a lighthouse. It’s reminiscent of the early days in their relationship, before the drama and the uncertainty, when all they needed was to be together. “Thanks for bringing me Nate.”

He hums, his cheek pressing against the side of her head. “Thanks for wanting to be here.”

She can feel that his words have a much deeper meaning behind them, though she chooses to take them at face value. It's clear they’re going to continue to dance around the obvious, even if it’s rehashing something they’d already settled on. It’s just for the weekend; there’s no realistic way it could be more and they can’t put that kind of pressure on each other. But even though all of this is true, it doesn’t change the way being with him makes her feel. It doesn’t take the warmth out of his smile, or the fondness from his eyes. So maybe she is breaking her own heart here, but what other choice does she have?

***

She and Nate spend much of their day wandering through the small fishing village. They stroll down the boardwalk, through small boutiques and touristy souvenir shops. Nate happily walks through every single open door, stopping to sign an autograph or take a photo every now and then when they happen upon another person. He has no qualms about waiting for her to browse in the bookshop, instead spending his time posted up on a comfortable chair, petting the store cat with a smile on his face.

After a late lunch at the only restaurant in town, they get back on the road, headed for Cole Harbour. Conversation in the car is light and casual, both just catching the other up on life’s nuances they haven’t been privy to in years. It’s more than just work: it’s the song that made Nate cry because it reminded him of leaving for the US when he was just a child, it’s the countless seafood meals she’s turned down in her adult life because nothing can compare to the luxuries of home. The conversation never lulls, though it does veer significantly off course when they spot the ‘welcome to Cole Harbour’ sign approaching in the distance.

“Nate, pull over!” She insists. She’s digging through her bag, ignoring his request for an explanation. After a few seconds, she emerges victorious, holding up a black marker and a piece of paper. She smoothes it out as best she can on his dashboard, then unhooks her seatbelt. “Do you have any tape?”

“What do you need tape for?” Nate asks. He earns himself a pointed look, one that says ‘don’t ask questions’. He sighs, then flips open the center console. “I think I have some stick tape lying around…”

While he tracks that down, she gets to work writing, keeping her arm strategically placed so he can’t glance over her shoulder to sneak a peek. Just a few seconds later, he’s setting the tape down next to her hand and looking at her expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she grins. She picks up her sign and the tape, opens the door to his truck and hops down onto the road. It's not very busy, thankfully, but Nate is immediately concerned all the same.

He calls out her name, quickly following after her as she walks. “You can’t just get out of the car on a main road and walk away,” he insists, but she’s not listening to him. She’s still making her way forward, toward the welcome sign and the townline. Once she’s standing in front of it, he watches as she pulls up the tape, ripping it with her teeth. The piece of paper is held against the welcome sign, then secured with tape, and she steps back with a satisfied smile on her face. The writing doesn’t become clear until Nate is standing beside her, and once it does, he bursts into laughter.

Attached to the bottom of the sign, where it reads ‘Home of Sidney Crosby’, she’d taped up her own: “and Nathan MacKinnnon”.

“I’ll have to get a proper one commissioned, but I thought this would do for now,” she grins. As she locks eyes with Nate, she feels her heart start racing. He seems happy, but she doesn’t want to assume he’s not just saving face and she’s made him uncomfortable.

Wordlessly, he closes the space between them, gathering her into his arms. “You’re just- you’re so wonderful.” He doesn’t give her the time to respond, just leans in and kisses her, hard and long. It sets her world on end, she gasps for air when he pulls away.

“Nate-“

“You wanna come to my place?” He asks against her lips, eyes hooded. A brief nod is all that’s needed to get him moving, guiding her back to his truck and opening the door for her.

___

Her hands are trembling when they pull up to Nate’s house. Nate grins at her, taking her hand over the shifter once he parks. He brings it to his lips and kisses it softly. There’s an unspoken understanding in the air, tension hanging between them. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch her eye. “You alright?”

Her voice is so soft when she speaks that Nate almost misses it. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “It’s been such a long time and I really want this to be good for you-“

Nate cuts in, brow furrowed. “Look at me.” He waits until she draws her eyes up to continue. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’m a little nervous, but please, don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t. I mean, I do want to,” she interjects. “I just- what if it’s not… good?”

He actually snorts when he hears this. He’s under no impression they’ve lost that spark over the years. It’s always been good, and he knows it will continue to be. But the hesitance on her face is suggesting she’s not thinking the same way he is. “It’s going to be incredible,” he insists. “Just like it always was.”

“We were kids, Nate. I’m worried it won’t be.” She takes in a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m worried I won’t be any good.”

He drops her hand, turning in his seat until he’s able to cup both of her cheeks. Then he draws her head up until she’s looking at him again. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, and you’ve been driving me crazy since the day I saw you in the grocery store. I know you’re going to blow my mind.” She hesitates for a moment, but then she’s nodding as best she can with the way he’s holding her. “If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “I’m done waiting.”

This is all the confirmation that Nate needs. He keeps his hands firmly planted on her cheeks and leans in, kissing her hungrily. He slides his tongue into her mouth, groaning when he feels her fingers crawl up to grip his hair tightly. She leans even closer to him, pressing her chest against his, letting him feel every inch of her torso. His eyes are half lidded when he breaks away, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Her eyes blink open, and Nate’s smiling softly at her. His eyes are soft, filled with longing, and her stomach is doing flips. It’s tenfold when he climbs out of the driver’s seat, coming around to take her hand and help her step down. He laces their fingers, leading her up the short pathway and in the front door. They shed their shoes and their cold weather gear there, tossing it unceremoniously toward the built in to the right. They’ll deal with the mess later.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is low, raspy, and she’s shaking her head immediately. She’s of a one track mind now, and it seems that Nate picks up on that. He takes the initiative to walk her up the stairs, straight to his bedroom.

“Can I touch you?” He whispers. He rests his hands on her waist, lingering at the hem of her soft t-shirt. When he sees her nod, it’s up and over her head in a hurry, exposing her smooth skin. Nate’s eyes greedily take in every inch of her chest, and she’s surprised she doesn’t feel the urge to cover herself.

She feels a surge of confidence shoot through her; the way Nate is looking at her fueling her ego. It makes her bold, and she pushes back on his shoulders until he’s stepping backwards, and eventually, falling onto the bed. Then, she climbs into his lap, her hair falling around them like a curtain when she leans down over him. “Are you just going to look?” She asks, and the challenge in her voice ignites something inside Nate.

Before she can blink, she finds herself on her back with Nate crawling over her. He reaches up and tugs off his shirt, smirking at her sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t take much time to gloat, choosing instead to draw her in for another kiss. His hands make quick work of her bra, tossing it across the room carelessly. His lips trail down her chest, mouthing at the supple flesh, and swirling his tongue around her nipples. He revels in the breathy sounds falling from her lips when he bares his teeth.

“Nathan, please touch me,” she whines. She wriggles underneath him, trying to draw him up, get his mouth back on hers.

“Patience, my girl,” he mumbles. He kisses the tip of her nose before he sits back, eyes taking in her form. Her hair is splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed, and pupils blown wide. He slides his fingertips over the red marks he’d left on her breasts, dragging the rough pads down until they’re toying with the waistband of her pants. He glances up at her again, eyebrows lifted to check in, make sure this is still what she wants. He earns himself a frustrated groan and a “come on, Nate”, which he takes as the green light. He slides everything down in one move, leaving her completely bare to him. “God, look at you,” he breathes. He pushes her legs open wider to accommodate the bulk of his shoulders before he drops down onto his stomach. His eyes never leave hers as he leans in close, kissing up her thighs until he’s inches away from her throbbing center.

She tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut to try to regain control of herself. Her body is thrumming with anticipation, desperate for Nate to do anything. After a few seconds, she’s rewarded for her patience. Nate licks a long strip up from her entrance to her clit, chuckling against her when she gasps. Immediately, her hands fly to his hair, fingers gripping tightly. Nate flicks his tongue expertly against her before drawing her clit between his lips and sucking. She feels him ghosting his fingers over her lips, the soft tickle making her toes curl. She lets out a moan, and that’s all it takes to get Nate to dive in. He slips two fingers into her dripping entrance, scissoring against the tight suck of her walls.

“Nathan,” she pants, back arching. He’s nibbling on her clit as he seeks that spot inside of her, pumping his fingers in and out quickly. She cries out when he finds it, and Nate presses down hard, keeping his fingers firmly against it while she thrashes against the bed.

She’s sure her grip on his hair has to be painful at this point, but she’s too far gone to care. All she can focus on is the blinding pleasure Nate is giving her. She can feel that coil tightening inside of her, her body wound so tightly she’ll snap back at any given second. When he sucks on her again, she snaps, trapping his face between her legs as she comes, thighs tightening around his head.

Nate keeps his fingers working inside of her as she starts to come down, her breath slowing, though not entirely coming back to her. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he climbs up to his knees, grinning wickedly. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos.

She’s having a hard time replying to him. She can’t get a sentence out, moans tumbling past her lips whenever she opens her mouth. Nate is prolonging her orgasm, keeping her suspended up on cloud nine as he watches her, eyes hungry. “I’ve imagined this so many times,” he admits. “Over the years, when I’m on the road late at night. I love to picture you wrapped around me instead of my hand, squeezing me so tight. You feel so good around my fingers; I can’t even imagine how you’ll feel around my cock. Will you let me have you? Sink deep inside of you and fuck you open, my girl?”

She cries out again, nodding quickly. She grips his forearm tightly, eyes rolling back. “Please Nate,” she chokes out. “God, please, I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he swears. He leans down and kisses her again, stealing the air from her lungs. He tugs his sweatpants down as best he can with one hand, sighing against her lips when his cock springs free.

Slowly, she draws her eyes up from his cock, enjoying the sight of his clenched stomach muscles, and the strain of his bent forearm. Everything about Nate is absolutely gorgeous. He’s just so big; so wide and cut, and god, he’s going to be the death of her. She grips his shoulders tightly, mouth going dry at the muscles her fingers trace over. She’s trying to commit every moment to memory, the soft pants falling from Nate lips, the way his eyes are nearly black with desire. It’s so different than it had been before, but somehow the same. They’ve both matured so much- confidence emanating off of them now, but that giddiness is still there. That schoolyard crush that makes your heart beat faster and your hands shake. Her head is swimming, with desire, and the disbelief that this is truly happening. That they’d found a way to have this happen again.

She whines when he draws his fingers out of her, the loss leaving her feeling empty, and she clenches around the air. “I’ve got you,” Nate promises her. He reaches over her head to the bedside table and comes back with a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before sliding it down his throbbing cock. Her fingers are still gripping his shoulders tightly, and there’s no way her nails aren’t biting into his skin but Nate doesn’t say a word. He just runs a soothing hand down her torso and grips her hips, holding her still as he lines himself up with her entrance. His eyes are locked with hers as he presses forward, the blunt head of his cock drawing a gasp when he slips inside. He’s so wide; her walls are already straining to accommodate him, the burn of the stretch making her heart pound. Nate takes his time pressing into her, letting her accommodate for his size. As he pushes in, he’s whispering soft reassurances to her, telling her how beautiful she is, and how good she feels.

He grips her waist tightly when he’s fully sheathed, his big hands wrapping around her. “Okay?” He whispers. She can see the strain of holding back on his face, the need to make sure she’s alright before he can let himself go and enjoy this.

“Perfect,” she assures. “Please, Nate.”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods. Slowly, he draws his hips back before snapping himself forward, burying himself even deeper. She’s impossibly tight and wet around him, drawing him in and clinging to him. It doesn’t take long for him to build up a steady rhythm and when he does, he feels like a man possessed. He’s holding her down against the bed, watching as her breasts bounce and her mouth falls open in pleasure. He feels her drag her nails down his back and he groans, driving into her even harder. The force of his hips is pushing her up the bed, leaving her breathless and begging for him.

“I’m so close,” she pants. “Please Nate, touch me.” Her eyes are shining when she looks up at him. He obliges, sliding his right hand down to press his fingers to her clit. Within seconds, she’s coming around him, clamping down on him as she cries out his name. Nate fucks her straight through it, his hips slapping against her ass as he chases his own release.

He kisses her desperately when he feels his body tightening. When her tongue sweeps against his, he’s gone. He drives in and holds himself there as he comes, a grunt falling from his lips. When he’s able to come back into himself, he reaches down, holding onto the condom as he slowly pulls out. He kisses her cheek in apology when she winces, tying the condom off and tossing it into the trash just after. He runs a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing before he stands. He grabs the first hand towel he can find in the on suite bathroom, running it under the tap and bringing it back into her bedroom wordlessly.

She’s still spread out on the bed where he’d left her, her arm thrown up over her eyes as her chest heaves. He drags the towel between her legs, cleaning her up carefully, before the towel too gets tossed to the floor. “You doing okay?” He whispers. He drops down onto the bed beside her, manhandling her body until she’s lying on her side, facing him.

“Wonderful,” she says, and that’s the understatement of the century. “Was, was I okay?”

Nate’s eyes go wide, and he’s nodding immediately. “That was unbelievable. God, the way you feel-” He cuts himself off, dropping his head onto a pillow dramatically. “It’s amazing how good we still are together.” She peers up at him, sees his eyes closed and the small, happy smile on his face. It makes her heart twist in her chest, her throat tightening. Realization hits her like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. None of this is real. He’s not her Nate anymore, and damn it, how is she going to walk away from this?

“I can hear the gears whizzing around in there,” he teases. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

She hesitates, debates deflecting- telling him it’s nothing and avoiding the discussion she knows they should have. They’re adults now, this is the kind of thing they need to discuss, but she’s scared. “Nate,” she sighs, feels tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just-“

“You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.” His voice is low. It isn’t accusatory, it’s just sad, like a punch straight to the stomach. She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Hot tears leak out of the corners of her eyes, pooling on the pillow case.

“It’s feeling pretty broken right now.”

This has her swallowing hard, gathering her courage. “I don’t want to.” It’s barely a whisper. “But I don’t think there’s another choice.”

“Of course there is,” he assures her. “There’s always another choice.”

“Not when it leads right back where we broke in the first place.”

“Don’t think about that. Tell me what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“It does matter,” Nate insists. “What the hell are we doing in this life if we’re not trying to find happiness?” His eyes search her face, drinking in every feature. “What would make you happy?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You. But-“

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. No buts. I would make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”

“It’s not that easy,” she says. “There’s too many variables, and it will lead us right back where we started.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

She sighs. “How can you know that?”

Nate reaches a tentative hand out, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Because we know better. We can make better choices together. I know you don’t want to be a WAG, and I’m not going to put that on you. If you want to stay in Florida, okay. If you want to move to Denver, okay. If you want to move back to Canada, that’s okay too. We’ll make whatever you decide work. I just want you.”

“You… you want that?”

“If it involves you, I want it.” He’s so adamant, speaking with such conviction she can’t entertain any other thought. She scoots closer to him on the bed, molding herself against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I really want this to work, Nate,” she says. “I really, really want that.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I told you, I’m not letting you go again. I mean it.”

[wackulart]

Haha! Philip not wanting to know why Reader wants to be carried like a sack of potatoes, but inevitably going along with it anyway.

If you're up for a Part 2, Philip carries Reader over his shoulder again on a long walk through the local forest. Reader is so excited about being carried again that they kick their legs more this time. Philip intentionally bumps Reader a few times as they go along so he has an excuse to adjust them on his shoulder.

Philip's always got a soft spot for the reader's antics

Part 1

Philip Wittebane x Reader

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

He stared at you with his arms folded as you hung off of his shoulders, that same devious sparkle in your eye.

"Come on, pleeease?" You begged him.

Philip couldn't understand this sudden fascination you had with being carried by him. Especially over his shoulder as if he was a villain capturing royalty to have them locked in a tower. Yet he couldn't deniy you the second time either.

He held your face in his hands. "..Fine."

You cheered and jumped until he took you in his arms, beginning to lift you. For the sake of his back, he surely hoped that this didn't happen every time you were going for a walk. With a groan, a huff and a hop, you were now on his shoulder again.

Immediately, you became giddy with excitement as you two began to travel through the forest together. Maybe it was because of the nostalgia of being carried when you were younger or maybe it was the feeling of weightlessness, but you were having an immense amount of fun in that moment.

So much fun in fact, that you had kicked your feet much harder than you did on your last walk.

One of the faster kicks made Philip stumble off balance a bit before he tried to place you back over his shoulder properly. That didn't stop your legs from going any faster as you patted his back with a hyper giggle.

Philip joined in your laughter while trying to make sure you didn't go tumbling to the ground.

"Calm down!" He laughed as he made you hop on his shoulder so he could place you back in the right position. "You're going to fall down!"

You laughed harder at that. "I'm not worried, you'll catch me if I fall!"

He shook his head, amusement on his face as you two kept going. On this trail, there were much less people around. Philip had only spotted a handful of demons that were probably hiking along recreationally like the two of you.

Well, maybe not like the two of you but other than a raised eyebrow they paid no mind to you both.

Another few kicks and Philip shrugged his shoulder, making you bounce again, deriving more giggles and kicks from you. That made his heart absolutely soar. You were so adorable that it was almost unbelievable. His face heated up so much that he was glad you couldn't see his face right now.

On the way back, there had been a steeper trail and as Philip tried to balance the both of you, he tripped a bit. You both immediately fell to the ground. you landed at his side and you both looked at eachother in silence before laughing your heads off.

You shifted up to lay on Philip's shoulder, leaning into him as he smiled back at you.

With a huff, he brushed some dirt off of your face. "Now we're filthy."

You shrugged and cuddled closer into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders instinctively. He placed a kiss on your forehead and you returned it by kissing his nose.

It wouldn't be too bad to just sit here for a while.

Just you and him.