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morningstargirl666 · 2 years

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Morningstar’s Rec List

Part 1 - Canon Divergence

To celebrate @klarolineauseason I’ve piled together all the fics I know and love into one place, to share with y’all. I’ve tried to include the well-known classics in the fandom that I adore, but also some more obscure ones. Hopefully there are some you haven’t read!

Deal of a Lifetime by Anya-Paradox

One-shot. Caroline meets Klaus when she’s still human, while on vacation with her father. They have a summer fling while she’s still sixteen, and a few years later after going their separate ways, she finds out ‘Nick’ is actually Klaus Mikaelson, the same guy who’s trying to kill her friends. I loved reading this fic, as it captures all the innocence of Caroline at sweet sixteen and falling for her first love, but also the character development that comes in their years apart, and how Caroline is a little older, a little wiser when she meets Klaus next. She’s in love with Klaus, but she’s not about to let him walk all over her. She’s worth being put first. And she knows it.

O’Holy Night by BelleMorte180 / @bellemorte180

One-shot. Another ‘Caroline meets Klaus early’ au. However, this time she’s a freshly turned vampire, confused and alone, forced to relive everything Damon did to her as the compulsion slowly wears off now she’s no longer human. Klaus finds her before her friends do, and it changes everything. At first, Caroline is aware she’s just a pawn in Klaus’ game, but as they spend more time with each other and Caroline learns of what Klaus wants - and he of who Caroline Forbes really is - this begins to change. It’s a beautifully crafted fic, and I loved how it slowly had them fall for each other, even though it’s only around 30k. And hey, because it’s one of Erica’s fics, you know Damon will get his due in the end. 😈

Their Nightly Ritual by bellyamywinchester

Multichap. Complete. Now this? This has to be my favourite canon divergence fic EVER. Dear god, it’s so good. It’s quite an old fic now, and it may not be a 500k enemies to lovers slowburn that you read at 3am, but it gives just as much serotonin for your brain. Set right after 5x11, Caroline is at college and Klaus has kept his promise to walk away and never see her again. But we all know Klaus - he’ll find a loophole if there is one. And fortunately for us, the loophole turns out to be he promised she would never see him ever again - he never specified about never hearing his voice again. And so, begins an exchange of nightly phone calls where Klaus asks Caroline about her day. Both of them are never even in the same room throughout the entire fic, but somehow this author has captured every nuanced aspect of Klaus and Caroline’s relationship, the insecurities on both sides, the struggle Caroline has in allowing herself to love Klaus and the easy love Klaus bestows her in contrast. It’s just a masterpiece. Go read it.

like a wedding dress needs dirt by coveredinthecolours / @definedareasofuncertainty

One-shot. This is so beautifully written, honestly fills me with joy. The concept and ideas behind this fic are so original too - it’s certainly nothing I’ve seen before. Fresh from leaving Stefan at the alter, Caroline spends her wedding day in a graveyard, burying her past life of make-pretend. Klaus is there, simply because she asked him to be, like always, and the fic ends hopefully, promising a new beginning for our favourite otp.

The Way Back by Cupcakemolotov / @cupcakemolotov

Two-shot. Complete. Another treasure. Having spent a near-distant future with Klaus only for it to end in tragedy, Caroline ends up sent back into the past by Bonnie to fix things before they go so very wrong. Little does she know, she wasn’t the only one sent back in time.

the guilty ones by grim grace

Multichap. Complete. Probably one you’ve already read as its a fandom classic, but amazing all the same. Caroline falls in love with Klaus without knowing he’s Klaus, and as always, things spiral from there.

Give Me Love and it’s follow up Love Interruption by idiot-wind89

Multichap. Complete. A classic canon divergence au in the sense it diverges directly from canon, Caroline and Klaus becoming endgame. To this day, I still vividly remember a scene in this fic where Klaus takes Caroline horse riding, when she’s supposed to be distracting him from her friends’ plots. Which is why I blame this author entirely for my obsession to read as many fics with these two interacting with horses, or riding together once more.

Til I Tasted You by KiryTheStitchWitch / @kirythestitchwitch

Multichap. Recently completed! Bonnie completes a spell to find Caroline’s mate, both of them expecting it to be Tyler and well - you already know how this goes. There is a magnificent quote from Klaus in this fic that honestly had me swooning: “As if I could be jealous of a boy who has no concept of what it is like to touch the sun and then spend a millennium looking for daylight in every strangers’ face.” Like. Take a moment to let those words sink in. Like dear god. Klaus you smooth motherfucker - thank you Kiry, for forever ruining my expectations for men, I hope you’re proud.

Blood and a Quick Murder (and isn’t this how it always is?) by KS_Caster / @ks-caster

One-shot. Has to be one of my favourite one-shots in the fandom, due to its originality and the utter brilliance of it all. Through magical hijinks, Caroline ends up human again and goes straight to Klaus, asking for his blood and a quick murder - hers. This fic showcases the differences between Caroline and her friends, how they always hated vamprism while she never regretted becoming a vampire, despite it not being her choice. It also sees Caroline finally arrive in New Orleans. What more could we ask for?

Red Queen by KS_Caster / @ks-caster

Multichap & Series. Part 3 of the series is still a WIP, but parts 1 & 2 are complete and waiting to be read. This was probably one of the first klaroline fics I read, and it still holds up now, years later. I love it immensely, mostly because it explores so much with the characters. There’s some in depth lore of the author’s own making, Klaus doesn’t shy away from his werewolf side which I ADORE OKAY and Caroline is pretty badass too, seeing through Silas’ lies. Klaus also puts Caroline first, seeking The Cure for her in order to save her from dying, rather than for his own ends. It’s an amazing series, highly recommend.

not for him a watery grave by MyLadyElise

Multichap. Complete. This is a lovely what if au for 3x21. The Mystic Falls gang succeeds in dropping Klaus at the bottom of the ocean, and while her friends celebrate the victory, all Caroline can feel is a paralysing wrongness to it all. So she calls Rebekah, and then she plans a rescue. Absolutely love the idea of this one, go check it out.

The Stubborn Grace of Being Loved Regardless by perfectpro / @helpless-in-sleep

One-shot. I will scream about this fic til the end of my days and then I will scream some more because it’s too fucking perfect, seriously Jenn. How did you come up with this piece of pure perfection? Unlike in canon, Caroline doesn’t become a vampire in this fic and instead becomes sidelined from her little group of friends, kept out of the loop about supernatural drama. Which is probably for the best, as there is no way in hell I could see this Caroline Forbes spending any time in close proximity with Damon Salvatore. This fic explores the full extent of what he did to her while she was human, and at it’s heart, the one-shot is about Caroline’s trauma and recovery. Along the way, she falls for Klaus yes, and - slight spoiler here - there may even be some Damon murder involved offscreen, but’s it’s Caroline’s story told here, first and foremost. And it’s beautiful, so bloody beautiful. Never have I read a fic so beautifully crafted with such fine detail and respect. Honestly, leaves me lost for words.

Wayfarer by perfectpro / @helpless-in-sleep

One-shot. The perfect little fic to cure the woes canon bestowed us. Years in the future, Caroline is travelling the world. But travelling alone isn’t what she expected it to be, and Paris certainly isn’t wowing her either. Almost deciding to call it quits and leave, her mind is changed when a familiar face appears. Perfect for solidifying these two are endgame, this fic is short but packs a great hit all the same.

she’s a rainbow by sunnydaisy / @little-miss-sunny-daisy

One-shot. Original!Caroline. The relationship built between Klaus and Caroline in this just incredible. They’ve been a couple for centuries, but like all relationships, this one has its struggles, and they work through it and come out stronger than ever. The fic is also so much fun. The Mystic Falls gang are oblivious to who Klaus and Caroline really are, which leads to some great moments.

Wisteria by sunnydaisy / @little-miss-sunny-daisy

One-shot. Another ‘Caroline meets Klaus early’ au, and probably my absolute favourite of the trope. This fic is packed with so much fluff and make-you-smile moments you’ll be grinning madly by the end. Carolines flees to the coast to escape Mystic Falls for a few days, saddened by Matt’s rejection and still coming to terms with being a vampire herself. In a bar, she meets Klaus, unaware he is also a vampire, and they hit off from there. It’s so cute guys, I just can’t. She tries to compel him and Klaus goes along with it because you can tell he finds her adorable, this blond baby vampire full of sunshine and- god. Just read it before I start crying again over the perfectness of it all.

Ghost by sunshineandfangs / @sunshineandfangs and it’s sequel Help me, please!

One-shot, or technically a two-shot if you count its sequel. This is my other favourite one-shot of the fandom. IT. IS. AMAZING. Like seriously, drop dead, scream into your pillow a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Go read it. Caroline dies when still human, killed by Damon. She watches as Elena softens to her murderer, as Bonnie helps him and Stefan turns into a similar monster. Hate and anger festers and grows, until she’s strong enough to interact with the world she’s barred from. As a ghost, she meets Klaus, and with any loyalty she held for her friends lost the day they left her to die, she helps him break his curse. Spooky, rife with betrayal and thus revenge, this is a great read for fellow chaos demons like myself.

Pet Wolf by these-dreams-go-on / @these-dreams-go-on

Multichap. WIP. Come for the klaroline, stay for the wolf!klaus who is a menace and an absolute delight. Seriously. The chapters where Klaus is stuck in his werewolf form and Caroline unknowingly adopts him as her pet is pure genius and the true highlight of this fic. He chews her dad’s shoes. He growls at boys. He watches freakin TV, fur and all. Asdfghjkl- It’s amazing go read it.

Wicked Schemes by willowaus

Multichap. Complete. A classic. Caroline inherits some badass powers from a forgotten relative and is pulled into the supernatural political shitstorm that is New Orleans. Looks like the city finally has its new Queen.

...My god that was a lot of recs. You can tell canon divergence is my favourite au, heh. Now go forth and devour them!

#klaroline #klaroline events #klarolineauseason #auseason2022 #morningstar's rec list #fic recs #hopefully I got the tumblr urls right but correct me if I am wrong

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maliceandvice · 9 months

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Hey there... Just saw you reblog a post with tags about being unhinged with grief and how you relate except the guy being talked to in the post is your cat... You doing ok? Do you need to talk at all? If not feel free to ignore this. It's just, I've lost very special pets before and that post was so extremely accurately evocative of the worst parts of grieving over a pet and I can't NOT offer to help...

Oh, it’s very sweet of you, I appreciate it, thank you. Yeah that post kind hit the nail on the head. Yes, I lost my little special guy, Sunshine, about a month ago. I haven’t really spoken about it here since I tend to keep this account separate and quieter from my more public social media, but I’ve found talking about it does help so I don’t mind sharing and talking about him.

I got him when he was about 6 and he was fiv+, so he sat in the shelter for 6 months because no one wanted an older sick cat. Also all his teeth went bad a few months after I got him because he’d been so neglected let, so he only had 3 and was the silliest, most pathetic little gummy bear. But he was perfect. My little buddy. The sweetest guy, just wanted a bff to hold him and give him head kisses. He loved new friends and would roll over for tummy rubs from everyone he met. Never bit or scratched. Loved rolling in sun puddles and licking water out of the bathtub like a little weirdo. He slept in my arms every day, went feral for sour cream, and would tuck himself under my arm to read or play Switch together.

In January 2022 he was diagnosed with large cell GI lymphoma. We did 6 months of chemo for it. Every Friday we’d brave the traffic on the LA 101 to go to the oncologist, I’d wait for hours in the vet’s parking lot for him to finish his treatment because I wasn’t allowed in with him because of COVID, and then we’d drive back together. He was a brave little champion through the entire thing; I genuinely think his bright, happy little personality helped him through it because he just didn’t know how to feel upset or bad! That first treatment worked perfectly though so it was worth it and he went into remission for about 9 months and he was great! Happiest little guy! But it came back this April and I knew we couldn’t possibly get that lucky twice. We still tried though. But yeah, he just never responded to this second round of chemo and he declined over the last few months. Even though I was braced for it for a really long time, it still went shockingly fast at the end. He was fine one week and then just faded so quickly the next and I knew we had to say goodbye.

One the one hand, I know getting 19 more months with an fiv+ cat with a terminal illness is amazing. It’s literally unheard of. It just doesn’t happen. He defied all his early prognosis, lived months and months beyond what’s typical, and didn’t start to show he was ill right until the end. So it’s near miraculous we got so much time, I’m so grateful to all the vets who looked after him, and I’m so proud of him for being so brave and strong to stay with me for so long. But on the other, we only had about 4 years together and he deserved so much more. I know he got several lifetimes worth of love in that timespan, but it still makes me upset that he didn’t get longer since he had such a hard life before I found him. We both got shortchanged.

I’m doing…pretty rough tbh. I think I’ve cried every day for over a month. I think between the pandemic and then the intense cancer treatment we basically super trauma bonded. And also he was just the perfect little guy for me, he slotted into my life so well. So it feels like all my happiness just got ripped out of my chest. The little constant and reliable source of brightness and love in my life is just gone. I know they’re all special and perfect, but he really, really was and I know I’m never going to be able to replace that kind of bond. So I’m pretty much a huge mess.

But I’m honestly probably doing about as well as I can be. I had a long time to mentally prepare and find pet grief resources, I’m very self aware, I’ve reached out for help when I’ve needed it, and I sort of just know that like…this is what it is. It’s an inevitably and it’s the saddest I’ve ever been in my life and there’s nothing that will make it feel better and I’m probably gonna be sad about him forever so you just gotta go straight through it. You just keep goin forward in small steps, even if you’re crying the entire way.

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afrourbanbeat · 1 year

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youtube

Honest Faith

Jesus at the centre of it all. A song by Israel Houghton. A song that I can’t seem to get out from my head from when I heard it. I’ve sang that worship song many times in church, but I never knew it was by him.

Do people really find the answers and the fulfillment that they are looking for from God? Or is that something we keep telling each other to encourage each other to keep pursuing something greater and higher than us? Does it mean that the more people believe in it, then the less you can doubt it? Is that why they always seek to recruit more followers to Christianity? I don’t know. And even as I type this, I’m wondering if thinking these thoughts out loud is me not being a believer or having doubt in God. One minute I’m fully on fire for Christ, the next I’m kind of wondering if any of this has any real significance here on earth.

I’ve been praying for a lot of things, big prayers and believing for things that are damn near impossible. Praying for miraculous healing to take place in the life of a loved one who is suffering; praying for rifts in my family that have taken place and are causing severe grief; praying for success in endeavours that someone like me could never even possibly imagine ever occurring in their lifetime. I’m praying for a lot of things and putting my faith in God for these things to happen; and yet at the same time, knowing that God is not a genie, and we don’t just come to Him for him to grant our wishes. God is our Father in heaven and his original design for us was for us to be in communion with Him and share our lives with Him and love him and make Him a part of our everyday lives, as it should have been before the fall of man. As it was in the Garden of Eden.

But then how does one commune with God here on earth when a large majority of all that is on earth is covered in darkness and evil? Sometimes the darkness is so overpowering and strong, and you see it continuously destroying lives and destinies and you find yourself wondering why, if God is so powerful does evil reign so rampantly? Why is my life attacked by the devil, why do my thoughts oppress me? Why is there destruction happening in the life of the loved one you keep praying for over and over again? Is there any worth in continuing to pray for them? Or have the prayers you’ve prayed for that person sufficed and is it in the queue for God to answer? Often times there always seem to be more questions than answers.

I wish I could know all the answers, but the truth is that I don’t know. I don’t know if a single thing that I’ve prayed for will come to pass, I don’t know if healing will come to the person I continuously get down and pray for. I don’t know if healing from addiction will ever occur in the life of the loved one that I keep seeing destroyed by substance abuse will happen. I don’t even know if I’ll wake up tomorrow morning. Every day I am alive, and every day that I am allowed to take breath in my body is because of God’s grace and his mercy over my life. I don’t know about all the other things that I do and pray for every day, but God’s grace over my life and Him allowing me to open my eyes each day is honestly the only thing I am certain of. I don’t know about the rest of it all, and as I get older and grow more in my walk with him (although at times shaky), I can never deny the obvious truth that in all the chaos, confusion, doubt, hurt, fear, wonder, awe and joy, Jesus is at the centre of it all. From beginning to the end, it will always be about Him. So, I won’t worry about what tomorrow brings, but focus Jesus being there at the centre of my faith. And that is honestly where I am right now.

#faith #christian faith #christianity #jesus #blog #black girl blogger #african #Youtube

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zakmarcin · 3 months

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Hey Zak, I’ll like your advice if you have time to give. I took my ex back last year April. He told me yesterday he doesn’t want his mind to wander and I know he’s talking about his ex b/c he went back to her earlier next year. He was honest with me about how tired he was waiting for me to move in with him. He said he didn’t cheat on me. Almost been a year and I still haven’t been able to move in with him because I’m talking care of my mom. He took his ex back because I wasn’t able to move near him. I didn’t cry but I was hurt.

However I’ve been taking my stuff to his home in these past few months cause my mom is ready to head back to her homeland.

One day while on FT, he was playing video games and overheard him talking this his brother and he was talking about other how hard it is to find a woman with the whole package such as intelligence and body. That kind of hurt my feelings because I don’t fit the description he really want.

I feel like I should leave but he’s my first bf I had. I never had someone have so much patience with me. I grew up neglected and never had a man take their time with me been all alone these years because I’ve been losing my immediate family. I’m almost 30 years old and have been sad, stressed and overwhelmed for a long time. All I have is my mother left and she’s been going senile for about two years now so in reality she’s not really here, just physically. I have a few best friends but they are mothers now and I don’t want to bother them.

He tells me he loves me and once told me tolerates me and wants to start a family but something about it feels off. I feel like if his ex was not hard to deal with he’ll be her and not me. I’m scared to start over honestly.

I think that if you still have any concerns about his ex and he JUST told you about his mind wandering, you shouldn’t be with him. I’m very big on not tolerating anything ex related.

Also, if someone is gonna push you to move in like that, the bare minimum is they should definitely be 100% sure of you. It’s also a huge red flag that he was that pushy about it and even left for an EX because you were staying to take care of your mother. I understand wanting to advance the relationship and take those steps, but that’s very inconsiderate and telling. That combined with the “tolerate” comment and the conversation you overheard, makes it sound like comfort and attachment more than love.

My overall advice - trust your intuition. I know life has been hard for you, but it will get even harder if you choose the wrong partner, one who is not certain of you. You don’t want a lifetime of those sad, overwhelming feelings, and a partner is a very pivotal decision. It’s also very important to distinguish patience vs. tolerance. How patient is a guy who left you because you couldn’t move in because your mom was sick?

Starting over sucks, it really does, and it’s especially hard for everyone when it’s their first, but it’s important to realize that the concept of the “first” is just something we romanticize. I was completely daunted by the idea of it not working out with my first, and fast forward all these years, I don’t think about her at all, and never in any positive light.

Once I truly let that go, with more maturity/wisdom and no concept of a “first” to cloud my vision, I met someone I feel even stronger about, (which back then I didn’t think was possible) someone that I want to spend my life with. Whether I get to do that or not, it taught me what matters is who becomes the last. And if I can do it, I know you can. 30 is not too late for anything. You deserve someone you don’t have to second guess.

It *could* be worth a conversation with him if you haven’t voiced your concerns in depth to see what he has to say. But overall I think we both may know enough to know what the best thing to do is. I hope this helps. Wishing you blessings and discernment through this time.

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soft-boi-eli · 2 years

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Great joke, dad! Hope this is not offensive, may I have a CC/p Philza w/ a FtM son reader who just got top surgery and is recovering so he usually lays down and hangs out quietly out of frame of Dadza's facecam, but one day the pains hurts so bad, wall streaming (in a vc w/ Bench Trio & Will) Hardcore, Origins SMP or Dream SMP, reader walks in & leans on Dadza's shoulder and Dadza pets reader's head in comfort & chat, Bench Trio & Will just loses it, asking questions, introducing themselves.

Not triggering to me at all. This is adorable and I love it.

Pain and happiness

It was not even a week after the surgery. Your father was streaming though. You couldn't really bother your mother as she was cooking dinner for all of you.

Tired. In pain. And just feeling kind of clingy. You looked at your father as you sat near him, off camera.

He had yet to fully introduce you. They knew you exsisted, but you were never really fully seen.

Giving up you got up, pulling the spare chair up next to him as you lay your head on his shoulder. "Hey. Did you take your meds?" Nodding lightly you kept the blanket on your shoulders. The cold still deep in you.

"It hurts. It sucks. But so worth it." You mutter, voice barely getting picked up to on the VC. You watched as your father winced and took off his head phones.

"Who's that!" "Sounds like a teen." "No they must be atleast young adult." The now exploding V.C bounced voices off the wall.

"I didn't expect you guys to react like this. He quite often is on camera." Phil was quick to speak over to people. Whole you leaned on him and watched the chaos. He was safe in his house on what ever map he was on.

"So who is he?" It was the louder of the voices, tommy you think. "If you flip over to my stream, if you can, I can introduce them to you."

"Oh God it is a teen! I was right wilbur!" Yep tommy you knew that voice anywhere. "Really? You never told us you had a child?" That voice seemed so familiar. Tubbo maybe? "He looks around are age. Can we see him in a bit? Like after the stream he seems cool." An american, ranboo. "I mean it depends. On how he's feeling didn't you hear? He's in pain." Maybe wilbur. You couldn't fully tell.

"Yeah. Anyways I'm tommy!" It was the loud voice. You were right with that one. "Maybe we can distract them from what is hurting right now. Also I'm ranboo." Correct again. "I'm tubbo." It was the correct again. Maybe that could be you job. "And I'm wilbur." You got them all right. Congrats.

"I'm (y/n). And honestly a distraction from this would be nice." Yes in the end this pain would give you a lifetime of happiness. But was it giving you full blown happiness. Well yeah actually. That's besides the point it hurt like hell. And all you wanted was something to take your mind off of it. It's so bad that you can't even chew without wanting to cry.

You can't really get up fully still on the like second day of the surgery recovery. So you were wearing the best clash of clothes. Plaid, black, white, plus blue, pajama pants, a large zip up hoodie, and normally a blanket to keep you warm due to the anesthesia.

"I mean. As long as you guys go careful on him. He has alot of restrictions right now." You dad had activated dadza. He was now very protective. "Nah let's just go skydiving." Tommy was fast to snap back. Sarcasm dripping on every word. Making you give out a small laugh but wincing in pain after.

"Good one tommy. But refrain from being the funny man you are for a bit. It hurts to laugh." You were careful with speaking as it hurt too. Sometimes breathing hurt but what ever.

"I will try just so I don't hurt you." Tommy spoke. "Thank you funny man." It was genuine. And you now had a nickname for him. "So why exactly are you in pain?" Tubbo. Seemed like a curious soul. "Yeah. It must be hard to do alot if it hurts to laugh." Ranboo.

"Well I finally got top surgry. Been a hell of a ride with it. But there are no regrets. Just pain. It's worth the pain though you know." This is the most you've talked in the past few days.

There was peace. A few congratulations and hoping you were well. God. This was the pace you needed. The pain was dulled so much. "I'm gonna wrap up stream now. Help him wrap up somethings up, get them clean." He was quick to sign out and all that and helped you to the bathroom.

"Do you want a different hoodie?" Nodding lightly you felt awkward. You felt bad for having your dad and mom do this all. "Which one?" He held up a pure black one and a bee one. The pattern embroidered into the fabric.

One of your favorite hoodies but sadly you couldn't wear it yet. It didn't zip up. You felt sad. "Oh. Wait I forgot. Let me grab the new one." New? What did he mean by that?

He came back a different hoodie that actually zipped up.

It was perfect. "We ordered it before you surgry but it didn't come until yesterday." He helped you slip it on. "Fits perfectly " he mumbled. Smiling as he gently hugged you.

Kissing the top of your messy hair he stood there for a while. Just hugging you tight, yet gentle. He was not gonna let go.

I'm gonna finish up the requests I have. I know. I should be taking a break but I can't just leave you guys with out anything. So Im going to finish them.

Also I might take a while longer for mcyt requests when I open them. But I do hope you guys request other things too!

I will write for mythical creatures too! I.e werewolves, mermaids, orcs, minotaurs, and many others.

-Eli out

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versadies · 3 years

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Hey!!! How are you?

Congratulations on your 1k followers

Can I request aries + Kazuha + hc scenario + fluffy...?

Today is the last day of the event, I just saw it today, at least it wasn't after the event ended ;w;

⠀

I'm thinking about having a nickname to join the anon squad... Maybe 🇧🇷 anon? Your content came to a Brazilian person! Congratulations on your content reaching someone on the other side of the world :)

in the next life (hc scenario, reincarnation au)

penpal: hi hi, i’m doing great ty 🇧🇷 anon!! i’m so happy to know that my content has reached to the other side of the world 🥺🥺 i hope you like this <<3

prompt: aries the ram, red-string soulmate au

pairing/s: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

sypnosis: sometimes, happy endings can only happen in another lifetime. (or, hc on how you and kazuha met during the modern era of teyvat)

includes: slight spoilers to inazuma quests (2.0), fluff/slight angsty, reincarnation au, mentions of death, modern au, rushed ending

soulmates has always been one of the things that made teyvat special.

people had all collectively agreed that meeting their soulmate is one of the most treasuring moment, no matter how strange or hilarious the first encounter is like, no one should ever forget the once-in-a-lifetime moment.

with that said, most stories are usually soulmates– specifically how one meets their fated other. historical moments are no exception to this, such as an archon's first ever encounter with their soulmate during an annual rite, a forbidden love between an immortal being and a human, a sweet story of a soldier and a healer during a certain war, and the list goes on.

but where are stories that contains soulmates who had never met one another? or had a tragic fate that gave them no opportunity to get along with their soulmate anymore?

none.

some would say they'll meet in the afterlife, where they can live on in peace as the world goes on. while some would beg to differ and think that the two soulmates are just bound to not meet.

only little would suggest reincarnation.

and you and your beloved soulmate are one of those little people.

but you honestly didn't think that you and kazuha would be the soulmates with a tragic fate.

the both of you had met thanks to the resistance. when beidou decided to introduce kazuha to kokomi, he met you along the way– the right-hand-person of kokomi and his soulmate.

the both of you had instantly clicked when you met, the wide smile the both of you had appeared when you notice each other's red string being connected.

since then, you were inseparable.

on days when your assigned unit didn't need your assistance at the moment, you usually use those times to hung out with the samurai, often talking about each other's adventures and experiences with the best you can.

it was those days when you incredibly cherished the moments, making sure to remember every second of those moments you had with him before going on battles against kujou sara and her soldiers.

unfortunately for the both of you, the memories that you oh-so cherished would be the last one you'll ever make.

"see you in the next life... kaedehara kazuha," you whispered, staring at the samurai as the both of you lie down on the cold ground with soldiers fighting around the both of you, blood gushing out from your mouth. "whether it'd be in the next life or another, may celestia let us have another chance."

you watched as kazuha smiled lightly, his hand shakily trying to reach out to yours until he intertwines it together. "till we meet again, y/n."

as the war between the resistance and the raiden shogun continued, you and kazuha let out your one last breath before passing away.

much to you and kazuha's hopes, the war against the vision hunt decree won victoriously, with the raiden shogun lifting up the decree and brought inazuma back to its usual peaceful life before the decree.

of course, the resistance alongside the traveler paid respects to you and kazuha's passing, telling you that you and kazuha can rest now that they won.

as centuries flew by, teyvat had a major change among the nations. in this particular century, archons and visions had long been forgotten, with technology around the world being more advanced than before. as for soulmates? they still exist fortunately.

then there's you, a person who found joy in traveling around the world and tell the world about it. at least, that's what people think.

to you, you simply wanted to travel around teyvat to find a person named kaedehara kazuha.

recently, you started getting dreams of a man who goes by kaedehara kazuha. some were usually romantic that it gave you butterflies, some were conversations that you sometimes would forget, and of course, the dreams that often haunt you.

most dreams of yours were always lying down beside the man– who was bleeding to death. was this a sign of him dying? what is the purpose of these dreams?

you didn't know why this was happening to you. are you slowly going insane? or were you just overreacting?

whatever it was, you knew that deep down that it has something to do with your soulmate.

you went high and low around each nation you visited, often asking certain people if they've know a man named kaedehara kazuha, only to receive no useful information that could help you.

of course, your only source that could help you find him is the red string that connects you and your soulmate, following the direction it led you with hopes of it twitching as a sign that you're near.

unfortunately, none of the nations you've visited had no signs of who you're looking for.

your last stop is inazuma, a nation that's infamous for having beautiful firework shows and tourist spots. there's not a single place that isn't worth taking pictures of.

the moment you arrived to the nation using a boat,l you came across to a woman whose name is beidou.

"i don't know a man whose name has a kaedehara, but i have a son who coincidentally has the same name as kazuha!" she exclaims with a grin. "i don't think he's the one you're looking for though, i've never seen him hung out with someone like you or anyone else who isn't gorou."

you smile lightly at the woman, trying to not look disappointed. "i see.. thank you again, miss beidou."

she quickly waved you off. "good luck in finding the man you're looking for!"

the moment you immediately checked in ritou, you started exploring around the nation with no plans of stopping, hoping to see at least one person who looks like the man in your dreams or has their red string connected to your finger.

unfortunately, every area you've visited in the land, you still haven't found the end of the string, your hopes slowly dying down as time flew by.

you decided to explore more the next day, deciding to go back to inazuma city and have dinner in one of their infamous restaurants.

as you sat down on one of the stools while waiting for kanbei to cook your meals, you let out a disappointed sigh. if you couldn't find your soulmate anywhere, where could he be?

what if kaedehara kazuha doesn't exist at all? what if he died before you could even meet him and find out what's going on with your dreams?

you let out another sigh, rubbing the back of your neck in frustration. you hoped all of this wasn't a waste of your time. you honestly don't know what to do if you won't be able to find him at all, let alone what happens after you meet him.

unnoticed by you, your red string started twitching nonstop. a man suddenly enters the place, sitting down one seat away from where you are.

"rough day, kazuha?" kanbei asked, not bothering to look away from the pot as he continues to focus on cooking your meal.

"not exactly. i found a perfect spot to write haiku." the man, kazuha, replied.

as kazuha and kanbei continued conversing, you couldn't help but find yourself slowly drifting to sleep, now feeling the exhaustion from your exploration around the nation.

before you could completely pass out on the counter, you immediately woke up from the delicious smell of your meal, looking up to see the chef being finished with your meal already. perhaps the reviews weren't lying when they said this restaurant is fast with services.

you quietly thanked the chef when he placed the meal down in front of you, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of the delicious meal before digging up, still not noticing the red string twitching nonstop due to your focus on filling your hunger.

"thank you again, kanbei." kazuha speaks up as he grabs the packaged food from the chef's hands and hands over the payment.

"always happy to serve, kazuha. see ya tomorrow." kanbei said, watching as the man walks away from the restaurant.

out of curiosity, you glance at who you assume is beidou's son, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of the same man that you've been seeing in your dreams–

along with his red string connecting to yours.

without thinking, you immediately jumped down from your stool, staring at kazuha, who already walked out from the diner without a glance of your direction. "i'll be back and continue eating my meal. apologies for my rudeness!" you exclaim before running towards kazuha's direction without letting a single word come out from kanbei, who was confused at your words.

"kazuha!" you yelled, hoping kazuha would hear your voice despite the sounds of cars and people being loud around the both of you.

you tried to call for the man again, only for you to get frustrated when he still hadn't heard a word from you. was he wearing earphones?!

you immediately look down at your string and back at kazuha, hesitating for a moment before shaking the string aggresively. please, please, please look back! please look like you're him–

you sigh in relief when he finally noticed his string shaking, causing him to stop his trakcs and look behind him to see you running towards him like your life depends on it.

his eyes widens at the sight of you running towards him, your face was all too familiar for him to remember. it can't be, you only existed in his dreams!

the both of you suddenly remember certain memories the both of you didn't even knew you had. memories of which the both of you used to be in. memories of the both of you walking around the infamous serpent head as soldiers trained with all their might for the upcoming war, memories of the both of you watching the stars and wish for the resistance to win victoriously, memories of your past life that you and kazuha had forgotten.

that was enough for kazuha to run towards you as well, his arms suddenly spreading wide open for you to clashed into, dropping his food without a care.

the moment you and kazuha finally had gotten closer, you tackled the man into a hug as tears prickled in your eyes, ignoring the questionable stares the both of you received from people passing by.

"i found you." you whispered, closing your eyes shut as you let out a sound of relief. "after so.. so many months, i finally found you."

kazuha hugs you back, pulling you closer to his body as he sighs in relief. now that there's no more wars or something to run away from, the both of you can start anew and live the life the both of you had wanted back then.

"i missed you."

333 notes · View notes

todourouki · 4 years

Text

↲ Back to my BNHA Masterlist

i crash, u crash.

SUMMARY: Being with Dabi wasn’t easy and it probably never will be, but he just wants to make sure you’ll stick around. Or in which Dabi tries his best to show you he cares about you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: based off i crash, u crash by lil peep! lol honestly idk about this one. but welcome back gift for me, from me, to you <3

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Dabi & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,476

WARNINGS: Explicit Content, Dabi is toxic, Angst*, NSFW [18+] including spitting, slight daddy kink, squirting, slight overstimulation.

Sex with Dabi was always the same.

Routinely speaking, whenever he was back from a mission was the time you were expected to be on all fours waiting for his attention. It was always rough too, nothing short of angry and aggressive even if it was a form of “love-making.” He could call it what he wanted to though, he knew the universal term for his type of sex was simply fucking.

The positions and their timings were always on schedule. No more than 3 minutes in missionary— all the time in the world doing everything else. You never really got to touch him, and he’s never let you see his face when he came.

The relationship of hot and fiery sex mixed with an unrequited form of codependency grew to an actual romantic one somehow between the days and nights spent together, yet nothing of the dynamic ever changed. The only thing you could recall is that he groggily asked of you to “finally be his girlfriend since you already acted like it.”

Dabi was a complicated person. You never knew if he planned on waking up and deciding he wanted to be single, and honestly the day he decided to do such a thing wouldn’t be a surprise to you. He was an avid participator in the league of breaking hearts and even if you had more than enough knowledge on this, you allowed his sneaky smirk to seduce you into the sheets of his bed and hours of his days.

You eventually found yourself moving in, figuring out that he refused to sleep without the air conditioner on, never wore socks around the house, used way too much salt on his eggs, and never managed to close the curtains after he got out the shower. Above all that though, he never changed the way he fucked you.

Dabi loves you, of course you never had to question it or get reassurance. He showed you in minuscule ways such as stealing bringing you your favorite snacks after a long day without you, doing things such as buying double of what he gets from store runs because you’re in his mind all day, and telling you he’ll be safe for you once he walks out the door. He never says I love you, but he doesn’t need to.

It’s hard to get someone like him to change the way they are, so when you’re sitting on your shared bed flipping through a magazine and see a couples quiz linger across the page, you can’t help but try to feed yourself crumbs of his affection you know you’ll spend a lifetime searching for.

“How long did it take for you to realize you like me?” You broke the silence, squinting at the duo-skin toned man slouched across the wooden headboard.

You heard him chuckle, blinking longly at you with amusement glimmering within his cerulean irises. It wasn’t rare for Dabi to mock you for asking such a thing, but it was a rare moment for you to glare at him deadpanned and genuinely waiting for an answer. It fucking confused him.

“As long as it took you to make me cum the first time.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment enough to make him furrow his eyebrows. It wasn’t like you to not retaliate back, you were always quick to snap back at him. Hearing nothing but his own breathing as you skipped through pages made him furrow his eyebrows. He wanted to ask if you were okay— he really did, but then you’d think he cared.

And Dabi would be a terrible person if he let you know he cared.

The silence was nearly overbearing, nearly deafening in his ears as he tried his hardest to focus on anything but your serious expression haunting him in the back of his mind. Things like this rarely bothered him. It goes to say that Dabi was rarely ever bothered.

Sure, you never asked for much reassurance and never even did as much as ask if he meant it when he asked you out mid-nap, but he really did. Sure, you lived off the whim of thinking it was, but at least the raven haired man knew it was. Right?

The sound of the magazine slamming shut and getting thrown somewhere onto the bed broke Dabi of his thoughts. “I’m gonna’ pee.” You announced, mostly to no one in particular because your soft eyes refused to meet his own. Another rare occurrence.

You lied to Dabi for the first time in your life. Did you really have to pee? Of course not. Did you have to cry in the bathroom for a quick 2 seconds to release the pent up frustration of utter confusion? Of course you did. It was annoying— living with someone and only getting treated as if you were anything in the slightest to him when his dick was inside of you. He only ever fucks you rough and never lets you see his face, and he expects you to believe he wants to be with you?

After cleaning your solemn face from dry tears, your body grudgingly made its way out the bathroom and to the bed. Your presence within the studio was clear, panties strewn across the open drawers mixed with Dabi’s briefs, shoes tucked neatly compared to Dabi’s boots tossed lazily near the door, and perfume bottles layering up against the old brown dresser. You took a quick glance at a picture of you hanging on the wall, a familiar raven-headed man’s arms wrapped around your head as he towered over your frame with his head resting across your head.

It was never worth the confusion.

“Why were you crying?” His dark voice rang out, making you slightly flinch as you dented the soft mattress with your frame.

A quick shake of the head will do, you thought to yourself as you followed your own orders. You knew Dabi wouldn’t push to find out what was wrong, he never does. And he doesn’t, lips shut as he takes a drag from some cigarette he’s smoking and giving you a longing look of aggravation. It’s even less of a surprise for him to do such a thing.

“If you have something to tell me, then I suggest you do it.” If you hadn’t known Dabi for as long as you do, you’d probably assume he was being condescending and outright rude. Because you do know him though, you know that’s exactly how he’s trying to come off to you.

You dreaded it. The eventual confrontation that was inevitable from the moment you accepted to be his girlfriend— it all led to this moment in space and time. You felt exactly how you predicted you’d feel, sick and intimidated. Not necessarily by Dabi because you know he’d never hurt you, but intimidated by the fact that it’s as easy as 1-2-3 for him to up and leave depending on your answer.

“What are we, Dabi?” And there it goes, 1-2-3.

It was like hearing a pin drop. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody did anything for the first three seconds following the ultimatum. He knew he had two options: answer genuinely and reveal information he’d die before releasing, or leave you high and dry yet again for his own benefit when it comes to the mere idea of using words he doesn’t use in bed.

Staring into your eyes never scared him, he cremating people for a living, but knowing that lying behind them were tears falling for your reflection rather than on his shoulder caused a pang to hit his chest. It was unfamiliar and unusual, but looking at your body begin to leave its space in the bed in frustration with his quietness made him snap. You were serious for the first time.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Your words were harsh, harsher than usual and you yourself couldn’t even tell where this newfound energy came from.

You were okay. You were okay with whatever this complicated situationship was, and you probably would have still been okay with it if you hadn’t gotten too deep in over your head and let his words get to you. Him saying he realized he liked you coincidentally while you fucked should be above you, yet here you are.

“Jesus doll, relax.” He taunted, hands reaching out to grab your arm in a fit of confusion and annoyance, “just come back to bed Y/N.”

You felt it - the minute he touched your arm and released the tiniest bit of heat coming off his palm - just how tense he was becoming. He knew once you put your mind to something, it was difficult to get you to move away from it. He knew that there was no escaping this conversation.

It was inevitable really, the fact that one day (which was, unfortunately for him, today) you would question the legitimacy of his emotions for you. You were carefree just like him, that’s why he fell for you. But you were also blunt. If you felt a way, you were going to say it and that’s that.

Easily, the scarred hand gripping onto your arm slid over to your clenched jaw. You didn’t mean to give him a hard time for not looking his way—with the way his fingers squeezed deep into your skin and tilted your head towards him, you knew you did. It almost repulsed you with how obedient your body was to his touch, glancing at him with no shame other than the dried tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna tell you the one time and I’ll never repeat myself,” he threatened, voice treading amongst angry waters as his blue eyes bored into yours, “I’m serious.”

You stood your ground, eyes taking away from your scowling expression as they swirled in curiosity. It didn’t take much to make you lower your frame onto the edge of the bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you pulled the t-shirt past your exposed panties.

“I don’t say much when it comes to you, or even to when it’s about you—but you’re all I am.” Your eyebrows furrowed, clear confusion written in your face.

“What does tha—” “I’m talking.” Dabi’s aggravated expression never left, not even with the joint hoisted between his lips in nothing but frustration.

“I got nothing to give you, nothing but collected calls from jail and maybe some jewelry I stole cause I got bored. I don’t have any money, anything to my name, and nothing but a spot on the police and hero department’s most wanted list.” His words made you frown, the clear self-depreciation outweighing the cocky and arrogant attitude you once knew to belong to the man infront of you.

“I can’t look you in the eye, show you my face when you milk my cock clean— can’t do shit like that,” Dabi’s smirk was quick to appear, your eyes rolling as you met his serious gaze yet again, “probably won’t be able to take you out the country either unless we run far, far away from here.”

“But nothing I say or do will ever express the way I feel about you.” And now it’s Dabi’s turn for the 1-2-3 process, because that statement in itself made your brain stop working.

Your brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that Dabi’s free hand was circling your bare thigh, moving closer and closer to where he most felt at home. His words never faltered though, only slightly pausing to smoothly slip his hands onto the soaked folds of pink lace.

His words were thrown against empty ears. You couldn’t focus on the words flowing within the room due to the ever-growing heartbeat pulsing between your thighs. Dabi’s hand sank into your leg, heat splitting between your skin enough to hiss and throw your head back.

“From this perfect pussy,” he applied pressure to the space between your legs, the wet patch inducing a smile from his once blank expesssion. The sudden contact caused a gasp to slip from your panting lips. Almost instinctively, Dabi pressed his thumb against your tongue, “to this smart ass mouth, it’s all I need to wake up in the morning.”

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi's heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he's ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who's life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen burn bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

His motions stopped, yet hands showed no intention on moving from its current place. He was staring at you intensely - as intensely as he could - to assert his egotistical dominance but you knew the truth.

And as Dabi lowered your frame into the soft, plush white sheets, he realized he knew the truth as well. Your eyes were dazed, irises looking at all of him at the same time as your body swallowed in his touch and he knew. Dabi knows deep down no matter how much taller, bigger, or dominant he ever tried to be, he would worship the ground you walked on with the blink of an eye.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi's harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

Before you, Dabi was known to be something of a martyr. He fooled women, toying with their souls the same way he toyed with their bodies and cried trauma when they threatened to leave. He kept a string on every one he ever fucked, being cautious enough to keep them at the heel of his feet for a fun time when he felt he had enough of you.

Then, he got addicted. He drowned in your drive, finding for the first time in his life some sort of comfort. Your natural warmth, your smile, your understanding— you were someone Dabi would find himself laughing at for thinking they actually existed.

"You're gonna get tired of me one day," he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, "you're gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own."

He wanted to think he wouldn't care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn't do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he's ever known in his life for as long as he'd live.

With a soft whimper, your hands turned his head from his lowered expression over to your soft eyes. He hated how quick you got him to look at you, and he especially hated how quick you made his breath stop.

"Hey," you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

"You crash, I crash. Always."

Your words hit him, and boy did they hit Dabi hard. The time it took for the word always to softly slip off your tongue was just enough time for Dabi to realize the depth of your words.

They were the same ones that fell between your lips when he thought he was dying, when you thought you were dying, and now. Dabi was complex - that was evident - but he was also the simplest man you knew. All he ever really needed was some reassurance.

It was long before his fingers found their way into your scalp, slipping over the crevices of your neck and gripping onto the back of your head as if his life depended on it. All you could do was gasp.

"Can I touch you?" The words were like a record scratch, repeating through the scarred man's brain all too much to keep anyone sane.

He couldn't tell if it was the slur of your words, or if it was your soft hands running across his thick shoulders as the words whispered into his ears— whatever it was made him take up the obligation of doing anything and everything you said.

It wasn't soon before you found yourself slamming your lips against his, the sensation causing you both to moan. You couldn't tell the difference between his hands and yours, tangled limbs falling deep into the plush comforter covering your shared bed. His weight above you did nothing but encourage you to wrap your bare limbs against his now shirtless one on, hands running through the raven locks above your head.

The minute you felt the heated pads of his fingertips lower themselves down your abdomen, your head shook underneath his and caused him to part his lips from its home on yours.

"Hmph," you groaned, pouting as your hands traveled down to his jeans and began to fiddle with the zipper, "I want to feel you in me now."

Dabi was used to being in control. He was used to ordering your body around, telling you what to do and how to do it. In the bedroom, Dabi made the orders. So when he parted his lips from yours and stood over your body with his scarred hands shoving his pants down his thighs, you couldn't do anything less than moan. Knowing he was taking what you said into consideration brought chills to your skin.

"You sure you're ready for this, sweetheart?" He smirked, legs coming out of the restricting jeans he wore and leaving his tall and lean frame in nothing but gray briefs.

Dabi had a lot to brag about, in the most respectful way possible.

Your hands clawed at his waistband, giggling as you pulled his body all the way back to its original position of resting above you and let the underwear go with a loud smack. Being eye to eye with someone like Dabi was scary, no point in denying that. Her there was something about it that just drove the two of you insane— and he couldn't tell if I was anything short of love.

He silenced himself, attaching his lips to yours and preoccupying a hand into pulling his briefs down just enough. And by just enough, it meant just enough to brush your clothed clit as his painfully hard cock stretched up to his stomach. You couldn’t do anything but flinch, hands reaching out to grip his thick girth and slap it across your clothed pussy.

“Let me do it.” You smiled, eyes boring into Dabi’s own blue ones. Your free hand slipped your panties to the side, his mushroom tip dancing against the rim of your wet hole and causing the two of you to release a soft groan into one another’s face.

If there was one thing Dabi would never get tired of, it would be the feeling of your velvet walls sucking his dick closer into you. Nothing short of sensation hit him the minute your hands shoved the head in, and his almost fell inlove with the view of you watching his large length disappear into your own heaven.

It was hard for you to not cum from his entrance. Even as he bottomed out, your teeth sealing a scream from leaving your throat by pressing into his shoulder, did you realize just how big Dabi was. No matter how skinny, lean, and weightless he seemed, the girth and length on Dabi’s third leg when he was stuffing himself into you never failed to surprise you. Even through the self-inflicted pain of going into this without foreplay, you knew there was nothing that would ever fill you up as amazing as Dabi does.

“Fuuuck,” you dragged out into his earlobe, tongue licking a strip of his patched skin from your bite-mark to the lobe of his pierced ears, “you’re so big.”

He couldn’t help but whimper (another thing on Dabi’s list or shit he doesn’t do but now does because of you), the feeling of your tongue circling his ear as your pussy gripped onto his fleeting cock nearly felt like too much. It didn’t help that you were moaning and whispering in his ear with nothing but pure sex laced in your words.

“You know,” he breathed out, beginning to create a routine with his hips bottoming harshly into your cervix and slowly dragging out in a timely fashion, “this is the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

He thinks it’s a compliment, but really it stirs awake the competitive bone in your body. You ignore it though like you always do, choosing to appreciate the fact that he considers you the best at atleast something.

His hand gripped onto your neck, bringing neon stars and dots of blackness to conceal your view of cerulean eyes. Nothing but the lewd sounds of Dabi pushing his dick into your wet hole filled the room, sprinkles of your whimpers and his groans mixing amongst the darkness of the apartment.

Dabi was trouble. He never felt in control of his feelings, never knew what he would want in life, and never bothered to consider living for someone other than himself. It’s moments like these with you though, that makes him realize the God he wakes up thinking about rests between the gap in the middle of your heavenly thighs. He’d killed people before, but the power you held over him was enough to make him consider killing everyone on earth if you’d ask.

You felt him begin to grow impatient, hips pounding into your frame and causing your body to jolt up and down harshly. Words couldn’t describe how amazing Dabi felt inside of you right now. His tip crushed your cervix within every thrust, and it was Dabi’s fingers that lifted your gaping face from the trance of watching him fuck into you to his own face.

“I-I cant.” You began to slip out, tears growing against your eyes as Dabi’s hot fingers began to flick your swollen clit. You swear it’s only been like ten minutes, or maybe Dabi’s huge dick pushing against your cervix was beginning to fuck you stupid. “You’re gonna’ make me cum— make me cum too fast daddy.” You cried out, fingers dragging against the stapled back as you felt Dabi purposely drag one of the piercings located on his tip across your pulsating velvet walls. It was almost too good to be true, and you couldn’t help yourself from kicking his waist over you and forcing his body underneath you. He didn’t even have the courtesy to wipe the smirk off his sweating face.

“Get to work, doll.”

You knew why he spoke to you with such condensation. You also knew exactly why his hands pressed into your ass cheeks as you found your home on top of his bare lap. His scarred torso leaned against the black bed frame, and you decided right then and there that Dabi deserved to get his brains fucked out. So you did exactly what he told you to do— you got to work.

You were wet enough to take him some more, knees straining as you finally pushed his length deep into your stomach. The silent scream that left your lips didn’t go unnoticed though, your fingers that now gripped his cheeks pressing between his lips to keep his teasing menstruations to himself. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t come off your body, and honestly he wished they never had to.

Keeping a grip on your stomach and your ass cheek, an enflamed slap brought a powerful burn across your ass cheek and caused you to jolt against his penis.

“Jesus Dabi, a-are you trying to kill me?” You weakly pleaded, and it didn’t take long for your fucked our expression to start slurring your words.

The sound of you dropping your frame onto his body filled the room, your hips rolling against your clothed clit and bringing sensation you weren’t sure if you could handle. You were trying to focus, but the feeling of Dabi heating a hand up across your ass and slowly beginning to meet your thrusts caused your brain to jumble into a mess of nothing but him.

“Fuck, baby you look so good when you start to get stupid.” He smirked, lips running against the cleavage of your bouncing breasts and lazily sucking on the moving nipple in front of him.

You wanted to fight back, and you wanted to defend yourself against him thinking you we’re starting to get stupid. You really wanted to— the only issue being that you couldn’t. You couldn’t the minute Dabi found a way to meet your thrusts and roughly tilt your neck back up towards the ceiling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Was all you could cry out as you began to grow impatient in your lower abdomen. It just felt too good. And as if to add injury to insult, your walls began to clamp up from the feeling you knew was coming soon. Dabi paid the price.

You’d never seen his eyes get this wide, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth gaped open in shock. His eyes found its way down, the sight of your pussy gripping and swallowing his dick back in and out being something he wishes he could see all day and that’s when Dabi realizes that he is inlove with everything about you.

“It’s like your perfect pussy was made for me, baby.” He whimpered out, smirking between hooded eyes as he struggled to regain some of his consciousness. You were way too good at bouncing on his dick, and he couldn’t help but begin to meet your thrusts with more precision as he felt himself near orgasm.

“A-all for you! Always all- always all for you daddy!” You cried out, voice struggling to come out as you threw your hands against Dabi’s chest and began to bounce as if your life depends on it.

You hate doing all the work, honestly you really do dislike it. But this has been the longest Dabi has allowed you to ride him and the feeling of you literally milking his cock at your own disposal was an offer too good to ruin.

“I know it’s all for me, princess.” He whimpered out, a hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling it low enough to slam your chapped lips against his own. “Wanna know something, baby?”

The words vibrating against your own moans got lost in the sound, your headboard forcibly slamming against the wall only louder as every other thrust from you gradually grew rougher with your urge to cum. Your brain couldn’t do anything less than feverishly nod, hands slipping back onto your body and allowing Dabi to drill into you from underneath. Gasps slipped out of your parted lips with a hand gripping his black hair and the other begging to rub your own clit.

“You crash, I crash forever, right baby?” He moaned out, the words entering your ears and making you cry out with tears finally spilling down your eyes from nothing but intense pleasure.

“Fuck yes daddy, forever!” You cried out, body beginning to hunch over as you felt the pressure in your stomach compared to the way Dabi slammed into you become too much.

“Good, doll,” he moaned, pushing you so far into him, the heartbeat in your pussy was sure to be vibrating onto the veins of his dick, “so do me a favor.”

Everything happened much too fast, your dizzy state only increasing as Dabi grabbed your body harshly and tossed you back underneath him. There you were again, tossed carelessly under him with your legs trembling and pussy stuffed with all of Dabi in his glory. His lips found our ear again, licking your lobe and sucking on it right after.

“Cream all over my cock so I can stuff you up with my kids, deal?” He smirked into you, jolting into you as soon as the last word resonated on all ears.

Soon enough, he found it in himself to thrust into you like never before. You could barely breath, gasping for air as you felt your vagina began to vibrate due to stage of pleasure you were in. And just like that, your body began to run from the overstimulation of Dabi’s hot finger rubbing roughly against your clit as he drills your frame into the crevices of your mattress.

“Da-daddy I’m gonna’....” The words just couldn’t come out— he was begging to fuck you dumb.

You couldn’t feel nothing but Dabi’s dick pound into you, and if this was all you felt before you fell into a sex-coma than fuck it. It will forever and always be worth it.

It was like you were starting to see white. The feeling of one of his hands now roughly gripping your drooling expression closer to his face made you scream in pleasure, Dabi’s smirk leaving only to release a trail of saliva from his throat into the back of yours. You swallowed it with no hesitation, some of the residue slipping through your lips in a mix with your own spit as you began to drool at the feeling of his tip hitting that one spot over and over again.

And that’s when you felt it. You felt the build up, the pressure of holding back becoming too much as you belted into a mess of tears and tried to push his body off your own.

“No baby,” he roughly said, milking his cock into you even harder and rubbing pressured circles into your clit until a strong snapped within you and you saw nothing but white.

You weren’t sure if it was a sub-space you had entered, or some fucked up version of heaven people who just for their brains fucked out go, but either option felt like fair-game the minute your pussy began to squirt a mess of cum and other liquids from the space Dabi still found himself intruding. If anything boosted his confidence, it was this right here.

“Fuck yes baby, squirt for daddy,” he smirked, rubbing you harder and harder as your felt your body stiffen at the overstimulation, “fuck, you’re so hot.”

As soon as you, Dabi found himself cumming harder than he ever had, lips only being able to cry out a mantra of your name. He knew sex with you was amazing— but this was a new high he doesn’t think he’d ever went to let go of. He didn’t even have the energy to lift himself out of you, small drips of cum able to slip out of your swollen pussy making you flinch in both overstimulation and pain. The cockwarming brought chills to your arm, body sprawled underneath Dabi’s panting frame in nothing but a fucked our expression.

You felt him lift his head up, eyes glancing over your puffy closed ones and being able to do nothing more than steal a kiss from your tongue-licked lips. He knows the difference between “fucked-out” you and “genuinely-knocked-out” you, and you knew he knew the difference too. But he acted as if he didn’t.

And before Dabi could pass out on top of your sweaty and sticky frame, words he mumbled into your shoulder nearly burned into your skin. At least, just enough to make your pussy and lips twitch in nothing but contentness.

I crash, you crash. Forever and always.

Sex with Dabi was always the same— sure. It was rough, messy, and painfully over-stimulating, but it was Dabi, and it was more than enough for you.

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi’s heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he’s ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who’s life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi’s harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

“You’re gonna get tired of me one day,” he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, “you’re gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own.”

He wanted to think he wouldn’t care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn’t do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he’s ever known in his life for as long as he’d live.

“Hey,” you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

“You crash, I crash. Always.”

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cuttoothed · 3 years

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Day 7 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "You are my reason". Still living in post-200 AU land.

There comes a day when Jon doesn’t wake up afraid.

His alarm goes off before the sun rises; he wakes tired, but feeling a little thrill of anticipation, because he and Martin have plans today. Nothing earth shattering, but they’re both off work, and the weather is due to be nice, so they’re going hiking up in the hills. Jon’s been looking forward to this all week; he's even okay with being up at dawn on his day off.

The hike is challenging, but the views are worth it, as the morning clouds part into sunshine and leave them gazing out across the craggy, verdant landscape. At the crest of the trail, they sit on a boulder to eat sandwiches and drink tea from a flask; Martin spots some cows on the hillside below and points them out with delight. By the time they get back to the car, they’re exhausted, and they agree that nobody’s going to be cooking tonight, so it’s takeaway from the Indian place near their flat.

That evening they eat too much curry, and drink red wine, and end up curled sleepy and sated on the sofa together, watching nonsense on telly.

“This was a good day,” Jon says; Martin only hums in agreement, so it’s probably time to get him to bed.

It’s only as he’s brushing his teeth that Jon realizes that he hasn’t thought about the end of the world all day. He usually wakes up from dreams of the ruined world; at the very least, it’s always in the back of his mind, guilt and fear and grief tapping at the windows of his consciousness through the day. He’s never had a day where he didn’t think at all about what happened—about what he did.

The realization jolts sharply through him, like a missed step in the dark; it makes something drop like a stone into his stomach, though he doesn't understand why.

He tells his therapist about it at their next session, couched in the careful untruths he’s crafted to convey the vast weight of it all without mentioning the literal apocalypse. Stuart listens, nodding, as he describes what happened, and then when Jon is finished he says:

“You know this is a good thing, right?”

“S-sorry?”

“Trauma plants its roots deep, Jon. It’s pervasive, like chronic pain. The days you have without pain in your leg or your hand, those are good, right? Even though they don’t mean that you’re permanently healed?”

“Yes,” Jon admits, flexing his fingers.

“This is the same. Your trauma isn’t gone, but the fact that you were able to enjoy a whole day without thinking about what happened—that’s really, really good.”

“But I can’t just forget—” Jon starts, and he’s not sure what he’s trying to say; I can’t forget what happened, I can’t forget that it was my fault, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder for what’s coming next.

“Of course not,” Stuart agrees. “But part of healing is letting what happened move into the past. Not forgetting it, but recognizing that it isn’t part of your present. That you can move on.”

Except it is the present, in the thousands of worlds he unleashed the Fears into. It isn’t something that can just be forgotten, that he can move on from. They’ve seen and felt no trace of the Fears in this world yet, but even that doesn’t mean they won’t come; it may just be a matter of time. Jon feels his chest tighten with that knowledge, that fear.

“The people I hurt,” he says carefully. “It’s not in the past for them—they’re still hurt by my actions today.”

“That might be true,” Stuart says. “But from what you’ve told me, you can’t change that. And your guilt doesn’t help them. All it does is punish you.”

“Maybe I deserve to be punished,” Jon snaps angrily, but Stuart only smiles, his face kind.

“Nobody deserves to be punished forever, Jon. Eventually, you have to forgive yourself.”

They’re nice words, but Stuart can’t possibly understand what he’s asking Jon to do. He’s been responsible for immeasurable pain and fear, the unchecked torture of billions of people; he will be responsible for so much more, across thousands of worlds. His whole life has been nothing but a means to a horrifying end. How can he just absolve himself of guilt, enjoy this charmed life he’s somehow gained while damning countless others?

(How can he believe that the consequences will not find him, someday.)

Martin must notice his mood when he gets back from therapy, because it’s not five minutes before a mug of tea and a packet of Jon’s favorite biscuits are placed on the coffee table in front of him.

“All right?” Martin asks, sitting down on the sofa with his own tea. He never asks Jon questions about his therapy —just as Jon respects the privacy of Martin’s sessions—but if he thinks Jon is upset, he’ll ask an open question like this, so Jon knows the offer is there to talk about it.

Jon considers. He hasn’t told Martin about what happened—or rather didn’t happen—the day they went hiking, not wanting to spoil it for him. But Martin’s the only person in this entire world who can possibly understand how Jon is feeling, and he’s the person Jon trusts most. Jon doesn’t want to hide things from him, not anymore. They’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.

So he tells Martin what happened, and how it made him feel, and what Stuart said, and how that made him feel. At the end of it, Martin gives him a fond, teasing smile.

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re feeling bad for not feeling bad,” he says. “That is...so incredibly you, honestly.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Jon protests.

“I know it is. And I’m not trying to dismiss how you feel. I promise. It’s just…” Martin pauses, his brow furrowing as he considers what to say. “Sometimes, when I feel sad for no reason—when parts of me go sort of...numb, I start looking around, expecting to see the fog curling in under the windows. But it isn’t, because the Lonely isn’t here, and I have to deal with the fact that there’s no—no fear monster making me feel that way. It’s just me.”

“Martin…” says Jon, his heart aching. Martin doesn’t often talk about the bad days, after they’ve passed; he prefers to save it for his therapist, since “that’s what I pay them for”. He reaches for Martin’s hand, and Martin laces their fingers together.

“I think you’re the same,” Martin says. “Ever since we got here, you’ve been waiting for something bad to happen. For all of it to—to catch up with you. But it hasn’t. There’s no Fears coming after you, and there’s no...universal justice, or whatever, to punish you. It’s just you, Jon.”

Jon feels a lump in his throat, his eyes stinging. Has he been waiting all this time for something bad to happen, for the other shoe to drop? Has he thought of this as only temporary—a longer respite than that three weeks in the cottage, but just as impermanent? He shakes his head.

“That doesn’t take away from what I did,” he says. Martin nods.

“It doesn’t,” he says. “And nothing takes from the fact that I didn’t kill Jonah Magnus when I had the chance, either. We can’t change the past. We just have to find reasons to live with it. To carry on living. Now, as we are.”

“You know what my reason is,” Jon tells him, his voice thick with emotion; he told Martin a long time ago. Martin ducks his head, smiling, and his fingers squeeze around Jon’s.

“I know,” he says. “But it’s okay to have other reasons too. A nice hike in the hills, or going to the pub with some friends, or petting the many cats you seem to have befriended in our neighborhood. It’s okay to just...be happy, Jon. I promise.”

“I-I’m not sure I can,” Jon tells him; he’s not sure he deserves the chance to be.

“I know,” Martin says. “I know it’s difficult. But you do deserve it. And I’ll be here to keep telling you that until you believe it. I’ll be here to help you keep getting better, like you help me. As long as it takes.”

Jon feels a sob rising in his chest, and dives in to stifle it against Martin’s shoulder, burying his face in the solid expanse. He can feel the tears wetting his cheeks, soaking into Martin’s jumper, but he knows Martin won’t mind. Martin’s arms go around him.

“I hope you’re okay with the long haul, then,” he mumbles against Martin’s shoulder. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this, probably nothing, but he has it, and he doesn’t want to let it go. Martin chuckles warmly, petting his hair.

“That’s what I’m here for, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be your reason, if you’ll be mine.”

“That’s the deal, then?” Jon says; he’s not sure if he’s laughing or sobbing, but he knows he loves this man with all his heart.

“That’s the deal,” Martin agrees. And Jon might not deserve a deal like that, but he’d be a fool not to take it.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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blueskrugs · 3 years

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All Too Well | Chris Kreider

a lifetime ago (literally last fall), long before this was ever going to become a series, I wanted to write an all too well fic, and for some reason it always made sense in my head to be Chris. I started the google doc for this all the way back in november, and it’s finally, finally finished. as always, @broadstbroskis let me break her heart with this first. I hope you guys like it!

tagging: @kreiderrider @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline @himbos-on-ice @shortstacks-blog @nazdaddy @hockey-more-like @kerwritesthings

length: 3.2k words

You never expected to fall out of love with Chris. You both thought you were it for each other, saw a future and thought you’d be together forever. Or, at least, that’s what you had thought. You weren’t so sure what Chris thought anymore, not after how things ended.

Love was a funny thing, you supposed. What was breathtaking, earth-shattering for one person might not be the same for another, and what was heartbreaking for someone could be mundane for someone else. Why did people fall in love? Was it ever going to be worth it, if the best love you’d ever had, the one thing you had felt so sure of, left you feeling hollow and destroyed.

We're singing in the car getting lost upstate Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place And I can picture it after all these days

The Rangers had a long weekend late in the season, when it was just barely warm enough to warrant a light jacket and not three layers of sweaters at all times. Chris was itching to get out of New York, and had begged you to take Friday off so you could drive up to his house in Connecticut for a couple days, away from the noise and bustle, the people and their opinions. It honestly hadn’t taken that much to convince you, but, then again, you would do anything that promised a weekend alone with Chris’ cooking and a bottle of wine.

“C’mon, we’re going for a drive,” Chris said the next morning, swinging his keys around his fingers and dropping a kiss to the top of your head where you were sitting on the couch with your coffee.

“Where are we going?” you asked, but Chris was already walking towards the front door. You sighed and set your coffee mug down, getting up to follow him. “Where are we going?” you asked again as you slid into the passenger seat of his car.

Chris already had all the windows rolled down, and he was fishing in between the seats for his aux cord. He didn’t look up at you, just triumphantly pulled the cord out and plugged it into his phone.

“I told you, we’re going for a drive,” he said. You watched as he pulled open Spotify and scrolled until he found the playlist he was looking for. The familiar opening notes of an Aerosmith song started filtering through the speakers, and Chris carefully put his car in drive.

You resisted the urge to bug Chris more about it, and instead just settled in for the ride. It turned out that Chris really did just mean to go for a drive, winding through the backroads of his small town, your hair blowing out the window and the music turned up loud. The trees were beginning to bloom, and the whole world was tinged with green. The sun was high in the sky by the time Chris pulled over near a park and pulled a smaller cooler bag and a blanket from the backseat with a dorky flourish.

“Care for lunch?” he asked, leading you to a quiet spot on a grassy hill in the sunshine.

“Of course,” you replied, letting Chris spread out the blanket before you dug into the cooler bag. Lunch wasn’t anything fancy, just some sandwiches and fruit, but Chris grinned so big his eyes got all crinkly when you complimented him, so it was more than enough. You pulled out your phone to take a picture of Chris. His head was turned away from you and towards the sun, his short curls glowing in the light.

When you climbed back in the car, you set the picture as your lock screen.

Photo album on the counter Your cheeks were turning red You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed

You flopped down on Chris’ old bed with a laugh. He’d brought you home to Boston for a week in the summer, and you’d spent most of the last few hours flipping through old photos of Chris with his mom.

“You were a cute kid,” you said. Above you, there was a shelf full of medals and trophies from Chris’ youth hockey days.

He laid on the bed next to you. It wasn’t big enough for both of you, not really, and Chris was pressed against you, a warm line down the length of your body.

“If you had told me back then where I would be today, I probably wouldn’t have believed you,” Chris said honestly.

You sat up so you could look down at Chris, see him better. His eyes were on the trophies above the bed, relics of his past.

“What would you have done if you hadn’t made it to the NHL?” you asked quietly.

Chris shrugged, as best he could while he was still flat on his back on his tiny bed. He was quiet for a moment, like he was taking your question seriously.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I have that communications degree, but I was always more focused on hockey. I somehow didn’t think about what I would do after I graduated if I didn’t have hockey anymore.” He paused. “I’ve always liked English a lot. Reading and analyzing stuff, writing papers, I was always good at that. I should’ve been an English major, huh,” he said with a rueful smile.

“And what would you have done with an English degree?” you asked.

Chris stuck his tongue out at you, but he had an answer ready this time. He sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, saying, “I’ve always thought it would be cool to teach. I think it would be fun to go to another country and teach English as a second language or something.”

You looked carefully at Chris. “I can see you doing that,” you said honestly.

Chris beamed. “And you’d come with me right?” he asked, reaching out to pull you into his lap.

You let yourself be pulled, cupping Chris’ cheeks and giving him a gentle kiss. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

You tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me

You laid in bed with Chris late one night, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. Outside his bedroom window, through a crack in the curtains where they hadn’t been pulled shut all the way, fat snowflakes drifted past. You were dozing, in between the heavy pull of a sleep and fully awake, your head pillowed on Chris’ arm and your legs tangled together. Absently, you traced the raised scar on his chest with a finger.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me the story of this,” you murmured, still running your finger across Chris’ chest. You knew the story, a little, actually, from what had been posted about it in the media when it happened, but Chris didn’t really talk about it, aside from occasional jokes about his ridiculous diet.

Chris hummed, and you felt it in his chest. You pressed your palm flat to his pec for a moment before he was reaching up with his free arm and tangling his fingers with yours and tugging your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it. You tilted your chin up to look at Chris, found he was already looking down at you. He was still holding your hand.

“It was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through,” he admitted. “For the first time in my life, hockey wasn’t the most important thing. All I wanted to focus on was getting healthy again and staying healthy. Obviously getting back to the team was a goal, but, for a while, it was the farthest thing from my mind.”

You hummed quietly to let Chris know you were still listening. He was absently rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“It was...terrifying,” Chris whispered. “I felt like I was about to lose everything. I didn’t have a backup plan. I didn’t have any plan. I didn’t know who I could be without hockey, but I didn’t really have much of a choice.” Chris paused and took a deep breath. “Once I was able to start working out and skating again, I was working so hard to catch back up, but sometimes I wondered if it was all worth it, you know?”

You didn’t know, not really. You’d never lived for something the way Chris lived to play hockey, had never spent so many years of your life training to be the best. You didn’t know how to put that into words, or how to explain to Chris that you wanted to be there for him through it all, so you just propped yourself up over him to press a kiss to his lips. Chris reached up to tangle his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. It was late, and your eyes were beginning to burn, but you let Chris reel you in, both of you putting everything you couldn’t articulate into words into the kiss.

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece ‘Til you tore it all up

He took the coward’s way out, in the end. You went away from the city for a long weekend with friends and came home to find your shared apartment deserted, half-empty. The air was stuffy and stale, like no one had been in your apartment for days. Everything that Chris had owned was gone: his clothes, his books, his keyboard and guitar from the spare bedroom. He’d left the throw pillows you’d bought on the old, comfy leather couch he’d brought with him when you’d moved in, and you threw one at the wall. It didn’t make you feel any better.

You sat on the cold hardwood floor and stared up at the ceiling, because sitting on the couch that had been “his,” then “ours,” and now was just “yours,” felt wrong somehow, and tried to figure out what went wrong. Except you couldn’t figure it out. You’d been talking about adopting a dog, you’d talked about ring shopping. Had you scared him away? Where was the man who held you while he slept next to you each night? What had you done to deserve this, not even enough decency for a proper goodbye?

You called him one night, a little drunk and a lot exhausted, and you listened while the line rang endlessly, until you heard the familiar, “Hey, it’s Chris,” of his voicemail started. You hung up without leaving a message. After a minute of staring at the phone, still glowing bright white in the darkness of your bedroom, you deleted his number, too.

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest

You’d RSVPd as Chris’s plus-one for Mika and Irma’s wedding. You’d honestly completely forgotten about it, had forgotten about the perfect dress you’d found that was now shoved into the back of your closet, even as the days crept closer to the date still marked on your calendar.

You were making dinner one night when your phone rang, an unfamiliar phone number with a Boston area code. You answered without thinking too much about it– or the fact that the only person you’d ever known from Boston had been Chris.

“Hello?” you said, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could keep stirring your pasta.

“Uh, hey,” a familiar voice said on the other end of the line. You nearly dropped your spoon. “So Mika’s wedding is in a few weeks,” Chris went on, not waiting for you to respond. Which was good because you honestly didn’t know what to say to him.

“And?” you prompted, even though you thought you knew where this was going.

“They, uh, need to know if you’ll still be coming, and I said I would call you to ask,” Chris said. He sounded casual, and you could hear his fucking jazz music playing quietly in the background.

You carefully turned off your burner with a click. “And why couldn’t Mika or Irma call me themselves?”

“Well, they’re so busy with all the last minute stuff, and, you know, I know we didn’t exactly end on the best of terms, so I just wanted to make sure you knew it would be okay if you came. Like, I won’t start anything.”

You laughed, humorless and bitter. “Do you think I need your permission? We didn’t end on good terms because you took the easy way out and left me. Do you really think I’m the type of person to start a fight with my ex at a friend’s wedding?” Chris made a dissenting noise, but you didn’t let him start talking again. “I’m so glad it’s ‘okay’ that I come to the wedding, that you’ll be fine if you see me again after you broke my heart.”

“That’s not-” Chris started, but you cut him off again.

“Give Mika and Irma my best,” you spat. You hung up the phone and tossed it angrily onto the counter.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel much like eating dinner anymore.

Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it I’d like to be my old self again But I’m still trying to find it

You hated how your life could be starkly divided into “before Chris” and “after Chris.” You hadn’t felt like you’d changed drastically while you were dating him, but now that you weren’t, you felt like you no longer knew who you had been before him. You’d grown and matured as you’d fallen in love, and without that love, you were left feeling hollow, a shell of yourself. You kept going to work, and you went out with friends, but it felt like you were playing a role you were no longer cut out for.

Days turned to months, and the seasons changed slowly. You’d grown comfortable calling New York your home, but now walking down the city streets made the towering buildings feel like they were closing in on you. Routines were easy, but your morning coffee from the café around the corner just didn’t taste the same, anymore.

You’d had to move to a smaller apartment after Chris had left. You couldn’t afford the rent by yourself, and there were too many memories wrapped up in those sheets. Laughing so hard you cried while Chris cooked dinner. Chris pulling you in for a kiss, both of you in well-worn Boston College T-shirts. Dozing on the couch while waiting up for Chris to come home. Chris playing piano for you, or slow dancing in the middle of the living room with one of his vinyls playing.

You left his couch behind, but you wouldn’t call it moving on.

You didn’t know how long it had been before you looked in the mirror and started recognizing the person looking back at you. Your smile reached your eyes more often than not. You were cleaning out old photos from your phone, and you came across that one from the park in Connecticut that had been your lock screen for so long. Your thumb hovered over the delete button for a long moment while you smiled at the memory of that day. You carefully pressed “delete photo,” and you didn’t feel anything.

Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known

For years, you were the one Chris came home to. After wins and after losses, years they missed the playoffs, and years with early exits. He’d told you he’d loved you, in the early hours of the night, in between kisses, on the phone with the miles stretching between you. You’d made a home together, warm and cozy and loving, filled with good food and good friends.

You’d blinked, and it had all been gone.

The video crossed your feed more times than you could count before you finally clicked on it. It was a casual offseason interview Chris had done, sitting in the familiar living room of his Connecticut home. Chewie was sitting on the couch next to him, happily holding a ball in his mouth. It was the first time you’d seen Chris in...a while. His hair was grown out as much as he’d ever allow it, curls sticking up in various directions.

The interviewer asked the standard questions about the Rangers– stuff about the previous season, stuff about the upcoming season– and questions about Chris’ offseason training and plans for the summer. You didn’t pay too much attention, honestly, because you hadn’t had any real reason to follow the Rangers after Chris had left. You still couldn’t bring yourself to stop watching. It was the final question that caught your attention.

“So, we’ve talked a lot about hockey, but what about your personal life?” the interviewer asked, a smirk on her face. “Got anyone waiting up at home for you?”

Chris grinned. He reached out to ruffle Chewie’s ears. “I’ve got this dude, he hogs the blankets in bed and begs for scraps from the dinner every night,” he said. His smile turned wistful. “No, I- I used to have someone, but, uh, it’s been a while since that ended.” He paused again. “We had a really good thing going, actually. I miss it, miss them, but, um, I messed up big time. I honestly don’t know if I could find love like that again, to be honest,” he finished.

You stared at your phone, struck speechless. You hadn’t expected Chris to talk about your relationship like that, voice full of fondness, not after the way he’d left, or after the last conversation you’d had. The interview was ending, goodbyes and thank yous being said, but you didn’t hear any of it. Your phone screen dimmed, then went dark, but you were still staring blankly at it. Your heart ached in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

He’d been right, maybe. You weren’t sure either of you would find a love like that again. It had been easy with Chris. You’d dated some since the breakup, but you hadn’t found anyone you could connect to the same way, quick banter and deep conversations. You would find love again someday, someone who made you happy and loved you with everything they had, but nothing would touch what you had with Chris. You couldn’t go back, either. That bridge had been burned a long time ago.

It made you feel better, in a strange way, that Chris had regrets. Hearing his voice again was comforting in a way you hadn’t anticipated, but hearing him express regret was even more comforting.

A part of you would always love Chris, probably. He’d stolen your heart, and he’d taken it with him when he’d left. In time, you’d be able to look back on your time together with fondness yourself, nostalgia coloring the hurt he’d wrought upon you. You wondered if he’d forget about you one day, or if he’d always have that wry smile on his face when he talked about you.

You’d never expected to fall out of love with Chris, but you did, eventually.

#cait writes things #the swift series #chris kreider #chris kreider fic #chris kreider imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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haik-choo · 4 years

Text

haikyuu boys through lovers’ eyes

atlernate title: how you see the haikyuu boys.

-tsukishima, oikawa, kageyama, yamaguchi, sugawara, iwaizumi, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, hinata

tsukishima’s hair is the color of ready-to-harvest wheat; it’s the color of a farmer’s pride after a season’s worth of maintenance and hard work. his eyes are similar, but they shine with a golden glint. they’re riddled with the fear of passion, the fear of giving your all and still falling, but they’re hopeful. long blonde eyelashes adorn his citrine eyes like a thick blanket -- thick enough to make you jealous. his teasing smirk when he pokes fun at your envy is filled with love; his words are harsh and unrelenting but they have a caring undertone that warms your heart. his skin is as smooth as marble and when you run your fingers across it you almost can’t stop. when your touch lingers for too long tsukishima’s face flushes peach, his eyebrows creasing in embarrassment. his slender fingers gently grab your hand and interlaces your fingers together, his hypnotizing gaze anywhere but you. just gazing at him fills your heart with a want, no -- a need for him. the more you look at your lover, the longer you love tsukishima, the more you want to prove to him that the passion he pours into you will never go to waste.

true beauty comes from the inside, oikawa proves. his flirty smile that he throws to others, his piercing gaze, his whole outside demeanor takes a backseat to the true oikawa. the sweat that drips off him after he hits his twenty-fifth jump serve in a row is beautiful. his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, pink from constant biting, is breathtaking. his honest hands that tell the truth no matter what (like when he yelled at you to leave, but was still gripping the sleeve of your shirt with shaky fingers or the time when he said he was mad at you but was still caressing your cheek), are graceful. oikawa’s umber hair that whisped upwards with the gentle pass of wind and deep dirt-colored eyes were undeniably attractive. his lips that curled with mischief were pretty, and his tall figure that protected you was, too. but the faint warm smell of a flower meadow after a sun shower that he emitted coupled with the loving words he whispered to you at night as he twirled your hair around his finger meant so much more. oikawa was beautiful, yes, but for all the reasons that others who weren’t you didn’t know, and never will. his true beauty is meant just for you.

akaashi’s steel-blue eyes are underlined by heavy purple eyebags, but they’re a testament to his hard-working and reliable nature, so you think they’re beautiful. his cool midnight hair curls randomly, messily framing his concentrated face. sharp inexpressive eyebrows sit atop his eyes, giving off indifference, but his mind wanders aimlessly most the time. he dresses quick-and-comfortably in hopes of high function, not hopes of looking good, yet he still manages to steal the show. he tucks his neck and chin in the warmth of his large white ribbed turtle-neck, only allowing his sharp eyes to be seen. they’re almost always looking at you. his soft, uncalloused hands drift over to your leg, and his thumb rubs your knee lovingly. despite being good with words, he rarely found the courage to say them aloud, but he always thought them. actions were his preferred way of proving his love: making coffee in the morning for you as soon as you woke up, stopping work at eleven pm no matter what to focus on you (it was still late but it’s the thought that counts), and kissing you every morning and every night. his rosy lips tell you the truth much more honestly than any group of words he could ever string together.

one-track-mindedness is a virtue in kageyama. there’s something so compelling about his utter confidence in himself and his talents. his confidence comes from the way the ball slides against his calloused hands, its the way his eyes find the best spot on the court to hit the ball, its how he constantly improves. sure, his hair was a cool midnight black (that was cut a little weirdly) and his denim eyes captured your attention with ease, not to mention that his rare once-in-a-lifetime smile caused butterflies to flutter their translucent wings in your stomach -- but he paid no mind to his physical features (seriously, have you seen his hair?). the physical things he took pride in were the bruises littering his legs, the olympic gold medals that hung on his wall, the way his lips molded with yours like plaster. he loves his muscles and how they shift around underneath his skin, pulling together and pushing apart as he reaches for something in the upper kitchen cabinet because they allow him to play volleyball to the best of his ability. he loves the sport, it’s his dream. he loves his body, because it supports his dream. and most of all, he loves you, because even as his body ages and his fingers tremble and struggle to pick up the ball with both hands when he once could pick it up with just one, loving you will never get harder.

never did you think yamaguchi’s forest green hair would cause your ears to burn and heart to beat faster than usual. but now, you wonder how you ever lived without him. though, it wasn’t just his soft hair; it was his timid but loyal demeanor, it was his loving eyes and how they took in every detail of you and valued you for everything you were, it was how his arms made you feel as they wrapped around your waist: safe, warm, secure. just as a forest with lush green leaves thrived, yamaguchi’s dark green irises were bursting with life. his smile was a little brighter than you remembered when he was younger, he was more sure of himself. his eyes didn’t waver when you met them or move away when you stared too long. his hands gestured in the air wildly when he was excited, no shame in his child-like passion. yamaguchi was no timid highschool boy who lived with regrets anymore. he lives everyday with new hope in his eyes, proud of himself now and who he was in the past. he even learns to love the freckles that splattered like stars against his softly tanned skin. he hated them at one time, but after you told him that he gets a new one every time you two kiss, he learns to love them.

the sun burns bright against a cool blue sky, but hinata’s smile manages to burn brighter, hotter than the faraway star (and so does his hair). he belongs in the sky, what with his dazzling smile that blinds unsuspecting patrons and his glass-like orbs of honeydew that hold giant hydrogen-burning supernovas within them. maybe that was a little much, describing him that way. but he seemed otherworldly, like someone you’ve met in a past life, a past universe. his white smile stretches across his face, his eyes narrowing into excited slits, cheeks red, giggle coming from his throat. there’s never been anything more perfect; a look of pure joy and ambition. even when he’s five sets into a game, sweat dripping down his golden skin like rain in spring, chest heaving up and down, begging for air; he’s so alive. there’s a fire in his eyes, lava in his veins. hinata burns so bright, feels so hot against your skin, that you can feel yourself melt when you touch him. he scalds anyone that steps foot into his life, leaving them with a scar, evidence of his passion. no one is the same after that. you’re not the same now, not with his head on your chest and his hand in yours -- but you don’t need to be. you don’t want to be. because then, you were a cold, lifeless planet, surface barren and plain. but his arrival, his scalding arrival, brought warmth, attracted water-filled asteroids -- gave you life. hinata was your sun, and you’d spend an eternity revolving around him.

sugawara has hazel-brown eyes that somehow captivate you. somehow, simple brown eyes surrounded by light gray eyelashes captivate you. you can see the world in their reflection, and it shocks you how beautiful his honey eyes make the world seem. his hair is the shade of a rainy cloud, yet it still somehow brings smiles. people surround him naturally, his demeanor accepting and friendly, and every person around him always has joy evident on their face. his extrovert-tendencies reduce down to nothing only when in your presence alone, though. at home he plops down next to you, the smooth skin of his face resting on your clothed shoulder, a heavy sigh leaving his peach lips as he mutters about just wanting to hold you. then the same captivating eyes flick upwards to you, and it happens again, time stops. you look so beautiful reflected in his eyes -- is this how he sees you? his hands cup your face to bring you down to his level, and his lips cover yours lovingly. sugawara is an enigma, and maybe you’ll never figure him out or know exactly what he’s thinking, but you think that maybe, just maybe, if he continues to look at you like you’re his whole world in his russet eyes, you don’t mind staying by his side forever.

despite the uneven blend of the blonde and black of kenma’s hair, there’s something about it that makes you want to run your fingers through the locks. the reason may lie in his golden eyes and how they compel you to do things you never thought you’d do. things like make your heart pound fast, things like spontaneously kissing the cat-like boy next to you in a fit of loving emotions. kenma’s hands are not like other setters; they’re soft and constantly cold, begging for your warmth. the pads of his fingers and his knuckles are a light pink, much like the apples of his cheeks when he’s near you. his hands aren’t very big, but when they envelop yours they somehow still make you feel safe. his face has never been very emotive, but his mouth gives you hints on his inner thoughts, the smallest quirk of his small lips giving leeway to whats on his mind. in a way, it makes him easy to read. but you’ve never needed those small hints for kenma puts his emotions on full display just for you. only for you. he really is like a cat; it takes time to warm up to you, but when he does, he willingly reveals the soft plush of his stomach to you; he willingly lets you through the closed doors of his guarded heart.

iwaizumi’s muscles shift beautifully underneath his tan skin as he stretches, his arms raising upwards, reaching for the sun. they relax as he settles down next to you on the couch and loosely throws an arm over your shoulder. as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone, you take the time to admire him in all his california-glory. he’s darker than in high school, the beaches in california gently toasting him to the perfect shade of golden brown. his skin brings out the green in his olive-green eyes, and silently you thank whatever gods exist for taking their time on him. his hair is slightly longer than before, though still cut unevenly, yet you want to curl your finger around his short strands of chocolate brown hair. looking closer to his face, you notice that even his face is less tense than when you were younger; he’s mellowed out. not that he’s any less competitive (ask oikawa), but he’s more gentle. small details pop out to you the more you stare, like the small barely-there freckles that litter his nose, or the sun-dyed lighter brown tips of his hair, or the slight sunburn that rests atop his nose from his recent trip out in the sun (you’ll remind him to wear more sunscreen later). But what you notice most of all is the soft smile on his dusty-rose lips. briefly, you wonder what’s got him smiling, but then you see his eyes are focused on your mouth, and the gentle angle in which he’s leaning, and you know exactly what he’s so happy about. you close your eyes, and meet him in the middle.

there’s a shocking softness to bokuto’s demeanor; despite his hard plays and hard muscular body, his face and personality radiate warmth. it must be the way his large, round ashen-brown eyes look at a person with excitement dancing in them. or maybe it’s the surprisingly tender way he reaches a large hand out to touch your shoulder, completely opposite to his enthused mood. but, honestly, you know why he seems to soft. it’s because his heart beats for you. it’s because when he sees you, he wants nothing more than to embrace you and let the air become serene, his scent filling your nose as yours fills his. as he pulls you into a kind hug, you can feel yourself melt into him, his chest like a bed of pillows, soft yet firm, his body giving off the perfect amount of heat, his hands rubbing your back soothingly. you can feel him grin against your scalp as he kisses your hair softly. when he pulls back to look at you deeply, his expressive grey eyebrows seem to lessen in their harsh angle, and they lay nearly flat. bokuto’s multi-colored hair almost curls with love, a deviation from it’s pin-straight nature. a few more seconds pass and he pulls you back into his chest: you stay still, inhaling his comforting scent, heart full from the love he’s feeding you.

a/n: oikawa’s ‘honest hands’ come from @cranbearly‘s iwaoi art !

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agent-cupcake · 3 years

Note

IDK why but yandere prompt 10 screams sylvain to me! it's okay if you dont wanna do this one, though. thank you for opening requests! ive really enjoyed all your writings

10. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”

Sylvain didn’t greet you when you took a seat beside him, ready for the meeting to be called. Agriculture wasn’t a particular interest of yours, but it was a part of your duty as the wife of an important, land-owning lord to be invested in the affairs of Gautier territory. For his part, your husband didn’t seem terribly enthused. Just as you were about to ask if he was okay, he spoke.

“Who was he?” Sylvain asked in a would-be casual voice, low enough to be lost in the mindless chatter of the slowly filling council room.

The question usually went something like that, innocuous but pointed enough for you to know where it was headed. And you knew who and what he was referring to, knew it so intently that you felt a completely unreasonable stab of guilt because you knew how Sylvain was, how he might have interpreted your interaction with one of the male mages working on the current project. As familiar as the question was, you couldn’t immediately guess the tone. Sylvain was tricky, always masking his intentions behind playful masks and a glip front.

“Who?” you asked, playing dumb. That sometimes worked. If it seemed like you were innocent, he might drop it and move on. It would be incriminating if you admitted that you knew what he meant right away. And if he was just teasing, playing around to fill the part of the protective husband, you didn’t mind the role of the oblivious wife. Really, you wished you were that type of woman. Blind to the world, and especially the men, around you. Everything would be so much easier.

"That guy you were talking to,” Sylvain explained, dangerously nonchalant. “The two of you seemed pretty close.”

“Really? We only met… Mmm, last week?” you replied, refusing to meet his eye or become flustered. That would just make you seem guilty. Which you weren’t. “He’s from Fhirdiad, one of the mages who are working on solutions to fertilizing the soil in the fields near the Fraldarius border.” You hesitated, searching for something to add, something to change the subject and ease the tension. “Um, the tests so far have been really encouraging. They’re thinking that next spring they can have at least half of that land ready for production.”

"Yeah, I heard about that,” Sylvain said, nodding off your attempt to distract him. “I was just asking ‘cause you were laughing pretty hard.”

There it was. Sylvain’s tone, as you had come to know quite intimately, was cool, a little stiffer than his usual way of speaking. Lacking inflection. It was always like that with him. He never told you outright when he thought or felt or explained his stark shift in demeanor, always skirting around the subject with those needling little questions, maintaining his façade of indifference even as a storm brewed behind his dark eyes. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, he told you that he’d never experienced jealousy before you. He told you that it hurt. Was this pain? Was that what made everything so uneasy and uncomfortable, leaving you scrambling to find the words to ease his mind?

You forced a faint smile, clinging to your innocence. “Was I?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain said, clearly not buying it. If anything, his eyes just narrowed. “You were.”

“We were just discussing his work. If I was laughing, I don’t…” You shook your head, forcing a shrug. “Please don’t get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?” he asked. “I was just wondering who he is.”

“For no reason,” you said, some of your frustration leaking through.

“Yeah, sure, for no reason,” Sylvain agreed in an amicably flat tone. “Although now I’m curious about why you’re so defensive.” He paused, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I guess he was kinda handsome. Are you worried I’m jealous?”

“That’s not-”

“‘Cause I’m not…” he insisted. “Unless there’s a reason I should be.”

There wasn’t. There never was. You never thought like that. But he did. Sylvain always did, those too keen eyes of his following you around, waiting for you to slip up in some way, to do something for him to misinterpret in the most uncharitable ways he could. Even if it was ignored, unspoken, willed out of existence through the sheer force of his adoration, yours was not a relationship born out of the stuff of romantic novels or even the clumsy affections of young lovers. For as obsessively insistent he once was in proving your own feelings to you, sometimes it was like Sylvain didn’t believe it when you told him you loved him and only him. Because there was a time―such a long time ago, hardly worth remembering―when you didn’t mean it. Even though you did now, that memory was his constant anxiety, an endless tension lingering right below the surface.

“I don’t want to fight,” you finally said, spreading your hands out in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, to convince him of your innocence. “I swear that it meant nothing. But… but if it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t talk to him again. I really, honestly don’t care.”

“Sheesh, you make me sound like I’m some sort of control freak,” Sylvain said with an air of coolly playful offense, leaning back in his chair. “Why would you even assume I’m trying to fight?”

“I don’t-”

“I’m not,” he said before you could really respond. Not loudly, never loud enough to draw any unnecessary attention to the two of you. Sylvain always knew exactly how to skirt the line of propriety in public. “It’s not like it’s even my business who you talk to. I’m only your husband. No big deal, really.”

“It is!” you insisted, heat burning at the back of your eyes. Realizing you’d spoken a bit too loud, you softened your voice, glancing around the room to ensure nobody heard the slip-up. “You are. Of c-course you are.” Maybe it was the trembling of your bottom lip as you stared hard at the table to fight off the tears burning your eyes that made regret flash over Sylvain’s face. Sometimes, when he was in a very particular type of mood, your crying only spurred him on, but not now.

“H-hey,” Sylvain told you, leaning close and draping his arm across your shoulders. “Don’t cry. I was just playing around. Guess I let it go too far.” Now he seemed apologetic, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

You met his eyes, confusion and distress giving away to understanding. Of course Sylvain had only been pretending. And you had been overreacting, always too sensitive to this kind of thing. Embarrassment followed the momentary emotional lapse, frustration that you wouldn’t just go along with his antics and had to go and make it all weird. Relief, too. It was just pretend, after all. He wasn’t upset with you.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Sylvain asked sweetly, pulling you towards him with the arm around your shoulders, his soft voice tickling your ear.

“You’re too mean,” you told him. But the words weren’t serious. They made him smile fondly, such a dramatic shift from the Sylvain of only minutes before.

“I’ve gotta keep you on your toes,” he said. “You never know what’s going on in the heads of pretty girls like you. I mean, imagine if I lost you to a guy who studies dirt. I’d never live it down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you told him, leaning into the half embrace.

“Isn’t it? But, you know, I can’t help it.” Sylvain leaned in even closer, speaking in such a low, intimate way that it definitely pushed the lines of propriety, even for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t have you.”

#sylvain jose gautier #fe sylvain #sylvain jose gautier x reader #fe sylvain x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #look i almost feel bad #why is he acting like this #also this is so short orange you impressed #i should be writing an essay but who needs motifs when you can have #sylvain just emotionally abusing you #uh anyway i have one like this for claude i found hiding in my old wips but that might be more painful #physically i mean #claude is a nice gentle soul

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parkers-gal · 3 years

Text

why pt. ii T.H.

wc: 1.7k

when you’re never truly over them

Tom had left for the press tour. After staying up all night crying and sobbing to the point of almost growing sick, he had left. He should've texted you, should've ran after you the minute you slammed the door on his face.

To be honest, you weren't as heartbroken as you thought you would've been. The events leading up to this 'break-up' had pretty much prepared you for the worst. It was only a matter of time before the tension broke and somebody exploded; you had expected it, but you hadn't expected to break up with him. You also didn't expect him to actually leave for the press tour, but Tom was full of surprises.

Now, in May, you were beginning to pack up your belongings into boxes. Tom hadn't made it easy though, because it was your house too. Everything you owned was a constant reminder of the person you used to be: happy and carefree, vulnerable and raw. Tom had destroyed that person, and all for a few week's worth of partying with a jerk he knew from school.

Each time you grew sad, you thought about everything that went wrong, and anger bubbled within you. You were stuck in this loop, lost on where to go next.

[Your Best friend] was helping you through the entire thing. And while she was completely supportive of your decision to move out, she also knew that you'd be better off with Tom. You had never been happier in your entire lifetime, and she knew your stubborn demeanor would only cause more destruction.

She had called Tom the moment you stepped back into that house with a box. He picked up on the second ring, slightly confused as to why she would call him.

"Hello?"

"Thomas," [your best friend] deadpanned.

"What- uh.. what's up?"

"You need to keep fighting."

"Fighting?" Tom repeated, confusion lacing his voice.

"Fighting for you and Y/N," she had replied. "You can't give up, not now, after everything you've been through. You can't tell me it's not worth the effort."

Tom was silent for a minute. Not because he thought she was wrong, but because he wasn't sure how he could keep fighting when it seemed as though you had already given up.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Tom, you can't solve this problem from across the world. You need to be here, with her, for her."

"She doesn't want me."

"That's not true, and you know it. Cut the bullshit or you won't ever get her back." And with that, [your best friend] had hung up.

Harrison was also supportive of the idea of getting you two back together; Tom was more of a mess than he would admit. He was knee deep in his own sorrow and pity. It seemed as though there was no motivation when you weren't there supporting him.

While you weren't together, that didn't mean you stopped supporting him. Tom was an important part of your life, and you could never stop loving him. Despite what you said that night, you could never truly stop your affection for the brown-eyed-boy.

"Y/N," [your best friend] spoke. It was week two of the move, and she was watching you pack. "C'mon, stop."

"What?" You replied, somewhat bitterly.

"I know you don't want to leave this."

"This?" you said, hand gestures motioning to the room around you. "What is 'this'?"

"This life, these people," she replied. "You still love hi-"

But she didn't get to finish her sentence, because the front door had just closed. Your brows furrowed in confusion, because neither Tom nor Harrison were due back for months; they were the only other people who had a key to the house.

You were out of the bedroom in seconds, jogging down the stairs as [your best friend] followed you. When you reached the bottom, you froze, your jaw lightly open as you stared at who had just arrived.

It was Tom, clad in grey sweats and a black tee shirt. Harrison was behind him, setting the luggage near the coat hanger as he looked to [your best friend], both of them simultaneously leaving the room.

"Y/N," Tom had said after a few moments of silence.

You didn't reply, only looking up to his eyes before crossing your arms and looking at your feet shyly. Memories of a similar encounter had just flooded through your mind. Your first date, the first time you slept together, all of it similar in a fashion of shyness and awkwardness, but never tension.

"I didn't think you'd actually move out."

At this, you glanced up. "What else was I supposed to do? Stay here until you came back?"

He looked at you as if you were supposed to know the answer; know what he wanted, and you did.

"God, Tom. I don't need you, you know? I'm not completely, 100 percent dependent on you. I'm not a baby, and you can't honestly expect me to come running to you whenever I need help."

"I never said you needed me," Tom defended.

"You didn't have to say it. We both knew it."

"Bullshit, Y/N."

"Bullshit?" You interrupted.

"I've never once thought that."

"Bullshit!" You repeated.

"C'mon, you can't honestly say that I've thought of you that way," he said, his hand moving in a gesture.

"Really?" You laughed sarcastically.

"What?" Tom spoke harshly. "Is that hard to believe? I know you aren't dependent on anyone else, Y/N. Don't try to twist this."

Your eyes were wide as you took in his words, more frustration bubbling up inside you. "Twist this?" You motioned between the two of you before your hands went up in defeat. "I didn't twist anything! I'm just trying to expose what you fucked up!"

"What 'I fucked up'?" Tom repeated, his eyes rolling in disbelief. "There are two people in this relationship!"

"A relationship that failed because of one person!" You screamed finally.

"And you're suggesting that was me?"

"Well it's not like I did anything!" You argued. "I broke this off because you were doing more harm then good!"

"It was just a phase!" Tom debated.

"Being an asshole isn't a phase," You spat out. "It's developed, and you were with just the right people for it to show."

"You're calling me a secretive asshole, now?"

"Your words, Tom! Not mine," You yelled. "Did I fucking say that? Ever? I said you were an asshole!"

"Yeah, but you implied that I've always been an asshole!"

"You shouldn't have been an asshole in the first place!" You replied, walking away from the front door and heading into the living room to fill the box that was sat near the couch. Tom followed in suit, wondering where Harrison and [your best friend] had gone, because he knew the yelling wasn't over, and it would echo throughout the house, regardless of where they were hiding.

"Honestly, Tom," you started. "Did you only come back to start another argument?"

His face was deep in confusion, his eyes rolling once again. "I came back to fix us."

" 'Us,' Tom? I've already told you: there is no us."

"You know that's not true."

At this, you were silent. A part of you longed to be back in his arms, but the sensible part of you knew he royally fucked up, and mending things between you two wouldn't be this easy.

"Then what're you gonna do?" You asked after a moment. "Keep arguing? Keep screwing up?" You looked him in the eye with a harsh stare. "Or are you gonna grow up and take responsibility? 'M not your girl anymore."

As your sentence ended, your voice grew quieter, the truth finally exposed. Both of you were varieties of broken and vulnerable, frustration and anger threatening to spill out in the form of endless salty tears. Both of you were slightly panting, breathing noises being the only contribution to noise in the entire house.

Tom was a few feet away from you, his curls disheveled from when he was previously running his hands through them. When your last sentence finished, something in his eyes had snapped, and he was moving forward and closer to you, alarmingly fast.

And then, he was kissing you. Each of his hands were holding your face. He was slightly shaking, and that was when you realized he was crying. The kiss was deep and passionate and overwhelmingly emotional. He tasted just how you remembered: like cinnamon. His lips were warm and soft and enveloping, and the minute he made contact, you had melted into his touch. Tom was your greatest weakness, though you wish he didn't have such an affect on you. Tom had a soft spot for you and you only, and it never failed to swoon you and win you over.

The kiss seemed to last for hours, and you weren't complaining. You had missed this. When it ended, Tom was still holding your face as your foreheads touched. Both of you were breathing even harder, but your arms were around his neck now. He held you tight and lovingly, almost as if you would slip right through his fingers and out of his grasp like you had a few weeks ago. He was lightly sniffling, but the tears had stopped falling.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of Tom. You were almost nostalgic, and the idea of being his was what brought you out of your daze.

Tom was staring at you now, looking down into your eyes and taking in your beauty. He didn't know how he could be so stupid and clumsy when it came to your love, and he promised himself he wouldn't ever make that mistake again. You were a powerful woman who knew what she deserved, and what Tom gave you wasn't it. You deserved love and affection and care and intimacy and warmth and commitment, things Tom was certain would come in the future.

After a considerably long moment of silence, Tom spoke. His voice was rough and raspy and deep, and he was whispering. His lips were barely touching yours; just ghosting over them, anticipation for what was to come next: words or action. For you, words came first. "I'm still in love with you."

And then he kissed you again.

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland series #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x baker!reader #tom holland angsty fic #tom holland fluffy fic #tom holland angst to fluff #angst with a fluffy ending #tom x reader #tom fic

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Note

4 // Coney Island for our boy Tyler

from the evermore prompt list

“The question pounds my head, What's a lifetime of achievement / If I pushed you to the edge?” - coney island

He couldn’t possibly be doing this.

As you and your three children, five and under, stood waiting in the hallway, you found yourself glancing at the clock hung on the wall every thirty seconds or so. With each minute that passed, the sinking within you opened up wider, threatening to swallow you whole.

Tyler should’ve been home by now. The game ended an hour and a half ago, and you and the kids had left the arena with a couple minutes left to ensure you’d make it home in time to pull off the surprise. The kids had burst through the door to grab the cards they had made earlier in the week, and you headed to the freezer to retrieve the cake you’d arranged to have sent all the way from Tyler’s favorite bakery in Brampton.

You sighed as you heard the kids excitedly buzzing around the first floor, wishing that you could feel even an inkling of the giddiness they had ahead of their father’s arrival. Things between you and Tyler had been strained for many months, and you had to battle your own bitterness to even acknowledge his birthday at all. You told yourself you were doing this for your kids. For the kids — not for him.

But as the clock neared 11 with no sign of Tyler, anxiety hummed within you. He had bailed countless times in the last few months — hell, in the last few years, if you were being honest with yourself. But today was his 35th birthday. The kids had been at school and daycare all day and hadn’t yet been able to give him the traditional birthday hugs and kisses that had become customary in your family since your oldest was born. He knew you were here waiting, the kids now long past their typical bedtimes.

There was just no way he could possibly do this.

Just as you were about to suggest that the kids head upstairs and put their pajamas on while they waited, your phone buzzed in your back pocket, the blood draining from your face as the hope drained from your heart.

The kids were still giggling and bouncing around, entertaining each other, blissfully unaware of the chaos brewing inside you. You took the opportunity to silently slip through the French doors into Tyler’s office to take the phone call.

Of course, it was him. You wondered what excuse he would carelessly toss your way this time around.

“Hello?” you answered, keeping your voice low.

In the background, you heard a commotion, jovial voices sounding like those of his teammates.

“Hey,” Tyler said dryly. “I, uh, I just wanted to let you know that some of the guys and I decided to hop a flight to Vegas tonight instead of going with the team tomorrow. So I won’t be coming home.”

You leaned against his desk and laughed humorlessly, switching your phone to the other ear.

“That’s great,” you breathed. “That’s just fucking... that’s fantastic, Tyler. Thank you for telling me now.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, this is why I don’t tell you shit,” he threw back. “I’m always the bad guy.”

Red hot rage boiled in your throat as you growled through gritted teeth, “Your children are waiting for you, Tyler.”

You heard him sigh, seeming to weigh what to say next. When he said nothing, you pushed. “What am I supposed to tell them? Huh? What would you like me to tell our kids, who have been waiting all day to see you and hug you and kiss you and eat birthday cake with you? Should I just tell them Daddy decided he’d rather go drink and gamble and party with his friends than come home to us?”

“No!” Tyler spat. “That’s not true. I—“

“Oh, it’s not?” you asked, your voice inadvertently rising. “Then tell me, Tyler, why the fuck are you doing it?”

You heard him draw a breath, expecting an immediate rebuttal, but instead you heard only his teammates calling for him.

“I have to go,” Tyler said, his voice raspy. “Tell the kids I love them and I’ll be home after the game tomorrow night.”

“You’re joking,” you huffed. “You’re really going to do this?”

As you spoke, tears brimmed in your eyes and you gazed across the dim room at your framed wedding photo that sat on the bookshelf. The two people in the picture looked like strangers to you now. You doubted you would ever know them again.

“I gotta go,” Tyler repeated in monotone. With that, he hung up.

Anger surged through you, and you allowed a few broken sobs to pass through your lips before shoving your phone in your pocket and swiping beneath your eyes to dry your tears. With a deep breath, you forced a smile and walked back into the hall.

“Mommy, where is Daddy?” your three-and-a-half year old daughter asked. You scooped her up and kissed her smooth cheek, devastated that Tyler could choose anything over these moments with your kids.

“You know what, Uncle Jamie asked Daddy to come with him early to Las Vegas to, um, to get in lots of good practice before they play the Golden Knights tomorrow night,” you told her as you smoothed your five-year-old son’s hair, the disappointment visible on the faces of these eldest two. “But, you know what? He told us to go ahead and have a slice of birthday cake before we go to bed. How does that sound?”

At that, they all cheered, even your newly two-year-old little boy, who clapped excitedly beside his brother, bringing a sad smile to your face.

“Can we still sing Happy Birfday?” your daughter asked, twirling your hair around her little hand affectionately and shattering you further.

You weren’t sure how much heartbreak you could handle at this point. You kissed the tip of her nose and nodded.

“Sure, baby,” you obliged, sniffling. “We can if you want to.”

_____

To some, it was sure to seem sudden.

To you, it seemed like it had been a long time coming.

When you heard the door slam and the dogs start barking, you knew the time for a reckoning had finally come.

“Hello?” Tyler called into the house, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. You didn’t bother to provide a reply.

Eventually, after you heard him drop his bags and greet the dogs, he climbed the stairs, and you hated the way your heart rate sped up automatically. He called your name, but again, you gave no response. He eventually found you in the bedroom, alone and silent.

“What are you doing?” Tyler asked, eyes scanning the suitcases lining the wall. “Where are the kids?”

You sighed, sitting back on your haunches and pausing folding your clothes.

“I’m packing, Tyler,” you answered, unable to look him in the eye. “The kids are in Fort Worth with my parents.”

“What do you mean, packing?” Tyler asked, brow furrowed as he took quick steps toward you. “Packing for what?”

You leaned back on your palms, rolling your head to try to ease the ever present tension in your neck, preparing for battle before slowly standing to your feet. You crossed your arms across your chest and found his startled gaze.

“Packing to leave, Tyler,” you answered, faking confidence. “Last night was the final nail in the coffin for me. I cannot, and will not, continue to do this to my children. To myself. I just, I won’t.”

Tyler’s eyes were wild as he came closer, grabbing your upper arms desperately.

“Baby, please, I don’t—“ he began, stuttering. “How can I fix this? How can I keep you here?”

You pried his fingers from your biceps and shot him an infuriated look.

“You know what would have been a good start?” you fumed. “Coming home to see your children on your birthday. Spending the night with your family instead of hopping a flight to Vegas. But Tyler, honestly, this has been over long before last night. Let’s not kid ourselves.”

As you moved past him to gather a bundle of your shoes from the closet, Tyler was hot on your heels.

“Listen,” Tyler said pleadingly, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender. “I know things haven’t been good lately. But please, just... just don’t do this. Don’t do this to me.”

You spun around in a blur, the ice in your gaze freezing Tyler in place.

“Do this to you?” you scoffed. “What about our children, Tyler? What about me? Huh? Do you think I actually want to leave the father of my kids? Of course I fucking don’t. Never in a million years could I have thought that this would happen. But here we are. Living separate lives. It’s about fucking time I just make it official.”

Tyler was nearly panting now and he heard his heartbeat within his own ears, spinning his wheels as he wrestled with what to do, what to say, next. You pushed past him with a newfound sense of urgency to finish packing as quickly as possible and get the fuck out.

Finally, Tyler found his voice again, though it was choppy with subdued sobs.

“But what does all of it matter if you’re not here?” he found himself asking as he watched you zip the bags. You shook your head from where you knelt on the floor.

“Maybe you should’ve asked yourself that earlier, Ty,” you suggested angrily, glancing at him in fury.

With that, Tyler sunk to the bench at the end of the bed, beginning to hyperventilate as he watched you stack the kids’ bags on top of your own. He held his head in his hands and begged, “No, no, please, don’t go, please, please forgive me,” as you readied the last of the belongings you were taking with you.

You started to feel your resolve wearing thin, tears threatening to spill and weaken the brave face you were pulling. You forced yourself to cross the room, pull off your rings, and place them on top of Tyler’s dresser. He watched on helplessly, and as you leaned back against the familiar piece of furniture, you finally summoned the courage to say the words you’d been preparing in your heart for months now.

“I fell for this illusion of this life I’d get to live with you, Ty,” you began. “This life filled with this passionate love we found when we were so young, and evolving into this everlasting commitment to growing a family together, not to mention never having to worry about earning a living, and getting to watch you do what you love night in and night out, with our kids. But somewhere along the line, that illusion finally faded for me. You coaxed me into this life and then you left me here.” As you spoke, tears fell from Tyler’s brown eyes, filled with sorrow and regret. It used to wreck you when he cried. Now it just made you angry. You pressed on.

“I go to bed at night and you’re not here, and I wake up and you’re not here, and even when you’re here, you’re not here. I don’t even think you wanna be. Our kids don’t even think you wanna be.”

Your voice wavered as you delivered those words, and Tyler hung his head.

“You used to be the one place I wanted to be, Tyler,” you continued. “And for a year now, I’ve broken my soul in two looking for you. But I can’t find you. I can’t find the person you used to be. You leave me hanging every single day. Despite the times I’ve begged you over and over again to come back to us. I won’t let you continue to disappoint our family like this.”

You wiped your tears away with the backs of your thumbs and pushed off the dresser, approaching the suitcases and preparing to begin the hardest task you’d ever had to attempt — living a life without Tyler.

“I’m sorry,” he cried in despair, sniffling as he watched you approach the doorway.

“I’ll always love you, Tyler,” you offered softly. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

As he watched you walk out on him, Tyler questioned everything he thought he knew about the life he was leading. What’s a lifetime’s worth of accolades, awards, and achievements if he pushed the ones he loved to the edge?

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miss-smutty · 3 years

Text

The Destructive Secret

Chapter 4

Summary- You've got a secret to hide and it's going to cause complete and utter devastation. It's only so long until your lies are going to catch up to you.

Pairing- Chris Hems x Reader x Liam Hems

Word count- 2,211

Warnings- Smut, swearing, angst, cheating

18+ Only!!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 29th June 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @mostly-marvel-musings @longlostinanotherworld

>The Destructive Secret Masterlist<

"No not married but you do know her. You know her really well actually." Chris says while avoiding your gaze purposefully...

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, silence so acute you could hear a pin drop. Liam waiting for an answer, Chris looking at his feet and you looking visibly anxious. Chris had drank way too much and now he was about to let all of your secrets loose. This isn't the way you want Liam to find out, surely Chris wouldn't be so cruel.

"I suppose you're not gonna tell me who it is?"

"Not just yet, see how we go." He looked at you, if he so much as even looked slightly smug you would have slapped him right across his face. Instead you could see the hurt in his eyes, tears welling in the corners. You're both faced with an impossible dilemma, Chris wants you all to himself but doesn't want to lose his brother in the process and you want it all over and done with but don't want to hurt Liam. The latter of both is inevitable but you would take all the blame just so Chris didn't have to lose his brother, given the choice you would lose them both just so that didn't happen.

"Well on that note, I need to go to bed. I've gotta be up early in the morning." You avoid Chris' gaze, you're angry with him but you don't want to cause him more pain.

"Yeah me too. I better get going. Thank you for dinner Y/N, it was lovely."

You risk a short glance at him, you're eyes softening when they meet. The moment broken when Liam speaks, reminding you where you are and who you're with right at this moment in time.

"Are you for real? You're really going to drop a bombshell like that and then leave? Fuck man." Liam runs his hand through his hair, letting air out of his cheeks exasperatedly.

"Sorry bro, I'll save the excitement for another night. I've said too much already." Chris apologises with his eyes as he passes you, his hands twitching by his side's with the need to touch you.

******************

The next morning when you wake, your heart sinks knowing all the turmoil you're going to have to go through just to make it to the hotel without being spotted. All the messing about and hiding you have to do, checking in under a false name at different times. Making sure nobody follows you to the hotel and especially no one follows Chris. Getting caught checking into the same hotel would be dreadful, it wouldn't take a genius for the press to put two and two together, they wouldn't even care if it was true or not as long as they sold copies.

"Right babe, I'm ready to go." You pull your suitcase towards the door, stopping to wrap your arms around Liam.

"Have a good time, I'll see you soon." Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and lifting your feet from the ground in a squeezy hug. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, bye babe."

"Bye. Love you. Let me know when you get checked in." He kisses you goodbye before watching you leave.

"Will do, Love you." You say over your shoulder, climbing into your silver, Audi convertible.

This is the part you hate the most, the part that made you question whether it was all worth it. It was, of course or you wouldn't be doing it, you wouldn't put yourself through having to pretend to be somebody else and praying your not caught by anyone. It only takes one person to notice you and Chris in the same hotel and it's over. You imagine having an affair is hard work whatever your circumstances but when your boyfriend and your lover are as famous as they are it becomes impossible. It's terrifying.

You spent the car journey constantly checking your mirrors and making sure you weren't being followed. A huge sunhat and even bigger sunglasses covering your face as your heart beated faster than you thought was possible. A couple of laps around the hotel, making doubly sure you weren't being followed before you finally pulled into the carpark.

You had to constantly think, you couldn't let your guard drop for even a moment and it was exhausting. You were ready for it to be over and done with now, this just isn't fun anymore. Maybe you could run away together and start a new life somewhere else. Which one would you pick though? Who are you ready to give up? Would there even be an option to choose? Would Liam even be willing to forgive you if he knew you were sleeping with his brother? In love with his brother.

Your heart beating out of your chest, your fight or flight well and truly kicking in now as you walk up to the front desk. If there's any recognition in the receptionists eyes you're ready to turn right around and leave. The girl behind the desk, with long blonde hair has her eyes on the computer In front of her, thankfully not paying you much attention as you stand and wait for her to finish.

"Hi I'd like to book a room for two nights please." You stutter nervously, subconsciously checking over your shoulder while you spoke.

"Of course, is it just for yourself?"

"Yes please, I'm just here for a work conference. I'd like a double bed if possible though, I haven't been able to sleep in a single since I was young." You giggle nervously, embarrassed that you'd told her information she isn't even slightly interested in.

"No problem, I'll see what I have for you." Her eyes barely left her computer as she spoke, she definitely didn't recognise you. The tension in your muscles relaxed a little as your eyes scanned the lobby.

"What name is it please?" She asked, one of the moments you'd been dreading. You hate lying but luckily you'd already come up with the fake name you were using, one you'd already used many times before in the exact same situation. It never gets any easier.

"Jessica Crawley." The names tumbled from your lips, names that had absolutely no meaning to you.

"Room 101, floor 5. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No thank you, that's great." The overwhelming feeling of relief at completing step one without any problems, rushes over you. Adrenaline spiking, making your legs feel like jelly.

"You're welcome, enjoy your stay. Don't hesitate to let me know if you have any questions." The girl says, smiling sweetly at you before going back to her work.

The elevator seemed to take forever to make its way down to you, your feet shuffling as you watched the numbers above the door, counting down. The overwhelming need to get to privacy and away from the many prying eyes of the people in the lobby was severe. Most were business men and women, that were so consumed in themselves they weren't paying special attention to anyone around them. There were also young couples, making their way through the lobby, probably on their way for lunch but the people that worried you the most were the random loners sat in the armchairs scattered around the lobby. They'd chosen the perfect place to watch, some pretending to read newspapers while their eyes discreetly scanned over the top.

They were much more inquisitive, much like yourself they paid more attention to the people around them. People watchers you liked to call them, these are the sorts of people that make you nervous. They see everything, noticing any minor details, you'd spent a lifetime perfecting 'people watching' which is how you knew to be wary. You could pretty much judge a person's personality just by watching them for a couple of minutes. If anyone was to spot you it would be one of these people. You felt thankful you weren't Chris, there is absolutely no way he was going to make it to the elevator without being seen at least once.

*******************

Chris didn't feel quite as nervous as you, this was a every day occurance in his life, avoiding paparazzi was near impossible for him. As long as you weren't seen going in to the hotel then it wouldn't matter about him being seen. Still, he'd worn his baseball cap and sunglasses to at least try and hide his identity. He wasn't nervous about being seen but more about having to face you after his fuck up last night. Now that thought was way more intimidating to him.

Casually strolling into the hotel, he tried to ignore the whispers of the people around him. People questioning if it was really him, young girls barely out of high school giggling at the sight of him. Chris quietly prayed that he would make it up to the room without anyone asking for a photo, not that he usually minded but today all he wanted was to spend every possible minute with you as he could.

The receptionist tried to make a fuss when his identity was confirmed during check in. The pale skin of the same blonde girl who'd checked you in, had turned a rather bright shade of red when she heard Chris' sexy Australian accent. You wouldn't blame her, it still makes you swoon whenever you heard him speak.

"I'm fine honestly, I don't want any special treatment. Actually if I could get away with going completely unnoticed during my stay, I will speak to your boss myself and tell them how accomodating you'd been."

"Oh wow, really? Thank you so much Mr Hemsworth. I will make sure nobody bothers you and if you need anything at all just give me a call, I'll make sure you won't have to leave your room for anything." Chris smiled, pretending not to notice how she seemed to be flirting with him, badly. Tossing her hair over shoulder as she insinuated not so subtly for him to let her know if he wanted any 'special' treatment. Again, you don't blame the girl, infact you would've commended her confidence.

She handed over the keys to the penthouse, watching bright eyed as he walked to the elevator, pulling out his phone as he stepped straight in.

"Hi babe, I've booked the penthouse suite, meet me up there?" Smiling a tight lipped smile at the girl behind the desk, who was still watching him intently as the elevator doors closed.

"Ok, it isn't very inconspicuous staying in the penthouse is it?" You shouldn't be surprised, he does it everytime. You remember the first time you ever saw a penthouse and how amazed you were that it was actually bigger than your own home at the time. That was a memory you shared with Liam, all of your first times had been with Liam, the thought made your heart sink.

"I mean they knew who I was as soon as I walked in, I think it would look more suspicious if I didn't stay in a suite." Chris answered, pulling you from your thoughts.

"I suppose that's true, I'll be up soon." You could hear the sadness in your voice, something you had to snap out of before meeting Chris.

"Good because I can't wait to get my hands on you."

Sinking back onto the spongey mattress of your bed, tiredness washing over you already. The mental exhaustion of constantly having to play games and be on your guard at all times, catching up to you as you're finally alone.

Maybe that's what you need afterall, a chance to be alone to gather your thoughts, to workout your own needs and wants without spreading your attention between the two brothers.

You make a mental list of the pros and cons of both of them knowing deep down if Liam were the one for you, you'd have never have looked twice at Chris. They were so similar in a lot of ways but completely different in others.

Liam was the sweetest man you knew, so gentle and caring, attentive to your every whim and being so young when you first got together he was everything you were looking for.

Now being a woman that has gone through so much trauma in her life that had tainted your soul, darkened it with a lust for more.

Then Chris came along, he was still sweet and caring but less attentive to your needs unless it was in the bedroom. He was cheeky and funny, drop dead gorgeous and oozing manliness effortlessly. He was fire and passion. He was more.

If you let yourself admit it, you wanted excitement, which is how you ended up here in the first place. You didn't want perfect anymore, you wanted a man who could do wrong and then make up for it in the most fulfilling way he knew how. Just thinking about it made your pulse race, Chris had put you through hell last night and now it was time for payback. You imagined Chris only a couple of floors above you, worried about the way you were going to act when you saw him and lord knows how much you're going to make him sweat.

#chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #smut #x reader #x you #liam hemsworth

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spartanguard · 3 years

Text

game changers

Summary: Emma’s son’s hockey team—the one she started when got cut from another—is about to play for the state championship. Along the way, she found assistance—and attraction—with the grumpy ice rink manager where they practice. Winning isn’t the only thing on the line; hearts are, too. (aka the Mighty Ducks: Game Changers AU no one asked for.)

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @thesschesthair!!!!!!!! wishing you the most awesome, amazing, furry birthday yet!!! After our conversations about the Mighty Ducks series—especially that scene at the end—I couldn’t resist throwing this little thing together in honor of the day. Hope you like it, and thank you for being such an amazing friend!! Love you!!!!

1.6k words | rated G

If someone had told Emma at the beginning of the season that they’d be here, she’d have laughed hysterically and asked what drugs they were on, because she wanted some. There was no way this little ragamuffin team—that, honestly, was half started out of spite—would even make it to the state tournament, let alone to the final.

Yet, here they were, about to face off against the elite team that had cut her son from the roster before the season even started. (She could grumble on for days about the state of youth hockey and the money involved and any other number of social injustices, but what it really amounted to was how it highlighted her own feelings of inadequacy as a young-ish single mom next to all the rich ladies who already had college advisors for their middle schoolers.)

The puck hadn’t even dropped and she was already a bundle of nervous energy, as much as the pre-teens around her in the locker room. It hadn’t been easy, getting here—god, it hadn’t been that long ago some of these kids could barely even skate—but this was more than they had ever anticipated. She knew she should be dispensing some sage advice, but it’s not like she was ever that experienced in this kind of situation; foster kids didn’t have much of an opportunity to participate in organized sports (part of why she’d been so adamant to make sure Henry had these opportunities).

But then an increasingly familiar presence appeared at her side, gave her a sideways grin she was growing to love, and addressed the kids with a speech that was the perfect combination of encouraging and celebratory.

It may have been a stroke of luck that she found Killian Jones in that run-down ice arena, because none of this would have worked without him.

And the grin Henry was giving her as they headed out to the rink was worth all of it.

(The way her heart jumped every time Killian was near? Pleasant side effect. But also: not a priority right now.)

The team filed out of the room, leaving her to bring up the rear. “You alright, love?” Killian asked, coming up alongside her, concern furrowing his expressive brow.

“Yeah, just nervous,” she admitted. “Never thought we’d even be here, but now that we are—is it wrong that I really hope we win?” Logically, she knew she’d proven whatever point she’d already set out to prove—that hockey could still be fun, that money was no replacement for drive, that she was capable of running a team. Winning states, though? That would just put it in bold text.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “You’ve done an amazing job with these kids. And Swan: I’ve yet to see you fail.”

The honesty shining in his blue eyes was almost overwhelming, and a sudden tension formed in the narrow space between them; she hadn’t even realized how close he was. Close enough to...no, she couldn’t follow that train of thought. She’d done enough of that for one lifetime, and knew he had, too

So she stepped out of his space, took a deep breath, and started to head out of the room. “Let’s do this, then.”

*********************

She’d hated him, at first. She wasn’t even sure how she managed to convince him to let the team use the rink, despite the “no hockey” signs plastered everywhere. It had to have been Henry—that kid could warm even the hardest heart.

Which was probably the only reason Killian agreed to help coach, too. Emma knew absolutely nothing about the sport other than what she’d seen watching; but how could she teach the kids the difference between icing and offsides if she didn’t even know? Heck, she could barely stop on her (rented, figure) skates without crashing into the boards.

And she was totally ready to respect Killian’s rule—until Henry found out who he was and couldn’t stop talking about him. About how he actually founded his previous team, and had a pretty respectable minor league playing career until a hand injury ended it, but went on to be a fantastic coach—for a while, ultimately flaming out at the college level. It wasn’t her business how he ended up managing a secondhand rink in the less-nice part of Boston, just that he continued to let them use it.

It took a couple soul-crushing defeats before he stepped in and helped her teach the kids the basics, and as it turned out, they made a pretty good team. He was fantastic with the kids; Henry liked him a lot; hell, he was even great with her ex. It was perfect—almost too much so.

Because he could also read her far too well.

It only took one run-in with Regina, one of those rich moms, for him to figure out there was more to her starting this team than met the eye.

He sussed out her history with Neal pretty quickly, despite only meeting him once—her reaction said enough.

And when she put distance between them—a lot of it, for almost two weeks—after they shared a rather intense hug after their first win, he called her out on her bullshit.

“Don’t try to tell me you’re not avoiding me, because I’m actually quite perceptive and this? This is avoiding.”

“I know,” she confessed. “But...I can’t take the chance I’m wrong about you.”

They continued to skate around...whatever this was between them. Emma tried to chalk it up to physical attraction—because damn, was he ever: dark, shaggy hair (with a few lighter strands mixed in), piercing blue eyes, the right amount of stubble, and a bit of chest hair that teased her from under the henleys he wore, which also did a good job of showing off the fact that his playing career might be over, but he was still in fine form.

But it was so much more than that. He was a kindred spirit, in a way. She just refused to admit that.

*********************

From the moment the puck dropped, it felt like she didn’t take a breath. She and Killian moved with and around each other fluidly, giving instructions, cheering the kids on, maybe yelling at the referees a bit, but ultimately doing everything they could to support the team.

With less than 30 seconds left in the third period, the game was tied 3-3. “Do you trust me?” Killian asked her at the start of their last time out.

“Of course.” She’d never been more sure of anything.

He nodded at her and then turned to the kids, describing a play that, if all went well, would net them a goal and secure them the win.

She was silent with anxiety as she watched the line skate back out. Killian returned to her side and then squeezed her hand. “This’ll work, I promise,” he said, and gave her one of the soft smiles he didn’t give very often.

All she could do was nod and then turn her attention back to the ice.

She still wasn’t exactly sure what he’d told them to do, but it was genius, whatever it was; the kids were completely in sync, passing the puck surely and accurately, until it was in Henry’s possession—and then it was in the net.

The light lit up, the siren rang out—they’d just won the state championship.

She didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so she settled for some combination of both and instinctively threw her arms around Killian, not giving a fig about propriety. They won.

(It was almost worth it for the sour looks on other mom’s faces—but even more for the unstoppable grin on Henry’s.)

She was barely aware of anything during the awards ceremony—not until Henry was shoving their (surprisingly heavy) trophy in her hands.

Back in the locker room, the kids were passing the trophy around, admiring their medals, taking selfies, and Emma had to brush a tear away at the sight. It was more than she had hoped for at the start of the season.

She turned away to a corner, so she wouldn’t embarrass Henry or something by getting too emotional, but Killian quickly swam into her vision. “What’d I tell you, Swan?” he said softly, reaching up to brush away a tear. “Bloody brilliant, love.”

“Please,” she scoffed, though it was a bit watery. “That winning play was all you. That was amazing.”

Killian blushed, the tips of his elfin ears turning pink. He was about to say something, but then a cry came from the team, who had suddenly gathered around them. “Hey, coaches!”

They both turned to look—and were immediately drenched in coolers of Gatorade. The kids began to whoop and holler and laugh, but Emma and Killian were frozen in place for a second.

Until she looked across at him, grinning at her through his (very wet) fringe

If starting a hockey team had been a rash move, it was about to be topped—because she finally caved, grabbed him by the lapel of his coach-like sportcoat, and hauled him into her, finding his lips with hers.

He tasted like—well, Gatorade, and he stiffened at first, but then wrapped his arms around her and deepened it. He kissed her like he meant it, and she gave it right back. It would probably throw a wrench in a lot of things, but she didn’t care anymore. It just felt good; it felt right.

They did eventually have to come up for air, and not just because the their impromptu shower was making their clothes stick to their skin uncomfortably (she couldn’t help but notice the red-tinged dampness of his chest hair through the open vee of his dress shirt and vest). Some of the kids were playfully gagging, but Henry gave them a thumbs up.

If someone had told Emma at the beginning of the season that she’d end it by kissing her assistant coach in a victory celebration, she’d have thought they were completely mad. But as she dragged Killian in for another kiss (of many more to come), she was so glad it was real.

#cs ff #cs hockey au #hockey!killian #Happy Birthday #thesschesthair #there wasn't room for a ton of chest hair in here but I got a bit in!

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