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nagdabbit · 2 years

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a song that will dig into my bones (4/?)

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Five

words: 2.9k

jon moxley/bryan danielson, eddie kingston

(only slightly edited from the snippets that have already been posted. the day i run out of stuff to post and actually have to wait on myself to write is gonna suck for me)

also on ao3

It took him a couple weeks—a month and a half, maybe—to even notice. It didn't feel new, not really. It felt like a piece slotting into place. But even that wasn't quite right. Bryan didn't feel out of place in the shop to begin with. He didn't feel like an interloper, an intruder. Not to Jon. He barely noticed the change because it felt right to have Bryan there.

Much like the rest of Jon's merry band of babysitters, Bryan tended to show up unannounced. Wandering through the alley door some Saturday afternoons, showing up with coffee and rolls on a random Thursday morning. He'd just sort-of appear in the shop, like he worked there or maybe never really left, already futzing with his calendar and looking through orders without even needing to be asked.

It was kinda nice.

He didn't loudly announce his presence, not after the first time. Hell, sometimes Jon didn't even realize he was there, not until he forcibly pulled Jon's chair away from the desk and thrust a sandwich into his hands.

He was quiet, where Eddie was loud, and was a little stoic, where Wheeler was all enthusiasm and sunshine. But he wasn't disruptive, not in any real way. He didn't try and change Jon's routines, didn't get in his way—deliberately or otherwise. He was a quiet kind of comfortable to be around.

Not that he couldn't be a shit-stirring little prick when he wanted. He absolutely could be, and he seemed to relish in it. But he tended to save that for people who weren't Jon.

Like Eddie, for example. Eddie was fair game.

He heard bickering before it really registered to him that he was listening to people. Familiar people, at that.

One voice was snotty and condescending, the other brash and gravelly, both of them growing louder by the second. He shoved his glasses up onto his head and pushed away from his desk, ambling toward the doorway. He trusted the poultice to do its job, because apparently he couldn't trust either of them to.

He found Bryan perched on the counter next to the register, calmly pretending to read, while Eddie was pacing as he absently sorted the carts into some kind of order. They were bickering, loudly, about the audacity of Bryan to bring his smug fuckin' face out here where he wasn't wanted.

Jon rolled his eyes and interrupted, dryly, "If you two are done, I got shit that needs shelving."

"Yeah, Kingston, get to work," Bryan snipped and went back to his book. The fucking brat. He wasn't even reading, he was just staring at the page for the sake of pissing Eddie off.

"Nope, you take classics," Jon announced, snatching the book from his hands. It was a ratty thing, something that had been brought in a few days before. A well-loved book on rooftop gardens. He'd kept it under the desk, thinking it might be useful one day, when he had the time to do anything with the empty rooftop upstairs. Not that he could keep any kind of plant alive, but he was willing to try. "C'mon, move your ass."

Bryan narrowed his eyes, "Who'll watch the register?"

"You got a good vantage from classics, and you'll hear the bell." Jon rolled his eyes and shoved Bryan off his perch. "C'mon, off you go, stop being a dick."

"I'm taking my break," he argued, but—didn't actually push back, he willingly went where Jon pushed him. Even Wheeler liked to fight back, sometimes.

Eddie squawked out a laugh from the other side of the store, "Ha! He still thinks he gets breaks!"

"He's right, breaks are for employees only." He gave Bryan a shit eating grin, just because he'd kinda been caught. Bryan was stuck, now. Had his own little home-away-from-home there, in the stacks. He couldn't back out, even if he thought Jon's jokes were stupid.

Bryan grumbled and narrowed us eyes, "You're buying lunch."

"Sure, sure. Gotta earn that, though."

"Don't make shelves these out of order," Bryan threatened, claiming his own cart to drag off into the books. "I'll do it, too!"

"Just because you're not an employee don't mean I won't still fire you." It was a weak threat, but it made Bryan's lips twitch upward.

"I hear Barnes & Noble is hiring," Bryan shot back, unable to hide his small, sharp grin. "I hear they've at least got a benefits plan."

Jon pressed a hand to his heart, gave Bryan the most obnoxiously wounded look he could manage. "Words hurt, Bry."

He scoffed, but he still wore one of those little, smirking grins.

Eddie, when Jon turned to go back to work, looked disgusted. He raised his eyebrows at Jon, mouthing, "Bry?" at him.

Jon shrugged at him, because even he didn't know where that came from. Eddie grimaced and flapped a hand at him, waving back toward his work.

Yeah, not a thing was out of place.

They didn't bicker loud enough to distract him, which was thoughtful of them. They still shot the occasional insult across the store—not that Jon really thought they’d actually stop—but they traded off customers without needing to argue about it, so Jon figured that was all the cooperation they were capable of. Besides, it was a funny soundtrack to have. All that squabbling.

When he'd got the call—that Mr. B was gone, that he'd left the shop to Jon, of all fucking people—and moved back, the place had been eerie and silent. It had been awhile since Mr. B was able to spend long days working, and the place showed it. It was fucking—awful. None of that warmth that Jon remembered. Just a cavernous shell of what it had been, enough space of all his guilt and shame to echo around in.

Now it was filled with laughter. Even when no one was there with him, it didn't feel empty or lonely or cold.

He liked to think Mr. B would've been proud of him, what he made of the place. Hoped he would be, anyway.

Bryan startled him out of his work, a hand heavy on his shoulder. "Hey, c'mon, come see some sunlight," he murmured, giving Jon a small smile. "I got lunch."

His eyes were—nice. Pretty blue, little slivers of gold. Still unnerving as all shit, but pretty. "Uh. I'm kinda busy."

"Uh huh, and it's 3 in the afternoon," Bryan said, dryly. "You haven't moved in at least four hours."

"So I haven't burned any calories," Jon argued, forcing himself to look away before he got distracted. It was always overwhelming, meeting Bryan's gaze. "Gimme twenty minutes."

"Nah, I will get a spray bottle, Mox, I swear to god," Eddie grumbled, and shoved Bryan out of the way. He gripped the back of Jon's chair and rolled him backwards out of the room. "It'll keep for twenty minutes."

"You don't know that."

"Nah, but I know you, and you wouldn't be letting me do this if it wasn't true." He paused long enough to smack Jon across the back of the head, then continued his trek. "So tough tits. It's time for lunch."

"You know, most people respond better to classical conditioning, than insults and force," Bryan mused, following along behind them. He had some of those stupid, infuriating look on his face. All kinda smug, full of silent laughter.

"You met this guy?" Eddie scoffed, "He ain't most people."

Bryan's expression widened into a smile, "Yeah, I know."

Jon was kinda getting used to that smile.

Eddie grumbled something under his breath and shoved Jon and his rolly chair into the space behind the counter. There was a whole break room and office in the building, but they never really used either of those for anything but storage. They all pieced together a much nicer space to sit and eat together.

There was a ratty, roadkill armchair Wheeler had dragged in one morning, way back when he'd still been just a part-timer, coming in between training and school. He found it on the way over, one of the many treasures left out of the sidewalk as students moved out at the start of summer. A week later, Eddie had added a small end table.

It kept on after that. There were easy chairs in the kids' section he'd set up, a few roadkill couches hidden in quiet corners, stools and desks hidden throughout the place. There was a stolen park bench Wheeler refused to give the story on, tucked away by the comics. Jon got the feeling it might've been mostly Chuck and Jim's fault, but Wheeler wasn't giving up anything. But there were a few stolen barstools, too, that Eddie refused to own up to.

And each one of them had been refinished and reupholstered by Jon himself. Because he'd learn any fucking new skill to avoid being the one who had to make smalltalk with customers.

It made the place cozy. Lived in.

Eddie paused long enough to yanked the broken glasses off of Jon's face and drop them into the trashcan, then threw himself down into his new favorite spot, the cushy wingback Wheeler had brought in just a couple months before. Bryan chose the armchair to Jon's right. It wasn't a real comfy thing, but the seat was wide enough for Bryan to tuck his feet up under himself like he felt at home.

"I can't believe you're makin' me eat your fuckin' vegan shit," Eddie groused, glowering at the wrapped bundle Bryan tossed to him. "I get enough a'that shit from Ethan, man."

"You could've bought your own lunch," Bryan said, reasonably. Jon may have struggled to read people at the best of times, but he'd learn how to recognize Bryan's own brand of glee. Lips turned up to one said, eyes crinkling at the corners, gaze intent as he watched for the pay off of whatever he was trying to pull. "I asked if you had a preference."

Eddie just gave him a dry look. "Don't do that. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you hid a fuckin' dog biscuit in here or some shit." He poked at the package, like he thought it might attack, but hunger won out.

Jon's own sandwich was close enough to fried chicken that it didn't bother him too much. Texture wasn't quite right, and it didn't really taste like chicken, but—it was fine. Eddie kept watching him, between trading barbs with Bryan, like he thought Jon might have a real problem with it. Admittedly, he wasn't adventurous when it came to food, but—it could've been worse. At least there was nothing on it that he didn't know the name of.

If Bryan caught anything, he didn't say. Had it been the other way around, Eddie with his weird food hangups, he'd have needled just a little. Just because it was Eddie. Jon, though, seemed to be off-limits.

Jon relaxed and let their heated bickering wash over him. Mused on what he could do, in-between projects. There was an estate sale, out about halfway to Pittsburgh. The auctioneer called Jon up any time he had a seller with a lot of books. He had some special orders he should get to finding, rare books that didn’t usually wander into his hands without a lot of effort on his part. He needed to restock his supplies, too, before he ran out. Maybe, finally, think about writing up a new ad and getting someone hired. It’d make Wheeler relax, at least.

He tuned back in at a lull in their sparring match. Bryan was studying Jon, expectantly. Like he'd said something that hadn't been heard. Eddie was frowning, brow pulled low, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"Uh, yeah?"

Bryan's lip twitched, "I asked if you'd be working late tonight."

"Oh, ah. No." He willed down the heat in his cheeks, as much as he could. "Not, too late."

"So I should drag you out before midnight," Bryan joked.

He didn't know what Eddie was seeing, as he looked between them, but he seemed more grossed out than genuinely angry. He was territorial at the best of times, but this was different. Felt different, even to Jon.

Eddie seemed to find whatever he was looking for, and rolled his eyes. "Alright, I know when m'the third wheel," he grumbled, and threw his balled up trash at Bryan's face as he stood. He hooked a hand around the back of Jon's neck and smacked a kiss to his forehead, just like he always did. "M'gonna go bother Yoots, I'll see you tomorrow, Moxie. Danielson, see you fuckin' never."

"What, I don't get a goodbye kiss?"

"Not until they make a vaccine for whatever flavor of jackass you got. I ain't lookin' to catch anything from you." He gave Jon another of those raised-eyebrows-pursed-lips-head-tilt looks, before he turned and made his way out of the shop.

"One day I'll be friends with him," Bryan murmured, thoughtfully, as he watched over the counter as Eddie ambled off down the sidewalk.

Jon snorted before he could stop himself. "No, you won't."

"No, I won't, but it'll be funny to annoy him with attempted friendship." Shit-stirring pick. Jon was starting to enjoy having Bryan around so often. He glanced back at Jon, his gaze still so intent. Like being under a microscope.

He looked away, trying to ease that little itch of discomfort. If he could figure out where he took his many spare pairs of glasses were, he'd have something to hide behind.

"You don't actually like eye contact, do you?"

Jon shook his head, "I hate it. I get the point of it, but it's—it's a lotta things."

He watched Bryan tilted his head a little, like one of those confused dogs. Trying to parse Jon's words. "There are a lot of reasons, you mean?"

"No, I mean—it's a lot. Eye contact. It's overwhelming, I guess."

Bryan hummed a little. "How so?"

"You know when you've got an itchy tag on your shirt?" he asked, thinking back on how he'd explained it to Eddie once, years before. "And it's just kinda overwhelming? Like it's the only thing you can feel. Like you can hear it, it's so itchy. Takes up all the room you got in your head, all your senses kinda dampened."

Bryan hummed again. He nodded at Jon, one of those encouraging kinda ones that Wheeler sometimes used on him. "And eye contact is like that? Loud and itchy?"

"Yeah. It's fine, sometimes. Doesn't itch as much if m'angry. Guess the angers a little distracting, or something." He huffed out some kind of chuckle, "That's probably not normal."

"There's other words for it, but—it's not not normal."

He felt himself make a face and gave Bryan a bland look. "You know, talkin' in riddles is even less helpful than you think it is."

"I'm not trying to be helpful," Bryan snipped back, swatting at Jon's shoulder as he stood and stretched. "I'm just trying to get to know you again."

And that was—something, wasn't it? They hadn't exactly been close, back in the day. They could work together just fine, they could hold a conversation, could stand to travel together if they got stuck riding to the next city together. But Jon didn't always offer a whole lot of himself up, and he didn't remember Bryan ever pushing. He could weasel out all kinds of information and secrets without his target realizing, he was a fucking tactician in and out of the ring. But he'd never tried that shit on Jon.

Must've been something to that. Must've been a reason. Maybe he just hadn't been interesting enough to hold Bryan's attention. At least, not until he'd disappeared. Then he'd been a mystery, a puzzle to pick apart and solve.

And maybe he wasn't giving Bryan enough credit; he hadn't, exactly, gone out of his way to get to know the man either. He could theorize about Bryan's motivations all day long, but that's all they'd be: theories.

"So," he began, pulling Jon out of his thoughts. "I've just been making you extremely uncomfortable every single time I try and talk to you, huh?"

He shrugged, "It's my hangup. Not like you knew."

"But I should've noticed sooner. And, Jon, physical discomfort isn't just a hangup. A hangup is—no, whatever, that doesn't matter. I'm not lecturing you." Bryan sighed, and gently kicked his foot against Jon's. "Next time something… itches like that, tell me."

"S'fine. It isn't like it's life-threatening, or anything like that." He shrugged again, struggling to sort through the words in his head. "It's—the feeling is bad, sure, but the situation isn't always. Getting itchy doesn't mean the conversation we're having is."

"But you're still itchy," Bryan countered, leaning against the counter. "You know you're allowed to feel comfortable, right?"

He frowned. "I am comfortable."

"Are you?" He didn't sound judgmental, but Jon had never been good at reading tone. "Are you comfortable? Or are you just so used to the discomfort that you've forgotten what it actually feels like?"

Which—well.

"Maybe it's not my place to say anything, but you don't have to suffer," Bryan said, his voice low and gentle and warm. He didn't push any further, though. He reached into the drawer, just to the left of the register, and handed Jon an unbroken pair of readers from within. He smiled, just a little quirk of his lips, and wandered away to keep shelving.

#why use drugs when you can used books #moxbry #aew fic #aew fanfiction #jon moxley #bryan danielson #eddie kingston

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theexperienceofaging · 3 months

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A WAY OF ENDING

Familiarity can be comforting and also imprisoning. During the three years of Covid isolation I had become used to mostly staying in my familiar home, my familiar living room, my familiar porch. Coming to a Continuing Care Community at age 88 upended all that. Now I was in a new space, much less space, new people—all old and lots of them—new routines. At first I felt quite lost. Where now was my “home?” I grieved my old life as thin as it had become in those three years and my beloved home with its view of an Audubon preserve. Would there ever be a home again? When I saw friends from the “outside”, I was so grateful for their familiarity. We knew each other. I knew what we loved to talk about, I knew what we found funny, I knew what activities we enjoyed together and most importantly, I knew they cared about me and I cared about them.

Here I walked down long halls, took elevators. Many people smiled and said hello and introduced themselves but I didn’t know any of them. The Staff were wonderful. Your light is broken? Someone comes and fixes it. You’ve lost weight and your pants need to be taken in? There’s a seamstress who comes every two weeks. And I didn’t have to cook, except for breakfast. I haven’t had that level of caretaking since my mother changed my diapers and put a bottle in my mouth when I cried. I appreciated all this but a deeper level of acceptance and knowing were still absent. It wasn’t “home.” This was the beginning of a kind of transition I had never experienced before. A few months passed. I was observing and learning about this new land and culture I had landed in. In looking back, I realized that after the years of Covid let up, I had little energy to create a new life and the comforting familiarity had become turgid and stagnant. But here, I simply have to walk down the hall and take an elevator to have a new life. There is a choice of activities. The poetry and writing class stir me to to think newer thoughts. The art class starts me on a new skill. Talking to so many new people is stimulating and exhausting. The game of “getting to know you” is often repetitive and superficial. Where did you come from? What did you do? Some political talk since the majority of residents are liberal and we sing in the same choir. Bad days consist of talk about the quality of the food, the usual weather comments, how the place used to be and other subjects of little interest. Good days -a lot of friendliness and feeling a part of a yet unknown community and beginning to feel sparks of connection. It begins to feel like a small town or village where spoken or unspoken there is the deeper knowledge that this is the final chapter. Physical disabilities are talked about in an open and accepting way; everyone has something wrong with them. “What did you say?” is the mantra. We are all in the anteroom of death and friendships literally die. There is some acknowledgment of this; it’s not deeply engaged but it is a constant silent knowing.

I begin to have a sense of who I connect more easily with, offering the possibility of a deeper friendship. And who I enjoy in limited but pleasurable ways and who I avoid. I realize how deeply I have wanted community. This might not be the utopia I would have wanted but I feel grateful that I have the means to be taken care of in a place that strives to make these last years safer, easier, stimulating. Isolation is the new plague and I have been granted the embrace of a community with all its gifts and flaws to continue my life, pursue meaning and pleasure and be surprised by what can arise from one day to the next. I am feeling that I have a place here; I am part of the community and that steadies me. Life now offers possibility. I had forgotten there was possibilty. It could be the end any day or any month or year but as long as it isn’t there’s more life to be lived.

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matbaerzal · 3 years

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Like This Pt.1 | T. Jost

Summary: Tyson is the best roommate you could ask for, you can't imagine ever living with someone else... no- no not like that, your relationship is purely platonic! > (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) A/N: First fic of the year hafsjkhf.... The reader studies Special Education, which will play a small part throughout this fic. Warnings: A short mention of sexual dreams Reader pronouns: she/her Words: 2,4K Tagging: @konecny-s @vitekvanecek @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @ricohenrique @notaccurateornice @tysojost @justjosty ... lmk if you want to be tagged ❤️

As you reach the door to your apartment you shift your second grocery bag into your left hand before fishing your keys out of your pocket. You hurry to turn the key in your lock as your arms are tired from the heavy weight of the amount of food you’d bought. You huff out as you open the door, absent-mindedly throwing the keys on the side table as you set the groceries down on the floor.

“I’m sorry, can you give me a minute?” you hear Tyson speak as you take off your coat and shoes. In the corner of your eye, you see him put his phone down before pushing his chair back, standing up, and walking over.

“Hey, how was work?”

You huff out a breath in reply, and when you see him grab the groceries you almost try to object, but relief washes over you before you can. You follow him to the kitchen with the intent to sort the food so he can get back to what he was doing, but he brushes you away.

“Go sit down - relax” he gives you a pointed look.

“Thanks” you smile, hesitantly making your way to the couch.

“You hungry?” he speaks over his shoulder as you sit down.

“Very” your stomach grumbles as if on cue.

“I made some dinner earlier, want me to heat it up for you?”

“Don’t you have an interview” you shout back.

“Eh, they can wait” he shrugs

Without waiting for you to reply he takes out the tupperware from the fridge before putting it in the microwave. Once it’s heated up he brings it over to you, along with a glass of water before he gets back to his interview, apologizing profusely to the journalist on the other end of the call for keeping them waiting.

Living with Tyson had its ups and downs, but all in all the two of you fit together well as roommates. You’d met him during his first year in Colorado, back then you were living on campus. You’d planned to move in with a friend of yours, but after she graduated she got a job offer in another state and decided to move, leaving you practically homeless as there was no way you’d be able to afford to live on your own at the time - and there was no chance that you were ever moving in with your dorm room roommate again. Tyson offered for you to stay with him for at least a little bit until you figured things out. Then he realized he really liked having you around. You’d hesitated, thinking he was just trying to be nice, before he practically begged you to stay.

Hundreds of comments from friends asking if you’re dating or having sex later, you’re still living with him - not dating, not having sex, never even having kissed, and neither of you wanted to cross that line. With the way you and Tyson clicked, there were a lot of people who had trouble believing you were just friends, but at this point, you felt like you knew each other too well. All your dirty laundry had been aired out between the two of you - both literally and figuratively. The smell of his week-old workout sweat in the laundry room was enough to put you off. It wouldn’t be fair to say it hadn’t crossed your mind though. Objectively he is very attractive - you can’t deny that - perhaps, maybe your mind traveled places as he walked out of the bathroom after a shower with only a towel wrapped around him. You knew for a fact that he’d thought about you too, having drunkenly admitted to you that he had a dream about you once - which explained that one morning where he wouldn’t meet your eye and couldn’t have gotten out of the door quicker.

But neither of you ever acted on your attraction, it was pushed into the back of your minds - ignored completely. Because that’s all it was, an attraction, and nothing more.

You watch him as he continues his interview, zoning out as you eat your food. You hear every tone of his voice, completely focused on him but at the same time not registering a single thing he’s saying. It’s only when he looks over at you that you’re shaken out of it.

“Is it alright?” he whispers, covering the microphone.

You shake your head as you're brought back to the real world, it takes your brain a few seconds to catch what he said and your cheeks feel warm as he chuckles - “Hm?”

“The food? Is it alright?”

“Mm, yeah” you take another bite, resting the fork in the food container as you reach for the TV remote to distract yourself.

You’d been swamped with work lately, between your studies and your part-time job as a teaching assistant, you barely had time to take a breather. Your third year studying Special Education at the University of Denver was hectic, any time not spent at work or on campus or studying at home was spent either eating or sleeping in your bed. Tyson could see how tired you were whenever you came home, he always cooked a little extra for his dinner so you wouldn’t go to bed without eating first. His mediocre pasta meals always tasted like heaven after the long days you had.

By the time Tyson plops down on the couch you’re finished eating and zoned out on an episode of New Girl.

“Do you have any plans on Sunday?” he asks and you shake your head - “just studying, writing”.

“Wanna come to the game? I completely get it if you just want to stay in-”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to” you perk up, you hadn’t been to a game in who knows how long and you’d put aside your assignments at least for a little while if Tyson ever asked you to. He never had to ask before, you’d come whenever you had time, but it’d been seven weeks now - Tyson kept count.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Tys, really” you pat his thigh - keeping your hand there a touch longer before removing it when you meet his soft eyes.

You wake up late on Sunday, head stuck to the pillow, body hesitant to leave the bed. You’d already woken up once and decided to sleep longer so you force yourself out of bed, put some clothes on and go to the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal. Just as you get the milk from the fridge your apartment door opens, signaling that Tyson’s home from his morning skate.

“Good morning” he smirks at you, his eyes running over your thrown-together outfit and noting the remnant of sleep in your eyes.

You nod, trying to speak through the mouthful you just took, making Tyson squint his eyes in a laugh. He waits patiently for you to finish so you can repeat your question to him - “how was the skate?”

“It was alright, easily gonna have a nap after I eat though”

“Want some cereal?” you arch your brow. He stops and thinks for a second, contemplating if he should say yes, or make his usual scrambled eggs - “you know what? Yeah” he decides. You raise your brows at him, about to make a comment but he interrupts you. “Yeah, yeah pour me a bowl before I change my mind”.

You hold your hands up - “wasn’t gonna say anything” you try, but he doesn’t look convinced. You rush to get him a bowl and a spoon, setting them down for him, pouring in some cereal as he comes over to sit next to you on your kitchen island. He pours the milk himself before lifting the bowl to clink against yours, muttering “cheers” before taking a spoonful into his mouth.

You sit in comfortable silence as you eat your food, moving around each other as you put the bowls in the sink to worry about later. You walk to the couch and open your laptop to get some work done before you have to get ready for the game.

“Do you ever take a break?” Tyson yawns, laying down on the couch next to you, his head landing on a pillow close by your thighs.

You figure his questions rhetorical, but his eyes stay on you as you start typing away on your essay. “I’m taking a break later, y’know, at the game”

“No, I mean like a real break, like flat out on the couch, books closed-”

“You’re funny”

“I’m serious”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have time for breaks Tys”

He goes quiet after that, a thoughtful look on his face as he settles into the couch, your eyes linger on him for a moment before you go back to writing your essay. It doesn’t take long for his breath to get heavy, the small snores escaping him making you smile. As you skim through an article you might use for your essay your free hand finds his hair - his curls too soft to resist running your hand through. His snoring stops as your hand first makes contact making you freeze, but he’s nuzzling into the pillow and snoring again before you know it.

Even after you’ve read the article your hand stays in his hair and you do your best to type with one hand, only opting to use your right hand when absolutely necessary. You were in tweaking stages so luckily you could keep one hand planted in his hair most of the time. You’re checking the clock here and there, knowing he didn’t set an alarm and that he didn’t like napping too long on game days, but just as you’re about to wake him he leans into your touch, eyes slowly blinking open as he hums, absentmindedly you brush his hair away from his forehead - “sleep well?”

“Like a baby” he smiles, “what time is it?”

“uh, two-thirty” you glance over at the little clock on your computer.

He leans into your hand one more time as if to savor the feel before he starts to get up, once on his feet he stretches his arms above his head, you can’t help but look as his t-shirt lifts to reveal his stomach, but you avert your eyes quickly and hope he doesn’t notice. If he did, he doesn’t comment, “want me to make dinner for you too?” he throws the words your way over his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. “What’s on the menu?” you tease, fully well knowing the answer, even saying it with him once he replies - “chicken and pasta”.

You turn your head to look at him, and he can’t bring himself to be annoyed at you when you smirk at him.

“Yeah, yeah” he brushes you off - “do you want some or no?”

“Yes, please” you smile.

He quickly makes the food, the recipe burned into his brain from making it time after time. He puts a little extra cheese on your plate, coming over to the couch with both plates once he’s done. You close your computer, place it to the side, and take the plate he hands to you with ease. Once your plates are scraped it’s time for Tyson to get ready, change into his suit and leave for the arena.

He walks out of his room wearing one of his three-piece suits and if you didn’t have the restraint you’d built up over the time you’d lived with him you’re sure you would’ve drooled at the sight. You’d think he was doing it on purpose, but you’d never let your weakness for the vest-jacket pairing slip, and he looks oblivious as he meets your eyes. The little spin he does for you does nothing to help and you have to give yourself credit for being so collected when he raises his brows as if to ask: “Is this alright?”.

“Looking good, Tys. I’ll see you after the game” you get off the couch as you speak and give him a quick hug, his phone pinging with a message signaling that JT is waiting for him downstairs as you break away.

“See you later,” he says.

“Kick some Dallas butt.”

He laughs as he walks through the door leaving you to yourself. You don’t wait long until you start getting ready yourself, not being able to focus on your writing with the anticipation of the game in the back of your mind. You put your lucky Avalance hoodie on, grabbing your coat before leaving with more than enough time to catch the warm-ups. There’s a couple of familiar faces there when you arrive. You’d met the players’ girlfriends a few times, mostly in this exact setting and you fell right back into the group again. You felt for them, having to watch their boyfriends play such an unpredictable sport. You guess you could imagine how it felt at least a little, living with Tyson and all, but the energy they brought to every game was admirable.

The game was tight, the boys fell behind in the first period but in the second and third they were no doubt the better team, but the puck just wouldn’t go in the net. With ten minutes left they manage to tie it and with 5 minutes left Tyson takes a tripping penalty. They killed the penalty and scored not long after to secure the win, but you could see Tyson beating himself up over the penalty that could’ve cost them the game. The look on his face as he sat in the penalty box is something you keep in the back of your mind as you leave with the girls to meet him.

He’s one of the first ones to come out of the locker rooms, head hanging low. Gabe pats him on the shoulder before he greets his wife, Tyson throws a forced smile towards his captain that seems genuine to anyone that doesn’t know him the way you do. The smile reaches his eyes once he sees you though and he drapes his arm over your shoulder when he reaches you, leading you towards the garage - “Let’s go home”

To be continued...

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #nhl imagine #op:w #nhl fic

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

Note

ooo okay so a James Potter x reader soulmate au where they feel each others pain, and she has a suspicion he's her soulmate but it's confirmed when he falls off his broom, and she hates him being her soulmate because he's in love with lily, but he says that lily doesn't matter anymore blah blah, and she says she first thought it was him when he fell of a bench in the great hall or something after confessing his love for lily in front of the entire school (1)

‘all along that they were soulmates but she tells him its really inconsiderate for being so obvious about his love for lily when he knew he had a soulmate and he feels really guilty and tries to make it up for her and yeah fluff ending please :)’

the painful soulmate

james potter x fem!reader

summary: in a world where you can feel your soulmates pain; your soulmate happens to think someone else is his soulmate

word count: 2.2k

warning: swearing, mentions of verbally abusing someone, mentions of beating people up, injuries; falling in the air, cracked ribs, tripping, face planting. joking name calling, kissing, angst, soulmate au, insinuation of unrequited love, fluff ending

by the age of 16 you and every other witch along with wizard were given a particular... gift. you wouldn’t consider it a gift, more like your worse fucking nightmare but you could squeal and pretend to be all dainty and excited about meeting your soulmate.

i mean why not give someone a choice on who they wanted to love? this wasn’t a game of spin the bottle this was forever.

being the only female in your friend group, made all the boys amongst you ridiculously pry into your privacy. wanting to know who they had to verbally torture considering they would scoop up the ‘precious little baby-girl’ of the group.

coming directly from the drama queen himself; sirius black. it’s not like they could beat up your partner because you would be able to feel his or her pain as-well.

you were sat in the marauders dorm absently playing with your fingers while looking at each of your mates, sirius and remus attempted to finish their plans on a new prank for the newest defence against the dark arts teacher, james sat at his desk table writing up ways to ask lily more dramatically than the last and peter had been figuring out his transfiguration homework from a few days prior.

“prongs, if you know she’s gonna say no, then why ask?” remus questioned not even looked at the sapphire-eyed boy. his only logic being, ‘well ill turn her no into a yes.’ as if coercion was the way to go.

the brunette sat at the table swiftly turning his head in the lyncanthropes direction, his spectacles almost falling down his nose from the quick snap of his head. “well, lily-pad has always said, ‘not in a million years!’ but that means after a million years she’d go out with me.” finishing his speech with a small grin.

the rest of the group on the other hand looked at him dumbfounded. eyebrows either scrunched or furrowed, “james m’afraid that’s not how it works.” you spoke, trying to ease his feelings as if your words could stop his incessant pining.

“well, i’ll just make it work!” turning around and continuing his list, speaking as if he was godric gryffindor coming up with the best idea of the century. “ten galleons she says no again.” sirius quickly whispers in peters direction, the dirty blonde haired boy doing a quick nod then looking back at his parchment.

“i heard that!”

the next time there was a ramble of soulmate talk, which by the way you were getting exhausted from. why did everyone have to have a soulmate? why couldn’t you pick from your own free will? it’s not even like you could have a bloody crush because there was already someone supposedly out there for you!

one free period, ONE! and it’s spent over peter narrowing down his options on all the gryffindor girls he might be paired with. “it’s definitely not marls, peter.” sirius’ pearl irises glanced at peter than over to remus who was trying to teach you how to play wizards chess.

“moony, not to be offensive, but this game sucks arse.” you shrugged, glaring at your queen piece that looked like it wanted to yell at you. as you were twisting around the wood of your pieces, james got up from the bench catching a glimpse of red among the ravenclaw students. instead tripping on the stone of the bench and face planting into the freshly cut grass.

you felt a soreness at the fronts of your calves and an immense discomfort on your face. you grimaced while rubbing your knees trying to soothe the random shoot of exertion through your veins to the point where you almost had the urge to groan.

james quickly scrambled to his feet trying to brush out his hair that had sprinkles of green all over the front, you completely ignored the fact that james’ fall broken by the stone of the bench had caused you to have a twinge of pain into your system.

“none of you saw that.” he panted with slight embarrassment, directing his message to sirius who had his hand clenched into a fist over his lips attempting to cover up the small chortles that were threatening to escape his lips.

“don’t worry, we saw nothing.” you confirmed with an amused grin, putting your two fingers over your lips like a seal.

he grinned back at you twice as hard, your heart starting more of an upbeat frequency that you started to notice as he sat beside you moving a piece that could ruin remus’ chance at winning.

“you slimy git! you’re helping her cheat, you little slag!” remus whined, trying to analyze the board again.

after your recovery, from absolutely nothing. you were sprawled on the scarlet-couch waiting for the rest of your friends to come back from detention. you dazed into a book remus had recently given to you, an icepack laying on your foot as you were almost hypnotized by the pride and prejudice book in your hands.

“oi, m’lady!” sirius abruptly shouted while returning to his common room. you jumped from the stentorian voice, that sunk into the now not-solemn and peaceful common room.

you turned your head seeing the bespectacled boy limp onto the other vermillion couch and rest his leg onto the plush of the pillow, meanwhile, the fawn and dirty blonde haired boys sat in the gryffindor-red love seats tired from their detention.

“what’s wrong with him?” you asked, referring to james’ leg that was propped under the pillow.

“we don’t know, we were walking and he just picked up his foot in agony. who knows maybe lily stubbed her toe.” sirius amused to the rest of the group. but your eyes widened in concern, but you had— there’s absolutely and completely no way. more than one person can stub their toe in one day, not just— just one person.

almost like you were in a daze or hypnotized, as stealth as possible you grabbed the maroon coloured blanket that was rested on the arm rest of the couch you spread it over your legs covering the foot; that you had injured previously that day.

what the fuck. no seriously, what the fuck. there wasn’t— there couldn’t even be— that wouldn’t work. it’s not possible. the butterflies, the flushed face, the nervous ticks— fuck.

over the course of the next few days, you were very careful. you could’ve been mary friggin’ poppins i mean you didn’t want him to get suspicious if you were both injured at the same time. you also did not want to know if he— the boy pining over lily fucking evans since first year was possibly— no there’s no way.

the following week there was a slytherin and gryffindor quidditch game. which also happened to be incredibly nerve wracking not only for you but between both houses, as much as slytherin wanted to seem nonchalant there act was simply not going to work. this determined who would be playing in the quidditch house cup, slytherins also happened to not play the fairest in quidditch so extra gryffindor training was keen.

well now that following week, was today. the game was fine, great even. gryffindor was in the lead and james was about to score a quaffle in the hoop, that was until slytherin beater decided to bat a bludger right into james torso causing him to collapse off his broom twenty five feet into the air with nothing to break his fall. at the reflect of the bludger on james ribs you already groaned hunched over into your seat catches the attention of both peter and sirius.

dumbledore did all the spells he could in such a swiftly manner before james skidded on the muddy grass of the pitch. by then you couldn’t even hold in the moans and groans from his affliction with the hard iron bludger and the fall from the air.

both peter and sirius’ eyes widened and shared a look before taking concern to your arching figure. “m’god i didn’t think it hurt that bad!” you groaned into your hands that could almost be seen as trembling from the agony that you were in as james’ team mates brought him down to the infirmary to check for injuries which he did in-fact have.

after sirius had brought you to your dorm, attempting to do a spell to rid you of most-but not all of your pain he raced to healers wing, seeing james on the verge of unconsciousness as madam pomfrey tried to whip up a potion in a fast manner to heal the boy.

i guess it was true— james was your soulmate. your soulmate in love with another woman that is.

a few hours later james was ordered to stay the night for observation, while both sirius and peter decided to catch up remus along with james up on the other ‘things’ more, or less, that occurred during the quidditch match.

him, and lily.... weren’t soulmates? he thought maybe one day they would’ve ended up together, at some point. not his very best friend being the one he’s ‘destined’ with. but he was desperate to speak with you, how did you know? did you even know? how bad did it hurt? he had so many questions scattered around his brain, until he saw your face that was close to a grimace from pain.

“hi.” you whispered, catching his attention.

“hey.” he whispered back hoarsely, gulping at the sudden tension in the room.

“so we’re—“ “you’re my—“ you both spoke at the same time, following an humourless more-so nervous chuckle, from the both of you.

“how long— did you even know?” james started, looking at your figure as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

you sat down nervously, cracking your knuckles as you were unsure where to start. “i thought— i started wondering, that day me and rem were playing chess and you fell.” you cleared your throat while speaking, avoiding eye contact entirely. “my knees started to hurt, but i didn’t even notice it. the day that you came into the common room limping, was when i suspected it.” you wrung your fingers together nervously, then looking into his irises.

“you knew? why didn’t you—“ his anger already starting to get the best of him, you knew that you were his soulmate. you were right in-front of him, but you never told him; he almost felt betrayed.

“i didn’t know! only suspected. but you have to understand, james. you were incessantly pinning after lily, you claimed you were ‘in love with her’. you’re making it seem like it was gonna be so easy for me to tell you that ‘guess what, james! the girl you love actually isn’t your soulmate and it’s your best friend you have no interest in!’ prongs, m’fraud s’not that easy.” you mocked, proving your correct argument to him based on his actions.

he took a shaky breath, analyzing basically his whole life in-front of him. even though he might’ve ‘loved’ lily, you were still more important to him. soulmate or not, he would always go to you first. he could barely stand to fight with you, he couldn’t loose you over some silly crush that he had.

“it doesn’t matter— lily— she doesn’t matter. y/n it’s you, soulmate, not soulmate, who cares! lily or not lily, you’ve always been my go-to, my number one, i mean you’ve always been the most important!” he said drastically while punctuating his words, and flailing his arms in the air to prove his point to you.

you sighed looking at him, almost unsure of his words. he looked at you expectantly before speaking again, “i’ll get on my knees right now and beg to you. with broken— well now bruised but priory broken ribs. not to mention my stubbed toe.” he chuckled at last second trying to humour you.

“oh my g— get up!” you snickered at him, james potter was on his knees fighting all the pride in his system right in-front of you where you were sat. his hands grasped both sides of your thighs trying to soothe you into you forgiving him.

at the sight of him right infront of you, with the best sirius black puppy dog eyes he could muster with a pouted lip you immediately gave in. “fine.” you sighed, “fine, fine, fine.” you giggled.

both of his hands encasing your cheeks, a small pout on your lips. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his elbows resting on your thighs. you looked at him pretending to ponder off in thought; shrugging while you spoke, “hmmm, maybe. i gues—“ he quickly cut you off, kissing your pouted lips in the middle of a sentence.

you kissed back, holding his face between your agile fingers. your right hand resting on his squared jaw and the other in his fluffy and borderline-sweaty hair. your lips slotting together, he could feel the mint taste from the gum you have chewed earlier bleed onto his tastebuds; you on the other hand, not such a memorable taste.

you quickly pulled away, a dramatic whine escaping from his throat. “you remember when you face planted into the dirt earlier?” you giggled while asking him. he looked at you confused; why would... you... be asking if he remembered himself falling?

“erm, yeah i can recall.”

“yeah your mouth tastes like dirt.”

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#james potter one shot #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x oc #james potter x you #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter fanart #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #harry potter

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Text

(inspired by this ask the lovely @fourdrinkamy got!)

“Oh!” The Sergeant smiles widely at her phone before looking up, surveying the little group that’s gathered around her. “Do you guys mind if my husband joins us for a minute? He’s just gotten off his shift.”

There’s the typical rushed murmur of agreement and “of course not!” before Amy begins writing something on her phone.

“Who’s her husband?” One of the rookies asks in a hushed tone at the other end of the bar where the new team members had sort of congregated - they’d been a bit too timid to sit closer with the rest of the uniformed officers that Amy had invited out for drinks at Shaw’s after a particularly tough week for them.

“Detective Peralta from the first floor.” One of the less rookie-ish rookies (god they really need a better labeling system for that) answers, much to the first askers surprise.

“The... uh... the goofball?”

Gary a few seats beside them grins. That was probably the nicest descriptor the poor woman could’ve thought of when being reminded of the chaos-made-human that sometimes descended from the first floor unto theirs, bringing with him stories of crazy heists or trying to rope some of them into his convoluted plans during bigger meetings of the precinct.

“Yeah. He’s a bit odd.” Rookie Level 5 (hm, maybe that’s not a good labeling plan either) nods. “Sometimes I wonder what the Sarge sees in him, but she married him, so...” He shrugs.

“Hard to imagine someone as professional and high-strung as Sergeant Santiago going for that kind of crazy.”

“Well, you never know.” Rookie Level 5 (now marked down as bit of a creep he should keep an eye on after that wink and laugh, Gary thinks) answers.

And they really don’t know, he thinks. He doesn’t fault them for that - it took quite a while for him to figure it out too, only presented with the Santiago-Peralta team in ‘professional’ settings that Jake always tried to make as unprofessional as possible while Amy next to him huffed and tried to keep them both in the lane.

They’ll probably understand faster than him, though, given the current setting. The soft shock on all their faces when the sergeant turned up for this casual get-together in a flowery, dark-coloured dress instead of the well-pressed suit they all expected from her even out of uniform had already unsettled their pre-conceived imagie of her a little bit.

Gary’s musings are quickly interrupted by a very loud, very boisterous voice.

“Eyoh! Look at New York’s Finest drinking some of New York’s worst!”

Amy rolls her eyes at him with a fond smile while Jake makes his way through the group, greeting most of them with another joke that only half of them understand, but most laugh at out of politeness, until he settles down next to her. There’s a moment of hesitation in his movements before he leans over to kiss her cheek, as if he’s afraid she might actually pull away in this setting - he’s definitely not afraid to kiss her hello when he visits her at her desk downstairs, but it’s a different feeling to this, all eyes of her squad on them, so he quickly leans back again to grin at them all and make another quip about drink recommendations in this place if they really want to get to know each other, winkwink.

Rookie Level 1 (yeah, it really doesn’t work) scoffs and shoots Rookie Level 5 (damn, it’s kind of stuck though) a look that he repeats with a nod. Peralta is really making sure to cement their image of him for the next few minutes - immediately pulling the situation to him as the class clown that he is, entertaining the closer row of officers near him with some new story from upstairs that only half sounds over-exaggerated. He’s all swinging arms and loud noises and wide grins, and Gary wonders if any of the others are able to make out the little details that belie his persona or if he’s just too aware of them now himself.

The way he’ll turn towards Amy at the end of every story with his grin, as if waiting for her reaction first and foremost, and only continuing when he sees her smile even as she shakes her head. The fact that he remembered all of their names in his comical greetings, and even tries to pull in the rookie group at the end of the bar into the conversation. The slightest hint of a serious face inbetween his rambling, his eyes doing a quick once-over of the whole bar and their group as if to make sure everyone’s still okay - a detective skill he clearly can never turn off.

It’s not much - it’d give away the game if it was any more obvious - but it’s enough for Gary to remember that underneath all the bravado and jokester behaviour, he’s still Sergeant Amy Santiago’s husband, and for a reason.

-*-

That reason shows itself about twenty minutes later, when his first beer is finished and the conversations of the group have broken back into their own areas, talking about their week or about upcoming assignments, sharing academy anecdotes or first-arrest-stories. Gary is sure detective Peralta would happily jump into these talks as well if he only heard them, but there’s no way he’s listening to anything but Amy next to him, a tad too noisy after her second beer as she tells him about something that happened at work today.

Gary tries his best to catch Rookie Level 1′s attention, and diverts it towards the pair with an eyebrow raise and a soft side-nod of the head.

“Oh.” Level 1 (her name is Lisa, he thinks? He needs to check the rooster.) says, quietly, and he nods again. She sees. (She’s a quick one, he really needs an eye on her for future assignments.)

And what she sees is proof enough of what the Sarge sees in her goofball husband, too.

They’ve seem to have gone into their own little bubble after the main attention drifted away from them, talking in hushed tones about their son and how someone had just texted them an update on the babysitting evening. And within that bubble, it almost seems like someone had cut the strings of the muppet-like actions of the Peralta they all know.

His whole body language seems to shift - his shoulders are hanging low as he leans closer and closer to Amy next to him, his face in his hand as he hooks his arm over the backrest behind her, his eyes stuck on her and whatever story she’s telling him about right now. There’s the softest smile on his face, and a shine to his eyes as she animatedly - almost as animated as he usually is - talks between hiccups from the beer she’s drinking a little bit too fast.

The air has gone out of him, but not in a bad way - he’s far more settled than usual, like someone dialed down his usual speed. He still grins and nods and raises his eyebrows high in reactions to what Amy is saying, but he also absent-mindedly reaches over and tucks a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, his hand trailing down her neck for a second after it. Gary’s sure that as it drops down underneath the table, it definitely reaches for hers to hold.

“Yeah”, Lisa (it’s definitely Lisa, he remembers her introducing herself to him a few weeks ago more clearly now) nods towards him, quietly and with a smile. “Yeah, I get it.” as Peralta leans even closer to Amy, whispers something soft into her ear that makes her giggle, and giggle a little more when he presses a little kiss right beside her ear.

He stands up, out of the bubble, and withing seconds the persona is back as he grins at them all.

“Welp, I better take my wife home before I have to carry her home.” He extolls, before - of course - looking down again with a smile. “Just joking, babe, I know you can hold your own when it comes to New York’s Worst at Shaw’s.”

The Sergeant rolls her eyes again, but she also takes his offered arm as she stands up, tells them all to have a good rest of the night and enjoy their weekend off properly, and they could catch the slightest of winks into Jake’s direction from her if they only looked close enough.

He loops an arm around her waist as he says his goodbyes as well, and uses it to both support her and steer her as they leave, Amy clearly a bit less sure on her feet than she usually is. He wraps her scarf around her neck at the clothesrack at the front of the bar, tugs her jacket down after she’s slipped into it with waving arms and buttons the last few buttons for her that her fingers fumble at, and Lisa smiles at Gary as Amy stumbles for the door and is immediately held at bay again by her husband’s soft grip on her arm.

“Yeah, I can see it.” She says, and Gary nods.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic

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emilycollins00 · 2 years

Note

hello! i love your writings a whole lot, and im real excited that youre open for requests! if it's alright, may i request itaru and tsumugi (separately) with an s/o that is insecure about their body/weight? and maybe they're trying to lose weight but are struggling a little bit? ive been trying myself and i think it would be a cute scenario (and i think ive earned a treat to read some of your stuff, not to sound condescending or anything djhsdklf sorry)

Not me crying while reading this I’m-?? Sorry this took so long, you deserve this and more!! 💕

TRIGGER WARNING just in case weight/gaining weight is triggering to any of you. I want to be extra sure to mention it.

Please enjoy! 💕

Itaru and Tsumugi x s/o struggling with their weight

Itaru

“I still wonder how Chikage-san puts up with your messiness.”

Itaru shrugs lazily, leaving the jacket and suitcase on the -if you squinted real hard- couch. You follow after him while looking around the familiar room. In the two weeks you have been absent from setting a foot on the dorm, you would bet not a single thing had moved. “I’m not gonna help you clean this time.”

The spring member moves his hand dismissively. “I know, I know. I’ll clean it up at some point.”

You hum. “I’m sure you are.”

You grimace when he moves aside unceremoniously the, what you guessed were, leftovers of junk food he had probably fetched and eaten at 3am.

“You really are in a hurry, uh.”

Itaru chuckles, yet his eyes don’t stray away from setting all the panels and screens required to turn on the computer. “Yeah, well… you may define it as a call for us true Knirou lovers out there. Care to pass it to me?”

You reach out to the packet carefully placed it inside the suitcase priorly left on the sofa. Once it’s on your hands you turn it around curiously, the face of the main characters on full display under the title Knight Round: The odyssey.

Honestly, it was a miracle Itaru had had enough self-control to go to work.

“I thought the rest of the Spring Troupe might have wanted to try it.” You hand the game and make space to make yourself comfortable on the sofa. “Or Banri-kun for that matter.”

“Gotta be honest Citron and Banri wanted to but were dragged by Sakyo-san for something last minute. The others said they had their fair share, not that I can’t somewhat emphasize with that. We went through hell for that play.”

You lean back, eyes staring at the ceiling lost in thought for a moment. “You had to do workouts for that one, right?”

“Mostly for our fights, yeah. I’ve never been sorer in my life though,” he mentions offhandedly while inserting the game.

You hum again. And maybe you should have left it at that, but the words come out faster than you can stop them. “…Did you feel any changes?”

“Mhm? I guess. It’s not like we managed to get abs, but we did have to work out like crazy. I don’t think I would have been able to endure that hadn’t it been for the stakes we were under.”

Stakes, uh.

You stare down and look at your body, mouth turning into a thin line. Your hand moves to your stomach, pinching it slightly, as if that would magically change into being good enough to fit your standards. Standards you had been trying to reach for weeks without results.

“Everything okay?”

Itaru is sitting next to you as he usually does when you come to spend time together, control at hand. You nod, ignoring his questioning eyes and focusing your attention on the glowing screen, the main characters slowly appearing one by one. “I’m fine. Are you done?”

He seems to catch your opposition to say anything more rather quickly, and even though it looks like there’s more he might want to say, he doesn’t. He simply stares at you talking for a few more seconds before turning his attention back to the screen, pressing finally start.

One knock. Two. Three.

“Itaru-san! Dinner is served, please come as soon as you can!”

You raise your head from your phone at the very same time your boyfriend curses, fingers moving impossibly fast over his control. You frown and look at the time. Was it already that late?

“Itaru.”

“Yeah.”

“Sakuya-kun called.”

“Ugh- shit why am I getting shot at from that angle.”

You stare at the blond actor. One didn’t have to be a genius to know he was completely absorbed in the game and hadn’t paid attention to a single thing you had said. Well, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t expected it anyway.

You nudge him.

“Itaru.” You try raising your voice. Usually it wouldn’t have meant anything, but it surprisingly manages to catch him off guard while that cute fairy seems to heal his character. You decide to be quick. “Sakuya-kun came. Dinner’s ready.”

“Ah, I’m tied up at the moment so you can go ahead and tell them I’ll arrive later.” He turns unbothered back to the game.

Once again, it went as expected. It wasn't the first time you would have had dinner with everyone at Mankai and then brought back a plate of dinner to his room.

Not this time though.

“I think I’ll call it a day and just go home. Try to not bother Chikage-san with your gaming.”

Itaru’s eyes are still glued to the screen game, so there is no way you could have noticed his eyebrows frowning. “The others have been asking for you,” he merely comments as he hears you collecting your things. “It’s been a while since you have stayed for dinner.”

You feel a prick of guilt. Because it’s true, and you aren’t happy about it either. “I’ve been kinda busy. Tell everyone I’ll try to come back soon.”

You are about to say goodbye and leave when you notice there’s no sound coming from the screen.

Itaru never pauses his games.

“...Is it because of your diet?”

You have spent so long ignoring the issue that you have no idea how to respond.

“...Just part of it." you mention quietly. You can’t help but feel like you have said something wrong. Or stupid. Or both.

After a few seconds you dare to turn, encountering the familiar pair of ruby orbs staring right at you, waiting for you while shining against the blue light provided by the computer. You look down at your nails, picking them and playing with them. “I… I guess I’m just tired of not seeing any improvement, you know?”

It wasn’t that you had become obsessed, but your weight has been something that has been eating you away at the back of your head for a while. Because you have been working hard. Incredibly hard. So why did you still feel so drained? Why was it still becoming more difficult to see yourself in the mirror?

“And I know no one is going to say anything, but, seeing everyone chatting so casually while I’m— god I sound so selfish.” You sit on the arm of the sofa and you rub away the sudden tears coming out of your eyes. “I don’t want anyone seeing me struggling, Itaru. Not you, not anyone. It’s… not worth it.”

You feel his hand being placed on your back. Your lip trembled because yeah, you are exhausted. A sob comes out. Then another one.

The spring member doesn’t say a word, merely letting you let everything out. Because he knows -of course he knows- that his eating habits are unhealthy. But he is physically gifted as people might say, so it’s not like he can pretend to know what you are going through.

What he knows is how it feels when one pays too much attention to their own self.

“Look—” he moves his hand where yours are and gives a little squeeze to catch your attention once you start to calm down. “We both know I’m not the best at this kind of thing not gonna lie, but… as you said, no one is going to think less of you. Much less me. In fact, I would say you have been pretty op all this time.”

There is a pinch in your stomach. Because part of the anxiety was the running thought of not being good enough. Your vision becomes teary again, and you shake your head.

“I’m not op at all.”

“You kidding? I’d definitely add you to my team on sight. I mean,” he nudges you, “no one in their right mind would choose to spend the whole afternoon listening to me cursing while gaming on my side of the room.”

“That you said you are going to clean,” you manage to add despite the situation.

“That I might clean at some point.” Itaru concedes. A smile reaches his mouth when he turns and looks at your frowning face, and so he gives your hand another squeeze. “I can pretty much imagine what I'm saying doesn't feel like right but… keep in mind you just need to work one step at a time. There’s no rush, Y/N.”

You slowly nod. He makes your name sound so special, so right. In the middle of the room, you feel the pressure built up for weeks in your mind starts to become less terrible as your lean on him.

One step at a time.

Tsumugi

Your lungs burned like hell.

You rest your hands on your knees to support yourself enough to calm down the heavy breathing. A few sweat drops fall to the floor.

“Remember to not stop until the end! You can do it, come on! Ten! Nine! Eight…!”

A low grunt is all you can attempt in the solitude of your living room. You stand up with effort and wince immediately. Yeah, that is definitely a cramp rising up your thigh.

“-And we are done, good job! That was all for today, remember to stretch before you get in the shower! If you liked this routine you can subscribe to my…”

You decide to pay no more attention at the overly-enthusiastic trainer’s voice coming from the computer -who has the audacity to be smiling as if they hadn’t been jumping with you for the last forty-five minutes by the way- and close it unceremoniously, still hoping to gain back a quarter of your lost breath and cardiac rhythm.

Damn, even your ears rang.

With heavy steps you make your way to the table, gulping down the entire glass of water.

“Maybe I should try different exercises…” you mumble as you head to the bathroom. God knows you smelled incredibly gross by now and honestly, the thought of a warm shower was more than a little appealing.

It’s not working.

The words almost seem to come from anywhere but your mind, given the way they make you halt. Then there’s the familiar twist in your stomach -because it’s not the first time. And while part of your brain begs for you to ignore them, you can’t help turning slightly to the side, finding your reflection staring back. You press your lips together.

Dismantled hair. Tummy. Flushed face. Thighs. Breathless, as always.

It’s not working.

Why wasn’t it working?

Beneath the spray of the shower you allow yourself a moment of reprieve. The head is a little old, the pressure stuttering every so often as it hisses against the bathroom tiles, but it’s a welcome distraction from the sting that begins at the back of your eyes. You shake your head, blinking to get rid of the teary vision.

You force yourself to get rid of your thoughts and focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the devil on your shoulder.

“Y/N?”

You blink at the familiar voice, reverting back to your actual surroundings. The sun is up high, and the fresh smell of flowers reaches your senses. Blue eyes stare back at you.

Right. You were in Mankai.

“Sorry, Tsumugi. What did you say?”

Your boyfriend merely offers a sweet smile while pointing with his chin the bag resting at your feet. “The soil. Can you put some here while I bring the geraniums? The space is pretty much done.”

You do as instructed, crouching down next to him while trying not to dirt him anymore than he already was, only half listening to him thanking you for coming to help on your day off.

You notice he’s wearing the overall you bought him not too long ago. And while it’s undeniably dirty from transplanting plants and kneeling on the ground, it still suits him -you think. Tsumugi always felt like he belonged in a flower garden. Flower guardian was it what everyone called him?

“Maybe we could go to that new coffee shop that opened near the station after this.” The winter leader keeps talking while placing the last bits of soil you spread around the bedflower. “Banri-kun told me it had really good reviews.”

“Sure.” you nod a few seconds later, missing the way Tsumugi’s eyes lay on you. “What me to bring the watering can?” you mention while getting up from your position -or you would have, hadn’t it been for the soreness on your body. You grunt out loud. You really should have stretched yesterday.

“Ah, it’s okay, I’ll get it. You look tired.” It’s not really recrimination, more like an offhanded statement. A soft ‘maybe it would be better for you to rest at home after all.’

“I’m fine.” You insist. You walk a few steps and lift the watering can. He doesn’t say anything else, so you proceed to give him the gardening tool and crouch next to him again, hugging your knees. Neither of you speaks for a while. “In any case I’ve been letting myself down lately, so that’s on me.”

Tsumugi’s hands stop moving for a second, eyebrows frowning slightly at your comment.

“…I see.” His tone doesn’t change, resuming to pat lightly the ground to level equally the soil around the newly planted flowers. He doesn’t force you to say anything more than that -he never does- but while you watch him tend the last remnants of the garden and hear the far tweet of the birds, you feel like you should provide a context for such a random sentence. A sudden lump rises in your throat.

“I’ve been struggling with my weight.”

It’s not like you had been secretive about it either. Though you are sure he didn’t know it had come up to this point. Tsumugi nods.

“How long?”

How has it been since you have been feeling like this?

“It’s not everyday.” you say slowly, carefully evading the question. You can feel the worry in his voice, and you kick yourself mentally for it. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up after all. “It’s just. I guess I just wanted to… know what it’s like. To feel good about oneself.”

Because it isn’t -has never- been an easy topic.

“But it just— doesn’t seem to work, you know?” You laugh, high and strained. “And I— I run, and run, and exercise, and end up feeling like dying only to find our nothing changes.”

There’s a soft swift and shuffle around you. And a second later you feel a familiar hand resting on yours, thumb caressing it. You let go a shaky breath. Maybe it’s the blue-haired’s calming presence, or maybe you have reached a limit enough to not care. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You lean into his arms, and the words flow.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like— like it’s never going to get better, no matter how much I try. I hate feeling like this Tsumugi. I hate it.”

There’s another moment of silence. You are aware you are resting on him while crouching next to the half-done bedflower -not the most ideal position- but he doesn’t move. You can feel his warmth, his smell, and the way he has carefully begun to caress down your back.

“You have been working hard.” his voice the quietest you’d ever heard. You purse your lips and sniff, containing a sob down your throat. It’s stupid to get so emotional after hearing such a thing, but you are sure the tears would appear if you look at him.

He notices your restraint. Of course he does. He didn’t study psychology for nothing. “You… know I’m not good with technology, right?”

In the midst of things happening the statement manages to confuse you, but you don’t say anything, hear still buried on his neck. He keeps talking, not bothered by your silence. “I’ve always tried to understand how mobiles and computers work. It’s a constant struggle, and even with everyone’s help it always seems like I’m at square one so I… talked about Kazunari-kun about it some time ago. Director and Sakyo-san want us to interact with fans more often and I didn’t want to bring everyone’s efforts down. It took us the whole day to be able to upload something from my part.”

“For the writing blog?” you couldn’t help but ask. Tsumugi chuckles tiredly, probably reliving the moment in his head.

“Yeah. You have seen it, right? Even with all the time spent the photos were still blurry and I uploaded them to the wrong place twice. I had become dejected because I truly had given my all, and was about to apologize when he started giving me a surprisingly amount of compliments.”

“I was confused at first. But then he told me not to worry because we weren’t in a hurry to reach anywhere, and that we would be faking it till we made it.”

“Fake it till you make it?” you repeat, lifting your head slightly. That was such a Kazunari thing to say.

Tsumugi moves, helping you both stand up. Your body sighed feeling blood once again circulating through your legs.

“There’s no deadline for when you don’t want to give up no matter how much one has failed on the way, Y/N. And if there’s someone I know will always give their all, is you.”

“But—”

“I know it’s not easy,” he concedes. “But you have been doing your best all this time I think it would be a pity for your effort to go to waste. Let’s take smaller steps at a time. Maybe we can all try to think of ways to help you together.

He cups your face with his hands, caressing it with his thumbs. “You are not alone, Y/N.”

You are still not sure. It’s a difficult feeling. But his blue eyes soften when you finally look at him. And for once in a long time you find comfort in the simplicity of knowing - oh. Maybe it’s going to be alright.

_________________________________________________________

Wishing you all a wonderful day! 💕

#a3!#act addict actors #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! itaru #a3! tsumugi #itaru chigasaki #tsumugi tsukioka

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anthemxix · 3 years

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There is something that I noticed while watching a game play of Hyrule warriors. Once You get the great fairy in the game but the way she fights is what got my angst side tickling. The way she fights is that she puts Link in a bottle and fights while he’s in the bottle, and once there’s a victory. The great fairy lets him out and you can clearly see his discomfort when she spins around him and such. Just something i noticed that i thought might be important for yah. :3

thank you so much for sending me this! it makes me so happy that you thought to share this with me. thank you ;w;

the whole getting-stuck-in-a-bottle thing is perfect for angst, and i was going to write something angsty, but then...this happened?? tl;dr for this fic is as follows~

hyrule: i don't like trapping fairies in bottles. warriors: yeah, getting trapped in a bottle sucks. hyrule: wait, what? warriors: what?

like that's it, that's the fic. also, wind is the problem child here because the fairies in WW look so sad after you catch them XD

Deep in the woods, the heroes find a sanctuary.

The densely-packed, straight-backed trees open up into a sunlit pocket, a secret glade undisturbed for centuries, where the air holds still like bated breath. Playing among the sunbeams, fluttering on filmy dragonfly wings, are dozens upon dozens of fairies.

Hyrule smiles fondly as he steps into the clearing, stretching out an arm in invitation. Several fairies, awash in a pastel pink glow, drift towards him and perch there like birds on a branch. A few more land on his shoulders; a couple snuggle into his nest of unruly hair.

“Oh, this is great!” Wind chirps. His voice seems unnaturally loud in the quiet, sacred space, and a handful of the fairies on Hyrule’s arm startle and flit away. The Traveler turns, prepared to admonish the Sailor for his volume, but he pales as he sees Wind, and several of the other heroes, fishing empty bottles from their bags.

Fairies’ healing magic is more potent than any potion, so Hyrule understands why the other heroes want it at their disposal; yet the idea of trapping one of these magnificent little creatures for days or weeks on end merely to exploit her generosity makes Hyrule uneasy. He knows what it’s like to be so small and helpless, and he can only imagine the horror of being imprisoned in a cramped bottle with nothing to do but breathe increasingly stale air and wait for freedom.

Hyrule holds out his other arm to offer refuge to more fairies; several more pink orbs alight on him without hesitation. Dismayed, he watches Wind ready his bottle and make a wild swing for a fairy. She bleats in alarm before zipping away.

His next target is not so lucky. Wind catches this fairy between his hand and the bottle, effectively jamming her inside.

“Sailor—,” Hyrule begins, but he cuts himself off as, to his surprise, Warriors clamps a firm hand on Wind’s shoulder and spins him around. He’s wearing the irritated scowl that’s usually reserved for Legend.

“What do you think you're doing?” the Captain snaps.

The triumph over a successful catch swiftly drains from Wind’s face. “What do you mean?”

“You have to be more careful,” Warriors chastises. “If you insist on detaining them, at least don't hurt them.”

“What? I would never—!” Pausing, Wind gives the cross-armed Captain a once-over, defensiveness dissipating in favor of curious realization. “Wait, why aren’t you grabbing any fairies…?”

Huh. Now that Hyrule considers it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Warriors with a bottled fairy of his own. He hadn’t realized the Captain, too, is sensitive to the plight of these little winged creatures.

Blatantly discounting the question, Warriors says, “Look, why don’t you let Time give you pointers on how to do this properly.”

Wind’s imminent protests visibly shrivel as his gaze follows to where Warriors points. Time stands peacefully in the middle of the glade, open bottle passively upheld; a fairy willingly flies inside and allows herself to be stowed in Time’s bag. Attention captured, Wind bounces over to Time without another word to Warriors.

Eyebrows raised in amusement, Hyrule relaxes. Wind hadn’t intended to mistreat the fairies, and his youthful vigor is disarming. He glances at Warriors, expecting to see a similarly amused expression on him, given the massive soft spot Warriors has for the kid, but Warriors isn’t looking at Wind or Time at all. Instead, he’s watching the others collect fairies with an expression Hyrule has never seen on him.

His irritation, it seems, was a knee-jerk reaction, a symptom masking the real problem, which apparently is…discomfort?

Hyrule watches as now, in the quiet, some fairies drift towards the Captain, languidly orbiting him or touching down on his shoulders. If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge them, continuing to watch the other heroes with crossed arms and pursed lips, like he’s tasted something sour.

Stepping closer, Hyrule says, “Uh, h-hey. Captain?”

As if he’s forgotten Hyrule was standing nearby, Warriors startles, but he quickly composes himself, seamlessly transitioning to an air of detached, smoothed-over neutrality. “Yes?”

“You okay? You look a little, uh…spooked.”

“Of course.” He buries one hand in the folds of scarf around his neck. The lie is painfully obvious, though Hyrule isn’t certain if that’s a cue to keep pushing or to let this go.

Fortunately, he doesn’t need to decide. Warriors drops the hand from his scarf and instead hooks his thumbs onto his belt. He’s in his observational tactician mode, his posture and expression shuttered so that he gives nothing away, only takes in. “You know, I'm not as in-tune with magic as you or Legend, but I’ve always been able to sense the residue of fairy magic on you, Traveler. Why is that?”

The deflection is unexpected, Hyrule thinks, but he supposes he can’t call it unfair. Secrets are like anything else: earned, not free. So he barters.

“Yeah, it’s, um. It’s from…a spell I can cast.”

“What does it do?”

“Uh, well, it’s…” He swallows. Maybe he isn’t ready to divulge this particular secret in full. “It sort of…replicates fairy magic, you could say.”

Warriors looks like he wants to ask more; Hyrule jumps in before he can. “So you don’t like catching fairies, huh?”

He can almost see the same thought process flicker across Warriors’ face: get a secret, give a secret.

One hand trails up to his scarf—a nervous habit, Hyrule figures—but then drops to his side again. “I don’t like the idea of trapping them.”

“Neither do I,” Hyrule agrees.

Warriors’ gaze is fixed on the others again, on the bottles in their hands. His hand returns to his scarf, and this time he absently toys with it, mind preoccupied. “...I know what it’s like.”

“What…what’s like?”

“Being trapped like that.” His voice has gotten quieter, his gaze more faraway. “And no matter what you do, you can’t get out.”

“Oh...I...I'm sorry,” Hyrule fumbles, not sure what to say.

“No one took it seriously,” Warriors continues. He untangles his hand from his scarf, holds out a finger so one of the fairies on his shoulder can perch there instead. “I felt so small and helpless...but it was just a joke to everyone else.”

Hyrule shuffles uncomfortably, scrutinizing the somber way Warriors is looking at the fairy on his finger. “So, um...what...where were you...trapped, exactly?”

Warriors frowns, and for one hopeful moment, Hyrule thinks he’s going to get an answer. But then Wind is bounding over, chattering excitedly, earlier tensions seemingly forgotten. The fairies around Warriors flutter away in a cloud, and Time is gathering everyone up so they can keep moving.

Well. A half-truth exchanged for a half-truth. It’s a start, Hyrule supposes. At least it’s a start.

#hello i am here once again offering conversations where there's almost closure but not really #but like there will probably be closure sometime later #this took me ages to write and i want to be finished with it #so i didn't proofread it too carefully #i hope there's no major errors lol #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #warriors #hyrule #fanfic #anthem answers #anthem writes

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strawberryjamsara · 3 years

Text

Idea for a yttd no death game au that I may or may not write

-Joe is dying and Sara is frantically pushing at the button trying to stop him from succumbing. Everything seems bleak. Then she wakes up with the reveal it was a dream. Gin is shaking her awake yelling that Kai made chocolate chip pancakes and to go downstairs.

-Keiji is also down there, looking like he just woke up. Sara makes a snide comment about his eyebags, and he retorts that she doesn’t have much room to talk after she just refused to go to bed last night. Kai just serves breakfast with several one liners and Gin makes a comment about how he’s glad Kai is around because Mr Policeman and Muscle Gorilla can’t cook. Keiji takes offense to this and offers to try and make a side dish and about ten seconds in cuts himself on the knife. He gets the shit roasted out of him. Qtaro comes down looking pretty good and proceeds to see all the food is gone and gets roasted. All is well and good but something is bothering Sara.

-She meets up on the school path with Joe, Ranmaru and Anzu and they all begin teasing Ranmaru and pointing out his crush on Sara. At one point Anzu and Joe walk ahead and Ranmaru asks Sara if he can talk to her in private some time soon. Sara agrees then goes up to Joe and Anzu to loudly tell them that Ranmaru is gonna confess. Ranmaru protests loudly.

-She has a good day at school. Professor Mishima has always been her favorite teacher. However he says the old assignment Sara was working on got lost so she’ll have to start again. Sara agrees and accepts his apology, as well as his offer for an extension, and begins trying to recreate her old painting but comes to the realization she doesn’t remember what her last painting was.

-To amend this, she tries calling up Nao after school, since she remembers doing a lot of the piece with her. But strangely, Nao doesn’t seem to remember either. Nao offers to come up with a new painting if Sara comes over though, and Sara agrees. But before that her meeting with Ranmaru.

-She meets Ranmaru behind the school where he asks if she had a weird dream last night. She’s surprised and is about to say yes, but a sinking feeling arrives in her stomach at the idea of acknowledging it. She tells him no. So he says okay and tells her she can leave.

-She comes to Nao’s house and finds the usual scene. Reko is keeping to herself, Alice is lounging around before loudly announcing her presence when she comes in, and Nao is excited to see her! When coming up with a theme they toss ideas back and forth before Sara just suggests… a button pressing. She doesn’t know why. She just wants to. Nao doesn’t see a problem. Sara goes to give Reko a wave out before she leaves but she seems to be in a crabby mood. Alice explains it’s because of Samurai Yaibas concert getting cancelled due to an unexpected meltdown whatever that means. Sara offers to go shopping downtown with them on the promised day to make up for it. They agree and Sara is on her way.

-Sara is trying to go to sleep at night but the lights down the hall are still on so she storms to Keiji’s room to tell him to go the fuck to sleep it’s 1 in the morning. Good night Keiji.

-The next day, her and Joe are being sent together to babysit Kanna and Hinako after school. During school, Anzu asks Sara about her confession from Ranmaru and Sara just informs her of the conversation from yesterday. Anzu gasps and makes cries of Ranmaru playing with Sara’s heart, and Ranmaru tells her to calm down and more shenanigans ensue as they make a bigger and bigger scene.

-Joe is sent to pick up Hinako while Sara is out in charge of going to the Tsukimi’s and waiting on Kanna. Shin is pretty much already halfway out the door trying to get to work when she gets there, and she makes a few jokes at his expense but then feels a need to back off at how hard he recoils- usually he claps back twice as hard. Maybe she caught him on a bad day- and Joe comes in with Hinako who seems to have a new habit of writing everything that happens down. They watch She ra and play pretend well into the night and Shin comes back, thanks Sara and Joe profusely, and they even play a quick game of Mario Kart together, Sara taking note of how squeamish Shin is.

-Sara wakes up to see the lights are on again. She stomps to Keiji’s room again but this time she sees him hurriedly putting away a theory board when she comes in. She doesn’t know and she’s too tired to care. Goodnight Keiji.

-Ranmaru is absent from school the next day. Anzu and Joe are complaining loudly, but Sara for some reason feels a deep pit of dread in her stomach. She excuses herself trying to call him but gets no response. So she pulls Joe aside and tells him she had a dream he died and the last one on one conversation she had with Ranmaru was him asking her if she had a weird dream. Joe agrees that’s kinda weird and they decide to go around looking for answers.

-But first Reko Alice and Sara hangout! They go shopping downtown, and eventually stop at Mai’s bakery to sit down and eat. Throughout the trip Sara notices Reko being uncharacteristically mean to people they run into. Sara questions this before Alice replies that she’s always been like this and Sara must be remembering wrong. Sara can’t help but feel like she’s had this conversation before. On the bright side, Samurai Yaiba got rescheduled and Sara is invited. She gets 4 tickets, one for her, one for Anzu, one for Joe, and one for Ranmaru. She goes back home and tries to speculate on the personality shifts between Reko and Shin.

-It’s Sunday and time for Sara and Joe’s investigation! They meet up at her house, where they play with Gin and chat with Qtaro and Kai, then go off looking for leads, starting with Ranmaru’s apartment which is completely vacant. They track a few leads that go nowhere the final being that they know he would sometimes try to go and start shit with Kurumada so they go ask him and see him talking with Shin and Kanna, so they ask him and Shin for information. They don’t really have anything, and Shin actually says he’s looking for Hinako since she got a little far from him in a crowd. They agree and track her down writing notes again, and explain the situation, but Sara picks up one of the notes. “‘The case for Ranmaru Kageyama’? ‘A non-termination request’? What is thi-“ then she feels a shock at her back and falls over. “Sorry Sara senpai. I’m doing what I can.”

-Sara wakes up back in her room the next day. Was that a dream? She eats breakfast again tuning everything out, remembering how the scene went last week and then she remembers what bothered her so much about last weeks breakfast.

-Keiji didn’t bleed when he cut himself.

-Ranmaru is back in class the next day. Sara runs up to him trying to get answers out of him only to realize he hardly knows her and thinks she’s just a random classmate he’s never talked too. She yells to Joe and Anzu to snap him out of it but they seem to share a similar sentiment. She’s totally lost.

-She goes up to Mishima and asks what her previous art piece she was working on was. He says he doesn’t remember. That’s between her Nao and her own teacher not remembering. What is going on? How could they just forget? Did someone just erase it? Mishima asks if she’d like to see the nurse and she agrees.

-Until she sees the nurse. It’s her. She looks meek and quiet but the second Sara sees her her stomach drops to her shoes. She has to get out of there.

-She runs home- Keiji- Keiji had that theory board, he was saying something about her refusing to go to bed for some reason, and he went cooking to show her he didn’t bleed- he must know something-

-She finds the house empty. She calls for Kai and Gin and Qtaro and Keiji but nobody comes. The theory board- she runs to Keiji’s room and finds it- dolls- AIs- wait what? Everyone here was dolls and AIs? Was she…? She takes a pin from the board and pricks herself but she bleeds… so was everyone else… was this a box meant for her? Why?

-Then suddenly it slams into her brain like a freight train. She remembers what the previous version of the painting was.

-A sea of death. A pool of crimson with her standing above it, like she was somehow walking on top of it.

-“Ah… that’s another attempt miserably failed.”

-She turns around. She sees him. She doesn’t know him and yet she despises this person like mad. “Midori!”

-“You winning the game wasn’t supposed to be so much of a pain. Putting you in this glorified simulation for therapy is so much more trouble than it’s worth, but you were so hysterical otherwise we didn’t have a choice! And Hinako insisting we keep in people who keep cracking the code… we might have to do something about her too… but that’s nothing for you to worry about! Now go to sleep Ms Sara! When you wake up, everything will be fine again.”

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soupthatistohot · 3 years

Text

Sk8 headcannons because brainrot pt. 2

- everything Reki has ever taught himself has been because of the wonderful world of YouTube tutorials

- Kojiro wanted to get his ears pierced in highschool like Kaoru, but he didn't do it because he was afraid of tarnishing his image (which is ironic when he gets a massive tattoo later in life)

- Langa doesn't like cats because he thinks they're mean

- there’s a stray cat that lives near Langa’s house and even though he doesn’t like cats, he leaves out milk and some fish for it sometimes because he feels bad

- Langa has never had a pet except a goldfish he won at a carnival once that he managed to keep alive for four years somehow.

- Kaoru technically needed glasses in high school, but he didn't wear them because he just didn't care at the time (until his vision grew poor enough that it affected his skating)

- Miya gets called a furry by Reki on the daily

- Reki has some knowledge in video editing and has considered starting a YouTube channel

- Langa has a diary, something he started after his father died. At first he didn't really know what to write, so he would just talk about his day, but eventually he got to the emotions part. The diary was especially useful during his fight with Reki in which he was trying to figure out his emotions (it was also useful when he realized he might have an itty bitty crush on his best friend)

- Joe is the biggest dad friend of the group in terms of doting on the kids and giving advice and stuff. Both Reki and Langa come to him often for advice, and Miya hangs around his restaurant a lot.

- Langa has one (1) succulent that he has managed to keep alive for three years. Its name is Gary, and it may not be the prettiest, but it is not dead yet!

- Reki never tells his mother when Langa is coming over and she's trained herself to just expect a lanky Canadian to be wandering around her house at any time.

- It took Kojiro a really long time to figure out his sexuality (and that's valid!!)

- Hiromi has been hopelessly in love with his manager for three years and has tried on multiple occasions to confess to her, but either something interrupts them or there's some sort of misunderstanding about it. Those are his more violent nights at "S".

- After befriending Reki, Langa and Miya, Hiromi is a little more careful about his tools of sabotage during beefs (and he lowkey feels guilty for injuring Reki in the beginning)

- Kaoru and Reki are actually closer than one might think. Reki ends up asking him for advice just as much as he asks Kojiro.

- Reki can't do something mundane without his ears being occupied. He ends up listening to music or podcasts a lot when he does chores or is working on a board alone (but if Langa is there with him, he'll talk his ear off instead).

- Miya's family isn't particularly bad, they're just a little distant. They assume everything is okay because Miya's so successful with school and skating, and they trust his integrity (which makes it very easy for him to sneak out to "S"). He doesn't really talk to them (or anyone, really) about his struggles.

- When Miya and Koyomi meet, he shows her all his video games and suddenly Reki's little sister is a gamer girl

- Langa almost wore a long-sleeved top to the beach and Reki had to go make him change before they left ("you'll melt in that, are you crazy?!")

- Kojiro knew damn well that Kaoru had a business trip and that the gang was going to the beach, but all other parties were unaware. He just decided to tag along as to not be left out.

- Kaoru trims his own hair, as he finds salons to be ridiculously overpriced for those with long hair

- Reki dogsits for his next door neighbor sometimes, they have a shiba named Onigiri (rice ball).

- Kojiro’s pennant was a gift from Kaoru and he wears it literally all the time except in water (so it doesn’t get ruined)

- Reki’s father is pretty absent, so Oka takes it upon himself to look after him

- Langa occasionally picks up odd jobs in order to help his mom out with finances

- Langa’s favorite animal is dolphins. He had a phase as a child where he read like fifty dolphin books and it was his entire personality for a few months. Despite this, he has never actually seen a dolphin irl

- Reki takes really good care of his nails and Langa… does not. He bites them and it annoys the shit out of Reki to the point where he’s just like “please… just let me file them for you” and Langa relents despite the fact that he hates the sensation of getting his nails filed

- Reki sometimes talks to Langa about getting depressed and one time Langa is like “yeah I getchu” and Reki is just like “heh?” And Langa says “I mean my dad died and I was in counseling for like months after that before I came here” and Reki is just like “oh”

- Langa is Reki’s bi awakening and it takes him a hot second to figure that out

- sometimes Langa pretends to be more oblivious than he is, either for shits and giggles, or to obtain information

- Kaoru knows exactly how to seduce women, and occasionally uses this to his advantage. It just sucks because he’s not into women.

- Reki is super observant, but whenever Langa does something that’s an indication that he likes Reki, he’s just like “WELL MAYBE IM OVERANALYZING THIS CANT BE REAL-”

- Langa (in general) doesn’t feel the need to be super secretive about anything. He’s honest (sometimes brutally so) and doesn’t always think twice before he says something. This can be both good and bad depending on the context.

- Reki doesn’t sleep a lot. He literally has to go to bed past midnight, he absolutely cannot fall asleep earlier. He gets up at 6:30am every day of the week, even weekends. It’s just how he’s programmed.

- Kojiro used to go to the public gym before Kaoru commented about how unsanitary that was. Ever since then he got freaked out about going to public gyms (especially as someone who works in food services) and cancelled his membership. He bought his own equipment and works out on his own now

- Reki knows how to do rainbow loom. His sisters had a phase with it.

- Kojiro drew on himself with pen when he was bored in school.

- Miya has a habit of eavesdropping on conversations he’s not meant to hear

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 anime #sk8 renga #matchablossom #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #miya chinen #higa hiromi #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #sk8 headcanons #soupshcs

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 3: Earthrealm

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You meet the mythical Lord Raiden. He reminds you of your dad, but nicer, oddly enough. Liu Kang might also be your new best friend.

A/N: Thanks again everyone! This has been such fun. I meant to say earlier that this takes place a couple years prior to the film (also that I know a bit about MK as a game series, so I will include tidbits here and there if I can). ALSO! I am open to any suggestions that you may wish to see throughout this story- either for Liu Kang or Kung Lao. I can't guarantee I will use them but I will consider them. I am delighting in writing this!! EDIT:: lol why did no one tell me there were so many errors in this one. All fixed!

The Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The days that followed were a struggle. Monks would visit and care for your wounds at all hours of the day. You were in and out of consciousness. When you did manage to stay awake, you would meditate and do simple exercises to keep your body strong. That was a struggle in itself. Wounds needed rest to heal but you refused to become weak to them in the meantime. You were ready to fight.

Without fail Liu Kang would visit every evening. He brought books for you to read together. On his second visit he gifted you with a crudely bound leather journal and a pen to take notes with. You were inquisitive and Liu Kang was a wealth of knowledge. On nights where you finished a book or a lesson early, you would meditate together. Other nights you would chat and often times those chats would end in swapping personal stories. You had become fast friends.

You kept a calendar in the back of the journal. Liu Kang helped account for the time that you’d lost to unconsciousness. A week had passed since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple. You circled the x over the day and wondered where Kung Lao was. You’d asked around about him but had been told that many of the Earthrealm warriors were often absent. Apparently, he was frequently gone for long stretches of time. Many of the monks left on lengthy errands. Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm extended far beyond China. You wondered how much of the world Kung Lao had seen. You’d barely ever left your hometown for anything other than martial arts tournaments.

“Miss Y/N?” A monk pulled aside the sheet that had been pinned around the doorway of the small closet-sized space that had become your semi-permanent dwelling. You offered the monk a tired smile and gestured to allow him to enter. The monk bowed politely. “Your presence has been requested by Lord Raiden.”

“Oh?” You had known that you would meet with the man who the temple belonged to eventually. Liu Kang had told you that you would be summoned only after you’d been deemed well enough. You hadn’t passed out in exhaustion for the last 48 hours so you supposed this was as good a time as any. “Give me a moment to change, if you will.”

“Yes, of course Miss Y/N.” The monk bowed and left you with some privacy. You’d grown accustomed to the dressing gowns. They were comfortable and since you didn’t move around much, they worked. You’d been given several lightweight gi for future training and several hanfu, traditional Chinese garments, to wear if you desired. You wished, more than anything, that you’d gotten to pack some of your things before everything had gone to hell. No t-shirts or tank tops. No jeans or leggings. Not even any cute summer dresses. But you were grateful to have anything.

You changed into the soft blue and white hanfu that had become your favorite. It was simpler in design than the others but still long and flowing. You didn’t need anything terribly fancy to have a conversation with someone. You were sure that if Lord Raiden expected you to dress up then you would have been warned. Considering that Liu Kang rotated through the same three tattered gi and was almost always covered in soot, you doubted there was a strict dress code.

After you changed, you pulled your hair up lazily with a set of chopsticks. Then you returned to the monk who was waiting for you in the hall. The monk bowed again and then led you through the halls of the temple. The floor you’d been on had very few windows and only in the hallways. You followed the monk up several ramps and flights of stairs. Endless halls branched in every direction making the whole place seem labyrinthian. You were certain that you could spend weeks exploring the halls and still manage to miss things.

If the monk hadn’t been leading you then you wouldn’t have been able to resist your curiosity. After a good thirty minutes spent walking, you were led into a dark hallway with a rounded ceiling. It disappeared into the distance lit only by odd white statues that stood in a line along its center. The monk bowed and gestured down the hall.

“Good luck, Miss Y/N.” The monk then left you alone. You approached the glass statues in the center of the hall and found their insides sparking with electricity. They were funny in that they reminded you of a sophisticated and silent Tesla coil that fired constantly. Below the frosted glass you could see currents of electricity flowing almost as you imagined lightning would through the clouds. Your fingers brushed curiously over the glass.

“Miss Y/N?” A commanding and deep voice called from the end of the hall. You felt like a child who had disobeyed your teacher and winced. You hurried down the hall as quickly as your legs would allow then bowed before entering the room at its end.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen much outside of the infirmary. I was fascinated.”

The man who stood before you was of average build and height, his face mostly obscured by his hat. You grinned in surprise and recognition but then quickly fought to hide your glee. Raiden’s expression was severe, reminding you very much of your father and the way he’d glare at you when you’d said something un-lady-like as a child.

“There is much to discuss.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the floor in front of where he was seated with his legs crossed so you did. Much to your surprise, he was floating several inches off the ground and while you tried to hide your shock, you were sure your eyes had gone wide. “I am Lord Raiden; the protector of Earthrealm.”

“It’s an honor to meet you. Liu Kang has told me a little about you.”

“I am not surprised.” Raiden had a commanding voice as well as presence so you listened attentively. He explained the nature of other realms though he didn’t go terribly in depth with their origins or existence. Outworld was their greatest opposition with the desire to control earth and humanity. They were brutal warmongers from how Raiden described them. He then explained the tournaments and how if Outworld won a tenth tournament they could lay claim to Earthrealm.

Shang Tsung, a powerful sorcerer, would lead his armies there and take humanity as slaves. You didn’t ask but you wondered if Shang Tsung was the ruler of Outworld. You figured that if it were important then Raiden would tell you. He went on to tell you that Outworld had done this before with other realms and they had been devastated into waste.

Raiden spoke in a way that made it seem as though he had lived through countless lifetimes. While his tone often sounded severe, he also spoke with great purpose. “Our next tournament will not be for a few more years. You are one of Earthrealm’s chosen warriors.” Raiden’s lecture was winding down. “Do you have any questions?” You had known much of what Raiden had taught you that day but still sat patiently through it.

“I think I understand. If I have any questions later then I can ask Liu Kang. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around this craziness, for lack of a better word. He’s been very patient with me. The idea of arcana and how I’m meant to fight warriors from another world is still wild to me but I understand the concept. I think with time and practice I will be better off.” You stifled a giggle and then cleared your throat to stop any further giggles from escaping.

“Is there something you find funny?”

Guilt again. The kind you’d felt exclusively around your parents.

“You’re the man with the funny hat.” Your cheeks burned when he seemed affronted by your description of him. “I don’t mean to come off as rude! Forgive me. My shop is on the edge of town and there are many travelers passing through. I remember you from one of those visits. You chose your words carefully and spoke very little. You required precious stones and, as I often do, I made polite small talk. I asked what you needed them for and you said in the protection of Earthrealm which you quickly corrected to the protection of nature. You opened my eyes long ago to the secrets of the world though I was doubtful there was any truth to it until now.”

Raiden’s expression shifted and he seemed pleased but he was also difficult to read. You hoped he was pleased. Despite his severe and intimidating presence, he seemed well meaning.

“I don’t recall this instance but am happy to learn that there are those who learn the truth without panic or dismissal.”

“So, I have to fight then.”

“More than fight. You must find your arcana so that you may stand a chance against the warriors of Outworld. They are ruthless and possess skills that may seem impossible to you. Without your arcana you will not stand a chance.”

“How do I do that? Find my arcana, I mean.”

“Through trial and adversity. Everyone is different. Your arcana is unique to you.” Raiden stood and so you did the same. “Your training will begin tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure you were ready for that but you bowed respectfully. That was tomorrow’s problem. “Thank you. I promise to work my hardest.”

Raiden said nothing but didn’t look as though he quite believed you capable. You had long ago stopped seeking the approval of others. Actions spoke louder than words and you would do as you promised. Raiden turned from you without another word. You waited for an awkward moment to be dismissed then turned and left. You chose not to linger in the hall with the pretty lightning sculptures that had distracted you earlier.

The path back to the infirmary wasn’t easily found and you wandered aimlessly for a time before asking a monk to help you back to the infirmary. You were exhausted. Upon arrival you closed the curtain to your tiny room and sat on the edge of your bed. Your arms were aching. You were sore and tired. Gravity didn’t agree with your healing wounds. Training was going to be a bitch but you would be better for it.

Retrieving the journal Liu Kang had given you, you made yourself cozy after rekindling the flame of your lantern. You went over the notes from the day before and smiled. Your handwriting was often sandwiched between his. You’d had a difficult time holding a pen for the first few days and your handwriting was atrocious. There had been times where you’d been too dazed with exhaustion so Liu would take over and explain what he was writing down. He was incredibly considerate.

You drifted to sleep leaning against the wall behind your narrow bed, book in your arms. In your very brief dreams you’d been seated with a young Kung Lao in the field outside of your grandparents’ farm. The more you remembered of him the more you could see the man he’d grown up to be.

A knock against stone startled you awake and you jumped upright. Standing in your doorway, peering through the curtain was Liu Kang. He seemed surprised.

“Did I wake you?” He stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him for privacy. How long had you slept? Crap.

“What time is it? Did I sleep through training?”

“No.” He laughed and it was a welcome and comforting sound. “It’s quite late but I was busy today and had no time until now. I wished to see you before bed.” He spoke of you with such fondness that if you hadn’t been half asleep then you probably would have blushed. You adjusted yourself and made room for him to sit next to you on the bed as you often had while reading. He joined you gratefully. You watched as he brushed his thumb over the prayer beads that often went from wrapped around his wrist to his palm and back again. “Tomorrow is going to be difficult, Y/N.”

You guessed that he would be the one training you. He was one of the only warriors with the marking that stayed in Raiden’s Temple besides Kung Lao that you knew of.

“Promise not to pull any punches, okay?”

“I knew you would say that.” He nudged your shoulder with his.

“I mean it, Liu. It’s been over two weeks since this happened. I’m ready to fight. If I’m going to survive all of this… otherworldly supernatural nonsense then I have no choice. Besides that… I want to do this. I want to fight.”

“I need you to promise to be safe.”

“That’s very sweet, Liu, but I’m a fighter. I’ve been fighting for years. I’m ready to help and more importantly, I’m ready to feel strong again. This thing with the poison and my arms? It’s taken a toll on me. I need to be okay.”

“I understand, I think.” He slipped the beads back around his wrist and caught a glimpse of the journal that you’d fallen asleep holding. Then he looked back toward the door. He was nervous. You could feel it.

“Are you okay, Liu?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up the journal and tapped the pages. “Would you like to study?”

“Can’t sleep, can you?”

“Oh, right. It’s late. I apologize. I woke you. I should let you rest.” He stood, bowed, and then turned to leave. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. If your arms hadn’t been aching, you would have pulled him back to you. Liu Kang was very aware of the strain that it would put on you to pull so he stopped dead in his tracks. He was always aware of what was going on around him and your aching arms appreciated that more than ever.

“You can stay. We can keep reading. I’d like that.” You insisted. Liu Kang smiled and so you let go of his hand, realizing that you’d been holding it for perhaps too long. He grabbed a hefty book that had been resting beneath your side table. You’d made your way a quarter through it over the past few days. Then you sat together, leaning against the wall. He read to you and his soothing voice nearly lulled you back to sleep. It provided you with a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a long time. Studying with him, even in your worst moments of pain, had become a fond memory.

The words were familiar and so you snapped one eye open. “We already read this.” You waited for a pause in his natural cadence.

“No, we did not.”

“We did, look.” You pointed to your journal and the scribbles in it from the night before. Your handwriting really was terrible. You could make out bits and pieces of it. Liu had the patience of a saint for trying to decipher it. He squinted at the letters.

“I can’t read that. No one can read that, Y/N.” He tapped the page you had pointed to. “That could say almost anything. Are you bored with the history of the Wu Shi Academy?”

“No! We were just further along than this, that’s all. Look, just…” You shoved the journal in front of the book and he laughed. His laugh was sweet and filled with warmth. “I think that this is highlighting this passage here about the foundations and the energy wells beneath it…”

“You can’t possibly read that. We have established that it’s gibberish.”

“I wrote it! I can sort of make out little bits…”

“We have to work on your penmanship, Y/N.”

“I got all sliced up where the tendons and stuff are. They’re still healing!” You whined and then pouted. Liu took the journal and set it on the bed just beyond your feet. You reached past him and turned the pages of the book, searching for the next chapter. “At least get to the part with the arena. You promised that we would learn about that next. You went on and on about it.”

“I did no such thing. You can admit that you’re bored.” Liu teased. You flipped the pages again without his permission so he tried to tug the book away and you jolted to the side with him, hair falling into your face, chopsticks now useless. Much to your surprise, as you righted yourself, Liu helped you and pushed your messy hair away and tucked some of it behind your ear. Your laughter subsided and you avoided his eyes as his admired you. You swore your heart skipped a beat. “Your hair.” He brushed a few strands between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh?” You dared to look into his dark eyes that were rivers of thought and emotion. You had no aspirations of unraveling them. You liked their mystery.

“The color.”

“Oh, yeah… I uh… I haven’t been able to keep up with dye here and it’s naturally white.” You pointed to the roots that had begun to show.

“White? That’s peculiar.”

“Wow, thanks. Yeah, I know it’s weird.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. It looks nice.” He seemed to realize that his hand was very much still in your hair. His tongue ran nervously over his lower lip while he was lost briefly in thought before he pulled his hand back. “We’ll read about the arena but only because you have chosen to entertain me at a late hour instead of turning me away.”

“And because you realized I was right.” You joked but your stomach was very much in knots. This was no time to be feeling butterflies in your stomach but there they were. Liu Kang made you feel butterflies. Literal butterflies. You hadn’t understood that idiom until now.

“There will be a test, Y/N.” He joked and smoothed out the pages of the book. You retrieved the journal and pen but had given up on writing notes for the night. Your arms were still aching and you were drained. Liu delighted in sharing a map of the ancient arena and reciting battles that he’d won and lost there. His voice was a soothing and familiar drone and before you realized it, you were falling asleep, head falling against his shoulder.

Instead of leaving you there to sleep, Liu Kang continued to read. Sometime later you woke up and the flame in the lantern had gone dim. Liu was still seated next to you, his head now rested atop yours. From his soft, slow breaths, you guessed that he had fallen asleep too. The book was rested neatly on top of your journal as if he had made the decision to put it aside and stay. You should wake him and send him back to his room. He would be more comfortable there. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay. He’d chosen to stay so you decided to let him have his choice.

For the first time since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple, you went to sleep feeling secure and comfortable.

Next Chapter >>

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bubblegumbeech · 3 years

Text

The Librarian’s Trick

Day one Ectoberhaunt: Trick or Treat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34213519

Wes was certain this Cassius guy was a ghost. He had to be. Humans didn’t live on the outskirts of town in large decrepit clock towers that Wes was pretty sure didn’t exist last week .

Humans didn’t have red eyes and white hair (unless they had a condition called Albinoism, Wes had looked it up. But Albinoism also meant they had no melanin anywhere and Cassius Dark was decidedly tan in an admittedly attractive but decidedly not Albino kind of way)

Humans didn’t have fangs when they smiled but normal teeth whenever Wes tried to point out that He had FANGS. They were right there!!!

Humans didn’t spend all their time either with Danny Fenton (who was Also very much a ghost!! Which should be in the list of proof but no one believes it so it’s seperate but still!) or mysteriously absent.

And humans didn’t seem to know everything all the time but talk like a bad astrology website.

So Wes was going to find a way to prove it.

His first try had him sneaking a “ghost translator” he didn’t remember the stupid name Fenton’s dad called it when he bought it with his allowance, into the library where Cassius Dark supposedly worked.

Supposedly, because while he could be found there, Wes had never actually seen him doing anything other than reading. And it was never a book Wes recognized, like, he wasn’t reading the Twilight series or anything. The last book Wes saw had been a large ancient looking tome written in a language Wes didn’t recognize. But Everytime he tried (subtly! He was super nonchalant about it!) to take a picture it ended up blurry!! And No Kyle, it wasn’t because he was bad at taking photos .

But that didn’t matter because Wes had a different plan now. He was going to use the Fentons’ new version of their “ghost translator” thing, and see what happened. It was supposed to be both a translator and a truth decoder at the same time. So no matter what a ghost said, the device should say what they actually mean. Or something.

With Danny, a bunch of innocuous stuff went off around him, but people always hand waved it as faulty tech. Wes wasn’t sure that was the case, in fact he was positive it wasn’t. But if he could get something useful to build up from, that would be a good start. And every good reporter needed a start.

He stepped up to the Library’s front desk, where Cassius was sitting reading what was clearly a spell tome if the different summoning pentagrams in the open page Wes could see were anything to go by.

“Welcome Young Weston,” Cassius said, the hint of a smile hidden behind his red eyes as he closed his book. Wes could swear they were glowing slightly. Geez did this guy get his ‘how to pretend to be human’ classes from Fenton ?

… that would certainly explain why no one ever believed Wes, since that was a long beaten dead horse in his closet.

He, very discreetly, had the device hooked up to one of his earphones, which he kept in one of his ears like any normal less than perfectly mannered teenager as he asked Cassius Dark his questions.

“Excuse me sir? Do you work here?” he started with, it was a more or less innocuous question and one he actually wanted the answer to.

Cassius Dark smiled. “I do.”

My Job is all that was, is, and shall be. That which I set as my goal is beyond mortal comprehension and those I call master shall fall to my machinations. But yes, I get paid for sitting at this desk and answering questions sometimes. I am a ghost, fear me.

Wes tried not to sweat too obviously. What the fuck?

“Can you tell me where the journalism section is?” Wes decided to make a tactical retreat, at least his voice didn’t crack.

“Straight back for eight shelves and then turn right. It’s next to the Non-fiction books.”

I know what you’re looking for, I know why you are here. I know the exact time of your death and what will happen next. Your efforts amuse me though. I am a ghost, fear me.

What Wes did next was not exactly fleeing. But it wasn’t not fleeing either.

He’d have to try something else.

The next thing he wanted to try was a bit riskier. If you thought about it a certain way. But it also wasn’t if you thought about it the way Wes did.

He was going to use a phase-proof net.

Genius, because unlike the translator machine thing, it would actually stop the ghost from attacking Wes if it got angered. Which it would, probably, since Wes was throwing a net at it.

The plan was really simple though, he’d gotten a very large net, paid extra for the little aim thing, practiced half a billion times of his brothers before they went to the parents and got him grounded for a week, and then memorized the path Cassius Dark took in the mornings to go to his “job” at the library.

Right now he was hiding in one of the leafier trees, right above the path that Cassius always used, waiting.

And waiting.

And… waiting.

Honestly he was about to go home and was fairly certain this guy was going to be like, super late to work, when he finally appeared.

Wes wasted no time aiming, making sure the trajectory was absolutely perfect, and firing the net off. He was just about to jump in celebration, watching the net as it curled slightly around its target, but before it could hit and wrap around him, Cassius was suddenly not there.

Or he was, but just a little bit to the left, so that the net sailed harmlessly past.

Wes cursed.

The third one was fool proof. It had to be.

Which was why Wes was staring at a large conspiracy board, covered in paparazzi-esque shots of the librarian and random notes he’d taken, all connected with a dizzying amount of red string.

“Kyle, seriously. I need to figure out what kind of ghost he is or he’s always going to have the upper hand!!”

Kyle just rolled his eyes and continued playing his video game, as if he didn’t care that Wes had set up his very important planning and plotting in the middle of the living room so long as it didn’t interfere with his own plans.

“It has to be pretty powerful, he was able to dodge my net before it even touched him. And the translator thing clearly said ‘my goal is beyond comprehension’ or something,” Wes mused, “and he also said his job was like, everything?”

Wes checked his notes, “yeah, ‘all that is was and shall be’. What could he mean by that?”

His very annoying and clearly not taking this as seriously as he should brother just chuckled. “I don’t know Wes, maybe he can see the future?”

That… no. That’s way too OP. Just the thought of it sent a shiver down Wes’ spine. There was no way a ghost could see the future right?

Right?

He had to test this theory.

But how do you even test something like that?

“Kyle, how would you test if someone could see the future?”

“Throw something at the back of their head and see if they dodge?” He answered way too quickly.

Wes thought about it for a moment. “No, what if they just have really good reflexes?”

“Oh huh, I guess that could be true. No idea then.” He shrugged and Wes had to fight the urge to throw something at the back of his head.

Whatever. He had to make plans.

He’d tried just throwing things. It was risky, and kind of terrifying, but Kyle was right it was the first that came to mind.

But Cassius never dodged. He was always just, not where Wes thought he was. Or Wes had really bad aim, which he didn’t!!! He was a basketball ace!! He had great aim! And great situational awareness!!

So why couldn’t he hit Cassius Dark?

Obviously it was because he could see the future. And the smug smile he always had when he knew Wes was looking reminded him an awful lot of a certain other Phantom.

Ask him about his family.

Easy enough. Especially without the Fenton’s weird translator because that might have been a bit terrifying. And also this time he had back up.

He dragged Kyle by his sleeve into the library.

“Mr. Cassius!”

Cassius looked up from his book, removing the delicate reading glasses balanced on his nose. “Can I help you Mr. Weston?”

“Yes!” He smiled broadly, taking out a small notebook that he had used to take notes on the suspicious and ghoulish things going on around town until it was mostly shreds of paper. “I’m writing an OP ED on the town library, and would like to know more about the librarian. Can you answer a few personal questions?”

Kyle snorted and Wes had to elbow him in the side to get him to shut up. He was here as back up, not to ruin his plan.

“So,” he began, “is Cassius a family name?”

“No.”

Wes nodded. And then frowned. Did ghosts have families? Supposedly they were alive once right? At least that was the general idea, Wes thought.

“So what can you tell us about your parents? Like, what’s your father’s name?”

Cassius raised an eyebrow, and had a soft smile filled with good humor. Wes felt it hit him like a threat. What was this ghost hiding?

Well, other than the fact that he’s a ghost.

“I can’t tell you much I’m afraid. My mother is long gone and I never had a father.”

Kyle grimaced and elbowed Wes himself before saying, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s no matter,” Cassius replied, still smiling, “I may yet see her again.”

Ah, so either she wasn’t dead or he’s convinced she became a ghost too. That made sense. It could be his unfinished business as they say among the paranormal hunters. At least, the not fight-y and crazy ones.

“So Dark was your mother’s name?” Wes asked, wondering if he could maybe find any records on her where he had failed to find them on Cassius himself.

The smile slid right off his face. Wes and Kyle both felt the subtle chill in the air as Cassius leaned back and looked off to the side, as if to glare at something that wasn’t there. “No, I’m afraid Dark is my ex-husband’s name.”

“Why keep it?” Kyle asked, completely ignoring the danger of the situation.

The smile came back, except this time instead of soft and barely there as if he were indulging a child, it was sharp and twisted. He chuckled at an inside joke no one else in the room would ever understand and then he said, “Well, it’s not like he has any use for it now.”

Wes paled. Had he killed his husband?!

After a hasty retreat from the library Wes treated Kyle to a milkshake and fries at the nasty burger just as he had promised. Payment for going along with his ‘weird ghost theories’.

But Wes couldn’t eat, he was too busy thinking. This one actually helped! He found information about the ghost’s previous life! He had a mother, but not a father, and had a husband.

With the current politics it was one of two options. Either he was from a previous culture that allowed men to marry each other, or he was a more recent ghost than Wes had been expecting. He had already taken out his laptop and was scrolling through obituaries with the surname Dark, trying to think if he knew any off the top of his head that might have been in town when they died.

Nothing particular came to mind.

Wes’ thinking was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious slurping noise from his brother. He shot him a glare, but Kyle didn’t react. Wasn’t even looking at him. Instead he was looking out the window and watching one of the daily ghost attacks with Phantom playing hero as always.

“You know, it’s kinda cool that they’re hiring actors to build the town’s lore like that,” he said, clearly ignoring the obvious evidence of ghosts right outside his window.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Wes groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He needed coffee or something, it was a shame the Nasty Burger only served sludge no sane person would drink.

Kyle finally looked away from the window, his eyes wide as if he was the one confused. “You know, how they got the librarian to say he was married to Pariah Dark? And then imply he’s the reason he’s a ghost?”

Wes felt like the seat underneath him had suddenly disappeared. “Where did you get That from?!”

“He said his ex-husband was named Dark! Pariah Dark’s Ghost Zone show is the first thing that comes to mind!” Kyle argued back. “Isn’t it?”

Holy shit this guy was married to the ghost king.

He thought back to the ominous answers he’d gotten that first day from the Fentons’ translator. Maybe he should leave this one alone.

Wes was at the library, studying quietly and absolutely avoiding the librarian. Not that he’d seen him today, but it didn’t hurt to keep his head down. With any luck the guy had a short memory and would forget Wes had been trying to find a way to out him to the town.

A portal ripped from the air in front of him, sending a static energy throughout the library and causing Wes’ hair to stand on end. It was a swirling purple, deeper and more… well more than most of the natural portals that Wes had seen appear around town.

He wanted to scream, but years of living in Amity Park had fully trained that out of him. Screaming was the number one way to get a ghost locked on you as their first target. Especially if you were there when the portal opened.

Before Wes could even think to duck under the table he was using a figure stepped out of the portal, poised and composed. He had a deep purple hood that seemed to swirl with the fabric of galaxies and a large ornate clock embedded into his chest. His skin was a rich blue and he had glowing red eyes.

Wes recognized him immediately.

“Oh, hello Mr. Weston, is there something I can help you with?” Cassius Dark asked.

#Danny Phantom #ectoberhaunt 2021 #clockwork dp #wes weston dp #background dark ages #Bee's writing #fanfiction

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

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Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 3

"Her heart belonged to someone who couldn't stay"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the Stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 5,300

Warnings: mild angst, violence, badly written missions(I'm sorry), fluff

A/N: this song is so fun, and as always with this series I suggest listening to the song of the chapter. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

A/N: a big thank you for @chrissquares for making these amazing dividers! And thank you @nacho-bucky for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and on YouTube

"Hydra is moving fast and advancing, tomorrow they are going to make a move on a not so secret lab in Germany which works on energy cores, we do not know the exact thing that they are after but we are going to stop them from getting it. Reindeer games you are quite familiar with Germany so try not to take over it this time." Tony projected then the layout of the place. You didn't dare look at Loki, you already knew the scowl he had on his face, barely distinct but you knew it was there.

"Why can't we just warn them today and ambush Hydra?" Clint asked from the end of the table. But you didn't look at him.

You strategically chose your sit, no temptation to look at Loki, not returning the looks that you knew he would send you. No memory of just earlier today. Hell, you still felt the ghost of his lips on yours.

"We suspect that with the knowledge, they might try to strike a deal with Hydra and in exchange of money, they will give them the supply they want. It's safer for us if they start on bad terms and we step in to make sure it all ends."

"We only got a handful of the weapons they created, so be aware of that and stay safe. That lab is intricate and big. Bucky and Clint will be on guard outside, take out any Hydra agents that may lurk guarding outside. The rest of us will spread out to protect and evacuate the relatively innocent folks, and the others take out the Hydra super guilty folks. Point Break, Horny Head," you bit back a laugh. "Try to see if there is anything Asgardian in the Hydra weapons."

You were the first out of the door after it ended. You were not going to wait to see what will happen. You almost felt like a prey, his prey, and he was about to catch you any second now.

"Y/N, are you not going to stay?" Steve asked when you were about to head out making you turn to face him, your eyes couldn't help but momentarily wander who Loki who thankfully had his eyes lowered. "We were going to review the mission details."

"Oh no, I'm feeling a little tired today," you tried to hold Steve's eyes but you knew he knew you better than anyone here, well almost. "Just fill me in tomorrow."

You did not see the look Steve gave the raven haired god when he watched you leave.

How could Loki not stare?

Just a couple of days ago his life was empty of you, and then you entered it again knocking the breath out of him just like the first time he saw you.

And just a couple of hours ago you were in his arms and he was kissing you like he did that one time he came home to you after a hard day with his father, and hel, you kissed him like you did that time he came back from a long fight after a week of being absent from your touch. Your kisses always reminded him what he was fighting for, despite the treatment from his family, he fought through to get to his solace, to get to you.

And now he is back to nothing.

And you are back in an empty room where his presence still lingered. Just like the night he left.

•

Out on the hanger, you were on the open quinjet ready to go when you felt a presence behind you.

"What exactly can you do?" you turned to him after you tightened the dagger strap on your leg.

"Why does it matter?" you went further inside the quinjet, at the very least you didn't want wondering eyes on you.

"I want to know what happened to you." The question made you look back at him. You couldn't figure him out now, he was just as different as you were but that's not it- he left you, no explanation, and now he is here kissing you and wondering about you as if he actually cares. But then again, why would he leave if he cared?

"I don't know what happened, I started to feel bad and I thought it was just a virus or something, but then I started seeing things… and then I just had these powers." You sighed, there were too many incidents before you understood what was happening.

"Nothing prompted it?" he pressed. He was almost towering over you now as you stood against the wall.

"No, not that I know of at least."

"What are they?"

"I can manipulate people's vision and emotions. I alter their reality as I like and control what they'll feel." You looked down then. "That's what I did to you."

"You put me in the invasion in New York, making me scared." You only nodded to him, you didn't like using your powers but sometimes they are needed. As if he read your mind. "You know that it's-"

You saw Natasha and Tony walk into the quinjet then, followed by the two supersoldiers who found you in the corner. You saw the strange look on their faces.

"I know exactly what it is Loki, now we need to focus on the mission." You walked around him and went away, sitting in the co pilot seat next to Natasha.

"Anything interesting happened today?"

"No Nat, nothing. Let's just get to that lab." You helped her start everything, ignoring the look she gave you at the answer.

"Thor?" Steve called to the god as the two went aside to talk out of earshot.

•

It was colder than you thought. Now you could only pray to any god out there, maybe Greek just strictly out of spite, that the lab will be much warmer.

"At this point, I think we lost the element of surprise boys." Natasha said through the comms as you drove towards the lab, snow covering the ground mostly white but as you got closer and more agents appeared it started to look red.

Bucky and Clint were on top of the trucks, shooting the guys that were securing the lab building from a distance.

With Thor and Loki taking down the guards on the tower, blasts came from besides you.

"Bucky, on our right, take them out." You yelled to Bucky who turned and blasted the vehicle and the agents in it.

"They're out, now could you just try to keep us steady? I don't want to fall off of this thing." He complained as you made another twisted turn, avoiding getting wrecked into a tree or a guard tower.

"You're a goddamn supersoldier, I'm sure you'll manage. Plus, it seems like we will have to leave the vehicle behind soon." You looked at the blockade just before you and Natasha.

"In three?" she asked and you nodded to her, pulling out your guns and shooting the men in front of you.

Then the blockade hit the cars. Bucky, Clint, Natasha, and you jumped out of it and over the blockade, knocking some of the guards.

You looked up and saw Loki fight. You've never seen him fight before.

He brought down yet another tower, pulling out knives out of nowhere and then disappearing behind the guards and he knocked the tower to the ground, its wooden form breaking down in pieces.

"Y/N look out!" you heard Steve calling out to you, he came in with his motorcycle, knocking out a Hydra agent who was about to attack you.

"Thanks Steve!" you called him and went to move away and fight.

"No, hop on, I need coverage." You nodded to him despite his bowl of crap. Hopping on the motorcycle behind him, you shot whoever was in sight. You got closer to the lab and in front of you a new rush of agents lined up. "Thor, we need you here."

"Oh no," you groaned. "You're going to do something really stupid, aren't you?"

"No."

"He always does something stupid, Y/N you should know him better." Bucky retorted and you laughed.

Thor came up besides the two of you. Getting down behind some rocks you guarded them.

"It seems like they are lining up for us."

"How kind of them" Thor raised his hammer and Steve his shield and it pounded as they hit each other, the energy sending the guards and the tank flying, obstructing them and their weapons.

Almost at the lab, a tall man stood in front of you, he had a weird shaped weapon in his hand, before you could advance and use your powers on him, the sky suddenly turned dark, you saw lightning and then his pointed weapon shot lightning energy towards you. It was too fast but you were whisked away before it could hit you. One of Loki's hands covered your head while the other snaked around your middle.

He pulled a long spear and was about to shoot it forward when he saw the man had disappeared.

"Brother have you seen that?" Loki called to Thor who ran next to the two of you. Loki still held you, but you pushed him away with a small thank you, looking at Thor instead and taking a few steps backwards.

"What was that?" he looked at his brother.

"It can't be, I destroyed it long ago." Thor shook his head.

"You saw what happened, it had to be it. Nothing else could do it." The blue eyes turned to you. "Are you okay darling?"

"I'm just fine, I can take care of myself." Pulling out your own knives, you saw Natasha and Pietro up ahead. "And don't call me that."

After you left Thor came up to his brother.

"What are you doing? What is going on with her? Loki were you-"

"That is not your business, stay focused on the fight. We need to find that weapon they used."

•

The inside of the lab was quieter than outside. Tony and F.R.I.D.A.Y detected the German scientists and you split up to look for them, and hopefully take whatever energy core Hydra was here for.

Jumping a story down, it was weirdly quiet.

"Hey guys, I'm in the east wing, something feels wrong." You waited but nothing came back but static, "Guys? Fuck."

Turning around you saw Hydra agents coming out of a door you hadn't seen before, they started to shoot at you, coming from both of your side, you used one guy for coverage, making them shoot at each other. Locking eyes with one of them, he soon fell with a scream, eyes foggy. You slit the throat of the guy you used and focused on him instead. In a field of enemies, he got up and shot everyone he saw around him. Once satisfied you let him fall down alongside all the others he shot.

You saw other agents coming your way but there he was again, Loki pulled you behind him and shot daggers forward and duplicating himself. You saw a couple running away to what you only assumed was another secret door but you lost them as you turned a corner.

"Guys, there's nothing here." The captain voiced through the comms.

"The comms are working again, great." You sighed.

"What do you mean there's nothing here?"

"I'm saying that this was a trap, there wasn't anything special that these scientists were working on, this is not what we thought it was."

"How could we have been wrong here?"

"I don't know but we have to go now, I don't like this."

Soon enough on the quinjet you tended to Clint's wound, he took a nasty shot. And your wounds weren't near as bad.

"Could they have had something that seemed insignificant to them but Hydra needed it for something?" you heard Tony talk to Steve.

"No, they weren't working on anything right now. The lab was for research, not for weapons."

You picked up on another conversation then.

"We have to tell father what we saw, Loki."

"No, I searched the building, and I didn't see the guy nor his weapon. Father will just send an army here when we don't even know what it is we are searching for." Loki reasoned.

You just tried to clear your mind and focus on helping your friend.

•

The sunset painted the rooms a lovely shade of orange from the windows. It was quiet as people were either resting, or in the infirmary. You walked through the hallway leading to the Avengers elevator to take you to your room.

He came in front of you from the corner.

"Y/N,"

"Hi." You didn't know what to say now, he saved your life twice today.

"Are your wounds alright?" you let him inspect your hands and arms. This was new to him too, seeing you fighting like this.

"Don't worry, they'll heal." He still didn't take his eyes off of you, his delicate petal out here fighting and risking her life.

"Let me heal them." You leaned on one wall as he stood in front of you, covering your wounds with his hand. You heard him mumble a chant and your skin tingled. You told yourself it was from the spell.

Then he looked up at you, and the look in his eyes was one straight out of your daydreams.

"I should just tell you to leave but-" your breath shuddered, your mind trying to make peace with your heart's will.

"I never stopped thinking about you and I." He admitted, you put your hands on his chest and slowly they slipped up to his shoulders.

"I heard that you have some other girl now, I heard they'll be a wedding soon." The pain in your voice did not go unnoticed.

"It's true, but I never thought I'd find you again. That was arranged, nothing happened yet and nothing will happen."

"I never stopped thinking about you too." You bit your lip and pulled him closer to you. "We know exactly where this leads, why go in circles?"

"My love, we can just call it even. We can't ignore this forever." His hand caressed your cheek now, you leaned into him.

"We're always going to come back, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear." Your lips finally met, and you let every worry and fear go away, kissing him back with just as much passion and love.

And there it was again.

The first kiss.

"Will you stop messing it up?" you laughed at Loki as he tried to get the music player to work until he finally gave up and let you do it.

"That thing is just stupid midgardian technology, there is no use to it!" he complained as you magically managed to get it to work, a soft melody fell upon the room.

"I finally got you to agree to teach me, this is far from useless!" you laughed as you came up to him, playing with your dress as you twirled in it. You moved the furniture so you could dance in your living room.

"I don't understand why you even want to learn it, no one on Midgard knows it and it is not like you have balls around here anymore." It was quite barbaric to his taste.

"Yes but I want to learn this dance, I bet it is super pretty and elegant," just like you, you thought but didn't speak up. "I bet the balls there are amazing."

Loki showed you the right position and took your hand. He brought you close and prayed that you won't be able to hear his heartbeat.

"They are. Maybe one day I'll take you to see it," you had a bright smile on your face then. "You know, just so that these lessons won't be for nothing."

"Of course, whatever you say." You held onto him tighter as you almost fell. "I expect a nice dress too, I can't come to Asgard with a human earth dress."

He laughed at you, but it turned into a groan when you stepped on his feet, supposedly it was accidental.

"While you look beautiful in this dress, I bet you'll look just as beautiful in an Asgardian dress," you looked up at him surprised, you forgot how close you were, hel you forgot completely about the dance as you just stood there and swayed back and forth. "Like a true Asgardian goddess."

Loki didn't mean to say that but once it left his lips he couldn't even feel embarrassed about it, no he didn't even feel vulnerable when he saw the way you looked back at him. You moved your stare between his lips and his eyes.

"Do you really think that?" you whispered, scared to break whatever it is you have built in this room, in this moment.

"Absolutely." He closed the small distance and he already knew that he was a goner, you took his heart and mended it with your own. He could feel your passion in it, in your first kiss. He'll be damned if it will be your last. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him ever so closer, deepening the kiss. He smiled then before you pulled away just a bit, a huge smile graced your face and you lit up the room. Your red lipstick was smeared a bit, your bottom lip was swollen, and he wondered if he ever told you how much he liked it when you put this lipstick on.

"This was inevitable, wasn't it?" the smile never left your face and he didn't know what he did to deserve you.

"I'm afraid so." You couldn't keep in the giggle that escaped you, this man will be the death of you, you were sure of it.

He had never felt as loved as he did in that moment.

The kiss after a bad meeting.

Loki got to your home as soon as he could, he couldn't wait to be in your arms. His father was- well, his father as usual. He just needed some peace right now, and that was you.

He walked into your apartment, he saw your computer open on your desk with various papers all around it but he didn't see you.

"Darling?" Loki called you and you pocked your head out of the kitchen. You immediately took off the apron and went to him, he smiled at you even though he knew you'd see right through it- you always did.

When you reached him, you gave him a tight hug, playing with his hair until you felt him relax under you.

Then you pulled back and kissed him so delicately but it was all he needed. Your kisses surely had some magic laced in them, because you somehow made him feel completely content.

"I love you." He whispered to you.

"You what?" you must've heard wrong. You told him you loved him months ago, but you understood that he needed more time, it was harder for him to open up like that. But while he didn't say it, he surely made sure you felt it that night. Sleeping was not included in that.

"I love you." He repeated and you smiled, going to say it back, "Do I smell smoke?"

The kiss after he came back from war after a week of not seeing you.

The moment you saw the green shimmer from the living room, you got out of your bed and all but jumped on your boyfriend as he took off his armor. He managed to balance himself and you, but then you pulled away from the hug and attacked him with a bruising kiss, you gave him easy access to your tongue and tried to pull him closer by his hair.

"I missed you so much." You leaned your head against his forehead, you both panted heavily. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

He could see the moment the light bulb in your head lit up and he chuckled, he shook his head but he let you see for yourself, he knew it would calm you down.

You lifted his shirt up and saw the small cuts on his stomach.

"You're not okay! Loki come on, I need to clean these cuts." You dragged him to the bathroom and pulled out your first aid kit.

"Darling, I'm a god, these small cuts don't affect me." He rubbed your back but you didn't listen to him.

"And I'm your girlfriend so shut up and sit down. Maybe you got hit by a poisoned spear or something that is like- I don't know what's up there but I don’t care!" he saw how worried you were, eyes bloodshot, he hated to leave you. So he nodded and let you take care of him, his hand raked through your hair calming you down. He had never felt more cared for, or loved.

You swore at him all kinds of curses, telling him to stay safe and be more cautious.

He swore he was going to marry you someday.

•

Asgard felt different now. After you went back to your room, with a smile that you tried to hide but he caught, he and Thor went back to Asgard- they needed to check some stuff to make sense of what they saw. It was night now so luckily most of the people were sleeping. Most but not all.

As the princes walked through the corridors, lady Iyllir was there with her maids, which she quickly pushed away when she saw them.

"My princes, I am so glad to see you back in Asgard, it's almost midnight now how come you are still with your armor?" she frowned at the cuts and light bruises she saw in the dim light.

"We just got back, and we are both very tired so we are going-" Thor put a hand, keeping Loki in place.

"It is really late, I'm sure my brother will be happy to escort you back to your chambers?"

"Oh that would be great, thank you my prince, have a good night!" she bowed to Thor and took Loki's outstretched arm. He sent a nasty glare at his brother but walked with Iyllir towards her chambers.

"I hope you are okay, your cuts still haven't healed." She took his hand, gently examining the cuts.

"I assure you I am fine, these cuts will be healed soon. Midgardian weapons cannot wound me badly." He gave her a smile and she only nodded.

"I miss our time together, you are great company. I hope you are staying longer this time."

"We will be staying for a couple of days I assume."

"Oh, great, so tomorrow we can go to that nice garden that you said you will take me to!" she gave him a kiss on the cheek quickly before turning around and walking into her room. "Goodnight, my prince."

He groaned to himself, he did promise to take her there. He pondered about it as he went back to his room. The lady and he had quite a good time- that was before you came back into his life. He walked the long way around to his room.

•

"This place really is beautiful like you said." The redhead looked around at the flowers that were around them and the tall bushes that created a barrier from the outside of the garden.

"They have been using magic to grow the bushes around the entire ground, making them into walls of this place." He remembered what his mother told him about this place.

"Thank you for bringing me here, I never knew this place existed." She smiled at him and sat on the ground next to him.

"It's my pleasure," and for a moment those barriers made him go back to a couple of months ago, when he would wander around in thought about the lovely lady his father brought for him to meet, soon to arrange a marriage. "Did you manage to finish the book I gave you?"

"I did, it was really interesting. I find history fascinating so the book was splendid to read."

They talked like this for a few more hours, talking about books and exchanging stories.

Before he knew it, Iyllir got closer and closer to him, sitting right beside him. The silver tongued prince went silent when he saw her lean in, all the while smirking at the look on his face before returning her gaze to his lips.

He considered his options. You were his only love, perhaps you always will be, but will you stay after all that is over? Can he still come back to you? He remembered the reason he left, the moment was scorched in his mind but now things were different. Maybe this time he will be able to stay, would you let him? After all, all you agreed about was temporary, just for old times' sake.

Their lips touched now.

"I can't." Loki said, before leaning back from the offended girl in front of him.

"Why not? Our parents brought us together to marry."

"Perhaps yes, but while you are great company I am not ready for this yet. We should go back, I have a meeting to attend to soon."

When they got up, she refused to take his hand. It was a silent walk back.

•

"Thor, are you sure you checked it all?"

"I did Loki, the vaults were lacking multiple weapons. They were old ones. Do you think you could tell exactly what is missing?"

"I'll do my best." The vaults closed behind them and Loki started to scour the items present, while trying to find the missing.

"I saw you were taking a walk with lady Iyllir today."

"What about it?" Loki went deeper into the place, looking at the empty stands and mentally taking note of all the items that should be there.

"I also saw you were around Lady Y/N a lot. You still haven't told me how you know her." Thor studied his brother, following him to the big closet.

"I was on earth and I happened to meet her, I did tell you."

"I'm not as big of a fool as you think I am, I can see the way you look at her. And the way she looks at you."

Loki didn't know if he was relieved or frightened as he found a way out of this conversation when he opened the doors.

"My wand, Thor my wand is gone!" Loki's eyes went wide alongside Thor when they saw the other weapon that was missing.

•

"This is ridiculous, why is he throwing a party in the middle of this mess? We can't waste time Thor, we need to tell them what those Hydra mortals have." Loki scowled as he got through the people dancing in the crowded room.

"Will you keep it down Loki? These mortals don't know a thing. I'm sure Tony will listen to us when we find him.

Looking around the room, he saw several other faces he recognized, and then he saw you- grinning and laughing with a guy he did not recognize. One of the mutants- was her name Wanda? She came up to you with a hug, and joined in on the conversation. Maybe it wasn't like what he thought. He hoped so, when you looked straight at him. In the daze, he looked at the tight little skirt you wore, his mind was lost and didn't notice when you reached him. The crowd seemingly closing around you, a barrier that let you be alone without watching eyes.

"See something you like?" you smiled at him, he couldn't help but return it, not ashamed of looking at every inch of your body before answering you.

"Yes, very much" he put his hands on your waist, bringing you closer. You put your arms on his shoulders, keeping him close.

"We said we will start anew, right?"

"Yes." You leaned your head on his chest, and the two of you started swaying not along to the music but to your own heartbeats.

"I missed this, Loki. I missed us." You confessed to him, he didn't have to answer, you knew.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love that red lipstick of yours?" you chuckled and lightly kissed the side of his. He sighed at the contact and your heart fluttered at the red mark your lipstick left on him.

He brought your chin up with his hands and didn't spare a second before attaching his lips to yours. He didn't know how he survived without your kisses, without your touch. He actually did know, it was hel. He would go sleepless at night, conjuring up figures of you beside him but that could only help so much. When he missed you most, he would go to Heimdall and ask about you. He was the only one that knew after all, he was the only one who knew about his only weakness. But then so many things have happened, some distracted him from the loss of you until he got used to it, and some… some he had to keep you in his mind just to survive through the very worst things that were inflicted upon him.

But now that you were in his arms again, he knew it will be even harder to let go of you if you asked him to leave afterwards. And he made sure to show you how much he still loved you in the kiss until you parted and looked at him, your eyes begging.

"Take me home, Loki. Take me away."

With the temptation, it was something he couldn't deny the both of you.

The minute he teleported the two of you to your room, your lips were back on his, pulling him with you until you hit the bed.

You made quick work on taking off the white shirt he wore, as he unzipped your skirt, letting it fall to the ground before he picked you up and laid you beneath him on the bed.

You looked up at him, feeling whole again remembering all those other times you were just like this, he always had the same James Dean type daydream look in his eyes, right before he made sure you remembered who your heart belonged to.

He promised himself to show you how much he missed you, and make up for all those years apart.

You spent the next few hours devoting yourself to each other, you were sure everyone could hear you scream his name in pleasure. But you didn't find it in yourself to care when he made you feel this good.

•

"What do you mean you didn't get the weapon?" the agent backed away, scared.

"We didn't expect it, and besides- he was there!" begging for his life, he hoped he will get out of these woods alive, the weapon in front of him was powerful enough.

"Who was?"

"There were more of them than usual, we didn't expect him to be there- we couldn't get the weapon!"

"You will be given one last chance to do this right, if you fail I will make sure you pay the price for it."

He was then handed the weapon, wrapped in a cloth.

"Do you remember how to use it?" the agent considered it, before he grabbed it in its hilt.

"And this stone heals it, right?"

"Exactly, use it when I'm gone."

He did just that, pulling out the sword, examining the weight of its powers, looking at the gem stone, then turning back and stabbing the other agent behind him. He let him bleed, before finally taking out the stone, and he watched in wonder and the wound healed. This will be fun.

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love

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snowboiwinwin · 3 years

Text

The Boyz as my University Professors

Disclaimer: Some of my professors are evil bitches; none of the boys are truly evil and I am in no way implying they are or trying to make them look bad! I love the boys and I just thought it would be a fun thing to post :D

-------------------------------

Sangyeon:

the one professor that absolutely loves the topic of his class

super wholesome and smiley throughout the 90 minutes class time

getting super close to the camera (actually to the mic) because he is worried students won’t hear him well enough

always asking questions and encouraging students to interact

not offended when something isn’t clear and therefore students don’t know the answer

reading EVERY. SINGLE. MESSAGE written in the chat (sometimes students have mic problems or don’t wanna speak)

making everyone feel valid and appreciated

being super calm and relaxed

barely doing breakout-rooms cause he knows no one likes them

ending class always a little earlier cause “I know how stressful your life can get.”

just the cutest prof out there

Jacob:

another sweet guy

never holds class at its normal timeframe

just uploads all the files students will need (although attendance is supposed to be mandatory)

“you guys are all grown-ups, I trust you to decide yourself when it is the best time for YOU to study.”

constantly uses smileys and is therefore super popular with students

doesn’t teach many classes, cause which good prof does that? ugh

gets right back at students when they email him their concerns

and no, you don’t get half-assed answers

you get a very detailed answer, which is rare in university life

THANKS STUDENTS FOR SENDING HIM THEIR HOMEWORK!!!!

“Dear [name of stundet], thank you very much! 😊”

offers students to call him by his first name

“I’ll call you by your first name too if that’s okay... creates a more comfortable atmosphere!”

the best <3

Younghoon:

he is a savage professor

his look is hella scary and students fear taking his classes

but he is actually the coolest and most laid back dude ever

the first time class is held, he comes in, stone cold expression and literally throws his bag on the desk - everyone is hella scared

then he says, in the scariest voice ever, “We can have fun here in class, no problem, but i AM YOUR PROFESSOR. NOT YOUR FRIEND. Remember that.”

*everyone scared to death*

“Welcome to class everybody! My name is Mr. Kim and I am very looking forward to teach this class in our summer term! Feel free to ask any question that might come up and don’t hesitate to reach out to me whenever!”

no need to be scared, he is a sweetheart

strict and has high expectations, but won’t overdo it with homework or assignments

constantly jokes around but then switches back to being serious

he creates a nice atmosphere where students want to learn something and do it voluntarily

cares for his students and appreciates their hard work - especially during the pandemic

“I know this is not easy for any of us but I am so amazed by your guys’ work this semester. It was an absolute pleasure teaching you. I hope to see you guys again, but not in this class. Please don’t fail.”

I love him

Hyunjae:

omg, he is an absolute legend

class starts and he is doing his introduction part

the class i about british literature

“Welcome to this literature class, you are in for a long ride!”

so far so good right?

“Let me just say, British Literature is an ABSOLUTE shit show!”

when I tell you, I almost died hearing that (no offense to anyone, pls don’t take my profs words to heart... he lives for british literature 🥺)

he definitely has his students hooked with this one sentence

“the teacher that taught this class before me... what was he even talking about! I mean, british literature is so much more than what he made it out to be!”

basically starts ranting

teaches with so much passion

can’t forget the jokes here and there

also uses smileys which students seriously love (at least I do)

wants students to be informal with him as well

“moving on to this next topic... a little disclaimer before we start: I will go batshit crazy with this topic because I LOVE IT. So please tell me to shut up when I exceed the 10 minutes mark. Thank you!”

A savage legend that everyone loves

sadly only teaches a handful of classes as well

Juyeon:

super laid back and chill

does never check attendance and just trusts his students

usually talks most of the time and doesn’t ask too many questions

is super happy when students contribute though

but he isn’t one to force them

“I know your day has probably been really long, so it’s okay. I’m not taking this personal.”

his class is not based on theory but more on experiences he made

shares funny stories, mistakes he made and what he learnt from them

always gives the smallest and easiest homework ever

“please just share your experiences with these types of situations in our forum”

and he does not want to grade students based on an exam

“I have a better idea. In order to understand a certain topic, I want you to write a portfolio about it. It should be detailed but I won’t give you a number of words. Do what feels right and surprise me! Be creative, nothing will be worth a failing grade as long as you put in some effort.”

does split classrooms

one half is in the main room with him, the others are in breakout rooms, working on a certain topic

super chill and just not as hard as some other classes

but students definitely learn from him!

Kevin:

oh boy, students either gonna hate or love him

he is very kind and nice but he is STRICT

take his class serious and work or you will fail

although he has very high expectations, he will make sure students will be prepared for all the essays, assignments and presentations he throws at at them

no half-assed instructions, you will get the full program (as every student should!)

you have to write an argumentative essay but have no idea how to do that?

Professor Moon (students are allowed to call him Kevin) will explain an argumentativ essay in detail, will show examples and will tell you exactly what to put in it

having trouble finding sources?

Kevin will help you, just let him know!

Also a very empathetic teacher

something happened and you can’t attend class? Absolutely no problem

whenever something serious happens (for us it was a shooting), Kevin will cancel class and spare his students cause their well-being is more important

he doesn’t throw out A’s and B’s easily but when you do get such a grade in one of his classes... dude, you did a really good job

so as I said, he is either your fav or least fav professor... choose your side!

Chanhee:

he is a bitch (not really, but he gives the impression)

at first, he is that nice, bubbly professor

super friendly and kind

and his classes are absolutely okay! no biggie

or so they THOUGHT

his exams and progress tests or whatever ARE HELL

he makes it seem as everything is so easy and not overwhelming at all

BUT nothing is easy and everything is overwhelming

50 pages for a damn progress test two weeks into the semester!

the grading is so strict, you need at least 65% to pass! (maybe I am a baby but 65% is a lot for a passing grade hahaha)

but he confuses students

he is so kind and soft spoken

constantly smiling and in a good mood

but the exams????

are you sure you were the one creating them Mr Choi?

and yes, he is one of those professors that wants to be addressed by his last name (nothing wrong with that)

as I said, he confuses students

they don’t know what to think of him

at the end of the day he isn’t a bad guy

just not the type of professor the students would want in every single class for the rest of their lives

Changmin:

changmin is not your ordinary professor

because he is a big fan of team-teaching

so all his classes are taught by him and his dear colleague Haknyeon!

YAAAAY

I love this duo already

he is the part of the duo that is EXTREMELY motivated

he is is so hyper and so ready for teaching

his classes are always fun but also slightly overwhelming?

juts imagine having too much caffeine in your body

that is changmin being able to teach something he loves

that’s just the passion jumping out of him

he is constantly talking and laughing and throwing jokes left and right

he is having a good time!

super understanding and empathetic

and although everything seems fun and games

you will definitely learn from him!

he has this natural and authentic way of teaching in his body

it comes... naturally and it all makes sense somehow

although the class is packed with inside jokes and changmin teasing haknyeon

haknyeon doesn’t even have time nor the chance to speak

this is changmin’s time to shine!

they love and hate each other

but the students definitely love this iconic duo

Haknyeon:

as I mentioned; haknyeon and changmin are a team

it wasn’t really something haknyeon wanted but... how could you possibly say no to baby changmin? 🥺

so yes, changmin’s cute face got him into this situation

he doesn’t even have to prepare anything for class - his lovely colleague does the talking anyways

he usually lays back and relax

he frowns into the cam cause he tries to intimidate students

but they know he is a soft guy anyways

while changmin is talking, he is chatting to students in the chat

as I mentioned earlier, not everyone wants to unmute themselves and therefore posts in the chat

so he is having chats with students, often not even related to the topic

“Please excuse me, I will be absent for a few minutes - mommy duties” -student

“Don’t worry Miss! I know exactly what you mean... children.” -haknyeon

whenever he tries to get a word in, he has to talk VERY LOUDLY

he literally has to talk over changmin

but changmin doesn’t mind, he just smiles, nods and listens

changmin is super proud whenever haknyeon speaks

and haknyeon thinks that’s very sweet

but that thought passes as soon as changmin makes a joke about him

at the end of the day, they love each other at least to a certain extent and students adore them

Sunwoo:

he is not an ordinary professor either

class time? virtual meetings?

nope, not with sunwoo

again, in the classes the boyz teach, attendance is mandatory

mandatory? sunwoo has never heard of her

he doesn’t require students to attend meetings and homework is also something he does not expect from them

he uploads powerpoint-presentations with videos and audio of him explaining everything in the presentation

but the boy is clumsy

and he is not good with anything technical

so him dropping his glass and spilling his water all over his lap?

well, students will see this in the video

“... and it’s important to- YAAAAH OH NO....”

*awkward silence*

“I spilled my water... if you haven’t seen.”

*more awkward silence*

“Give me a minute”

*the video continues and sunwoo is nowhere in sight*

after ten minutes of an empty chair, sunwoo returns and continues as if nothing has happened

sometimes his kids walk in and dab in the camera without him noticing

“and then - Hey! I am at WORK.”

he loves it though

and he posts these “fail” videos on purpose

“I want to show you, that it is okay to not be perfect and to not be in control of everything! Stuff like that happens, especially with us being in home-office! And don’t worry, if your mom walks in or whatever, in my classroom no one gets judged! This is life and now that we have to do everything from home, the unexpected is unavoidable!”

Another students’ favorite

Eric:

I would love to imagine him as this savage prof I have in mind... but no <3

he is a sweet guy

also super obsessed with the class he is teaching

he is LIVING for it

usually experiences technical problems right before class starts

“oopsie daisy, sorry guys... might take a few minutes *giggles*”

and no, it’s not a creepy giggle but a really cute one, I swear!

constantly has a pen in his hand and clicks it absentmindedly while teaching

students constantly hear the clicking sound... or when the pen falls to the ground.... which happens every five minutes

he constantly forgets to mute himself whenever he wants students to work by themselves and all they hear is him chugging down his water or whatever drink he has prepared

also sends out super sweet emails

but due to him being a young dude, he wants students to call him by his last name

he also calls students by their last name but he does use smileys to lighten the professional mood that comes with honorifics

overall a very motivated but extremely kind-hearted dude

#the boyz #scenarios #kpop #imagines #reactions #headcanon #the boyz as #eric sohn #jacob bae #kevin moon #ju haknyeon #younghoon #hyunjae #juyeon #sunwoo #sangyeo #chanhee #changmin

87 notes · View notes

blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

Some People Do | Nathan MacKinnon

title from an Old Dominion song of the same name. highly recommend a listen while reading.

the only other words I have are that I cried while writing this.

length: 6.2k words

I know that time just keeps going on And words by themselves can't right all the wrongs

No one ever claimed that dating an NHL player was easy. In fact, it was hard as hell. Dating the face of a franchise, the savior of a franchise, was hard as hell. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Nate. You loved him more than anyone else, more than you sometimes thought was possible. But sometimes you wondered if your relationship was doomed from the start, if carrying the weight of the expectations of Denver on Nate’s shoulders was too much for both of you to handle.

Nate had proclaimed himself unromantic before, but you didn’t really need flowers and extravagant gifts. With Nate, it was always the little things. He would cook you breakfast in the mornings before you left for work and he for practice. He would sneak into your apartment when you had a long day at work and clean up. (Never laundry though. He always said he was too scared of fucking that up.) It was letting you cuddle on the couch, no questions asked, no words spoken, on days you really needed it; he always seemed to know about those days even before you did. You knew the other boys teased Nate sometimes, everything from ribbing him about being whipped to roasting him for his somewhat abysmal gift-giving skills. Nate would just blush and give them that shy little smile you loved so much.

That’s the way things were for a long time. You were both happy, comfortable. You wondered sometimes, on the hardest nights, if you had gotten too comfortable. If you had forgotten just where you were, who you were with, and how lucky you were that Nate had ever given you the time of day in the first place.

You missed the drama of the Avalanche’s historically bad, never-before-seen debacle of a year that had been the 2016-2017 season and came into Nate’s life when they were back on their feet, making a name for themselves in the standings again. You still saw the damage it had done to him, though, in the way he blamed himself for losses, took them a little harder than anyone else– except maybe Gabe– in the way he dialed up his intensity even stronger than ever until he was satisfied. Except he was never satisfied, probably would never be, bar winning a Cup or three.

The Avs dug themselves out a hole. And then they hit a wall again.

It was the same old shit that always seemed to dog the team, injury after injury, games that just never seemed to go their way, no matter how hard they fought.

October started out fine. They won more than they lost, and it looked like they could have a chance at being something this year. The end of October came with a string of losses. Mikko went down with a lower-body injury on Halloween.

November continued a downward spiral. Nate stopped scoring, Burky broke his wrist, and they only won a handful of games the entire month. Nate started coming home late from the arena, sweaty and exhausted; you knew he was running himself ragged, literally, on the treadmill and on drills. His blue eyes were hard as stone, and the set of his jaw grew more tense with each loss the team strung together.

Road trips were the hardest. From the start of your relationship, you and Nate made a point to FaceTime during roadies. You looked forward to those calls all day, because no matter how terrible the game had been, Nate would see you and smile. You would always do anything for him to smile. The calls continued that terrible season, and for a while, it seemed like nothing had changed. Nate’s eyes were more tired than usual, his brow permanently furrowed, but you would answer the phone, and that would all disappear for a moment when he grinned at you.

You had just gotten out of the shower when your phone started ringing with a FaceTime call. You were surprised to see that it was Nate. You hadn’t been officially dating for very long at all, and he had only left for the road trip that morning.

“What the hell is on your head?” was the first thing out of Nate’s mouth when you answered the call. Somewhere off camera, you could hear Tyson Barrie cackling.

Your hand flew up to your hair, which was wrapped in a towel. “It’s a towel, dumbass. And I just got out of the shower, I’m not wearing makeup or anything,” you whined.

Nate rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when Tyson leaned into frame. “Hi, Y/N!” he yelled. Nate flinched.

There was a moment of darkness and what sounded like the two wrestling on the bed for a moment, before a whispered, “Get out of here!” and a door closing. “I’m sorry about him,” Nate said, picking his phone back up.

You just laughed. You had only met Tyson one time so far, and he seemed like fun, if not a little crazy. “Let me just-” You reached up to tug the towel off your head.

“No, don’t! I mean, I think it’s cute,” Nate said. You froze, staring at his blurry face on your phone screen. You were pretty sure he was blushing in the shitty hotel light. “I just- I missed you, and I don’t care what you look like. I mean-wait, I don’t want you to think you need to have makeup or shit on for me to think you’re beautiful.” Yeah, he was definitely blushing now. He was also smiling a little bit, cautiously, as if he was afraid of your response.

You smiled back, settling in against the pillows on your bed, and saying, “Nate, I literally saw you this morning.” He shrugged.

“Wanted to see your face again,” he mumbled. Then, “Can I call you tomorrow after our game, too?”

He did call you the next night, and the night after that, and then roadtrip FaceTime calls became a routine.

As the season went on, you waited by the phone every night Nate was out of town, but slowly the calls became few and far between, until they stopped entirely.

Most wouldn't forgive what I put you through But I'm here tonight, hoping some people do

Nate started watching game film obsessively, coming home and sitting up for hours. He would watch his own clips, his teammates’ clips, clips from every other team, watching for any mistake or flaw, some way to fix this. He’d always been so serious about schedules and routines, but he started coming to bed later and later. You always tried to get Nate to come to bed with you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and murmuring a, “Babe, c’mon, it’s getting late,” but he’d shrug you off and say back, “Just a few more minutes.”

You resigned yourself to going to bed alone. Cox started laying in Nate’s spot on the bed.

The Penguins came to town. The slump continued, for the team and for Nate. Nate got benched. It was December, and all the Crosbys and MacKinnons had come to town, too, planning to celebrate Christmas a little early while everyone could be together.

Bednar had told Nate he wouldn’t be playing against the Pens following a morning skate. Cale told you he had broken his stick against a wall afterwards. His temper followed him home, came back with a vengeance, and you would never forget the sadness on Taylor’s face and the anger on Sarah’s when he snapped at Taylor over something stupid and let the door slam behind him for good measure. He didn’t talk to any of you for the rest of the night, and he drove to the arena alone.

The Avs won in a game that was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Nate came home in a slightly better mood, apologized to Taylor, and started channeling his anger into his time on the ice instead. It might have had something to do with the fact that you were sure he hadn’t missed the way you flinched when he had yelled.

The end of December saw a win streak for the Avs and a scoring streak for Nate.

“I thought about asking for a trade,” Nate said casually one January night. It was the All-Star break, and Nate had found a cabin on a lake in California to rent for bye week. He didn’t look up at you as he said it, gazing instead up at the stars, and your heart broke.

Nate’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and it had been a comforting weight, but suddenly it felt like it would crush you. You hadn’t been in Denver for the drama of the last teammate that had requested a trade midseason, but you knew the tale, knew the bitterness that was still in that locker room. You knew how it could destroy a team. And you’d had no idea Nate was even considering it.

He kept talking. “Thought about trying to go somewhere where people didn’t care about hockey, somewhere where it didn’t matter if I had been a fluke.” His voice broke. “I just want out sometimes. Get away from all the fucking expectations, the hope that I’ll bring the Cup back to Denver, that I can be the next Sidney Crosby, just the next best thing out of Cole Harbour.” It was the first time you had ever heard Nate say Sid’s name like that, with venom and bitterness.

You were speechless, couldn’t find the words to respond to Nate. You weren’t even sure he wanted you to respond, to argue with him. So you just shrugged off his arm from your shoulders and pulled him into your chest, resting your chin on his head as you watched the stars together.

The trade deadline passed. Nate still wore an A for the Colorado Avalanche, and no one would ever know any differently.

I know you're hurt, I know it's my fault But I've kept "I'm sorry" locked in a vault

You called Sid late one night in March. He answered quickly, because he always did when you or Nate called, even though it was after midnight in Pittsburgh.

“Sid, I don’t know what to do anymore,” you had cried, with Cox curled up next to you on the couch in the dark. Nate was asleep upstairs, gone to bed early for the first time in a long time. Cox heard your tears and shoved his face into your hand, asking for attention, letting you use him as comfort. You petted him absently as you told Sid everything. And Sid listened, even as you told him stories of the season he already knew, told to him by Nate in similar late night phone conversations, even as it ticked past 1 in the morning in Denver. Sid waited until you finished talking before responding, spewing sympathy and advice that you only half listened to, still caught up in your thoughts.

In the best days of your relationship and in your worst, you didn’t know what you would do without Sid.

You thought back to the first summer you visited Nate in Cole Harbour. You hadn’t gone the first summer after you’d started dating, as you’d only been together a couple of months, although Nate had begged you pretty much the entire summer. The next summer, though, there was absolutely no getting out of visiting.

You had never been to Canada before, and you had grown up spending your summers on a lake, but you were convinced nothing would ever compare to Nova Scotia. Nate had laughed at you when you ran out onto his deck, a wide smile on your face. You spun around to look up at him.

“I love it here,” you said. Nate laughed again.

“You’ve barely even been here. You haven’t seen the good stuff yet.”

“I have a house, water, and you, what else is there to see?” Nate chuckled fondly at you.

You spent the day out on the water with Nate, Sid and the dogs. It was peaceful out there in the sun, the silence only occasionally broken by Sid’s ridiculous laugh or one of the dog’s barks. You were dozing in the sun when Nate came over to you.

“Come swimming with me for a bit.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m tanning, Nathan.” Sid laughed. Next thing you knew, you were being picked up and thrown over Nate’s shoulder. Sid laughed louder. Sometimes you really hated him and that fucking laugh. “Nate!” you shrieked. “Put me down!”

Nate simply said, “Okay,” before he was throwing you in the lake. You came up spluttering. Nate and Sid were both doubled over in laughter, and dogs were caught up in the excitement and barking.

“Help me out,” you whined, reaching a hand out of the water. Nate took pity on you and grabbed your hand.

You pulled him headfirst down into the water.

Sid came up to you on the dock on your last night in Cole Harbour. Nate was up at the house, getting you a blanket and more wine, and you were watching the stars.

“You’re really good for him, you know,” Sid said without preamble, settling next to you on the dock. You waited for him to continue. “I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he has been this week with you here.” You blushed. “And you should hear the way he talks about you on the phone, God, I didn’t know it was possible for anyone to get him out of his head and stop focusing on hockey, I don’t know how you do it.” He paused, gazing up at the clear sky.When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Nate takes everything so seriously. He’s gotten pretty fucked up over bad relationships in the past. I was a little worried when I saw how fast he was falling for you, when he’d call or text me like a middle-school girl with a crush. But I don’t have to worry, because you two are so good together, like you’ve known each other forever, and will be together forever.”

Nate chose that moment to reappear. “Talkin’ about me?” he asked, pushing Sid out of the way so he could sit next to you.

“Only good things,” Sid smiled.

Nate draped his arm across your shoulders and the blanket over your legs. You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” Nate whispered into your hair, brushing a kiss to the top of your head.

Nate came downstairs not long after you hung up with Sid. He found you crying on the couch, trying to muffle your sobs into the sleeves of one of his Avalanche hoodies. He made a soft, wounded sound, and you startled. You didn’t have a chance to apologize– for waking Nate, for breaking down– before he was climbing onto the couch next to you. He pulled you into his lap wordlessly, kissing away your tears, holding you as you shook.

He whispered sweet things to you as you calmed down, I’m sorrys and I love yous breaking the silence of the night. Cox whined, crawling his way into your lap as well. Nate’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, his breathing even, and you found yourself soothed by it. The two– well, three, if you counted the German Shepherd who was decidedly not a lap dog– fell asleep on the couch like that. When you woke up again, sunlight was streaming into the living room, and you were still safely wrapped up in Nate’s arms.

He looked younger, softer, in his sleep, the burden of being Nathan MacKinnon momentarily forgotten. You couldn’t help but stare, a soft smile on your face. Nate shifted under you a couple of minutes later, eyes blinking sleepily open. He grinned when he found you inches from his face, already watching him.

“Good morning,” he whispered, stretching up to kiss you gently. “D’you want breakfast?”

You buried your face in Nate’s neck. “In a minute,” you mumbled. “Comfy.” Nate laughed, loud, and you felt it in every inch of your body that was touching his.

As you sat sipping your coffee in the kitchen later, watching Nate cook you breakfast, like he had for so long, you could almost convince yourself that everything was fine, that the stress fractures of your relationship weren’t on the verge of breaking completely.

Some people say sorry to hear it's okay But I know it's not so you don't have to say That you understand 'cause I know you don't

In the living room where you had left your phone after last night’s phone call, you got a text. Then another. And another. Nate’s phone started ringing; his face went white, and he dropped the spatula he was using.

Confused, and starting to get worried, you set your coffee down and rushed to pick up your phone. The first thing you saw was a text from Mel, simply saying, “i’m so sorry.” Nate was still on the phone in the kitchen, speaking in an anxious hushed tone to whoever was on the other end. You ignored the handful of other texts you had received in favor of looking at your Instagram and Twitter notifications which were blowing up. You clicked on one with a shaky hand.

Your heart dropped. Your phone fell to the floor with a clatter.

In the kitchen, Nate’s voice rose, but you couldn’t hear any of the words he was saying over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

You sank to the floor and picked up your phone again. You had been tagged in a series of pictures, all of Nate. There was Nate with a girl in a bar, with a girl in his lap, his arm wrapped around her waist, his lips on hers. There was more than one post, too, all dated, starting all the way back in November. All nights when Nate and the Avs were on road trips. Different cities, too, but always the same girl.

Blonder than you. Prettier than you. Better than you, apparently.

There were dozens of pictures. Some were dark and kind of blurry, but all were unmistakably Nate.

You scrolled through all of the pictures again. Cox whined next to you. Nate still hadn’t left the kitchen, but you knew he had been tagged in all of the posts too. Texts and notifications were still rolling into your phone, from friends and family and strangers. You turned your phone off.

Then Nate was crouching in front of you, brushing your tears away. You hadn’t even realized you had been crying. You scrambled away from Nate’s touch like it burned you; his hand stayed outstretched in the air.

Just ten minutes ago, you had been beginning to think that things could get better again, that you could fix the damage in Nate, in your relationship. Now, everything you had known for the last two and a half years lay shattered at your feet, spread out for the whole world to see.

“You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” Nate murmured.

A hysterical laugh forced its way out of your throat. Your hands were still shaking, but your anxiousness had just been replaced with anger. “I wasn’t supposed to find out like this, or I wasn’t supposed to find out at all?”

Nate flinched a little, and you felt a brief flash of vindication. “I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean what, Nathan? Didn’t mean for me to find out, for the whole world to find out? Or you didn’t mean to say it like that? Like you were just waiting for the right time to tell me, but it never worked out?” Nate had stood up again, but he wasn’t looking at you. “God, I was sitting around like a fool all season, waiting for you to call me, but of course you never did, because you had found someone better than me. Did she get to go to games, too, when you were flying her all across the country?”

Nate was flushed with anger now too. “You don’t understand-”

You cut him off. “No, Nate, I don’t fucking understand. I thought, I don’t know, maybe the past two years actually meant something. So tell me, make me understand, because you lost me a long time ago.”

“Just shut up!” You took a step back from Nate, though he hadn’t moved. You weren’t sure Nate had ever raised his voice at you. “We were in Ottawa in the beginning of November, and we all went out to a bar because we finally got a fucking win. She started flirting, and she had no idea who we were, and it was so nice to meet someone and not have the expectation of being Nathan fucking MacKinnon. I never had to listen to her lie to me about how well I played or some shit about how the team would figure it out, that we could get better.”

“Did all the boys know?” you whispered. “Have you all just been laughing at me behind my back all season, while I’ve been blindly in love with a boy who’s been flying another girl to all of his road games?”

Nate paled and took a half-step in your direction. You backed up again, until your knees hit the couch. “No, they- they knew I was taking the season hard, I guess, so they gave me space. Gabe might’ve been getting suspicious, but I- they would never do that to you.”

“Excuse me for not believing that. I believed you would never cheat on me, either, but here we are.” You turned to leave the room.

“If you’d just-” Nate was angry again. You spun around, your heartbreak fanning the flames of your own anger.

“If I’d just what, Nate? Stopped caring about you and hockey? Stopped supporting you? Stopped caring about us?” Your voice broke, and you blinked back the tears burning behind your eyes. You had started out yelling again, but now your voice was quiet. “I’m sorry I tried, Nathan. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.”

You turned again, started making your way towards the stairs.

“Wait, Y/N, please.” Nate’s voice came out desperate, like he was choking back tears. You couldn’t possibly understand why; he had done this to himself. “I never actually slept with her.”

“Good for you, Nate.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I hope the PR team has fun trying to save you and your fuck-ups. The posterboy of the Colorado Avalanche showing his true colors at last.”

Nate finally let you turn and make your way upstairs. He didn’t follow as you made your way into the bedroom and packed a bag with enough clothes to last you until the next road trip. He was sitting on the couch, stiff and tense, but he jumped up when you came back down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” he asked, starting to reach out to grab your arm, but stopping himself at the last second, grasping at the air instead. “Please, Y/N.”

“I don’t know, Nate,” you sighed. “But I can’t stay here. I’ll be back to get the rest of my stuff while you’re on your next road trip. Say hi to your other girlfriend for me.”

Nate followed you outside. Cox barked once as you climbed into your car. “But-but you live here, with us! Please, let me fix this.”

You turned to Nate one last time. “You know, you could have fixed everything else that screwed us up this season. I really thought we could’ve been fine. But this, Nate? I don’t know anymore.”

Nate flinched as your car door slammed. You watched in your rearview mirror as you drove away. His hands were shoved in his pockets, unmoving, and then he was out of sight.

You drove aimlessly around Denver for a while. You let yourself get lost before you found somewhere quiet to pull over. Except, the breakdown, the tears, never came. Instead, you felt numb and hollow. You had really been foolish enough to believe that you could love Nate through everything, and that he would love you back. Hadn’t Sid said it seemed like you would be together forever?

When Nate showed up at the game the next night with a fresh black eye, no one commented on it. No one commented on EJ’s freshly bruised knuckles, either.

The season ended quietly. The Avs had managed to turn the season around, stop the bleeding, but they never quite could fix the damage. You had moved out of Nate’s house after the fight. You rarely saw each other anymore, but you didn’t tell him you kept going to games until the very end. You just couldn’t keep yourself away, no matter how much it hurt to watch him down on the ice.

Nate went home to Cole Harbour. You stayed in Denver.

Sometimes you thought back to the beginning of your relationship with Nate. You remembered what it was like when you first met, when Nate was still shy and quiet. It had been so stupidly fucking cliche, too: in a goddamn Starbucks.

You listened to the man next to you in line rattle off a list of coffee orders, ranging from basic to borderline ridiculous. The baristas were already beginning to look overwhelmed as the cups lined up. He had the grace to look sheepish, at least, and tucked what looked like a ten dollar bill into their tip jar. You didn’t pay him much more mind after that, stepping to the side and trying your hardest to stay out of the way of other patrons while you waited. Then your grandmother had called, asking for technology help, even though you were hundreds of miles away from home, and you had other family that literally lived five minutes away from her. You were distracted and missed that a barista had called your name. You were still caught up with your phone and didn’t realize until someone was tapping you on the shoulder and tentatively saying your name.

You looked up, surprised, and your entire field of vision was filled with one very blond, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered man. First, you made the connection to him being the one with the list of coffee orders in line next to you, and then, that the man standing in front of you, struggling to balance several coffee carriers, was Nathan MacKinnon.

“I grabbed your coffee by mistake,” he said. “It got mixed in with all our orders, and I only just noticed it had a different name on it. I’m really sorry.”

You smiled, taking your coffee. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even hear them call my name.” Nate still looked apologetic. “Did you lose a bet or something?” you asked then, looking at the stack of coffee cups Nate still held.

He grinned at you. “Something like that.”

You had left the Starbucks that day with Nate’s phone number. At the time, you had no real intent to use it; you didn’t kid yourself. Nathan MacKinnon was a former first-overall draft pick, hero of the Colorado Avalanche, and you were just some girl whose coffee he accidentally stole.

Nate texted you first. He did that a lot in the beginning. He was always a little awkward– a life spent focused on hockey meant that he wasn’t the best at small talk– but he was sweet and could make you laugh.

When he first asked you out, you said no. You had watched his face fall, watched him bite his lip and take a step back from you. You felt a surprising rush of sadness settle in your chest as Nate’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You had said no because you didn’t want to be just another girl, another fling that meant nothing. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if that’s all you would be to Nate, and you were a little scared by how willing you were to see how far it could go.

“Ask me again in a couple weeks,” you said softly. Nate startled, still looking a little bit like he wanted to run. You looked up at him fondly.

Life went on in Denver that summer without Nate. You went to work. You went home to your empty apartment. Really, it wasn’t all that different from life with Nate in Denver, at least not in the last couple of months. You texted with Sid and Sarah every once in a while, but you got complete radio silence from Nate. Tyson Barrie texted you a video of Cox and Ralph playing one day in mid-July, and you could hear Nate laughing somewhere in the background. You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to admit to how many times you watched the video, just to hear Nate’s laugh again, either.

“You are not getting my dog a fucking-what it’s called? A puppuccino?” Nate gripped his iced black cold brew tightly in his hand and glared at you. Cox sat patiently at your feet, eyeing the cup of whipped cream in your hand and licking his lips eagerly.

“It’s just whipped cream, babe! And, look, he likes them!”

Nate raised an eyebrow at you. You had forgotten that the trips you took to Starbucks with Cox while the boys were on road trips were secret. “Y/N.” Nate crouched down and squished Cox’s face. Cox looked unimpressed. “This is a highly trained guard dog. He does not need any fucking whipped cream.” Cox’s tongue darted out and licked Nate’s nose. It was Nate’s turn to look unimpressed.

You bent down to give Cox his puppuccino. He lapped it up excitedly, getting whipped cream all over his nose and whiskers. Nate rolled his eyes at the both of you.

“You’re not allowed to spoil our children.” You paused, still watching Cox try and get the last of the whipped cream out of the cup. Nate had never mentioned kids before, but you sometimes watched the smile he had when he played with Linnea or Sophie, even though he was still a little terrified of holding a baby. You looked at him, but he was still watching Cox calmly.

“Are you saying that Cox isn’t already your son?” you asked, only deflecting a little, and trying very hard to not picture Nate with a tiny baby of your own.

Nate scoffed. You both looked down at Cox, who had rolled onto his back, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “Besides,” he said, tugging you closer by your hips, “I think Cox will be great with kids, and there’s only one way to find out.”

You just rolled your eyes.

You always had to grit your teeth and smile when someone heard that you weren’t originally from Denver and asked, pretty much without fail, if you had moved for Nate. The answer was always that you had moved for work and had met Nate by chance. If Nate was a part of the conversation, he would chip in that he’d had to work to even get you to consider dating him. He’d always kiss you after that, on the forehead, on the cheek, and he’d look at you like he was the lucky one. And you could look into his eyes and forget for a moment that you’d been upset.

You always wondered why everyone assumed you had dropped your life, your family and friends and your hometown just to follow Nate and his hockey career. Now, you were wondering if you were ready to drop your life, your friends, and everything you loved about Denver just to get away from Nate and his hockey career.

You didn’t hear from Nate when he returned to Denver for training camp. It hurt in a way you couldn’t articulate, a bone-deep ache, a hollowness that you had never felt before, the fear that you had both let your relationship go past the point of no return while neither of you were paying attention. You thought wildly as you laid in bed alone, if you would ever see Nate again, be able to look him in the eyes and tell him you loved him one more time.

Because you did. You still loved Nate, maybe always would, and you missed him, spent the whole summer missing him, had missed him long before he went back to Cole Harbour by himself. You were terrified that you lost the best relationship you’d ever had. You were too scared to reach out to him yourself, half-sure that he’d never even respond, and that would be all you needed to know that you had reached the end.

You watched the boys’ Instagram stories as they went golfing everyday after practice. You watched Nate smile and laugh with Gabe and Burky, though you noticed that the smiles never quite seemed to reach his eyes. You looked at the Avs’ social medias every day for the pictures they inevitably posted of Nate. He never seemed to be smiling. You would drive down near the Pepsi Center, only to see his face plastered everywhere. Seeing Nathan MacKinnon around Denver seemed unavoidable; he was on posters and on shirts and jerseys. Seeing Nate, though? Your Nate, with the lisp and the love for dogs, who yelled at his teammates on Fortnite and loved his family more than anything? You weren’t sure you’d ever see him again.

So whether you kiss me or you close the door Just know that I'm better than I was before

You were surprised when someone knocked on your apartment door one night after dinner, only a couple of days before the regular season began. You were even more surprised when you pulled open the door to see Nate. He startled a little when you opened the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb, allowing yourself to just look at him.

His summer tan had already started to fade. He was wearing jeans, but an old Avs T-shirt, and he was picking at the fraying hem. He was no longer as lean as he was the last time you’d seen him towards the end of the season, but he looked exhausted the same way he did in the final stretch.

It hurt to look at him for long, so you cleared your throat, tore your gaze away from the dark circles under his eyes. Nate shook himself a little, looked away from the 29 on your right shoulder. You had forgotten that you had put on an old, stolen hoodie after work. For a while, it had still smelled like him, but now it didn’t smell like anything.

“I thought you gave everything of mine back,” was the first thing he said.

You shrugged, tugging the sleeves of Nate’s hoodie over your hands. “Couldn’t bring myself to give it up.” You looked back at Nate. He looked pained. “What’re you doing here, Nate?” The exhaustion of the last couple months, the heartbreak, the worry, showed in your voice.

“I just-I wanted to see you. Wanted to try and explain, if you wanted to listen. I know I’ll never get the words right, and you could slam the door in my face right now, and I wouldn’t blame you. And if you do, I’ll leave you alone. But if you don’t, I will spend the rest of my life apologizing, trying to show you how much I love you.”

You covered your mouth to cover the sob that rose out of your chest. Nate’s eyes snapped up to yours, those bright blue eyes that you still loved so much, and he looked panicked. “Nate, I-”

“Look, if I were you, I’d hate me. Hell, EJ socked me, and I thought Sid was gonna leave me out on the lake to die when I first flew home. If you spend the rest of your life hating me, it’s all on me. You probably wouldn’t be the only one. But, fuck, Cox misses you. I miss you.” Nate stepped closer, reached out to brush his thumb across your cheekbone.

You let yourself revel in that touch for a moment before you took a step back, clutching your door for support. “I spent all summer wondering if we were over, Nate. Wondering what I could’ve done differently.” Nate bit his lip. He was still standing in the hallway outside your apartment. You hadn’t invited him in, and you weren’t sure you were going to at all. “I don’t know if I can do this again. If I can fall in love with you, be in love with you, and watch you go off on road trips and wonder if I can ever trust you again. I don’t know if I can do this,” you repeated.

Nate closed his eyes, seemed to be steeling himself for something. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I know it’s not enough, will never be enough, and I’m sorry for that, too.”

You hesitated. Nate blinked once, twice, fidgeted with the hem of his T-shirt again. It would be so easy, you thought, to let him back into your life.

You closed the door.

The last thing you saw was Nate’s face, hurt but resigned. You leaned back against your door, slid down to the floor, and let the tears that had been burning under the surface for months out.

Part Two!

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