#+ him and his Responsibilities which is about the most unromantic way of looking at it as you can get (also strong ace vibes)

[celestemona]

WHERE YOU’RE HIS BELOVED S/O

but you don’t respect the law

pairing: neuvillette x fem former gang leader! reader

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

when you first started dating Neuvillette, the looks you both got on the street were pure admiration and a touch of envy. after all, it was no wonder why when the two of you exuded an unshakable elegance and the stares you exchanged with each other drew long sighs from even the most unromantic person.

wherever you went together people would whisper in delight, gossiping about your last date and pointing out on how you filled in what the other lacked. from your charming, mysterious personality to Neuvillette's seriousness and honesty, you and him were considered the most famous, beautiful and powerful couple in Fontaine — the definition of perfect for each other.

but many still wondered how the Chief Justice got his heart stole after spending the last few years rejecting any potential partners, because even the most senior citizens of the capital remember only seeing the iudex accompanied only by the eccentric hydro archon, to whom he served more as a responsible guardian than a right hand.

the truth was that for nearly a decade you had been in Neuvillette's crosshairs. or rather, in the crosshairs of the law.

what the hydro nation’s population didn’t imagine was that behind your sweet smiles and kind words was hiding an ambitious, astute woman and former head of one of the most famous illegal organizations in Fontaine with connections throughout Teyvat. and for years you managed to manage and expand your business without the goddess herself being suspicious of all the illegal activities that went on under her nose.

at that time, you didn't know which of the fontanian authorities to watch out for and so you loosened the reins. unfortunately or not, that was your downfall so you couldn't hide from the Chief Justice for very long — in fact, you actually did.

the only relationship that Neuvillette had for all the decades (centuries) he was alive was with his responsibility, therefore, it wasn’t difficult for you to use the art of persuasion and seduction to get rid of the main objectives of the man who was to take you to court and condemn you for your crimes.

for months you've been successful in your escapes, using your wiles, wits and contacts to hide any evidence that could land you in trial.

however, it wasn't until you ended up stumbling into your own trap that you found yourself willingly surrendering to the dragon-man.

it was only when you partially abandoned the illegal business that you then started dating, though. Neuvillette might love you irrevocably but he wouldn't date someone who was involved in fraud or smuggling — besides, you too were tired of your old life and so left your leader's chair to your most faithful and trusted friend.

although you now had a good business as a florist in the hydro capital, you still pulled strings to smuggle some rare flowers from Sumeru or seeds only found in the heart of Natlan to your shop. Neuvillette would usually stare at you in disapproval, but then forget to give you a lecture for the way you managed to distract him with kisses and sweet talk.

“last time this month, my love. i promise."

“ma chérie, you said that last week.”

“i know i know! but do you know Colette? that kind lady who always offers us the freshest macarons from her thursday batches? she loved the popularity of Kalpalatas in her bakery and made me an order of sixty of them, can you believe that? Kalpalatas are not easy to find, mon amour. no no.”

Neuvillette could only sigh in weariness, the silver engagement ring on his right ring finger glinting as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“make sure the goods arrive before dawn on tuesday.”

smiling mischievously you declared “i love you.”

even if this new life was quite different from your original character, no one could dispute how it fit you so well. even your former subordinates had only positive comments to make about how the domestic routine suited you. and you really wouldn't change a thing about it because you were never as happy as you were with the man who lay down beside you every night, and dawned with his arms tightly around you.

if anything, you wouldn't change anything in your life because that way you would never meet Neuvillette.

even if there was still so much difference between the two of you, there couldn't be a better relationship of companionship and understanding than that.

that must be the reason why that instead of running away again, you preferred to be caught.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x fem reader

[theriverspath]

Can I Watch?

Rated Explicit on ao3.

Snake picks Zirra up from work for a Valentine's Day date. Once they're the only two left in the building, Zirra changes clothes. Snake likes what they see.

---

Fuck. What the fuck am I doing?

Snake grabbed the two boxes of chocolates from the passenger seat and exited the Bentley. After closing the door and stepping onto the pavement, they took a moment to adjust their clothing. They slid their hand down the front of their black sweater dress. They didn’t want any wrinkles marring the length of fine wool that clung to them from the mock turtleneck to the tops of their low-heeled ankle boots. They scooted the delicate silver chain encircling their waist, adjusting the angle of the tiny patent leather bag that sat at their hip. They patted their hair, checking for unintentional stray strands in the half-up-half-down bun style. A quick press of the lips confirmed an even coverage of red lipstick. A miniscule shift of the hips ensured that the undies were holding everything in place.

Finally, unable to find any other excuse to delay, Snake squared their shoulders and walked to the building's entrance. A gust of wind played at the hem of their dress and, despite the black hose, chilled their legs. They barely had time to wonder why they hadn't brought a jacket before they were pushing open the door and stepping into a lobby.

Their initial impression was of bright light and white walls. A large abstract painting of what could possibly be the London skyline hung above a clean glass desk.

"Hello, welcome to Haven’s … Oh! You must be Anthony." A cheerful face looked up at them from behind the desk. Close-cropped dark hair emphasized the rich brown of the receptionist’s eyes. A white cable knit sweater added the first bit of coziness to the otherwise sterile environment. They rose, and a pleated cream skirt fell to below the receptionist’s knees. A cute pair of cream and white saddle shoes softly tapped on the marble floor as they made their way out from behind the desk.

"Uh, yeah. Muriel?"

“Yes, exactly! I’m Zirra’s sibling. It’s so nice to meet you!” Snake shook the hand offered to them, slightly taken aback by the warm greeting. Zirra had said that his younger sibling worked the front desk, and if Snake were being honest with themself, they’d been a bit nervous about meeting them. Family wasn’t something Snake normally did. But, Muriel’s bright smile and seemingly genuine delight was disarming. Snake felt their shoulders relax as Muriel released their hand.

“Come on through. Zirra said to walk you back to his office when you arrived. I think he’s finishing up some paperwork.” Muriel continued chatting as they led Snake through a door behind the desk and down a wide corridor. They walked past more paintings that carried the misty impressions of landmarks from around the world, each starkly lit with its own discreet wall lamp. “You know, I told him that he shouldn’t make you pick him up at work. It’s the most unromantic start to a Valentine’s date.” The eye roll they aimed at Snake held no malice, just good-natured exasperation at Zirra. Snake found themself smiling in response.

They stopped in front of a door with a simple gold plaque that read, “APPRAISER.” Muriel knocked with one hand and turned the handle with the other. Snake felt the return of their nerves, along with a tingle of excitement. Stop it , Snake mentally chastised the butterflies fluttering around the general area of their solar plexus. This is just a date. There’s no reason to be this…

The door opened onto another world. Dark wood display cases lined walls painted a warm, golden yellow. The shelves overflowed with trinkets, nicknacks, and books, many of which looked to be quite old. A pool of warm light lent a glow to a coffee-colored sofa. There was the sound of a chair being pushed back, and Snake’s eyes snapped towards it.

Zirra stood behind a cluttered wooden desk. His white button-up shirt was a little rumpled, and the sleeves were rolled up. Snake swallowed at the sight of firm forearms. Zirra’s blonde curls showed where he’d ran a hand through one side. The light from a slender computer monitor glinted off a pair of small gold-rimmed spectacles. Zirra’s face held a mix of surprise and awe as he reached up to remove the glasses. Despite Snake’s order to calm down, the butterflies burst into joyful flight at the expression. There was a moment where no one spoke, then a mischievous voice at Snake’s shoulder perked up.

“Anthony’s here.” Zirra cleared his throat and blinked, and glanced at his sibling like he’d just noticed them. He gave a wry smile at their obvious statement.

“Yes, I can see that. Thanks for showing them to my office.” He left his desk and took the few steps to reach Snake and Muriel. Snake felt their body react to the way Zirra’s eyes dropped down, then back up to their face.

“No problem.” Muriel looked from Zirra, to Snake, then back again. “I’m, uh, going to head out now.” They gestured with their thumb toward the door. With a start, Snake realized that Muriel had stayed late just to let them in after the auction house had closed for the night. They held out the smaller of the two boxes they’d brought in from the car.

“It was great to meet you, Muriel. I hope I didn’t keep you too late from your own plans.” Muriel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and they accepted the chocolates.

“It’s alright. Eric can wait a few minutes.” They leaned forward to kiss their brother on the cheek farewell. “Everyone else has already left. I’ll lock up behind me, but Sandy should be here soon.” They stepped back and headed for the door. “Thank you for the chocolates, Anthony!” Sounded back down the hallway. A moment later, Snake heard the door to the lobby open and close.

“You look fantastic.” That hint of awe was now in Zirra’s voice. Relief let Snake take the breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding. It was always a risk showing up to a vanilla date in a look that tipped the scales towards feminine. Before they’d realized they’d done it, Snake stepped forward into Zirra’s personal space. They heard the box of chocolates find the desk, but they’re attention was on the warmth of Zirra’s chest under their hand. This close, they could see his blue eyes dilate at the touch. They brought their face to Zirra’s, the tips of their noses brushing.

“So do you.” Snake wasn’t sure who closed the gap for the kiss, but they didn’t care. Zirra’s mouth was warm and wanting...

Continue reading on ao3.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #aziracrow #good omens human au #modern au #spicy fanfic #aziraphale/crowley #good omens ao3

[thatslikely]

lined-paper confessions - s.s.

lined-paper confessions - stiles stilinski x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of fighting (scott and jackson predictably), strict teachers

word count: 1.5k

a/n: head full of stiles rn... requests for our favorite sarcastic boy are open right now so send some in!

Why is every teacher at Beacon Hills High the absolute worst?

Mr. Harris had just rapidly climbed your (highly opinionated) mental ranks to number one: your new least favorite educator. Giving you after-school detention, for doing nothing but watching with horror plastered on your face as Scott McCall, Stiles’ best friend, threw punches left and right at a topless, water-drenched Jackson, who reciprocated every strike as if he were nothing but a reflection. Seriously?

Previously, you had simply been sauntering down the locker-lined hall, Stiles on your right, passionately ranting about some unnamed problem that had him on edge for the past few weeks. You two turned down the empty, cinder-block-walled athletics corridor as he continued to agitatedly let off steam; the setting was decidedly unromantic given the unshakeable scent of overly pungent deodorant and mildew that was all too familiar. 

You clung to every word emitted from his mouth with an almost comical frown like it was a mug of steamy hot chocolate on a bone-chilling winter day. To your disgruntlement, however, his ramblings were stopped mid-sentence when Scott and his wealthy rival Jackson tumbled out from the dingy boys’ locker room, hands clenched in fists and eyes flaming with fury.

Stiles bent down in a rush, poorly attempting to conclude the boisterous brawl with furrowed, concerned brows, but he looked not dissimilar to a toothpick compared to the two burly teammates. 

“Detention for all of you!” Mr. Harris spat venomously as he dashed to the scene, his voice ringing above the grunts and slams that came from the fighting co-captains of the lacrosse team. “Detention now, Stilinski, McCall, Whittemore, Argent, and Y/L/N! Come on!”

You were dragged by the ear to the vacant library, a place which you often resided in whenever you studied with Stiles (often about mythical creatures, to your confusion). Posters that looked commonplace in an elementary school lined the walls, vibrantly encouraging students to pick up a book, or pen works for a writing contest of some sort.

Golden strips of fleeting sunlight peeked through the slatted blinds, and three gum wad-dotted tables were beckoning for the group of you to sit for the next two hours, or until Mr. Harris would finally decide that your soul had rotted away enough to release you.

You were sternly directed to the uncomfortably stiff chair opposite Allison’s, whose eyes shot daggers wherever they glanced. You flashed her an almost unregistrable smile, as if to say ‘hello.’ Slinging the loose straps of your backpack over your seat, your gaze flickering through the pin-drop silent room immediately locked on Stiles’ figure.

Boy, was he perfect.

The unbuttoned flannel over his shoulders speckled with mud from some vaguely mentioned adventure, his soft, tousled hair, that always had a lock out of place, his freckled face, that always bore some goofy expression, all of it. You couldn’t get enough; nothing would satiate your innermost desire for your lips to meld with his’, for your hands to intertwine through the hallways before class, after class, whenever, wherever. 

One eyebrow-cocked, knowing look from Scott in your direction sent Stiles’ umber eyes to meet yours’, an almost confused look swimming through them. He opened his mouth curiously, surely to ask a question, most likely something along the lines of, ‘is there a stain on my shirt?’, but before he could, Mr. Harris seethed, “Take your seats, now.”

Stiles whipped around, not wanting to anger Mr. Harris any further, and he took his seat. The room was quickly conquered with suffocating silence, which the snotty chemistry teacher was bent on ensuring.

You unsheathed a doodled notebook from your backpack, eventually indenting its pages with inky black strokes of various weights and thicknesses. Your habit of penning loose sketches, vague outlines, began one day in math when the clock seemed to tick aggravatingly slow, and every word from the teacher became drawled further and further until they dissolved into the hum of the air conditioning and the chewing of gum: the rhythm of the classroom.

The unconscious lines eventually formed to a familiar portrait: Stiles. Some would be tempted to call him your muse, your kindling of an elegant flame of creativity. You’d always nod your head in complicity more than agreement, for the smart, albeit rebellious boy meant eons more than that to you.  

You had just hit your stride, your wrist’s movements thoughtless and easy, when someone- rather something, hit the back of your head lightly with a small crunch. It was a small, scrunched piece of loose-leaf paper, ripped at the edge. 

You turned your head to the direction that the projectile was tossed at, but both Scott and Stiles appeared to be very, very engrossed in a hushed conversation, neither of their postures attempting to suggest anything suspicious.

You smoothed out the paper of the angular fruitwood table in front of you, attempting to read the almost unintelligible handwriting.

Hey :)

(this is from stiles, by the way)

Your mood lightened a smidge, a grin bubbling onto your face. You tore a piece of paper out of your notebook along the perforation.

Before you threw it in an arch in Stiles’ direction, you penned a response to his note.

Hey ;) how’s detention treating you?

(This is from y/n, by the way)

Crunch.

not great, as expected. I think I saw harris pick his nose. do you have any bleach to douse my eyes in by any chance?

You chuckled a little, a small smirk glimmering on your face for the first time this excruciatingly long afternoon.

Sorry, I’m all out. used it all after I saw Jackson shirtless. how do you survive in the locker room every day?

A smile lifted on Stiles’ face, one so inflated with abundant excitement (and hormones), he might have burst at the seams.

“Man, you’re down bad,” Scott simpered, nudging his best friend’s forearm.

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed with an eye roll.

just keep your head down and you should be fine. one time, Greenberg looked at him a little too long and he nearly turned to stone, like jackson’s abs were medusa or something.

“Passing notes, are we?” Mr. Harris queried with a malicious scowl, his knuckles white from asphyxiating a helpless ballpoint pen. He slinked over to the tables you and Stiles rested uncomfortably in, raising his brow in heavy suspicion. 

Stiles’ deep, dark chocolate-colored eyes widened in worry. “No, sir.”

“I’m keeping my eye on you, Stilinski. You too, Y/L/N.” 

As soon as Harris was out of sight, perched back at the desk and typing furiously, another wad of paper tapped your occiput. 

hey, y/n, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you for a while.

The note, while its contents wouldn’t usually spark too much concern, was subtly unlike the few ones you had previously received. The lines of each letter were neater, more methodical. The small blots of ink resting at the conclusion of every stroke were larger, deeper, as if the nib of his pen had rested in the liquidly black pool for a second too long.

Your face scrunched with confusion, and upon noticing your shift in emotion, Allison nimbly tapped your wrist and mouthed, ‘Is everything okay?’

You nodded with wrinkled brows while shakily scratching a reply.

what is it?

Your knee bounced up and down reflexively, clicking from your rapidly retracting pen echoed through the idle shelves and arrays of desktops. It felt like years, centuries even, before a reply finally tumbled at your feet.

do you like me?

(circle one)

yes? or yes? 

Your jaw nearly fell to the carpeted floor in shock as if gravity had been multiplied; your speedily thrumming heart was doing flip after flip in the cavity of your chest. Without a second thought, you quickly circled both of the ‘yes’es as if there were no friction under the ink-dispersing tip of your pen. Before cupping the piece of paper, you scribbled out an additional little note.

wanna go out this saturday?

Stiles’ anxious gaze bore into your hunched-over figure as you giddily wrote your reply. What if you rejected him (even though the page lacked a ‘no’ option, meaning that you would have to add one, which was even worse)? Was it possible for him to ask to go to the bathroom and just never return? Are there any secret werewolf abilities that Scott could use to make him disintegrate on the spot? 

But his overthinking was soon alleviated when he received your response, this time neatly folded into a paper heart instead of a crunchy ball. Each crease was crisp and thoughtful; he didn’t have to unfold your expert origami to know which option you circled (or lack thereof).

He grinned goofily like an idiot as his chocolate eyes glazed your response a million times over, taking in every letter, every stroke, the dot in your ‘i’ or the question mark ending your simple but heart-rate-escalating proposal.

Crunch.

stiles stilinski/teen wolf taglist:

it’s a date then. i’ll pick you up at 6? passenger seat’s already reserved for you ;)

@loulouloueh @when-you-wish-upon-a-starrynight @ronbrokemyheart @dylobilysmomg

if your name is crossed out, that means I couldn't take you! check your visibility settings so I can @ you next time!

fill out this form to be added!

#stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x you #teen wolf fic #stiles stilinski drabble #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles fanfiction #stiles fic #stiles imagine #stiles oneshot #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski reader insert #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #tw

[blu-joons]

DATING NCT A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Lee Donghyuck

A ⇴ AFFECTION 

It’s well known that Donghyuck is a huge fan of skinship, but especially when it comes to you. You’ll often have to end up begging him to let you go or tapping out because he’s holding you tight, but he loves to hold you close.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING 

The elder members of the unit had spotted his eyes glancing across at you throughout the night, and after biting their tongues for so long, they finally managed to push Donghyuck into going over and saying hello to you. He was terrified, but as soon as you said hello back, he felt entirely at ease.

C ⇴ CONFESSION 

Just like saying hello, the members pushed him into confessing too. Johnny especially had caught onto a rumour that another guy had shown interest in you from your workplace, causing them to push Donghyuck into letting you know how he felt before he lost you. It was a very last minute, and unromantic confession, but luckily, Donghyuck managed to get to you before the other guy which was all that mattered to him.

D ⇴ DATES 

The two of you loved to mess around with each other, you always loved trying new places for your dates. It was one of the biggest advantages of being in Seoul, that there was always something around for you to try. The more exhilarating, the better, as far as Donghyuck was concerned, he enjoyed showing off to you and having a laugh. Your dates were never too serious and planned out, you were far too young to worry about all the adult things that you should do on a date just yet.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE 

Donghyuck had never even given love much thought before he met you, it always felt like such an adult thing for him when deep down he still felt like a massive child. Perhaps that was why he got on so well with you, because you still would always make him feel like a massive child, whilst also introducing him to a few more adult things in life, specifically giving him his first, and hopefully last, shot at love. He also learnt from his elders a lot when it came to love and took on board as much of their advice as possible.

F ⇴ FIGHTING 

The two of you didn’t tend to argue a lot, but you always remembered one fight you did have. Donghyuck paid no attention to you one date night and played on his phone throughout the entirety of your meal together, talking to anyone but you. You couldn’t help but blow, your reaction was much more than it needed to be, but Donghyuck had never annoyed you before, and quite frankly, you were just in the mood to shout. Once you were done, he’d sit you down and apologise and promise never to make you so angry again as it was definitely a sight that he didn’t like to see.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY 

His family were very protective of him which often worried you, but luckily for you, seeing how happy he was with you quickly allowed you to become a huge part of their family. All the fears and worries of high expectations you had were very quickly forgotten about once you got to know them.

H ⇴ HOME 

Being one of the younger members, Donghyuck was very reluctant to leave the dorm. He loved having his hyungs around him for now, and often would remind you that the two of you had the rest of your lives to live together when the band began to calm down and members started to move on with other projects and jobs.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU” 

You were actually the first to say those three important words when a prank you tried to pull on Donghyuck had gone very wrong. When he ended up with his favourite shirt being ruined, you knew that you had a lot of making up to do, starting by admitting your true feelings for him to make sure that he wouldn’t stay angry at you anymore.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY 

Being jealous around his members was something that Donghyuck hated to do, but he was the first to admit that there were definitely times he’d feel jealous towards them if one of the many managed to make you laugh or do something for you that he couldn’t do. Whilst he was happy being one of the babies of the team, he liked to stamp his authority within the group as your boyfriend, so when the others would mock him or tease him, there were definitely times when he wouldn’t see the funny side and get very jealous.

K ⇴ KIDS 

Even the thought of kids terrified Donghyuck at such a stage in his life, if he wasn’t honest, he still wasn’t sure how he saw tomorrow going, let alone five, ten years down the road. If you mentioned children, you’d often struggle to get a lot out of Donghyuck, he much preferred to think of the now and living whilst he was still young rather than all the responsibilities that he’d have to take on as an adult.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER 

You were the duo that often gave the other members nightmares, together you were both hilarious, but the biggest fear for the other members. You both loved to prank them and wind them up to no end, you were forever going around the dorm with challenges that you knew would wind them all up. Even if nobody else would be laughing at your antics, the two of you would often be doubled up on the floor with stitches at how successful your practical jokes had been. As soon as any members saw the two of you together, they knew they were about to become the victims of your jokes together and try to getaway.

M ⇴ MISSING 

He was very much protected by the boys whenever he went on tour, they knew just how much he missed you and how lonely he often got. It felt as if the other half of him was gone when you weren’t around beside him, even though all the others were relieved that one half of the mischievous duo that you were together had disappeared. Even they had to admit they missed you causing trouble when you were with them, especially as they saw how badly Donghyuck struggled without you there too. They would rally around him as best as they could, but they knew very well that you left far too big a hole in his life for any of them to fill.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES 

You’d usually end up just shortening his name as a nickname for him, neither of you were ones for super fluffy nicknames, you much preferred to use your handshake that you had together, which everyone else hated.

O ⇴ OBSESSION 

Donghyuck was obsessed with your body as a whole, he just loved to cuddle any part of it. He could never pick one part of it above the rest, that was a decision he just couldn’t make.

P ⇴ PDA 

He loved to continue to prank you and mess around in public with you too. He’d often try and push the boundaries to see what you were comfortable with, which would usually end up with a photo of the two of you in the headlines the following day and in hot water with the company too.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS 

Nothing made him happier then when he had your support in pranking a member, so he’d ask you quite a lot which one you wanted to help him get or what you thought the perfect prank was to get back at whoever he had decided to target that time around.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS 

A lot of his time is spent on his phone, and so because he spends so much time on it, Donghyuck makes sure that every background that he has is a photo of you. Being able to look at you every time he changes app or switches his phone on always ends up putting a smile on his face. Seeing you look back at him goes a long way in making him feel like you’re there with him, even though most of the time you aren’t.

S ⇴ SEX 

There would never be a second during intimacy between the two of you when Donghyuck wouldn’t be a complete romantic and dramatically affectionate towards you. He loved making you feel special and taking care of you as best as he could, if there was any distance between the two of you, he’d close it in a heartbeat and hold you a little bit tighter to make up for letting you go even just if it was for a moment.

T ⇴ TEXTS 

Sometimes there doesn’t even feel like there’s a second in the day when Donghyuck isn’t texting you. He can’t help but open up your chat every time he picks up your phone to see if you’ve replied or if he needs to text again.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE 

He loved having a partner in crime in you more than anything else in the world. Knowing that even though he was about to cause mischief, the fact that you’d be there to cheer him on was always the little nudge he needed to cause chaos.

V ⇴ VACATION 

Exploring whilst he was still so young was something that Donghyuck had always been big on, but especially so now that he had someone who would be right beside him on all his adventures. Even though those times would be limited, you’d always make the most of it together and see as much as the world as you could.

W ⇴ WHINING 

If he didn’t have your attention then Donghyuck would definitely let you know that he wanted it, refusing to stop until you gave it to him.

X ⇴ XXXXX 

Again, he’s a huge fan of skinship, and with that, definitely comes a lot of kisses. He can never help but kiss you as often as possible, there was always something about seeing with a blush on your cheeks and being able to send you weak at the knees that makes him the happiest man in the world. Knowing he’s the one that makes you feel so loved and adored with his kisses is an absolute honour in Donghyuck’s opinion.

Y ⇴ YOU 

You were his team mate, you always did everything as one.

Z ⇴ ZZZ 

He’d hold you tightly every single night, only usually letting you go when you’d complain that you were struggling to breathe because he was holding you so tightly against him as you tried to get to sleep.

---

Masterlist

#nct #nct imagine #nct reaction #haechan #haechan imagine #nct scenario #nct 127 #nct 127 imagine #nct u #nct u imagine #nct haechan #donghyuck #donghyuck imagine #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck imagine #nct drabble #nct one shot #nct fluff #nct headcanon #haechan scenario #haechan one shot #haechan reaction #haechan drabble #kpop #kpop imagine

[quotergirl19]

Random Thoughts on Anthony & Siena.

Anthony is the first born son in a long line of first born sons in one of the most highly regarded families in high society. The Bridgerton name carries major weight and he became the head of it unexpectedly at 18 when he barely had a grasp of what it was to be a man let alone how to protect and be responsible for his entire family as a father figure to his 7 siblings aging from teenagers to newborns and managing the family fortune and legacy.

Siena was an opera singer. Opera singers were not respected in high society. They were known for being scandalous and promiscuous so she knew without a doubt that she could never hope for marriage. She was his mistress and enjoyed his money and the safety and comfort it allowed her. She was just looking for someone with money to take care of her and keep her in high fashion (and those are her own words).

I don’t dispute that she and Anthony had strong attraction towards each other but I don’t think it was love. At least not in a real and lasting way. It was more lust and escape from reality which is a risky game because that’s clearly how feelings get hurt.

Anthony has major responsibilities in life, and it may have been hard on both of them to have to move on from the dreamy notion that love means passionate quickies and pillow talk but theirs was never going to be a lasting love story and they both knew it. Had it continued it would have grown into a very unromantic scenario where they had bastard children he loved but could not recognize and he would have to marry another woman who would be acknowledged and respected while Siena was looked down on by society and she would have no power or control over her treatment or the treatment of her children. He would father legitimate heirs who would inherit everything because at his core Anthony is a Bridgerton and the family name and legacy are everything to him.

So while I don’t hate Siena. I never got invested in her and Anthony’s relationship because I saw it for what it was, a fleeting fantasy. And by the end, she was the one who had to remind him of that.

If you disagree please remove the rose colored lenses and rewatch their interactions. The first time we see them, he’s not murmuring sweet nothings into her ear while making gentle love to her. He’s checking his pocket watch pounding her against a tree in public, in front of his employee. He’s rushing to get off and be done with her to race to his family because as he says himself, family must come before all else.

Then he goes back to have a little afternoon delight at her place of work, where she even says people can hear them but again he has no regard for that because she exists for his pleasure. Why should he care what people might say about her or how her reputation might be affected by thier behavior? She’s no lady. It cannot affect him and he doesn’t even think about her feelings or how their behavior can affect her. And yet, we know Anthony is a highly regarded “gentleman.”

His brother Colin won’t even kiss his fiancé before marrying her because she is a lady and he is a gentleman. And when Anthony implies that Colin proposed to Marina because he didn’t go to brothels, Colin is outraged that Anthony insults his intended. And that was in the privacy of the Bridgerton house. But when Simon asks Anthony in public if he is going to get married or just fuck his mistress forever, Anthony doesn’t flinch. He just cheers to the fact that he has brother who could sire the next Brigerton heir. It’s flippant and when his mother calls him out on it, he harshly dumps Siena the next day. Because Siena is not a lady so she and her feelings don’t matter.

Watch her face when he mentions how he has to protect his sister because she is a lady, and when Siena says how lucky Daphne is to have protection he basically implies (again, without considering Siena’s feelings) that protecting a lady matters, protecting other women doesn’t. Read between the lines people, Anthony’s relationship with Siena highlights his most immature, self-distructive, impulsive side. In short, she brings out the worst in him. It’s just masked by charm and hedonism.

Thiers was not a relationship based on mutual respect and friendship that grew into deep meaningful devotion and love. He was a rich, handsome, powerful man who enjoyed sex with a feisty and willing woman. And she was a singer who wanted a certain lifestyle and knew she could use her charms and sex to get it.

The fact that they had intense chemistry made it harder to let go of the fantasy that what they had was love. And we should also make note that while Siena is rejecting Anthony, she refers to herself as, “the woman you may love in darknsss but never in the light of day.” She says he MAY love her. Because he has never claimed to actually love her. And when she says that he shakes his head as if to make clear that he has never called what they have “love.”

I can see why people liked them together but I thinks it’s more a testament to the talent of the actors portraying them and the depth they brought to the roles.

I’m very much looking forward to Anthony and Kate’s relationship. Their story is my favorite of the Bridgerton book series and I cannot wait to see Anthony actually realizing what real and true love is.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #anthony x kate #julia quinn #kate sheffield #netflix bridgerton #jonathan bailey #daphne bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #siena rosso #siena x anthony #kate x anthony #anthony x siena #simon x daphne #eloise bridgerton #shondaland #penelope featherington #colin x penelope #random thought

[floatingcatacombs]

Analyzing That One Adolesence Of Utena Scene Where Juri Makes A Pass At Miki

12 Days of Aniblogging 2020, Day 10

First things first: Adolescence of Utena is great! I’m not sure if people still have extremely divisive opinions on it or if we’ve all come around to a general consensus, but I’m firmly in the camp that digs it. It’s a mess in the best of ways – running fast and loose with the themes and imagery of the show and changing the framing just enough to force a new perspective and expand on the show’s existing metaphors in important ways. But it’s also dense, esoteric, and filled to the brim with scenes and entire characters that don’t seem to resolve themselves properly. Let’s look at my favorite!

We begin half an hour into the movie with Student Council friends(?) Juri and Miki walking into a deeply sinister garage. We aren’t privileged enough to get a clear answer why, and the last few scenes have been an incredibly obtuse mix of vignettes. According to Juri, this garage leads to the End of the World, which is confirmed seconds later when Prince Dios is found just standing there.

Unperturbed, Juri starts to grill Miki on why he’s even dueling in the first place. He offers the most macho response he can think of: that he just wishes to gain power. He’s betrayed by a car lift right behind him showing his sister’s name on a license plate.

Juri makes a snide remark about his masculinity as the camera pans towards a rubber ducky, summoned from a previous scene in which Miki’s sister holds him at knifepoint for trying to emotionally move past her.

It’s really a 3-hit combo! Miki is hardly in this movie, and the two scenes that he features heavily in really just rip him apart. If you take away his relationship with the Anthy (he doesn’t even get a duel in this movie), then he’s nothing. Miki is at the bottom of the Ohtori power rankings in the show as well, but here he doesn’t even have Touga to fuck his sister and force him out of passivity. He’s stumbling in the dark for some claim at power and getting totally emasculated in the process.

Miki puts the question back on Juri, and she successfully dodges it without even using the word “miracles”. And then she does this.

Why would Juri make a pass at Miki, and in such an unromantic place as the creepy prince garage? Utena’s openly gay in this version of the academy, so surely Juri shouldn’t have to burden herself with compulsory heterosexuality. The tank in the background says it all – it’s a power move through and through. Miki’s already had his masculinity buried to the ground after being overpowered by his sister and both Juri and the camera saw right through his posturing. He's already a feminine boy by any account (especially with the movie mullet), so having a lesbian flirt with him is just a coup de grace for his masculinity.

Then Shiori shows up.

As it turns out, the darkness of the garage leads not to End of the World, but to Shiori, although they might as well be the same to Juri.

After an obvious lie as to why she’s here, Shiori starts blackmailing and manipulating Juri so that she’ll have to duel Utena. Why she’s doing this is kind of unclear, but what’s obvious is that Miki can only stand there and watch this happen.

In a sense Miki is playing surrogate for Ruka here – he’s the third point on this reconfigured triangle, and now would be the perfect time to step in and try to ‘save’ Juri from herself. But he can’t even match up to a shitty ghost, so he just gets to watch this happen and fade away from relevance for the rest of the movie, just like Ruka’s fate.

Miki ends the film with a chance to escape the academy alongside his student council buddies, but they all decline to take that left exit, saying that they’ll join Utena and Anthy on the other side eventually. It’s not his time yet. Miki still has some deep hangups before he can resolve to be his own person. For now he’s stuck in the academy, his coffin, his unsmashed eggshell. At least the most toxic male authority figures are all ghosts this time.

Speaking of cracking eggs, I give Miki 3-5 years tops before he transitions. Frankly, if a lesbian had flirted with me at an impressionable age, I would have given it a shot way earlier.

#12 days of anime #revolutionary girl utena #utena #rgu #miki #juri

[raineeskiesabove]

A Dove’s Song | Venti x Lumine Oneshot

.

“Paimon doesn’t understand why you care so much about that tone-dear bard! He’s quite bothersome if you ask Paimon,” she whined, closely following Lumine.

“He’s a good person, Paimon. You two may butt heads, but you’re both very important to me. As his friend, it’s my duty to be there for him,” Lumine responded.

She gently patted Paimon’s head to express her affection for the tiny familiar. “Well, his elemental trail leads... here,” she said, frowning to see that it was indeed Angel’s Share. She just hoped that he wasn’t wasted. Again.

Opening the door slowly, Lumine was immediately taken aback by the roar of the crowd inside, all gathered around a table. On top of it stood Venti, with a dazed look in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. Despite the rosy color of his cheeks indicating his intoxication, he was still singing and playing the lyre. Albeit, his slurs and odd movements on the instrument were beginning to create more of a comedy act than respectable entertainment.

“Another song I shall play, if a drink someone will pay!” he announced, taking a large swig from a glass offered by an audience member.

“Gods, he’s going to topple over...” Lumine pushed to the center of the crowd, her eyes now at level with Venti’s loafers.

“Ah! Lumi! You’re just in time for another solo!”

She sighed. “Venti, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

“It seems that I have lost count. But I am indeed trying to achieve a new personal record!” He beamed at her, clearly proud of himself about the idea.

Lumine pinched the bridge of her nose, growing annoyed with his silly antics. The last time he attempted to “break a record”, she found him the next day in some back alley in Monstadt. Upon waking him up, Lumine then found herself holding onto him as he emptied last night’s drinks onto the street. So much for being a regal archon.

“Venti, this isn’t safe! Let me take you home!”

“Yeah! Paimon thinks that the tone-deaf bard has had more than enough dandelion wine!”

But by then, Venti had turned his attention towards the next drink someone had paid for him, which he instantly gulped down. Streams of wine ran sloppily down his chin, staining his cape and shirt. The moment he finished the last of the glass, his body paused, seemingly frozen in motion. The crowd grew quiet, expecting the bard to perform another haphazardly done song. But instead, the pause followed with Venti collapsing onto the table, out cold from drinking too much.

“Venti!” Lumine cupped his cheek to get a better look at his face, indeed confirming that he was unconscious. Having no other choice, Lumine hoisted Venti onto her shoulder to half carry, half drag him away, to the utter shock and amusement of the crowd. She grew irritated upon realizing that no one had offered to help, let alone voice something akin to concern. But for them, she realized, this was the norm for this performer. Venti always performed for food and drinks, and overindulgence was more common than not. If anything, she was the odd one for caring enough to drag him away. She could hear Paimon nagging in her ear, saying something about how the tone-deaf bard should be left to sleep on the ground. But Lumine wouldn’t stand for such a thing.

Renting a small room from a local inn, Lumine laid Venti to rest on the room’s single bed. Upon putting him down, Lumine collapsed to the ground, panting from the strain of moving him across town. Beads of sweat ran down her face, which she wearily tried to brush away with her forearm. Meanwhile, Venti was beginning to stir, and Lumine could hear him groaning like a pond frog.

“Where...?”

“We’re at an inn that Lumine dragged you to, and paid for! You owe her!” Paimon shouted.

“Lumine...! How was my performance? They- they liked it, right?” His voice was hoarse and uneven, making it all the more clear that he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Yes, yes, you did wonderfully, Venti. Now try to get some rest-“

“But Lumi!” He grabbed her hand suddenly, making her jump.

“Yes?”

“But did you like it?” His words made Lumine hesitate. The first lie was one thing, but was it fair to lie a second time? She reasoned that her lie was too far gone to backpedal for this second answer.

“Yes, Venti, it was lovely,” she whispered.

“Good, good... I sang... like a dove, to proclaim my love,” he mumbled, his eyes growing heavy. Venti squeezed her hand tightly before drifting into a drunken sleep.

“Ehhhh?! Tone-deaf bard likes Lumine?!” Paimon exclaimed. “Hey! Venti, wake up! Are you messing with us!” Paimon poked and prodded him to no avail, as Venti was out cold. She sighed, turning to Lumine. “That bard really is a fool. There’s no way- huh? Lumine?” Upon looking at her, Paimon saw that Lumine’s face had turned a bright red, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“Wait! Do you actually like that silly bard?”

“N-no! It’s not like that! And, I mean, it’s probably not true, right? People say strange things when they’re not thinking,” she mumbled, now turning away from the bed.

“Hmm, but Paimon thinks you’re lying! Paimon sees how you look at him compared to everyone else. Oooh, Lumine’s in love~” she teased.

Lumine shot Paimon a scowl. She looked at Venti wistfully, shaking her head, “I do love him, but it doesn’t matter. He’s an archon. A protector of freedom. Love would tie him down. I would tie him down,” her voice cracked, her hand meeting her lips to cover her emerging sorrow.

“Don’t say that! Paimon doesn’t like the bard personally, but you deserve to be happy!”

“Thank you, Paimon. But please, don’t tell him. I’ll be the one to decide” she said.

Paimon sighed, “Okay, but Paimon hopes you know what you’re doing.”

“It’ll be fine,” was all Lumine said before leaving to sit by the moonlit windowsill. Alone.

By the time Venti finally came to, the sunlight shone harshly through the now opened window. He was forced to open his eyes gradually, his head spinning from the intense hangover he was now experiencing.

“Boo!” Paimon suddenly appeared in his field of vision, making him jump. “Lumine went to go get some food and supplies for our next trip, so she left Paimon to make sure the bard doesn’t do anything rash!” She crossed her arms proudly to emphasize the importance of her role.

“I see. Will she be back soon?” he muttered.

“Maybe?” Paimon didn’t sound all that confident.

.

Hours passed. As the sun reached its peak and began to fall, Lumine still indicated no sign of returning. By this point, both Venti and Paimon grew worried, and agreed that it was time to search for her.

“Finally! Something we agree on,” Paimon said, watching Venti scribble a quick note in case Lumine came back.

“I am her friend, and the wind is telling me there is something to amend.”

“Oh, well uh, I wouldn’t know,” Paimon answered unconvincingly.

“No matter, we should still work on finding her. At least she has her Vision set to anemo. That makes her easier to find.”

.

Eventually, he and Paimon found her at the shores of a nearby river, close to the outskirts of Monstadt.

“Look! There she-“

“Shh!!” Venti held a finger to Paimon’s lips, silencing her. A scowl formed on her face as she quieted down.

Using his Anemo powers, Venti focused on letting her voice travel on the wind, making it easier for her to be heard.

“...Oh Lumine, you’re such a fool. A human and an archon? One of freedom? It wouldn’t be fair. I just-“ she growled in frustration, periodically throwing stones into the rushing water.

Upon hearing this, Venti grew to realize that that occurrence last night wasn’t a dream. It was real, and she had heard the most unromantic way a bard could’ve possibly confessed their love. But he agreed, in that his affection for her did feel out of character. Were archons even allowed to have such feelings for a mere mortal? The division in their respective roles made him hesitate. Not because he thought lowly of her, but rather about their future. The thought of losing her made his stomach churn, but he tried to convince himself that it was the remnants of alcohol talking.

.

He approached her warily, not wanting to startle her. “Lumi? Lumi, are you alright? You didn’t return so I was getting worried.”

She turned around slowly, her shoulders shaking from trying to hold back her sobs. Venti’s heart ached from the sight of her, his saddened gaze making her cover her face in shame.

“Don’t look at me. Just- just leave, pretend you saw nothing,” she choked.

But he didn’t leave, and instead sighed before beginning to speak. “Lumine, what did I say last night?”

“You don’t... remember?”

“No, I’m sorry. But regretfully I have been listening in. I was worried of where you have been,” he explained, averting his eyes regretfully, “I said something. Something about love, yes?”

She nodded slowly, hugging herself in preparation for his rejection.

“Well, it’s true. I... I am in love with you, Lumine. I just wish I could’ve told you in a better way. Perhaps singing like a dove to express my love would’ve been much better to hear, huh?”

From that statement, Lumine suddenly stopped crying, staring at him with a look of shock. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, only more confused than before.

In the silence, Paimon added her two cents, “Oh, wow! That’s what the bard said last night too! If the rhyme was the same even when he was drunk, he must really care about Lumi!”

“Is that really true? You have feelings for me?” she asked in disbelief, reddened eyes wide with a shocked expression.

Venti nodded slowly, before taking a few steps closer to her. In response, Lumine stepped back, afraid to completely allow herself to be vulnerable in his presence.

“But why? I would take away a part of your freedom,” she argued regretfully.

He smiled, “Yes, that is true. But I’ve always envisioned Monstadt to be a city of romance and new experiences. I just never thought that there would come a day that I too would fall for someone. You’re in pain, Lumine, because you’ve bound your feelings in chains,” by the end of his statement, he found himself frowning again.

“Is it okay?”

“What is?”

“Is it okay... for me to love you?”

“Yes, it is. And it is okay for me to love you in return. This will admittedly not be easy, but I truly believe that the wind brought us together for a reason.”

This time, when he tried to approach her, she didn’t move away, instead letting him slowly step towards her shaken form. As the sun began to set over the horizon, Venti thought about how brilliantly the color reflected in her glassy eyes. It was both a stunning and heartbreaking sight, making his heart skip a beat. Soon, he grew close enough to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. In his embrace, Lumine found comfort in how warm he was. It felt like being enveloped in a warm summer’s day. And it was then, that she finally realized that he truly loved her with all his being. Taking deep breaths, she finally closed her eyes, allotting time for them to rest.

She felt him begin to walk, still holding her close. Lumine followed his lead, trusting him enough to keep her eyes shut. Venti chose a nearby tree to rest under, guiding her down to sit with him. Awkwardly, the way she had clung to him caused her to remain in a seated position on his lap, which he admittedly didn’t mind, but it was enough to make his cheeks heat up. Still, her eyes remained closed as she nuzzled her weary face into the crook of his neck. Save for the sound of their breathing, it was quiet. Paimon had presumably left to give them some much needed space. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

“Lumi, are you asleep?” he whispered.

“No, I am simply resting, dear bard,” she hummed. Her sweet voice sent a shiver down his spine, the affection in her voice making his heart skip a beat.

He wondered if she was teasing him at this point, keeping her gorgeous eyes hidden from his sight. That could be fixed. Placing a hand against her cheek, he slowly lifted her face, brushing his thumb against her smooth skin. This time it was Lumine’s turn to shiver, the roughness of his calloused fingertips feeling foreign to her. He smiled to himself, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss against her perfect lips. In his shyness, he only lasted for but a brief moment before pulling away. But he got what he wanted, as the kiss had finally tempted her into revealing her eyes once more. She offered a gentle smile in return, combing a strand of hair behind her ear. Playfully, she leaned her body closer against his, blessing him with a kiss of her own. The feeling sent sparks flying in his head, his hands moving away from her face to run through her choppy hair. He felt her hands move to rest against his chest, lightly gripping his shirt to maintain balance. The two only pulled apart when Lumine finally had to pause for air, gasping for breath. Venti planted a final kiss on her forehead before tilted her face towards his gaze. The prominent circles under her eyes made him frown.

Summoning his lyre, Venti strummed it thoughtfully, playing a gentle score. With it, accompanied his voice, now expressed in the form of a soft lullaby. As he sang, he felt her head lean against his chest, her breathing growing slower with each note. By the end of his song, Lumine was already fast asleep, still holding onto him tightly. Her serene expression made him smile softly, “Off to the land of nod I see. Goodnight my friend... my love.”

#venti x lumine #venti #genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #genshin impact venti #genshin #genshin venti #genshin lumine #lumine #lumine x venti #genshin impact lumine #traveler x venti #venti x mc #venti x reader #genshin oneshot

[blueskrugs]

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! 

#cait writes things #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

[bthump]

hello, i just recently read berserk and i am absolutely blown away. im so glad to have found your blog, you have made a lot of in depth analyses on griffguts and honestly i have a lot of trouble comprehending griffith's and gut's relationship and feelings toward each other post-eclipse but i feel like you clarified a lot of things for me and im so grateful! i also wanna ask smth in regards to guts and casca but character limit soon so ill do it in another ask. just wanna say i appreciate you!

idk if its just me being ridiculously biased but i cant rly see the guts/casca ship? like i can tolerate it because i feel like it was written to move the plot in a certain direction/character development and not for the sake of romance but i always feel like guts was just... there. i mean when you compare the way he thinks abt griffith to casca in the golden age arc, he obviously reveres griffith so much, and casca is just... there. i really enjoyed their moments and thought they were cute but

with the sex scene i always just saw it as them coping. i did like it in how it explored guts's sexual trauma and it mostly seemed like guts and casca were friends doing it for the sake of coping rather than out of love and desire for each other. not to mention judeau who kept trying to push them together... but then post-eclipse, it seems like guts is so in love w/ her and thats why hes heartbroken, and not bc they were close friends and that he just cares for her as a fellow hawk member

idk maybe im missing something, i would love to be enlightened bc i rly scratch my head when i see people describing it as an amazing love story and a romantic ship when to me it comes off as less like trying to portray a passionate love b/w two characters and more as, this is necessary for guts's character development and motivation in regards to griffith. esp when i feel like guts and griffith's feelings for each other are just so intense, even if its more "subtle" than an outright sex scene

thank you so much! I'm v glad my blog helped clarify some stuff about the story for you, I appreciate you letting me know <3

well if you want to be enlightened about how Guts and Casca is actually super romantic deep down you've come to the wrong place lol because you've mostly described how I feel about their relationship.

I completely agree that during the Golden Age their relationship felt very much like two friends hooking up. The fact that Judeau had to push them into it seems really telling to me, there are strong indications that they're both rebounding from Griffith, as soon as Griffith re-enters the picture they get weird and jealous, after they have sex Guts calls his sword all there is for him and invites Casca along in as non-committal a way as you can, Guts decides independent of Casca to stay with Griffith instead of leaving with her just as Casca decides the same, I also want to shoehorn in a link to this thing I wrote lol, etc.

And I actually don't see any difference after the Eclipse tbh. I actually wonder which translation you read, because I know at least one of the scanlations out there has Guts talk about how he loves her a few times post-Eclipse while the Dark Horse translation never does.

I think Guts' relationship with Casca after the Eclipse is largely based on obligation. It's actually kind of striking to me how unromantic it is.

Like during the Conviction arc he doesn't stop everything he's doing and decide to save Casca once he realizes she's in danger. He goes to check on her, finds her missing, then sits down in Godo's cave and debates with himself for two chapters before deciding to try to find her. And he only comes to this decision after comparing leaving Casca behind to leaving Griffith behind in the snow, and thinking of her as the last remnant of the Hawks ("this last feeble flame.")

I think to Guts she represents everything he threw away when he left the Hawks, and saving her is essentially a chance to better himself and try to make up for it. I don't think that's Guts' only motivation for saving her and then taking her to Elfhelm, I actually have a post here where I wrote a list of all the reasons I think Guts has if you're interested, but I do think it's the most important one.

And man after he saves her and returns her to Godo's, right before the Hill of Swords?

To me this excellent page - Casca mirroring a child, Griffith looking Like That, Guts' attention torn from Casca because Griffith looks Like That - just screams that Casca is Guts' responsibility while Griffith is Guts' desire. Whether that's revenge or latent attraction or probably both l b r, Griffith is the dude Guts wants to be pursuing and Casca is the person Guts is stuck with.

Even when he sexually assaults her it's all about Griffith lol, it's not even framed as, say, Guts being so attracted to her he can't help it or anything like that, it's framed as "do this and you'll get closer and closer to Griffith."

After learning her mind can be restored he potentially starts thinking about her more romantically, like there's subtext there when he watches Casca with Moonlight Boy on the beach, eg. And even that reads to me as Guts trying to distract himself from his "obsession" with Griffith.

I think Guts wanted to get back together with Casca after getting her sanity back for the same reason he had sex with her the first time - as a distraction from confusing and painful feelings. In the most recent chapters we saw that it didn’t work out and now he’s swinging his sword again, frustrated, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now, which in itself shows that he wasn’t trying to selflessly help Casca because he loves her, he mainly just needed something else to focus on while trying to kick his Griffith addiction.

SO yeah, basically ia that their relationship doesn’t seem romantic pre-Eclipse, but I also don’t think there’s much of a romantic element post-Eclipse either. I felt like it was fairly consistent throughout.

#ask #a #b #ship: gtsca #theme: revenge #theme: repression #character: guts

[linmeiwei]

How I changed my mind about Georgette Heyer’s A Civil Contract

I am one of those who, after reading this novel once in my twenties, put it away with a sense of disappointment. Don't get me wrong, I still thought this was a solid regency novel, quality-wise as good as anything Heyer was capable of producing. But the romance! 

All the way through I sympathised with Jenny and was pained for Jenny, and in the end when she still wishes so much that Adam could love her as he loved Julia, I had felt unsatisfied and annoyed. I’m in my thirties when I revisited this novel. And I have to say... it's like I'm reading a different book! Honestly, I would posit that this is the only real romance Heyer ever wrote. Let me explain. Also, warning...

Instead of reading this novel from Jenny's perspective, as I did before, I read it, this time, from Adam's. I guess this is something new readers of Heyer might not know, but Heyer started writing for her brother, and was guided and edited by her father, and so her romances are actually very sympathetic towards men and much more oriented towards masculine sensibilities than you might be used to from other romances. In fact, I thoroughly recommend her novels to everybody, man or woman, romance-reader or not, because there is so much more adventure, history and comedy in them, than there ever is of the smooshy stuff. But that's by the by. So, reading this from Adam's perspective changes everything, because he is the actual protagonist of this novel, not Jenny. He is the more complex character, the one who grows and changes, the one whose arc we are really observing. Adam is a soldier, an attractive young man who is in love with a beautiful girl. When his father dies and saddles him with a ruined estate and mountains of debt, the dream of marrying the beautiful girl has to die, along with any plans and hopes Adam might have had. His world is turned upside down and out of a sense of responsibility he agrees, reluctantly and with some misgivings, to marry the plain and prosaic Jenny. She is the daughter of a vulgar but kind tradesman. She is not vulgar herself, though, but practical, sensible and (though Adam doesn't know it) in love with Adam. She agrees to the match because (as she later confesses to his sister in one of this novel's most heartbreaking scenes) this is the only way she could have helped him. She knows he is in love with somebody else. She knows she is too plain to ever attract him the way his first love, Julia, did. But she is determined that he shall be comfortable with her, at least, and so sets to work to accomplish this. Heyer does not mince matters. She goes to work to find the places in which such a marriage would rub and clash. She tells you, the reader who expects sighs and budding lusts and ugly-duckling-to-beautiful-swans transformations, that Adam looks upon his bride, the girl he had just married, and is momentarily repulsed by her. She tells you how awkward their honeymoon was. She lets Jenny's father trample into their marriage with his well-meaning but annoying and domineering offers to lavish the couple with every extravagant luxury. She also lets Adam yearn for another woman. But as the novel goes on, she also allows Jenny to shine - not in the way Julia did, not by ever becoming slender and beautiful, but by being herself: solid, plain but sensible, attentive to her husband's actual needs, attentive to her new home, intelligent, resourceful, caring. She allows Adam to see it, and as he grows up, to slowly appreciate and learn to love her. The story is really about his growing up: from the boy who yearns to be a soldier in action and desires with all his heart and body the beautiful, unattainable dream of a girl, to the man who farms, brings his house out of ruin, and loves his plain but capable wife. As a young romance reader I really wanted him to fall head over heels in love with Jenny. But as a grown up married woman, I know now that if that were what Heyer had written, I would have found it sweet for a few seconds and then I’d have put the book down and forgotten it as a nonsensical fantasy. Even when I did not like this romance, I have to admit, I never forgot it. Scenes from this one stuck with me much more than any from any other Heyer novel. Adam gaining a thorough, genuine appreciation of Jenny, a deep and warm liking, a feeling of being comfortable and being at home is romantic in a way that stays with you and makes you wonder, more deeply than any other romance, what love really is. And whether the romances we read really are about love. It seems by definition that they should be. But how often are they about couples who, seeing each other once, get all horny and behave silly? How often is it about couples who don't know each other really at all? That’s not love, is it? Love is about knowing someone and understanding them to their core, caring about someone, worrying about them, feeling complete and relaxed when in their company. In that sense, Jenny and Adam’s is the most really romantic romance of all of Heyer’s work. For all that Heyer makes you go through to get to that ending, it really is satisfying when Adam finally sees Julia for the sentimental airhead she is. It is soul-satisfying to have her bothering him with nonsense when he hasn't even had his breakfast yet. Jenny might have her own unrealistic fantasies about love, just the way Adam does, but when he looks upon her and kisses her and tells her that he loves her, I know that that is precisely what he means. He is not infatuated with her, blinded by her or giddy with longing for her. He loves her the way a husband loves his wife when all that nonsense passes. In fact, he loves her the way you, the reader, know he would never have grown to love Julia. With her he'd only ever have had that first rush of blind bewitchment, and when that dissolved, it would have left him with nothing but pleasant memories of a youthful passion. She would have grown as tiresome a burden to him as his mother is. So, here I am, ready to eat crow! Lovers of A Civil Contract...

I apologise to all the people with whom I argued about this novel being unromantic! I was wrong and you were right. There.

#georgette heyer #a civil contract #book review

[kayoticworld]

Just like you...

Genshin Impact

WARNINGS: None?

Be nice, English is not my native language and this is basically just a little test to see if people like it. If yes, I'll upload more

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Diluc! I'm not here to boss you around! I want to help! Why don't you get that?!"

A young woman with long purple hair stood in front of the tavern owner. Tears made her flaming pink eyes sparkling, but not a single drop had left them yet. She held back her emotions with all affordable strength, yet the air around that woman seemed to be charged with pure electric energy.

"And I told you, that I don't need any help. Why don't you get that, Akali?", he answered with his arms crossed.

Diluc was always distant, nevertheless she tried to be close to him. Ever since they were little, she tried her best, but now Akali wondered why she even tried.

"Fine."

No more words were spoken. She bit her lip, so there wouldn't be any words she'd regret. Only the bitter sweet taste of her own blood.

With all the strength left in her bones, Akali walked out of the room, her head up high and not looking back. Only so could she remain her dignity.

By all the Archons, she wished that he would shout after her, stop her, call her name, but he never did.

He never would. It just wasn't Diluc's way.

It's been years since they last saw each other. Many things had changed, but Diluc didn't. He remained as stubborn and cold as she left him.

Why couldn't he just accept her help?

Akali passed some guests of the tavern when she stormed out of the backroom. It was hard to keep her mind focused on all the anger and thoughts, when there was so much joy all round. All of the people were having lively conversations while hovering infront of their glasses.

She couldn't take the atmosphere right now. It made her sick.

All those noisy people engaged in their happy conversations, drinking expensive wine on wooden chairs in Dilucs tavern. What in earth was she thinking? That he'd change? That he'd accept help just this once?

His honor came before everything, even their friendship. Ugh! There are people's life on the line and Diluc kept on playing the hero who didn't need help, when he actually did.

Who else could he ask for help? Or maybe who else could she ask?

But just before Akali could leave the stuffy air of Diluc's tavern behind, the door opened and it was none other than her other childhood best friend.

"Kaeya?"

It didn't took her long to recognize him. He stood out by everything he wore, his eyepatch, the long dark blue hair and his eyes. They had the most beautiful icy color, Akali had ever seen and she had seen many.

But apparently not only she did recognize the one in front of her.

"Kali! What are you doing here? Having a glass of wine without me?", he grinned.

Of course he noticed the tears in her eyes, the way her face had turned all red when she was angry and the static in the air, but most importantly he noticed Diluc, who had just now returned to his spot behind the counter and was keeping an eye on them.

Something must have happened, it always did.

"I'm staying in Mondstadt for a few days and I thought I... visit someone.", she bitterly admitted.

"Well then, would you fancy having a drink together? Telling me about your adventures, perhaps? Or if you'd prefer, we could go somewhere else."

"No! No... It's okay. We can stay... I would gladly spend some time with you."

Under the strict eyes of the tavern owner the two of them sat down in a corner at the back of the establishment, away from all the noise, the bard's music and happenings.

Kaeya had aged really well, Akali thought to herself. He had indeed become very attractive. She even dared to think that he looked fancy.

Something about him had always been kind of exotic... Maybe that was why he stood out. But on her journey Akali had learned to sort of like the things that stood out.

"So tell me, what have you been doing all these years?", the blue haired asked.

"Traveled the world. I've just wanted to see as much as possible. I worked for different people, helped most of them too. And now I'm here for sometime. It's really not that special."

Kaeya leaned back in his chair. Blue eyes still focused on her silhouette.

The three of them, Akali, Diluc and him were childhood friends. They spend many years of training together. They were like family, one could have even said.

Together they had been through so much fun and trouble... Memories of better times, that layed way to long in the past.

For now Kaeya could only remember how much he wanted the little purple haired girl to be happy. Or maybe he always tried to make that happen.

A long time had passed since she left and now instead of the cute, friendly girl, that picked on him and made him laugh, a young, beautiful woman was sitting right next to him.

"I think it is very interesting indeed. You need to tell me more."

A grin formed on both their lips, as she looked up from the table and directly into his ice blue eyes.

"Well, I guess I can tell you some stories, but what about you? Are you a knight of the order? Or just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know. Just independent, like others...", she said slightly teasingly, with a slick eye roll.

"I'm a knight. Cavalary Captain of the Knights of Favonius, to be exact."

"Wow, sounds like alot of responsibility."

"It is. Although the grandmaster took all the Cavalary and now there is none for me to captain.", he nodded with a soft simile on his lips.

"But tell me, for how long have you been in Mondstadt?"

A short silence settled in between the two. Not long enough to make it awkward, but also not short enough to go unnoticed.

It was a moment of thinking.

"I arrived two days ago. But-", Akali couldn't finish her explanation about how she wanted to go see him after some things were sorted out, as a waitress interrupted the talk.

"H-Hello, d-do you know what you'd like to order yet?", the woman asked nervously.

Kaeya knew her. Donna, a shy, mousy girl, although very friendly, but she had a crush on Diluc, for literally all the wrong reasons. Hm, not that that was something new.

"The usual, for the both of us this time.", he quickly responded.

"O-okay."

Quickly Donna left. Her cheeks had the color of wild raspberries by the moment she could finally leave their table and over her, one could only see Diluc's flaming red eyes darting towards the two, but none of them actually cared.

"So... the usual, huh?"

"Oh don't worry. It's called "Death by Afternoon", which is sparkling wine with three parts dandelion wine. You'll like it. Trust me."

Of course she trusted him.

They both shared a moment. Of course, Kaeya forgot that Kali didn't drink. Surprisingly enough that the usually confident woman didn't intervine.

"What about your non-drinking attitude?", he winked.

"Let's say that that changed over the years. I wouldn't want to be caught dead with a glass of grape juice in my hands, now would I?"

Of course she nagged Diluc over his favorite drink, just like Kaeya usually did.

"Some people are just unromantic."

They shared a laughter together, that felt like it had been the first time in forever. So that is what both of them missed.

"Maybe you're right. But I hope you didn't order anything bitter. You know, I'm not really into that."

"Don't worry. Death by afternoon is a Mondstadt speciality. Dandelion wine makes the bitterness of the sparkling wine disappear completely. You'll like it, I'm sure of that."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"You got good taste."

The adventure and the knight engaged in a lively talk about their work, their experiences and even their childhood.

It's been too many years since Akali had last visited Mondstadt. Everything seemed to be new, but from outside it nothing seemed to ever really change.

Diluc gave them another glare.

What else could he do? Kaeya was a charming as one could be and Akali was falling for it. He didn't mind it going on for an hour, at least Diluc tried to talk himself into thinking that, but the more they drank, the closer they got.

A little gesture here. A small touch there. They were friends, but this behavior annoyed him.

Usually he was the one, who had this... thing going on with the electric user. They had this sort of connection, where he didn't mind her being close to him. But her being close with Kaeya? It made him angry.

Was that... jealousy, he felt?

Quickly he shook his head, trying his best to keep a straight face.

"Wait! You really started that ruin guard just to prove your point?", Kali giggled.

"Well, let's just say, no one will ever question my authority again."

Fascinated by her beauty, Kaeya watched her laugh at his story. The feeling of a close friend from the past at his side... He couldn't even remember when he last felt that familiarity.

"That's enough."

Rough, like a hot wind hitting a wall of ice, Diluc stood in front of their table.

Theratingly he had his arms crossed infront of him.

The other two just shared a look of slight amusement.

"What have we done this time?"

"We pissed him off, that's what it is, Kaeya."

"You are both drunk."

Both laughed. They did drink some glasses, maybe one or two over their usual limit, but neither Kaeya nor Akali were drunk.

"No, we're not.", the knight wanted to explain, but he got interrupted by his friend.

"Seems like we're not welcome here anymore, Kaeya. Let's pay and go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere where we are more welcome."

Diluc instantly tried to correct this statement, but he couldn't go on about is explanation.

"That's not what I meant."

"You never mean anything, Diluc. See ya."

Kali grabbed her companion's upper arm and dragged him out of the tavern, but not without giving Diluc a last sarcastic wave.

Other guests noticed the scene, but most of them didn't. A great part of the customers had already left, that is how late it had gotten.

Cursing Kaeya, himself and even Akali in his head Diluc had watched them leave in silence.

He scoffed.

Well, he ruined it. Great. Was that the only thing he managed to do?

#Genshin impact #genshin impact fandom #genshin impact fanfiction #Kaeya alberich #Kaeya x Reader #Diluc #Diluc x Reader #Mondstadt #Liyue #Kaeya #Jean #Lisa #Genshin kaeya #Genshin Diluc #Genshin venti #Xiao #Childe #Zhongli #Paimon #Idk what else to put here

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

cold soup

request: Hi love, could we have 74 and 63 with Mat Barzal? Love your writing 💕

prompt: “Why didn’t you call me?” & “You’ve been crying, I can tell.” / numbers 63 & 74 off of this list.

summary: you’re sick and don’t want to ruin Mat’s guys night so you suffer silently at home.

warnings: none

word count: 1.3k

requested by: @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx​

The night had planned did not originally involve you laying on the couch, wallowing in self pity and sickness. But, there you were, wrapped up in not only your boyfriend’s sweatshirt but two blankets and still shivering. 

You were supposed to have a fun night with your friends, catching up on the latest gossip that would probably end up with you a little wine drunk. This night had been in your calendar for weeks, and you even planned on missing the Islanders game. Though, per Mat’s request, you would stream it on your phone because ‘every goal I score is for you, but what’s the point if you're not watching?’, to which you’d tell him he was scoring those goals to get to the Stanley cup, and he’d huff and call you unromantic. 

Since you had planned on staying late at your friends, Mat had arranged to go out for drinks with some of the guys. You figured that since they had won their game, they deserved a bit of celebrating.

When you had felt the symptoms of a cold that morning when you woke up, you cursed your luck and took some medicine. Work had been hell, and only worsened how you felt. By lunch, you had developed a runny nose and as soon as you got into your car to head home your scratchy throat had grown into full-blown cough that wouldn't seem to let up. 

Mat was gone by the time you arrived, and sure enough you checked your phone to see that he had texted that he was heading into the rink a bit early. You were still holding out hope that you would be able to make it to your friend’s place, but all bets were off once you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and droopy, like you were moments away from passing out right there on the tiled floor. Your skin was paler than usual, and you were starting to see why your coworker had told you that you looked a bit green. 

There was no way around it—you were sick.

You texted your friend the unfortunate news, stating that you wouldn't be able to make it and they quickly responded that they’d pour one out for you. The image of them pouring out a glass of wine in your memory made you giggle, which instantly triggered a fit of coughs.

By the time you had settled and caught your breathe, you had made your way into the bedroom you share with your boyfriend before grabbing a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies to wear instead of your work clothes. You made a nest of blankets on the couch in your living room, queuing up your current Netflix binge as you waited for the Islanders game to start. 

And you were still there, hours later, your patience growing thin as you waited for Mat to return. You weren’t mad at him for going out, in fact you had encouraged him, but you felt like utter shit, to put it nicely. It may have seemed juvenile, but you just wanted your boyfriend to come home and take care of you like you knew he would if he knew the state you were in. But he deserved some time out with the boys, and you couldn't help but grin at the ridiculous snaps he’d send you of Tito wincing after doing a shot. Plus, you were certain the entirety of Long Island would come for your head if you got the Mathew Barzal sick.

It was nearing half past midnight when the self pity started to kick in. Your head ached and your whole body felt sore from staying in one position for so long. You knew you should try and make yourself something for dinner other than the bowl of canned soup you had heated up earlier, but the prospect of eating something in your current state had your stomach churning. 

It was then that you started thinking about how badly you wanted to be cuddled up in your loving boyfriend’s arms, even if that would put him at risk of contracting whatever you had.

It didn't take long for you to start crying. You weren't even sure why you were crying exactly, probably a mixture of your sickness and being away from Mat that had you curling up into a ball on the couch. 

Your outburst hadn't lasted terribly long, and soon enough you had composed yourself enough to quiet down to just some sniffles as you used the sleeves of Mat’s hoodie to wipe your tears. 

As if he knew he was desperately needed at home, the front door opened and Mat appeared. When he spotted you on the couch, he didn't notice the sickness that clearly had its hold on you—or the mountain of used tissues piling in the small garbage can you had brought over. 

“You’re home?” Mat questioned. You could tell he wasn't drunk by the simple statement—that, and by the text he had sent you earlier in the night saying he had lost rock paper scissors and was the one responsible for making sure everyone got home safe. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, despite the fact that you were making the grabby hands at him to silently tell him you need attention. 

Mat was a few steps away from giving you the loving you’d been missing all night when he froze in his spot. You noticed the furrow in his brow as he examined your face, and you wondered if you actually looked so gross, your boyfriend refused to touch you.

“You’ve been crying, I can tell.” He stated, matter of factly, and you almost giggled. But that would've made you start coughing, and you weren't up for that. It was most likely very obvious that you had been crying—sobbing, actually. It was most likely certain that your eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, not to mention how puffy your face got. Your cheeks even felt wet still, so you were certain there was still tear tracks that you hadn't managed to wipe away yet. 

“I didn’t go out tonight.” You explained, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. When Mat’s look on confusion showed no signs of lifting, you continued. “I’m sick. And I felt really gross, and I missed you so I kinda... cried.” You winced. Saying the words out loud made you feel a lot more childish than you originally had thought. 

“Why didn’t you call me? I would've come home early.” Mat asked, as he moved to kick off his shoes before climbing onto the couch. He wedged himself between the back and where you were laying on your side, and you adjusted yourself so that your head was resting on his chest. 

“I wanted you to have fun with the guys.” You mumbled, your eyes closing unconsciously as his hand found its way into your hair, massaging gently at your scalp. Already his touch was making you feel better.

“I see them practically every day, I would've been fine missing one night going out.” You could hear the chuckle in his voice and you hummed to let him know you had heard him. “Did you watch the game tonight at least?”

“Two goals, just for me. I missed the second one though, because I was making soup.” You stated absentmindedly, already halfway asleep. You felt his chest rumble as he laughed, and he spotted the untouched bowl of cold soup sitting on the coffee table. 

“I see it was worth it.” He teased, the only act of retaliation you were capable of mustering up being pinching his side, though he barely felt it. You could feel his gaze on you, but you were succumbing to sleep so quickly you were losing the battle of staying awake. “I love you, you know.” “I love you too, Mat.”

#mat barzal #Mathew barzal #mat Barzal x reader #mat Barzal imagine #mat Barzal imagines #Mathew Barzal x reader #Mathew Barzal imagine #Mathew Barzal imagines #nyi #New York islanders #New York Islanders imagine #New York Islanders x reader #hockey #nhl #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Reader saying in the middle of an argument, “I mean, look at me! why would Erik Stevens want to be with me?!”

That first kiss between Erik and Y/N was magical when she dreamt of it but in reality, it was a nightmare. It was unplanned and the look Erik gave her made Y/N feel embarrassed and unwanted. Before Erik could even speak on it, Y/N was out the door. She was glad Erik didn’t chase after her at that moment. Why the fuck did she kiss him?! she knew why but the thought of it made her lips hungry for more. 

It’s those soft plush lips of his. It was Y/N’s favorite physical feature on Erik. what started off as a friendly conversation about mutual interests in music turned into Y/N leaning over Erik’s broad body for a kiss. Her lips smashed into his in the most non-sexy way, his lips practically enveloping hers; their teeth clashing. His lips felt exactly how she imagined it would; clouds and as sweet as cotton candy. He used cocoa butter on his lips too...mmm. Her cheeks flamed up and all Erik did was sit there with a raised brow and wide eyes. She wanted him to say something sexy or pull her onto his lap and tongue her down but all he did was stare. That’s when she slipped on her sneakers, grabbed her crossbody bag, and left. She could hear Erik calling out her name but she couldn't look him in the face right now, the confidence she finally allowed herself to have come crashing down before her. Y/N angrily stabbed the button to the elevator within his building. She did it so often that she was afraid the button was broken because of her. Before she could even take the stairs, Erik was out of his apartment with his body stepping in front of her to stop her. His large muscular frame blocked the entire entrance to the stairwell. She couldn’t squeeze her body through even if she tried. She wanted to cry herself dry from how awful she felt. 

“Erik, please move.” She finally spoke to him without looking at him. She felt so weak and vulnerable. This was too overbearing.

“Not until you talk to me.” He crossed his arms over his chest like a bodyguard would. Y/N kissed her teeth, turning her back on him to angrily wipe her tears away from her puffy eyes. She was more so upset with herself than at Erik for blocking her escape. Y/N cried over everything. He probably thought she couldn’t hold her own. 

“There is nothing to talk about, Erik, your face said it all in the apartment!” She was hiccupping now from crying. Gosh, She just wanted to hide in her bed for days and put her phone on airplane mode. This was a nightmare. All of this because of one risky kiss. A kiss that she would have been proud of initiating if it wasn’t for Erik’s reaction. 

“I just love how you know how I feel without even asking me.” He spoke with an annoyed tone. 

“How am I supposed to know when you sat there staring at me like I was crazy for kissing you.” 

“I’m talking to you with your back turned, Y/N. We are both adults. If you got something to say, look at me when you do it.”

She knew Erik hated that. He wanted eye contact all the damn time. 

“I can’t even look at your face right now.” 

“This is ridiculous, Y/N,” Erik steps around to face her, using his force to hold her in place. She was staring at his chest instead, “Can we talk about this? which is it? are you afraid because you kissed me or are you afraid to look at me? I’m thinking it’s both.”

“I can be afraid of both right now!”

“I think it’s fucking silly.” He didn’t like the lack of confidence she had over a fucking kiss. Yeah, it wasn’t the most passionate but so what? She had kissed him; made the first move. Erik actually liked it when their teeth clashed. It showed him how desperate she wanted that kiss. She pulled back so fast he didn’t have time to grab her round face and take control of the situation. 

“Wow,” She glanced at him briefly before rolling her eyes away, “You find my embarrassment to be a joke.”

“I find it to be unnecessary considering the fact that I actually liked the kiss.”

“What?” Y/N asks with a stunned expression. 

Erik let’s out an exasperated sigh, “Can we go back inside?”

Fuck it. Can’t avoid it forever. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Erik leads the way back inside of his apartment, closing the door behind Y/N. She took a cautious step forward, removing her bag and shoes again to take her place on the couch where it all went down. 

“I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen to me,” Erik tells her.

“Okay,” She gives in.

“You have a thing for me which I’ve always known about but I didn’t push you on it because I felt you weren’t ready to tell me. The kiss tonight was just shocking for me. You threw me off. That’s not to say that it was a bad thing I just didn’t expect that to happen, Y/N. I actually liked it and I wanted to continue but you dashed out of here so fucking fast I couldn’t even grab you.”

“You liked that mess?” 

“Why are you calling it a mess? so what if it was sloppy and unromantic.” 

“This just wasn’t how I planned it to be...”

Erik Stevens enjoying that kiss was as believable as him having feelings for her. All of it amazed her. She wasn’t like the usual girls he fucked with. She just didn’t fit into that category. 

“I like you, Y/N. I can tell by that look on your face that you don’t believe me which is sad because I think you’re fucking beautiful-”

“You like a girl like me?” She says with an amazed expression. 

“Why the fuck do you keep talking like that?” Erik was pissed with her, “You talk so much shit about yourself that makes me mad with you, Y/N.”

“Well, It’s not my fault. You don’t fuck with chicks that look like me.”

Like what?” He wanted her to say it. Plus size, not so glamorous, he wanted her to tell him that because he was going to prove her wrong. 

“You know what I mean, Erik.”

“Nah, I want you to say it since you got me figured out.” 

“I mean, look at me! why would Erik Stevens want to be with a girl like me.”

“I am looking at you I’ve been looking at you. ”

She began to cry again, turning away from Erik on the couch completely. 

“Stop it, Erik.”

“No,” Erik leans over, pressing his lips into the side of her mouth. He continued peppering kisses there until she turned around. When she wouldn’t Erik used some force, grabbing the side of her face so he could press his lips into hers. His mouth moved over her lips in a sloppy manner. He could feel the shudder in her shoulders and taste her tears. Y/N brought her arms around his neck, Erik’s body leaning over her body. 

“This isn’t-”

“Shut up.” He knew she would say this isn’t the perfect moment because she was covered in salty tears. Her actions said otherwise. Y/N was starving for him.

“Your body likes it though,” Erik said between soft kisses. His tongue would tickle her bottom lip but Y/N was too shy to let Erik tongue her down. He was suckling on her bottom lip now. Her eyelids fluttered shut from the sensation and her legs squirmed beneath him. Erik was begging her to kiss him back the way she wanted to. When she finally allowed her tongue to glide with his it was game over. He was fucking her mouth with his tongue. Kissing was enough for both of them right now. Every single time his lips molded with hers she was reminded about how soft and tasty they are. 

“You make me so weak for you,” She spoke against his lips.

God, she was hot and bothered. This man wouldn’t let her breathe. Her lips were probably swollen. 

“I’m weak for you...you feel that?”

Erik’s dick was pressed into the crotch of her jeans. The only response she gave was a bite of her lip. 

“You’re saying how weak you are, can I see for myself?”

Y/N knew what Erik was implying. She allowed him to undo her jeans. His hand sinking into her underwear startled her. She could feel his fingers moving to spread her pussy lips apart. Erik’s fingers rubbed up and down her slit to feel just how weak she actually was. Y/N was oozing onto his fingers like her pussy wasn’t used to this treatment. She was moaning into his mouth now. Erik would press his lips further into hers to swallow her moans. She was squeezing onto his shoulders, her hips moving up and down and her legs spreading further open. The jeans didn’t help but all she could think about was Erik’s thick fingers rubbing her clit and massaging the outside of her entrance. 

“Fuck, how could you say I wouldn’t want you? I am so fucking hard for you right now. Shit don’t make sense.” 

Erik slid his middle finger inside of her, gliding it in and out with his lips on her neck now. Her pleasant moans spoke softly within his ear. Y/N had a hand around his wrist, squeezing it. The feeling was overwhelming her but she wanted more fingers inside of her. Once Erik got her warmed up he had two fingers deep in her pussy. She could hear her wet folds squelching against Erik’s fingers. Just minutes ago she was running away from Erik, now she was on her back with his hand down her jeans. She was weak and dripping for him. The tears that fell from her eyes were tears of pleasure. She’d never let a nigga finger her pussy like this. He had a skill that couldn’t be reciprocated. Before she could even fully enjoy the moment, Y/N was cumming on Erik’s fingers. Her hips were driving into his hand rapidly before she crashed back onto the couch defeated. He brought his lips back to hers while his fingers slowly slipped in and out of her. 

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #writers on tumblr #killmonger #killmonger fic #erik killmonger #killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction

[captnbarnesrogers]

Fall: Pick Your Lover Over Prom Dresses

Pairing/Characters: CollegeAU!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Jealous Bucky, swearing, not much lmao alotta fluff Chapter Summary:  WC: 2.3k+ A/N: 3 more chapters to go!!

PREVIOUSLY FALL MASTERLIST

When you woke up from your deep slumber, you were in Bucky’s arms, warm and secure. You felt more comfortable to walk down the stairs by yourself. To your surprise, Winnie had left a note on the fridge that she and George had gone to work for the day. She added that the plates of food for you and Bucky were inside the fridge, ready to be heated and eaten. You prepared two cups and made some coffee for the both of you. You heated up the food and placed them on a tray, carefully bringing them up the stairs. You placed the tray on the bedside table and snuck yourself in between Bucky’s arms once again.

He began to turn in his sleep before finally opening his eyes and peeping at you.

“Am I in heaven? Because I think I’ve seen an angel.” You laughed as he kissed your cheek.

“If you’ve seen me, you’re probably in Hell.” He let out a groggy chuckle, his arm resting across your stomach, “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Well, I’ve made coffee and heated up some food.” He sat up as you handed him his mug, taking a sip straight away.

“If this is Hell, I wanna stay here forever.” You handed him a fork and you both shared the plate.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Enters Rebecca, panic flushes on her face. You stood up from your spot and rushed over to her.

“Are you okay?” You asked with concern. She took a deep breath before beginning.

“Jessica bailed on me, now I have no one to pick prom dresses with and I’m gonna look like shit and Alex won’t take me if I look like shit.” She says without a breath.

“Well, if Alex won’t take you because you look like shit, he’s an idiot.” Bucky explains with a mouthful, “That’s why I’m dating Y/N, she looks like shit all the time.” You glared at him jokingly.

“Your brother’s right, prom night should be a time to have fun with your friends, not to focus on boys.”

“I dunno Y/N, I lost my-“

“James!” You laughed, “Your sister doesn’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, gross, you gremlin.” He couldn’t stop laughing.

“Besides your brother being stupid, I’d be happy to help you pick a dress out.” You gave her a hug, Bucky watching with adoration with his eye – although he hid it quite well behind his mug of coffee, “Half the fun is picking out a dress.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!!” She exclaimed, embracing you tighter. Rebecca looked at Bucky whilst you both hugged and mouthed, ‘Marry her.’ He shook his head and smiled, hiding his blush.

“Okay, let me get ready and we can go.” She nodded and ran off to her room to do the same. You walked back toward Bucky who finished off his coffee, you planted a kiss on his cheek, “Drive us over?”

“Sure.” He croaked, taken aback by your actions. Surprised at his tone, he laughed, “Yeah, yeah sure.”

He watched you from the bed getting ready. A sweater, some jeans, a beanie; all so simple but you made it look like something that took hours to put together. He began thinking through your entire friendship. How you were the only relationship he put in effort to keep and maybe this was an excuse to finally up the courage he didn’t have back at the university. He shook himself out of the thought and brought the fact back to himself that this was a fake relationship and it was only going to last two weeks. After the two weeks, you’d look back at him as Bucky: your flirtatious friend. You snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Helloooo? Earth to James Barnes?” You giggled.

“Yeah, sorry! I’ll just put some pants on.”

“Okay.”

Rebecca rushed down the stairs excitedly. Her crossbody bag over her shoulders. She described her perfect dress to you. Light filling her eyes and smile plastered across her face.

“Okay so, it’s going to be a red silk dress, right?” You nodded, “with like a dropped neckline and spaghetti straps.”

“Oooh! That’s going to look so good!” You rubbed her back as she entered the backseat of the car and you made your way to the front seat.

“And I’m thinking rose gold hoop earrings and red strappy heels.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he started the engine of the car.

“Geez, it’s senior prom, not a wedding, Bec.”

“Leave her alone, James, I think every seventeen year old senior girl should have a show stopping dress.” Bec agreed with you, hitting the back of his head, truly showing the relationship that she and Bucky had.

Rebecca asked for the Bluetooth in the car to Bucky’s demise. He scrunched his nose at every song that played which made you laugh. He parked in front of the dress shop and stopped the engine.

“Thank the Lord that’s over!” Bec rolled her eyes at her brother’s annoyance, “I’m gonna go meet some friends while you guys pick some dresses, that alright with you, doll?” You nodded. Bec leaned in the middle compartment of the backseat, eyes hopeful, “What do you want, squirt?” You both looked at her.

“Well?” She began.

“What?”

“Aren’t you guys gonna kiss goodbye?” You blushed. Bucky choked on air.

“Um, yeah, of course we were about to!” You said leaning into Bucky and giving him a peck.

“You guys are the most unromantic couple on earth… That? That was pathetic.” She exited the car and entered the store. You finally breathed out and your cheeks flushed a deeper crimson.

“That bad, huh?” You asked Bucky nervously.

“I’m not complaining.” He couldn’t stop staring at you and he began to lean in. His hand snaking its way to your cheek and behind your neck. He looked at your lips and back to your eyes. This was it. This was the kiss that would seal the deal.

Multiple loud knocks made their way through the window, disrupting the moment.

“I’m gonna kill her.” You smiled down.

“Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you later?” You nod and he plants a kiss on your cheek. When you exit the car, the icy cold breeze of the air hit your cheek, making you grasp a hold of your body against it. You entered the store and Rebecca was already trying on dresses. Bright lights shone down on the display dresses and the sound of the heaters running through the vents were loud. Bec grabbed a dress from the rack, a little bit different to how she described but she had stated that she was ‘keeping an open mind’. It made you laugh.

“Are you going to try some dresses on as well?” She asked. You shook your head.

“No, but I’ll be brutally honest with the dresses you try on?” You both came to that agreement. She tried on dress after dress after dress. Nothing seemed to look nice and fitting on her until, she found the red dress that she had described a few hours beforehand, “Now that, looks amazing on you.”

“Mind zipping me up, please?” You walked over and pulled the zip up. The dress fitting perfectly on her, “He likes you, you know?” You hummed in response, “Bucky, I can tell, he really likes you, loves you even.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for starters, he brought you home.” She looked at herself in the mirror and walked over to the shoe section, picking out black strappy heels, “He doesn’t do that, he likes to keep his love life and home life completely separate.” She sat down and put the heels on before standing up and walking over to the mirror again.

“That might just be to keep your mom from asking questions.”

“Maybe.” She turned to you and smirked, “Also he looks to you a lot, even when someone else is speaking, ever notice that he’s always following you around like a lost puppy?” Come to think of it, now that she mentioned, he really did, even back at the university, “and how he’s always concerned about where you are, what you’re doing, and pushing himself in situations and places where you are?”

“Your brother and I have been friends for a long time, Bec, I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t know, Y/N, sounds like he’s pretty smitten, huh?” You couldn’t help but blush at the thought, “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to wait until he gets jealous, it’s always the better tell.” She winked. The sales lady walked over with a smile.

“That’s so fitting on you, love!” She fixed the straps and continued, “it’s the only one in the store, guaranteed no one else would have this dress at your prom!” Bec jumped with joy, clapping her hands together. She took off the dress and the heels, taking them to the counter to be bought.

“Do you wanna get a smoothie or something?” She asked.

“Know any good places?”

“You’ll have to learn that I know all the best places.” She said with confidence, propping up and walking down the street. You were distracted from how much Bec and yourself were talking that you didn’t notice someone heading towards you. Before you knew it, you had bumped into them.

“Oh my god,” you shrieked, “I am so sorry!” You looked up to find your friend, Peter, a guy from your screenwriting class.

“Hi, Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“Peter!” You gave him a hug and a smile, “I’m actually here with Bucky.” You turned to Bec, not wanting your little lie to get busted, “Why don’t you head on in? I’ll follow.” She nodded and when she entered, the bell above the door rang out.

“Little sister duty?”

“Yeah, kind of, she needed a prom dress.”

Meanwhile, in the smoothie shop, Bec was texting Bucky. He had asked where you were and she told him where you both were. She had also mentioned to Bucky that you had bumped into a friend. Almost to his convenience, he was nearby and ready to pick you both up.

He looked from afar; you laughed at Peter’s jokes and conversed with wonder. Something bubbled up inside of him. Almost like a fire ready to explode with each word that came out of Peter’s mouth. He started to wonder if you ever laughed like that at his jokes, if you listened with wonder in every conversation you both had. Finally, you both hugged goodbye and you entered the smoothie shop, following Bec.

“Hey!” Bec greeted with a smile, “I got you one of my favourites, it’s an orange sherbet smoothie.” You took a sip.

“Tastes good.” The door bell rang through the shop and in entered Bucky, “Hey.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek and he smiled but almost as if he didn’t want to accept it. His demeanour had changed from this morning and it made your stomach turn. Had something happened whilst you and Bec were picking out a dress?

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“You don’t want a smoothie, Buck?” He shook his head, no. Bec shrugged toward you and stood up from her seat, grabbing the plastic which contained her dress and her shoes. He almost raced to the car as rain started to spit onto the ground.

The ride on the way home was silent. Although, Bec was too busy to notice. You did though. There wasn’t a flirtatious comment coming anytime soon. You were so curious but didn’t want to bring up whatever it was in front of his sister. You tried to put your hand on his shoulder, comforting him somehow but he shrugged your hand off of him. It was you. He was upset at you. You don’t know what you had done but you were so desperate to know why he’d suddenly become so cold. He parked the car in the driveway and walked to the door, opening it and stepping inside. Bec followed and gave you a smile.

“Thank you for today, Y/N, I had fun.” You leaned forward and gave her a hug.

“No problem.” You looked around the room and noticed Bucky had disappeared, “Well, if you’re happy to do this again, I am too.” She nodded and headed into the kitchen. You made your way upstairs and entered the room. Bucky kept himself busy as you sat on the bed, “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know, Y/N, is it?”

“I don’t even know what I did, Bucky.” You stood up from the bed and followed his each step. The room was quite small but you wondered why he felt miles away, “I can’t read your mind.”

“Didn’t say you could.”

“You’re acting like a child!” You stated, making him scoff. He cleaned his desk, stacking notebooks and notepads on top of each other. You walked over to him and hugged him from behind, “Please, Bucky?” He sighed.

“I just-” He turned to face you, “I don’t know, I don’t have the right to but I do- Bec told me that you bumped into Pete.” He hand made its way to your back, rubbing with comfort.

“And?”

“Don’t make me say it, Y/N.” He kissed your head, “I’m sorry.” You’d suddenly put two and two together. You and Pete. He had seen you with Pete.

“You’re jealous.”

“I don’t have an excuse to get me out of this.” He chuckled nervously.

“And you’re jealous because?” You were baiting him to say it, a smile plastered on your face. He shook his head, “Well, you don’t need to be.” You looked up at him. Your hand snaking its way to his cheek. Pulling him down, you planted a kiss on his lips.

“I’m convinced.” He laughed.

----

TAGLIST:

@captianlibby​

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader imagine #bucky barnes x reader drabble #bucky barnes x reader oneshot #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader fluff #sebastian stan x reader fic #sebastian stan x reader imagine #sebastian stan x reader drabble #sebastian stan x reader oneshot #sebastian stan x reader smut

[mstrumpeter]

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,415

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: swearing

Chapter II

When they got to the bar Charlotte did her best to stick to her two best friends which were pretty soon wrapped into their boyfriend’s arms.

Charlotte shared a table with the two couples, Elwood and Murph, who started to report on their latest US tour, which they had ended with tonight’s concert in their home town of course. “Think we can all agree that we got the best response in the Southern cities” “Sure, those mountain people do not know anything about proper dance music and shaking a leg.” Elwood added. And then Murph told the funniest story about how the smashed his e-piano by accident on the highway and how desperate they were to find a new one before the next gig.

Jake ordered a few rounds of shots for everyone and the guys kept on telling some stories from the last few weeks. The rest of the band was lingering at the bar and Mr. Fabulous took a long glance at Charlotte. She was wearing a black dress with golden details on it, black boots and a leather jacket. He really liked her style. And she looked adorable, smiling and laughing about the jokes the others must have told. He admired the young woman for some time until he finally approached her. “May I buy the lady a drink?” “Er.. I-, I…”, she stammered. “Sure, she’d love to!”, Lisa chipped in and gave her friend a soft push towards the trumpet player, who carefully put his arm at Charlotte’s lower back, ushering her towards the bar. “So what does a girl like you likes to drink? A beer? G and T?” “Wine, please, white!”, she gave the bartender an assuring nod. Alan raised his hand. “Any particular wish?” “Right, you’ll probably judge me for that but a Chardonnay, please.. if you got any.” “Make that two, please.” They picked up their glasses and went to the nearest table. “Chardonnay, huh?”, the man laughed. “Why’s that?” “I dunno… My parents love those fancy-schmancy restaurants and I kinda started to like the taste of a good Chardonnay.” She raised her glass “Thanks for the drink, Alan. To the fancy things in life then…?” “And to your first and hopefully not last concert of the Blues Brothers Band!” The two clinked their glasses. “Cheers!” “Surprisingly this one tastes quite delish.”, Alan joked after taking a sip, checking out the bar in an exaggerated manner and they both laughed. “Well, to be honest I think wine is the only fancy thing I like. Can’t even stand the food at those restaurants, most times I order a salad, can’t do much wrong with that.” “I guess that’s true.” “How long have you been playing with these boys?” “A few years know. I know Jake back from NY City and he asked me to join these fellas. Good thing I didn’t know how nut these boys were, I’d probably have never agreed to that.” He looked at Charlotte and couldn’t quite read her face, so he quickly added “I’m just kidding, they’re great… So, what do you do when you’re not dragged to concerts of your bestfriend’s boyfriends?” “You know, college stuff. I study law.” Alan gave Charlotte an acknowledging nod. “Oh? You wanna become a lawyer?” Her mood suddenly changed. “Well, my dad is one, so…” She quickly changed the topic and cleared her throat. “May I ask you something?” “I’ll answer you everything you wanna know.” She blushed. What was he doing to her? She insecurely pushed around her glass. “Soo… Why that nickname?” She emphasised “Mr. Fabulous?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He took a big sip from his glass and licked his bottom lip after swallowing. Charlotte felt hypnotised. She couldn’t take her eyes from his sensuous chiseled lips. “I guess I AM fabulous.” Charlotte softly moaned “You certainly are.” The following awkward silence brought her back to reality. “Gosh, did I just say this? I’m so sorry.”, she apologised. “The wine must have gotten into me.” God, she wanted to slap herself for that. “It’s alright, thought it was rather cute.” She looked up from her glass into his beautiful hazelnut eyes and could have stayed there forever.

“Do you like another drink?”, he offered her. “Huh? Oh no, it’s really getting late. I think I better leave!” “Sure I’d be happy to take you home.” “Thanks for the offer, Alan but I got here with Sophia, her car’s still parked outside.” “So?” “Well I bet she wants me to drive back with her.” “I bet she don’t.” Charlotte sighed and looked over to her friend, who was sitting on Jake’s lap, one arm around his neck, wearing his hat. “Look, I’m sorry, don’t wanna force you into anything.” “Would you give me minute with her?”, Charlotte asked the handsome musician and went over to her friend. “Hey girl. Did you check the time recently? I really need to get home.” “Oh I’m sorry hun. I planned on spending the night with Jake… You know he’s been on tour so much lately, we barely got to see each other the past few months.” “Ffs, c’mon, you can’t let me down.” “On the contrary, looks like Mr.Fabulous is very eager to drive you home.” She giggled and couldn’t help noticing him at the bar, watching the two vigilantly. “How about that: You take me home and THEN you can still go to Jake’s.” “How cruel of you! That’s the most unromantic thing ever.” Charlotte squinched her eyes. “Don’t you see I’m only trying to force your luck here? He’s obviously crazy about you.” “Right, just never mind. I’m sorry, it’s just, I feel kinda overwhelmed. Enjoy your night, you two!” Charlotte gave his friends a quick smile and turned back to the man who had been waiting for her at the bar. “Seems like we’re good to go.” “Excellent. Just let me grab my jacket.” They walked down the street until they got to a black Mercedes 300SL sports car.. “Here we are.” “No way this is your car!” “Well, seems like I’ve got the keys.”, he said and opened the passenger door, holding it open for her. “This is one of my favourite models.” She stated and let her fingers trail over the passenger’s instrument board. “How do you - I mean, you’re only a trumpet player!” “Yeah but I play the flugelhorn, too.”, the quick-witted musician replied. He quickly closed the door behind her and took a seat behind the wheel. 

It was a rather awkward ride for both of them. Both thought about what to say or how to keep the conversation going but couldn’t come up with anything inventive. And Charlotte felt guilty for her remark about his car, thinking this was the reason he was so quiet. 

They finally reached Charlotte’s house. He got out of the car, walked around and opened the passenger door for her again. He held out his hand to her “Milady?” She put her hand in his and tried to get out of the car as elegant as possible.”Why thank you!” Seeing that he actually wasn’t angry at her gave her some desperately needed  courage. “Alan? I’m sorry about what I said about you owning that car… I didn’t-“ “Don’t you worry about that! Usually I’m pretty good at dishing it out in a joking way, so I have to be able to take it as well.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a look at the house in front of them. “This isn’t your home, is it?”, he asked with a smile. “What? Of course it is.” She looked over her shoulder. “What blew the secret?” “The tricycle at the front door…?” She inhaled sharply. “I mean chances still are you have a sibling at the age of 4.” Charlotte sighed. “I’m so sorry. This got nothing to do with you. My parents think I’m on some kind of girls movie night at Lisa’s. And they prefer staying up until I get home.” “No harm done. I completely understand. I hope to see you again sometime…?” “Sure, I’d like that.”, the girl smiled. “Good night then.” And with that he gave her a kiss on the hand. She couldn’t believe he just did that! What a gentleman! How freakin wholesome! She tried not to show any of her excitement on the outside when he watched her walking to the neighboured house and disappearing through the front door.

Chapter I 

#Alan Rubin x Reader #Alan Rubin x fem!Reader #blues brothers fandom #blues brothers #blues brothers fanfiction #Mr.Fabulous

[ghostmartyr]

how a life can move from the darkness [7/?]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Summary: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their  living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn  found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery.  Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

Eren’s first thought was that something was wrong with his taste buds.

He took another bite.

Light and fluffy, with enough crunch to be satisfying, the cookie melted in his mouth with the chocolate chips it was spotted with. Sugary, somehow warm despite living on a table for an hour, and… good. The cookie tasted good. Even with the small scorch marks.

“What do you think?”

Petra was hovering. Almost vibrating with how long she’d held the question back.

“They’re… good,” Eren said. “Really good. What did you do?”

Petra’s face flushed with joy, complete with a happy smile that warmed the whole gym like unfiltered sunshine. “I bought new measuring cups.”

Eren grabbed another cookie. “What was wrong with your old ones?”

She grimaced. “I was using my mom’s measuring cups and spoons. She never told me, but she got them from a bargain bin sale because none of them were labeled right. My father came by for a visit and pointed it out.” Petra sighed sadly and snagged a cookie off the plate, but that smile still shone on through. “That’s what I should have opened today with: the wonders of communication.”

“It’s good you got it sorted out.” Eren hadn’t planned on saying anything about it ever, but Historia had stopped taking the cookies after the last week’s made her throw up.

For him, he had the problem of food starting to taste like food again. He wasn’t sure how many more times he could have eaten Petra’s cookies without wanting to rip out his tongue.

Petra held out the entire plate to him. “Consider these your reward for supporting me all this time. No one else here is going to touch them, so you and Historia can take them home with you. Maybe use them as an excuse to drop by those friends you’ve reconnected with. Or that brother of yours,” she added. “He might have a sweet tooth to exploit.”

Eren took the plate and cut off eye contact so he wasn’t actually frowning at Petra. She’d had enough of that from him. “Aren’t you the one who said not to push everything at once? I just started talking to Armin and Mikasa again.” His thumb ran along a chip in the porcelain. “And it isn’t like everything changed anything between me and Zeke. It’s always been like this.”

“That’s not true,” Petra said, and before Eren could point out that she’d never met him so how would she know, she continued. “You used to never bring him up at all. I think you mentioned him five times today. By name.”

Eren hadn’t noticed that.

The corner with its folding table and loud clock he barely heard anymore felt cramped with just him and Petra. Historia was across the gym, suffering through Daz. Him trying to befriend the feral cats who hung out in the same alley his dealer had before their arrest had somehow turned into her problem.

She’d said she was a heroin addict today. Then she sat down and didn’t talk the rest of the hour. Apparently that marked her as accessible.

“It isn’t a recovery thing,” Eren said. Leaving out the shadow of Mikasa that lived in his mind and reminded him that he’d never gone and dealt with the dad part of what happened. People lost parents. Normal, healthy people. They got over it eventually. He didn’t need an extra boost of support just because he’d lost theirs so violently. Thinking he did was how the pills started. “Zeke’s just Zeke.”

Baseball-obsessed, hard to thank, hard to hate, hard to love.

Hard to have a full conversation with.

Their last one had probably been when he was six, and Zeke was explaining what was so great about a game where you spent most of it standing around doing nothing. He’d patted his helmet onto Eren’s head and carried him around the baseball diamond on his shoulders instead of partying with his division champion team.

Dad had offered to drive them. Zeke turned him down.

“You’re never doing nothing. You’re always waiting for the right moment, or creating the right moment. You watch your team and your opponents, and you think about the right pitch to throw, the right out to make—and if you watch them carefully enough, and practice hard enough, when that moment happens, you’re invincible.”

Eren had held on to his big brother’s buzzed head. “Mom says no one’s invincible.”

“Your mother wants you to stop picking fights.” Zeke looked up at him. “If you thought them through a little more carefully, maybe you’d win more.”

Eren remembered sticking out his tongue.

“You can’t win if you don’t fight.”

Years later, Eren glared at the plate he was holding and its chipped rim.

Petra was smiling at him with laughter dancing in her eyes.

“Recovery’s about us, Eren. Not what we did or what we got hooked on. Who we are as people. Just because it never technically broke doesn’t mean you can’t want it fixed.”

Eren didn’t know if he could have asked Mikasa, or Armin. Or Historia, because that answer was obvious and unhelpful. The question was all of the things he never should have let himself turn into, and it curled around his tongue like acid.

But he could ask Petra. He could ask the woman who’d made his mom believe in him a little by giving him the will to stick out every meeting when all he wanted was to burn everything he knew to the ground.

“Don’t you ever get tired of trying to fix things?”

Petra let the laugh out and squeezed Eren’s wrist.

“The secret to that,” Petra said, “is that’s what all those people you’ve already fixed things with are for.”

----

Eren taped a bagged cookie to Zeke’s apartment door.

An hour later, he had a text.

Outsides were a little scorched. You shouldn’t leave them in that long.

---

they weren’t even my cookies. i didn’t cook them, petra did.

what does he know about scorched

the first ones she made tasted like charcoal briquettes

these were so much better

like food

but go off i guess

In retrospect, spitting out a bunch of angry texts during Mikasa’s class hours and expecting it to help wasn’t the smartest thing Eren could have done. When his phone finally told him she saw them, he could practically hear the concerned silence reaching out his way and asking if someone needed to call someone for him.

I’m not on drugs, Eren clarified. Slightly less annoyed and remembering that Mikasa wasn’t used to non sequitur rants. Usually Armin got those. Because usually they weren’t about Zeke.

Mikasa finally type a response. I believe you.

Zeke’s just an asshole

               Yes.

petra worked hard on those cookies she bought new measuring cups

[…] […] Who is Petra?

friend

               Why did you give Zeke one of her cookies?

it was supposed to be therapeutic

               Oh.

Eren had known Mikasa for enough years to see her eyes tracking back to the beginning of the conversation and to know she was hearing all his words in exactly the intonation he’d stamped them out with. That was why he usually texted Armin. Armin’s judgment was in quiet sighs that passed quickly. Mikasa’s stuck around with the reminder that some people had no problem being their best self every second of every day.

               […]                I have time. If there are any cookies left, I could come over and take some for myself and Armin.

No offer of Eren coming over to their place, which used to be his place. He didn’t know if the tightness in his chest was frustration or gratitude.

really?

               Yes.                Your friend’s efforts should be appreciated.

[…] thanks i’ll let her know you love them

A grand total of one personal growth point coming from trying to reach out to Zeke, and it came from bonding with someone else over how badly it was going. Eren held his phone to his forehead and did the breathing exercises that didn’t work.

At least Petra had been right about the secret trick to it. Even if it wasn’t much of a secret. Eren’s friends had always been better than him at getting him out of the holes he dug himself.

----

“Is that real?”

“Pinch me, right?”

“No, I mean is that…”

“Yeah.”

“She’s…”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know she could do that.”

“You’re both assholes,” Ymir said. Doing nothing to change the surreal scene playing out in front of them. Her comment barely touched it. She was still bent over her bike, water bottle still held by nothing but her teeth, phone still in her hands, smiling. Genuinely. Not smirking. Not snarling or cackling or leering. Smiling.

It was one of the most unnerving things Eren had ever seen.

That covered a lot of ground.

“I thought… She’s fighting with Historia?” Eren asked.

He’d called for a break, and the first thing Ymir did after vaulting off her bike and pulling at her phone at the speed of sound was announce to the entire trail, “Eren, your jackass roommate just called me unromantic and shallow.”

Reiner was grinning like a maniac. For a guy who’d almost fallen over getting off his bike, he looked downright perky. Eren had worried he’d pushed things too far, but the bounce in his step when he flipped his water into his hands said otherwise. “She is.”

“But she’s smiling.”

“Yeah.”

“She looks happy.”

“She does.”

Someone Reiner’s size shouldn’t have been capable of giggling, but Ymir was already breaking Eren’s sense of reality. Reiner joining in wasn’t that different, and at least Reiner looking happy was something Eren could appreciate well enough for it to spread.

“What about Historia?” Reiner asked, letting his voice carry with a more direct grin at Eren. “How does her side of the fighting go?”

Eren had trouble thinking about the ongoing argument seriously without remembering tears and track marks. He couldn’t see the lighthearted moment staying if he brought that up. Ymir helped him out for once and didn’t rise to the bait. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of water by bending her entire head back instead of sparing a hand from her phone. “Historia? That’s really her name? Who hates their kid that much?”

Moment ruined anyway. “Don’t message her that,” Eren said sharply.

Ymir’s fingers had been waiting, not typing, but they stopped anyway. Her responding look saw through Eren and any past lives he or anyone in his general vicinity had lived, and Eren hated to admit it but he liked the smile more. He glared steadily back.

Her eyebrow quirked up. She tilted her head back for another drink. “Someday,” she said, “I’ll meet drug addicts who don’t have parental problems.”

“Eren likes his mom,” Reiner said, impervious to the tone shift.

“Sometimes.”

When he’d gone over to the house for dinner, she’d told him his hair was getting too long, and he should do something about it if he planned on running around so much.

“Now watch him not ask about the other times,” Ymir said.

Eren’s hackles rose. “There’s nothing wrong with my mom,” he said. “She’s the best.”

Ymir rolled her eyes so hard they practically landed in the back of her skull, and Eren didn’t know what was going to come out of her mouth next, but he’d probably want to punch her for it, and he needed to find somewhere safe for his helmet if that was how this was going to play—but they were both interrupted.

Her phone buzzed again, and the bizarre, reality-melting snap of joy that flashed over her face made Eren feel weirdly guilty about imagining what it would look like with a bloody nose.

He flopped his damp hair out of his eyes and slumped over his bike, watching a bird hop along the trail in front of them with a deep scowl that was fake enough to only make it through the third hop and the bird pecking at a piece of bread larger than its head.

That was a kind of happiness he could get. Hunger and feasting on things he wasn’t supposed to.

Eren swiped away more of his hair and looked down at the ground underneath his feet instead.

Reiner’s feet, done stretching, padded over the dirt, and his massive shoulder nudged Eren’s.

“You work at Steady Rock, right?”

Eren glanced up, because topic changes with Reiner felt safer with eye contact. “Yeah?”

“We got our hands on some coupons and wanted to know if it’s cool if we drop by during one of your shifts,” Reiner said, leaning further into Eren’s personal space than he was used to when they had somewhere larger than a cell to roam around in. “My little cousin is really into climbing right now, and she’s coming out for a visit in a few months. Scouting out places that might keep her attention is a pretty high priority before she gets here.”

Eren asked the obvious question. “Your family’s letting you watch her?”

Reiner didn’t quite look at him, and Eren wasn’t enough of a bastard to force it. “Her parents are coming along,” he said. “We’re only getting a few hours with her. But we want to show her a good time, you know? Convince them to let her back.”

Eren had spent every moment at work since Hannes’ latest discount series wondering how hard it was not to spend forty minutes of a promised hour falling off things and screaming about it, but Reiner would at least let him get a word in before he sped up a wall and got stuck. He snapped his helmet back on and shrugged. “Customers are customers,” he said.

Reiner chuckled. “Yeah, just… you know.” He cleared his throat and the next words sounded like they came out of one of the countless recovery books they’d both been forced through before their release. “Trying to respect your boundaries.”

They both looked Ymir’s way. She didn’t snipe anything back, too busy glowing.

Eren checked his watch to see how close to ending their break time was, pausing when he saw the clock over the running timer. He looked back up at Ymir, and the glint in her eye that said whatever was putting it there was ongoing.

“Time to head out?” Reiner asked.

It was a little early, but Reiner was breathing easily, and hadn’t gone after his water like the ravenous wolf he’d started out on these expeditions. “Yeah,” Eren said, one more quick, curious frown at his watch before Reiner called out to Ymir to cut her flirting short.

Weird.

He’d figured bad weird, since neither of them really knew how to talk to people and their starting point was all the yelling Eren wasn’t supposed to do anymore.

He slipped out his phone for a fast text, then put it away and got back to work, a little spark of okay beating out the worry and lightening his pedals.

----

i can’t text you during class, but ‘melancholic genius’ crystal wick can?

She doesn’t have my number. […] She was using Twitter.

----

It wasn’t because of what Ymir said.

Not really.

He would have done it anyway, eventually. She just brought it up when he was stable enough to do something with the reminder instead of stew in sad, guilty feelings that planted visions of pills in his head.

Eren scuffed his shoes on the welcome mat.

“The Doctor is Out,” it read, a sad smiley from a waiting room pain scale next to it, “But You Can Come In!”

Zeke had bought it. Eren had whined about how much time their dad spent at the office. The next day, it was on the doorstep, and his mom was telling his dad that they’d get rid of it when it stopped being accurate. Eren had said that wasn’t right, because they never told the people who knocked on their door to come in.

His mom never got rid of it, and it was back to being accurate. The doctor was out.

Before Eren could drown himself too deeply in that and why the mat wasn’t there when he came over for dinner, his mother opened the door.

“Eren,” she said. “This is a surprise.”

She looked worried behind her welcoming smile, but the kind of worried that made him want to stomp off and find a mud puddle to splash in out of spite. That kind of worry he could handle, even if it always ended with her trapping him in the laundry room and explaining how to get stains out of his clothes.

Eren rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Sorry. I can call ahead next time.” His shoes crunched over the welcome mat. “I didn’t know if I had to. I still have my key and I’m not here to…” He sucked at this. Worse than any text to Historia about which chart smiley she’d pick out for her mood of the day. His ears hurt listening to himself.

“I thought I’d patch up my bedroom,” he said. “I was going to do it even if you weren’t here, so I didn’t call.”

His mom raised her eyebrows at him. “You never need a reason to call your mother, Eren.” Before the barb sunk in enough for Eren to come up with a retort, she swung the front door the rest of the way open. “Did you bring tools with you, or are you borrowing?”

Eren followed in, the bag he’d brought along swinging from his shoulder. “Borrowing for anything that needs paint. I thought I’d use what’s left in the garage for that.”

“And this isn’t going to be like the last time you tried to fix the house by yourself?”

Eren’s ears and the rest of him went a very fine red.

He and Armin had lost an action figure down a sink. They knew if Zeke wasn’t the one watching them, there wasn’t a good chance of anyone deciding that the toy’s fate was anything but sealed, so turning up the volume on the movie that had inspired the soldier’s sink dive, they’d searched the house for a saw to crack open the pipe they were sure it was stuck in.

Eren could still feel the weight of his soaked t-shirt as he tried to hide Armin behind him in the puddle they’d created, his mom’s hurried footsteps rushing down the stairs at their yelps of surprise.

The main puddle showed up because they’d tried to fix the first without anyone noticing. Armin had slipped and almost hit his head when he had the idea that they could probably find instructions in a book somewhere, and if they were really fast…

They weren’t fast, and they weren’t quiet, and Eren’s mom had rolled in like thunder.

“Never,” she had said, holding him by the chin while his wrench clattered to the floor and the pipe kept spewing water all over the three of them. “Eren you listen to me. You are never to use tools like this by yourself. You find me, or your father, and if something needs to happen, we will use them, or show you how. You never try something like this on your own.”

Most of his parents’ ‘nevers’ didn’t last long. Loopholes or exceptions followed Eren around like weeds.

That one stuck. For Armin. The first time they’d had a problem in their apartment, they’d called home, just to double-check, before getting to work. It stuck worse when Eren’s mother snatched the phone from his father, who’d picked up, and told them to talk to their landlord before they took another step.

Which had come up before she shouted it into their ears. But then they’d had diagrams, and measuring tape, and Mikasa loaned them a hammer, and they could probably fix it by themselves.

The landlord hadn’t agreed.

Walls weren’t so hard, though. Patch jobs were one of the first home improvement lessons Eren’s dad put him through. He’d thought the house could use fewer holes, and taught Eren early. Eren could tackle walls alone. Even if they were his, and he had to walk by a closed door that made his heartbeat hit deafening and his breathing fall short to get to them.

Five minutes in, standing in the gaping mausoleum of a room that didn’t have any of his stuff but had scars all over, Eren wasn’t alone.

His mother, recently changed into what she called her work clothes, entered the room and went for the spackle.

“Mom,” Eren said. “What are you doing?”

“Putting my house back together,” she said.

“It’s my room.”

“You don’t live here anymore.”

“Yeah, but it’s my room. My—” damage. Everywhere. The holes from the fist he’d put through the wall, the hole from Zeke’s baseball going through the wall, the cracks from all those holes spiraling out and trying to link together, the tiny bits of plaster on the floor… Eren had stopped remembering his room had ever looked another way, but he knew those things weren’t supposed to be there. That was why he was patching them up.

His mother didn’t seem concerned with any of the emotional progress being waged. “I have a right to participate in my own household chores, Eren,” she said.

“You haven’t done anything about this for months,” Eren said. “You left it out for me to clean up.”

“Because,” she approached a crack by Eren’s elbow that hadn’t come from a punch, just a bad nightmare that felt like it cracked his skull just as badly, “any man I raised should expect to have to come back and clean up his messes.”

She ran her fingers over the mark before taking her putty knife to it. When she looked up at him, Eren realized he’d stopped working to stare. He realized it a second too late to escape the nudge of her hand on his arm, prodding him along.

“I did think you’d be along sooner,” she continued. “Am I that far down your list?”

Eren’s face burned.

He could feel her smiling next to him, and he wasn’t surprised when the next nudge was his mother reaching up to tweak his ear. “Or,” she continued, “am I not on your list because I’m your mother, and you don’t think you have to apologize to me?”

“I know you like apologies,” Eren said defensively.

“And I know how much you love giving them to me,” she said.

The rebuke was as gentle as she bothered with, but it still stung. Eren’s hands stopped again, and he stared into the wall, the crack he’d have to tend after the hole acting like a window into a whole different dimension. One where the only reason he knew he saw his mother that day was because he could remember shouting at her.

“Mom,” he started, all the good intentions and work ethic bleeding out into guilt. “I really—I...”

The words felt as hollow as his room did without pieces of him taking up the space.

“Fix the walls,” his mother instructed. “Then you can stay for dinner and tell me how Armin and Mikasa are doing. They stop by even less often than you do. Or that roommate of yours; we’ve hardly spoken. Frieda seems to be the only one of any of you who can remember her social niceties.”

“Mom.”

----

Petra would tell him that there was nothing wrong with starting out easy.

He didn’t know where to start with his brother? Mother was in the same ballpark, and as long as he kept taking steps forward, he’d get to where he needed to be in the end. There wasn’t anything wrong with baby steps.

There was maybe something wrong with thinking of his mother as one. He’d never been a great son.

Eren, stinking of paint and supposed to be going to wash off before dinner, was stuck in front of the closed door marking the center of the upstairs hallway. The midway point between Eren’s room and his parents’. The office.

Otherwise known as the gateway to most of Eren’s fits when he was younger.

“But why. Dad has two rooms I can’t go in, why does he get two?”

At the funeral after-party, the door had been open. No one had bothered closing it after his dad changed his mind and agreed to come along to the MMA tournament finals. Eren had told him he needed to see it, because he was going to come in first place for the first time, and maybe after he could talk to Mom and change her mind about how rough it was because it wasn’t really that bad…

His dad was the one who decided if the door was open or shut. He’d left in a hurry, so he wouldn’t be late. So the day of the funeral, it was open.

Eren had slammed it shut with his crutches.

Baby steps. Closing up walls. Cutting off some of Ymir’s ammunition.

Eren watched his spackled, paint-covered hand reach out and turn the doorknob.

On slow feet, he took a step in.

He immediately wanted to step back out. The blinds were drawn. They were thick, wooden shades designed to tell the sun its service was not wanted, and the entire room was plunged into night despite it being the middle of the day. Light from the downstairs windows was still bouncing its way upstairs.

None of it touched the office.

It smelled like dust. Eren could feel his shoes leaving prints in the carpet.

He’d never been allowed inside without his father’s permission, so by the time he was five, he knew the ins and outs of the room better than any other place in the house. He knew before he could reach which certificate on the wall stood for which achievement, even with every inch being covered. Whenever his dad received an award, Eren would talk him through which spot of the office had the most room to put it in.

Armin had hidden under the desk with him. Hide and seek. They were willing to risk it when Zeke was sitting for them. Then he’d turned that back on them and found them the second after he was done counting.

Eren wouldn’t fit under the desk anymore. It was big enough for one man and the work in front of him. Plus the piles on either side. There wasn’t much extra space. The picture frames on it were pushed all the way to the edge of the wood.

It might have fitted more if the back of the desk was against the wall, but his dad had liked it in the middle of the room, his chair facing the doorway. Eren had figured out, staying up late and listening to all the different footsteps in the house, that he liked it that way so he could stand up and pace in front of the window.

Baby steps.

Eren breathed in through his nose, exhaling slowly. His legs wobbled like they were trying to go back to the last time he’d entered the room. He was, but not like that.

In, out, dinner.

He passed the desk and went over to the corner, where the largest filing cabinet in the room stood. Without stopping to think about it, he dropped to the floor, cobwebs and dust joining the paint. If it was the other way around he’d have to come back and wash the floors.

Back in the far corner of the shadows, there wasn’t enough light for anything to glint back at him, but he’d always had what his mother called an overactive imagination. Nothing close to Armin’s. That defense had never worked.

He reached his hand into the dark and flicked off whatever bug tried to latch onto his fingers, groping around until his palm connected with a piece of cold, round metal.

Eren almost yanked his hand back out without collecting it. A flinch wracked his body like a shiver.

He grabbed it, and pulled his arm back into his chest, the rapid thump of his heart covering up all of the other sensations that came with it. His forehead was clammy, bangs sticking to it like glue.

He stayed on the floor for a few more minutes than he meant to.

Long enough for his ears to catch a different thump.

The lamp in the opposite corner of the room flicked on, and after an aborted pause that Eren could feel, his mother stepped over the threshold.

“Eren? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” he lied, into the dusty carpet.

She sighed, but didn’t walk any closer. The floorboards creaked under her stationary feet. Eren’s fist clenched around the object in his hand, and he made himself push his body back up, taking a string of cobweb up with him and blinking under the new light.

His mother did step forward when she caught sight of the new collection of dust all over his clothes. “Eren.”

“I already had to change,” he said.

She shook her head and pulled a dust bunny out of his hair. “You really do need to get it cut.”

Eren would blame the environment for why the only thing that he could think to say, and successfully made it out of his mouth, was, “Dad had long hair.”

She fixed him with a look that he had spent his entire childhood rebelling against. “Yes, and your father took care of his,” she said, coaxing strands of his hair apart with the tips of her fingers. “If you don’t know what to do with it, having more is always a mistake. All that exercise you do; doesn’t it get into your eyes?”

Eren crossed his arms and avoided eye contact. Longer bangs helped.

Only the angle he put his head at meant he was staring straight at the photos his father kept on his desk.

The dust blurred the images, but he didn’t have any problem recognizing the candid shot Mikasa had taken at graduation. Of him and Zeke grinning at each other, the summer sun beating down on both of them while Eren wielded his diploma like a relay baton.

Eren’s folded arms fell to his sides, the cold weight in one starting to feel hot enough to burn.

“I wasn’t going to stay in here,” he said. The words rang. He fumbled his grip and held the object out to his mother. “I wanted to grab this. In case you wanted it.”

His mother, full of smiles and competence for him all day, froze. She didn’t need any of the seconds Eren had when he’d raged into the room and found it waiting on the desk. She recognized the polished shine instantly. The watch she’d given her husband for their twentieth anniversary.

The one he’d died wearing, while his son listened to the ticking clock and stopped trying to be sane.

The one his son had picked up and thrown into a dark place no one would ever think to look.

His mom’s hands shook, taking it out of Eren’s hands. He didn’t think she saw the cracks in its face. She couldn’t know to imagine the blood entangling its joints. She just took up the watch, and held it the same way she’d held it out to Eren when she picked it up from the store. Asking for his opinion while Eren shrugged and told her to bother Mikasa with stuff like that, it looked fine.

“It was already broken,” Eren said. “From the accident. I didn’t help, but… it stopped working in…”

She looked away from the watch and up at his face. Eren bit the inside of his jaw, staring at the picture of him and Zeke and thinking about how hot that day had been and how no one except Armin had been interested in a color that wasn’t black for their robes.

Then he wasn’t staring at the picture, because his mother’s hair was in the way, and her arms were wrapped around him. She tugged his head down to meet her shoulder, and she smelled like sweat and paint and mom.

The tears couldn’t make it past his choked throat.

“I told Frieda I couldn’t even miss him,” Eren whispered. “I was too busy thinking about myself.”

His mother’s soft laughter buzzed his ear. “You got that from him.”

Eren would have pulled away if that didn’t mean leaving the hug. He didn’t think he was strong enough to ask for another. “What?”

She laughed again, kissing the side of his head and rocking him slowly back and forth. “Your father,” she said, “was a passionate, driven man, and he’d get so caught up in what he was doing I sometimes think if he didn’t sleep better in his bed he’d never have come home at all. It was always the next step, with no reason to look back.” Her head turned towards the desk. “That’s why he never made things right with your brother. He thought he failed so badly, there was no reason to repeat it all. Instead he tried to move forward with the damaged parts they had left, and…”

She sighed so heavily Eren wished he’d been the one to start hugging her. She pulled away slightly, tenderly smoothing back his hair and curling it around his ears. “I like to think we both had a part in raising that out of you, no matter how little you enjoy apologizing to your mother.”

“Mom,” he said, “I am so—”

“Eren,” she interrupted. “You have never been an easy child.” She cradled his cheek in her hand. “It is always something, even when you’re supposedly a grown man so far above our responsibility.” She sighed at him again, displacing the glinting tears in her eyes and using her thumb to rub away his. “I can’t say I’m happy with how you chose to be difficult this time, but… your father was a wonderful man, and truth be told, I don’t know how to be without him either.”

Eren fell forward, holding her as tight as he knew how and hiding his eyes in her paint-stained shirt. “…You’re doing better than me,” he mumbled.

“I’m your mother,” she said. “That’s my job.”

[next]

#drug au #fic #mine #long post