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matwith1t · 3 years

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A/N: A part two!! As much as I love angst…I couldn’t leave the first part like that 🥴 You don’t have to read the first part to understand this fic, but you’ll definitely catch some little call backs!! If you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it all!! I hope you’re all having a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening !

Summary: Nearly a year since the break up with Mat, your life slowly started to revert back to life before him. But all of that progress goes away when you keep crossing paths.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: swearing, drinking // WC: 15K // Angst & Fluff

With the sun shining down, and no clouds in the sky to cover up its hard rays, it felt a bit warmer than the usual October day in New York. It was neither an excruciating humid day like the summers, nor a brutally frigid winter day. It just felt…average. But something in the air made the average day feel abnormal.

Maybe forgetting to set your alarm, and rushing to get ready, had something to do with why you felt on edge. Or maybe it had something to do with finding a crinkled polaroid picture of you and Mat––him laughing and you looking up at him––that you found in your sock drawer last night.

Maybe it was the picture.

But you definitely knew your sour mood could be traced back to this morning––seven minutes ago to be exact––when you ordered a coffee and the barista informed you that they were out of an ingredient for the drink you wanted.

“It’s not that bad,” your friend, Kennady, came up to stand beside you after she finished ordering her drink, “Worse things could happen.”

With a deep breath through your nose, you crossed your arms over your chest, “I know…”

And you knew things could be worse. There had been days in the past ten months that were definitely worse than a coffee shop being out of an ingredient to send you into a spiral. But this minute detail in the beginning of your day felt too mundane compared to everything you had felt in the past. And for some reason, it bothered you more than it should have.

Was it a sign that you were getting over him?

With a quiet laugh to yourself and a slight shake of your head at that thought, you quickly buried the idea. Not a chance, you thought to yourself.

When a barista called out your name for your americano, you politely excused yourself around other customers until you got to the counter. With a tight smile, and a small thanks, you picked up your coffee and went over to a little station where you could fix the drink to your liking.

You were in the middle of opening a sugar packet when you heard someone questionably call out your name.

It was an accent you hadn’t heard in quite sometime…A friendly French-Canadian accent that always reassured you of Mat’s feelings whenever he wasn’t in the room. After all, it’s what any best friend would do.

Not expecting to run into anyone during your little outing, your hand jerked back in surprise––sugar flying out of the packet––as you spun around in shock.

“Oh, I––Wow, Tito––I’m so sorry,” you tried to laugh, tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as you met his blue eyes, but you hadn’t seen him––or a picture of him––since you unfollowed him on every social media platform you had him on.

Like every time you found yourself in his presence, he smiled, “Don’t worry about it, really,” he brushed off the sugar from his sweatshirt, “Shouldn't have snuck up on you.”

You shook your head and waved him off, a ball of anxiety slowly brewing in the pit of your stomach. Because you knew if Tito was here, then Mat would be too. The two of them always traveled in a pair; you learned that they were a package deal early on in your relationship. And you could pray all you wanted that Tito was on a solo coffee run, but by his freshly showered look and Islanders athletic wear…You knew he had just come from a practice.

“It’s okay,” you closed the lid on your americano, forgetting all about adding sugar or creamer in it, “How’re you?”

“I’ve been good,” He smiled, eyes glancing down to your foot tapping against the hardwood floor, “Yeah, just busy playing a lot of…Hockey.” His voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, as if he thought hockey might still be a sore spot for you.

And in a way, it was.

Tito cleared his throat, “And you?” He politely turned the question to you, “How…How’s the job?”

Relieved he didn’t ask you how you’ve been, you smiled softly, “It’s really great, I’ve had a lot more time to concentrate on it.” You looked over his shoulder to see if you could see Mat anywhere in the coffee shop, “I’ve been given more responsibilities.”

“That’s great to hear,” Tito sounded genuine, “I don’t want to hold you up, but it was really great to see you.”

Tito had always been very emotionally intelligent with identifying others feelings, and you had no doubt he picked up on your uneasiness.

You offered him a smile, “It was good to see––“

“Did you grab my coffee?”

The smile dropped from your face and instead of feeling the anxiety in your stomach churn, you felt nauseous.

Tito looked at Mat with the same hung open mouth and wide eyes that you had. Mat came up next to him so nonchalantly––so casually––as if he didn’t know he was in front of the person whose heart he knowingly wrecked nearly a year ago.

Still unable to form a sentence, Tito’s eyes briefly glanced over at you, standing frozen, “Yeah I––yeah.”

As if Mat sensed some tension in the air, he followed Tito’s vision. He had to do a double take, seemingly not trusting his vision that you were right in front of him. And in an instant, just like you and Tito, his eyes slightly widened and his mouth hung open. You knew that he was thinking the same thing as you…that you had gone nearly ten months of living in the same city and had not run into each other once.

But now that streak was broken.

Your breathing stopped as you looked at him for the first time since that unfortunate day in December where the air felt a little colder than the rest of the month.

As usual during the season, he was clean shaven, but you saw a few small pimples littered on his chin. He looked more tired than usual, but had a slight glow to his skin from a recent shower. The ends of his hair flicked out under his baseball hat, just above his ear. You always used to tell him how cute those flecks of hair looked as he tried to push them behind his ear.

But the one thing that made your heart shatter was the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was the navy blue Islanders sweatshirt from a few seasons ago that you had found stuffed away in the back of your closet last year.

The one you broke down into as your mother held you.

The one that Kennady took away when she saw that you still held on to it after you said you’d donate it. It caused quite the argument between the two of you…You wanted to keep the sweatshirt because––while it was delusional for you to think––maybe Mat would notice it was missing, then he would reach out, and you would talk again. Kennady didn’t think that was very healthy and said she would pass it along to Tito.

And pass it along she had.

With a shaky breath, and one last look at the man who you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with, you spun around with your coffee and walked away.

You had only gotten a few steps away when you felt a burning hand catch onto your elbow, “Y/N…”

His hand hadn’t left your elbow, and you stood stiff in the middle of the coffee shop,“I have somewhere to be,” you said to him without turning around.

“Can we talk?”

His voice was barely audible––a plea––a whisper that should’ve easily been lost in the chaos of the coffee shop, but whenever he was around, all you did was solely pay attention to him.

You gulped, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Not here,” he was quick to follow up, knowing he shouldn’t be this lucky to get this much time with you, “I just––I want––How’re you?”

With an irritated sigh through your nostrils, and clenched jaw, you spun around to face him. Half of you melted at his wide and pleading eyes, a mix of uncertainty and care, but the other half of you wanted to leave him standing alone without an answer; much like he did with you when he broke your heart.

“Do you need something?”

He looked taken aback by your bluntness, “I…” Nervously, he took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, “I scored a hat trick last week.”

You despised the way your heart fluttered with pride at his accomplishment.

Instead of focusing on the unconventional feeling of your heart soaring with pride, but simultaneously feeling crushed in his presence, you tried your best to respond with a monotone voice.

“So, a start to a good season?”

Again, he looked confused at your short phrases and general disinterest in what he had to say, “We…Yeah, looks like a good season. Last season was good too..” His eyes briefly left yours to look at your slightly shaking hand that was holding the coffee cup, “Did you…Have you caught any games?”

“I don’t watch hockey anymore.”

Unlike his sentences that wavered with doubt, your sentences were sharp and unremorseful.

But you knew your stoic demeanor came closer to breaking with every second you stood in front of him. It had been ten months since the break up, you should be fine, you kept telling yourself. But seeing him and not being able to mutter an inside joke under your breath and hear him gently laugh, not being able to reach across the inches between you two and give his hand a squeeze, and not being able to muster up the smallest of smiles in front of the one person who could coax a smile out of you with just their presence…You felt the exhaustion catch up to you.

And like everyone else who asked if you watched any hockey lately, he looked stunned at your answer. Because when you were together, you never missed a game. While you weren’t always physically at a game; you either kept up with it by following social media updates, watching it on television, or listening to the radio broadcasts of the game while walking to the subway or in a cab.

“You…You don’t watch hockey?”

You could’ve given him the long answer. How you unfollowed everyone and everything related to Islanders hockey, blocked every variation of the Islanders team name from social media to keep any news from popping up, muted his name on Twitter, deleted the NHL app, and if you were at a restaurant with friends and a television had a hockey game on, you always requested to sit at the furthest table away from the game.

Instead, you shook your head, “No.”

The longer you stood in front of him, the more you felt your composure slip. You didn't like feeling out of control of a situation, and standing so close to him only reminded you of what you didn’t have anymore.

“I have to go.”

But again, he took a step forward and tried to stop you from leaving, “Please, can we just––”

If only he had fought this hard ten months ago to keep your relationship alive; you wouldn’t be running away and he wouldn’t be begging for a basic conversation.

You could feel the tears well up behind your eyes and the familiar sting as you shrugged off his touch, “Mat, I really can’t do this right now––”

“It doesn’t have to be now––”

“Mathew,” Kennady’s harsh voice ripped through Mat’s desperate one.

His arm fell to his side, accepting defeat, as he kept his pleading eyes on your frame, “Ken, hey––”

“We’re late for something,” she took the shaking coffee cup from your hand and looped an arm around your bicep, “We’re leaving.”

And with her direct tone, and guidance of turning you around to exit the coffee shop, she kept a strong hold on your arm for support. Your breathing became more irregular, because out of all the coffee shops in the area, how did you manage to run into him. Maybe you were meant to run into him…Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling you that maybe you should talk to him.

“Don’t turn around,” Kennady whispered in your ear as you came up to the door, “I know you want to, but don’t.”

The first tear fell when she opened the door and you so badly wanted to get one last look at him. One more look at the one person you would still love no matter how much time passed. The second tear fell when you were waiting for the light to change at a crosswalk, as Kennady whispered encouraging words. The third tear fell when the two of you made it to a park and sat down on a bench.

She handed your coffee back to you, “You did great,” and gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze, “So great.”

You tried to take a sip of coffee, but your hand shook too much. You tried to swallow down the scratchiness at the back of your throat, but it only came back stronger, “Why…” Another single tear fell as your voice cracked, “Why wouldn’t you let me turn around?”

She offered you a sympathetic smile, “Because I know how much you still love him.”

A small pathetic laugh escaped your lips at her honest answer, and you tried your best to mirror her smile, but it was as everything had just caught up to you. You had felt his comforting touch on you again. Heard his soothing voice again. You were with him again.

With how persistent he was to talk with you, it felt like he wanted to be with you.

The tears welling up in your eyes caused your eyebrows to pull together as you cupped a hand to your mouth and over your nose. Slowly, you leaned your head onto Kennady’s shoulder as she placed a comforting arm around your shoulders that shook slightly.

––––

The next time you saw Mat was another coincidence.

You were in the living room of a house in Garden City, softly chatting with friends in the corner, when a sudden roar of cheers from the front of the house interrupted your conversation. You and your friends laughed it off as more drunk antics of other guests, but then you heard his name.

“The person who absolutely crushed tonight’s game and that we’re forever grateful is an Islander; Mat Barzal!”

More cheers of agreement.

The plastic of the red solo cup in your hand easily cracked under your grip.

Deep breath in, he won’t come into this room…Deep breath out, who does he even know here…Deep breath in, did he come alone…Deep breath out, or was he here with teammates since it was after a game…Deep breath in––Oh my God, Tito just walked in.

He caught your eye immediately, and just like at the coffee shop, his eyes widened along with yours. But unlike the coffee shop, he didn’t come over to greet you. Instead, he offered you a slight nod of his head and turned around on his heel. Vaguely, you heard him speak over the music and talk of the party, but all your ears could pick up was ‘let’s go to the kitchen…’

A sigh of relief passed through your lips as you felt your shoulders relax. The small group you had been part of for the better portion of the night all gave you knowing looks, eyebrows raised high.

“I’m alright,” You took a sip of your drink. None of them looked convinced, Kennady specifically, but you stifled out a laugh before you took another, much longer, sip of your drink, “Really! I’m alright. It’s been over a year…” You gulped and locked eyes with Kennady, “I’m alright.”

She didn’t look convinced, but restarted the previous conversation, diverting the attention away from you.

It was January, three months since you saw Mat at the coffee shop, and you were fine. At least you thought you were capable of not breaking down in front of him. While you still were without much––if any––closure after your relationship ended, seeing him at the coffee shop felt like turning a page. Not necessarily a whole chapter, but just enough to start feeling a little better.

You both lived around the same area and still had a few mutual friends. To think you would never see him ever again would be foolish, so you had to make the best of this situation. Although, part of you hoped not to run into him ever again.

There had been times where you overhead a ‘Barzy’ or a ‘Beau,’ an Islanders chant, or someone complimenting Mat on his goals of the game. But for the most part, it felt as if he wasn’t there. You enjoyed the rest of the night, but a few hours later, his laugh caught your ear and you saw him tilt his head back from your peripheral vision.

You hadn’t even realized he was in the same room.

Progress, you smiled into your red solo cup as you went to take a drink, small steps of progress.

But your tiny smile disappeared when you saw you were all out of alcohol. With a frown, you quietly excused yourself from your group and walked into the kitchen. You waved at people you recognized, and felt great up until this point of the night. With every genuine smile you offered a friend, they returned it with a sympathetic smile, assuming you were overcompensating happiness by being in the same place with your ex-boyfriend.

And in turn, it caused doubts to float through your mind.

Were you really feeling alright being so close in proximity to him? Were you really starting to feel the process of mending your broken heart, or were you lying to yourself? Would you break down if he were to cross paths with him?

Repeating your breathing exercise from earlier, you calmed yourself down as you weaved through more people to get to the kitchen. You weren’t sure if you wanted to have the same drink, or something different, so you stood still for a few moments debating in your head. You were far from coming to a decision, but when you heard a familiar voice say your name, you quickly came to a decision that you needed to be sober.

You spun around and came face to face with Mat.

Unlike the athletic wear you saw him in the last time, he was currently dressed in a white button up shirt tucked into a pair of navy slacks. The top two buttons of his shirt undone, his sleeves cuffed up, and a small wisp of hair rested against the side of his forehead.

You felt your heart erratically beat against your ribcage as you stood in front of him. He looked as if he didn’t expect you to turn around for him, and the two of you stood in silence. His brain failed at forming a thought, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

“You got a haircut.”

Mat’s cheeks went red as he ducked his chin into his chest, letting out a small laugh, “Yeah,” he looked up at you with the faintest of smiles, “I did.”

Silence.

He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “Uh…What’re you drinking?”

Snapping back to reality, and to why you were in the kitchen in the first place, you blinked your eyes a few times, “Water.”

“There’s some––I can, here,” Mat stumbled over his feet, like he did with his words, as he walked past you and to the fridge. You followed him toward the fridge, and watched him lean forward to grab a water from the back. You only had a few seconds to admire his side profile before he stood up straight and uncapped the water bottle for you.

“Thanks,” you uneasily said as you took the water from him, making sure you didn’t brush your fingers against his.

Mat took a deep breath, looked away from you, and ran a hand through his hair. You could now hear your heartbeat in your ears, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

“Can we talk?”

This was exactly why you wanted water.

You took a long sip of water, and watched as Mat anxiously fiddled with his fingers. You brought the bottle away from your lips and offered him a tight lipped smile, “Not now.”

He looked like he wanted to say more; like he wanted to push you to your limits in order to get any type of reaction from you, but he knew that you wouldn’t play into that, especially in public. So he took your words as a cliffhanger––not an outright no––that you would revisit the topic of conversation he wanted to discuss.

But in actuality, you planned to dodge the conversation if he ever brought it up again.

Mat stuffed his hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels, still not knowing how to direct the conversation, even though he was the one who approached you.

As you stood in silence with Mat, little by little, you began to overthink.

It was in a kitchen where you and Mat had first met. You were at a different mutual friend’s house, but it was eerily similar to how you met the first time…talking over drinks. Except this time, there was so much history between the two of you that it was hard to find some common ground to talk about without feeling like you were walking on eggshells.

The first time you met him, you had only heard his name in passing from occasionally tuning into Islanders games or hearing your friends talk about their friend Mat. The conversation flowed easily, laughter was present nearly every minute the two of you talked, and he slowly moved toward you thinking you didn’t notice him trying.

But you noticed everything.

Like now; you noticed there was no conversation, no laughter present, and how Mat leaned slightly away from you. There were too many memories that couldn’t be forgotten. Too many nights where the two of you were at a friends house like this, but would ride home together with fingers intertwined, instead of leaving separately which would happen tonight. Too many nights where there was an extra set of clothes on his bedroom floor that looked like they belonged.

Too many feelings involved.

You wanted to believe that you were strong enough not to break down in front of him again. You wanted to think that you were alright; wanted to think that you weren’t moments away from shutting down and having your heart wrecked all over again. But you didn’t want to leave his presence just yet. You weren’t at your tipping point yet.

“You had a game tonight?”

Mat nodded his head rapidly, taking in any interaction and conversation he could get with you. He seemed to also not want to leave your presence just yet.

“It was a good game,” he easily smiled with a shrug of his shoulders.

You let out a small laugh and rolled your eyes, “Stop being modest,” if you were closer to him, and felt more comfortable, you would’ve shoved his shoulder, “People were cheering your name when you arrived.”

His eyebrows rose with excitement, “You heard all of that?”

“Now tell me how you really played,” you tilted your head back slightly to take a sip of water.

There was a smile toying on your face, but the grin on Mat’s face stretched from ear to ear, “Really fucking good,” he let out a breathy laugh, “I scored twice, had some really nice plays, a couple of assists…” his eyes held a certain gleam to them whenever he talked about hockey, something you never saw even when he talked about you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled, “That’s amazing. Only one short of another hat trick.” Both of you let out a small laugh at the attempt of your joke. There was more silence, and you could tell you were about to hit your tipping point soon, no matter how many times you scolded yourself not to cry, but you spoke up.

“If you keep playing this well I might have to watch a game.”

The way his face lit up was different than anything you had seen before, even with what you saw just seconds ago when he was talking about hockey. There was a difference in the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, his eyebrows arched in an excited way, his smile showcased all of his teeth, and there was a different spark in his eyes.

“Yeah that’s––You should,” he cleared his throat, but still had a grin on his face, “If you watch you’ll have to let me know.”

“I’ll do that––”

“Barzal!”

Both of your attentions were pulled away by the shout of his name. And when you saw that the person who called out his name held up a ping pong ball, and Mat turned his head to look at you with a small smile––one similar to the night you first met, but a little less devilish––you knew that this was your tipping point.

While it would be fun to pretend like you barely knew Mat, partner up with him for beer pong, and relive the moment how your relationship first started…It was too much.

You smiled apologetically, clenching your jaw tight to keep your chin from wobbling, “My sister texted saying she needs a little motivational talk.”

He hid his disappointment well, but you saw that spark in his eyes fade away when he nodded his head in understanding. But he still held a small smile on his face for you, “You were always the best at those.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not trusting yourself with words as memories of you motivating Mat before a game or cheering him up after a hard loss came flooding into your mind. You silently sniffled and picked your water up, “I’ll see you later, Mat.”

“Yeah…” he sounded like he was in a daydream, “See you later.”

You kept your eyes glued to the floor and texted Kennady asking if she could meet you out back, as you weaved through people. This time as you made your way through the crowd, you didn’t smile at anyone.

The first tear fell when you heard someone cheer Mat on by saying he should play basketball instead of hockey. The single tear slowly slid down your cheek as you heard his laughter echo around the house. The second tear fell as you replayed the similarities of the night you first met in your head compared to tonight. Everything almost lined up the same way, everything almost felt like that night.

Except this night…there were less smiles, more silences, and instead of your heart fluttering with butterflies because a boy you thought was cute talked to you at a party, you felt your heart drop down into your stomach like a broken elevator.

Your phone buzzed when your hand reached out to open the back door; Kennady saying she was making her way to you.

And the third tear fell when you turned your head to look back at Mat one last time.

You should’ve known he was already looking at you.

His eyebrows were pinched together in concern, head slightly tilted to the side, as he looked straight at you and mouthed “are you okay?” Sometimes you forgot that he knew you just as well as you knew him. And this moment made it clear to you that he didn’t believe the lie you told to get out of being his beer pong partner.

Your chin wobbled as you tried your best to smile––which you were sure looked more like a grimace––and you mouthed back, “I’m fine.”

You didn’t wait for him to either repeat his question or ditch the game to comfort you. And in a matter of seconds, you were out the door, the cold January air prickled your scorching hot skin, as you saw Kennady already waiting outside.

She looked up from her phone, and when she saw the deep frown on your face and silent tears falling down your cheeks, her shoulders dropped as she opened her arms. Hastily, you made a few long strides over to her and collapsed in her arms. She held you tightly as one hand trailed her finger tips up and down your spine to sooth your quiet cries.

“I––I still love him,” you hiccuped.

“I know.”

––––

January passed slowly as ever, and you didn’t see Mat for the rest of the month.

You tried to watch an Islanders game, but when the camera panned to Mat, and the announcers praised him for how amazing of a season he was having, you shut it off. You had a plan to watch the game, send him a text after, and then maybe it would lead into a conversation…but it was too soon for you. Even after over a year of not seeing him play, it was too soon.

So you tried again in the first week of February. It was an away game, and while Mat rarely ever showed it, you knew from previous experience that he was always more nervous playing those than a home game. And to hold yourself accountable to actually watch the game, you texted Mat a few hours before puck drop.

He never claimed to have any superstitions about looking at his phone before a game, but you knew he always kept it away to lessen distractions. So, after composing a few different variations of a message, you sent a small good luck tonight!! And then set your phone face down on the coffee table.

Your heart was beating more than it should have for just sending a simple text. You felt bile churning in your stomach as you buried your face into your clammy hands. It’s a text message, you scolded yourself, no need to overthink everything. But overthinking was what you did best.

Maybe you shouldn’t have used two exclamation marks. Maybe you should’ve said your name in case he deleted your number. Maybe you shouldn’t have prematurely sent a text message, because what if you couldn’t make it through a whole game? What if your text messed up his pre-game ritual? What if he lied when he told you he wanted to know if you watched a game?

What if he changed his number and didn’t tell you?

But your phone vibrated against the coffee table, snapping you out from your inner-turmoil. And with a deep breath, you flipped it over and saw his contact name: Mathew Barzal.

And from his message, you knew that he knew it was you; Are you watching tonight?!

A small laugh escaped your lips as you sent back a simple, yeah!

Stop using exclamation marks, you scolded yourself.

But before you could overthink the one word you sent him, he responded instantly: Guess I’ll have to step up my game.

You bit your bottom lip to conceal your smile as you typed a message back to him. And for the next half hour, the two of you messaged back and forth about your days, Mat expressed his nervousness, you sent him a little motivational message, and then he said he had to go put his uniform on for warm ups.

There was still some time before puck drop, so you tried your best to busy yourself with tasks. You cleaned the kitchen, made a grocery list, and reorganized the books on your bookshelf. But no matter what you did, your thoughts circled back to Mat. And this time, you didn’t try to block them out, because you came to peace that he would always linger in the back of your mind.

He was there when you put away a mug––one that never rested evenly on a flat surface, due to a chip on the bottom, caused by Mat accidentally dropping it when hot water spilled over the top and burned his hand. There when you made the grocery list––because he would always leave it behind when you two would go to the store together. And there on your bookshelf––when you moved the hockey book he got you for your birthday.

His presence would always be tangled with yours, like a stubborn knot in a necklace that was impossible to disentangle.

You busied yourself by making tea, using the chipped mug, and turned on the game. The players were in their starting positions, and you saw Mat at the face off. Holding your breath, you said a little prayer, because you knew how nervous Mat got during a face off. He always said that he would turn the nerves into excitement to give him adrenaline, but you knew there was a tiny white lie in that.

But you watched the game, with your cup of tea to try and lessen the anxiety you felt, but it was of no use. While Mat was playing a fantastic game; you still cringed when he got smashed into the boards too rough, bounced your leg whenever he had the puck and an opposing defenseman came up on him, and shut one eye when he brought his stick back to shoot a goal.

Sixty minutes of hockey went by excruciatingly slow, but it was worth it, with the Islanders winning by two.

You shut the TV off, placed the mug on its side in the sink, and went to grab your phone off the charger. The game had not even ended fifteen minutes ago but there was a text from a Mathew Barzal on your screen.

With a deep breath, you unlocked your phone and read his message: Did the game meet your standards?

You let out a chuckle as you walked into your room while typing out your message; Nice goal.

The comment was going to inflate his ego, you could picture his wide smile and raised eyebrows in the locker room reading your message. And like how you messaged before the game, it lasted for quite some time; with Mat admitting he was more nervous with you watching, and you reassuring him he played an excellent game. When he finally had to shower, you wished him a safe ride home and he wished you a good night sleep.

While you still tossed and turned under your covers, you managed to get more sleep that night than you had in the last year.

–––

Two weeks later, Mat called you.

It was after a home game, one that the Islanders lost, and a game where Mat wracked up a few penalties. Like every hockey game of his you’d watched since you promised him that one night, he texted you not even fifteen minutes of being off the ice.

Can I call you?

You paced around in the living area of your apartment thinking of what to respond. You wanted to talk to him…You felt ready to talk to him, but there was still some hesitation. The two of you had branched out to texting each other even when there wasn’t a game scheduled, and he had yet to bring up wanting to talk about your relationship again. So part of you had an inkling he would try it over the phone if you agreed. But then there was the other part of you that knew he just wanted cheering up.

To have a little more time to psych yourself up for a phone call with him, you responded: Sure! But why don’t you shower and head home first.

He sent you––sounds good. I’ll call you––And you prepared yourself for Mat to take the fastest shower possible and to maybe break a few traffic laws to get back to his place.

The assumption you made turned out correct, because in just under an hour of Mat officially off the ice, there was an incoming call from a Mathew Barzal.

The phone vibrated in your hand a few times as you breathed in and out. But before his call went to your voicemail, you clicked accept, “Mat…” you started off slowly, “Hey.”

“Hi,” his voice was low as you heard his door shut. Neither one of you said anything, but you heard movements from his end. You heard him put his keys in the bowl by his front door, fling off his shoes, open another door––presumably his bedroom door––and heard the sound of blankets shifting. You imagined he was sitting on his bed, as he let out a deep sigh, “I played like shit.”

“No you didn’t,” your automatic instinct was to reassure him, “Everyone has their off days, it doesn’t mean that you’re a shit player.”

He groaned, and you heard a soft thump. You imagined he fell back on his mattress, staring up at the ceiling, “I just––Some of those calls they made on me––and how I tripped over my skates and ate shit with no one around me?” He let another deep sigh, “It was embarrassing.”

Thankfully, you had done your nighttime routine during the second period intermission. So while you listened to Mat list out all of the things he thought he had done wrong during the game, you slipped under the covers of your own bed.

“And then when I thought I scored a goal, but the puck hit the crossbar, and it came back to hit me in the face––”

“Mat, that’s an honest mistake––”

“But it was embarrassing!” He raised his voice out of irritation. And this time, you knew for a fact he wasn’t irritated with you…He was irritated at hockey, the one thing he loved most in the world. “I swear I could hear people laughing at me. And I just know that the media is going to write how I should be a better player because I was a first round draft pick and with how much money my contract is––”

“Mat,” his sentences were strung along, and you don’t think he took a single breath during his rant, so you cut him off, “You can’t always be a perfect player, but you were a first round pick for a reason. It might not have been the outcome you wanted, you played the best you could tonight.”

“But it wasn’t good enough.”

His negative self talk sounded eerily similar to the thoughts that swirled around your mind after the break up.

“How many other twenty-three year olds do you know that play professional hockey?”

“There’s Beau, Mitch Marner, Carter Hart, Matthew Tkachuk, Tyson––”

“Stop,” you harshly cut him off as you sat up in bed, taking a pillow and hugging it to your chest, “They don’t count because they’re like the one percent of people who make it to the NHL.” You tried to stress your point, “Like you, they’ve trained an insane amount to get where they are. But how many other people do that? And how many people do train for most of their life and still don’t get to play in the league you do?”

He was silent.

“The average twenty-three year old isn’t playing professional hockey,” you shut your eyes, because no matter how great of a hockey player you thought Mat was, he never had the same faith in himself, “The average person isn’t playing professional hockey. Mat, you’re an incredible player; honestly one of the best in the league right now. And it’s not just me saying that to make you feel better, just look at the Islanders stats from before and after you came along.”

Again, he stayed silent.

“You came into this league so young, but so talented. Sure, you still have things to learn, but you’re the best version of yourself you can be right now. And there’s still so much time for you to grow to be an even better player,” you let out a small breath, “It blows my mind how good you are. And some people might talk shit and say you played poorly, but if they were to be on the ice with you?”

You waited to see if he had anything to say, but when he stayed mute, you let out a soft chuckle, “If they––an average person––was on the ice with you they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Mat let out a small laugh, and you imagined that he had one hand covering his eyes as he still laid on his back on top of his duvet, “Thank you.”

Unclenching the pillow you hugged closely to your chest, you slid down your headboard, and made yourself comfortable under the covers. You laid on your side, staring out your window at the same night sky he was under, and whispered, “I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you.”

You imagined he sat up, elbows resting on his knees as he pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger, as his interest piqued, “And how’s that?”

“As someone who’s great at everything they do.”

It was silent on his end. But you expected that with how honest and instantaneous your answer came.

He cleared his throat, “Are you in bed?”

“Yeah,” you answered as you pulled the sheets up under your chin.

“I…” he let out a shaky breath, but whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t say it, “I still have to get ready for bed.”

“I won’t keep you.”

“We…” he started off slowly, and you imagined he stared at the wall in full concentration, and this time, he said half of whatever he wanted to say, “We should do this again.”

A small smile tugged the corners of your lips upward, “Talk?”

“Yeah, um, talk,” he let out a nervous laugh, and you imagined him rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, “On the phone…In person…”

You reciprocated his nervous laughter, but it wasn’t the bad kind of nerves you had felt in your stomach over the last year…this feeling reminded you of the excited nerves you had when you first met him, “You must really need more motivational talks,” you joked with him. But his answer, his honest and instantaneous answer, was not a joke.

“I feel like a better person around you.”

You were the silent one now.

“I’ll let you get to sleep,” his voice was soft and light, yet he sounded like he didn’t want to let you go, “Night, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Mat.”

After he hung up, you imagined he slept with a smile on his face, just like you.

–––

February might be the shortest calendar month in the year, but it felt impossibly long.

Between late night phone calls with Mat after a game and texting whenever you had a free chance at work, your nerves never disappeared. They were a mix of an excited spark with a dash of anxiety that festered in the pit of your stomach, and only intensified when you saw his contact name pop up on your phone. Yet, the more you communicated with him, the more relaxed you felt. Laughter came more easily between you two, awkward pauses were few and far between, and you smiled more.

But part of you was still hesitant that he would leave unexpectedly like he did nearly a year and a half ago.

After phone calls and texts, March was the month you saw Mat in person for the first time since January. It was in a group setting, but it was planned with the intention of seeing each other. It was a group lunch––you sat next to him––and he occasionally knocked his knee against yours. He apologized every time, but you didn’t think his movements were an accident.

March had more group outings, more texts, and a lot more phone calls randomly throughout the day.

April was a little more different.

The spring air sent a chill down your spine as you walked toward the entrance of a sports bar with Kennady and a few other friends. It was another group outing, another pre-planned meeting where you would see Mat. Weaving your way through tables and standing patrons, you finally got to the high rise table your group was at. A mix of average twenty-something year-olds and hockey players; but Mat caught your eye first.

You saw him sitting on the barstool, hands wrapped around his beer glass as his index finger anxiously tapped the sweating glass. While he softly laughed along with friends who boisterously laughed, he didn’t look too enthralled with the conversation around him. But then he picked his head up and saw you.

A wide grin slowly spread across his face as he straightened out his slumped shoulders.

Everyone greeted each other with hugs, while you settled for waving. When people took their seats, coincidentally the only open seat was next to Mat. Easily, you slid in as he slid a drink in front of you.

“When you texted saying you were almost here, I ordered you a drink,” Mat whispered with a small smile, “I hope that’s alright.”

You picked up the glass with a tight lipped smile, “Yeah, of course, thank you,” you took a sip as he let out a nervous breath through his nose. You set the glass down on the table and angled your body in the chair to face him, “How was practice?”

“Got my ass handed to me,” he let out a breathy laugh, head hanging low as he shrugged his shoulders, “It was alright.”

While Mat had played excellent hockey since you started tuning in again, the past few games were rough. He kept missing easy plays, his shots went wide, he talked back to the referees more than usual, and had more penalties called on him. From your phone calls, you knew he felt uneasy––he admitted that to you––but whenever you pressed the topic further, he brushed it under the rug.

His avoidance of communicating his feelings gave you a sense of deja vu.

You picked a french fry off his plate, “You scored a nice goal last game though, surely Barry couldn’t have beaten you down that much.”

“I just need to get out of my head,” his eyes were far off, staring off into the distance over your shoulder. You wanted to press him further, wanted to know what was causing him distress in his head, but he changed the conversation. He completely changed his demeanor with a smile, as he swatted your hand away from his plate, “Stop stealing my fries.”

As a few fries dropped from your hand, you successfully managed to keep hold of a single fry. And with a proud smile, you popped it in your mouth, “You could’ve ordered me fries, but instead you bought me a drink.”

He gently laughed next to you as he inched toward the edge of his seat, his knees knocking against yours. “Sorry.” he lied with a smile he couldn’t contain.

You raised your eyebrows and purposefully knocked your knee against his in retaliation, “No you’re not.”

He picked up a fry and threw it at you.

The night continued as it had, conversing with friends, and also going back into your own little world with Mat. Throughout the evening, while he held steady conversation with people from across the table, he occasionally knocked his knee into yours. And when you bumped him back, a smile stretched across his face as he maintained eye contact with whoever he talked to.

Everything about the night felt easy until the first hiccup happened.

You and Mat were off in your own little world again, facing each other on your barstools, knees knocking against each other, as he talked about an article that reminded him of you.

“I have to send it to you,” he shook his head with laughter, as he scrolled through his phone, “Just by the title I knew I had to show you, but wanted to wait until I saw you in person to see your reaction.”

You felt your stomach flip at his admission. He wanted to see your reaction. And based on how giddy he looked as he searched for the article to text it to you, he thought your reaction would be similar to his. He wanted to see you smile.

Your phone vibrated on the table as it lit up with his contact name; Mathew Barzal.

When you opened your phone, you let out a laugh when you saw the article populate with an image. It was definitely an article you would enjoy, and when you brought your gaze back up to Mat, a smile wide on your face, you noticed his giddy look was gone. It was replaced with a more contemplative look with his eyes locked in on your phone screen.

Your smile slowly faded away as you knocked your knee against his, “What’s up?”

He left you unanswered as he kept his stare on your phone until the screen turned black. He picked his head up to look at you, a frown on his face, “You changed my contact name,” you sat frozen in your seat, “and took away the picture.”

His words registered with you, but all you heard was ringing in your ears.

Because yes, you changed his contact name and removed the picture of him. His name went from just Mat, with a hockey stick emoji, to his full name after the breakup. And his contact picture, one Tito took of him in lounge wear in a hotel room at an away game on the phone––talking to you––with his head tipped back in laughter, was now just MB in a gray circle.

Did he still have your contact name and picture the same in his phone?

“I––”

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged his shoulders and tried his best to smile. But the corners of his lips barely turned upward, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his observation, so you stared at him with your lips slightly parted and eyes wide. Mat tried to show another smile, but his lips just formed a straight line. You wanted to tell him you were sorry; that you had to change those details or else you would cry whenever you looked at your phone. But you didn’t know how to verbalize that without breaking down in front of him as the painful memories of stripping Mat away from your life replayed in your mind.

This was the longest silence you sat in with him since January.

Mat slowly shifted his knees away from yours and as you continued to stare at his side profile. He joined in on a conversation with Tito and someone else, but you had no idea what they were talking about. All you thought about were Mat's forehead creases, his glossy eyes full of despair, and the frown still present on his face.

Reluctantly, you turned away from him and found yourself listening in to a different conversation, but all you could pay attention to was Mat’s slumped posture in your peripheral vision.

An hour later, another round of drinks were bought, and everyone was still having a good time with lots of laughter and smiles present. Except your smile was forced and you couldn’t hear Mat’s laugh.

But then you felt someone knock their knee against yours.

You dropped your vision down and saw Mat’s knee an inch away from yours. Thinking that this time, he knocked his knee against yours on accident, you kept quiet. But then you saw him knock his knee against yours again, with his knee resting against yours for an extra few seconds, you looked up at him.

A small hopeful smile was on Mat’s face.

Mirroring his shy smile, you ducked your chin into your chest as you felt butterflies in your stomach.

You knocked your knee against his.

Both of your smiles brightened, and just when Mat opened his mouth to say something, someone clapped a hand on Mat’s shoulder. He looked surprised at the contact, but when you heard the TV behind your table report on the top hockey highlights of the week––with the announcer commenting on Mathew Barzal’s goal––the table erupted into obnoxious cheers. Mat’s face went beet red as he shied away from the praise his friends offered.

After the rowdiness at the table calmed down, you knocked your knee against Mat’s as he picked up his beer. He raised his eyes up to look at you, a small smile making its way onto his face as he took a sip of his drink. When he placed his glass back on the wooden table, he knocked his knee against yours.

“Why are you acting so shy,” you let out a small laugh, because in all of the time you’d known Mat, he craved the attention and praise that came with being a hockey player.

He shrugged his shoulders, tapping his fingers against the table, “The compliments get to be too much sometimes.”

You shut your eyes tight as you tilted your head back in laughter. And when you opened your eyes, Mat was looking at you with gentle eyes full of fondness, “Stop lying.”

There were still some small laughs coming from you, but when Mat took your statement literally, your laughter ceased.

“I like the compliments more when they come from you,” he said with a serious facial expression, “Your words mean the most to me.”

You looked into his eyes; ones that were full of regret as it looked like he was retracing the steps of how your relationship came to this point. How it went from two people who were so in love with each other, in the most idyllic relationship…to people who painfully avoided each other for nearly a year, people whose voices wavered with skepticism when they spoke to each other, and to people who still loved each other but didn’t know how to reconcile.

Sometimes you thought it would be easier not to know him, in turn that you could forget about the heartbreak he caused you. But that thought was always easily diminished; the love you felt when you were with him were the most joyous moments of your life that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Well…Maybe one thing.

If you could trade those early days of happiness to fall in love with him all over again––and not experience any heartbreak––you would do it in a heartbeat.

Mat cleared his throat, “You don’t…” he offered you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know how I felt.”

With a nod of your head, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt your throat tighten up. To alleviate some of the tension in the air, you took a sip of your drink. And when you tore your eyes away from Mat to look at the table, you saw that the table was empty, save for you and Mat.

You didn’t know the last time just the two of you sat at the same table alone.

“Where did everyone go?” You turned your head to face Mat with a tilt of your head.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I think they’re off getting more drinks.”

You chuckled and faked offense, “And they didn’t ask us what we wanted?”

Again, he shrugged his shoulders, as he turned his head over to look at the bar where everyone stood. When he turned back to look in your eyes, you could see the wheels turning behind his head as he thought.

“We could get our own drinks…” He said slowly, eyes shining full of hope as he leaned in toward you, “Somewhere else…” and the next word he added, voice dangerously low in a whisper, sent more shivers down your spine than the spring breeze, “Alone.”

It wasn’t the first time Mat took your breath away, and without thinking of any possible consequence, you nodded your head once, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at you, the signature grin on his face was contagious as you smiled back, nodding your head even more rapidly. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see where your friends were, and then when he turned back to you, he smirked, “I think we have less than thirty seconds before they come back.”

As if the two of you communicated telepathically, you jumped off the barstools at the same time and walked at a brisk pace toward the doors. Once the two of you were safely outside and at the street corner, both of you doubled over in laughter.

“Did we ditch our friends?” You looked up at Mat who clutched his stomach.

He nodded his head, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Instead of painfully remembering all the times the two of you would duck out early from a party to spend time together, you remembered them with a smile and a laugh.

Once your laughter subsided, you straightened your posture and slid your hands in to your jacket pockets, “Where to?”

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet,” he apologetically smiled, “There are some bars a few blocks down.” He suggested as he raised his wrist to look at his watch. His eyes widened slightly, “Shit, it’s late. We’ll either make it right before last call or miss it entirely.”

You stood in silence as you saw the wheels behind his head turning in thought again. It looked like he had come up with another place to walk to, but he looked uneasy as he suggested it, “There is…another place.”

Your curiosity sounded too hopeful, “Where?”

Mat looked down at his shoes, scuffing them against the pavement, before looking back up at you in uncertainty. He took a deep breath, “My apartment.”

Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

His apartment.

The apartment where you had your last moments as a couple right before he broke up with you. Were you ready to go back? Did you want to go back? Because there was no doubt in your mind that going there would unlock more memories of when you were the happiest with Mat. But if you wanted to progress in anything––in a friendship––with Mat, you needed to get over the little fears you overdramatized in your head.

“We don’t have to,” Mat was quick to backtrack the offer of his apartment, “I know that’s where we––But I––I have drinks there. It’s not a far walk, and we won’t have to worry about getting into a place. But I understand if you don’t want to––”

“Let’s go,” you sucked in a deep breath and nodded your head the same time Mat’s eyes widened with shock, “It’ll be easier.”

“Are you sure?”

You took another deep breath and lied, “Positive.”

Mat didn’t look convinced, but he wasn't going to press you any further. So, with a nod of his head, he gestured toward the way of his apartment like you didn’t already know, “This way.”

The walk to his place wasn’t far at all, in fact, it was most likely closer than any of the bars you would definitely not make it to in time. So his apartment was a safe option as the two of you walked in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but the two of you were replaying the last time you were both in his apartment.

Once you arrived at the building, Mat waved at the doorman––whose eyes brightened at you with recognition––as he hit the up button on the elevator. The ride up was just as silent as the walk to his place, and when you stood in front of the door to his place, your palms began to sweat.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

But you stuck it through, and when Mat unlocked the door and let you in first, a wave of nostalgia hit you like a ton of bricks. Everything was the same, albeit a bit messier, but it felt almost like you were back in a home again.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to come over,” Mat let out a nervous laugh as he walked past you and picked some of his belongings up that were strewn across the floor.

You waved him off, heading over to the living room area, and folded a blanket for him, “Don’t worry about it.”

You heard Mat let out an anxious deep breath as you watched him turn around and head into the kitchen. He seemed just as nervous as you. When he was out of sight, you set the unevenly folded blanket down on the ottoman and walked over to the couch. You sunk down and let out a shaky breath that you had been holding in since you walked through the front door.

You didn’t have much time to dwell in your thoughts, because you heard Mat’s footsteps, and sat up straight on the couch. He came around the other side of the couch with a beer bottle in one hand for him, and then a wine glass and a wine bottle, for you. He set his beer and wine glass down on the coffee table as he took a seat next to you.

“As your bartender for the night,” he sarcastically said as he took the wine opener and screwed it into the cork of the bottle, “I expect a very nice tip for bringing your drink to you.” You laughed at his comment to lighten the mood, but all you could focus on was the way his arms flexed when he twisted the corkscrew around a few times, “I even provided you with a whole bottle of wine just for yourself.”

You let out a small laugh, “Lucky me,” you whispered just as Mat looked up at you through his eyelashes.

He offered you a small smile, and then went back to concentrating on opening the wine. When the corkscrew was in the center of the cork, he pressed his hands down on the miniature levers, and the bottle opened with pop.

He looked up at you with a proud smile and eyebrows raised proudly, “Eh?” He asked you as he poured you a glass, “You should be impressed.”

You snorted, “That you opened a wine bottle?”

“Mhm,” Mat hummed as he handed you the glass. You offered him a smile as a thanks, as he grabbed his beer and rested an arm on the back of the couch, “And that I didn’t spill any of it.”

With a roll of your eyes, you took a sip of wine, as your mind pieced together that you were drinking your favorite type of wine. That led to a flurry of questions in your mind because why––after all this time––would he still keep your favorite bottle of wine at his place?

But Mat asked you about how your presentation at work went before you were able to bring it up.

Much like the time spent at the sports bar earlier, it was all laughter and smiles, except this time you weren’t under the scrutinizing gaze of Kennady or the hesitant glances of Tito. It was just you and Mat, alone in his apartment, as if no time had passed. With every twenty minutes that went by, it felt as if Mat would move a tiny bit closer to you. You didn’t mind at all, and when he was close enough, you knocked your knee against his.

It was well past midnight, and you were still enjoying yourself the same as you did when you first walked in. The bottle of wine was nearly empty; Mat joining in on the wine drinking after he finished his beer.

Everything about the time spent at Mat’s place felt easy until the second hiccup of the night happened.

Mat placed his empty wine glass down on the coffee table and let out a deep breath through his nose. His face looked serious; eyebrows pinched together that caused a crease to form between his eyes, mouth pressed in a straight line, with his eyes firmly concentrated on you. The look made your stomach uneasy, so you finished off the last of your wine, and sat it down next to Mat’s empty glass.

You let out an apprehensive laugh as you leaned your side into the back of the couch, just below where Mat’s hand rested, “What’s on your mind, hockey player?”

With his hand so close to your shoulder, he stretched out his fingers and lightly grazed your shoulder. He gently moved his fingertips along your shoulder blade a few times before he gulped, “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you breathed out as a chill ran down your spine.

Both of your bodies were facing each other as he moved an inch closer to you. While his fingertips withdrew from your shoulder, he knocked his knee against yours. But instead of retracting it like he had done all night, he kept his knee against yours. With another deep breath through his nostrils, he inched closer to you again, his thigh pressing against yours.

You held your breath as you stared into his yearning eyes, and like he was telling you a secret, he whispered, “Sometimes you feel like a stranger.”

Your eyes widened, stunned at his confession. You were at a loss for words, but luckily you didn’t have to respond, because he expounded upon his admission.

“And it…It’s so frustrating,” his voice was low as he maintained eye contact with you; his soft eyes full of longing stared into your wide and timid eyes as his fingertips reached back down to touch your shoulders. But instead of just staying in one place, his fingertips trailed down to your collarbone, “I know how you relax after a stressful day,” his fingers slowly moved to the side of your neck as he let out a soft chuckle, “I know how you organize a closet.” HIs fingers moved painfully slow up your neck, “I know the facial expressions you make when you’re nervous…”

You clenched your jaw, as your breathing hitched, and you slightly tilted your head to the side to give his fingers more room to wander.

Mat traced his fingers along your jawline as he leaned his face closer to you, “I know what makes you happy,” you felt his breath fan against your face as his fingers caressed your cheek, “What pisses you off.” He kept his mouth in a straight line, jaw slightly clenched, as he moved his fingers to the back of your neck, cupping your cheek. He kept quiet, the only noise in the apartment that could be heard was your own heartbeat and Mat’s breathing.

Finally, he rested his forehead against yours as he slightly brushed the tip of his nose against yours. You kept your eyes wide open in anticipation, as Mat closed his eyes for a moment. He let out a shaky breath before slowly opening his eyes to look at you with an amount of adoration you’d never seen before, “How to love you.”

“We’re friends.”

“No we’re not,” his voice was strained with irritation. But this time, the irritation in his voice wasn’t directed at either you or hockey…his irritation was at himself, “All I want is to love you again but you’re so far away.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh and muttered, “You’re a stranger who I know better than anyone else.”

You brushed your nose against his, eyes glancing down at his lips, before looking back into his wistful eyes, “I’m right here.”

With your lips parted and breath shallow; the tone of your voice hinted at what you wanted to come next.

“If I were to kiss you,” Mat’s low voice murmured as he laid out his intentions, “Would you stay?”

“Yes.”

There was no wavering hesitation in your voice, only desire for the person in front of you who you’d spent too much time without. But Mat…Mat blinked a few times as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, staring at you as if he didn’t believe this was real life. The pull you felt toward him was stronger than any pull you felt toward anyone else. There was something in him that made him irresistible, he felt it in you as well, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Eyes closed, Mat pressed his lips against yours, desperate but chaste as you tasted the wine off him, both of you holding yourselves back for each other's sake. He rubbed his lips against yours, urging you to tip your head back. You leaned into his direction as your fingers carefully crept toward his stomach, clutching his shirt into a small fist.

The tip of his tongue peeked out in a quick stripe across your lower lip, and a strangled whimper in the back of your throat involuntarily left your lips. With his nose against your cheek, he took his hand that cupped your cheek, and ran it down your back. His palm and the tips of his fingers gliding across the expanse of your back; feeling every ridge of your spine, every bone, every dip, and every curve.

Ever so slowly, his hand trailed up your back, over your neck, as he cupped your cheek again. He deepened the kiss, tongues meeting with soft strokes, mouths hot with anticipation and need.

You had kissed Mat more times than you could count, but both of your movements were timid. While he had a hand on your cheek, his other hand laid stiff on the couch. And while your hands gripped his shirt, they weren’t physically touching him. There were so many thoughts circling your mind; how you never thought you’d be in this position again with Mat––having him want you again.

That’s when the first tear fell.

It had officially been a year and a half since your break up with Mat. A year and a half since you felt any sort of honest affection from a person. And it had only been about three months since you started to openly communicate with him again. It had taken you longer to watch a hockey game than it took for you to speak to him regularly again; longer to gain the courage to watch him skate in circles with a smile on his face because you knew he was happiest on the ice.

Happier there than he could ever be with you.

You broke away from his kiss with a sniffle.

Mat delicately pecked your lips one last time before pulling away. Your eyes were still shut tight, but you felt his burning stare on your face as his thumb wiped away the single tear from your cheek.

The second tear fell when he repeated the sentence that you didn’t know held any truth.

“You know I’d do anything for you.”

As if you were transported in time, you smelled the April air of two years ago seeping through the open car windows as Mat whispered that promise to you as he kissed your hand. But the other memory…The cruel and poignant memory that overshadowed the good memory of that sentence took over. Instead of the sweet April air, your mind fast forwarded to the month of December where the air was frigid and eliminated your relationship.

You sucked in another deep breath as you opened your eyes to get you out of the headspace of that bitter December day. Mat’s eyes were desperate––silently begging you not to go––as if he knew you were planning an escape.

“I can’t do this,” you dropped your hands from his shirt and moved away from him on the couch.

“Will you ever be ready to do this?” Mat’s voice shook, but he was withstanding from surrendering. You could now see the athlete in him––the dedication he used to train to attain all of his goals––coming out as he fought to mend your relationship, “I want to talk.”

Your hands shook just as bad as your voice, “I can’t.”

For the countless time tonight, Mat let out an irritated breath through his nostrils, “When will you be ready?”

“I don’t know.”

Mat leaned his head against the back of the couch as he rubbed his temples, “Don’t you miss this?” He turned his head to look at you, his bloodshot eyes noticeable in the dim lighting of his living room, “Don’t you miss us?”

“You broke up with me,” you reminded him as you flared your nostrils in annoyance, “You gave up on us.”

“I was confused!” Mat sat up and angled his body toward you as he threw his hands in the air, “I wanted to be with you––Still want to be with you––But something was off and I had to––”

The deja vu of Mat listing off reasons why something in the relationship wasn’t right––and how his judgement convinced himself that getting away from you would solve everything––caused bile to churn in your stomach.

You placed both hands on the cushions as you pushed yourself up, “I’m not doing this again.”

With your back to him, you itched the bridge of your nose as you sniffled away your runny nose. But even with your back to him, you could still hear the desperation and utter heartache behind his wavering voice.

“You told me I would end up alone and unloved,” you heard him inhale a shaky breath, all the confidence from his previous tone of voice gone, as he choked out his next words, “The one person who I love most in the world told me that––The person who I thought loved me––”

“I do––”

“Told me I would be unloved? That not even you could love me again if I didn’t put more effort into the right things?” You spun around on your heel to see a silent path of tears easily falling down his face, “Do you know how much that messed me up?”

“You told me I wasn’t enough,” you counteracted with just as desperate of a voice, “You told me––”

“We just didn’t see each other enough,” Mat’s words continued to cut you like a knife, “But I never said you would end up alone and––”

“Because I don’t want anyone else to love you!” your devastated tone matched his raised voice. His mouth slowly dropped open, “I loved you so much and you tore me apart.” You felt your throat tighten up, but you held back your tears as your voice cracked, “I wanted to be the last person to love you.”

Mat sat in silence on the couch as you stood a few feet away from him. Silences were never common in your relationship, but they were definitely more common now. Coming to terms in your head that he wasn’t going to say anything, you were about to turn around and make your way out of his apartment for the final time.

“Stay,” Mat stood up from the couch. His hand barely raised from his side, as if he wanted to reach out to keep you from leaving him, but his arm stayed stiff at his side, “It’s after two in the morning, I’ll take the couch and you can sleep in my bed.”

“I’m not far from here,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “I can get an Uber.”

“Then I’ll take the Uber with you to your place.”

You let out a deep breath at his persistence, “That’s unnecessary––”

“Believe it or not,” Mat started his sentence out strong, but he took a pause and let his shoulders deflate as his tone softened, “I still really care for you and don’t want you in an Uber alone this late or walking up to your place alone. So please,” you hated the way your heart melted at his words, “Stay.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about his proposal. He had a point…Ubers alone at night in New York wasn’t the most ideal situation in the world. And you knew he would hop in the car with you; he always held your safety high on his priority list.

With a defeated sigh, you nodded your head, “Okay.”

Mat let out a relieved breath, “You can…You know where everything is,” Mat awkwardly rubbed a hand behind his neck, “Everything’s the same.”

Except us, you thought to yourself.

You asked Mat if he had to get anything from his room, but he said he had some stuff stored in the spare bedroom where he would get ready for bed. And for what may be the last time, you wished each other goodnight as the two of you walked to separate ends of his apartment.

You blocked out every memory that swirled around your head as you entered his room and got ready for bed. Everything was going fine until you opened the cabinet under the sink and saw that he still had an unopened bottle of your shampoo that you always kept at his place. But you were done crying. Done crying over Mat. So you closed the cabinet, regretfully changed into one of Mat’s oversized t-shirts for pajamas, and slid under his covers.

With the sheets pulled up right under your chin, you laid on your side in a fetal position, as you stared out his window. There weren’t any stars in the sky, but instead of being in your bed and thinking about what Mat was up to when you couldn’t sleep, all you had to do was walk down the hall.

You tried everything you could to fall asleep, but none of the methods you usually used worked. Even when you stayed in separate bedrooms when Mat met your family for the first time, similarly down the hall from each other, you didn’t have any trouble sleeping like tonight. But back then, you and Mat were together in love. And this time…you and Mat were somehow still in love, but further apart than ever.

Fed up with not being able to get a decent night’s sleep in over a year, you flung the covers off and stepped out of bed, because you knew the cure to your insomnia was just a few feet away. Slowly, you opened the bedroom door and snuck out. You quietly closed the door and made your way to the living area where Mat said he was.

And in a few seconds you saw Mat, whose face was illuminated by his phone from above head as he scrolled. The single blanket he had only came up about halfway to his bare stomach.

As if he sensed another presence in the room, he turned his head. With an empathetic smile, because you imagined he had the same trouble falling asleep in this past year as well, he shut his phone off and placed it on the coffee table. Without a word, he lifted the blanket up, inviting you to sleep next to him.

You crawled in next to him, the side of your face pressed up against the crook of his neck. You let out a silent, uneven, breath as you felt his warmth spread across your body. And when he lowered the blanket, he curled a tight arm around waist, drawing shapes on your back as he held you close to him.

And the third tear fell when Mat pressed a firm kiss to your forehead and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A year and a half of sobbing didn’t compare to the flood gates that opened up in this moment. Your senses were in overdrive, everything screamed Mat, and that one little forehead kiss paired with a simple apology tipped you over the edge. He held you tight as you cried into his chest, taking responsibility for the suffering he had put you through the past year and a half.

One of your arms was tucked under you, but your other arm was stretched across Mat’s chest as you clung to his bicep. Your shoulders violently shook as you muttered incoherent words out through choppy breaths.

You hurt me, you said. I know, he answered.

I never wanted to see you again, you said. I know, he answered.

I missed you so much, you said. I know, he answered.

I still love you, you said. And as your cries began to soften, he cradled you into his chest more as he pressed another gentle kiss to your forehead; I still love you too, he answered.

It was the first night both of you slept soundly through the night, missing all of your alarms.

–––

New York in August was unbearably hot.

Between the larger than life gray skyscrapers and dark concrete that paved the city, the heat of the sun always got trapped in the most unpleasant way. With crowded sidewalks of people pressed shoulder to shoulder, the heat attached itself to sweaty bodies. With sewers that always smelled, but reeked even worse in the summer, the heat attached itself to the polluted water.

But if you paid close enough attention, there was a certain aroma in the air that always drew people into the city. And like how the skyscrapers and concrete trapped the heat in the most unpleasant way, the sweet smell of new beginnings that New York offered trapped people in the same way.

Walking down the sidewalk, with your fingers intertwined with Mat’s, you breathed in the captivating smell of New York.

The smell of new beginnings.

“Are you nervous or is the heat getting to you,” You looked up at Mat’s side profile with a smile as you pointed out his sweaty hand.

With black sunglasses covering his eyes, he kept his head forward as he chewed on his bottom lip, “It’s your family.”

You rolled your eyes as you came to the end of the sidewalk, waiting at the corner for the light to change, “You know them already.”

“Yeah, but––”

His words were cut off when the light changed and a mass amount of people crossed the street. You tugged him along with the crowd, “No buts,” you squeezed his hand, “They still love you.”

Mat shrugged his shoulders.

He knew the pain he caused when he broke up with you. And he knew that your mom, dad, and sister all witnessed the aftermath of what he put you through. There was part of him that would never forgive himself for acting so immature, and he was still working through his insecurities. But after that night of confrontation where you slept peacefully in his arms, he promised to always be upfront with his feelings.

You had been officially back together for four months, and made changes from the first time you were in a relationship, but Mat’s nerves surrounding your family were still present.

Your sister was the first to find out that you and Mat were back together. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her before she figured it out not even a month into your rekindled relationship. She called you out of the blue, and before you could greet her, she went straight to the point; Are you back together with Mat? You were a stuttering mess, not prepared to tell your family; You liked Tito’s most recent Instagram picture, your username came up next to the heart, and I know you unfollowed him after you weren’t with Mat.

Her sleuthing wasn’t that impressive, but you couldn’t lie to your sister. She warned you that a few more jokes would come at his expense to turn him red.

You told your mom in June. You had let it casually slip that you were going out with Mat for the day, and she was silent on the other end for a few moments. Like any mother who held their child as they openly sobbed after the end of a relationship, she was skeptical. But you reassured her that changes were made, and continue to be made, so it wouldn't end like the last time…So your relationship wouldn’t end at all.

She said as long as you were happy, she was happy.

You also told your dad in June, a week after you told your mom, because you knew she wouldn’t be able to hold onto that secret for long. It took a bit more planning and practicing on your end to tell him. You saw the way his jaw clenched and eyes full of hurt whenever he saw you cry. And when you told him, he sounded stiff, and reminded you that you were too good for him. But like your mom, you reassured him that things had changed; Mat had changed.

He reminded you that he never liked Mat that much to begin with.

When you and Mat reached the restaurant you were set to meet your family at, Mat opened the door for you. A breeze of air conditioning and the smell of clean air brought you out of your thoughts.

"Your dad’s already glaring at me and we’re not at the table yet.”

You let out a laugh and rested your forehead against Mat’s bicep briefly as you looked up at him with a smile, “Don’t worry, I talked to him plenty before this and told him to be on his best behavior.”

Mat took his sunglasses off, and as he stared down at you, you finally caught a look at his hazel eyes that shined bright with admiration for you, “Surprisingly, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

You dropped his hand and elbowed him at his sarcastic comment.

“Finally, you’re here,” your sister was the first one up from her seat to greet you with a hug.

You hugged her back tightly, “We’re on time, you guys got here early.”

She held you at arms length away and gave you a knowing look saying that of course they were going to show up early. It was the re-meeting the boyfriend lunch. She slightly gazed over your shoulder at Mat, who was politely talking with your mom, and you rolled your eyes silently telling her he was more nervous than the first time. She deviously smirked.

With a stiff handshake and a curt, Mathew, from your dad, you knew Mat felt as if he was drowning.

Appetizers and a bottle of wine were ordered for the table before you and Mat were present, so they arrived shortly after the two of you were seated next to each other. Like the first time Mat was around your family, he sat with perfect posture as he rapidly tapped his index finger against his thigh.

You discreetly scooted your chair closer to his.

Mat had just finished his first glass of water when your mom brought up hockey, “How did this season go, Mat?”

“It went well,” he answered as he took the water pitcher from the center of the table and poured himself another glass, “There were a few times we went up and down in ranking, but all in all, it was a strong season.”

“I watched a few highlights,” your dad said after he finished swallowing an appetizer, “You played well, especially towards the end of the season.”

Mat shyly smiled, his eyes glancing at you, because toward the end of the season was when you started communicating more, “Yeah, the end of the season was the best.”

You knocked your knee against Mat’s.

“And almost made it to the Cup again,” your dad shook his head with a light smile, “How’s the team looking this season?”

Mat took a sip of water, “We’re looking good. A few changes to the roster, but all for the best.” He fiddled with the white cloth napkin on his lap, “If you guys––I don’t know the next time you’re in town, but just let me know if you want to go to a game.” Mat smiled at your dad, and then turned to your mom, “I know my family wants to come down for a game.”

Your mom’s eyes lit up, “Oh, that would be wonderful!”

“Thanks, Mat,” your dad easily smiled, “I appreciate that.”

Mat shrugged his shoulders, a smile slowly growing on his face as your dad called him by his nickname, “I know how much you all like hockey, might as well use me for what I’m good for.”

Your parents laughed at his comment right as the waiter came up to take everyone’s order for their main course. You, Mat, and your sister had ordered, so your parents weren’t paying attention to your little trio.

“So, Mat,” your sister stretched out the lone vowel in his name, “Looks like you won the girl back before your franchise could win the Stanley Cup.”

Your eyes widened at her bluntness. It was always hard for a team to be so close to clinching that championship title––and well deserved praise as they lifted the Cup above their heads––only for it to be ripped away from them. And for the Islanders to be in that position another year, losing in the final round, it only aided in more salt to the wound.

Mat’s face still turned red at her unapologetic comment, but he recovered quickly, and wasn’t nearly as blindsided by her words like he was the first time. Instead, Mat offered your sister an easy smile, as he quickly made eye contact with you. His smile widened, “I think I won something better.”

Mat knocked his knee against yours.

#Mat Barzal #Mat Barzal fic #Mat Barzal imagine #Mat Barzal fluff #Mathew Barzal #Mat Barzal writing #Mat Barzal x Reader #Mat Barzzal Oneshot #Mat Barzal one shot #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal angst #mathew barzal fic #mat barzal new york islanders #new york islanders #mathew barzal new york islanders #honest to god why is tagging a thing sdlkjf hopefully i tagged all the right things!! ta!!

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Manager!Seijoh

a/n: im a seijoh stan and theyre my little plant babies

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

this is so long oml i hate myself

theyre an actual boy band istg

lets be honest, they probably thought you were just another oikawa fangirl

they thought you just wanted to be closer to their captain bc you were another delusional girl who wanted to live out her fantasies

lmao im not trying to be salty

but when you just stared blankly at oikawa tooru after he called you a beautiful flower,

stageplay hinata calling you a mugwort

the team just about threw themselves on your feet

tbh you werent really there to get a boyfriend or for oikawa

you just needed an after school club and the other teams already had managers

the only sport that didnt was the boys volleyball team

imagine why

you were actually a little wary, since you knew of oikawa, being a first year yourself, and you were aware of his psycho fangirls who could probably kill you

but you needed a club that would last you for the next 3 years to graduate

it was kunimi who actually recommended being a manager

you were in his class and you noticed him sleeping in the morning so you gave him your energy bar

‘thanks’

you shrugged and smiled

thats why he tolerated you more than others

you were nice and you were the only one who noticed his tiredness, even the teacher left him alone, and did something about it

sometimes, you even gave him an energy drink

‘can you tell me why youve been so tired lately? i dont think ive seen you wake up until lunch’

he opened the snack and started munching while replying

‘early morning practice for volleyball is still a big adjustment. our captain demands us to be there 6 in the morning sharp and if we’re even a minute late, we’d have to run laps. like for every minute youre late, you have to run those amount’

oh my why is kunimi talking so much

but i love kunimi and first year seijoh boys rights in this household is valid

you furrowed your eyebrows

‘but yall are still growing and you need all your sleep. if i were there, id yell at your captain’

he grinned slightly, imagining your short height beating up their captain

‘meh. you want to be our manager? i saw you looking at the clubs board yesterday and we dont have one so you could take the opportunity and beat him up then’

ofc you agreed bc kunimi was best boi and you just wanted him to have enough sleep for once

after class, he waited for you to finish packing up and when you finished, yall left the classroom

until another guy with a spiky hairstyle joined you and you noticed him as the guy who sometimes came over to eat lunch with kunimi

‘oh, hello l/n-san’

you smiled gently

‘drop the formalities, kindaichi-kun. its only fair.’

he nodded before walking beside kunimi

‘kindaichi, l/n might be our new manager’

the onion head excitedly looked at you

‘really?! yes! so we dont have to fill our bottles ourselves anymore!’

kunimi glared at him and slapped his stomach

‘shes our manager, not our maid’

you laughed but placed an arm on him

‘its okay. i was a manager for my middle school volleyball team so i know a little bit about being one’

the two shared a look

god, they really hit the jackpot

as yall walked closer to the gym, you noticed the big pile of girls huddling at the corner

kunimi sighed

‘l/n, ill warn you ahead of time of our captain. hes kinda,,,, too much’

but you flashed him a smile

‘hes not the first one ive handled’

oml player-chan!!!

so when you opened the door and entered the gym and oikawa hit you with his normal antics, you just stared at him

‘okay and?’

hanamaki and mattsun howled before rushing to you and grabbing you in a hug

‘girls like her really exist!!’

you gave kunimi and kindaichi a signal of help and they nodded before gently prying the senpais off of you

‘senpai, please’

you gave kunimi a grateful nod

coach irihata went up to you bc wow, kunimi has a friend with of another gender?

‘how can we help you, miss?’

‘im l/n y/n, first year, and id like to apply as the manager’

internally, the coach sighed bc you werent the first one to apply

the reason they havent had a manager for years was bc of oikawa’s fangirls hiding themselves under that false facade

but he saw you brush off that comment oikawa make with no hint of fluster or blush on your face so he decides to give you a trial run, in guise of seeing if you could handle these chaotic boys

‘do you have any experience as manager? or do we need to teach you the ropes?’

‘i was a manager for 3 years in my middle school volleyball’

he nodded

‘ill give you one month. a trial run of a month to test the waters’

you agreed and your trial run began

kunimi mentioned that morning practice starts at 6 am sharp so you set your alarm for 5 to get ready and get to school on time before the boys

you remembered how to set up the nets so you quickly put them out (using a step stool bc we short) and ran to get the basket of balls

their water bottles were filled and you were in the middle of lugging the big basket of towels when the third years entered

the 4 of them usually came earlier than the rest so they saw you dragging the basket of fresh towels and wipe your sweat before smiling at the work youve done

iwa was so happy bc it was usually him who did this stuff and now that he had someone do it for him, it was like a god-send

oikawa’s eyes shone and he waved at you

‘yohoo, y/n-chan!’

you cringed at the loud voice of the famous oikawa tooru

‘hello, oikawa-san’

he chuckled at your politeness before hugging you

‘you did all this for us? youre so cute, y/n-chan!’

instead of the normal blush and love-struck eyes, you were actually very uncomfortable of the sudden skinship and you quickly ran to the side when iwa hit him at the head

‘shittykawa! leave her alone!’

‘iwa-chan!’

makki and mattsun stood next to you as the boys did their usual fight

‘is this all an act or are you really not attracted to oikawa?’

mattsun shot him a surprised look bc why was he so straightforward

but you just shrugged

‘hes cute, i admit. but ive seen much cuter and the boys in my middle school team was basically full of him so,,, and i hate guys who think theyre all that just bc theyre blessed w a pretty face. if anything, ill probably go for iwaizumi-san’

pop off S I S T E R!!!

you just won the heart of these two

slowly but surely, they all came to accept you and iwa straight out loves you bc you maintained this routine for the whole month of your trial run

and you still remained indifferent of oikawa’s advances and he was even impressed and slightly agitated that you werent paying attention to him

‘y/n-chan, one date! just one!’

you huffed before looking up from your clipboard

‘i like men, oikawa-san. not boys’

that comment made the guys shriek

‘y/n-chan! youre just a first year! you dont need a man!’

‘youre not a man, oikawa!’

you left oikawa to be tormented by his teammates and went to go and hand over the report to the coach

he was impressed by the notes you made bc they were ones he even missed

like the split-second of hesitation that kindaichi usually has that goes unnoticed but you immediately saw

or the wince oikawa has whenever he so much as jumps an inch

you could even tell the difference between iwa’s spike and if he was being easy or he was going full-out

this added on to the fact that the boys loved you and irihata actually saw kunimi try more

but he thinks its only to earn your praises

‘y/n, youre officially the team manager’

yall celebrated at the normal hang-out spot which was the ramen shop and it truly shocked you at how much these boys ate

granted, this was the first time you ate together but you didnt expect them to eat nearly 5 bowls each

you could only finish 2 and you already feel like throwing up

‘honestly, how do you guys not gain weight after this?’

the table you sat at, iwa, kindaichi, mattsun, and kunimi, looked at you and shrugged

‘i work out’

‘i run’

‘i fast’

‘i poop it out’

lmao im sorry i cackled too hard at this

you stared blankly at mattsun’s answer who said it so seriously that you snorted a laugh

they watched you and your laughter bc you havent really expressed yourself as much

so they made it their goal to see you laugh more

‘y/n-chan! you need to eat more!’

oikawa shouted, clearly food drunk, but you shook your head aggressively

‘i only planned to eat one bowl but he just had to shove another down my throat’

‘but you need to grow, y/n-chan!’

‘i want to grow taller! not wider!!’

As a manager:

oh boy

you basically grew into kinda their mom

‘oikawa-san! you need to rest your knee or youre going to hurt yourself! i will drag you home myself!’

‘kunimi, if you try to get this one more spike, i’ll buy you a bag of those caramel bites you like’

‘iwa-san! if you hit oikawa-san too much, youll destroy the little braincells he has!’

‘yahaba-san, nice dump!’

‘is your knee okay, watari-san?’

yall really forget that watari and yahaba exist sometimes smh

it was part of the work

keeping up with seijoh

so to keep them encouraged, you gave them praises that they always demand for and they always turn to you whenever they did something good

mattsun gives you a look whenever he blocks iwa’s spikes and you give kindaichi a head pat whenever he blocks some too

bc of how you are with them, sometimes, they forget that you are actually just a first year

they get shocked whenever you walk in with kunimi and kindaichi and talk about the current homework bc it slips their mind that their hard-working manager was actually just a 15-year-old girl

so, they try to ease the burden whenever they can

like iwa offering to help you whenever you have to take their jerseys to the laundrymat

or offering to help you with your assignments since theyve only been through it once

more like watari, yahaba, and iwa bc the matsuhana are clueless and acts like they completely skipped that grade

also

!!!!

oikawa’s fangirls ltr dont leave you alone!!!

now, its known that youre the manager of the volleyball team bc oikawa has boasted about your efforts and such

this obvs ticked off a bunch of girls bc they were jealous that you got to spend more time in a single practice with their precious oikawa-senpai than they have their entire lives

more than once theyve cornered you to threaten you to stay away from their senpai or youll have something coming for you

you never take them seriously bc you can fight too and you just give them a look and push them away

but this one time

TRIGGER WARNING-START

okay tea

the self-proclaimed president of the oikawa tooru fanclub, kenta miyo, cornered you at the bathroom with her other minions

you were just washing your hands and drying them off when she marched up to you and grabbed your hair before tugging it back

obviously you were surprised and shouted

‘oi! what the hell?!’

‘you slut! you need to stay away from my tooru, got it?!’

ehm what

you hissed and wrenched her arm from your hair and pushed her away

your hair was now a mess and you were fuming, already sick and tired of the torture these girls put you through

‘he belongs to himself, not you! so stop being delusional and leave me alone already!’

she signalled for the girls to hold on to you which you slapped away but they forcefully grabbed your arm while you kicked at them and struggle to get out of their hold

jesus what do these girls eat

miyo watches you struggle with a smile and cackles

‘oh? no fight anymore, little kouhai?’

you glared at her

‘i dont want to beat yall up bc id get yelled at by tooru so you need to let me go or regret it’

at the mention of his first name, her eyes widened and her face twisted and she slapped you

‘oi! respect your senpai, you brat! dont you ever say oikawa’s first name!’

your lips curled

‘oh? thats funny, because he actually told me to call him that since he wants his cute little manager to be very comfortable with him’

you achieved a feat that she has been working to get her entire high school life and miyo was not happy

‘ive been with him for 3 years and you just suddenly show up out of nowhere and call him that?! i dont think so!’

she had her hands around your neck and you gripped her arms, making her wince

but you laughed at that comment

‘heh, thats pathetic, isn’t it? here you are, my senpai, who has been vying for his attention for 3 years only to be ignored yet a mere first year, who shows up out of nowhere, has been asked to a date nearly a million times every day. that must be tough’

she shrieked at that comment and threw you on the floor, making you accidentally hit your head at the edge of the sink

yall im actually so bothered by this scene and im wincing as im typing

you bit your lip to prevent any sound of pain to escape bc you knew thats what she wanted to hear from you

but you werent going to give her the satisfaction

instead, you looked up at her, hatred swirling in your eyes

‘youre freaking psycho, you know that? once tooru and hajime knows about this, theyre going to give you hell. they wont ever let this go bc im the manager of their prized team and their little baby sister. so go ahead, do what you want with me. bc i paid too much for these nails to be tainted by dirt like you’

saiyo, a girl you noticed to be watari’s classmate when you went and visited him, nervously tugged on miyo’s jacket

‘miyo, we should go-’

‘SHES BLUFFING. AND HERE, SINCE YOUR SOCCERFIELD FOREHEAD IS BLEEDING, LET ME HELP WASH IT OUT’

and she poured over a carton of banana milk over you, making you wince at the sticky and cold liquid

the tough facade was crumbling and you were now screaming for help in your head, hoping that stupid theory from yahaba about team telepathy to work

but it didnt

TRIGGER WARNING-END

when miyo and her girls left, you sat on the floor, soaked and sticky and bleeding

then you begin to cry angry tears

you were angry that you were being treated like this just bc you were a manager

you were angry that you let them do that to you

you were angry that you prized your nails more than punching her square in the nose

you were just angry

periodt

staggering on your own feet, you stood up and leaned on the sink, eyes widening at the dripping red liquid from the gash on your forehead, staining the porcelain sink

you were stupid and unconsciously touched it making you wince

‘shit, that hurts’

you whined quietly

there was little you can do with toilet paper and water to clean yourself up but you managed to at least stop the bleeding

you knew you had to be put on concussion protocol just in case bc you that hit was quite hard but at the moment, that wasnt your concern

practice has already started and this was the first time you werent present for daily practice

this was confirmed at the constant buzzing of your phone in your skirt pocket which you didnt listen to and instead, started thinking of ways to go to your locker and get your stuff and fake being sick but at the same time, not be seen and relayed to the team

time was ticking and you had to come up with a plan fast before oikawa will send the team to come looking around the building for you

once you looked at your reflection and smiled big, you decided it was enough to not show the pain you were in right now

girl im hurting for you

you peeked out of the bathroom door and saw the coast was clear so you quickly ran to your classroom, which was thankfully empty, and quickly grabbed your things

but as you were packing up, the tears just kept falling

it didnt stop as you bolted down the stairs, using your cardigan to hide your face from the public

once you were safely out of school grounds, you finally took out your phone and reviewed through all the worried and concerned texts from the team group chat

but you just replied, ‘im fine but i just feel really sick right now. girl stuff’

you smirked, knowing that would keep the boys away

but oikawa had to go and ask you to call him

‘y/n-chan! do you want oikawa-senpai to come over with chocolates and ice cream?! wings or no wings?!’

your jaw dropped at the question and clearly scandalized by the question

the team was too as shouting began and you could faintly hear iwa scream, ‘oh my god, shittykawa!’

‘im seriously okay, oikawa-san. i just need to be alone right now and ill try and get some sleep. good bye’

then you hung up

there was no way you could tell them

they were in their last year anyways so doing something about it wouldnt matter

and you were strong

but apparently not strong enough to fight them off though

you would cover the wound with concealer and continue on with practice tomorrow as if everything was normal

but there was only so much you could take

just yesterday, they trashed your locker and a week ago, they took your bento and threw it away

you even got into a fight with this one girl but she scampered away, too scared to do anything alone

so you were actually just tired and want everyone to leave you alone

believe me, youve thought of quitting sometimes

but youve actually created a bond with these boys

like when you take hanamaki to get cream puffs whenever he loses against iwa in arm wrestling

or when yahaba calls you at ungodly hours to express his worries for next year and to fill oikawa’s shoes

it was simple moments that you shared with each player that kept you from not leaving

soon, you found yourself crying again and the looks pedestrians were giving you was starting to make you uncomfortable

a girl, with her gross hair in a bun, puffy eyes with a bleeding wound and walking down the street

that was a sight

so you cut a corner to an alley by your house to escape from the judging eyes and you were too busy wiping your eyes to see a boy who was crouched down on the floor and ended up walking over him

omg my baby kyoken hello luv!!!!

you gasped and you were surprised and quickly apologized

kyotani was originally about to yell at you, no matter what, but he saw the state you were in and concluded you were either from a fight or was beaten up

he recognized that and decided to just glare at you and go back to feeding the stray dogs and cats

you breathed a sigh in relief when he didnt yell at you bc that wouldve been the last thing you needed today

‘sir, im sorry for hitting you. if there is something i could do for you, dont hesitate’

he ignored you and you focused on him paying attention to the strays

going into your backpack, you had a milk carton and a sausage stick from earlier

you used your thermos lid to serve as the milk bowl for the cats while you peeled open the meat and used your scissors to cut chunks of it for the dogs to have some

kyotani watched as you went into action to feeding the animals that people usually ignored

he knew you

well, he recognized you

when he watched from the top of the gym, he saw you as their manager who ran around and helped everyone

sure, he still didnt trust you

but he watched you grin and smile as the animals started to eat

‘im in a hurry right now so i have to go but ill feed you again tomorrow, okay? you too, stranger-san. ill bring food for you too’

then you stood up and ran away, probably in a hurry to fix that wound

he wouldve offered to treat it for you but he remained silent, watching the cats mewl at the now empty lid

the next day, oikawa was worried for you and when he saw you at early morning practice, he practically glomped to your side

‘y/n-chan! you okay?! oikawa-senpai was so worried for you!’

you cringed but nodded

‘im okay, oikawa-san’

‘senpai, y/n-chan! call me senpai!’

‘im not going to feed into your kink, oikawa-san’

*cue everyone busting a lung*

to this day, no one still knew what happened to you

you kept it quiet and you were sure you got everything handled

except for one person

kyotani was smart and for some reason he knew you got beat up by the fangirls and the perpetrators were easily found bc he saw them huddled around your locker, probably trashing it again, and lets just say,

no one is def going to mess w you now

back to manager moments!!

during practice matches, the boys rally around you to prevent other teams from sweet-talking you

they make sure no one gets past them and always have excuses to get your attention

you knew what they were doing but you pretended not to, heart warming at their protectiveness and hunger for your attention

even though you have your own jacket, the team gives you theirs all the time like oikawa has his special team jacket w his name at the back and when he feels threatened by schools like johzenji, he makes you wear it

‘youre mine, y/n-chan and i want that blondie to know’

‘ehm, no, oikawa-san. im iwaizumi-san’s’

oikawa screamed

lmao training camps w them is CHAOTIC

YOU WANT TO CRYYYYYY

OIKAWA IS CRYING BC IWAIZUMI IS BEATING HIM UP, MATSUHANA ARE FREAKING OUT THE FIRST YEARS ABOUT THE GHOSTS IN THE WOODS AND NOW KINDAICHI REFUSES TO LET GO OF YOU, WATARI GOT LOST GOING TO THE BATHROOM AND YAHABA IS SCREAMING ABOUT THE WEATHER MESSING UP HIS HAIR AND MAKING IT FRIZZY

reminder: threaten to quit everytime they get too much

your hugs are the best!!!!

you have a special hug for every player

oikawa gets his favorite which was the normal arm around the waist with your arms around his neck while he snuggles in your neck

iwa gets flustered easily so you hug him from behind so you cant see his flustered look

mattsun actually likes the jumping in the air so he catches you type of hug

makki is more tame and has his arms around your shoulder with his chin on your head

yahaba is the twirly kind where he just picks you up and swings you around

watari also gets flustered easily so he likes the one-arm hugs

kindaichi gets blushy at the slightest touch from you but he gives you a hug from behind you himself where he can bury his face in your hair while you caress his arms

kunimi, now he likes it when you squeeze him extremely tight bc it makes him feel loved and feel alive

kyo doesnt even talk to you what makes you think you can give him a hug

their lost for shiratorizawa really broke them though

you made them their own bentos for nearly a week to keep them encouraged and gave oikawa extra attention to keep him from sulking or practicing late

‘oikawa-senpai, lets go watch that new movie later’

‘S-S-SENPAI?!’

then the arrival of our baby kyoken

yahaba was moody the whole practice and you were currently trying to keep him from spiking a ball to someone

‘even just today, he’s late’

‘who?’

‘that stupid dog’

he just keeps mumbling and grunting

and then the said dog arrived

you peaked out from behind iwaizumi, who protectively went in front of you

shock ran through you and you pointed at him

‘puppy-kun!’

lmao puppy what

youve called him that since he refused to tell you his name, but you call him that bc he paid special attention to this one baby beagle

he raised a hand in greeting and you gave him a smile

‘youre a player here, too?!’

he ‘glared’ at you but nodded stiffly

the team really thought that he would lash out at you but he is surprisingly tolerant

the power of the manager

he still hasnt talked to you but he does respond to you and even helps you with chores, still not talking ofc

hes so tsun tsun and he deserves my heart yall

however, youve heard him talk to iwaizumi, and iwaizumi only, so youve heard his voice before

ngl, you were flustered by how gruff and deep it was

then their loss to karasuno

bruh, it was KARASUNO

the entire team fell apart and after the match, each of them ran away from you to stop lashing out

you were also on the verge of crying, seeing the broken look on your third years

your precious third years

you decided to give them their own space but you heard a loud banging sound from the bathroom

yahaba and watari were outside, clearly trying to talk to someone in there on coming out but it got louder

okay you were lowkey like, ‘hm, i should not be here’

but you recognized that voice

you knocked at the boys door to be respectful

‘kyo-san? its me, y/n’

he was silent but he did unlock it

you took this as a sign to enter and you gave yahaba and watari a smile

‘i’ll be fine. go to kindaichi and kunimi. they need your comfort right now’

tbh, you were surprised the bathroom was still intact but you saw the stall door at the very end being rattled and shaken

you remained by the door but you wanted to go to him

‘kyo-san, please come out so i can treat your injuries’

he expected you to say those words like ‘its okay’ or ‘theres always next year’ but you didnt

instead, you knew he was hurt and wanted to help him

he continued to give a few punches to the wall and the door before emerging

you wordlessly treated the wounds and offered your hand

‘im here, kyo-san. dont worry, im right here’

at the ramen shop, you told them to eat as much as they want and wordlessly gave them your card, slightly crying inside bc you know this was going to be like over a hundred dollars

but you were treating the boys bc they deserved it

you sat beside kindaichi, who was just sobbing and apologizing, so you were wiping his tears and holding his hand under the table

this precious babie

bruh i was sobbing when i watched this part like uuggghhhh

after dinner, you walked with the other third years, knowing they would go to the gym, so you gave everyone else your special hugs before sending them home

‘text me when you arrive safely, okay?’

‘yes, mom’

‘KINDAICHI WHAT’

oikawa’s speech made you cry bc despite only knowing them for not even a year, you already feel like a family

you didnt want your family to be broken but you knew they would all go their separate ways eventually

there was a big hug pile of third years on the side where you took a picture and sent it to the group chat

you had to eventually go home after helping them clean up and when you checked your phone, a fresh batch of tears rolled down

each from every person on the team but with the same sentence and same words

‘we love you, l/n y/n. thanks for everything.’

ngl i dont think this was that good and its like 8 in the morning and im extremely tired

i want to do karasuno, nekoma, and fukurodani but im so exhausted i cannot right now

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silversatoru · 3 years

Text

the thin line between hope and despair

yelena x gn! reader

synopsis: you’re in love with yelena, and she feels nothing for for you. constant hook-ups and faded morals = very messy feelings

tags/warnings: nsfw, some smut?, angst, unrequited love, one-sided feelings, fuck buddies

word count: 2.5k

a/n: for my my sweet bby girl @brandmeyelena <3

Yelena knows what she’s doing with you isn’t right — on so many fucking levels. Taking advantage of your utter desperation for her over and over again when she knows damn well that she couldn’t care less about you. It wasn’t fair, especially for you, but she just couldn’t really find it in herself to feel sorry for someone so pitiful. You were so willing to devote yourself to her in exchange for mere crumbs of her affection, and it was pathetic. You left a sour taste in her mouth, a taste of sorrow and complete wretchedness, but you were also the perfect distraction. The perfect relief from all of her stress and all of her responsibilities with the volunteers. She was tired, and you were just so damn desperate to make her feel better — so how could she refuse? The answer was simple, she couldn’t.

That exact thought process is what landed her here today, with her fingers around your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. She knows you love it too, being used like this — the way your cheeks grow flushed and your eyes get foggy when she cuts off the circulation to your brain. But she doesn’t do it for you — Yelena enjoys these things just as much as you do, her power hungry ego being fervently stroked by dominating you like this. Pinning you underneath of her and giving you orders made her feel in control — and that was perfect, because god knows she isn’t in control of anything else in her life right now.

Get down, she’d hiss at you, pointing to the floor with her long, slender index finger. Your pathetic frame would sink to your knees instantly, wordlessly doting to her every command. She’d lean back on her shoulders, her hips propped on the edge of the bed, and give you an expectant look. You know what to do. Do it, her voice would snarl, her empty eyes swirling with hunger. You’d feverishly obey, launching yourself forward and graciously opening your mouth for her pussy. You were dedicated to your craft, taking your time and ensuring that your tongue consumed every inch of her. Yelena’s head would fall back and, raspy, wet noises gurgled from her throat. She was entirely consumed by this twisted bliss — and she was a horrible monster for letting you do these things to her, but she felt far too good to care.

So now here you were, your tongue buried deep inside her while you worked desperately to make her feel better. She was quieter than usual today — the only things to leave her lips were small groans and half-assed insults. Things like the occasional “faster” while she pulled your hair, or “stupid slut” when you weren’t doing things quite right. The slander only made you work harder however, and honestly anything that came out of the blonde woman’s mouth was music to your ears. You stared up at her with rose-colored glasses, living in a delusional world where you truly believed Yelena cared about you.

It was a dreadfully fucked up dynamic — this relationship the two of you had, if it could even be called that. One of you lived in a terrible fantasy of what could be and the other was practically incapable of feeling human emotions. It was truly only a matter of time before the world started burning around the two of you.

A very short matter of time.

Yelena was spasming underneath of you now, warm juices and shaky convulsions racking through her body and into your mouth. You drove your tongue deep against her contracting walls, your eyes squeezed shut. A disgustingly sticky mixture of her fluids and your own saliva dripped down your chin as you finally pulled away, a bitter taste hanging on your tongue.

And Yelena was always quick to leave, she never stuck around any longer than she had to. She came, she came, and then she’d pull shitty excuses out of her ass as to why she needed to leave so soon. Those reasons more often than not consisted of one person — Zeke Yeager. Whether or not there was something romantic between the two, or if she was just highly devoted to him, you could never tell. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know, honestly, because the answer might just break your heart.

Why don’t you stay tonight, Lena? You looked over at her as she pulled her trousers up her long, gangly legs. You craved something deeper with her, something more than just occasional casual sex — but it was really too bad that she didnt reciprocate those feelings at all. Sorry, there's a meeting tonight. I have to go. She’d respond, her voice dull as she carelessly brushed you off and slipped on her boots.

Will Zeke be there? Your voice always got low when you talked about him, but you made intentional efforts to hide the jealousy in your tone. Of course he’ll be there, he is the leader, she’d state dully as if this was obvious, and maybe it was, but it still made your chest ache.

You spend a lot of time with him lately, even outside of meetings, you’d state your observations out loud for the first time. Confrontation wasn’t something you enjoyed, and you certainly weren’t any good at explaining your feelings either. But your heart was starting to nag you lately, and you needed to voice your opinions before it was too late.

We’re preparing for a war, her eyes grew incredibly narrow, try not to make such selfish accusations right now. The words were like daggers of guilt stabbing between your ribs. Yelena had a way with words — a shiny silver tongue that always made you believe what she said without a doubt. You started to believe that you were being selfish — after all the war was very real and Yelena was very involved, that's probably all it was.

You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you were around more. Your voice was much quieter now, shame and remorse churning in your stomach -- maybe you would have been better off not saying anything at all.

We’re busy. You have to understand where I’m coming from here. It’s hard for me to make time right now, she’d continue to spew nonsense into your impressionable ears. She didn’t like that you were starting to question her, not at all. She’d say whatever you needed to hear to keep you around at this point — she didn’t plan on losing her little fuck-toy anytime soon. If you needed a little affection to keep you complacent, then she’d just need to put on a little show for you.

Come here, I’m sorry, her tone grew softer, but not at all sincere. You helplessly sunk into her spindly arms, and she pulled you tight to her chest. Just hold on until after the war, okay? Once we make the world a better place, we can do whatever you want.

More false hope, false promises, and false reassurance. The war would be brutal, you’d probably die at some point in a terrible event of collateral damage. You’d die and then Yelena would never need to fulfil her empty promises -- it was that easy, and you’d never know the difference.

That sounds nice, you’d smile, your heart warming at the idea of living in a free world with Yelena by your side. You fell ignorantly for her words, missing every single warning sign and every single red flag. Maybe if you’d noticed the subtle darkness in her eyes, the strain in her tone, or the way she hugged you a little too roughly, you could have saved yourself from the ensuing heartbreak. Or maybe if you had realized that with you being a scout and her being a follower of Zeke, it was unlikely that the two of you would ever work out. But you stupidly refused to consider any of these things, and it was going to cost you your heart.

That fateful memory was a few months ago, and now the both of you were in Marley, anxiously waiting for Eren’s plan to unfold. You were partnered with your friend Connie, his lips twisting into a thin line as the two of you hid in the shadows on top of an industrial building. You were incredibly capable with your 3dm gear, and even more capable with the new gun technology, but you were practically useless with your head in its current state. You watched the streets with fervent eyes, dashing them up and down nearby alleyways and hoping for any sign of Yelena. The attack hadn’t even started yet, but not knowing her whereabouts made you incredibly uneasy. She was probably wherever Zeke was, of course, but you liked to think that wherever she was, she was worried about you too.

Yelena was hiding in plain sight, dressed in a traditional Marleyan Army uniform with fake facial hair wrapped around her chin. She did as she was ordered, trapping two of the titan shifters in a large hole and then retreating back to her position. She was focused solely on her task, and on Zeke and how she could ensure his safety, and honestly, the thought of you hadn’t crossed her mind once tonight.

When Eren’s attack came, it came suddenly and violently -- and it was like nothing you’ve ever seen before, or at least not since the colossal and armored titans attacked so many years ago. Before you could even take in the horrifying scene in front of you, Connie was grabbing your hand and ushering you to run, the two of you taking off with your 3dm gear. You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering as your body swung through the air, frantically searching the streets for the tall, blonde woman who owned your heart. But maybe you should have paid less attention to finding her, and more attention to where you were going.

Connie’s shrill scream shook you to your core, and at first you didn’t even notice the array of guns pointed right at the two of you. A group of Marleyan soldiers were lined up atop a building, every single nozzle of their firearms preparing to shoot at you and Connie. Your friend shot his gear downwards, swooping underneath the scope of the guns and shouting at you to follow him. And you tried, you really did, but you were horribly distracted and accidentally shot your gear into the very edge of a building. The hook crumbled the corner of the building and was unable to secure itself, sending you hurling to the ground beneath you. Your breath was wiped clean from your chest as you smacked against the ground, dust and dirt filling your lungs. Connie was forced to swing up onto a higher building, narrowly avoiding the bullets and unable to come down after you. Your bones ached as you peeled yourself off the ground, looking up just to see pieces of rubble hurling towards you. What the FUCK, Eren? You silently cursed out that irresponsible titan boy, scrambling to avoid the giant chunks of building that were quickly getting closer.

You thought you’d made it, your heart beat gushing in your ears as you launched yourself towards another building, only to be knocked back down by a slab of broken concrete. Pained yelps squeezed out from your throat as your body fell helplessly back to the ground. This fall did a number on you, your ears ringing and your head pounding with a dull pain. The large piece of rubble had crashed into one of your legs, rendering your leg immobile and absolutely crushing your gear. Connie couldn’t help you, not when saving you guaranteed his own demise — you needed to do this on your own, unless-

“Yelena!” You called out to the towering woman who was stumbling towards you. Her arm was wrapped around an injured Zeke, and she was working hard to carry him to safety. Levi must have rocked his shit again, you’d have to thank him for that if you made it out of this alive.

Yelena stopped momentarily when she saw your mangled leg, but not even an ounce of concern crossed her determined face. She looked you up and down, and then glanced down at Zeke as if she was weighing her options.

“I’m sorry,” She shot you a horribly unsypathetic look, dragging her gaze away from you and hurrying off with the injured blonde boy.

It was so simple, so short, and there wasn't the smallest hint of remorse in her voice. Your brain couldn’t process how easy it was for her to leave you there, your mouth hanging open in a small “o”. You would give your life for Yelena, and she didn’t even blink when you were faced with certain death — and that’s when it all started to set in. The delusional facade that you’d imagined between the two of you was shattering, small pieces of glass memories crashing and crumbling around you. The cruel owner of your pitiful heart felt nothing for you, and it had taken this long for you to finally realize.

All of the days and nights the two of you spent entangled in each other's arms had meant nothing. All of the time you spent with your lips locked against hers and her large hands caressing your body had been devoid of anything more than lust for her. Terrible embarrassment washed up inside of you as you recalled all of the sinful things you did for this cold-hearted, unfeeling woman.

Your motivation to fight was gone, your eyes locked onto Yelena’s tall figure as she ran further away and out of view. She’d picked Zeke over you again, she always did, and she always would. She practically worshiped him, like he was some kind of fucked up, twisted god. You weren’t sure why you ever thought you could compete with that.

In the midst of your complete breakdown, a firm arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into the air. Connie had come back for you, cold air stinging your face as the two of you shot up to the safety of a tall, nearby building.

“Fuck, y/n, stop being so careless! And I hope you’ll finally give up on that lanky bitch after she walked right past you like that,” he let out an exasperated breath, slumping behind a large brick wall.

“Sorry… thank you,” you mumbled, “You really shouldn’t have risked your life like that”.

“No, but that’s what people are supposed to do when they care about each other. Is it finally sinking in, that she's been using you for the past year? I tried to tell you so many time-,” He continued to ramble on in frustration.

Every one of his words poured salt into your already burning wounds, tears beginning to leak from your eyes. Yelena didn’t care about you, she never did — she’d never even sacrificed time for you, never mind compromising her or Zeke’s safety for you. And you were stupidly ignorant to ever think that she saw you as more than a toy she used to pass the time.

#yelena #yelena angst #yelena attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #yelena x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan angst

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junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

Text

❦ comfort & cuddles | psh

↬ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: park sunghoon x reader

↬ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: boyfriend!sunghoon | angst bc of reader’s feelings | fluff bc hoonie comforts reader

↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: exhaustion | not eating enough food | implies past self-harm | (if there are any other warnings that I missed please let me know just to be safe)

↬ ɴᴏᴛᴇ:

i procrastinated on my own essay by writing this so not my best writing

I have a very strong dislike for school rn & just want hoonie cuddles :(

if you’re a reader of the tatts & cupcakes series there’ll (hopefully) be a new chapter posted sometime later this week/next week but idk for sure yet

Your mind started to enter a sort of haze as the effects of staring at a screen all day started to set in. Exhaustion was the only way to describe what you were feeling due to approaching deadlines and assignments that were starting to pile. Your tendency to procrastinate only worsened things and now you were stuck dealing with the consequences. Your eyes met the numbers on the upper right corner of your laptop, 2:12 am which meant that you’ve been working on the essay all day. Technically, all day yesterday and 2 hours into today since it was now a new day. So many hours spent with music playing in the background, the tips of your fingers constantly tapping the letter of the keyboard, constantly racking your brain for what to write. Yet…

There. Was. No. Progress. Whatsoever.

All you had since you started working on the damn assignment was your name, date, and title. Whatever your mind seemed to think of and the words that formed as a result of it just didn’t feel good enough. But if you were being honest, nothing really felt good enough anymore.

Constantly waking up, attending the same classes, receiving more and more work, just when did life get to this point? One minute you were a kid carefree and worried about what toppings to get on your fro-yo when the next minute you were grown up with a crap ton of responsibilities on you and a complete lack in time management. Hell, you even started skipping lunch hour because of all the things you needed to do. It reached a point where you skipped one lunch and came to the realization that eating just wasn’t actually all that important because you could get by on the little you did eat for breakfast. As for dinner, well, you were too exhausted to get up and make something so you either ordered in or just headed straight to bed. You didn’t exactly know what came over you as your fist met your desk, your head leaning back into your chair and eyes meeting the ceiling of your room. You had a tendency to want to hit things when stressed and while hitting something wasn’t the best way to deal with anything it was better than what you used to do. As you brought up your hand to put it over your forehead, your eyes glanced at the marks that served as a constant reminder of who you used to be.

Hitting your desk once in a while was definitely better than what you used to do.

Maybe it was the frustration of your mind not being capable enough to answer the damn essay prompt.

Maybe it was because you were hungry but getting up felt too exhausting.

Maybe it was because caffeine just didn’t feel like it was doing its job lately.

With clammy hands and nails digging into your skin, breathing that you started losing control of, you cried. You didn’t know how long you sat there, tears streaming down your face and breathing that you eventually lost control of. It wasn’t until a pair of arms were wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warmth trademarked by your boyfriend, Park Sunghoon that you were brought back to reality. Your tears were wiped away with the soft material of his sleeve and your face slightly grimaced as the taste of a sour candy filled your mouth but it helped you calm down since your senses were now focused on the flavor instead of being overwhelmed about everything going on.

“Y/n,” Sunghoon said softly, almost as if he raised his voice he was scared that he’d break you. Your hands clutched onto his shoulders and your eyes met his to see nothing but pure concern and worry for you.

“W-when’d you, when’d you get here?” you asked, tone wavering and voice shaky.

“I called but you weren’t answering so I got worried,” he answered as his hand smoothened out the top of your hair.

“Crap, Hoonie, I’m sorry. I had my phone on Do Not Disturb,” you muttered. “You should leave, the managers are gonna get mad at you for sneaking out of the dorm.”

“If you think I’m leaving you like this, you’re delusional. Now, c’mon.”

“Where?”

“To bed.” Your eyes widened slightly,

“You’re spending the night here?”

“Only if you want me to.” Did you really want him to spend the night with you?

“What are you gonna be doing?” Pressing a light kiss to the top of your head,

“Comfort and cuddles.”

“I need to finish my essay, Hoonie. It’s due later, I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do.” He rubbed soothing circles on your back,

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be ok. If anything we can call up Heeseung or Jungwon to help you, ok? One letter on an essay isn’t worth what’s happening to you right now.” You looked up at him,

“I’m so tired,” you whispered.

“Let me take you to bed?” he asked as more of a question than a statement. You nodded and felt him lifting you up, your back then met the soft impact of the mattress. The blanket was draped over you, then you felt Hoonie’s arms wrap around your waist. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, the man most of his days on the ice but he was warmer than anyone else you ever knew.

“Comfort and cuddles,” you whispered before closing your eyes and allowing yourself to settle in Hoonie’s embrace and warmth.

❦ written by riri | blog master list

ǫᴜɪᴄᴋ ᴄʟɪᴄᴋs ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ ғɪᴄs

boys & girls try to pretend | the only thing you’re falling for on my watch is me

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lebrookestore · 3 years

Text

voicemail; m.tl

Pairing: Moon Taeil x reader

Warnings: angst, very sad, implied character death, tears, PG13

Wc: 1.2k

Taglist:@danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem-main @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @the-rooftop-fight

Playlist: Talking to the moon by Bruno Mars, Gone by Rose, Grey by Why Don’t We

You eyes flitted over your phones screen, finger hovering over his contact. Fighting your sleep, you blinked several times, wondering if this was a good idea. Maybe you were delusional, at this hour it was understandable, or maybe you were hoping for a miracle.

By god you needed one. But you weren’t foolish, you knew miracles were a rarity. Wishing upon a star was fruitless, all it gave you was false hopes and let downs. You were so tired of being let down.

You pressed his name, bringing the device to your ears, listening to the ringtone, waiting for Taeil’s cheerful voice. You waited for your world to light up once again, even if it was just for a moment.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three-

“Hey, you’ve reached the moon! Okay not really, I wish I was as cool as the moon, but it’s Taeil! I’m not here right now, but leave a message!”

You let a smile show briefly and sighed. That was all you were greeted with lately, voicemail. You didn’t expect any more, but it was nice to hear his voice from time to time.

“Um hey”, you started, “How are you, its been a long time huh?”

The silence of the night fell heavily around your words, making it hard for you to continue. You cleared your throat, rubbing your arms, “Remember that time when we went to get ice cream after class?”

You didn’t get an answer, feeling worse and worse as the seconds ticked by.Pulling your knees to your chest you scoffed, "I know I'm pathetic", you whispered, "I'm sorry, but-"

You sucked in a breath, your mouth going dry, "Fuck I miss you."

You wondered he would respond to that, maybe with a laugh? Maybe he'd say it back or nod his head instead of answering as he did. You smiled at the thought, humming an aimless tune. It was one of the songs Taeil liked, you never learned the lyrics, but you remembered the tune.

"I love you", you said, wondering what would happen when the message was opened. You decided not to think of it.

You clicked off the call, throwing your phone to the side and buried your head in your hands. You should’ve just slept, you should have gone to sleep instead of waiting up this late, at 4 in the morning.

What was the point anymore?

“I hate you”, you muttered, contradicting your previous words, the coldness of the night getting to you. You didn’t have it in you to scream or cry anymore, you were so tired of it.

You were just so tired.

You looked out your window, the clouds covering the moon. You couldn’t even see the moon, the one thing you had held onto. You wondered if laughing would’ve been best, even if it made you look idiotic.

Deciding that you should at least get two hours of sleep before work, you pulled your blanket over yourself, but not before shutting the windows and drawing the curtains.

You were left alone once again.

You sometimes wondered why you still called. Of course you didn’t expect him to pick up and it was a waste of time but you still did it.

It had been a month since you last called.

The contact mocked you, you wished you had deleted it a long time back. And you had tried so hard to do so, but every time something had stopped you and every time you put it off.

You pressed on it, this time putting the call on speaker, waiting for the voicemail to resound through your room. The stupid little line that he said when introducing himself to anyone, the play on words with the moon and his name.

It never came.

A new voice answered, crackling through the bad network, “Hello?”

Your throat went dry as you swallowed, “Hello, who is this?”

“Mark Lee. Why?”

You dropped the phone, a cold hand creeping around your heart. You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, that feeling of helplessness growing in the pits of your stomach.

You leaned down and picked the phone up with trembling hands, “I’m sorry, wrong number”, you whispered, knowing damn well it wasn’t a wrong number. The guy from the other side chuckled awkwardly, “Hey no problem, I got a new number yesterday so I kind of expected this.”

You responded quickly, ending the call and sighing, a broken sob leaving your lips. You knew this was going to happen one day, you had even expected it, but fuck it still hit you like a truck.

It felt like a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, sucking in air haphazardly, hot tears staining your face as they trickled down. It felt as if you were underwater and someone was holding you there, refusing to let you come up for air.

Honestly, this had lasted longer than you had thought it would. Six months you had been calling Taeil’s number at random times, just to hear his voice, and now his number had finally been given to someone else.

Taeil was gone, and you had to finally face it for real.

It wasn’t the fact that he was gone that was hitting you, you had accepted that a long time back. It was the fact every single piece of him you had held onto was disappearing from your grasp. Of course you had pictures but you were starting to forget his voice.

You were starting to forget how he sounded when he sang, when he spoke. You forgot the name of his favorite song, his favorite food. Did he dance? Maybe he did, but you knew you would forget.

Maybe forgetting was for the best.

You stared at his name through blurry eyesight, everything inside you screaming to stop, to forget. Who was Taeil, why did he matter, who was-

Taeil was the boy you had loved, and the boy you had lost.

Wiping your tears messily, you felt pathetic. Calling someone you had lost even when you knew they would never answer? They couldn’t answer, he couldn’t answer.

“I miss you”, you whispered hoarsely, “Please say something again.”

Silence.

“Tell me you’re the moon”, you begged no one in particular, “Tell me to leave a message, tell me something please.”

Pressing your hands to the sides of your head, you silently asked why it hurt so bad. It felt like a dull pain, that was somehow sharp at the same time. You clawed at your skin, wanting it to stop. Why did it feel so real, so recent all of a sudden?

Picking up your phone, you decided that it would be best if you finally did it.

He had moved on, it was your turn now.

You deleted his number from your phone, forever.

Moon Taeil had died six months ago in a car crash, on the way back home from a party. He had died almost immediately, and no matter what the doctors had tried, he didn’t miraculously survive.

Miracles were a rarity.

For six months, you had called his number, just to hear his voice, to pretend that he was still there with you, sitting beside you and telling you his idiotic jokes. Taeil with his fluffy grin and infectious smile, the thought of him only made you sorrowful.

Every time, you were greeted with voicemail.

#neoculturecafe #kpopscape #nctcreations #nct-writers #czennet #taeil x reader #moon taeil x reader #nct taeil x reader #nct taeil #taeil #moon taeil #taeil angst #moon taeil angst #nct angst #nct 127 #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction

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yandere-society · 3 years

Text

Moonlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Synopsis: Taehyung was a man of many things: handsome, young, rich, the reigning lord of the Kim manor. He was a man adored, a man respected. But beneath the studly exterior, he held a dark, demonic secret that floated towards the surface once every full moon. It was this secret that would unknowingly entangle you in his claws until there was no way out.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Possessive Tae, Werewolves, Kidnapping mention, Sexual assault, Murder, Death, also it’s unedited cause I hate myself

Headline: Beast Of The Night Strikes Again! 2 Dead, Several Injured

Admin: @roses-ruby

The town suffers through another full moon of terror as the one described as the ‘dog beast’ struck again late last night. Lawmen are baffled at the carnage, describing the victims torn limbs and missing hearts as an act- “most definitely inhumane.” Townsfolk have stated that they heard the creature growl and moan for hours on end until it seemingly disappeared near the Kim manor. As for the owner of the manor, Kim Taehyung - an attractive bachelor who inherited his great grandfather’s land - refused to comment and dismissed the claims of such a being as “ludicrous and delusional.” Whatsoever it may be, the fact of the matter is that there is someone or something raging with bloodlust every time the moon shines its brightest and it might just be out for your heart next.

“It is truly incredible how some of the most credible news sources have begun to sound so half-witted these days… ‘attractive bachelor?’ Seems like you’re up for auction in the middle of this tragic incident…”

“It is a small town with unusually large tales…they’ll do anything to sell their trashy story…” He runs his fingers through his long black locks, a small huff of irritation leaving his lips.

“A story that will keep children up past midnight I’m sure…” The older gentleman places today’s paper back on the table and walks up to where the younger stood, matching his distant stare out the window. “The flowers were exceptionally beautiful in this year’s bloom. Such a shame they’ll be dead soon.”

It was a passive observation, one he didn’t have to respond to; however, it was his nature to always hold a firm stance on even the slightest of interactions. He hums in agreement, gazing out towards the colorfully green garden that his study overlooked. But rather than admiring the beauty of the large field, his eyes were instead hooked on a small figure bustling about the grounds in a long black dress.

“Master,” A calm voice interrupted him from his trance, “Shall I adjust your schedule in case you were to head into town today?”

His long-time butler, Seung, bowed quietly in his direction.

“No need.” He replies mindlessly.

“Now, now,” His uncle next him chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “It would do you good to show your handsome bust among the public. Your presence as Lord might provide some comfort…”

As if he should be the one comforting weeping mothers and terrified children.

He was about to decline the smiling face of this man who bore him nothing but animosity, but he was interrupted by his uncle’s careless gaze suddenly modifying into something additionally sinister.

“Or is it that you’re too tired for such a simple task? You look as if you have not slept in ages. Are you doing alright, perhaps?”

Other than the shiver that ran down Taehyung’s spine at his foxiness, he was unfazed by the weighty question. Usually, his feigned concern would make him chuckle, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from last night’s events.

“I’m fine.” He turns to Seung without missing a beat, “Uncle is right. Get the carriage ready, I will be heading into town today.”

“Yes, Master.” Seung bows, but before he could quietly leave the room, Taehyung calls for him again. “And get my Uncle’s carriage ready for departure as well. I am sure at his age he would love nothing more than to be resting at home this very moment.”

There was a small confrontational silence between the senior and him after his loaded remark. But it vanished the very next second when his Uncle began to chuckle loudly, as if there was nothing but mirth between the two of them.

“You are right on the mark, young lad. As sharp as ever I see.” He spins around, walking back to the table he once sat at “I shall be out of your hair soon.”

Taehyung watches him as he picks up the paper he had been scrutinizing before he commences his departure from the chamber.

“Are you perhaps interested in the dog beast?”

“Why, not at all,” He responds calmly, turning to the younger with the same somber expression as before, “I just need some entertainment for the road. Surely, you don’t mind?”

He did not. For now, he desired his uncle’s departure the most. It was not as if he could see his own forthcoming demise stained in the ink of that paper.

Autumn’s cool breeze surrounds your body as you tend to the large grounds of the Kim manor, trimming off uneven stems from a massive rose bush.

“___,” A frantic voice suddenly calls your name, capturing your attention as your gaze falls down onto a petite figure dressed in a similar maid’s uniform running towards you, “___! Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Today’s paper!” Seulgi spoke out of breath, like it was the most obvious thing, “Those men…aren’t they the same lads who-”

“SSHHH!” You hiss, blocking her loudmouth with your palm. Her whines against your hand were similar to that of an adolescent as you whirled your head around the garden, making sure no one was near your vicinity. “I told you not to speak a word of that!”

Seulgi successfully tugs you off of her, “I know! But is it not bizarre? That beast attacked those men!”

“There is no beast!” You growled, “Everyone in town was aware that Wan and his men were good-for-nothing hooligans! They probably wandered into the forest late at night, drunk and belligerent, and attracted a bear!”

“Hmm, perhaps…” Seulgi pouts, “But what about the articles? All those farmers who lost their cattle the same exact way… with their hearts missin-”

“I’m sure those are nothing but carnivorous rodents.” You huff in irritation, picking up the sheers to return to your work. The girl besides you threw a tantrum using her feet, and you wonder when exactly it was that you befriended such a child. “Are you even done with your station or will I have to do that for you again after the Housekeeper is done scolding you?”

This manages to scare her off, and you watch her retreating figure in slight humor before turning back to the rosebush. As you snap another set of leaves, you manage to take a glance at the window of the lord’s study, apprehensively watching his back disappear further into his room.

All you’ve wanted from this manor and its lords was a chance to toil quietly – in peace. Your simple servant status does not offend you, rather it provides you security in relations with the world. You were not interested in meddling with anyone’s affair, especially with those who lived in powerful and dangerous realities. So, it does not matter.

What you saw last night, near the clearing behind the manor does not matter. It had nothing to do with you, and you were planning on keeping it that way.

Lord Kim was annoyed.

Really though, when was he not? As the carriage decelerates into the gates of his estate, his exhaustion only multiplies. Faking a straight face and an empty gaze took its toll on him, even if he had been playing theater his whole life. It was hard enough to keep up with this perfect charade as the lord of the manor, but it had just gotten worse with time…and with the incidents.

He was reluctant to head into town, leer over dismembered bodies and chat with the commissioner, but did so anyway thanks to his uncle’s instigation. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice - any sign of weakness would invite his extended family to sink their teeth and claws into him, wringing him dry within a matter of minutes. His father died too early and Taehyung did not bear a successor yet, so whoever would be the first to either exhaust, kill or seduce him would eventually take his place as lord. After being unfortunate enough to witness countless amounts of cruelty from them since age eight, he knew he had to keep his farce strong.

Common folk would think he was protecting his blessed birthright. But in a deep, hidden corner of his mind, the reality loomed that neither this life nor this manor was blessed in the slightest.

“We’re home, my lord.” His thoughts are interrupted as the carriage stops, the door opening to reveal a flawlessly still Seung waiting for him to disembark.

As he exited his carriage, his shoulders drooping and head spinning, his eyes managed to fall on you in the distance. You stood far away, underneath the stone canopy of the servant’s quarters, next to that bumbling friend of yours with your head bowed as the housekeeper shouted herself silly at the both you. It seems that you have once again found trouble thanks to the petite nitwit by your side.

Yet still, even with your gaze downcast, he could sense the poise in your stance. An aura of composure and self-confidence that has never left your being no matter where you stood, or who stood over you. At first, he just happened to relate to you and the notion of keeping together a tough act. But over time, he came to realize that you weren’t acting at all – that you, a mere servant, were as perfectly assured as you seemed.

It made him envious.

“Master?” Seung pulled him back to reality.

He turned away, scuffing his expensive shoes amongst the gravel to head into the direction of his manor. Yet still, after the small sight of you, he couldn’t help but smile to himself for the first time that night.

“Dinner is served.”

A tray was lifted to reveal a large pot of thick, saucy white soup. He had wanted something light ever since the previous night, and the chef had delivered quite nicely. Taehyung sits patiently, waiting to be served as the maidservants walk into the room with the housekeeper. His eyes immediately land on you out if habit, and he wonders if you were to tend to him tonight. But to his surprise, it’s your friend who comes up to the table to oblige him his dinner instead. She takes a ladle and dips it into the soup – just a minute, she forgot to pick up his soup bowl?

Realizing she forgot the bowl; she looks startled for a bit before she hovers a hand underneath the ladle and walks closer to his direction. He has to try really hard not to burst out into a fit of laughter as he witnesses you shake in fear at her antics. Seems like he was not the only one distracted because the very next second your friend trips over her own foot on the way to his bowl and loses her grip on the soup-filled ladle, which flies towards him.

And in an instant, his whole head was wet and runny with his dinner. It was quiet for the first minute – which appeared to have stretched out into hours for the servants – until many different voices began shouting at once.

“Y-young Master! T-Towel- I shall fetch a towel!”

“MY LORD!”

“My lord! I-I-I apologize I-!”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your face was stiff in horror as you watched the creamy soup drip off his hair. Seung ran back into the room with a towel in his arm as the housekeeper bellowed at your friend.

Before Seung could wipe his hair, Taehyung held his wrist and took the towel into his own hands. Then he stood up, surprising the whole room, even the shrieking housekeeper, shut. He lightly wiped the edges of his bangs for a minute in silence, feeling the wet soup drool into his shirt before he turned towards your friend.

“Well, what a mess…” He stated absentmindedly, watching the girl shrink under his gaze until she became as small as a pebble. She seemed to be trying her utter best not to cry.

“Lord…” A soft, but confident voice interrupted the dead silence of the room. You stepped up next to your friend, your head down as you cleared your throat, “It…It is my fault actually…”

Your friend turns to you in shock. Everyone in the room was now glancing at you; the servants with petrified eyes and Taehyung with amused ones.

“Explain yourself.”

“Th-that…I spoke about the dog beast who was in today’s paper to miss Kang and…and I seem to have frightened her which is why she’s been a bit distracted…b-but it is my fault, so I deserve the punishment.”

“N-no!” You friend suddenly cries in a strained voice and you elbow her to keep shut. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, before complying to your implication with her eyes squeezed shut tight. The servants all held their breath, waiting for the lord’s next move. They all seem to flinch when he sighs,

“…I see…” Taehyung holds in a chuckle, “You’re right miss ___, this indeed seems to be your fault…”

Seulgi quietly whines in her throat and you wish she could for once read your mind and jam her loud trap.

“…Well then,” Taehyung’s deep voice captures your full attention, “Meet me in my room an hour before midnight. I shall decide on your punishment by then.”

No one said anything further, but they all seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing. Even Seung appeared disturbed. But…it just couldn’t be… The lord has never even taken an interest in women much less bed with one. You, too astonished to remember your place, straightened your posture and stared at him straight in the eye for the very first time. There wasn’t any hint of jest or error, which left you further baffled at the Lord’s request.

No, perhaps it was just you who misunderstood.

“Y-yes Lord.” You manage to spit out.

At your approval the lord smiles, which startles you out of your insolence. You return to your humble position as the Lord begins to walk away from the room.

“Seung, prepare my bath.” Taehyung calls out in glee.

“…Yes, master…”

You sigh, standing in front of the thick wooden door of your Lord’s master chamber.

“Well, there goes the goal of keeping from trouble…” You whisper to yourself in defeat. And thanks to that gigantic fool Seulgi, you were late to your own punishment trial. She would not stop crying and apologizing, even though you told her it was now your problem, so she has nothing to be sorry about.

Still, the main dilemma for you in this moment was not her, but your current circumstances. Why were you called out to the Lord’s chamber an hour before midnight? The sensitive time frame would provide anyone the wrong impression, not just you. If he really were to ask you to…bed with him…what then?

You quickly shake your head no. It was not healthy for you to have such thoughts about your Lord. Since adolescence, you had been a reasonable girl who was guided by logic. There was no rationality in this idea and you’re sure Lord Kim had a good excuse for calling you out so late – an excuse that has nothing to do with...whatever you were just thinking. After pulling yourself together with a deep breath, you knock on the wood three times.

“Come in.” You immediately hear, which allows you to nervously turn the handle and push open the door.

There stood Lord Kim, by the end of the bed, in his sleepwear. His hair was a mess of slight, drooping curls, possibly the aftermath of his bath, and his stare was a lot more lax than normal. You gulped quietly under his gaze, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

“You’re late, miss ___.” His voice was deep, but soft. It felt as if he was trying to jester you.

“I-I apologize, my Lord. I was held up by the housekeeper…”

It was a lie and you did feel guilty, but it would also be immensely satisfying to witness that old witch being chided.

“My, my, it seems like she is always after you and that friend of yours,” You could hear what sounded like mischief in his tone, “Which reminds me, she came to speak to me.”

“The housekeeper?”

“No, your friend. She told me you lied for her.”

That was the last straw. You were going to kill that idiot.

“I…I…S…” What were you to say now? Should you apologize for your dishonesty?

“I think it’s commendable.” You were interrupted from your thoughts by your Lord’s words. When you meet his eyes, you see him smiling gently in your direction. “You tried to protect your friend. It takes a good heart for that.”

“Thank you, sire…” You weren’t sure how to adequately respond - if he really was complimenting you. Your uncertainty stemmed from your upbringing; rather than a trait to compensate, behaving and caring for your younger siblings was regarded as your duty. It was also why maid work came so easily to you. And Seulgi, with her childish nature yet endearing personality, reminded you of those you tended to back home, so you considered looking after her a mere responsibility.

“I do like that nature of yours.” He proceeds casually, making you blush. “But I still have to punish you for your dishonesty.”

You nod your head, eyes falling to the floor. Even without gaping at him, you were aware of how strong his gaze was. It was only natural to get disciplined as a servant, but for it to come from Lord Kim himself made you fearful.

“Miss ___, sleep with me.”

Your head whirls up to meet his stare, shock painting your face.

“W-”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Although you’re quite beautiful, I only desire your lap.”

…

What?

“I-” Your Lord stutters, facing away from you and crossing arms in embarrassment, “I just…these days I have been having some trouble sleeping. Many peers have remarked on my dark circles and laxing attitude. This won’t do! As the Lord of the Kim manor, I have to appear fully rested and in the best condition at all times or else.”

He turns back to your direction,

“W…when I was a young lad…I would sleep on my mother’s lap. It was the most comforting of places to me and sleep was never a cause for concern back then. Which is why…I wanted to seek that same comfort once more…so that I may be able to rest heartedly and prepare myself to face the world of politics tomorrow. I just…I was wondering if I could borrow your lap for a few nights?”

It was quiet after his explanation. Your mind gradually processing all the information in his tale. He appeared to be immensely nervous, as if waiting for you to decline. You had to hide your amusement.

“I am ready for my punishment, my Lord.”

The young Lord smiles, which has your heart racing. Surely, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you. Please sit on the bed, near my headboard.” He orders bashfully.

You swung another sheet over the clothing line.

Days had passed since your initial ‘punishment,’ and today would mark the first whole month of you lending your lap to your Lord. Your nightly time with the Lord had become an occurrence you cherished. There was so much you managed to learn about the man who rested on you – like how he scrunches his nose when he encounters a nightmare or how he moans only when he is in his deepest of slumbers. He was different than how you originally imagined; his cold exterior was nothing but a farce. In reality, he was so childlike and so innocent.

So different from other men.

Yes, that’s right, he was nothing like Wan. Remembering that scoundrel had you shivering in your legs from disgust. You usually didn’t have the most pleasant encounters with the men in town, but Wan had been a special case. Although you did not wish to think ill of the dead, there was nothing ever good about that man, and frankly you’re not very upset that he’s gone.

You remember the day much too clearly; it was a week before he would meet his demise. The housekeeper had sent you and Seulgi into town on a shopping errand – she wanted you to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time you went into town for a chore, but it would certainly be the most unpleasant.

As you and Seulgi stepped out of the farmer’s store carrying a load of groceries in a paper bag you held with both arms, you spotted Wan and his friends walking towards you from the opposite direction. They were cackling loudly, drunk in the middle of the day and out of their minds. You paid them no attention, ready to head back to the manor but your unwitty friend stared straight at them until Wan eventually made eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well,” He slurred in your direction, catching your gaze, “If it isn’t the whores of Kim manor!”

Because of his brash nature, everyone’s regard fell on the two of you. You tried to look unfazed by his disgusting behavior, taking Seulgi by the hand and leading her around the men. But Wan interjected your path as his friends laughed on.

“We need to get back. Leave us alone.” You stated calmly

“Why, we won’t keep you for long,” He grinned, and you recoiled from the alcohol in his breath, “Besides, they won’t miss you- them rich folk. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

His friends began to shout and woo, enclosing in on you almost completely, and you could feel Seulgi shaking behind you.

“We need…to get back.” You say once again, cursing at yourself when your voice cracks. Wan throws his head back and laughs as hard as he could while the townsfolk just observe the show. Anger begins to well up alongside the fear and you purse your lips, picking up your feet and tugging Seulgi along.

It didn’t matter if you had to bulldoze through him, you were going to get back to Kim manor no matter what. So you step close, ready to collide into him before he suddenly sidesteps. Thinking he was distracted; you weren’t prepared for his swift movement and you certainly weren’t prepared to feel a hard thwack on your backside. A breath of surprise leaves your throat and the feeling in your arms disappear, which lets the paper bag fall out of your grasp, spilling its contents along the street. You stare at the ground, paralyzed by shock as Seulgi meekly cries out your name.

“Wan, you mad lad!” Someone from his group yells, clasping their hand into his in jest while they all express their amusement at your humiliation. The group aggressively howls, making perverse remarks before eventually continuing down the road, fully disregarding your presence. They left, without any consequences. As if they didn’t just horribly disgrace you.

“___...” Seulgi steps up to your side, crying her eyes out in worry. If this was another time you would console her – scold her for being a crybaby – but at the moment you could think of nothing. You had been a maidservant for almost a decade now and even then, you had never been treated so awfully. What’s worse is that they all saw…they all saw and said nothing.

Not wanting to waste a minute further, you fall to your knees and start gathering the vegetables that fell about. Seulgi calls your name again but you focus on your task. You have to stay composed, you have to stay composed – you repeat it to yourself like mantra. But that sensation of emptiness returns, and you freeze. Before you knew it, you were trembling on the floor with tears streaming down your face and everyone still watched on.

“___.” Seulgi wrapped herself around you tightly. For a moment your fortitude was shattered as you cried in her arms on that dirty street.

Wan was most definitely scum, you conclude with a huff as you finish straightening the laundered bedsheet. But still, you halt, dying the way he did…it’s something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Your mind wanders back to that paper, torn limbs and missing hearts. Could it possibly be related to what you saw that night on the previous full moon? With a frown, you stare up at the sky, watching the whiffs of white clouds swirl through the blue fabric.

“___!” You hear the familiar shouts of your name and turn to see Seulgi running towards you. “___, there you are!”

“What is it this time?” You sigh as she encloses in on you

“___, is it true that you are consummating with the Lord?”

Dropping the sheet out of your hands, you spin towards the loudmouthed idiot, “W-w-w-where did you hear that?”

“The other maidservants were whispering on it,” She replies with an innocent grin, “Is he as good as the rumors say?”

“A-a-a-as the w-what? What rumors- what- consummate- a-are you out of your mind?” You were blushing from head to toe.

Seulgi looks dejected at your response, “So it isn’t true?”

“Of course not!”

“Ohh,” She groans sullenly, “But I guess it would be impossible for a lord to take interest in maidservants like us.”

Your bashfulness vanishes in an instant. She was correct, there is absolutely no reason for you to find yourself special. Lord Kim had made it clear that he has no interest in you, he just requires a lap and is too proud to ask someone close. This was originally a punishment for you and nothing more – you shouldn’t become too attached.

“___?” Seulgi’s voice was low, “Are you alright? You seem down…”

“…I’m fine.” You mutter, composing yourself, “But more importantly…why are you here to ask me about baseless gossip? Are you done with your station? Remember you have to use the right tools- just scrubbing vigorously doesn’t work-”

“Oh my god- yes, yes, yes!” She responds by childishly covering her ears, “I have to use the coil sponge not the foam one, I get it!”

You begin to scold her as she laughs, prancing around the grass without a care. But soon the humor dies down and it was time to return to work. Before she leaves for her station, she makes a passive comment.

“Tonight’s another full moon. In the night of Samhain.” There was something dim about her tone as she gazes up towards the sky. You join her, wondering if she somehow had the same bad premonition as you did.

While you were chatting with your friend, Taehyung was having tea with a man he’d rather throw into a river.

“What brings you here?”

“My, do you sound cold.” His uncle chuckles, taking another sip of his tea, “Am I not allowed to visit my nephew out of fondness?”

“Well, after twenty-so years, consider me surprised.” Taehyung deadpans, which only further humors the elder.

“Perhaps I do have a motive.” He grins for a moment before all signs of amusement vanish from his expression. “I could not help but toil my mind over that paper from before. The townsfolk swore they heard the dog beast growl late into the night before fading behind Kim manor.”

“I thought we agreed the paper was nothing more than gossip fodder.”

“And perhaps that’s all it is.” His uncle’s smile was innocent but held such contempt. “However, as a gentleman who resides in the city, I find myself quite inclined by the mysteries of small towns such as this.”

“What nonsense,” Taehyung scoffs, “Are you saying you wish to investigate this supernatural rubbish the townsfolks gripe about?

“Indeed! The dog beast is nothing but rubbish!” The elder’s laughter was hearty, “But then, there is the question of who killed those men?”

The room was silent, drowning in the animosity the two men felt for one another. Neither one spoke – his Uncle because he had nothing more to say and Taehyung because he felt his throat clogging. He wanted to decline, desperate to splurge words of refusal, but then the fact that he had something to hide becomes too apparent.

“Surely, you won’t mind me staying? Just for one night?”

“Stay as you wish, uncle.”

You were already situated on his bed when your Lord swung the door open.

The sound made you jump, and you immediately rose to your feet to show respect. He began walking towards you in a fast, heavy pace with his feet striking the wood. His face had you unnerved – anger in his frown as well as what you could only describe as dismay in his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to react, you were taken into his arms in a sudden and swift motion.

It left your mind blank.

He squeezed himself onto you, his chest colliding with yours as his scent surrounded your senses. Your arms were hovering his back while your fingers curled into themselves, unsure of your position at the moment. Lord Kim hugged you tight, as if he was afraid.

“M-my Lo-”

“Tonight.” He interjected, muffling into neck as he laid his head on your shoulder, “Do not let me go tonight, whatever you do. Hold onto me as tight as you possibly can, do you hear me? Do not let me wander, I beg you.”

His tone broke your heart. He sounded so frightened – so desperate and you had no clue on how to help him. The Lord has always been the strength of this household. No one had ever witnessed him so distressed, not even at the previous Lord’s funeral. Hesitantly, you placed your fingers against his vertebrate and sat back on the mattress, guiding him gently down with you.

“I won’t let you go, my Lord.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He placed his head on your lap, arms still clinging onto you like a child. His mind seemed to be in the middle of a warzone against himself. The memory of a young man sitting in front of his father’s casket, immobile and silent as a rock, was still so vivid to you. You had only been at Kim Manor for a few months back then, and you remember being disturbed by his attitude – wondering if he had any feelings at all. But after learning about how often his extended family plotted against him, to the point of kidnapping him as an eight-year-old, you began to view that tearless boy with pity.

Watching him tremble in your lap has you reaching out to him. Your digits tread into his soft hair and you slowly move them about to calm his tremors. He seems to respond; his quivers coming to a slight halt at your touch.

You don’t know for how long you rubbed his head, listening to him breath.

You don’t know when you fell asleep.

His whole body was aching as he walked towards the grass, trying to ease the sharp pain in his head.

He had been taught that the best place to alter was out in an open, murky environment. Somewhere you could feel the air on your skin as the patches of hair slit through your pores like needles through fabric. Yet still, somewhere impenetrable through the naked eye. There was an area like so behind Kim manor – a clearing that was connected to a large acre of uninhabited woods. And among those acres laid several swamps and bogs, which formed a thick layer of fog around the grounds of the manor – most prominent on the night of the full moon.

It was the perfect place for him, who had been poisoned with this modification.

With his mind as cloudy as the fog, he thinks back to the first time he witnessed his father alter. He was far too young, a month away from ten, when he was brought out to this clearing and visually counseled on his dreadful future. More than anything he wanted to look away, he did not wish to see his beloved father become this monster, but Seung held his hand tight and told him to hold witness for his very own sake. And he witnessed – witnessed his father thrash about as if he wanted to claw his own brains out and he cried.

He cried along with his father. But there was never any other option for him than to tolerate the dread from his place as heir to Kim manor.

It was always painful, every moment his heart pumped blood into his body, he moaned in agony. While the night raged on, he noticed his panting grew deeper by the second – tone sinking to a gruff growl which rips through his chest. His eyes and sense of smell grew keener, large nails grotesquely rip through his skin and his teeth began to enlarge. The image of the moonlight basking on his skin was the only thing offering him refuge.

If he had a choice, he would have chosen to stay inside with the warm you, stare enchantedly at your resting face like the many instants he’s done before. But his changes weren’t just physical. In this state he was bigger, louder, hairier, teethier – more aggressive. His desire for blood was intense but ever since he met you, so was this raw lust. As a rational man with a sense of morals, this perverse craving ashamed him, yet the beast inside did not care for his customs. It wanted to possess you, every ounce of you, thoroughly. To mate with you in a way that wasn’t meant for humans. Being around you in this condition would break the mental leash he chains this deviant with.

Although every time he alters, he feels it loosening. There was something wrong with him – his father and grandfather were able to restrain the beast from rampaging throughout town. But he, on the other hand, had been consuming the town as his sole hunting grounds for some months now. Which is why the “dog beast,” once a mere legend mentioned every decade, was printed in previous months paper.

It is as if the creature wishes to mock him and the slipping control.

Drenched in sweat and agony, he knew the transformation was almost complete when he suddenly heard a small noise. He immediately spun around and met the petrified eyes of his uncle.

Neither of the men spoke – both gaping at each other with pure, unfiltered fear. The chill of the night establishes its presence in the worst moment possible. Taehyung was afraid for reasons too many, none he could not lucidly list. He recalls what occurred the last time the beast was enraged by someone and he desperately wishes not to hurt anyone ever again in this form.

Opposite from him stood his uncle, wondering just one thought out of an infinite. How does a normal man, one untouched by the knowledge of this being, react in this situation?

A normal man would run. A normal man would cower in fear. A normal man would beg for his life. But he, the rightful heir to the manor, declined to let this young bastard trample him in such a way. It wasn’t that his uncle was a man without fear. And it wasn’t that he held great courage either, but rather, the very oxygen that burned through him was fueled purely by his stubbornness. He has spent the majority of his life trying to crush first his brother and now his nephew, so when this chance has presented itself so deliciously, he refuses to let it slip through his fingers.

“Y…” His voice was hoarse, throat achingly dry, “What are you?”

Taehyung stands there quietly, unresponsive to the question. Although he was the larger one, he felt so scared and so small. No one had ever spoken to him in this form which is why he was unsure of what to do. He had been a fool, he thought if he could sleep in your arms and you held him tight, he would be able to stop himself from altering tonight.

But now he understood, there was nothing that could.

“You killed those men.” His uncle continues, all on his own. As if he’s suddenly reached enlightenment.

“You do not…understand…” Taehyung shakes his head like a child about to be punished. He didn’t mean to kill anyone. He’s never hurt someone in his whole life. That night, on the previous full moon, it all occurred without any of his own authority.

Taehyung was a despicable man. Wan had hurt you, and he saw it. But rather than step in and intervene – rather than protect you from that scum – he instead just stood by and watched it transpire. No matter how many times he thinks back to it, no matter how often he racks his brain for an answer, he still does not understand why he did nothing. Perhaps he was paralyzed from his own traumas and forced himself to retain his composure – however the beast did not care for his pathetic reasons. It taunted him the whole week leading up to the full moon. Hurt him with insults he knew he merited.

“You’re weak.” It growled, “Weak and puny. I shall protect her myself.”

And then, for the very first time, Taehyung took the life of another human being without any cognizance. What’s worse is that he enjoyed it. That thought alone petrifies him.

“No, I do not understand you. And I do not wish to.”

“Please…” Taehyung begged as he held out his deformed hand to plead with the elder. Did this man think Taehyung desired this life? Did he think he desired this hundred year old curse - originating from a place long before his time - that was forced upon him and on any man who dared to reign over Kim manor. Perhaps despicable, but Taehyung was still softhearted. The reason why he tried so hard to keep his title as Lord was so that no one else would further suffer this abomination, even if it concerned his bastard uncle.

And it’s also the reason he made peace with dying alone, without a bride and without children. He was meant to stand alone. That is...until he met you.

“How dare you. How dare you grovel to me, you servant of the devil.” The disgust and venom in his uncle’s tone made him recoil.

“No-” It was only a matter of time before the beast consumed him whole and he was certain, like before, it would not spare any mercy. The adversity is something Taehyung direly yearns not to repeat.

“I shall bring the priest and the commissioner. I shall tell them what you did. You shall be brought to justice for what you did to those men. You shall suffer in hell when they burn you at the stake!”

“Please- uncle- please listen TO ME-” He clasped his claws against his mouth when his voice became utterly inhumane. The beast was crawling out of his throat and his sanity was slipping. No longer was he able to see what was in front of him and once again he began to fade, like he did all those times before.

“Run!”

Taehyung with the last of his conscious tried his hardest to warn the man and take a dash for the woods but it was far too late.

The last thing he heard was his uncle’s shrill scream, and then all silence for him.

You woke up to a thump.

Or at least you were certain that was what you heard as you sit up on the bed. Your vision was groggy, mind still half asleep as you look in the direction of the sound’s origin. For a minute it was soundless, and then there was another thump. You weren’t sure what it was, but you stood up nonetheless, slowly walking towards the door. Still unaware of your surroundings, you stop in front of the wood, distracted by your own dizziness.

In the tranquility of the room, you caught a noise so faint, you thought perhaps you were still in your nightmare from before. It was immensely faint, but you heard it. The rapid breathing behind the door. Unhurdled by emotions such as caution and reasoning for once, you swung the door open in confusion. And as soon as you did, your own awareness came back to you at full force.

A clothless man stood before you, covered from head to toe in blood and gore. Your breath was stuck in your throat, eyes widening into saucers once you saw the length of his fangs. It took you a full minute realize that it was Lord Kim.

“W…what…” You step back in horror. Perhaps you were still dreaming.

The fear had snuck up around your waist and grabbed you by the throat, leaving you without the ability to move. He gazed at you with eyes that were a bright yellow, yet darker than any man’s you have ever looked into. Your orbs travel down his body as you absorb in his abnormal height, his ripping muscles, his long fingernails and…and his hand.

There was a heart. In his hand, he gripped a fleshy and large organ and you knew it was a heart.

Missing hearts.

“Nooo…please.” You quiver, crying without him ever speaking a word. All signs of alarm were raised in your mind and you don’t even remember what it was for that you came here. Only Seulgi’s words about the dog beast reigned in your ear. The world was spinning as your Lord…as he began to walk towards you. Your life started to flash by your eyes, and you closed them shut tight, so you would no longer have to witness this terror.

“Shhh.” You heard a deep growl before you felt cold and abnormally large fingers on your face. A gasp escapes your throat as he caresses your cheek.

The next thing you knew, you were floating. Your eyes flew open and you saw yourself being carried by him. There was no moment for you to react, as you were subsequently placed upright onto the bed. No longer restrained by his arms, you shifted about in a frenzy.

“Ah…uh…”

“You are mine.” He states as if it was a fact.

Then he comes over you – wrapping his enormous, dirtied limbs around you as you squeak. He lays his head in your lap and you feel the tears leave your eyes as he yet again resembles your Lord. What you had thought of as just a hallucination from the fog was actually reality. That night, on the previous full moon, you woke up and strolled the grounds to clear your head of Wan. It was then that you saw the most horrid of things – you saw a giant dog shrink into a small human who resembled the Lord.

And you had told yourself lies. Told yourself it wasn’t true and told yourself to forget. But all logic was failing you now as a creature from hell winds down on your very own body. You muffle your cries and fear – too afraid to awaken the beast.

Taehyung laid peacefully in your arms; his mind detached from every other thing that did not concern you. The heart he held in his hand had stopped beating a long time ago, but he could still feel it slipping through his fingers. He is not sure, even as a beast, as to why he takes the hearts of victims. Perhaps it has something to do with how it’s his heart that hurts more than anything else each time he alters.

Well, it did not matter now, he thinks as his perception starts to drift. Nothing mattered at the moment – not the heart, nor his uncle’s body, not even your reaction. For this moment, more than anything, he just wants to rest.

To sleep, in your lap, under this cold, beautiful moonlight.

________

A/N: Okay so I really hate this I apologize. I had intended for it to be longer but well :) October has officially been 2020′s busiest month for me...but I hope you enjoy this garbage lmk what you thought!

#bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #taehyung x reader

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #romance

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iamdarkness · 3 years

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Letters from Fodlan.

(Not Sent.)

The accounts of the missing parts in To Feed a Tiger

These are Dimitri’s memories of those missing parts in forms of letters never sent to you. A/N at the end.

This is Feral Dimitri POV.

Chapter one.

Now that I have left Askr to try my luck to beat destiny; I want to thank you for everything you have done for me. I want to gift you my memories of the events that changed me for ever that had to do with you and them. This is the account of the times I encountered Lif, including the times I never told you, I witnessed for fear you would think badly of me.

Then I gain I was in a bad place at the time and making bad decision. I am very aware that I can not send this to you ______, but I still want to put these memories to paper and preserve them for the time being. Then one day when I am a king and my battles done, we will meet each other again and then I will be able to tell you my self about this…And we will see each other again, of this I am sure. I will not bend or break. I must prevail and save my people and my self.

The first night I saw him was the night you game me leave to use Corrin’s tree house. The half dragon had come to Askr in a bad state of mind and considered himself a danger to everyone. You had commissioned a tree house for him to live in, not too far away from the castle complex. It was a cabin proper but high up and propped up by four high trees. Prince Alfonse had been the one who wanted it that big you told me later. I suppose he liked the stories Corrin told you all of his childhood and his tree house. I can see the prince coming to spend some time away in here tom relax…but I digress.

That had been a dark night. The moon was half full and there were groups of clouds lazily moving across it, blocking its light by intervals. That had been also the night you had come to visit me. That small act of kindness, had been the start of my recovery. The light at the end of the long tunnel of darkness. You had brought me dinner and I had done the best to get you to keep your distance but you never judged me. You stayed until I was ready to leave. I was in truth reluctant to do so. I felt you could understand my pain. You offered me apologies for intruding in my life, when you were right to do so and then you offered me a safe heaven where I could heal. You trusted me to follow you into the darkness of the night, to the woods, where the tree house I was to stay in was located and hidden. You knew what I could do and still you trusted me. I thought you foolish at the time, but this trust was what has kept me alive. After you left me to go back to the tree house I spent some time “conversing with the dead” as my hallucinations would not give me rest.

After I had lost my eye my other senses had sharpened with the exception of taste. I heard the heavy steps of an armored unit make his way through the forest and as it neared the house I looked out the window. The house was high up and magically hidden as you had said, so I was invisible to the person below. My demons were never physical and even in my poor mental state I knew he was real, but it could not be so. He glowed brighter than the moonlight and a bluish color. His piercing red eyes searched the night for what I did not know. For a second I thought Death himself had come to get me and punish me for my sins. I could feel the rage and hate emanating from his blade like poisonous miasma, but he was not looking for me. The next thing I thought was that this was a spy and that he was wearing some strange armor that had some hidden virtue.

I went down as silently as I had learned to move in my later years. He was, I suppose not expecting anyone around and was too distracted with his thoughts to detect my presence. Near the border of the fores he started to move in silence too. He moved like a predator; the same as I.

Before he reached the edge of the woods he covered his glowing chest and mask, but before he did so I got a glimpse of his chest. I could see his ribcage inside the armor and the glowing matter was akin to water or crystal. It looked so in my eyes at least at the time. Once again I thought he could not be real, that he was a phantom made real to torment me and take away the only person in this world who had been kind to me. So I waited to see what he would do. If he was a spy come to do any harm I would finish him and if he was indeed a phantom I would still defeat it, or die trying.

He stayed there in the darkness looking in at the light of the torches and the guards patrolling. He did not see to be surveying or to even care for the pattern of the guards. Then it happened. He tensed up and seemed to see something far away. It was two figures who had come from around the corner. It was you and Alfonse. He seemed to melt into tree he was hiding behind. I was about to pounce on him when you started singing softly. Your voice carried to where his hidden form trembled with a hidden emotion. The way he said your name, send shivers down my spine. It was the the prayer of the dying. The emotions in that sole word…Devotion, longing, sadness, love…

Not too far from where you and I had sat you stood talking to a guard. They were giving their reports, not aware of the two persons intruding on their useless watch.

-Do you want to go to the library and drink some tea?- You ask Alfonse.

-It is late. Are you not tired?- Asked the prince.

- It’s never too late to drink tea with you.- You say smiling while your hand touches his, almost by accident but his hand hand reacting at once catches your fingers in his. At this distance I can see him blushing hard.- But if you are tired…

-No!- He answers faster than necessary, but he does not seem to care.-We should take it in the study. That way we can go right to sleep after.- You nod and the both of you turn to leave. Such an innocent, yet intimate exchange.

-Alfonse.

The stranger moved and my attention had returned to him. He had said the name with such hate and sadness. No… Not hate.. it felt more like jealousy. His Gauntlet-ed hand had carved the surface of the tree with its metal nails. He made to follow as you walked away, but he stayed in place. When you turned the corner he turned away but stayed a while. His figure leaned on the tree while he covered his face with one his hands.

I turned away then. I felt I was intruding on a pain beyond what I had ever experience and too personal to witness. I only looked again when he made to leave. He uncovered his chest and face then and looked at the moon. From behind the mask the words of your song reached me with the voice of the specter. The whisper low and sad.

-If I could,then I would…I’ll go wherever you will go…

He came back a few nights later and I noticed that it was always the nights you were out on patrol.He had memorized your schedule it seemed. I got the idea, that even though he was jealous of Alfonse, he did not seemed to care for him or tried to harm him. There were nights when the prince would do a round by himself and the specter never came those days. I learned later that Alfonse was doing Sharena’s patrol since she had been working with the refugees and my specter friend had taken to spying her at town during the day,

Then came the night my hallucination returned while we were talking during my dinner. You looked so sad that day and it sobered me up to see how haunted you were by the deaths you felt you had caused. You took responsibility instead of denying it, the way cowards always did. I knew then you felt the same way I did, but where I had become a monster you were becoming a light. I felt I should warn you about him. He was surely coming tonight and you were warned.

Still I new you were not going to resist and that after my show of lunacy you would dismiss my warning as a product of my mind. I waited for him, hidden by the edge of the woods where he always hid to see you.

He appeared again from deep within the woods. His slow determined walk turned quiet and again he covered his glowing chest and face. He stood there like I had seen him the previous nights. By the talk we had had earlier I guessed now that this was Lif, the person that had helped you before, but I was still unsure.

Thankfully my demons were quiet that night and I was able to keep my sanity while this happened. The time when you came from around the corner of the building arrived. You were talking to Prince Alfonse and your hand movement reflected it was a quite emotional subject. Since I was closer to the clearing this time I could hear you better that the last time.

-Luckily the potion was created fast and it is very safe.- I could hear the voice of the prince and his tone was almost soothing.

-Yes. Even then I can’t help but worry about him not wanting to take it.

-Why wouldn’t he take it? He must know you are only trying to help him.

-He may not Alfonse. Most people that have this kind of psychological trauma and have hallucinations think they are real and there is no convincing them of the truth. I fear Dimiti may not understand that he is sick and that his demons are only the product of his sick mind. I worry so much about him Alfonse… I can’t…I don’t want him to die..

This is when I noticed you were talking about me. What I felt at the realization was a jumble of feelings coming at me so fast it gave me mental whiplash. I was surprised at first and then I felt cold anger that you would think everything was just my imagination. I felt invalidated in my pain. Part of my mind, the one that was sick and delusional told me you did not believe me and did not care for me the way I had thought. But the part of my mind that had been touched by your efforts told me this was not the truth. I knew I was sick; and I knew I had been sick even before this. I had been told this so many times and I didn’t want to listen. What was worst was that my position as a prince meant that it was easier to ignore my mental problems than to risk their positions and this way the problems went unchecked until it was too late. Still, here there was a way for me to get better and people that cared for me. It made me feel a wave of warmth I had not felt since my childhood.

-We will come up with a way to help him. Don’t worry.- He says softly and takes your hand. I hear a gasp from my right where the person watching you lays in wait.

-Oh Alfonse. I am so sorry to drag you in. You keep telling me to not get close to the heroes and I know it is because you got hurt, but …

-I have to learn to let go or I will never grow… but it is hard..

-That’s because when you care for someone you give them your heart. You are so passionate Alfonse…You don’t do stuff by halves and that is the reason…-You let the silence end your sentence as you both stay watching one another. The steps of the guards may have been what brought your attention back to reality.- Any way…Yeah you better learn to let go or your future children will suffer for it.- You say with a laugh. He is taken aback by this and is visibly flustered.

-What? My kids… erm…the things you say _____.

-It’s true! I can see you not letting them marry until they are 40.

-Not true.- He says and he sounds so young,- Forty years are a perfect time to get married.

-Alfonse are you getting married until you are forty? Because I am not waiting that long.-You say and turn around to engage a guard. The prince stand there rooted to the spot with an expression between happiness and bashfulness.

-I would marry you right now…- He says too softly for you and the guard to hear but I could hear them because he was closer to the tree line and because these words were echoed by the man standing near me at exactly the same time.

The prince then joins you and the guard to take the reports and after a while I see you step aside and watch the place where we have dinner every night. Then you turn to the moon now past full and the soft words of a song start to fall from your lips.

- Come to my window…crawl inside and wait by the light of the moon. Come to my window… I’ll be home soon…I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath. And I would stand inside my hell and hold the hand of death.- The reaction to the song was quite visible. Knowing I had told you someone would be coming, it felt to me like an invitation and it was plain he had taken it as such. But the words that had followed had truck him harder than the first. From where the prince was standing he gave you a look that seemed at the time unreadable to me at the moment. Now I know that he knew what you were doing. There was not much that would escape his sharp mind.- You don't know how far I'd go to ease this precious ache end you don't know how much I'd give or how much I can take. Just to reach you…

-Ready? - He asked you suddenly ending your quiet singing. He looked troubled. You nodded and went to meet him to get back. Your patrol had ended. When they were at a distance I saw him lean to your ear and say something to which you shrugged in return.

I looked back at him. He had one knee on the ground and he was leaning on the tree.It took some time but finally he got up and took some time to move. I suspect he was making up his mind about something.

As you know I am quite tall and most of the time it takes some effort to be hidden well from all angles, but in my last years I had leaned well how to do so. I had sat among some leafy bushes between two trees.These bushes protected me from all sides. I was lucky they did as he did not walk in the same direction in which he went when he left the earlier times. He walked past me along the Western side of the grounds due North and I could see he was too distracted to notice me in my hiding spot. There was resolve and purpose in his steps and there was fire in his shinning crimson eyes. It was as if life had once again entered his being.

If I was correct he was trying to get to your room that overlooked the central gardens and he had to get past the stables and the guards to do so. He seemed to have a very detailed outline of the castle and the location your room. I supposed then he had been in there before as a guest, but if he was an ally why hide from view? Had he done something to fall out of grace with the Order?

He hesitated before going past the stables and I soon understood why. I could hear the beasts grow restless as if sensing his presence. I heard Gerome talking to Minerva and asking why she was behaving this way. He stopped and listened for the hero’s presence. Indeed Gerome came out and talked to the guard who agreed to search for the source of the unrest. While they were at it the stranger had gone past the guards and crossed the grounds towards the entrance to the inner gardens. He was as agile and stealthy as a ninja.

I decided then to come out of the shadows and let them think it had been me all the while the source of the beasts unrest. I knew if the stranger did something against you it would have been all on me, but I was sure I could stop him if it was necessary.

They saw me and asked me what I was doing, but a look in their direction shut them up. They knew who I was and I felt no need to explain myself to no one in any case. Lucky for me the stranger was already gone inside and had not heard the exchange. Once in the garden I too took to the shadows and surveyed the place. The gardens are vast as you well know and it took me a long time to locate my target. I found him by some rose bushes near the entrance to the entrance to the room complex where your room was located. He sneaked past the door and on to the side of the building until he came to the side of the camellia tree surrounded by laurels just under the balconies of your rooms. As expected there was no light in your room,nor the the prince’s. Instead of climbing up he waited in the shadows of the trees.

I don’t know if you remember coming out to your balcony that night. Your light came on and after a while you came out of the room. You stayed there a while looking sadly at the gardens. He came out of the shadows to look at you and the soft and deep whisper of his voice reached me. I could not make out everything he said but I heard something like “… is the sun(1).” and as he talked to himself he quietly questioned if he should speak to you, light in the prince’s room went out. You went inside then. After a while he went out again and after looking over for prying eyes he climbed the wall to your balcony. By then I suspect you were asleep.He peeked inside and opened the door, but before going inside he paused unsure of his actions. He tried leaving but again he could not resist and opened it again and went inside. I was ready to climb and tear him apart if he was doing something untoward but just was soon as he went inside he had come out. He took out a flower he had taken from the garden and left it on the rail of the balcony…then he took it again and squished it in his hand. I found out later that he had placed a single kiss on your forehead and it had taken all of his will power not to spend the night watching you sleep.

He sneaked out then and I did not follow. There were so much I needed to think about that night. Not only about the stranger but about what I had heard you say. That night I decided to give it a chance and try the potion I knew you would offer. The first thing I did that morning was take a bath in the gelid waters of the river that ran close to the tree house. I still feel shame about this but my logic was that by not being inviting to the senses I felt safer. It was an extra shield for me and if it made my enemies fear me then it was for the better.

Knights later when it was again your turn to patrol I learned the prince was not going to be available to accompany you. I knew there were plenty heroes who would want to go patrolling with you, including my other selves who were very protective of you and the Fell Dragon whom you and Alfonse had almost adopted (2). I did not even offered to go out with you since I was ready to watch from the shadows and I wanted to see what the stranger would do now that you were alone.

I watched over you from the beginning of your patrol. Even when stood outside in the garden looking up at the prince’s balcony and threw a small stone at the glass door, even knowing he would not be in there. I went to my spot near the clearing. Now with a cleared mind after taking the potion you had offered me it was easier to make better choices. I could not believe I had let him go so far as to get inside your room the nights prior. I was thinking of confronting him tonight and I was in for a big surprise when you appeared in the distance.

The stranger had been waiting in the same place as before. Looking at him and knowing you were alone made wish he would not be wearing that mask. I knew by the glowing in the mask that part of his face was made from the same matter as his chest and I was not only curious to see his facial bones but mostly his expression when he saw you coming.

Then you came and waited for the guards to report and stayed for a while writing down something on a small book. When the figures of the guard were gone you put the book inside your coat pocket and turned to fave the tree line. Unknown to me you had come earlier with Alfonse and had searched for signs that would let you know if he had come. Alfonse had found the scratches in the tree and so you knew where he would be hiding.

You started walking towards us not knowing I was also hiding nearby. He seemed to panic for a second when we heard you speak. They were the lines of a poem I only remember but little.

- “ Stay Shadow of my shy treasure. Image of the charmer I love best. Fair dream for which I die with joyful breast. Illusion sweet for which I live in pain…”

He steps back and a shaky “No” leaves him, but he is now frozen in place as your figure enters the line of trees. You were guided by the sign of the scratches he had left on the tree so many nights ago.

-“ It matters not that you slip through chains and embrace… when fantasy builds a prison just for you.” (3) - Now that you were standing just in front of him, his demeanor changed. It is as if he was steeling himself to fight. A fight I guessed then, that was against his feelings and one that was already lost.

-Those words should be saved for Alfonse and I am not him.

-You came to visit the other night.- You tell him, dismissing his words. He keeps quiet a moment.

-I had an invitation. One you should not have given lightly.

-I am glad you took it. I’ve wish to see you for a while…and I had thought it had been a sweet dream.

-Why? I almost killed you and Alfonse. You should fear me and stay away from me.

-I do not blame you for that; and it was you who saved us all in the end. I owe you everything.

- It wasn’t just me who…

-Alfonse please!

-Don’t…not anymore...- He starts to say but your head leans on the glowing chest he had failed to keep covered. His arms jerk forward as if to embrace you, but he keeps them away.

Until this point I had been confused by this interaction. Your words had been meant for a lover and I had thought you loved only Alfonse. Anger was beginning to seep into my heart. I had thought you better than so easy to flirt with another. Flirting while having a love so heartfelt and pure as the prince’s. Then hearing you say his name with such love made the truth sink in. You had talked about another Askr and that there was someone who had helped you defeat Hel called Lif. If this young man was the person that helped you and his real name was Alfonse and this meant that this man was that Askr’s prince Alfonse. All the pieces to my puzzle now fit perfectly. Now I understood how he new everything so well in the castle. It had been his home.

-Can only Thrasir call you that now?

Your words held no reproach, but his answer came in the form of his left hand caressing your head. His battle was truly lost.

-I have words for him as well. Love and Innocence being some of them. Sometimes I feel I am polluting him.- There is a smile and fondness in your statement.

-You think him pure…when he worships your memory every night before sleep and gilt takes him? Only to dream of you again.- I heard your gasp and your head turns upward to see his face. He does not flinch from your gaze, even after that personal revelation. I take it you understood he had done this as well.

-You…

-Every night.- He responds still not flinching. Your face is scarlet red. You lower your dead to his chest again. (4)

-He…He’s the perfect gentleman with me. He barely touches me. Sometimes I feel like I am back in square one with him, but I don’t want to rush him if he is not prepared for more.

-Fool…- He says with little venom and he takes to caress your cheek.- Why does he not act on his feelings? Was I this foolish myself? Yes…I lost so much precious, time I could have spent with you…You could both die any minute …has he learned nothing from my past?

- You kind of told us and I quote "Get close to someone, and the pain of parting will be much more acute. You and Alfonse must remember this."

-I meant the heroes.

- I know this, but I think Alfonse took it more seriously. He still think I will go back to my world despite me telling him I will stay.

-Fool...If only you were mine…- I saw him change again. He let go of you and even tried to repel you.-But you are not…My ______ is gone for ever… I need to go. I should have never come back here. This is not my place and you are not mine.

-Alfonse…Lif- You change the name when he flinches away from you.

- There is nothing I can offer you…nothing I can give you…Alfonse…how I envy him…

-What is it that you think I want from him that you can not give me yourself?

-...I don’t even have a heart to give you now…- He turns to leave.

-Time…Time and friendship…That is all I ask…That is all I asked from the beginning.

-I could never be your friend.

-Please, I just want to help you…

-Help me? How? I don’t need your pity or your friendship…I want...-He was about to leave but turns around and looks at you. He slowly takes off his mask and approaches you again. I could see he was waiting for you to flee or to be disgusted. I when I could no even see bone or teeth inside where his jawline would be. Whatever he though you would do however, he did not expect for you to take his face in your hands like it was a precious treasure. -So much more than that…- He finished in a whisper. Once enthralled by your caress, he leaned over and kissed you.

That kiss…How I longed then to be touched so lovingly, the way you kissed him then. He barely touched your lips, but you circled his neck with you arms and he deepened it while his arms sough to embrace you by the waist. Your hands tangled in his hair and I imagined how they would feel in mine. The moan of need that left his throat, appeared to have brought him to his senses once again and he let go.

-I love you…I may not have a heart, but I love you with everything I have and I will continue to love you for ever…But so does he and I will not break his heart. If only one of us can be happy, then let it be him. Happiness was not made for me.

-I love you too, Alfonse. Whatever form you take…but you are right… it is not his fault and it is not fair for neither of you. Forgive me for my selfishness.

-Now go before the guards return and raise the alarm…He will be waiting…

-Where will you go?

-Does it matter?

-It matters to me…to us. You can always return here.

-There is…I have no place here. Now go.

You sigh, say your farewell and leave. He watches you go and he puts his mask on again after touching his translucent lips with a sigh. After your form is gone from sight he turns and leaves. It may have been my imagination ____, but it seemed to me like his form did not look as somber or sad as before.

I confess that… I felt jealousy of that love. No only your love for him but his love for you. He loved you beyond death and you loved him beyond appearances. In my life no one had loved me so. Yet you were giving me a part of your heart as Alfonse his friendship and Lif his pain. It had to be enough for me.

A/N: Since Alfonse is a very intelligent man who loves to read and acquire knowledge, I am sure he asks the Summoner often about all kinds of stuff that the summoner has learned in their world. If the summoner can speak more than one language, he would be asking the summoner how to say or write different words and phrases because he loves languages as you can see by him being a lost language translator. He remembers much of it because he has nearly perfect memory and loves the summoner very much that he tries hard to remember everything; specially the summoner’s favorite lyrics to songs poems or quotes from different media. Because The summoner does not share his perfect memory many of the quotes are not nearly exact and so I paraphrased quotes because this way the Summoner seems more like our real self who does remember parts of something but can’t access goggle to find the right quote.

MY summoner is indeed Lif’s summoner as well. When the time line broke apart, she became two but when Lif’s Summoner died her part of the soul returned to the point when the time line broke, memories and all.

(1) “ What Light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and ____ is the sun.”

“Should I listen for more, or should I speak now?”

Romeo and Juliet.

(2) I love Grima and sometimes I feel like this dear dragon is still that child who is lashing out after being abused and neglected and knows no better.

(3) Full Poem.

Stay Shadow of my shy treasure. Image of the charmer I love best.

Fair dream for which I die with joyful breast.

Illusion sweet for which I live in pain.

Your winning graces all my heart enchain,

It follows as the steel, the magnet’s test.

But wherefore you win my love and made me blest.

If thou must mock me, fading soon again.

Yet canst thou never boast, with fullest pride,

That triumphant o’er me is thy tyranny.

For though thou from the dose embrace doest glide.

That held thy visionary form from me,

But fancy builds a prison still for you.

Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz. Paraphrased in actual text for plot reasons.

(4) Alfonse taking Lan Zhan words to heart. “ Every night is every night” Lan Wanji Master of Demonic Cultivation XD . Sorry I could not resist.

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