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thepowerofswayze · 1 day

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college art donaldson !!!

maybe something about him , tashi , reader , and patrick all being in a friend group at while in college. maybe patrick comes down to visit tashi and suggest an idea where they drive down to the beach and rent a beach house for a few days or something. while they’re there tashi and patrick start arguing leaving reader and patrick alone.

change whatever if u need to but js anything with college art , please !!

so i took a million years and definitely wrote too much but. finally. FINALLY. thank you sm for this request, i hope you like it :)

☆

beach trip

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 3.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, NOT beta read lol (but nothing of mine ever is), college era art my love, friends to lovers, art and reader swim in their underwear lol, reader wears a bra, reader likes swimming, first time together, oral sex (reader receiving), p in v sex, safe sex (condom moment), art is a munch

summary: A group beach weekend sounded great- until Tashi and Patrick spent the whole drive bickering and the whole first night moments from pouncing on each other. Looks like you and Art will have to keep each other company.

☆

“Don’t let him scare you, he’s shit at board games. And card games. Just like he’s shit at tennis.”

You just blinked, eyes darting to Patrick to see how he’d react to Tashi’s dig. The nervous laugh to your left let you know Art was just as unsure as you were.

When Patrick had come to visit Tashi and suggested all four of you take a trip to a rental beach house, you knew being in close quarters with the both of them for a full 3 days would be interesting, at the least. You weren’t about to pass up on the beach trip, though- not when Patrick was covering the rent.

What you didn’t know was that they would be argue-flirting the entire way there, and every moment since you’d all arrived. It made sense, though- between Tashi rooming with you, Patrick not having a room since he wasn’t a Stanford student, and his long stretches between visits, they hadn’t had any time alone in a little over 2 months.

Their flirting was always a little angry- little jabs and remarks that would have made you wince if you were the target. For them, it just made the other’s eyes linger on their partner's lips for a little too long.

Patrick licked his lips before he responded. “Do you ever talk about anything else?” He asked, a lazy half smile on his face.

Tashi’s comeback was almost immediate: “Not like you give me anything else to talk about.” She leaned back on her hands, eyes raking over him from top to bottom.

Patrick seemed to enjoy the scrutiny. He leaned forward, that lazy smirk changing into a playful grin. “Yeah? I got something I could give you right now.”

Alright. That was your sign to go.

When you turned to Art, brows raised, he was already looking at you. You glanced from him to the door and back. You knew Patrick and Tashi would be on each other any second now, whether you two left or not, and you really didn’t want to get caught up in it.

Art nodded.

Your “I think I’m gonna call it a night” and Art’s “Uh, me too” fell on deaf ears as you two scrambled out of the room. Art had barely shut the door behind himself before you could hear those two pounce on each other, the board game you’d been playing definitely scattered and forgotten.

It made you snicker, like a middle school boy. One glance at Art and he was laughing too, a hand over his mouth, his red stanford baseball cap the only thing keeping his hair from falling into his eyes as he shook.

More noises from the room- a crash, then the dull thud of something falling to the carpet. You winced through your grin, then made your way down the hall toward the front porch, beckoning Art to follow you.

Outside, you placed your arms on the railing, leaning entirely on the rickety wood. In the cool night air, you couldn’t hear your roommate and her boyfriend getting it on like animals. You didn’t blame them, even if the angry flirting style wasn’t for you. If you had a partner who was always away, you knew you’d jump on them the moment they were in sight.

You glanced over as Art joined you, mimicking your posture. You knew there was a point, early freshman year, when he’d liked Tashi. It was hard to ignore how his smile dropped when he’d watch Patrick and Tashi reunite, thinking no one was watching. And you always recognized how lost he looked when he stared at her while the three of you had lunch- after all, you looked at him the same way.

Recently, though- over the year and a half you’d known the three of them- he was easing up on it. His smiles lingered long after he thought everyone had looked away. He didn’t even notice when Tashi walked into the cafeteria until you waved her down to sit with you guys. And now, next to you, he was grinning at their antics instead of grimacing.

He seemed to be over it. If only you could be so lucky.

“Like… animals,” Art said, glancing over at you. You were caught so off guard, you didn’t even remember to pretend you hadn’t been staring.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” You laughed, grinning. “They definitely needed that. Did you hear them in the back of the car on the way down here?”

Art groaned. “Oh my god, I thought they were gonna go at it right there.” He brought his voice an octave higher, lifting his chin in an imitation of Tashi that could’ve also passed for royalty- what was the difference, really. “‘You eat like shit. No wonder you play the same.’”

Immediately, you dropped your voice, giving him a coy side smirk and raising one eyebrow. “‘I’ll tell you what I’d rather eat.’”

The two of you doubled over, howling in laughter. Then, another crash from inside. Escaping them was going to be harder than you thought.

“You wanna head down to the water?” Art asked.

“Sure,” you said, smiling wide when he gave you a mock bow and let you lead the way.

The roar of the waves was comforting as you got closer, sand covering your bare feet- neither of you remembered to grab shoes- and the salty air filling your nose. The walk was silent, and the few minutes you spent standing at the edge of the ocean was, too. You watched it reach out toward you, then retreat back into the glittering blue-black. At some point, you closed your eyes.

“I’ve never swam in the ocean.”

Your eyes snapped open. Art was still looking out at the water, head tilted like an inquisitive puppy. The wind fought to ruffle the few curls that peaked out from under his hat. “Never?” You asked.

Art shook his head. “We didn’t really go when I was a kid, and I was way too scared, anyway. Then when I went with friends it was more about beach volleyball and drinking than actually swimming.” He looked over at you, then laughed. “I’m guessing from your face right now, you must love swimming in the ocean.”

You closed your mouth, which you hadn’t realized had fallen open, and shook your head. “Do I?” His incredulous head shake made you smile. A beat of silence. “Are you still scared of it?”

He took a moment to answer, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. Not too scared to try, I guess.”

“Alright, wanna try?”

Art just tilted his head at you. You gestured toward your clothes, then the ocean, then to him. You could see it in his face when he caught on. “I’m not going in alone.”

You only took a second to think about it before you were tugging your t-shirt off and tossing it on the sand between you two. Your shorts came soon after. You already had one foot in the water when Art called your name, laughing so hard he could barely say it.

You shrieked at the cold as it hit your stomach, then sunk down to your shoulders, getting the shock over with all together. When you turned back toward the sand, you saw a shirtless Art running toward you in his boxers, moonlight tracing his chest and shoulders. He still had that fucking hat on. It made you grin.

He didn’t shriek when he hit the water, but he did take a lengthy inhale. You watched as he held his nose, screwed his eyes shut, and dunked himself up to his head. His hat bobbed just above the surface, and you picked it up and put it on yourself.

When he came back up, he shook his head, wet hair sending droplets flying. Art grinned, wiping water from his eyes and pointing at the hat on your head. “Thief.”

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll just let it float away then, idiot.” It only made him grin harder. You waved your arms back and forth through the water, the cold easier to ignore when you moved. “So?”

“Hm?”

“Still scared?”

Again, he thought about it for a moment. “No, actually. I think I’m okay.”

You hummed, bringing a finger to your chin in mock deep thought. “What if there are sharks? I think you should be scared of sharks, probably.”

“Nah.” Art shook his head. “The sharks should be afraid of me. I’m the scariest thing here.” He lifted his arms out of the water to flex comically, chin lifted in comical pride.

You laughed, splashing him, making him yelp. “Okay, sure, macho man.”

“What, don’t believe me?”

You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Before you knew it, Art had his arms around your middle, lifting you and dunking you in the water back first, like a baptism. You had all of two seconds to scream, then shut your eyes and mouth. He let you up immediately, wading away from you and toward the sand as you resurfaced, spluttering.

“Donaldson!” you shouted, though your serious tone was undermined by your beaming face. Somehow, his hat stayed on your head.

He’d gotten a little ways away from you, but you still had the advantage- you swam in the ocean every chance you got.

You surged toward him, biting back a cackle as his eyes widened in fear. You grabbed his shoulders, pushing off him and shoving him under the waves. He stayed under for a second- then two, then three, until you vaguely started to worry- before jumping out in front of you, wrapping his arms around your torso and making you all but scream.

“Holy shit!” You were giggling, wrapping your arms around Art’s neck for stability. “Isn’t it fun in here? You’ve been missing out.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, so you met his eyes. You hadn’t realized how close you were. It seemed like the realization was hitting him, too, as his eyes scanned your face. He glanced from your eyes to your lips and back. Despite the breeze and the water, your skin was suddenly very warm. You could feel every point where his body touched yours.

You knew what was happening- you could sense it. At least, you were pretty sure you knew. It’s the only thing that could come next, right?

… Maybe you were reading it wrong.

You hesitated. Then, suddenly, “God, it’s cold,” and you kicked off of him to dunk yourself in the water one more time, resurfacing a couple steps away and wading onto shore. When you looked back at him, you could almost convince yourself that the same disappointment that filled your chest was written on his face. “Come on!” You called cheerfully, and Art started after you, replacing the look with an amused smile.

You both put your clothes back on, if only to shield yourselves from some of the breeze on the short walk back. You were both silent as you neared the house, as you walked down the halls. Neither of you even remarked on how Tashi and Patrick had finally gone silent. When Art got to his door and stopped, though, you turned to him.

“Goodnight,” you said, willing your voice to sound less defeated than you felt. Your hands fiddled with the hem of your soaked shirt.

Art nodded. That look was back in his eyes, the one that looked just how you felt. “Goodnight.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The shower was much needed and very welcomed. You took your time getting sand off of you as best as you could, working the water into your hair (you’d wash it tomorrow- you weren’t going through that whole workout this late). When you stepped out of the hot water, toweling yourself off, your eyes caught on the red Stanford baseball cap on the sink counter. You bit your lip and walked past it, into the connecting bedroom you were calling yours for the weekend.

Pajamas on, you sat at the edge of your bed, scrunching your hair mostly dry with a spare t-shirt you’d packed just for that. The crash of the ocean enveloped you through the open window.

You thought about it. About his arms around you and his chest against yours. About the way he’d looked at you and you’d known exactly what he was going to do. About his face when you’d second guessed yourself and ran away.

Fuck. Why did you run away?

When you got up and walked to the door, you grabbed the hat from the bathroom counter. You told yourself you were only going to return it, but something in the back of your mind laughed at your excuse.

You had just gotten to the door, lifting a hesitant hand to knock, when it swung open and you were met with a flushed, freshly showered, boxers-and-t-shirt clad Art Donaldson.

The two of you stared for a moment. You didn’t see the disappointment in his eyes anymore, but there was still something there. You were sure it was on your face, too.

You cleared your throat. “Hat,” you said, intelligently.

Art glanced at the hat in your slightly raised hand, then nodded. His eyes came back up to meet yours, then darted down to your lips. He opened his mouth and hesitated. “Do you wanna-”

You pushed forward, pressing your lips to his for just a moment, before pulling back, searching his eyes. He didn’t give you too long to think about what you’d just done, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you back toward him and kissing you again. Hard.

Art yanked you into the room, and you dropped the hat, the door shutting as he pushed you up against it. His hands found their way under your sleep shirt, settling on your bare waist, and one of yours cupped his cheek while the other thread through his hair. You tugged gently at the curls, and he sighed your name into your mouth.

You pulled back just long enough to murmur, “Bed?”

He obliged, grabbing your hand to lead you to the corner bed. His rental room was similar to yours, save for a warm, dull bedside lamp on, barely illuminating the room.

You both crawled onto the bed on your knees, leaning forward to pick up where you’d left. Art’s hands played with the hem of your shirt and you helped him lift it off of you. His shirt went next. He cupped your breasts tentatively, thumbs brushing over your nipples, his face watching yours like he wanted to see if he was doing this right. You pulled him back in for another kiss and bit his lip. He groaned.

“Lay back,” he murmured against your mouth.

You did as told, scooting up the bed and falling into his pillows. They smelled mostly of the air freshener the owner of the beach house had doused it with, but the vague hint of Art’s cologne permeated the room.

He kissed you again, holding himself up over you. He placed kisses down your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone. As one of his hands came to rest between your legs, pressing against you between your pants and underwear, he placed his mouth on one of your nipples. He bit at it gently, sucking immediately to make up for the hurt and moving his hand against you. Your breath stuttered and grew heavy, lips parting, as he moved to your other nipple.

Art pressed a kiss to your stomach next, trailing lower, eyes closed. You watched as he murmured against your skin, “You don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this.”

“Yeah?” ‘Sex with me or eating me out specifically?’ you wanted to ask. Instead, you bit your lip and watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down together and tossing them on the floor. He pressed alternating kisses to each of your thighs, inching closer and closer. You could barely hear your voice when you asked, “Why didn’t you do anything?”

A shiver ran through you, partially from the vulnerability and cool air, partially from the way Art was looking at you- reverent. Devout. “I couldn’t imagine I’d be lucky enough.”

You wanted to say something back- something clever and sweet to let him know just how easily he could have had you- but his mouth was on you in less than a second, and all that you could do was let out an odd cross between a huff and a whine.

His tongue pressed flat against you- eager, almost desperate, like you were an oasis in the desert. His nose bumped your clit as he bobbed his head, switching between long strokes and focusing on sucking your clit. “Shit,” you whispered, your hand threading through his hair. He fell into a rhythm, the consistent vulgar noises of his mouth against you filling the room alongside your gasps and whines.

When his tongue pushed into you, your eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, Art,” you said, barely gripping his hair and faintly hoping that it wasn’t painful for him. He only whined at his name, a desperate noise, and pushed his face impossibly deeper. “I’ll- I’ll come if you keep-” You cut yourself off with a groan.

Art pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to. Please, let me taste it.” Immediately, his mouth was back on you, like he couldn’t keep himself away for long. You would’ve playfully chided him for being so filthy had you not been busy gripping his hair and letting curses fly.

You let your head fall back, hips rolling on their own accord, and he only adapted and let you ride his face and bring yourself to the edge. You came with a loud cry, thighs pressing in on his head, back lifting just slightly off the bed. Art didn’t back off as your high subsided, continuing until you’d come down and were laying there, panting.

You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, then pulled Art back up onto the bed. His eyes were glossy, much like the majority of his face, covered in you and his own spit. You put your hands on his cheeks, ignoring the sticky feeling and pulling him in for a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

One of your hands wandered, trailing down his chest and coming to rest at the front of his boxers, palming him. He groaned.

“I wanna fuck you,” you said, pulling away to look him in the eye.

Art huffed a laugh. “You can’t say that to me. I’m not gonna last at all.”

That caught you off guard, and you laughed. “What?”

He shrugged coyly, almost smug as if his cheeks weren’t still flushed and glistening from his time spent between your legs. “I’m, like, halfway there already.”

Just from eating you out and a little petting? That was… surprisingly hot.

You told him as much, relishing in how deeply he flushed and how widely he grinned. You made him lie back on the bed. “Condoms?” You asked.

He nodded toward his bedside, to the backpack leaning against the nightstand. You raised an eyebrow at him before leaning off the bed to grab one. All he offered you was a shy smile.

You kissed his chest, making your way down to his waistband, and he watched, propped up on his elbows, like he was sure if he took his eyes off you you’d disappear. When you pulled down his boxers and tossed them aside, you wasted no time ripping the condom wrapper open and rolling it on.

Getting up on your knees, you hovered over him and lined your hips up with his. You gave him a quick glance. “This okay?”

He nodded, eagerly, and you could’ve broken at the sight. You sank onto him, gasping slightly at the sensation. Art watched your face, open mouthed, eyes never leaving yours. You almost wanted to look away, but the intensity was riveting.

With him now fully in you, you gave yourself a moment to adjust, hands settling on his chest as he gripped your thighs. You gave your hips an experimental push forward.

Art let out a groan that sounded somewhat like “Fuck” and “Ugh” put together. You repeated the motion, your mouth opening softly as you watched his eyes flutter open and shut. It was like he was struggling between giving into the feeling and watching you.

You increased your pace, head falling forward as you lifted your hips with each push. Art’s hands moved to grip your ass, eyes focused on you, little pants and whimpers escaping him as you moved. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. You would’ve responded in kind, but he bucked his hips moments after and your head fell back with a moan.

With your hands now supporting you from behind, gripping the sheets, you rolled your hips with each lift. Art let out a particularly pathetic whine, and you grinned through your heavy breathing, gazing at him with heavily lidded eyes. “Close?” He nodded, his expression so desperate that you were sure he was right on the edge. You could feel yourself right behind him. “Cum for me then,” you panted.

Art groaned, one hand moving to press sloppy circles against your clit. You forced yourself to keep your eyes open, wanting to see his face as his orgasm hit him. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips parted as he panted and he whimpered. When his orgasm came, his eyes shut and he cried out, gripping you tightly and continuing to rub your clit, hips bucking into you involuntarily. You were only a second behind, “Fuck, Art!” the only thing you could say before your hips stuttered and your second orgasm washed over you.

Slowly, you came to a stop, panting and barely keeping yourself up. Your head was light, and you couldn’t wipe an exhausted smile off your face. When you finally felt like your arms wouldn’t give out, you lifted yourself off of him, collapsing on the bed between him and the wall, catching your breath.

Art removed the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash before turning to face you. His breathing was much more regular, but his chest still heaved. “...Fuck,” he said.

And you laughed, one arm over your eyes, the other clutching your stomach. “Yeah?”

He was grinning at you when your arm moved off your eyes, then leaning in, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your collar bone, your cheek. “Yeah,” he murmured. Silence fell over you both as you watched him intertwine your fingers and stare at them. His lip twitched, like he was working up the courage to say something. “I meant it, you know. I wanted this- you- I’ve liked you for… a while.”

You hummed, now suddenly also very interested in your intertwined fingers. “‘Liked,’ past tense? All done now?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, dumb-ass.” You smacked his arm, glancing up to find him looking at you now. “Like. Still. And probably will for a while.”

You felt your face warm. You kissed him. “I like you, too. Still do. Will for a while, etcetera.”

“Thank fucking god,” he said, and you couldn’t help but snort a laugh. When Art kissed you again, you could feel his smile against your lips, and you were sure he could feel yours.

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topguncortez · 3 days

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matt rempe with angst prompt “they’re lying to you” maybe she’s hughes sister and the boys don’t like her with a ranger player

Loving the Enemy - Matt Rempe

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celebration

synopsis: What was supposed to be an amazing night supporting her boyfriend's first NHL game, turns into a fight amongst siblings which leads to a broken heart. or in which Y/N Hughes is in love with the enemy.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: hockey inaccuracies, language, fighting, mentions of smut, break ups, angst

Being a Hughes sibling wasn’t easy. Being the only girl Hughes sibling was even harder. It wasn’t necessarily that you were a surprise, but your parents didn’t think that they would have a little girl after having three boys in a row. But you were their prized possession, and they would never say it out loud, but you were the favorite child.

You were close with all your brothers, being the youngest, they had been absolutely enthralled with you when you were born. Quinn had always been more than delighted to be an older sibling, and having a little sister was like getting ice cream before dinner. Jack was a bit indifferent towards you until you were about thirteen and he had accidentally body checked you during a scrimmage. He instantly expected tears, like had happened anytime he accidentally (or purposely) bodychecked you, but instead, you hopped back up and delivered a high stick to him about five minutes later.

But out of the three Hughes brothers, it was Luke, who you were the closest with. Only 18 months apart, some people believed that you two were twins. Not only did you both get the curly hair, but you both got the height gene that somehow missed Quinn and Jack. The two of you were also the quiet ones of the family, choosing to stick together and out of the spotlight. Luke was the first one you told that you didn’t like hockey, and you were the first one who Luke told he wasn’t going to go to the draft right away. But it wasn’t just the verbal communication that you two had, it was the silent glances and head nods that were understood from across the room.

And it was because of that bond, that Luke knew there was something you were hiding. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something off about you. He could hear you late at night talking and giggling with someone over the phone. You had been coming home late at night, using some excuse that you had been out with a friend or studying at a cafe. He even noticed that you were wearing a shirt he had never known you owned the other day. And right now, he knew that you were hiding away in your bedroom, which was uncharacteristically off for you. Usually you loved sitting on the beanbag, making fun of him, Jack, and Nico for playing NHL.

“Why is he here?” You whispered, peeking through the crack in your door, which gave you the perfect view of the living room, “I thought they were going to his place. Why are they here!?”

A low chuckle sounded out from behind you, making you turn your head towards the tall, muscular, still half naked man on your bed, “And this is funny to you? You realize if they see you here, you’re dead.”

“You don’t think I can’t fight them? Jack is what. . . five nine?”

You rolled your eyes, closing your door softly and walking back to your bed, flopping down next to him, “Five eleven and he’ll get out the measuring tape if you even doubt it.”

He instantly pulled your body into his, making you rest your hand on his peck, “So, you’re telling me you’ve never had a boy in your room before?” A shit eating grin arose on his cheeks, making heat flood yours, “Are you saying that I took your precious-”

“Oh shut up, Rempe,” You shook your head with a giggle, “It’s not cause you’re a boy, it’s because you’re a fucking Ranger.”

It wasn’t like you meant for it to happen.

You were sworn enemies. Well, supposed to be sworn enemies. The rivalry between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers went farther back than you had been alive. The “cross river rivals”, just 10 miles away from each other. Though you hadn’t been a Devils fan until your brother Jack got drafted in 2019, and even then, you still kept somewhat mutual in your cheering for them. But when Luke got drafted three years later, you had sworn your allegiance to the team (even though you swore you would still put on a blue Canucks jersey to support Quinn. . . and even he knew that would only happen when the Canucks weren’t playing the Devils).

You met Matt by accident. You had been leaving a coffee shop late after working on a research paper. Jack and Luke had told you over and over again to never go out walking in Jersey City alone at night by yourself. But you had never feared being out by yourself. There were plenty of times at UMich where you would leave the library by yourself and walk across campus to your dorm alone. Never had you felt terrified or in danger. But for some reason that night, you felt a shadow looming over your shoulder.

You had just gathered your things, ready to step out the door and head for the subway, when a voice in your head told you not to go. Your eyes had darted around the shop, looking for someone who you could sit with or strike up a conversation long enough for you to text one of your brothers to come get you. The shop was basically vacant, and the barista behind the counter looked like she was waiting for you to leave so she could lock up. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your backpack, placing your keys in between your fingers just in case. You had barely opened the door when someone placed their hand on your elbow.

“Daphne? Oh my god, I thought it was you! How the hell have you been?” The man said to you. You could see it in his eyes he was begging for you to go along with it and there was something about him, that you knew you could trust him.

“Kyle! Holy shit, where have you been!? It’s been what. . . four years?!” You said, overly excited. The barista from behind the counter cleared her throat, her eyes fleeting towards the clock behind her, “I was just about to hit up another spot, do you want to come with?”

“I would love to, we have some catching up to do.”

You felt a sigh of relief as you walked out of the coffee shop, the looming darkness fading away the further away you got, “Thank you for. . . that,” You muttered to him.

“No problem,” He said back, “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Y/N,” You looked up at him, “I uh. . . I think I’m going to call an uber now or-”

“I can take you. . . home. . .” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, “God, I just saved you from one creep now you probably think I’m a fucking creep but I promise I just want to make sure you get home safe and I-”

“It’s okay,” You giggled, cutting off his rambling, “I would like a ride home, if that’s not too much of a struggle. I trust you. . . even if I just met you.”

You thought he was good looking before, but the smile that arose on his face amplified that by a thousand. His brown eyes were soft as he held his large calloused and slightly bruised hand out towards you, which you took without second thought. The two of you walked down the street towards a black BMW. You slid your backpack off your shoulder, and he gently took it from your hand, opening the door with his other. He jogged around the back of the car after tossing your backpack in the backseat.

“Sorry if it smells like a gym in here, I usually hit up Blair’s after practice,” He explained, though there was no smell at all, probably due to the air fresheners he had hanging around his rearview mirror.

“Smells like winter apple,” You said, reading the label, “What sport do you play?”

Matt placed his hand on the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking space, and you hated how attractive that was, “Hockey.” A cough spluttered out of your lips as you choked on your own spit at his revelation, “What? Not a hockey fan?” He asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Who do you play for?” You asked, ignoring his question.

“Hartford Wolf Pack, but I got signed with the Ranges-”

“Oh god,” You groaned, holding your face in your hands, “Of course, I was standing in Rangers’ territory.”

Matt’s brown eyes glanced over at you before looking back at the road in front of him, “Well, I’m sorry,” He shifted in his seat, “Are you like an Islanders fan or something?”

“Even worse,” You mumbled, “My hot knight in shining armor, turns out to be a Ranger, just my luck.” You sighed, “My brothers play for the Devils.”

“Wait,” Matt stepped on the brakes, “Brothers? Plural? Are you related to the Hugheses?”

“Those would be the ones.”

Matt shook his head, a laugh falling from his lips, “Wow, really fucked up here didn’t we?” You couldn’t help but smile, “Well, Miss Hughes,” Matt said as he pulled up in front of the high rise apartment building, “Is it crossing enemy lines if I ask for your number?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the blush arising on your cheeks, “It is. . . but I’ve never been one to swear allegiance to just one place.”

That night was six months ago, but for you it felt like it was just yesterday. There was a certain thrill about sneaking around with Matt, meeting when your brothers were gone or his roommates were out. You hated the rap he had developed in the AHL. He wasn’t the bad boy goonish hockey player with the fiery temper. He was a sweet, gentle giant, who loved to be the little spoon and have his hair played with. He sent you flowers and money to go get food cause he knew you forget to eat when you are in intense study sessions. Matt had become your everything in such a short amount of time, that you hated keeping him and your relationship from your family.

It wasn’t that you wanted to keep your relationship a secret on purpose, but you both decided it was going to be the best for both sides. Matt was starting his second season with Hartford and then moving up to play for the Rangers in the Stadium Series. For you, Luke was starting his rookie season, and you were doing everything you can to remain lowkey and out of trouble for his sake. Mentioning that you not only had a boyfriend, but that said boyfriend was Matt Rempe. . . the whole house would be flipped on its side.

“I have something to tell you,” Matt muttered, grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers. You loved the way that one of Matt’s hands could encase both of yours. You looked up into his soft brown eyes, that you swear resembled those of a baby cow, “The Rangers called. . . they want me to play in the Stadium Series.”

You gasped in shock, climbing on top of Matt’s lap and grabbing his face in your hands, “They want you to play!? Matt! This is amazing!”

A smile crawled across his lips, “Thank you,” You watched as a shadow of doubt and unease filled his eyes, “I want you there.”

“I’ll be there,” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’ll be the loudest one there.”

“Oh you better,” Matt said, one of his hands gliding up to rest on your ass, the other one tangling in your hair, “You know I love you, right.”

“I love you too,” You smiled. Those three words would never fail to put a smile on your face.

“Good,” Matt smirked, “Cause right now, I need you to be very, very quiet.”

— — —

You didn’t really think it through when you told Matt that you would be there for the Stadium Series game. Not only did you have to sneak past your brothers to take the train to MetLife, you had to also sneak past your parents. Being the youngest of three boys, your parents had perfected the craft of knowing when one of their kids was hiding something.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Luke asked, standing in the doorway of your room.

“Positive,” You did your best trying to pretend you were sick, “My body just aches and my head hurts. I think I’m getting sick.” You hated lying to your brother. You hated lying to any of your brothers, but especially Luke.

Luke frowned, “I hate that you’re missing this dinner.” Nico had decided to host a dinner for all the parents, friends and family that came into town to watch them play in yesterday’s stadium game. You also hated that you were missing spending time with your family, but it's Matt’s first game. You weren’t going to miss that for the world.

“Can you bring me back some fries?” You asked meekly.

“Of course, ducky,” Luke nodded, using the childhood nickname he gave you, “Text me if you need anything.”

You waited until the front door closed, before climbing out of bed and getting dressed. You threw on a pair of black jeans and a white Rangers sweatshirt. You finished the outfit with a hat and your coat, hoping to conceal your identity amongst the crowd. The train ride to MetLife was short, and you followed the crowd into the stadium. Matt had done good with getting you a ticket, sitting you a few rows behind the Rangers bench. You had gotten there in time to see them warming up, Matt’s large frame skating around the ice with ease.

It was as if he could sense that you were there, his brown eyes searching the stands until he found you. He sent you a small wave, which made your heart flutter as you returned the gesture. He looked extremely good in his white Rangers jersey and the eye black on his cheeks. You knew how important this game was to him, not only was it his first game, but it also fell on the anniversary of his dad’s death. You knew that all he wanted in the world was for his dad to see him play the sport they both loved.

Within minutes of the puck dropping, the Rangers took control. You felt the familiar anxiety that you would get when watching your brothers take the ice, when Matt got off the bench. You clenched your fists tightly as the Rangers moved down the ice, skating flawlessly and making a goal. You stood up and cheered with the crowd as the goal horn went off, high fiving strangers and screaming in joy.

However the giddy feeling quickly went away, as you looked back towards the center, and saw your boyfriend in a fist fight. You knew he was a fighter at Hartford, and it wasn’t your favorite thing about his hockey game. He was a gifted player, with the height and reach other players would die for. You hated that the Wolfpack had set him up to be a goon within his first season there.

You watched with bated breath as the refs let him and the Islanders player battle it out. Punches delivered from both players, until they finally came to a draw. You shook your head as Matt raised his arms, trying to get the crowd fired up as he skated towards the penalty box. His first NHL game and his first five minute penalty for fighting.

As Matt sat down, taking the bag of ice from his trainer, he turned to scan the crowd, looking for you. He easily spotted you, standing out amongst the crowd as you gave him a look.

“You okay?” You mouthed and Matt nodded, holding up his bruised hand. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pay attention,” and pointed back to the game. Matt smirked, giving you a mock salute before turning back towards his team on the ice.

When the game ended, in a Rangers victory, you left quickly. You wanted to stay and see Matt and hug him, but you knew that you would be cutting it close to when your brothers and parents would be back. You settled for sending him a text, and telling him you would come over as soon as you could to help celebrate with him.

The apartment was dark when you arrived back, your siblings still out at the dinner with the team. You let out a sigh of relief, dashing back to your room and changing back into your pajamas. By the time you had settled down and turned on some cheesy romcom, the front door opened and the familiar sounds of your brothers and parents filtered into the apartment.

“Ducky!” Luke shouted.

“She’s probably sleeping, asshole,” Jack scolded him.

“Don’t call your brother an asshole,” Your mom chided.

“Ducky!” Luke called again, “I got you fries!”

You giggled, pushing the covers back and going to greet your family. Their smiles were big and comforting as you sat down at the island, opening the to-go container of fries. Jack filled you in on everything you missed at dinner, your mother sitting behind you and playing with the ends of your hair like she used to do when you were younger. It felt like old times, the only person missing was Quinn. You knew he was doing great things out in Vancouver, but you missed having him around. The facetime calls weren’t enough.

“So what did you do tonight, duck?” Your dad asked.

“Oh uh,” You cleared your throat, “Just watched some movies and slept.”

“You missed an exciting hockey game,” He said, “That Rempe kid is going to be a menace.”

“Yeah,” You tried to hide the blush arising on your cheeks, “I’m gonna go back and lay down, still not feeling the best.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Your mom squeezed your shoulder, “We’ll see you in the morning.”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, maybe we can go to that bakery on the corner-”

“What the fuck were you doing at MetLife?” Luke’s cut you off. You looked at him, your heart thundering in your chest.

“I-I wasn’t at M-MetLife,” You cursed your nervous stutter.

“Bullshit,” Luke cursed, putting his phone on the counter, and clear as day there was a picture of you, in your white Rangers sweatshirt, sitting behind the bench, “I thought you were sick.”

Tears began to cloud your eyes as you looked at your parents and then your brothers, “I’m sorry.”

“Why did you lie, Y/N?” Your mom asked. And suddenly you felt like you were a child all over again, being scolded by your parents. You hated getting in trouble, you hated looking at your parents and seeing disappointment in their eyes. The only time you ever really cried was when you were in trouble.

“I. . .” You huffed, “I went to watch Matt play in his first NHL game.”

“Matt?” Luke asked, “. . . Matt fucking Rempe?” You nodded your head. You felt your mom shift behind you, her stance going into protective mode, “Why the fuck would you go watch Matt fucking Rempe play-”

“Language, Luke,” Your mom spoke.

“Because we are dating.”

Silence spread across the kitchen for a moment, before laughter sounded out. A cruel sounding laughter as you looked at Luke. It was the fake sounding, teasing laughter that made you feel like a child.

“No you’re not,” Luke shook his head, “There’s no way.”

“Why?” You asked softly, “We’ve been together for six months.”

“No,” Luke chuckled again, “You aren’t dating him. You are not dating a hockey player, let alone one that has more penalty minutes than time on the ice. You aren’t dating him, you might be fucking him-”

“Luke!”

“But you aren’t dating him.”

You shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks, “He loves me.”

“Yeah and when did he say that? Before or after you fucked-”

“Enough!” Your mom stood up, her hands on the counter, “Y/N, you shouldn’t have lied to us about going to the game. If you wanted to go to support Matt, that’s all you needed to say,” You nodded, looking down at the counter, “Luke, you do not get to say those things about your sister and her relationship. You do not get to say those things about any woman for that matter. Now, apologize.”

You looked up at your brother, expecting to see remorse in his eyes, but all you saw was anger. Luke looked at you, before grabbing his phone and going to his room. You closed your eyes, feeling regret and guilt rising in your body. You mom put her hand on your shoulder, as a small sob left your lips.

— — —

It had been two weeks since your fight with Luke. Your parents had flown back to Michigan, leaving Jack to play the mediator between the two of you. Your mom had not so secretly texted Quinn to tell him what happened. He had called you the night after they left, which led to another tearful confession about your relationship with Matt. Quinn, being the big brother that he is, said he was upset that you felt like you couldn’t tell him about your relationship, but was nonetheless happy for you as long as you were happy.

But you weren’t sure if you were happy. Luke had refused to talk to you, or even be near you. If you entered the same room he was in, he would leave. He wouldn’t fix you a plate of food like he usually did, or tell you when he was leaving for the arena for a home game. He wouldn’t even respond in the groupchat when you would ask him a question directly.

But your strained relationship with Luke wasn’t the only relationship on the rocks. You hadn’t talked to Matt since the night of the stadium series. He had sent you countless text messages and left voicemails. He even went as far as sending flowers daily to the apartment, which Luke would toss out if you weren’t quick enough to grab them.

You were laying in your bed, half watching an episode of Bridgerton, like you had been for the past two weeks. Normally, you would be out in the living room with your brothers, but your bedroom felt like the only safe space in the entire apartment. You could hear the occasional shout or jest from your brothers as they were playing some video game on their night off. Beside you, on your bedside table, your phone buzzed for probably the tenth time this evening, another missed call from the same person.

You weren’t sure what you were doing. You knew it was hurtful to string Matt along like this, but you also didn’t have the heart to break up with him. These past two weeks had felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest, and to even think about living a life without him in it hurt too much.

You let out a slow breath as you closed your eyes, listening as the buzzing of your phone finally stopped. However, the loud sound of knocking pulled you from your moment of peace.

“Did you order something?” Jack’s muffled voice sounded out.

“No,” Luke said back. There was shuffling as the front door opened and the knocking ceased, “Oh you’re fucking kidding me. Why the hell are you here?”

“Where’s Y/N?” Your heart sped up at the sound of the all too familiar voice. You quickly jumped up from your bed, opening your door and running to the living room. There in all his tall glory, stood the man you loved, “Y/N.”

It felt like the air had been drawn back into your lungs as you looked at him, “Matt.”

“I uh. . .I just needed to see that you were okay. You haven’t been answering my calls or my texts,” Matt scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking at you and then your two brothers, “I’m gonna go now.”

“Wait,” You said, taking a step forward, “Can I talk to you?” Matt nodded his head, looking like a lost puppy dog. You looked at your two brothers, “Can I talk to him alone?”

“Yeah, c’mon Moose, we got game film to look at,” Jack said. Luke looked Matt up and down once, before letting him into the apartment and following his older brother down the hall towards the office room.

You silently walked over to the couch, Matt following behind you. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, before you broke the ice.

“Do you love me?”

Matt’s head snapped towards you, as your eyes looked straight ahead at the tv, “What?”

“Do you love me?” You looked over at him, “Do you mean it when you say-”

“Yes,” Matt answered quickly, “Yes, I do love you. I mean it every single time I say it. Why are you asking me this?”

You shook your head, “Luke said something and I-”

“He’s lying to you,” Matt moved from the couch to kneel down in front of you. He took your hands in his, “I love you, Y/N Hughes. I know we’ve only been together for six months but it’s been the happiest six months of my life. Not even hockey fills me with the joy as being with you does. So yes, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

You sniffled, tears falling from your eyes. Matt quickly wiped his thumb over your cheekbone, “I’m sorry. I. . . It all fell apart so quickly. Luke found out I lied and went to the game, and then he got so mad. I didn’t want to have to choose between-”

“No, you shouldn’t have to choose,” Matt said, tears brimming his own eyes. He was silent for a moment, warring thoughts in his head as he thought of what to say, “It would absolutely break me to pieces, but I won’t be the reason why you and your siblings don’t talk anymore. I. . . I can’t do that to you.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” You gasped.

“I don’t want you and Luke to not talk to each other because of me.”

“No,” You shook your head, “It will be okay, I promise. He’ll get over it.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Matt said, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “I know your family means everything to you, and I can’t stand to be the one who ruins that. I’m so, so sorry,” Matt leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll always love you. No matter what. You are it for me.” You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his warmth, “Goodbye Y/N.”

You sat there, unmoving as Matt stood up and walked towards the door. Your eyes fluttered open at the sounds of your brothers' footsteps, moving towards you.

“Are you happy?” You sneered at Luke, “He broke up with me.”

“Ducky-” Luke sighed.

“No,” You stood up shaking your head, “The love of my life just walked out the door because he knows that I care too much about you and your opinion. So Luke, are you happy?”

#matt rempe #matt rempe fan fiction #matt rempe fan fic #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe fic #ny rangers #hockey imagine #hockey fan fic #hockey fic

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fefern · 1 day

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OMFGGG I LOVED UR WUWA DATING HCS THEY WERE SOO CUTESHSJAJAJASNZJ<33 since your requests are currently open, can I request headcanons of wuwa Jiyan on how would he react to his s/o (gender neutral) who’d always swoon and admire the way he fights his enemies/protect others? Tyyyyyy!

✧˖° admiring jiyan when he fights. | jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: the general is the toughest guy around, and one amazing fighter too! what's it like when he catches you admiring his fighting skills?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved: jiyan, gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none! only a hint of suggestiveness if you really, really squint.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: UWAHHH thank you for the kind compliment on my dating hc's, you're such a sweetheart (๑˘ᵕ˘)! i hope you enjoy this tons! requests are still open so send them as you please! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jiyan ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

ever since you’ve come into his life, jiyan will sometimes bring you along when he trains or goes out on his daily rounds to make sure everything is going smoothly.

he’s hesitant to agree at times when you ask to come along, mainly because he really cares about you and your safety (as both the general and your lover.)

very protective and almost overreactive to his surroundings, the slightest of sounds is enough for him to gently grab you and put you safely behind him.

when danger does arise on rounds, he’s swift to protect you, pulling out his weapon and eliminating the enemy with a precision that’s unlike anything anyone has ever seen.

or, he’ll put multiple dummies on the ground and within a few seconds, they’re all chopped up into pieces as he wipes his brow and repeats the process.

when he’s in his element like this, everything around him is a bit blocked out, but one day, he hears you gasping when he eliminates some tacet discords.

he turns around, worried that you got hurt, but instead, there you are, admiring with a sparkle in your eye the way he eliminated those enemies.

he’ll give you a small tilt of his head, asking you what he did to get you to look at him like that.

when you mention how good of a protector and fighter he is, he’ll try to brush it off as it just being his duty at first, but when you persist, he’ll feel a small blush creep onto his cheeks.

he was so cool! the way he would slash enemies like it was nothing, how he'd look so calm and focused, how precise he was with his weapon, the more you take note of, the more his eyes widen.

jiyan will give a small smile to you, bowing a bit as a thank you.

he has been a general for so long that fighting and protecting the people like this was second nature, so for you to find him cool while doing so makes him feel sheepish.

“thank you, my love. until my last breath, i will continue to fight and protect you with everything i have.”

a few other points i thought of:

if you cheer after he’s done training, a few of the other midnight rangers will chuckle a bit at the enthusiasm. he waves them off, but his cheeks do turn a soft pink as he watches you hype him up.

once you pat him on the back where his tacet marks were and he was quick to take your hand. suggested you pat…elsewhere, for next time. those areas are sensitive after all.

one time, a tacet discord got close to him and broke the ponytail keeping his hair up. he finished them off easily, but having his hair flowing down behind him is enough for you to begin swooning again. your compliments on his hair make him give a small smile as you two walk along.

(imagine his hair down,,,FROTHING AT THE MOUTH-)

#wuwa #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves headcanons #wuwa headcanons #wuwa x reader #jiyan #jiyan x reader #wuwa jiyan x reader #wuthering waves jiyan x reader #jiyan headcanons #wuwa jiyan headcanons #wuthering waves jiyan headcanons #wuthering waves jiyan #wuwa jiyan #qi writes

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solarmorrigan · 2 days

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space au neighbor au steddie

So I wasn't actually sure what a space AU is meant to entail, so I hope a little vaguely Star Trek-inspired AU is okay?? This was a challenging combination, but it was fun!

Fanfiction Trope Mashup: 22. Space AU + 11. Neighbor AU

cw: vague mentions of injury, mentions of background character death

Lieutenant Steven Harrington transfers from the U.S.S. Nora and onto the U.S.S. Forrest about six months into the Forrest’s mission. He works in security. He can usually be found stationed somewhere on the ship, but sometimes he’s called up to go planetside.

(He’s also too pretty for Eddie to believe he’s one hundred percent human, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Eddie knows all of this because Harrington gets the previously vacant room right next door to his.

It isn’t bad, really; sometimes the sound of someone shuffling around on the other side of a wall that had previously been silent is comforting. Much as Eddie loves the hum of the ship around him—you can’t really work in engineering and not be a little enamored of the sound of the engines purring—sometimes human noise is what he craves.

(Particularly out here in the void of space. Eddie loves his job, loves working in the guts of a starship, but he wishes sometimes it didn’t come against the backdrop of an endless dark nothingness.)

Eddie doesn’t have reason to see Harrington very often during the day, but they work the same shift rotation, and they catch each other coming back to their rooms now and then at the end of a shift. They mostly exchange nods or waves, brief pleasantries if one of them is in the mood, but that’s really it.

At least, that’s really it until a few weeks in, when Eddie gets back to his room and sees Harrington still standing outside his own, mashing the buttons on the keypad and swearing quietly.

“Everything alright?” Eddie asks as he draws up at his own door.

Harrington lets out a long sigh. “Uh, yeah, just–” He shakes his head. “Apparently if you get your code wrong too many times in a row, the keypad locks you out. And you can’t get into your quarters. Which is… great.”

“You forget your code?” Eddie can’t help but ask.

“No,” Harrington snaps, then softens a little, looking sheepish, even a little embarrassed. “No, I just– sometimes the numbers get a little jumbled.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna have to go find someone from maintenance to reset this and let me in, so…”

“Nah, don’t bother. You’ve got in-built tech support right here.” Eddie gestures for Harrington to move aside and crouches down in front of the keypad to reset it; doors and security locks aren’t technically his remit, but it’s not like they’re hard. It’s the work of moments to get the keypad to unlock, and Eddie shuffles back out of the way. “Go ahead and try it now.”

Harrington steps up to the keypad and slowly punches in the six-digit code that should get him into his quarters, and this time, instead of beeping angrily and flashing red, it chirps and gives him the green light. His door slides open and Harrington sighs.

“Thank you,” Harrington says, turning a smile so bright on Eddie that he momentarily forgets how to function. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Nah, t’weren’t nothin’,” Eddie says for some insane reason, slipping into a ridiculous accent like he does when he’s running tabletop games in the rec room with a couple of other guys from engineering.

If Harrington thinks he’s being weird, he mercifully doesn’t mention it. Instead, he sticks a hand out towards Eddie, still smiling. “I’m Steve, by the way. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, taking the hand to shake (Steve’s hands are big, and strong, and warm, and Eddie tries not to think about it).

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. And not even for the obvious reasons,” Steve says, nodding towards his door.

“Yeah, you too,” Eddie says.

He then realizes that he’s still shaking Steve’s hand. He lets go, but Steve is slow to draw back. They’re quiet for a moment, both unsure how to end the encounter, before Steve lets out a little huff of a laugh.

“Well… have a good night,” he says, backing away towards his door.

“Yeah, you too,” Eddie says again, wondering where the hell all his eloquence has gone to.

With one last dorky little wave at Eddie, Steve disappears inside his room, and Eddie does the same.

They talk more, after that. Whenever their schedules coincide, they spend an extra few minutes outside their doors, learning more about each other, bit by bit. Eddie talks about why he’d joined up with a starship even though he really hates space (he’d had to get out of his small-minded hometown), and Steve talks about how he’d ended up really enjoying his work even though he’d only joined to appease his dad (captain of another ship, one Steve prays he’ll never, ever be assigned to).

Their conversations edge past five minutes, past ten, past fifteen. Eddie talks about his uncle, who taught him at least half of everything he knows about fixing things, who had encouraged him to reach for the stars. Steve talks about his best friend in the galaxy, who works up in communications and speaks “about a million languages.” He mentions that they’d met as ensigns, both stationed on the U.S.S. Butterscotch, but he doesn’t say much more than that (and Eddie won’t make him; he knows the story already. The ship might have had a ridiculous name, but the fate that had befallen it had been anything but: it had been taken over by hostiles and eventually gone down in flames. The number of survivors had been abysmal, and fact that Steve is here at all is a small miracle).

Steve learns that Eddie loves music and roleplaying games. Eddie learns that Steve has a knack for avoiding medical staff after altercations planetside and for brushing off minor-to-moderate injuries.

He’s not as good at avoiding Eddie, however, who makes a point of dragging him down to medical one evening after spotting a still-bleeding gash on Steve’s arm.

“One of these days, you’re gonna come back with something you can’t walk off,” Eddie warns him, “and I’ll be there to say I told you so.”

“Well, as long as you’re going to be there, I guess it won’t be so bad,” Steve replies, and Eddie tries not to be swayed by the flirting.

When Eddie turns out to be right, though, he doesn’t even have the heart to say I-told-you-so, which he feels a bit cheated about later.

The evening starts out so promisingly: Steve and Eddie are loitering outside their doors, Steve gravitating further and further into Eddie’s space as they talk, and Eddie is just about to pluck up the nerve to invite Steve inside when Steve’s communicator goes off.

He frowns, pulling it from his pocket to check the message, and his demeanor immediately turns serious. “I have to go,” he says, and apprehension prickles at the base of Eddie’s skull.

“Everything alright?” Eddie asks.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Steve offers Eddie a brief smile. “We can pick up where we left off as soon as this is taken care of.”

Eddie wants to ask just what “this” is, but he finds out soon enough. The promising evening turns into a hellish night with too little sleep and too many hits to the machinery for comfort, under attack from some unknown, hostile force. When things finally calm down and reports start rolling in, things aren’t as bad as they could be. No casualties, minor damage to the ship, and minimal injuries. It sounds reassuring, until Eddie finds himself standing next to Steve’s bed in the infirmary.

“I’m going to be fine. Stop looking at me like that,” Steve says, even though his eyes are closed and he can’t possibly know how Eddie is looking at him.

And the thing is, Eddie knows he’s right – Steve might sound an awful lot like he’s in pain right now, but the medical tech on the ship is top of the line, and the staff is equally good. Steve will be fine, but that doesn’t give Eddie any comfort right then, realizing how lost he would feel without his and Steve’s hallway conversations every day.

How lost he would feel without Steve.

It scares him– for a moment, it scares him enough that he wants to run from it, to put a halt to things before they get too serious, before this really hurts him. But even more than that, there’s a feeling greater than the fear: one of rightness when he’s with Steve, a feeling that’s worth the risk, that’s worth holding onto.

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve’s hand where it rests on the bed.

Steve cracks his eyes open to look at Eddie.

“You know…” he says slowly. “They said I should be fine on my own by tomorrow, good to go back to my own quarters, but– I’d feel a lot better if there was someone nearby. Just in case.”

“Like someone right next door?” Eddie asks, a tease of a smile beginning to grow on his face.

“Maybe a little closer than that,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hand in his own.

“I think I can do that,” Eddie says, finding that he’s prepared to do a lot of things, if it means he can keep Steve close.

#tea42 #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddiesteve #stranger things #you don't need to know star trek at all for this #this is like knock-off star trek. store brand star trek #it's there so that steddie can be gay and awkward in space #solar wrote #answers from solar

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r0semaryt3a · 2 days

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Loved your dating hc's!!! They all felt really convincing and in character 💕💕 How do you think the pt (preferably chrollo, uvo, phinks and feitan if thats too many) sleep next to u?? are they cuddlers, kickers, white noise users, midnight bathroom breakers, snorers or whatever else?

Ahhh glad to hear it!! I’ve only really wrote a lot about Chrollo so I was worried the others were OOC-

I’ve only really been thinking of writing for Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Shalnark, Machi and Paku but given as you asked for Uvo I’ll add another onto that list! (Small spoiler warning: I love the troupe, but they’re all messy sleepers and I won’t be convinced otherwise!)

Chrollo

He definitely has a night mask, incense and all that to help him doze off. Chrollo is a chronic suffer of predormitional insomnia: his mind runs a million a minute, man is NOT used to sleeping a healthy 8hrs.

You can guarantee if Chrollo falls asleep before you (a very rare event) you’ll find him stiff as a log. He falls asleep in whatever position he’s in and will stay there until he wakes up. Honestly, it’s a wonder he isn’t ridden with all sorts of issues (get him a chiropractor one day.)

On the other 364 days a year when he falls asleep after you, well aren’t you just the perfect little teddy bear! His arms are always wrapped around you tightly.

If you happen to be a light sleeper? You’ll definitely wake up in the middle of the night to his face buried into the crook of your neck; fingers tapping away at your abdomen as his breathing settles, the smell of lavender drowning out any other senses. So definitely a cuddler. (I will die on this hill)

Sometimes he might even pepper your neck with kisses if he notices you’re awake.

If you’re a heavier sleeper? You better get used to waking up in the morning under a vice like grip, a mat of black hair brushing against your cheek and -whether he’s awake or not- you’re not getting out of it

Big spooner, you could be twice the height of him and he’d still demand it.

Not much of a snorer, maybe the few light hitches here and there but overall he’s sound asleep.

Most nights when Chrollo can’t sleep, he’ll sit up with a book in one hand and his other arm wrapped around your sleeping form. Sometimes he’ll doze off and sometimes he’ll only be brought away from his book by your stirring.

On particularly bad nights, where his insomnia truly flairs up, you’ll have to listen to a plethora of podcasts or “soothing sounds” for him to actually sleep. And yes, you’ll have to listen to them. There’s something innately intimate about having you indulge him in his interests: makes it far easier to sleep.

Feitan

You cannot tell if this man is awake or asleep 9/10.

“You sleep. I watch.” Kind of deal, he has many things to preoccupy himself with: like watching you! (In a: ‘someone takes even one step in this general direction, you’ll have a lullaby of screaming to doze off to’ kind of way)

It’s not that he can’t sleep, it’s that he doesn’t want to. Feitan sees sleep as a waste of time, it bleeds days into days and he could be spending that time well, instead of sleeping.

Everytime he wakes up he mentally kicks himself for having made such a waste of time

That’s where you come in! Hope you’re willing to have a human sized cat latched onto you every single night! Big spoon, little spoon, doesn’t matter to him: you’ll wind up with him clinging onto you for dear life regardless.

Despite this fact however, you’ll never know the plethora of times he wakes up in the middle of the night, painstakingly, detaches himself from you and paces around the room feverishly. Muttering about who knows what, head flicking to every angle at even the minutest of sounds. Feitan doesn’t like not being alert: loathes it, so this is his way to regulate the nerves that rest often brings.

Feitan is a very light sleeper, any slight movement may set him off and cause him to completely switch back on (sleep maintenance insomnia hits him hard).

He doesn’t strike me as a snorer but definitely isn’t quiet, sounds like a Guinea pig sometimes. A total teeth chatterer. Seriously, you’ll wake up and hear a light ‘Tch Tch Tch’ from wherever the hell he’s grabbing onto you tonight.

Will not ever wake up in the same position he falls asleep in (not that you’ll ever know that fact, he’s always looking over you long before you’re awake.)

Trust me: you’ll know if Feitan has a bad dream. His claws (yes claws) will be digging into you, his hold on you tightening with a particularly sharp ‘hiss’ of his teeth.

Likelihood is: his sleeping patterns will leave more marks on you than any other activities ever will. But, don’t worry! It shows he cares (I think?).

Phinks

Kicker, oh he is a real kicker.

You’ll wind up waking up off the bed more times than you will on it.

On and off cuddler, there’s very few times that you’ll fall asleep cuddling but by god is it a wild guess as to whether you’ll wake up doing so.

Phinks will fall asleep with his back towards you, teetering off the edge of the bed. And, In the matter of minutes can have one leg half way across the bed, the other swung over the edge, left hand across his face, right on his chest, mouth slack and whole body at a 45* angle.

Other times, you’ll find a knee digging into your back as he’s (very awkwardly) cuddling you from behind.

Surprising the masses (not): he snores. Has a whole box of nose strips to stop this.

Despite all of these, interesting, idiosyncrasies. The few times you fall asleep cuddling: he’s an entirely different sleeper. It’s like he takes a page out of Chrollo’s book and doesn’t move an inch (aside from rolling, he’s a total roller).

The snoring won’t stop though.

Doesn’t need anything to help him sleep, his head hits the pillow and he’s out like a light. Real heavy sleeper as well, you could roll him off the bed with an almighty thud and he’d still be sound sleep. It’s actually fairly endearing.

Will sleep for 6 hours, wake up for 1, roll around for a bit, settle down and then sleep for another 2.

Best pray you’re a heavy sleeper: that’s all the advice I can give you.

Honestly? It’s like sleeping next to a bear, vaguely adorable as much as it has you fearing for you life (and place on the bed).

Uvogin

If Phinks is like sleeping next to a bear, Uvo is a bear hug.

You’ll find your place settled neatly against his chest, as if he’s one of those comically large backpacks (like Johnny’s from Hotel Transylvania). Don’t worry about anything, truly, you’ll be snug as a bug in a hug.

Surprisingly, not a snorer (when sober at least). Often needs noises to fall asleep to though. If there’s not calamity afoot then Uvo tends to get angsty; you may have to deal with the occasional outburst.

So, you often have loud games or shows blaring in the background as he rests his chin on your head. Uvo doesn’t fall asleep easily, meaning there’s very few times that you can turn the noise off before you head to sleep yourself. You best get used to sleeping to the volume of a rock concert! (with his constant screeching he blew his own ear drums)

Invest in earbuds of some kind, it’ll help the both of you.

The LOUDEST snorer when drunk. I mean LOUDEST. Cotton buds line your bathroom cupboards for whenever he drinks, you’ll have to pick out bits of cotton on particularly bad nights.

Absolute hoarder. Whether it be you, a pillow, the duvet, he’ll have it and he isn’t letting it go. It’s honestly quite comforting, his presence isn’t exactly small, so with this hoarding comes a sense of security.

He’s surprisingly gentle as well, it doesn’t feel infantilising, more like you’re something from a heist that he doesn’t want to break.

Can fall asleep anywhere there’s noise. It’s a skill, you’ll find him contorted in a corner just so long as the TV’s humming in the background. Don’t think of moving him, you won’t.

Probably takes a good few trips to the loo during the night. Which, unfortunately for you, given your nightly position: leads to you being woken up every time he does.

Shalnark

Not a fan of cuddles, like at all. Shalnark is quite the squisher when you’re both up and about or even just lounging on the covers, but when it comes to sleeping? He’ll do it, sure, but he won’t be too thrilled most nights. There’s the odd time that he’ll be uncharacteristically for the idea, pulling you close and running off a mile a minute! He doesn’t tend to actually sleep those nights, more ramble on like you’re at some two person sleepover; the sentiment’s there nonetheless.

Despite this fact, he’s very specific with having at least something pressed up against his back -little spooner- and will get agitated if this requirement isn’t met.

Podcasts, lots of podcasts. Shalnark has about ten to twenty playlists that he’ll be sat scrolling through: trying to find the one he wants to sleep to. You’ll never be privy to these of course, he tends to keep a pair of headphones shoved in some drawer.

Oftentimes, before even attempting to sleep, he’ll be scrolling through some forum or busy doing: something. Though, for some reason you don’t remember any of his chronic scrolling…

Bathroom breaker, it’s nothing annoying but you’ll never not notice the shift in weight, as he swings his legs off the bed and heads to the bathroom. He’s always careful not to make too much noise, which winds up causing more in the process.

Has a small assortment of glasses of water that will accumulate through the week, all filled to different volumes. He swears he’ll drink them! He never does. It just ticks that little box of ‘just incase’ and he can’t sleep without it. Same with most other amenities.

Late sleeper, this man will never be up before you. That may be attributed to the fact he never falls asleep before you, but who’s to say!

Machi

The fact you don’t have single beds is both a gift to thank her for and a curse. Machi is a sleep tosser; she tosses a lot.

You tend to sleep on opposite ends of the bed. This is both in part to her overall distaste of sleeping together and the kicking. Oh boy, the kicking.

You know how the immune system can sometimes misinterpret things as threats, causing autoimmune reactions? That Machi when asleep. It’s like a subconscious instinct, a defence mechanism is you will; it’s certainly a good one! It’s just, not always needed. Especially not when you wake up at 4:34am after a particularly sharp jab at your side.

Though, some nights she’s stiff as a board! Not one movement or peep. As if death herself had stole Machi away.

She’s not a particularly picky sleeper, Machi can rest to almost anything. However, there is one thing that seems to expedite the process. Fire - whether the simple crackling singing off in the distance, or the chocking scent of smoke pervading the air. It seems to calm Machi, there’s no foreseeable reason for it. She just, likes fire.

L i g h t sleeper, you can’t count the amount of times she’s jolted awake, swearing she heard something. Windows, doors and anything else that might throw the room into disarray or stir up noise are a must close.

Sleep mutterer. It’s a rare occurrence, but Machi will sometimes have whole conversations with the air. You’re usually both asleep when these conversations take place (there was once that you overheard one to its completion. You’ll never tell her of course).

Pakunoda

Incense galore.

Seriously it’s everywhere.

Pakunoda needs some form of soft scent to lull her to sleep. This often comes in the form of floral scents, but can branch off into other soothing smells. Her particular favourites include cedar and amber.

You wouldn’t describe what you and Pakunoda do as cuddling, per se. She treats you more like a support pillow than anything else. Arms wrapped around you tightly and chin resting upon your head.

Neither of you will be able to move an inch throughout the night. Pakunoda has a very specific pre sleep schedule that she’ll run through every night (including final bathroom breaks, cleaning and small talk) and after that, it’s lights out. It doesn’t matter if you wake up and need something: she’s out cold. You might be able to escape, if you can pry yourself out. But just know: getting back in the same position will prove twice as difficult.

Not a snorer, hell, you can hardly hear her breathing most nights. If it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of her chest against your back, you’d question if she even was.

Up long before you are, usually has one half of the bed already made (haphazardly as not to disturb you.)

I had a lot of fun doing this one; might return to it for further Troupe members at a later date, so cheers for the ask Anon! (Little irrelevant thing I just want to mention for future reference: if any PT ask includes Hisoka or Illumi please specify as such.)

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malenjoyer · 2 days

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Hi!

I know right now may not be the best time to say this, but I'm kind of still processing how fast this all happened. As someone who likes to look over artists' past work esp my fav works daily and just suddenly noticed that they're almost all gone: twitter, instagram, and tumblr. It frustrates me that not only has this situation affected you, but how it really takes one selfish and inconsiderate person to ruin everything for others. I truly hope that you can heal from this and maybe we might see those pictures again, but this is just soo much to process. Just love and support for you <33333 🥹🫶😭🫶🫶🫶🫶

Hi. I’ve privated a lot of my work on tumblr and Instagram, so they’re not gone forever. I still have a lot of positive memories with them so I didn’t want to delete them. I wanted to keep all the nice comments and support I’ve gotten over these past few years.. I might unarchive them sometime in the future when I’m more okay with it being looked at. Twitter, I had no choice but to delete it, especially ones with dick, jason, and Peter Parker. My brain freaked out a little bit from seeing evidence of the person saving my art and making fake clip files with them. Logically, I am aware deleting my old art in response is stupid.

But it wasn’t limited to just comic art, it was other interests I had too which was really uncomfortable that someone would go to the extent of pretending they like other stuff I liked. They would also paraphrase tweets I’ve made about my personal life onto their own twitter. That just isn’t okay.

Every interest I’ve ever fallen in love with meant a lot to me. This is probably not publicly known information since I’m relatively private, as a depressed autistic person, a lot of who I am is what I end up liking. My friends and relatives describe me as dressing up like a cartoon character, because everything I like is so visibly obvious. I become utterly consumed in my favorite things. Suddenly, it feels like all of my control was taken away from me. My interests collected over the years were no longer just mine, it was someone else’s because they decided to lie and it was easier to continue lying. I don’t know how much was saved. There was a screenshot of a message with over 8+ of my art works sent excluding the fake files.

I don’t have control over it. The impersonation of my identity and my life experiences.

But I do have control over who gets to see what I put out in the future. I could probably write this better but I’ve rewritten a lot of things within these two days. Rewritten posts over and over so it sounds less aggressive, less hurt, less like I am trying to call for a witch hunt and more just taking extra precautions. I don’t think I have the energy to rewrite this to seem less vulnerable/pathetic.

I want to apologize to everyone who hoped I’d keep my past art public. I know how it feels. I’ve been fans of artists who just blew up their account one day and never came back. I only privated them on tumblr and Instagram. That’s all I can do. Honestly, I’m hoping a part of my brain just forgets some of this happened since depression does come with memory loss.. This post is now too long.. but I hope it gives some insight for what’s happening on my side of the brain. I appreciate all the support so far.

If you see me acting a little weird on twitter, I’m just trying to regain a sense of control over my identity.

#long post #very long post

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nayatarot777 · 1 day

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PSA For Those Who Don’t Understand That Shit Ain’t Always Sweet Out Here In This Spiritual/Tarot World

I’m not one of these “love and light” tarot readers/spiritualists. You’re going to hear shit about yourselves in my readings that you don’t like, if that’s what Spirit wants to come out. Idgaf if it’s based on personal topics, relationships, work, health in any aspect - a lot of us self-sabotage. A lot of us are in situations with people and environments due to our own doing (partially). I’m not the reader that’s going to enable your perpetual victim complex and tell you what you want to hear to protect your ego from seeing a side to yourself that you don’t like. I’m not one of those readers who help you to lack accountability over what you allow into your own life despite having the option to do better. Of course I’ll try to put it in a delicate way where I can, but if a difficult pill to swallow is presented in a reading, I’m going to point it out.

I’ll point out your control issues that I see (no matter how much you try to hide or deny them). I’ll point out where you’re betraying yourself, where you’re disrespecting yourself, and where you’re disrespecting another. If you want to focus on love and light, then by all means - do that. But that’s the reason why so many of you are still unstable and imbalanced with no idea of how to balance and ground yourself. You think any of us could exist without darkness and negativity (which isn’t always evil and “bad”)? You think that you can exist only paying attention to the good parts of you without the bad? Go ahead and see how that turns out for you.

So many of you wonder why your intuition is thwarted and why you feel like you can’t connect to your higher self or the spiritual world without a “middleman” (such as myself). It’s because you’re not ready for that. Because you’re not ready to explore darkness within yourself in order to clear out a lot of the bs that’s clouding your vision. Why do you think that so many people who are great intuitives go through some of the darkest manifestations of life itself? Major abuse, betrayal, childhood wounds, just complete chaos - and they STILL come out to be some of the strongest and well-balanced people you’ll ever meet. They’re people who are strong enough to transmute darkness into light. You’re not going to do that by ignoring shit that you don’t like. And the darkness is terrifying. Exploring space, the deep sea, or any type of unknown is terrifying. But what would society look like if not one of us decided to do that? Where would we be as a human race if people with courage didn’t venture into those spaces and bring back a bunch of knowledge for us to expand our consciousness with? We all owe doing that for ourselves. Not doing so is self-betrayal and stagnation.

Intuition is represented by the moon. Does the moon emit light? No. Mother Luna is a dark entity and she lives in the darkness - which is the core of everything. And if you’re a woman/a feminine, you’re doing yourself even more of a disservice. Because darkness is pure, feminine energy. We come from our mother’s dark ass wombs. This entire universe began as a dark ass body of space-and-time before it formed physical planetary bodies and light sources. Reject yourselves all you want, but you can’t complain that you’re out of whack energetically if you choose to do so. Or when what you’re manifesting doesn’t come through (which also stems from the darkness btw). Don’t reject the darkness but expect to be able to use it when it benefits you. Sounds like shit that masculines have done to the feminine for centuries, huh? And so many feminines are doing that same exact shit to themselves. It’s sad.

We’ve seen entire groups of people with weak egos follow the same path of rejecting darkness/femininity and we see how difficult they are as people to co-exist with: ignorant men who have egos as big as the sun because they don’t want to face the hidden sides of themselves - that often times houses some ugly traits because of what they’ve allowed to fester in the dark corners of their psyche. Ignorant, male-centred religious people who identify so much with their religion that they only want to focus on the light, happy parts of their religion while ignoring how much harm that same religion can cause to others (especially feminines/women). Thats just to name a few. If you walk around with this idea that you’re nothing but “love and light” then just know that you’re another ignorant person in this world who is no doubt ignoring very real and human negative effects that you have on yourself and/or others - no doubt. And the darkness doesn’t always have negative effects (obviously) but it will when it’s suppressed and therefore forced to come out in uncontrolled, unconscious ways. If that’s what you want to do, then I’m not the reader for you.

#pick a card #psychic readings #pac #tarot reading #pick a photo #pac reading #pick a picture #tarot #divination #spirituality

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withabroken-heart · 2 days

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BSD CHARACTER PET PEEVES

various, just a few hcs! a few x reader things in there too

atsushi is a pretty easy-going guy and not many things seem to piss him off. the biggest exception to this is bad breath. maybe its because his ability grants him heightened senses, but his face scowls in disgust whenever someone dazai has an off smell while speaking. on the flipside, atsushi can also smell his own breath. sometimes late at night when he comes home you find him scrubbing his teeth, with soap if he uses up all the toothpaste. buy him lots of mints! he’ll probably end up offering them to people dazai

much like atsushi, tanizaki isn’t easily bothered. however, if he is rushing to return home to his dear sister, or walking by her side on the street, he hates slow walkers. his patience wears thin whenever someone on the sidewalk is meandering with 0 spacial awareness. he doesn’t often act on it, leaving you to squeak by an excuse me! to make way for you and him- and he loves you for it.

yosano has many, many pet peeves- but the biggest of these is leaving the toilet seat up. poor girl has to share an office with so many boys- and it doesn’t help that she already has a strong distaste for the opposite gender. she will either use her leg or will call you to come fix it for her- and afterwards she’ll lecture you on all the harmful bacteria you can contract illnesses from in bathrooms. shes a doctor and she means well <3 just fix the damn toilet seat

ranpo, being a lover of sweets, hates overly priced candy. he is childish and isn’t too financially literate, but he knows that a pack of gum should not be $6. he especially hates gas station candy- one, for the quality, but two for the fact that they cost you an arm and a leg. take him to a regular grocery store- or better yet- make him some sweets yourself! they taste better when you make them and when they’re free

kenji is a sweet, easy going, ray of sunshine who hates the sound of stomachs growling- especially his own. perhaps its because of his strong feelings toward poverty, and the sounds of hunger sends shivers down his spine, but he especially can’t stand it if its from his or your tummy. make sure he (and yourself!) are always fed <3 unless he needs to pick up some cars and lift stop signs from the ground

kyouka hates knuckles cracking with all her being. really any body part casually being cracked in public annoys her. i say this because i hc atsushi to be a big knuckle cracker, and can imagine kyouka silently quaking with rage next to him with demon snow prepared to strike. please don’t crack anything around her!

lord, kunikida’s list pf annoyances probably take up 3 pages. gum chewing, interruptions, tardiness, misspellings- but the biggest of these is giving and not returning. and this is SPECIFICALLY for his precious fountain pens. he has a written list of every time and every pen dazai has borrowed and has never gotten back. i imagine dazai does that purely because he knows it pisses kunikida off, and just has his pens lying around in a drawer somewhere. please always return his things! and give him a peck on the cheek too <3

dazai isn’t on this list because dazai is the pet peeve of the whole agency

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uwuyangeppie · 2 days

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your stomach sinks.

none of them know that their brother is downright insane, and you really don’t want to break the illusion for them. however, you also want to be free.

and it looks like those two things can’t exist at the same time.

serval landau hugs you tightly.

“ah! you’re alive! we all thought you’d been kidnapped!”

you were, you think miserably. you don’t tell serval this. how could you? gepard is her baby brother; even suggesting he’s corrupt would break her heart- and quite possibly brand you as a liar.

“geppie’s been so worried! stay here, i’ll text him now.”

you want to protest, you want to leave, you want to cry. don’t text him, you want to say. i’ll get locked up again! she doesn’t notice your eyes flickering back and forth, your breath quickening, anxiety building in your chest.

geppie! i found them!!! they’re safe and sound :D

thank qlipoth. are they with you?

say no, you want to say, watching the exchange of messages. SAY NO.

yup yup!!

where are you? i’ll come now.

awwwwww does my baby brother have a crush? is lil geppie in love?!

…

yes. where are you?

out by the fountain in the main square!

you look up at the sky; the sun is shining today. not a cloud in sight. and gepard is like lightning- he’s already quickly striding towards the fountain, eyes firmly fixed upon you.

you sigh. at least it’s a nice day to be recaptured.

#talked to oomfie about this idea #she said damn i’d just break the news to her fuck that #she’s right and i would too #but is that in the spirit of yandere fics #yandere gepard #yandere gepard x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader

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callsign-rogueone · 3 days

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falling, floating, flying - d.a.

Dain Aetos x marked!reader (Love!) words: 2.2k 🏷: here is the official start of Dain and Love's story!! no book spoilers yet (this occurs pre-Fourth Wing! reader and Dain's first year.) no pronouns used in this chapter but future ones will be she/her afab reader. mentions of fear of heights, falling from heights and jumping from heights, Dain being Dain and flipping out on reader (for a good reason lowkey). yes, I am legally required to traumatize everyone when they get their signet. copy-pasted physics jargon from wikipedia. this series is going to be my attempt at a slowburn... we'll see how that goes. as usual, 5 points extra credit if you can spot another girlfriend in here! chapter two is ready, and slated for Fri/Sat. maybe earlier. I'm not good at resisting peer pressure 🤭

This flight training would be a lot more enjoyable if you weren’t positioned next to Amber Mavis the entire time. Her orange daggertail is just as irritating as she is, and equally self-centered; Claidh keeps forcing anyone and everyone out of his way, regardless of where they’re supposed to be in the formation, and Cosa isn’t having it. You aren’t, either — neither of you will be bullied, especially not by someone in your own wing.

Claidh flicks his tail out completely unnecessarily, and Cosa has to swerve to avoid being hit with it. The sudden movement has you tilting in your seat, and she tries to correct for it by turning in the opposite direction, but it doesn’t work.

You scramble to hold on to her, but your nails don’t make a dent in her scales — you slide right off of her back. You shriek, the sound swallowed up by the air as you drop straight down like a rock, cold wind whipping your hair out of its braids and into your eyes, stinging your cheeks.

“Reach out!” Cosa shouts, diving down to try to catch you. “Reach for the bond!”

You shut your eyes tightly, grabbing onto the little red string connecting you to Cosa and pulling as hard as you can. A feeling you’ve never felt before spreads through your body like wildfire, a rushing wave of pure power.

For a split second the world around you stills completely; like that feeling you get when you’re about to fall asleep, and you feel like you’re going to plummet through the mattress, only to jolt back awake — but you’re not in your bed, you’re suspended in midair, still a hundred feet above the ground. And then you’re falling again, but not as fast — you’re… floating? You drift through the air like an autumn leaf, landing in a heap on the forest floor.

You groan, rolling onto your back and looking up through the treetops at the blue sky above you. You’re exhausted and a little sore, though nothing feels broken, and you clearly aren’t dead. Count your blessings, or whatever — but what the fuck just happened?

Cosa must realize you’re still alive, because her panic decreases substantially, leaving you with your own emotions, none of which you can name. You feel like you’ve just taken a dip in the Arctile ocean, frozen and numb, your brain wanting to shut down.

“Callwell!” someone shouts through the trees.

“Over here,” you manage, the words coming out hoarse and quiet.

There’s a rustle of branches and the sound of hurried footsteps before you see Dain jogging toward you. He breathes a sigh of relief seeing you in one piece, sitting upright.

He kneels down beside you, examining you for injury, but not finding anything glaringly wrong. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I… I wasn’t hurt,” you answer distantly, still looking out into the forest.

“But are you okay?” he asks, more gently. It’s clear that you’re still rattled — you’re trembling, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, that usual happy, joking personality nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s not stupid.”

You finally start to cry, swiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, but the cold leather doesn’t absorb anything, it just pushes the salty tears around your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you rasp, suddenly embarrassed, worried he’ll think you’re weak for sitting here sniffling like a child that skinned their knee.

“Don’t apologize,” he says softly. “That was terrifying.”

It takes a moment for you to focus your vision enough to look at him. You can’t tell what has you more stunned— those pretty brown eyes gazing down at you with such softness, or the fact that he’s treating you so carefully, that he’s put aside the rivalry and bickering to make sure you’re okay.

You clear your throat delicately, standing. “We should get back up there. They’re probably wondering where we are.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he nods, rising to his feet and motioning for you to follow him back from whence he came. The walk out of the forest is quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps on the layers of fallen pine needles and twigs snapping under your boots.

“Thank you, Dain,” you say softly, once your tears have dried.

He blinks for a moment, realizing this is the first time he’s heard you use his given name— not Aetos, but Dain. He likes hearing it from you more than he should.

“Of course,” he replies, holding back a tree branch so you can squeeze through the narrow path by his side. “That’s what squadmates are for.”

The comment makes your heart sink — he’s not here because he’s truly your friend, or because he genuinely cares if you were injured or dead, but out of obligation to that damned codex, and the goal of winning Squad Battle this year to impress dear old dad. But then again, he’d definitely broken at least two rules by leaving the formation and coming down here to find you, so maybe he cares more than you think.

You finally make it out of the woods and into a clearing where you see Cosa and Cath sitting side by side, waiting for you. You make a tiny nod of acknowledgment to Cath, a silent gesture of thanks for letting his rider land to come find you.

“I apologize, graceful one. You handled that as well as anyone could.”

You give her a half-hearted response, scaling her leg to get back in the saddle. Muscle memory takes over for the rest of the class, with Cosa doing most of the work and keeping her distance from Claidh. You’re just glad to be back on the ground, solid rock beneath your boots.

Cath lands beside her, Dain climbing down his leg easily and taking a step toward you, but someone else gets there first; Bodhi.

He nearly crushes you in a hug. “We all thought you were dead,” he breathes, holding you tightly. “That must have been a thousand feet… how did you survive that?”

You manage a smile, hugging him back. “I’m very much alive,” you promise. “I think my signet came in at the exact right time — it did something to cushion my fall.”

A few more of your friends have realized you’d made it through, running over to check on you and pull you into warm embraces, grateful you’re okay.

“That must have been terrifying,” your friend empathizes.

“Oh, yeah. I was totally freaked, but…” You look over your shoulder, but Dain is already gone.

————————————————————————

“What’s today’s not-required reading?” Bodhi asks as he settles into the seat next to you.

“Advanced Physics of Flight,” you answer, your eyes flicking back and forth over the lines of text. “I borrowed it from Xay, but he needs it back after lunch, so I have to read fast. I’m halfway done, but it’s getting complicated.”

“You’re going to read that entire thing by noon?” Dain asks, raising an eyebrow. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Bodhi answers for you. He slides the book away from you, flipping back a good thirty pages and handing it to Dain. “Read the first sentence aloud.”

Dain looks confused, but complies. “Understanding the motion of air around an object (often called a flow field) enables the calculation of forces and moments acting on the object.”

It takes you a second to jump in, reciting the following sentences. “In many aerodynamics problems, the forces of interest are the fundamental forces of flight: lift, drag, thrust, and weight. Of these, lift and drag are aerodynamic forces, i.e. forces due to air flow over a solid body. Calculation of these quantities is often founded upon the assumption that the flow field behaves as a continuum. Continuum flow fields are characterized by properties such as flow velocity, pressure, density, and temperature, which may be functions of position and time. These properties may be directly or indirectly measured in aerodynamics experiments or calculated starting with the equations for conservation of mass, momentum, and energy in air flows. Density, flow velocity, and an additional property, viscosity, are used to classify flow fields,” you finish. “Can I have that back now?”

He hands it back to you, visibly confused. “How did you…”

“I’ve been able to do this since I was a kid. I’m just reading from the picture of the page in my mind,” you explain, already working on committing the next page to memory.

“Huh?”

“I’ve learned not to question it,” Bodhi says. “But basically, she doesn’t forget anything, ever.”

“Not true,” you counter. “I can only do it with written words, not anything else. And I have to do it intentionally, or it won’t work.”

“That’s cool, but why are you memorizing a textbook you won’t need until next year?” Sawyer asks.

“I’m trying to figure out how to make Cosa and I more aerodynamic with my wind-wielding, and what all I can do with it, since Carr is absolutely zero help.”

“Understatement of the century,” your friend scoffs. “He hasn’t spoken to me once in the last two weeks. He only cares about the signets he finds interesting, and everyone else can just go fuck off and die, or figure it out on their own.”

The conversation comes to a halt as Professor Devera enters the classroom, beginning her presentation. You close the physics book, taking out a pen and paper for notes — time to see what lies they’ve come up with for you today.

————————————————————————

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cosa asks.

“Yes,” you answer, tightening the strap of your goggles and checking that all of your weapons are secure.

“See you on the ground, then.”

You loosen your grip on her slowly, willing yourself to take deep breaths as you feel the control slipping away, the wind taking over. You’re falling, falling… and then you’re floating again, your body relaxing into the air as it rushes up to meet you, cushioning your fall.

You land gracefully on both feet with a small gust of wind, several beautifully-colored autumn leaves swirling around you. You giggle in delight, stirring them up with your finger and watching them flutter around your feet.

“Perfectly done,” Cosa praises, landing behind you.

Dain blinks at you, lips parted in shock. “What…”

You give him a bright smile, removing your goggles and letting them hang around your neck. “I’m fine. It doesn’t scare me anymore — I’ve been practicing.”

Something shifts in the air. “Practicing?” he echoes, incredulous. “What did you do, jump off the parapet?”

You don’t deny it.

His jaw drops. “Are you out of your mind?”

Your smile fades immediately. You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. “How else was I supposed to get over my fear of heights?”

“By doing literally anything else other than jumping off a hundred-foot-tall bridge over a river with giant rocks at the bottom? You could have died!”

“Clearly I didn’t,” you huff, the wind blowing a little stronger now, sending the fallen leaves skittering across the flight field. “I didn’t get a single scratch either time.”

“Either? You did it twice?”

“I had to make sure the first time wasn’t a fluke. I would have done it three times, if there weren’t so many stairs to get up there.”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation — if he doesn’t take a moment to steady himself, he’s going to say something he regrets.

You continue to defend yourself. “If something like that happens again, I need to be able to handle it. And they aren’t teaching us shit besides keep your seat and don’t fall, so I took matters into my own hands.”

He sighs. You have a point, even if your methods were incredibly dangerous. “I’m glad you conquered your fear. Just please don’t do that again?” he asks quietly. “Not unless you absolutely have to?”

You’re taken aback by the hurt in his voice, the same look in his eyes you’d seen when he’d found you in the forest earlier this week. You’re hit with a wave of guilt as you realize that you’d scared him, that his anger is really just fear — fear of losing you, the closest thing he has to a friend in this school, even if you butt heads sometimes.

“Okay,” you agree quietly. “Not unless I absolutely have to.”

He’ll take that. “Thank you.”

“Are you coming to dinner, or what?” your friend calls across the field, impatient.

“In a second!” you shout back. You look back at Cosa, patting her leg. “See you tomorrow, Co.”

“Until tomorrow,” she replies. “I’m proud of you. Now run along.”

You beam at the praise, thanking her before jogging off toward your friends.

Dain stands there for a moment, watching as the leaves flutter to the ground, laying still. They’d been something beautiful when you’d played with them, laughing as they danced around you on the breeze you’d stirred up, but now they’re just dead leaves, crunching under his boots as he walks across the flight field back toward the school building.

#dain and love #dain aetos #fourth wing #dain aetos x reader #fourth wing x reader

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regressionschool · 2 days

Text

Getting laid

In the dimly lit living room of the frat house, the smell of pizza and stale beer lingered in the air. The walls were adorned with posters of rock bands and scantily clad women, typical decor for a fraternity. Two frat boys, Jack and Mike, lounged on the worn-out couch, half-empty beer cans in their hands.

"You just need to get laid, dude," Jack said, a smirk on his face. He took a swig from his beer can, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, easier said than done. Did you see how Professor Collins looked at me today? Like I was some kind of bug she wanted to squash."

Jack laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the room. "That old hag? She’s just mad because no one wants to bang her. I mean, have you seen her? She’s got that permanent scowl."

"Yeah, true," Mike agreed, his voice dripping with disdain. "But did you catch a glimpse of Sarah in class? Man, those tits... they’re like... gigantic. I can’t even focus when she’s around."

Jack nodded, his eyes gleaming. "I know, right? It’s like she’s got a couple of melons under her shirt. She probably uses them to get what she wants. You know how girls are."

Mike snorted. "Yeah, always playing the game."

Jack leaned back, his gaze turning thoughtful. "You know, we could always mess with her a bit. She needs to be taken down a peg or two."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Jack’s smirk widened. "You’ll see. Just follow my lead."

As the two boys plotted, they didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway, a small, discreet smile playing on her lips. Professor Collins had overheard their entire conversation, and she had plans of her own.

A few evenings later, the frat house was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking bottles. Jack and Mike moved through the crowded rooms with a sense of purpose. Their mission was clear: get laid. The air was thick with the smell of cheap cologne and sweat, mingling with the ever-present scent of pizza and beer.

Jack nudged Mike, pointing to a group of girls by the makeshift bar. "Target acquired," he muttered, a sly grin on his face.

The two boys sauntered over, their swagger exaggerated by the alcohol coursing through their veins. "Hey ladies," Jack said, leaning against the counter with what he thought was a charming smile. "You girls look like you could use some company."

One of the girls, a petite brunette, rolled her eyes. "We’re fine, thanks."

Undeterred, Mike leaned in closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re just trying to have a good time. How about a dance?"

The girls exchanged glances, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe later," one of them said dismissively, turning her back to the boys.

Jack scowled, but before he could say anything more, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Sarah, the girl with the 'gigantic tits' they had ogled in class, smiling at him.

"Hey, Jack. Hey, Mike," Sarah said, her tone warm and inviting. "Enjoying the party?"

Jack’s eyes lit up. "Sarah! Yeah, it’s great. How about you?"

"I’m having a good time," she replied, her smile widening. "In fact, my roommates and I are throwing an after-party at our place. You guys should come."

Mike’s eyes widened with excitement. "Seriously? We’d love to."

Sarah laughed, a sweet, melodic sound. "Great! Let’s get a taxi."

The boys followed her outside, practically tripping over themselves in their eagerness. They piled into a taxi, squeezing in beside Sarah, who gave the driver her address.

As the taxi sped through the city streets, Jack and Mike exchanged triumphant glances. This was their chance. They were sure of it.