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aemondsbabe · 5 months

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Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year! also, a very very big thank you to my sweetie pie @officerbrowneyes for editing michael into a lil suit!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!”

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand.

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad.

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!”

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.”

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this.

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket.

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth.

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?”

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully.

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.”

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise.

And a few seconds later, everything blows up.

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?”

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it.

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.”

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go.

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child.

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.”

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.”

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.”

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out.

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser.

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor.

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls.

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl.

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face.

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.”

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck?

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly.

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns.

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly.

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.”

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam.

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head.

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.”

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being.

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling.

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up.

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red.

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.”

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished.

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly.

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own.

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch.

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs.

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down.

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor.

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out.

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts.

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving.

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently.

“How do you want me, Mikey?”

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered.

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again.

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him.

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance.

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his.

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.”

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length.

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is.

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you.

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you.

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.”

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed.

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him.

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend.

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach.

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open.

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

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#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey smut #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn smut #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #my writing #12 days of smuff

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ohdeerfully · 3 months

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hi!! i absolutely love your writing, you write alastor so so well and i absolutely devoured everything you have posted... would you by any chance be open to writing alastor with a f!reader who has an eating disorder/anorexia? <3 it's a triggering topic so i totally understand if you'd rather not! 💖 i've just recently been stressed about feeling like i need to lose weight again despite already having lost quite a lot and it just feels. never enough, so i would much appreciate some comfort! thank you for sharing your writing with us! 💖

hi my love!! i know you requested this some time ago, and i hope youve been feeling better (,: i also struggle with this type of thing so i 100% dont mind writing about it, but just know that you are super beautiful and worth every sweet treat and meal you get!!! mwah mwah mwah i hope you like the story ^.^

Ma Moitié

Alastor x Reader (fluff/comfort)

TW: eating disorder!!! alastor is def OOC hes being a sweetie pie join my discord!

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You always had a poor relationship with your body and food, in life and in death. You went through periods of weight loss, gain, loss again—some seemingly never ending cycle that no amount of therapy has managed to halt.

Your mind was currently weighing the pros and cons of eating the slice of cake offered to you by Charlie. She was celebrating the arrival of a few new residents, the first to arrive since the last extermination. The news really helped the hotel garner some attention, that plus the fancy new renovation Lucifer himself helped with… needless to say, Charlie was thrilled. So, she threw a little party. You had been standing awkwardly near the doorway, trying to find an opportunity to slip away from the small party. But you doubted you could escape without your absence being noticed; there really weren't that many people here to begin with.

You had accepted the cake out of sheer politeness, but you now just held the plate loosely in your hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you thought. You’ve been feeling particularly… susceptible to the calories in food lately. You considered the fact that you hadn’t eaten much today—or, honestly, the whole week for that matter. It shouldn’t hurt to just have one slice of cake. Just this once.

But… still…

You frowned down at the cake. Picking up the plastic fork, you took a tiny chunk from it and lifted it to your lips. Your lips quivered as the food touched your tongue, and you felt sick as you chewed. You managed to swallow after an unnecessarily long few seconds of chewing, and you continued to just stare down at your plate. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle another bite.

Niffty had seen the sickly expression on your face, and loudly started throwing questions at you. Were you sick? Did you hate the party? Why didn’t you like the cake she made? Her loud voice was growing in volume, and catching the attention of a few other demons in the room. You tried various ways to shush her, attempting to answer her questions politely, but you felt your heart rate pick up at the obviously growing number of eyes.

“I’m not incredibly fond of sweets myself,” You heard that radio-afflicted voice pipe up from behind. You couldn’t help but jump at the unexpected presence, but you turned your head with a light smile. Alastor was looking curiously down at Niffty and you.

“Ah, yeah, the cake’s great, I just… don’t like dessert that much…” You lied. You actually really liked cake, but it had been a long time since you were actually able to enjoy it without feeling intensely guilty about it. The tiny demon made a fussy comment about how nobody appreciated her and all of her hard work, stomping away. Her mood didn’t last, though, immediately getting caught up in cleaning something you couldn’t even see.

You turned your head to thank Alastor, but you saw his smile drop slightly as he looked at you. The demon bent at the waist to lean down, his mouth near your ear and his usually boisterous voice quieted to a whisper. “Is everything alright, mon coeur?”

You felt your face heat up, both at the words he spoke and the proximity. You and Alastor had been quietly ‘official’ for quite a while now, but you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the small gestures of affection from the Radio Demon. It felt weird if you thought about it too long.

“I’m okay, just…” You weren’t sure how open you wanted to be about how you were feeling. Alastor knew about your poor body image and eating habits, but he truthfully never really knew how to go about comforting you. Plus, you felt as if your personal struggles were trivial to a literal Overlord of Hell. You didn’t want to bother him with your own shit.

“I’m fine,” You finally decided. You could tell Alastor knew you were lying, with that furrow of his eyebrows, but he stood up straight and didn’t push. You sighed and gently placed the plate of cake down on a small entryway table by the door you had been lurking near.

“I’ll get us out of here,” He declared with a wide smile, and he strode forward to where Charlie stood talking to the group of new guests. She knew Alastor was approaching due to the look of horror that slowly crossed the new demon’s faces. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but it looked like she briefly scolded Alastor for being so damn intimidating for no reason.

They chatted for a moment, and you could hear the Radio Demon’s obnoxious laughter from across the room. He gestured to himself, then to you, to which Charlie looked in your direction. You shot her a small smile. She smiled back, nodded, and turned away to continue talking to the new residents—who all had been slowly inching away from Alastor. They looked incredibly relieved when he left the group.

He gave you a grin and wordlessly threaded his arm around yours, linking you at the elbow. You lifted your hand to give his upper arm an appreciative squeeze as you left the room. Your eyes lingered on the abandoned slice of cake as you walked away, feeling guilty in more ways than one.

Alastor had led you to your room, releasing your arm and leaning his body weight on his cane as he looked down at you. You glanced up at him, then back down, pursing your lips as you stared at anything else in the room.

“I hate when demons lie to me,” He said, eyes narrowed. Of course, you knew he wasn’t truly mad at you. Maybe frustrated. “What’s wrong.” It was more like a statement than a question. A demand.

You sat heavily down on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your fingers.

“I don’t know, Al,” You muttered. You hated this. “I just… You know how I get sometimes.” It somehow felt so silly, telling him about this.

Alastor had sat down next to you, his arm wrapped over your shoulder and a clawed hand rubbing up and down your forearm. You could tell his touch was light, awkward, unsure—but the gesture was appreciated nonetheless. While Alastor typically had no problem overstepping boundaries and shoving demons around purely to aggravate them, he obviously had no real idea how to be intimate and kind. But he tried for you.

He took his other hand and slipped it under your legs, swiftly lifting you and pulling you further up the bed. He leaned his body against the headboard, and dragged you over to lay your torso against his own.

“I don’t understand why you worry about all this, dear,” He mused, his fingers threading through your hair. His other hand graced past your stomach, which caused you to subconsciously flinch away. You felt his hand pause, but he didn’t mention it.

“I wish I didn’t have to,” You responded slowly, your cheek squished against his chest. “But I’ve dealt with this since I was alive. I feel like it’ll never get better.”

“Dearest, you have a whole eternity here,” He mused in response. He placed a finger under your chin and craned your head to meet his gaze. “You need to be strong to survive down here; to stay sane. A healthy body leads to a healthy mind.”

Of course Alastor was always thinking about strength and survival. He was an Overlord, after all. You didn’t respond to him, but you kept looking at him as he spoke. There was an odd look in his eyes as he talked.

“Plus,” He continues. His words were slow, and his mouth moved as if the words tasted unnatural on his tongue. This uncertainty that touched the Radio Demon’s voice was… rare, to say the least. “I want to see ma moitié happy. I am… incredibly devoted to you.”

Your ear pricked when you noticed the radio frequency in his voice completely dropped when he spoke the words. That look in his eyes—you finally recognized it as some odd sense of passion and endearment. An emotion that you could tell confused him, with the strain in his brow as he examined you. He meant the words he said, no matter how unnatural they felt leaving his mouth.

You rested your head back down on his chest. You knew this conversation wouldn’t “cure” you or anything, but you hoped that maybe you could think back on his words everytime your hands shook as you held a fork to your mouth. Of all demons in Hell, Alastor’s opinion was probably the most important to you, and you knew his devotion wouldn’t halt because of a few pounds; Alastor had to be deeply, deeply passionate about you to even let you lay on top of him like this.

You only hummed in response, and simply rested your head back against his chest. You hugged your arm tightly against him to try to convey that you appreciated his words, but you didn’t really know what to say.

“Would you join me for breakfast tomorrow?” Alastor asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “I know this wonderful place that I frequent for coffee…”

You thought for a moment, again weighing the pros and cons; a habit that you struggled to drop when it came to meals. Your mind was buzzing with thoughts of what kind of food might be there, and if you should ration out the meals for the rest of the day. But, you felt the thoughts melt away when Alastor’s hand rubbed a comforting circle against your cheek, and then trailing down towards your shoulder in a light squeeze.

“Okay,” you finally said. It wouldn’t hurt to have a decent meal for once. You pulled yourself up onto your elbows again to look at Alastor. “Sounds awesome.”

His smile twisted up, his teeth peeking through a small gap in his lips. His head inched forward, but then paused, and you could tell his mind was racing with various thoughts. You waited for him to decide and, after a few moments, he closed the gap and lightly pressed his lips against yours. It was brief, as most intimate contact with him was, but you enjoyed it while it lasted.

“You will always be my only weakness,” Alastor admitted tenderly. “The most captivating demon in all of Hell.”

You couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across your face at his words. You sputtered out some awkward response, to which he simply hummed and smiled at. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the headboard, his fingers still playing with your hair gently.

You followed suit, resting your head against his chest and closing your own eyes. You didn’t even realize how tired you were, too caught up in the rare intimacy with Alastor. You let your worries of breakfast fade away, choosing to just enjoy the warmth of his body so close to yours.

#ohdeerfully #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #comfort #eating disorder #TW: eating disorder #TW: disordered eating #disordered eating

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kix-mm · 6 months

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A once cruel god. G/t short story 1/??

Pt2

"Hey, where are you going? Don't leave! I was joking!" The god yelled as they watched the tiny human try to drag themselves in the opposite direction as fast as they could. Damn it, why did he have to do that?! Why did he have to ruin the moment?!

They quickly grabbed ahold of the human, trying to be ever so gentle and not harm them like they had done so carelessly before. They felt the human flinch and struggle, and their tears streamed down their cheeks endlessly while they repeat the same sentences over and over again.

"Please let me go, I've earned my freedom, I don't want to go back! Please, please, please!" They begged between sobs. It made the young God feel so uneasy now that he could understand the human language... this is what they had been saying all this time? He remembers laughing when hearing these silly little words, unaware of their meaning, and how cruel he used to play with the humans... this particular one somehow managed to survive. Despite the young gods' favoritism, he had made this little human life torture from a young age... the young God had fallen for this particular human, but it didn't mean that they had it any easier, they watched their own kind get crushed, tipped apart, eaten, and given false hope and promises... and on top of all that they had to pretend to be head over heals for the giant in order for their life to be safe, despite all the torture they endured...

The human was a frail figure, misting a lower arm and both their legs. These were the young gods' doings. There was no mistaking it...

"My flower..." the God spoke in a sad, soft voice, they watched the humans face drain of any color and their body begin so tremble uncontrollably, hearing that name again... that alone was enough to make the human have a panic attack. "No, no! No! Nonononono, you promised it was over! You promised I could go!" That was right. The young god didn't usually grace their "toys" with freedom when he got bored playing with them, but this human got a right to leave for exactly this reason... so that he could find them all these years later... and understand them... he had done so with several other humans, and all yielded the same results... horror, shock, begging, and even ending their own lives and those of their families in order to not have ANGYONE go through what they did...

"My flower.." he repeated again carefully. They wish they had bothered to learn the humans name before, and despite all that had happened he hated to admit how hid heart fluttered seeing this human again, even after all this torture, they were still so beautiful... the humans attempts to ruin their face had been for nothing, large gashes all over made them almost unrecognizable, yet they immediately began sobbing louder when they saw that distinctive pink hue on the gods cheeks. "I'm not your fucking flower!! I'm not! I'm not!!"

The harsh words made the God flinch. "Wait - wait, no- I, w-what do I call you? What is your name? I won't call you that ever again, please don't cry." they beg, that right, a God, begging a former human toy for something more comfortable to call them... that was almost impossible, only in a humans wildest dreams would they be treated like such...

The human went silent, expecting this to be some cruel trick for speaking so unfaithfully to an all mighty God... meanwhile, the young god sat in anticipation to hear anything that could resemble a name. Nothing, hours of silence went by without either saying anything at all, judt heavy breathing as a result of the humans panic attack.

The God eventually got tired of waiting and asked calmly again, "What is your name..?" To which the human flinched once more, was this a trick question? "F-flower, my lord..." they said with their head down. "No, I'm asking what your real name is, not the one I gave you..." the human kept their eyes glued to the palm of the gods hand. "I... I don't know my lord..." they lied, not wanting the God to tarnish their name by hearing them speak it. The young God frowned and tried to catch a glimpse of the humans eyes.

"You don't..? Do you even have a name?" The human never replied. "W-would you like a name?" He asks "I promise it'll be a nice one, then you won't be nameless anymore " they say with a hopeful smile.

The human feels sick to their stomach but nods slowly. "It would be an honor..." No, it wouldn't... it's a curse in disguise. If the human used the name the God gave him , then God would be able to locate him wherever he went... "What about Amber..? Do you like that name?". "It's a wonderful name, my lord..." they spoke while gritting their teeth. Amber was their name before they were reduced to a mere spoiled brats favorite toy. Now it feels like it's happening all over again, but the god is pretending to have sympathy... but the human knew what kind of a monster this god could be...

"Do you still remember my name?" The god asks softly. How could the human forget? They literally carved their name into the humans' skin. "V-Vic-" they got sick before they could properly pronounce his name, a sure-fire way to get yourself into a heap of trouble, "Amber" stared at the sick on the gods hand and quickly attempted to clean it with what little clothing thry had on thier body "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so ashamed, please forgive me-" they were cut off by them being carefully lifted into their other hand " the god looked concerned, "Are you okay? Don't be scared it's alright" they spoke in the most sincere voice, which only worried the human more, what would they be punished with?? What was he going to do with them??

#g/t community #gentle giant #giant/tiny #gt community #g/t #giant tiny #giant #gt angst #angst #gt fearplay #fearplay #g/t related #gt writing #gt

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thenerdykneazle · 4 months

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Left Behind

Summary: Ominis is feeling forgotten when he discovers his partners have run off on yet another adventure without him. He frets about the future of his relationship with two people who seem to neither need nor want him around. Can Sebastian and MC make amends with him when they return to the castle?

A collab with the lovely @darch7995, who gave me the prompt and created the audio version of this story. Listen here.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC x Sebastian Sallow

Warnings: light angst, sad Ominis

Word count: 2511

Ominis could hear the scrape of metal on stone as the door to the Room of Requirement materialised before him. He pushed it open and stepped inside. He could hear several cauldrons bubbling and the magical loom weaving away. The aromas of mallowsweet leaves and shrivelfigs hung thickly in the air from the potting tables along the wall.

“MC? Sebastian? Are you here?” he called as he took echoing steps into the centre of the large room.

A soft pop came from his right. “Deek saw the students leave nearly an hour ago,” the house-elf said.

Ominis groaned. “Ugh, of course, they did,” he groused. “Off to fight some dark wizards or search for artefacts in a hidden cave, no doubt.”

“MC told Deek they were going to collect ashwinder venom for a new potion,” Deek said timidly.

“What a surprise!” Ominis said sarcastically as he began to pace around the room. “That’s obviously more important than working on our project for transfiguration – like we had agreed on days ago! And, naturally, they didn’t tell me they’d miss our appointment. Plus, why ask the boy who can speak to snakes to tag along? Why would he be useful?”

Deek let out a squeak of fright as Ominis sent a hex at the adjacent wall, singeing a portrait of a witch with her pet niffler in her lap. “Deek is very sorry if he upset you,” the meek elf said in a trembling voice.

Ominis winced. “No, I’m not upset with you. I…I’m sorry,” he said, as a pang of guilt stabbed into his stomach. He hadn’t meant to scare the innocent elf. He was just frustrated.

Deek apologised again, as if he’d done anything wrong, before popping away again.

Ominis sighed as he trudged forward into the forest vivarium. Inside, he could hear unicorns galloping across the ground and jobberknolls soaring above the trees. Wand outstretched, Ominis walked down the cobblestone path to a bench by the water. The sun warmed his skin as he stepped out of the shade of the trees. As he sat there, a light breeze tousled his hair, making a few strands fall across his forehead. He usually liked to nap in the spot, but he didn’t feel up to it at the moment.

His attempt to brood angrily failed miserably, as Ominis just felt dejected. He sniffed as unshed tears made his nose begin to run. He didn’t understand why his companions constantly neglected him in favour of each other. He had been elated – eventually – to have MC make him and Sebastian a trio again. Something had been missing ever since Anne had to leave school. He thought MC had filled that void – not that she had replaced Anne, as the other Sallow twin was still like a sister to him. She was far better to him than any of his actual siblings, and nothing would change his love for her. But she wasn’t there anymore.

And Ominis’s feelings for MC were certainly different than his ones for Anne. Right from the start, they were a lot more like how he felt toward Sebastian. It had felt like a dream come true when they had decided to date each other – Ominis had thought he couldn’t ask for better partners. They both made him laugh. They both knew how to comfort him when he was upset. They both made his heart skip beats when they sat close or grabbed his hand to lead him to some newly discovered oddity in the castle or out on the grounds. Ominis normally hated when people grabbed him, but it was different with Sebastian and MC.

Though, neither was dragging him much of anywhere lately. The girl who had stolen a piece of his heart had also managed to steal most of their boyfriend’s time. They were always sneaking off to Merlin-knows-where to get into untold trouble. It made Ominis feel like an outsider in his own relationship.

Heavy thuds behind Ominis announced the approach of the hippogriffs even before Highwing’s chirping made their presence obvious. She nuzzled into the boy’s side before flopping down on the ground beside him, resting her head on the bench beside him. Caligo settled down on the opposite side of the boy.

Ominis laughed softly, despite the heaviness still in his chest at being abandoned. “At least you two still like me,” he said, giving each beast a pat on the head.

Caligo chittered happily as Highwing rubbed the side of her face against Ominis’s thigh in a display of affection.

“Maybe I should take a page out of Poppy’s book and promote you two to my best friends,” Ominis joked. He could feel Caligo’s head tilt with his hand still resting atop it. “You wouldn’t abandon me for each other, would you?”

They gave no response.

“What am I saying? Of course, you would,” Ominis said, shaking his head. “You two are a bonded pair.”

The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

“You know,” he continued to the hippogriffs, “I used to think Sebastian and I were a rather bonded pair. And, while I was sceptical of MC when she first arrived, she won me over. I thought I had gained a new partner in crime. I didn’t realise then that my old friend and my new one would slowly decide they were better off without me.”

Highwing made a sympathetic sort of chirp. At least, Ominis thought it sounded so.

“Yes, I suppose MC left you behind on this adventure too, didn’t she?” he observed. “She has a fancy upgraded broom and a duelling champion. What’s she need any of us for? Never mind that you saved her from those poachers. Or that I helped her defeat all those inferi in the catacombs – inferi that Sebastian created, mind you. But why have the blind boy tag along, right? I couldn’t possibly take care of myself – or, shock of shocks, be helpful.”

Caligo rested his head in Ominis’s lap. The boy stroked the creature’s head, smoothing his feathers gently. It made his fingers feel powdery to run them through his plumage, but it also soothed him.

“I just….I really can’t believe Sebastian replaced me so easily,” he said, struggling to get the words out as he was getting choked up. “After all we’ve been through together. After all that I’ve stood by him through. And MC…I confided in her about things I’d never even told Sebastian. They both mean so much to me, and…it’s like I’m expendable to them. They just ran off without telling me. Again. Not only do they not need me, they…they don’t even want me there.”

Ominis stayed in the comforting presence of his feathered companions. He felt a bit less alone with them on either side of him. Completely losing track of time, he just sat and sulked with them until two more people burst into the vivarium.

“Ominis?” MC called as she wound through the trees.

The blond didn’t bother replying. He had little interest in talking to either of his so-called partners. The hippogriffs scampered off when they heard their master’s voice.

“Traitors,” Ominis grumbled to himself.

“Ominis! There you are!” Sebastian said as the pair arrived at his bench. “We’ve been looking all over for you! We were worried something happened to you when you weren’t at dinner. You’d just disappeared!”

Ominis snorted out a laugh. “You two are the ones who disappeared,” he accused, crossing his arms over his chest in indignation. “We were supposed to work together in the library this afternoon, and you couldn’t be bothered to tell me you weren’t going to make it.”

“That was today?” MC asked guiltily, shifting nervously where she stood and making the leaves crunch under her feet.

“Yes, it was!” Ominis shot back irritably. He shifted away from her voice, turning his nose up in the air. “But I should’ve known better than to expect my boyfriend and girlfriend to show up to our study date.”

“I’m sorry, Ominis. We just got caught up–” Sebastian started, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Ominis shrugged him off. “You’re always getting caught up in something! And always leaving me behind!” he interjected.

“We didn’t think you’d want to come,” MC admitted, sounding remorseful.

Good, Ominis thought. She should be sorry.

“We had to fly up into the mountains to find the ashwinders’ nests, and you hate flying,” she explained.

“But I love the two of you! I would’ve gone if you’d asked,” Ominis retorted. “But you clearly didn’t want me there.”

“That’s not true!” MC insisted.

“Isn’t it?” Ominis replied.

“You know it’s not,” Sebastian stated firmly, breaking back into the conversation. He often let MC handle Ominis when he was upset, as Sebastian was under the impression that MC “had a way with him.” The blond had clearly struck a nerve to make him feel the need to speak up.

“No, I don’t, Sebastian!” Ominis argued, growing angrier. Before he knew it, he was on his feet and jamming a finger in Sebastian’s chest. “You two just don’t want your little blind pet getting in the way. You don’t think I can handle myself out in the forest, right? You think you need to protect me from harm while you both run headfirst into danger. You treat me like a child!”

“Ominis!” MC gasped, taken aback at his outburst.

“Do either of you even want me around anymore?” he asked, trying not to let the pain show in his voice.

“Of course, we do,” Sebastian said, and his anger had dissipated. He took hold of Ominis’s hand. Ominis squeezed his in return. “We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I didn’t think you would want to go gallivanting through the Highlands.”

“What I want is to spend time with my boyfriend and girlfriend again. You two are always gone lately,” Ominis admitted.

MC wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I’m sorry, Ominis. We found a potion that might be able to cure Anne, and I’ve had tunnel vision about the whole thing. But I also didn’t want to get her hopes up if it didn’t pan out. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to find all of the ingredients.”

Ominis rested a hand on her arm that was across his stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he croaked.

“Ominis,” MC said chidingly, “you know you’re rubbish at keeping secrets from her.”

The boy’s cheeks flushed with heat. “I’m not that bad,” he said defensively.

“You told her what I’d bought her for Christmas three years in a row before I started hiding it from you, too,” Sebastian argued, making MC chuckle.

Ominis could feel her chest rumble against his back, and he melted into her.

“So, you two aren’t tired of me, then?” he asked a bit timidly.

MC laughed. “Hardly,” she replied before giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Who else would be the voice of reason?” Sebastian joked. Tenderly cupping his hand over Ominis’s cheek, he added, “You know I’m mad about you, you stupid git.”

“Ever the romantic,” Ominis replied drily.

MC giggled as Sebastian crashed his lips into Ominis’s. He had clearly taken the heir of Slytherin’s words as a challenge. One he met with force. If MC hadn’t been behind the lithe boy, Sebastian probably would have knocked him to the ground.

Sebastian tasted like the treacle tarts he always gorged on after chasing MC around on some ill-advised adventure. Ominis fisted his free hand into his boyfriend’s robes as he kissed him back, sliding his tongue into his mouth and making him moan. Sebastian quickly returned the favour – and then some, as he moved to trail open-mouthed kisses down the side of Ominis’s neck.

Panting as he pulled back, Sebastian’s smirk was practically audible. “Better?” he asked cheekily.

Ominis chuckled. “Much,” he replied silkily, stroking his thumb over the back of MC’s arm, which was still wrapped around him.

“Does this mean you’d want to help us get venom from the snake I’ve got in my nab-sack?” MC inquired, lifting her head off his shoulder. “Because I’d really prefer not to get bitten again.”

“You were bitten?” Ominis roared.

“Three times, actually, but Nurse Blainey patched me right up when we made it back to the castle,” she replied as if it were as casual of a fact as that it might rain the following afternoon.

Ominis felt like he might pass out before the rage steadied him. “You let her get bitten three times?” he growled at Sebastian.

“How is it my fault?” Sebastian asked, bewildered, but Ominis had already spun away from him, refocusing on MC.

His hands worried over every inch of her. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “Are you dizzy? Or in pain? Do you want me to take you back to the hospital wing for the night, just in case?”

“I’m fine,” MC insisted, and Ominis would bet a pretty galleon that she’d rolled her eyes.

“I got bitten too, you know,” Sebastian sulked.

“Merlin, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Ominis said, pulling MC into a tight hug.

Sebastian pouted even more at being ignored.

“I am as long as I can breathe,” MC choked out.

Ominis instantly released her. “Sorry,” he muttered, raising a hand to her cheek and gently stroking his thumb over the smooth skin.

“It’s all right,” MC replied kindly before turning her head to press a kiss into his palm. “You’re sweet to worry, but I really am fine.”

“Barely! You’re never going out without proper supervision again,” Ominis asserted.

“Now who’s being treated like a chi–” MC started.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sebastian asked, offended.

“You know exactly what I meant, Sebastian,” Ominis said severely. “Clearly, you two are hazardous left to your own devices.”

“I’ll let that slight pass if it means you’ll start coming out with us,” Sebastian said lightly.

“Yes, I’ve quite made up my mind on it,” Ominis replied seriously.

“Brilliant! It’ll be great having more help. And if we all get stranded in one of those remote little cabins and have to share the one, tiny bed all pressed up against each other, well…all the better,” Sebastian added cheekily.

Ominis jumped slightly when he felt a hard pinch on his bum. “You’re a degenerate, Sebastian,” he tried to assert, but his face was going red imagining the scenario.

“You love me,” the mischievous boy stated confidently.

Ominis could tell he had stepped in rather close, because he could feel Sebastian’s breath puff over his nose and cheeks.

Ominis gave a dramatic sigh, refusing to give Sebastian the satisfaction of swooning at his flirting. “Against my better judgement, but, yes, I do. Both of you.”

“Good. Because we’ll never be tired of you, so you’re stuck with us,” MC said.

“Promise?” Ominis asked, feeling a jolt of insecurity.

Sebastian rested his forehead against his, their noses brushing together. “Promise,” he vowed.

Ominis relaxed. Pressed between the two people he loved most, he felt anything but unwanted.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfic #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow #sebinis #ominis gaunt x mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc x ominis gaunt #silver trio #sebastian sallow #Deek

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risuola · 5 months

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07.12 — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who hates his own birthday

cw: fluff. established relationship, maybe the tiniest bit of angst at the beginning? — 1,4k words

There is something about birthdays that Satoru never truly comprehended. Maybe it’s because his own mattered so little to him, that he found it hard to understand why other people were so sentimental about it and it always was that way. From the youngest days, he wasn’t exactly a child that was allowed to enjoy all of those little, human pleasantries. Everything that was obvious for his peers, to him was a foreign concept. He was treated as an adult at the age as little as 5 and cake and ribbons were simply never an option.

Then, high school came and one of his birthdays was really special – the one when him, Suguru and Shoko spent the entire day together, doing sweet little nothings and even though he insisted that it was just purely friendly meeting, he could feel the effect that day had on him. He was truly happy. It was in the middle of first year in Jujutsu tech, the first winter together with his former classmates. A year after that held no similar magic. Suguru was changed during the second year and then, he left and along with him, most of Satoru’s happiness was also gone.

Years passed and Gojo made it a habit to work on his birthday, to distract himself from the celebrative aura that he was so stubbornly avoiding. Sure, for Tsumiki or Megumi – each year he was preparing something special, but himself? No.

You met Satoru in January that year. Born and raised in Kyoto, you spent your life over there, supporting the Jujutsu tech in that city and right after new year you moved to Tokyo, by the order of Gakuganji. It was a big change for you but you were excited to finally meet the strongest sorcerer of the current era – the one that you’ve only heard stories about and never actually had a chance to meet in person. Once you’ve met him, you realized that everything that Utahime had told you wasn’t exactly true and you blamed it on their long-term love-hate friendship. To you, Gojo was just lovely.

It didn’t take long for the feelings to develop. Not even a month had passed and already you were unofficially dating. The countless dates you shared, hours of late-night talks and slowly introduced intimacy all led you to where you were now. In the apartment that you share with him, waiting for Gojo to come back from the mission. It was 7th of December, the day of his birthday and you know he’s not too fond of it, but you were determined to make it special for him.

“Are you coming?” You asked over the phone and you could hear Satoru exhaling. “The house feels too empty without you, love.”

“I have just one more curse to exorcise and I’ll be heading home,” he replied, his tone tenderly gentle. “It’s late already, it’s okay if you go to sleep, sweets.”

“I’ll wait. Miss you, ‘toru. See ya soon?”

“Alright, baby, I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?”

“Yeah. Till later.”

When Gojo entered the apartment, just barely an hour after the call, he was heavily relieved to notice that it’s only you in the house. Once he pulled the blindfold off his head, the very faint, dimmed light soothed his tired eyes.

“You’re home,” your voice, so soft and lovely, met his ears as he stepped in deeper.

“I am,” he said, studying your form that came into the picture when you joined him in the living area. “Sorry to keep you waiting, you’re probably tired from waiting, hm?”

“It’s fine,” you smiled and Satoru could’ve sworn that every time he sees your features turning into the ones of happiness, he feels all of his insides warm up. Was that what home felt like? He had no idea, but if so, he was sure you were his home. “Go wash your hands, maybe get more comfy and I’ll warm a dinner for you, how’s that sound?”

“Perfect. Sounds absolutely perfect,” he allowed himself to bend to your level, to reach your lips and you didn’t think twice before cradling his face into your soft palms, kissing him back. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he muttered, pulling away with great difficulty.

“I’ll wait,” yet another smile you gave him, absolutely breathtaking, so sweet that he could almost feel the taste of it on his tongue. “Go wash your hands. How about after you eat we go for a nice, hot bath?”

“You with me?” He just made sure and with a nod you confirmed. “I’m in. Absolutely. I’ll be back.”

He’s left you with a chuckle, almost running to bathroom and it’s got you all happy. And even more happy you were once Satoru ate the late dinner that you made just for him. He wouldn’t tell you, but you knew all too well that after a job like he had that day, he’s always hungry and usually, he’d grab some fast foods at his way home to satiate the initial hunger. He never wished for you to stay up late and wait for him with dinner. People usually consider him as silly and ignorant, but truth is, he’s the most caring person you’ve met in your life.

“That’s perfect,” Satoru nearly moaned when the two of you settled in the tub, you between his legs, leaning against his chest as his long arms were wrapped around your body. The water was pleasantly hot, bearing the softest scent of the bath soap, and he thought for a moment that it couldn’t possibly get better until your lips didn’t find the most sensitive spot on the side of his neck. You were gently nipping at his skin, spreading feathery touches all over his torso as you were cuddled tightly next to his heart. The already opened box of his favorite kikufuku was standing right next to the tub.

“Today is your birthday, Satoru,” you began, and immediately, the wave of tension washed over him. “I know you don’t like that day, but to me, it is important.”

“Why?” He asked, once again melting underneath your touch like a batter would when warmed up. “It’s a day like every other. Nothing good ever happened that day.”

“But it did. You were born and it’s only because of this, that I could meet you so many years later. Only because you were born, the kids were saved… Megumi, Tsumiki, Yuta, now Yuji. So many amazing things happened and I know that you never truly had a chance to celebrate it, so let me now celebrate it for you.”

“If you say so…”

“I wanted to keep it all quiet, to spend the time with you and celebrate you. Because to me, you are a gift and I know that there’s not much I could buy you, so I wanted to give you me.”

To Gojo, it meant more than you were probably able to imagine. Material things could never fill in the void inside of him, there was nothing he needed and he couldn’t buy himself. It was the emptiness in his heart that he felt is impossible to patch up and now, it suddenly felt okay. He felt complete and it’s all because of your presence in his life. And it felt warm, so fuzzy and pleasant to feel your mark inside of him.

“If you are the gift, I think I could enjoy that day from now on,” he smiled softly, leaning his head and capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

“I’m all yours, Satoru. My heart, my body, my soul… All of it is yours.”

“I think I couldn’t receive a bigger blessing,” his words vibrated against your mouth and a with a chuckle you realized that he feels the same about you, as you feel about him. “You know, for my entire life I forced myself to get used to being lonely. I thought it’s just how my life’s gonna look like. You’re born alone, live alone and die alone.”

“Now you’re not alone,” you told him, once again pressing your lips upon his own. “And I’ll stay for as long as you’ll let me.”

“Then please, stay with me until the day I die.”

“You got this,” it was a whisper, but Gojo heard it clearly. It was so quiet, but for him it meant the world.

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joelswritingmistress · 3 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 43

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

The night was nearly perfect. No, it was perfect. Meeting Dr. Miller’s parents and getting insight into their family dynamic was so enjoyable I didn’t want the night to end.

Normally, I couldn’t wait to drag him back to wherever the two of you could be alone. When everyone began to say goodnight after their final drink of the evening, I was actually disappointed. His mother and father were equally witty, both in different ways. She was fiery, he was dry but they complimented one another so well. And hearing an embarrassing story or two from Dr. Miller’s childhood was icing on the cake.

Strolling hand-in-hand with him now that the two of us were alone, however, had my stomach fluttering with those butterflies that just wouldn’t go away. Meeting the Miller family heightened my feelings for Joel.

Joel. Joel. It was Joel. I knew I had to get used to that, and in my mind, finally, I was.

When we got to the door of our room, I put a hand on his chest when the two of us turned instinctively toward one another. I looked down and back up to meet his stare.

“This has been a great night,” I told him. It was quite the understatement. My heart was aching in such a way that I knew I had fallen deeper in love with Dr. Miller. I didn't think that was possible - until tonight. My attachment and fear of loss had heightened, and it suddenly made me all the more frightened to lose them - all of them. Joel, Carol, Will, Chas and Franky. I wanted to be a part of their circle; their family.

“Gotta love those embarrassing stories,” Dr. Miller said with a grin, beginning to put the key card into place to open the door.

“You have a really great family,” I told him, as the door clicked open. He allowed me inside a step ahead of him.

“They are great,” he acknowledged. “I honestly don’t know what I would do without them.”

I smiled up at him and I felt a rush of emotion. It could have made me cry if I allowed myself to indulge in it, but I didn’t. When I pulled Dr. Miller in for a long hug, I closed my eyes. He was my rock.

Dr. Miller cradled the back of my head with his hand and kissed the top of my head. “I really do love you, ya know.”

“I love you, too,” I muffled against him. When I pulled back I looked at him and shook my head, “I’m so scared to lose this.”

“Don’t be.” He shook his head.

“I am.” I shrugged, still attaching myself to him, “I didn’t think it was possible to fall any harder for you, Joel, but it keeps happening. It’s you. It’s your family. It’s this. It’s us.” My eyes met his when all of my thoughts finally manifested into a cluster of fast-paced mini-sentences.

“I understand,” Dr. Miller claimed with a nod, “I do. Believe it or not, I have never felt so attached to somebody in my life. It’s rare that I’ve introduced someone to my mother and father.”

“Really?”

“I know we started off this thing kind of unconventionally,” he acknowledged, “And I know we’ve kind of done things in an order that probably wouldn’t make sense to most people, but I’ve felt connected to you since the first time I saw you.”

I smiled and swallowed hard and looked down. Fuck, I was trying not to cry. I hated crying. Especially in situations like this. When a tear fell, I wiped it away and Dr. Miller hugged me again.

“Everything’s good,” he reminded me, stroking my hair as he held me.

“I know.” I managed a deep breath, never allowing myself to get into a heavy sob. I dried the stray tears that betrayed me and flashed him a genuine smile. “It’s just a lot.. in a really good way that I’m not used to.”

“I get it.”

I knew he did. My hand fell to his face and I just looked at him in such a way that activated his need to kiss me. I could taste the whiskey on his tongue and it was more intoxicating than anything we’d had to drink at the party.

“You taste good,” I whispered against his lips, making him chuckle. I laughed along with him and we locked eyes again for a second before he dove back in, kissing me again.

Dr. Miller’s hands found the backs of my legs and lifted high up, gripping my buttocks on both sides as they rode up my dress. When I felt his fingers grip around the fabric of my lacy thong I bit down on my bottom lip.

He pulled them down with ease, toward my ankles. The heels I wore were still on and I allowed him to pull them off first before tossing my underwear to the floor.

I had grown ten times more confident in my own skin since being with Dr. Miller. I found myself far less than perfect, but he made me feel like a goddess without even trying. Without even thinking, I ducked my arms out of the straps of my dress and shoved it down toward my waist until I bared myself fully to him.

Something about the fact that Dr. Miller was still fully-clothed aroused me. Maybe it reminded me of his school attire and I was somehow associating our current situation with all of my office and classroom-based fantasies I still had for him.

I pulled him by his tie toward me and he wasted no time collapsing his body onto mine on the bed as he made out with me with more force. My legs parted, he made himself home between them and when I felt him reaching for the buckle on his pants I let my head fall back against the pillow in anticipation.

When I felt his bare skin against me as his pants slid off his hips, my arms tightened around his clothed-upper body. I whimpered in his ear when he upped our intimacy to the next level. Never in my life had a man felt so completely like home. My body was his to have as freely as my heart was.

I half-expected Dr. Miller to whisper those perfectly spoken dirty nothings into my ear as he moved methodically on top of me. I loved how naturally they rolled off his tongue. But, instead, he kissed along my collar bone, my neck and the tops of my breasts. It wasn’t aggressive and torrid, the way he often commenced our evenings. Dr. Miller was taking his time, moving inside of me at a slow, toe-curling, pace.

I laid back and enjoyed every inch of him. This is what I needed after a night like tonight; after acknowledging how deep my feelings truly were for him. I didn’t even know how badly I needed it until we were in the middle of it.

Dr. Miller pushed back onto his knees, still clad in his shirt and tie, and stared down at me as he held the outsides of my hips. I thought he was in full control until he stopped mid-thrust and closed his eyes, resting his hands on my bent knees. He let out a deep breath and tried to compose himself.

When I felt him exit my body, I whined a little groan of disapproval. Despite him being on the verge of finishing, he managed a smile, still keeping his eyes closed. I giggled out loud and then reached for his tie again, guiding just his lips back to mine.

“I need a second,” he whispered, as his body slowly laid back down on top of mine. Dr. Miller pecked my lips several times in a row.

“Just kiss me then,” I begged, running my hands up the back of his shirt to feel him.

Dr. Miller wrestled with his tie, and I could see it was buying himself the time he needed; the perfect momentary distraction. He got it undone and pulled the shirt up and over his head, before towing the blankets up over us as he tossed it to the side.

With both hands he grabbed my face and kissed me again. The mid-love making foreplay left my body craving him even more. Kissing him, touching him, feeling his unveiled body colliding with mine beneath the covers was my own personal definition of ecstasy. It left me as putty in his hands to mold however he wished when he finally connected himself to me once more.

I was grateful that he had ditched his shirt so I could hold him properly. I hugged Dr. Miller’s body to mine. The warmth that radiated out of him and that scent of the Old Fashioned that still lingered somehow added to the experience

My eyes never opened. I let the rest of my senses take control and didn’t hold back how he was making me feel.

“Dr. Miller,” I whimpered as he finally surpassed the gentle threshold and bit down on my neck.

“Call me Joel,” he whispered back. It was the opposite of what he’d demanded in the past.

My arms tightened around him. “I will after I come,” I whispered again.

“Mmm..” Dr. Miller grabbed my face a little rougher now and we fought for dominance as we made out. I felt him pick up the pace, like the animal had been released from that one sentence.

He had primed me perfectly for this. The buildup was there. My insides were on fire and I knew that any of his thrusts could push me over the edge at any given moment. I held him hard, his erratic breaths landed on my neck.

“Come for me,” he begged in my ear, whispering directly against it as his body lurched forward in rapid succession.

I felt the impending explosion. Thrust after thrust I was closer. I whined. I whimpered. I moaned. Each time he begged me to let it out, and my inhibitions lowered as my orgasm began to creep in.

“Fuck, Dr. Miller.” I cried out his name and then cursed again as I let myself go to the eruption of pleasure.

“Ohhh, fuck..” He continued to thrust but I knew he was coming from how loud he groaned, accompanied by the phrase I’d grown to lust and love, “Ohh… good girl. Fuck. You’re so good.” He came as hard as I did, pumping into me a final series of times as I dug my fingers into his upper back and held him hard against me.

We both breathed heavily as we writhed in the aftermath of our simultaneous orgasms. I hummed a moan into his ear and he let his head fall against the pillow as his body went limp on top of me.

I kissed the top of his shoulder lazily and then let my head fall back again. “Mmm..”

“Mmm..” Dr. Miller echoed. He kissed my cheek and I smiled, still hugging him against me with no intention of letting go. “I’m tempted to just quit my job and use all my money to take you away to some tropical island and just.. drink fruity drinks and do this with you six times a day for the rest of our lives.”

I smiled and moaned again quietly as Dr. Miller began to gently kiss my neck. “Don’t tease me.” I let out a little laugh.

“Mmm..” He planted a long, closed-mouth kiss on my lips. “I’m in this for the long haul, ya know.”

I opened my eyes and looked up as his flickered open at the same time. “You mean that?” I honestly don’t know why I asked that, but a part of me wanted to hear him say it again. It was misplaced insecurity because of how overwhelmingly perfect our situation felt.

“Yeah.” Dr. Miller gave a nod. His eyes studied mine.

“So am I,” I said back, “If you’ll have me.”

“Again and again.” He peppered my lips as he spoke, “And again.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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wildemaven · 11 months

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (Nicknamed Poppy)

WC: 6600

Warning: 18+ Blog/Minors will be blocked; Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

A/N: We’ll, there’s a lot here. This week was draining with a teething/no sleeping babe— but I was determined to get this finished! I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m excited for this part of their story! Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey again for her support and proofreading every week! And thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with these two dumb dumbs as they figure their shit out. Love you all!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Next

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Dieter wills himself to regulate the adrenaline surging through him, it has his muscles tingling as its increasing levels spread through every pliable fiber.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

He takes in his surroundings, a steady attempt at grounding his mind, assuring him, keeping him present, giving him a chance to regain his composure.

He Sees…

The ornate tile that dresses the front steps to your Spanish Revival home, the perfect backdrop to the ‘welcome’ mat that greets him the minute he arrives to your place.

The sturdy wooden door attached to your home that keeps you protected, allowing you to live comfortably and securely without a bother from the outside world.

The well maintained landscape, no real knowledge of the specific varieties of plants that decorate the front, he senses a low maintenance and drought tolerant feel— a few things he had never heard of until moving in with Diem.

The way the sky begins to shift from its golden orange and purple hues to an even shade of deep blue as the sun tucks behind the horizon line, welcoming the stillness of the night.

The way he is actively replaying an episodic memory of you from just an hour ago when you had joined him at Diem’s house to read over his lines for his upcoming movie role.

“Are you sure you even want me doing this? I don’t know a single thing about acting. Can’t Diem help?? I don’t want to mess you up.”

It’s been a few days since the Capri re-grand opening. And a few days since yours and Dieter’s almost kiss.

There hasn’t really been a discussion on what had happened, or almost happened, only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen each other since Dieter had to leave to take Wren home.

Now you find yourselves sitting in Diem’s living room, on opposite ends of her sectional couch, ignoring the residual heat that is currently reigniting as you both look over the scripts you’re each holding— alone together, zero distractions.

“This scene is between two people who are navigating a new relationship, dancing around the sexual tension between them—“

The coincidence not lost on you.

“So, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d read through this with my sister. And I doubt she’d want to anyways, she hates this kinda shit, so I don’t even bother.“

“Okay, I’ll try my best, but if I fuck up—“

“You’re not gonna fuck up. I highlighted your lines in pink, just focus on those and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re a teacher— you read stories for a living, just think of it like you’re reading to your class.”

“Dieter, it says right here at the bottom of the page in bold type, ‘HER EYES CLOSE AT HIS TOUCH FOLLOWED BY LOW SENSUAL MOANS’— there’s no fucking way I can imagine myself reading this to my class.”

You look up from the paper, his eyes already on you. You note the way his neck muscles flex as he swallows, the grip on his paper a little tighter— you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

He touches…

The weight of his chip, the brass cool against his warm clammy skin, pulling it from his pocket, it sits heavy in his palm— a quick reminder that who he was doesn’t define him now. A few light tosses, before gripping it with his thumb and his forefinger, one last look before returning it to his pocket.

The compact device that connects him to everything important to him in a single touch, his finger navigating back and forth between the home screen image of Wren and him eating donuts then to the text you had sent not long after leaving Diem’s house — Poppy💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it — Then double checking the numbers on the house match the ones that you sent after he text back asking if he could come over tonight— a perfect match.

The silky strands of his ruffled dark brown hair as he tries to tame his wild curls, the cottony fabric of his gray weathered shirt pulling at it in such a way so it drapes over him just right, the rough texture of his faded jeans against his sweaty hands as he rubs them several times over where they hug his thighs— a blind once over of his appearance.

The way his hand skims over the velvety skin above your knee, the hem of your dress delicately dancing over his fingertips, the faint scar that now lives on the side of your thigh from a biking accident as a kid lays uneven under his gentle graze.

“Is this okay?”

Somewhere between shared lines, and fiery dialogue, Dieter finds himself sitting closer to you, his knee brushing against yours—hand so effortlessly placed on your thigh as he checks in with your comfort.

“Y-yeah— it says ‘HIS HAND REACHES THE APEX BETWEEN HER THIGHS’, so she would know that his hand is moving up her leg—.” Your voice trembles as you try to concentrate on the words printed in bold on the current page.

Looking up, you see Dieter’s focus solely on you, his folded script tucked between his leg and the couch cushion.

“That’s not what I asked.” There's a deep husk to his voice, his movements halted as he draws your attention away from the pages and up to him. “Are you comfortable with this, not what the paper reads or act is telling us to do. Is this okay with you?” Your consent, regardless of what the characters are doing, his number one priority.

“Y-yeah…” You murmur as you look down to where his hand is still subtly holding your leg. Your attention drawn back to his handsome face, placing your hand on top of his, encouraging him to continue his efforts.

He hears…

The symphonic resonance of the nightfall harmonics drifts through in the crisp evening air, a modest breeze carries the lilt of the chirping crickets throughout the stilled neighborhood, the rustling of the leaves scattered and swirling across the sidewalk, the faint cries of coyote pups awaiting the arrival of their mother who’s been in search of a hearty meal.

The way his heart beat reverberates against his eardrums, the thudding of his heart an emotive chorus, its pace evening out with each grounding thought.

The way your breath catches, its auditory staccato floats through the air and nestles somewhere deep within his mind, storing its melodic rhythm away as an echoic file, never wanting to forget how it sounds.

Dieter shifts himself forward, the crunch of the leather puckering as he settles a knee on the cushion, a hand gripping the back of the couch as he angles himself closer.

The crackle of paper startles you, Dieter grabbing the crumbled heap of papers and tossing it over his shoulder, removing any distractions that might be bothering.

Bit by bit you allow yourself to fall back onto the mound of decorative pillows in the corner of the couch. Dieter following your lead, keeping a close distance between you as he settled himself between your legs.

“When is Diem going to be home?” You breathed, a warmth spreads through your body as you fixate on the fact that this is really happening.

“Don’t know, at least an hour.”

A few loose curls fall into Dieter’s face, you lightly comb them back, the movements unhurried and attentive. Your fingers catching the frames of his glasses in the process, you gingerly remove them from his face, carefully tossing them to the side— producing your favorite lopsided grin from him.

Dieter pauses to study every little detail of this moment— the flash of want in your eyes, the way your fingertips skim over and around his taut biceps, the deliberate way the tip of your tongue wets your bottom lip before it’s drawn in between your teeth, the way your lungs continue to fill with the air you’re both sharing— he’s never felt more alive than in this moment.

He smells…

The night brings a refreshing scent of calmer air, the aromatic warmth of the citrus groves meld with the fragrant lavender farms that accumulates throughout the day, the herbal aroma that triggers a distinct nostalgic smell of his childhood.

The way your perfume mixes with your natural pheromones, the unmistakable notes of musky vanilla and orange blossom paired with your own unique scent stimulates his olfactory nerves, his spine tingling with pleasure as he breathes you in.

Dieter takes his time, deliberate in his own way, he wants to take his time— savor the moment.

He lowers himself down to the open space where your shoulder meets your neck— warm, delicate and inviting.

You angle your head, allowing him more space to move, your hands wrapping themselves around his neck, twisting his hair between your fingers.

Dieter places a soft tentative kiss to your shoulder, then slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the column of your neck, mindful of how responsive you are, nudging at your jaw before stopping.

“You’re so fucking soft.” His lips ghosting over your ear, voice honeyed and thick, his hand now situated on your bare hip, thumb toying with the seam of your underwear.

You nuzzle into the side of his head, his scent provocative in the way you crave it immensely. The smokiness of the sandalwood and cedarwood compliment the spicy musk and floral base— it’s Dieter, wild and delicious.

He tastes…

The ache for sustenance, a morsel of pleasure activates his taste buds, a palatable desire that he craves in hopes to fight off the hunger that plagues him.

A fieriness burns through your body, causing you to lose all ability to properly handle the way Dieter is making you feel— ravenous. You need more, something substantial that satiates the emptiness and the yearning.

The unfaltering look in his eyes, an unspoken feeling of infatuation that has you melting under his gaze.

Dieter leans in, gradually closing the gap between his lips and yours, sparking the immediate surge of oxytocin actively flowing through your veins.

His breath fanning across your lips, warm and minty, a brief remembrance of your almost kiss— several times over.

This position offers a new approach, angle of motion, feeling the fullness of his bottom lip catch your top lip, your fingers gripping tightly to his hair in anticipation as the weight of his lips begin to slot gently over yours.

*CLICK*

“Dieter? I’m home!” Diem announces her arrival.

Releasing the breath you were holding, grip loosened, warmth lifted— another moment gone.

“Fuck me!” Dieter grumbles, his forehead falling to your shoulder, your chest vibrating with a silent laugh.

Dieter places a kiss to your shoulder then pushes himself back from where he had been hovering over you seconds before, helping you to readjust the flowy fabric of your dress, a silent look to you asking “are you okay?”— you nod yes.

His body slumps back into the cushioned backrest, head falling back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance at Diem’s horrible timing.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here too, Poppy. I dropped Wren off for a playdate and picked up some dinner on the way home. You hungry?”

“Umm, no I’m good. Actually, I’m going to head out. I’ve got— there’s some things I need to do. So, yeah— I’m gonna go.”

You feel like two teenagers who were caught by the other’s parents. That awkwardness that looms over afterwards, not really knowing what to say or do.

You give his leg a light squeeze, pulling his attention back from his sulking, propping himself up with his arms on his knees, grabbing your hand and returning the faint gesture.

“I’ll text you later.” You mouthed to him before grabbing your items from the coffee table and making your way to the front door.

“You still on for this Friday?” Diem asks you as she’s unboxing the pizzas she had picked up, arranging a few slices nicely on plates.

“Yep— yeah! Friday is still good! See you later.” Your response short and to the point as you close the door behind you.

Dieter can hear the rustling of the wrappers and then a stillness hangs in the air. His back is to where Diem is standing in the kitchen, but he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you mention she was coming over? I would have grabbed more food, we could have all hung out together.”

“It was a last minute thing. I asked her to come read lines with me.”

Diem rounds the couch and places the food on the coffee table, before sitting and making herself comfortable.

“So… Did you finally kiss her?”

That gets a laugh from Dieter, face falling into his hands at the ridiculousness of Diem’s question.

“No, I haven’t kissed her.” Tilting his head towards where she’s sitting, chin resting against his clasped hands.

“Oh my god! You haven’t kissed her yet? What the hell, Dieter!”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying.” He assures her, picking at the toppings of his pizza slice that had fallen onto the plate.

“I don’t get it. If you’ve been trying, then what’s stopping you from actually doing it?”

“You are! Literally every chance I’ve taken, you stroll on in and fuckin’ cockblock me.”

“Wait— you’re blaming me for you not kissing her?” The shocked look on her face is priceless and equally hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m definitely blaming you. You have the worst timing ever!” He laughed, because even as annoyed as he is, the whole situation is a little funny.

*BUZZ*

The vibration of his phone cuts into their conversation, a text from you pops up on to the screen, he swipes it open.

Poppy 💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it.

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few.

He wipes his greasy fingers with a napkin then tossing it onto his forgotten pizza. He stands to his full height, placing his phone in his pocket and makes his way to the door.

“Where are you going? I was going to turn on that one show we’ve been wanting to watch.”

“I’m— going out. Go ahead and start it without me.” He shouts as the door clicks closed behind him.

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few.

Poppy 💐- House number 402. White house on the left side of the street. See you soon!

The distance from your house to Diem’s is a short one, 3 minutes if you’re a fast Walker, 5-6 if you take your time.

Dieter was on his way— to your house.

You toss your phone onto the counter, and run to the bathroom. Not knowing how soon he was leaving after stating he’d be here in a few, didn’t leave you much time to freshen up.

You literally just saw him, so you kept it simple a few swipes of deodorant, clean away any mascara flakes and opting for a fresh coat of chapstick instead of lipstick— less is more approach.

2 minutes down.

Running through the house, you do a quick once over, grabbing any loose items, out of place items or kind of embarrassing items and tossing them into your hall closet— making sure to snag your copy of ‘My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex’ off of the coffee table.

4 minutes down.

Heading into the kitchen— Maybe he’ll want something to drink? You grab two tall glasses and fill them with ice, sitting on the counter waiting to fill with whatever Dieter wants.

5 minutes down.

Nervously, you stare at the front door, your nervous tick of picking at your fingernails keeps your hands busy. Should I turn some music on? Should I have put on a little more perfume? Maybe I should have brushed my teeth?

*Knock Knock Knock*

You grab for the door handle, pausing for a minute to take a deep breath, then cracking the door open to see Dieter standing on your front porch, hands in his pockets, casually looking down at his feet then up to you at the sound of the creaky door hinges— his face lights up instantly.

“Hey! Hope you found it okay?” You can’t help the dopey smile that grows on your face.

“No issues at all. Didn’t realize how close you lived this whole time.” He says, gesturing in the direction of Diem’s house.

“Yeah, almost neighbors.” Your smirk is laced in flirtation, your head leaning against the edge of the door in the most 90s rom-com way. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.”

“Are you thirsty at all? I have sparkling and regular water, Diet Coke, and some beer— I haven’t made it to the store this week so I’m running low on things. I’ll be more prepared next time.” You ramble as you lead him into the kitchen, your nervous energy spiking just slightly.

“I’m good for right now, thank you. So, there will be a next time?” He asks, observing the way you bite at your lower lip when he mentions the prospect of a “next time”.

“Yeah,” You shrug your shoulders, noting the way the corner of his mouth quirks up and the light flutter in your stomach that follows. “I think so, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, definitely want that.”

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sounds of home— the tick of the clock, the clinking of ice falling into the tray, a faint sound of music coming from another room.

“Oh! I—I have your jacket, I keep meaning to bring it over and then it would slip my mind…” Very much a lie, you were wearing it early this morning while you sipped your morning coffee, reading the latest chapter of ‘My Pleasure’… and you also might have worn it afterwards, when you needed a little— relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I mean, a little Birdie has been asking about it— it’s not a big deal.”

“Let me go grab it so I’m not tempted to hold it ransom for longer. Umm, help yourself to whatever. Then I can show you the easel, see if it’s something that will work for you.”

“Okay.”

Dieter takes in your home, it’s very much you.

Your love for plants extends inside, dozens of potted green plants, in varying shapes and sizes grace just your living room alone.

There’s a hint of a modern flare to your style, clean lines and lots of wood, a very neutral aesthetic— most of the color living as art work on your walls.

The art hanging throughout your home, he can only assume is your own. He’s drawn to the texture and the style of each painting— faint lines formed into human figures , landscapes resembling the world outside of these walls, and vivid abstract strokes of color adorn canvas everywhere he looks.

A soft glow catches his eye and like a moth to a flame, he’s lured to a dimly lit room— your art studio.

Large windows flank the walls, he imagines the natural light in the daytime is ideal in a space like this.

Tattered empty tubes of acrylic paint, evidence of being overly pinched to extricate every last bit of paint, strewn across a large table against the wall. Empty glass food jars repurposed as storage for your massive collection of paint brushes, while spatulas and other painting instruments lay haphazardly across the tabletop.

The table seems to double as a desk, once light colored, now coated in layers of colorful dried paint drips and spills. He runs his fingers over the surface, a balance of smooth and irregular textures, imagining the years you’ve spent standing over this table deliberately colors and mixing new ones.

Dieter thinks you must have been painting recently, a clear palette holds fresh dollops of paint in the center with a few experimental strokes on the side. He dips a finger into one of the little mounds, rubbing the emulsion between three fingers. It's cold and wet as it glides over his skin.

The wall of windows behind him he finds an easel, it too covered in coats of paint— a newer canvas sits in the support bar, a rough sketch of something just barely visible.

Next to where the easel rests, there are canvases stacked neatly against the wall along the floor. He analyzes each painting with regard, taking in each deliberate stroke and use of color— intently connecting with the emotions you’ve experienced in creating each piece.

He admires your tenacity. Through your long days of teaching at the school, little humans requiring so much of your attention for hours. To volunteering your time to help others explore their creativity at the gallery, planning and teaching weekly. And yet, you still find time to cater to your needs by doing something that makes your life more fulfilling, not allowing any roadblocks to deter your endeavors.

There’s an ache in his chest, a deep reminder of how different his life could have been had he not been bound by the shackles of Hollywood and the dark world that surrounds it.

Dieter had only ever dreamed of having such a space like this of his own, where he could chase a creative high and drown out the loud noises that followed him daily.

Stopping his thoughts before they begin to spiral, he thinks back to a motivational speaker he listened in on while in rehab. There were a lot of valuable words shared during the speech, but he remembers the line that really stood out to him— even through the darkest moments and afflictions that overpowered all his memories and people closest to him, it didn’t mean he is less worthy of a good life, a great life, moving forward.

Dieter realizes that with everything he’d lived through and how much hurt he had caused, he knows those things led him to this point in time— they led him to you.

“I ended up washing it, read the care instructions on the tag so I wouldn’t fuck it up. I found some melted Kit-Kats in the pockets and a few condom wrappers— this jacket has definitely seen some things…” You stop talking when you realize you’re met with an empty room, Dieter not where you had left him. “Dieter?”

There’s a slight movement that pulls your attention in the direction of your studio.

You find Dieter standing in the center of the room, the flicker from a burning candle emits a diffused light, washing his sharp features in a soft glow. There’s almost a pensiveness to his expression, hands tucked in his pockets lost in his thoughts, you watch him quietly take in the room around him.

“I see you helped yourself to a house tour.” You announce your presence as you enter the room, placing his jacket on the overstuffed chair in the corner then turning around to walk in the direction of your large art table, the skirt of your dress shifting from side to side as you walk.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—“ He starts to apologize, realizing you both hadn’t set any boundaries with each other.

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. I hid all my incriminating things already.” You joke, but there’s something about him that makes you feel like you don’t have to be guarded.

“Are these for your showing?” He asks, pointing to the canvases he had just been studying.

“Yeah,” You say as you turn to face him, lean back against the table. “They’re all pretty much done— I’ll probably fine tune some things before the big day.”

“Can I ask what they represent?? I can see two figures— a man and a woman in some sort of intimate setting. I see the woman is fully fleshed out in color with distinct features, similar to your own— but the man looks like a shadowed figure, starting out blank, then slowly gaining color and personality in each painting— like an evolution of some sort. But what’s the narrative behind them?”

The way he’s analyzing your work, makes you feel even more captivated by him.

“I was having this dream— a nightmare maybe? For weeks, it would come to me every night, always starting out in the same way. I would feel him all around me— his hands, lips, everything. I would try to speak to him, but he would never respond, and I could never see his face, didn’t know who he was. Then he would vanish, like I had lost him and I would wake up in a panic. But as the weeks went on, it was like I could start to see him a little clearer…”

Dieter hangs on to your every word, he’s drawn in to your openness to share your thoughts so freely with him. He steps closer to where you’re standing, wanting to know more about these dreams.

“Go on.” He says softly, encouraging you to share more details.

“Some nights his face was a blur, but I could see his features, more clearly each night. And as his face became more visible over time, the dreams didn’t feel like I was losing him— it felt like I was gaining more of him. The last week or so, I can see his face— I know who he is.”

At some point in explaining the story behind your paintings, your eyes fell to the floor— the way he was watching you so intently felt overwhelming the closer he got.

“Who is he?” He asks, placing two fingers under your chin to slowly lift your gaze up to him.

“You.”

It’s a fierce softness in the way his mouth molds to yours, the gentle press of his lips is breathtaking— punching the air right from your lungs.

His touch is meticulous and thoughtful, resting his hands on your bare thighs, fingers lightly graze over your soft skin leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps.

Your hands snake up his body, settling back to where they were not so long ago— cupping the back of his head, slow drawn out scratches to his scalp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your mouth.

“Y-yes— more than okay!” You breathe out— you’ve literally dreamt of this moment.

Experimentally you slowly swipe your tongue across his plump bottom lip, silently begging for a little more and he obliges, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. An equal exchange of feelings and yearning as the kiss alternates between a tangle of tongues and sweet pecks.

Dieter pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, his breaths ragged puffs across your warm face.

“Why did you stop?” Your breath equally as ragged, chest heaving as you question his halted movements.

“Be-because—“ His throat dry as he tries to regulate his breathing. “If we don’t stop, things will get— more serious.”

“I-I’m failing to see the problem in that.” You tease.

“I don’t have any condoms— I didn’t think we’d get this far with our track record.”

“I locked the door, after I let you in— didn’t want to chance any interruptions.” His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m clean and on the pill— but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I am, clean I mean— I’m clean, plus haven’t been with anyone in, well, awhile now. Might be a little rusty in all actuality.” He confesses, his thumbs still moving in sweeping motions over the tops of your thighs. “You sure you want this?”

“Very, very sure.” You whisper against his lips, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it slowly up under your dress to the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs since he started kissing you.

“Fuck!” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your bare cunt, nearly choking on air— his fingers start to tentatively swipe through your wet folds, watching as your eyes start to roll back in pleasure.

“I thought I had felt some kind of underwear earlier?” He asks, as his fingers coated in your slick start to draw lazy circles over your sensitive clit.

“Ah!— I-I did. But I was so keyed up when I — left, I came home and had to— Oh! I had to— Fuck I can’t think straight when you’re doing that!”

“Did you come home and touch yourself?”

“Yessss— Oh god!” You whine breathlessly as two of his fingers enter your heated core, remnants of your earlier orgasm fully welcoming him.

“You’re so perfect.” He exclaimed,

his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close, his thumb lightly tracing across your lower lip.

His two fingers continue to move in and out of you, working up so effortlessly. He presses a long slow kiss to your lips, followed by a few short light ones.

You can feel yourself moving closer to the edge, there’s a tingle running down your spine, converging with the fire that’s beginning to break within you. Your velvety walls begin to flutter around Dieter’s fingers, prompting him to kiss you a little deeper and it’s just the push you need.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come—“ Your body begins to shake, your hands slamming done on your table— paint splattering into the air.

It’s an inferno of ecstasy blazing through your body, you wrap your arms around Dieter’s waist, clinging to him as you ride it out— letting the embers cool down.

Without a single breath, you grab for the button on Dieter’s jeans as he tries to pull at the straps of your dress. It’s a jumbled mess of limbs, but finally working in tandem to rid each other of clothes.

Dieter crowds you against the table, the edge digging into your lower back causing you to yelp.

“Are you okay?” His eyes etched in concern, as he scans over your blissed out features.

“Ye-yeah! The ta-table is digging.” You say, pointing to show him.

He bends down to grab onto the back of your thighs. “Jump.” He says as he helps guide your naked body onto the table.

His hands rest on the table as he leans in to kiss you again, unhurried as he licks into your mouth as he guides your body to lay down on the table.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Poppy.” He says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and over your chest, stopping and pressing his lips over the spot that he hopes to hold on to for a while— your heart.

The gesture has your eyes welling up, blinking rapidly to fight them off. You feel so completely overwhelmed by him, you have to actively stop yourself from telling him how in love you are with him.

He lifts himself off of you just enough to reach between the two of you, giving his cock a few hasty strokes before notching its weeping head at your entrance.

“Fuck!” He gasps as he slowly pushes his full length into your warm cunt— the slightest ghosting of your climax now pulsing around him.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in as close to you as possible, silently begging him to move, but he grips onto your leg to halt your movements.

“Wait— I need a minute otherwise this is going to be over before it even happens.” He says, resting his head on your sternum to give himself a moment.

“Dieter, it’s fine. Just take what you need— I’m— I’m good.” You feel more than satisfied with the two orgasms you’ve already had, you just want to feel him.

He slowly states to move his hips, several purposeful thrusts, wanting to savor the way you feel, the warmth already starting to bloom in his belly.

Dieter lifts himself off of you, sensing this new angle is pleasant based on how you start to arch your back off the table, his steady thrusts working you both up in a desired frenzy.

“Fuuuuck, you feel like a dream., Poppy.” His voice is hoarse, glancing down to watch the way your arousal coats him, his hands gripping your waist as he thrusting into with a little more earnestness.

“Dieter— I think I’m going to come again— oh god!!” You announced into the lust filled room, the tell-tale signs barreling through your body.

You try to grab onto something, hands looking for something to anchor yourself to, Dieter too far away and too lost in his own pursuit— each thrust is a little deeper producing your muscles to tighten on their own accord.

An unexpected swipe of Dieter’s thumb over your clit is blinding, sweet erotic sounds pouring from your mouth, hands slamming back onto the table, you're met with wetness, your brain registering where you are and that your hands are covered in paint.

The thick emulsion is cold when it hits your skin, your nipples pebble at the sensation of the paint gliding over them, your hands kneading the weight of your breasts— paint building up between your fingers with each calculated squeeze, each roll of your nipple sends you closer to your third orgasm.

You look up to see Dieter’s slack jawed expression, which only makes you emphasize your movements, giving him a little show. You’re arched back putting your chest on display, your hands working over your exposed skin covering your upper body in a rainbow of colors.

“Oh shit— shitshitshitshit— I’m gonna— fuck!” The sight of you sets Dieter off, folding himself over the top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to falter at the way your cunt begins to contract around him.

A gravelly moan against your damp skin and one final thrust, his hips still as he’s spilling into you.

The room is still again. The faint scent of your oud and sandalwood candle is overpowered by the sex hazed aroma. Chests moving against each other simultaneously, lungs begging to properly breathe, skin slipping with each pull of air— this might become your favorite way to create art.

A soft kiss to your shoulder as Dieter lifts himself up into his forearms, resting his temple against your jaw to give his arms a chance to regain their strength before giving you a softer kiss to your lips.

“That was—“ He’s still trying to regulate his breathing, words jumbled in his brain and not quite producing properly.

“Amazing!” You finish his sentence for him.

“Yeah— amazing.” He says, one more kiss because he doesn’t think he’s given you enough yet, then he’s slowly pulling out of you and helping you sit upright.

“What a mess we made of ourselves.” You laugh as you examine both of your colorful torsos.

“Worth it.” Dieter replied with a slight shrug and a quirky smile on his handsome face.

“I’m going to go grab some stuff to clean us up. I’ll be right back.”

Hopping off the table to head towards your bathroom, Dieter grabs you by the wrist, spinning you back towards him, your bodies flush against each once more as he gives you a toe curling kiss.

“Alright, hurry back.” He says, giving your backside a few taps.

You take a few minutes to freshen yourself up, wiping away as much of the paint as you can.

Throwing on a clean pair of underwear and a loose shirt, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, you make your way back to your studio where you’re met with an unexpected sight when you get to the door, Dieter sitting in front of your easel where your last canvas sits. His naked body wrapped in his fuzzy coat, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moves around the canvas with a paint drenched brush.

You take a moment to just watch him, leaning into the door frame, watching how he looks so relaxed and happy.

“You snoop and you help yourself to my painting, you sir are a menace.” You jokingly say to him, it earns you a generous laugh.

“Sorry, guess I’m two for two now. I saw you had it roughly sketched out and thought I’d paint you the way I see you.” He explained, leaning back into the small metal chair.

“And how do you see me?”

“Beautiful.” The word floats out and around you, its weight settling into that little space in your chest that has felt empty for so long.

“That’s two times you’ve painted me now— I think those would be grounds for someone to fall in love.” You tease, but there’s truth wrapped up in your statement. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, making your way over to where he’s sitting.

He places the brush in the glass of water, his hand reaching out for you to come closer, softly grabbing at your hips he’s pulling you down so you’re straddling his lap— fully aware he’s still naked and covered in paint under his jacket.

“Do you?” He has to know if you’re feeling the same way as him. “Do you, love me?”

“Yes.” Your voice a little wobbly, your emotions bubbling up in your chest.

But you do, you love him without a doubt and it’s the most terrifying and thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a long time.

“I love you too, Poppy.” He whispers to you, his eyes glossy as he fights back tears.

“Why are you crying?” Wiping the single tear that has started to fall down his cheek.

“I’m scared— that I’m going to fuck this up. And you’re going to resent me. And I’ll be back to where I was a year ago— alone.”

Your heart nearly breaks at his confession.

“That’s not going to happen though.” Brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, caressing his face and hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But a wise man once told me— we’ll figure it out as we go.”

His arm wraps around your waist as his other hand cups the back of your neck, bringing your face to his, your nose bumping into his.

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips.

And before you even have a chance to reciprocate, he’s kissing you with so much love and feeling.

“Will you come? To see my showing on opening night?” You ask between feather-like kisses.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Poppy.”

It’s a few hours later when Dieter walks through the front door of Diem’s house, ready for a shower and sleep.

“You’re home late.” Diem’s voice sounds from the same spot on the couch he’d left her in.

“Uh, yeah. Lost track of time.”

“Were you at Poppy’s?” She asks with herround of motherly questioning.

“Yeah, I was. She had that easel, so I went to get it.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The easel.”

“Oh, I— I must have forgot it. We were talking, lost track of time. I’ll grab it another time. I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed. Night.” Hoping to throw her off his scent, the last thing he wants is to hear her boast about what you and him were up to.

“Night. Oh hey, Dieter.”

“Yeah.” Turning back towards her.

“Make sure you wash that cute hand print on your neck.” Her devilish grin beaming at him.

He gives her a middle finger for good measure, then heads to the bathroom.

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #dieter x poppy #wildemaven writes

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daenerysies · 5 months

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Aemma is the very tragic figure that the TG supporters make Alicent to be!

I will stand by that and they can argue with the walls!

there’s not a doubt in my mind that the writers decided to completely flip the script for aemma and alicent. aemma was 11 when she married a 16 years old viserys. alicent was 18 and viserys 29. while still not a great age gap, even by today’s standards alicent would be a full grown adult. it’s pretty clear from the get-go that alicent had agency and knew what she wanted out of the marriage; which was for her son, the king’s first born son, to sit the iron throne. she spent years antagonizing and isolating rhaenyra when she was a child, and even hinted that she knew ser criston was a predator towards her and still took him on as her sworn shield bc of her hatred for rhaenyra. this was a grown ass woman who decided to spend her years not preparing her son to rule and turning him into a halfway decent person, but instead bullying a motherless little girl due to sheer jealousy and conceit.

aemma on the other hand was a kid that was involuntarily married to an adult, who’s only purpose narrative wise was to give viserys heirs and die in childbirth (pretty familiar sounding story for targaryen women) so that he could remarry. they chose an older actress for the show to play aemma, i believe she was 40ish when the show was filmed, and cast an 18-19 year old for alicent. that would have her mid to late 20s when she had rhaenyra, and basically almost entirely removes how and when her victimhood began. she was the child bride, she was the one who was forced to get pregnant over and over again for viserys’ want of a son, she’s the one who ends up dying so devastatingly young; forced to give up her life and freedom bc her daughter wasn’t enough.

on the contrary, this would have been a fairly accurate casting for alicent, if they hadn’t decided to age her down to 14 at the beginning of the show and age rhaenyra up to 14 as well to create a doomed from the start friendship. rhaenyra was 8 years old when her mother died at 23 after aemma spent years either being pregnant, losing the pregnancy early, or going through multiple stillbirths. viserys started impregnating her when she was 13 years old. even the maester’s admitted that she was too young to be bedded, and that it had probably contributed to her fertility troubles. in f&b we’re only told that she died in childbirth, but she was forcibly cut open in the show, fully conscious the entire time that it was happening. too many people dismiss her death as necessary by saying she was going to die anyway, when in reality that doesn’t matter. she was a real, live human being who was gutted like a fish without her consent (another example of the show choosing to force unnecessary brutality and grotesqueness on women).

the show can try as hard as it wants to fully encompass alicent in the victim category, but they either fail to realize or do and don’t care that victimhood was never an aspect of her character; and in reducing her character to nothing more than that they’ve failed to properly adapt her motives and reasonings correctly for why she helped usurp rhaenyra and kickstart the dance of the dragons. aemma, however, was a victim; regardless of whichever media she is in. it was an integral part of her, as much as i hate to say it, and the writers failed to make the audience understand just how horrifying and tragic her life truly was.

#hotd #hotd critical #aemma arryn #anti alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #anti criston cole #anti viserys i targaryen #faye answers #acidbubblegummie

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pessimisticpigeonsworld · 23 days

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am I the only one who's scared for the upcoming Aegon the Conqueror adaptation...? The Dance is a lost case. It's destroyed, ruined, made into a minced meat and served as dog's food. It's unsalvaegable atp. But HBO wants to do the same to Aegon and his sisters and it makes me both furious and frightened. Mattson Tomlin will be the screenwriter. Ok, so far so good. He seems like a decent guy. He didn't post anything that'd imply he's going to turn this series into his own fanfic. But what next? I've researched the process of making a tv show, and if I'm not mistaken, Tomlin's sole job is to write the "core" of the story (the sequence of events, how it might begin and on what note should it end, a rough draft of dialoques, things like that) And then that script will be passed forward to five other screenwrites who can do with it whatever they want. What if Condal and Hess - the biggest f**cking hacks in the whole world - will be among those screenwriters chosen by HBO?? It's going be a nightmare. Oh god, the villainization of Rhaenys and Visenya while also making them a total weaklings without ambition or agenda. And yes, it's more likely than not that these asshats will make the Conquest, as well. They're HBO's favorites, since they made the ever successful House of the Alicent.

Oh, and I'm sure they gonna fuck the dragons just as much as their riders. Do you want to see Aegon riding a saggy, rotting Balerion with a dropping neck? Well that's exactly what you gonna get.

They hate Targaryens and everything that's associated with them.

Oh no, I'm right there with you anon. I honestly hope this show somehow dies like the Snow show. His perception of Daenerys is extremely telling of his inability to understand the bigger picture of the story.

Him accusing Dany of being "genocidal" in season 3 is fucking ridiculous. He's somehow construing her actions to overthrow a monstrous and oppressive system as genocide. Like, media literacy is just not present apparently. Since Dany shares parallels with the Conquerors, this perception is very... concerning. So, from my perspective, this is already doomed to be another shit show.

Considering how often people in the fandom like to interpret the relationship of the Conquerors as strained at best, I have very little confidence anyone HBO hires will be much different. HBO definitely hates the idea of any healthy relationships, romantic or otherwise, as we've seen in GOT and HOTD. I definitely think Visenya will end up hating Aegon and/or Rhaenys, and Aegon will probably resent Visenya and abuse Rhaenys.

I've always thought the GOT dragons were extremely uninspired. They dulled their colors and made them all look the same. I liked the HOTD dragons a lot more; but I agree that Vhagar looks kinda bad (she looks like a turtle 😭). Since Balerion is supposed to be older than Vhagar is in HOTD, they might go with the same idea for him, which is sad. Especially since they did a good job with Caraxes and Syrax (aside from keeping her the same size the whole show).

It's so sad and frustrating how determined HBO are to just destroy everything connected to ASOIAF. Time and again, they've proven that they just don't understand what GRRM wrote at all.

#anti hbo #anti hotd #anti got #aegon the conqueror #visenya targaryen #rhaenys the conqueror #asoiaf

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knifeshoeboys · 4 months

Text

Little Do You Know - F. Andersen

It’s finally done! This fic was written for the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston and is for @mp0625. It was a nice challenge to write a reader insert for the first time, I had a lot of fun creating this story and I hope you enjoy readiit just as much!

Also, everyone be warned, I didn’t look at a single calendar or any actual game scores. I just did what felt right and hoped for the best. Also, don’t think too closely about the reader’s job. I have no idea how it actually works, I just put a lot of imagination and confidence into writing it. There also is a guest appearance of Seth Jarvis.

Summary: Suddenly working for the Carolina Hurricanes wasn't how you'd thought your year would end. Everything that followed was just as surprising.

Pairing: Frederik Andersen x f!reader (no mentions of y/n)

Words: 11.9k (I’m sorry, this was planned to be like 3k words at most?? I have no idea what happend)

Warnings: a few swear words? Reader is described as shorter than Freddy, otherwise no physical descriptions. It might sound just a little angsty at the beginning, but it's really not; mostly fluff and maybe some light hurt/comfort

Jane's grin should have been enough to make you suspicious.

It was one evening, after another long shift at work and overtime that you would probably never see the pay for.

Even without looking at her, you knew the look Jane would give you. One of those pitying ones that made you a little more defensive than you should’ve been - a constant reminder that perhaps the year hadn't exactly been perfect.

But that didn't automatically mean Jane was right. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, you had once tried to tell her once. You were happy. No, really.

Sure, the breakup at the beginning of the year had been long and accompanied by a lot of shouting and tears. At the beginning you had been so sure that he was the one - only to be disappointed once again a few months later. But you could always use that as a learning experience, couldn’t you? Jane didn't know what she was talking about when she’d said that you seemed lonely sometimes. Better alone than with the wrong person, right?

And sure, the water damage to the apartment wasn't ideal either. But at least the only thing that couldn’t be saved was the kitchen. Everything else just needed time to dry and, well, maybe a new coat of paint. Two weeks later you had managed to find a new place to move into with your best friend, Jane.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong about your job being more than miserable. Seemingly endless overtime and the salary just enough to make ends meet.

Maybe Jane had a point, even though you hated to admit it.

You weren't unhappy per se. But maybe, just maybe, there was still room for improvement.

And now it was December.

Jane had gotten a telltale glint in her eyes when you both realized that. Less than four weeks left to end the year on a good note. Or maybe you should just wait for the next one and hope it’ll get better. So, with a shrug of your shoulders, you'd put the thought aside for the moment.

Her grin should’ve made you suspicious. But instead, it was already forgotten by the next morning.

–

"Jane!" Your voice was far too loud considering she was sitting barely a meter away.

"Hm?" Jane looked up from her book, confused, maybe a little worried. You weren’t paying enough attention right not to get a good read on her expression.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Even after reading the text for the third time, you wanted to pinch yourself. Hard. This had to be a strange dream.

The words blinking up at you from the screen seemed unbelievable.

"Did you- Did you submit my application with- to the- the Carolina Hurricanes?!"

Jane seemed to process your words in her head. Then understanding began to spread across her face.

Your mouth kept opening and closing, but no words came out. You didn't even know what you would have, should’ve, said. What was a normal response in this situation?

Jane straightened up a little and leaned toward you. She was looking over your shoulder at the laptop.

"Oh, they were faster than I expected."

"How... What..."

Sure, you'd complained to her just the other day that the youth team you'd applied to had suddenly realized they didn't have the budget for a full-time position after all. The interview at the equipment store on the other side of town left a lot to be desired after their first question was how much overtime you could put in per month.

But this? You’d never have expected that.

"Are you crazy?" Your voice was still unexpectedly shrill.

“It’s not a rejection letter”, she sounded a little too proud for your liking.

You squinted your eyes at her.

“Then I would’ve killed you. After burying myself out of embarrassment.”

"Oh, come on. You have to admit, it sounds perfect for you," Jane simply shrugged her shoulders. Leaning back again, she looked a lot calmer than you felt.

Nevertheless, you did have to admit that it sounded almost perfect. Often you had helped out with the equipment in small teams in the past and had always enjoyed the work. It was close to the action without being in the foreground.

But still.

"I can't believe you." You slumped back against the couch and ran your fingers through your hair. "This is crazy. You’re crazy..."

Jane sighed. "Hey, if you're not interested, don't answer." Then she turned back to her book.

She made it sound so easy.

"I didn't say that!" you defended yourself immediately.

Jane snorted, then at least a brief twitch of the corner of her mouth.

–

Your hands were shaking as you pushed open the nondescript door. It had all happened so fast.

Someone had called you the very next morning.

It was all so unbelievable that you could barely remember the phone call.

"It's a temporary position, but it needs to be filled quickly," the man on the phone had said, that much you could recall - immediately followed by the question of when you could start.

Apparently, someone had gotten sick after they were already understaffed and so they urgently needed someone to fill in.

Your experience at the small hockey center in your hometown had probably paid off after all. While growing up you had helped the coach, who trained the children’s hobby group, with the equipment.

In return, he always gave you old skates and sticks that were once forgotten by someone and never got picked up so you could try them out during your own team’s training.

Maybe they also decided on you because they just didn’t have many applicants with previous experience of any level available at such short notice. But who knew. And really, you didn’t really care either way.

Especially as just a few hours after the call you were now following hurriedly written down directions through the corridors of the arena that you had previously only seen as a visitor.

Anthony, whose first words had been "Call me Tony", had been awaiting you already. His tour of the most important rooms was not only packed with way too much information but also constantly interrupted by other people’s questions and demands.

Nevertheless, Tony remained friendly and patient with them as well as you, even when you had forgotten which direction you had come from for the third time in a row. Once or twice, he might even have stifled an amused grin.

"Let me just show you the storage rooms and then..."

"Anthony," an older man interrupted from the side. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a grim expression on his face.

An official-looking ID was hanging around his neck.

Tony grimaced at the use of his full name.

"What is it now?" he asked, barely able to hide his annoyed voice under a wavering polite smile. It was the first time you'd seen Tony anything other than friendly today. It was almost weird.

The man didn't really look at Tony, but rather past him, even though the words were clearly directed at Tony. "The sticks are all mixed up." The accusatory tone in his voice was clear, as if Tony had personally caused the mess.

"We don't know what belongs to whom."

Tony sighed. "Of course, you don't", he muttered so quietly that only you could hear the words. However, the other man would have been able to see the hint of an eye roll hadn’t he turned away again, apparently to grumble at the next person.

"Don't let Mike intimidate you," Tony explained, turning back to you, "in case he ever snaps at you. He likes to feel more important than he is." He rolled his eyes with a wry grin.

Someone hesitantly tapped Tony’s shoulder. This time a young man, who looked like he'd just graduated high school.

"Sorry, I know you're busy - I don't mean to interrupt - but, uh, a strap on a goalie pad broke."

Anthony ran a hand over his forehead. "Another one? Shit." He exhaled noisily. "That's the third one in two days. It has to be a production error. Has the manufacturer responded to the complaint yet?"

The boy's eyes widened, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Mike called impatiently for Anthony from the next room. Torn, he turned briefly at the voice, then looked back at the boy next to him. "They probably need the goalies for training right now?"

The boy nodded shyly: "They said it was urgent."

Anthony sighed again.

Then he looked at you with a wry grin: "Looks like you'll get something to do sooner than expected."

He got handed a paper from someone walking past him. While searching for something on it he continued talking.

"We only have a few pads left in stock. The new order hasn't arrived yet and we need the ones we still have for the game tonight. Do you know how to sew?" He looked up.

"A little?" Your grandparents had taught you a long time ago, but it wasn't something you had to do regularly in your daily life.

"Great, that should be enough for now. It doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it does the job."

Anthony patted you on the back approvingly. Then he left you standing alone in the hallway, his exit accompanied by another long "Anthony" yell.

You were left standing there. Uncertainly you looked at the young man next to you.

He shrugged his shoulders just as unsure. He murmured quietly: "In that room over there." With a finger, he pointed at a door.

Well, then you should probably get to work. 'That room over there' really wasn't hard to find. It was only a few meters away.

What you didn't expect, however, was to almost walk into a huge man as soon as you entered the room. You always knew that hockey players tended to be quite tall, but it still took you by surprise.

You had to tilt your head back to look the man in the face. Of course, having lived here long enough you knew all the players on the team, at least by name. You weren't some crazy fan but at least invested enough to watch the games whenever you had the time. For your last birthday you had even gotten tickets to watch one live in the arena. It had been great.

Now you were faced with a certain goalie. Stubborn ginger strands fell into his face, his cheeks slightly flushed from training or the cold. Television did not do him justice at all.

Stay professional, you had to order yourself. This was your job. You couldn't mess it up, especially not on the first day.

Frederik looked up. He ran his eyes over your form for a moment. Then he tilted his head. "You're not Tony," his voice sounded unexpectedly soft.

"Oh, uh, no. I'm new here. First day today." Wow, very smooth. Good job.

If Freddie thought the same, he didn't let on. Quite the opposite. He openly watched you, his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "Well, in that case. Welcome."

You mumbled a "Thank you."

A brief silence filled the room. While you reminded yourself to get yourself under control, you could still feel his appraising gaze on you - not hostile, just curious.

"How do you like it so far?" You could see little lines forming around his eyes as he smiled at you.

"I mean, a map would be helpful. All these corridors are like a labyrinth," you tried to joke.

Freddie laughed. "Oh yeah. You don't want to know how many times I got lost in here at first."

Maybe he was just saying that to make you feel better. However, you decide not to question it and just let the words calm you down a little.

"Are you almost done?" a woman poked her head into the room. Her stern features were emphasized by her narrow glasses. She reminded you of a strict principal scowling at running students.

You were almost certain you'd seen her in the corridors earlier today. Maybe Tony had told you her name and position, but if so, you'd already forgotten again. For the first dozen names you had made an honest effort to memorize them. The numerous ones following after that were buried in the sea of information that had poured in on you in a very short space of time.

"Oh yes, almost done," you grinned at the woman as convincingly as possible.

With a skeptical look, she let her eyes wander back and forth between Freddie, you and finally the pad, still hanging down loosely on his leg.

"Hurry up”, she ordered. You nodded dutifully.

When she had disappeared again, you breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes had literally bored right through you and left you feeling a little uncomfortable. Freddie had squirmed under her eyes just as much.

You didn’t want to risk her turning up here again.

"I think I'll go and get some stuff. To fix that."

Freddie nodded patiently.

Huh.

Well. There was just one problem.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they store needles around here, would you?"

Again, the corners of his mouth pulled to the side in amusement. "Aren't you the one working here?" He was obviously just teasing you, but your cheeks immediately felt a little warmer, nevertheless.

"Right."

In the end, Freddie did help by searching through the drawers in the small cupboard behind him while you examined the rest of the room.

Once needle and thread were found, the work was done quickly. The strap was tight again. It should hold on for the next few hours at least. The stern-looking woman had walked past the room a few more times – more than necessary in your opinion – as you had noticed out of the corner of your eye. However, she had not re-entered the room.

Freddie and you had had some simple conversations on the side so the work had gone by quickly. He had asked your name and where you came from.

All in all, your first job could have gone a lot worse. You were almost a little proud of yourself.

Maybe this was all quite doable after all.

It was terrible.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd walked so much, feeling your feet ache with every more step you took. By the time just half of your shift had been over, your legs were already heavy.

Once the game had started, the processes seemed a lot more structured.

The rather hectic running around of the afternoon was replaced by a lot of counting and carrying things from one place to another.

With all the work, you almost missed the end of the game completely.

However, the disappointment was hard to miss. It put deep creases in everyone’s faces; reflected in the way shoulders slumped and voices were muffled.

Losing again after a long winning streak probably always hit everyone hard.

Tony and you got handed the equipment to be washed and dried.

At least one thing hadn't changed though. All sorts of people still wanted something from Tony. He had mumbled to you "I'll be back in a moment", only to definitely not come back after a moment.

Afraid of getting lost for good, you decided to wait here for him anyway.

Everyone around you seemed to have clear tasks that they were silently following. It was almost strange to see the corridors so quiet, in contrast to a few hours earlier.

No matter where you stood, you had the feeling that you were interfering with the routines of other workers and so you gradually ended up further and further to the end of the narrow hallway. Not knowing exactly where you were was nothing new today. However, this time you were pretty sure this corner hadn’t been in Tony’s tour.

One by one, players came around a corner. They walked past you individually or in small groups. Very few of them probably really noticed you. Their mood was also noticeably subdued.

You weren't entirely sure whether you were happy to see Freddie again as he slowly stepped around the corner, or whether you would’ve preferred not to see the disappointed look on his face.

You gave him what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

For a brief moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, a hint of a crooked grin as he had almost passed you, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again.

He exhaled forcefully. The heaviness in his eyes returned.

With a long breath, you watched his slowly shrinking figure.

No longer could you stand being in the hallway. You had seen enough disappointed faces for one day. A door caught your eye. It was held open by a chair jammed into the doorway. The cool light falling through the opening was brighter than the ceiling lights.

You dared to take one last look over your shoulder, Freddie had already disappeared from your view. And there was still no sign of Tony. So, you crossed the corridor with slow steps.

The door led directly to the spectator stands. It had apparently been opened after everyone had left the arena.

You let yourself fall against the door frame.

After a quick glance over the seating area, your gaze fell onto the ice surface. Your heart ached in your chest. Before, you hadn't realized how much you missed being on the ice yourself - or you had successfully pushed it to the back of your mind. Only now, when you were so close to it, did the longing come back to you in full force.

"Do you have skates?" The voice so close to your ear made you jump. Lost deep in thought you hadn’t noticed when Tony had appeared next to you.

"What?"

"Do you have skates," he repeated more slowly, "I have to be honest. I'd be a bit disappointed if I had to find out like this that you don't own any." He flashed an amused grin at you.

You frowned. "Yes, of course. I mean, I have relatives in Canada. They'd probably disown me if I didn't."

"Then what's stopping you from taking a few laps on the ice?"

He shrugged as if it were that simple. It couldn't be that simple.

"What? But no, I can't do that..." You found it difficult to find the right words. You didn't even know what you were trying to say yourself.

"The way you look at the ice longingly, it'll melt away otherwise," Tony teased.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "No, but really. Is that allowed?"

"Yep," Tony pointed over his shoulder. "Back there on the list are the times when the ice is free. As long as you don't mind the ice not being fresh, of course."

You could hardly believe what Tony was telling you. There was actually a possibility that you could skate on the ice? It’d been so long since you had skates on your feet. It’s been even longer since you’d last held a hockey stick.

When you thought about what it would be like to practice again after so long, a yearning overcame you.

"Nobody else usually uses it on Mondays and Wednesdays." Tony gave you a significant look.

The ice had obviously been heavily used. It couldn't have bothered you less.

The first step on the ice was shakier than you expected. And it still felt so relieving. Like rediscovering one of your favorite childhood sweets years later. Or finding change in your pockets that you’d already forgotten about.

Your face beamed with joy, becoming more relaxed with every step. After two laps around the arena, it felt as familiar as before. Your chest rose and fell at a fast pace.

Even after another ten minutes, you were still alone on the ice. When Tony had said no one else usually used the free ice time on Mondays, he hadn't been exaggerating.

You were still a little unsure before, but now you took the stick you had brought with you and a few pucks that were still in a bucket on the side from the last training session.

The last time you’d played hockey was even longer ago than the last time you’d skated. So, it wasn't surprising that you missed the net a lot the first few tries. The times you did hit the goal, however, felt all the better.

The skillful shots from your youth, when you still had time to go to training regularly, no longer worked nearly as well. In the past, you could’ve done them blindfolded.

Adult responsibilities however got in the way at some point, so you were glad that you were still able to attend a hobby group at least once a month until last year. And it paid off. After a short time, the stick no longer felt so strange in your hand. Maybe Hockey was a bit like riding a bike. You would never quite forget how to do it.

You almost missed the other person coming onto the ice.

Even without his number on his back, you could’ve identified him without a doubt. To be fair, there probably weren't that many people walking around in professional goalie gear. Especially those with access to the ice and a Canes logo on their chest.

Without a doubt: Frederik Andersen had just stepped onto the ice. The exact ice you were standing on.

Uncertain you looked back and forth between the exit and him. You were sure you hadn't misread the time on the list. The clock on the wall also told you that you hadn't just been here much longer than you thought.

Still, should you leave the ice? If he was here, he probably wanted to practice. You'd just get in the way.

After the game on your first day on the job, the Canes lost two more games. And as always happens, critical voices immediately got loud on the internet. Even if you hadn't looked any further, you could imagine what they said about Freddie – hopefully, he followed the media team's advice not to read any of it.

Freddie looked at you for a moment. Then he crossed the ice. However, instead of heading for the other half of the ice as you’d have expected, his path led straight into the net on your side.

Fascinated, you watched as he stretched and moved in quick order. Finally, he straightened up again, leaned forward and tapped the ice several times with his stick.

You looked at him in confusion. But when he then flicked a puck across the rink towards you with his stick, it was a more than clear invitation.

In this moment you were so glad to have had some time to warm up before he arrived.

Your first shots at the net were careful. And apparently, they were way too predictable and easy for Freddie, as he blocked each of them with ease. He didn't even look strained in the slightest.

You took it as a challenge.

The next shots were more confident. You even started to skate a few steps towards the net on each of them, instead of standing rigidly in the middle of the ice.

However, after a lost puck on the way to the net elicited a playfully disappointed shake of the head from Freddie, you made it your mission to mix in a particularly bad shot every few tries. Freddie’s reaction made it more than worth it.

If you looked very closely, you imagined you could even see the smirk under his mask every time.

In the end, you didn't know how long you’d played for.

When Freddie pushed his mask up, a few strands of hair were sticking to his forehead. His features were more relaxed than any of the last times you'd seen him here. It looked good on him.

As you went your separate ways again, he gently nudged you with his shoulder. The smile lingered on your lips for a long time.

–

"Do you think the small suitcase will be enough for three days?"

Jane looked at you over her shoulder. "Are you going on a trip? Without me?" She clutched her chest dramatically.

"There are a few away games coming up. And I'm supposed to come with them”, you explained. Your nerves must be written all over your face.

"Not that I think I'm really going to be that much help.", you added.

You had only just started to feel like you were slowly getting used to the work in the arena. By now, you could count on one hand how many times you got lost in the seemingly never-ending hallways of the arena in a shift. Even all the tasks no longer appeared as overwhelming as they did at the beginning.

Still, it had taken you days to even come close to finding your way around the arena. Even now, you kept discovering new rooms that you had never seen before.

Now, arriving in a completely foreign arena? You'd never seen how away games were run behind the scenes. And now you were supposed to help out yourself. Over the last days carefully established routines to make work easier would have to be broken again.

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot that you're super important now," she teased.

As if. "Hardly. More like the assistant to the assistant."

As you turned back to your bedroom, Jane called after you: "I’m sure it won't be as bad as you think."

Packing took longer than expected. This was probably partly due to the fact that you kept placing stuff in your suitcase just to take it out again minutes later. Should you pack a fifth sweater after all? Would one spare pair of pants be enough or maybe take the black ones with you as well?

By the time you had loaded your bags into your car, you were on the verge of being late. Enough time for you to arrive on time, not enough to get stuck in traffic or spend ages looking for a parking space.

However, you didn’t even get that far.

Your car made a tired stuttering noise before it fell silent again. The same sound was heard on the second attempt. By the third turn of the key, your fingers were already getting clammy.

"Damn it. That can't be true now." Try again. This time the engine only made a muffled scraping sound. "No, no, no!"

You dropped your head against the steering wheel. Frustration rose up inside you.

Another sharp turn. Your hand clutched the armrest. You preferred not to look too closely at the speed limit. Jane ignored your pointed glances toward her anyway - and today, at least, you were almost glad of her habit of speeding.

The bags on the back seat were a heavy reminder in the corner of your eye.

You almost felt like you were back in your teenage years, being driven around by your parents and older friends. Then the airport finally came into view.

Jane parked and let you out. A car honked behind you. Quickly you thanked her and got out of the car.

You didn't know how, but you were still on time.

–

After the flight, it was a blessing to arrive at the hotel room.

The room was small, had a strange orange wall color and a dubious stain on the floor that you strictly avoided stepping on. But at least you had the room to yourself. Reason enough to breathe a sigh of relief.

In the evening, you fell into bed early, exhausted from the day. Sending a photo of your room to Jane would have to wait until tomorrow.

The next morning, you were awake long before your alarm clock. You didn't know who exactly was in the room next to you, but whoever it was had started snoring loudly at some point.

Even after a while, you couldn't fall back asleep. You were slow to pull yourself out of the warmth of your bed, but happy to escape the constant noise. So, you got ready for the day.

When you arrived in the breakfast room with a sectioned-off area for the team and players, the buffet had only just been opened. Apart from you, there was only one other person here so far, who ignored you as politely as you ignored them.

Most people would probably eat later. The game wasn't until late afternoon, so there was no rush to prepare, and morning skate wasn't scheduled for a few hours, as you’d heard.

With a full plate, you sat down at one of the many empty tables. While you ate, you checked your messages.

Jane had texted you last night to tell you that she’d taken your car to the mechanic. Already, they had sent you an email with a list of what needed to be repaired. Your hope that it would only be just a minor repair instantly vanished as you saw the length of the list.

You gulped a second time at the amount at the bottom of the mail.

Shit. That would easily consume an entire month's salary. You dropped your forehead to your hands.

"Does breakfast in general make you unhappy or is it this one in particular?" The chair next to you was pulled back. A certain ginger goalie fell into the seat.

You couldn't suppress a faint snort.

"I wouldn't count my car as breakfast," you tried to joke. Just the thought of your car made you grimace again.

"Oh," his brow furrowed gently. "That doesn't sound good?"

"Yeah. I mean, it has made a weird noise for a while now, should’ve known something like this would happen eventually. I just hoped to have a little more time before having to get it repaired."

Groaning you let your head fall into your hands again. Freddie shook his head, an amused glint in his eyes.

Then he seemed to have another thought.

“Wait, so how did you get to the airport?”

“Oh, I had someone drive me.” You turned your head to look at him.

“Boyfriend?" Maybe it was just hopeful wishing, the way Freddie's eyebrows drew down a touch further. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business.”

"My roommate, Jane." After short consideration, you also added: “Don’t think my ex would’ve even bothered to drive me.” You couldn't see Freddie’s face at that moment as your eyes were drawn to a new incoming message. Just Jane complaining about the weather.

“That sounds like there’s a story.”

You snorted. “Not a good one.”

Freddie seemed to get the drift. He did however furrow his brows slightly and asked slowly: "Wait, how are you getting home then?"

You could almost have sworn that Freddie was sitting closer than at the beginning.

To be honest, you hadn't really thought about it yourself. "Probably an Uber or...?" you mumbled but didn't finish the thought.

Someone from the marketing team - Angela? Angelica? Angeline? - sat down on a chair opposite you.

The conversation was paused for now. Instead, the blonde woman chattered away happily as you just nodded at the appropriate times.

You hadn't noticed when the room had started to become so crowded.

–

When they’d said: "I have an exciting task for you today", you hadn't thought that cleaning helmets would be a big part of it.

Being allowed to take on more tasks on your own was wonderful. And you were grateful.

There were various parts on a few of the helmets that needed to be replaced or checked. By itself a nice and relaxing work. However, having to polish helmets had always been very low on your list of favorite activities. And today you had to clean every single one after the repairs.

One by one, some players arrived to collect their helmets for training themselves. Others were picked up and taken away by staff on their way past. By the time the last helmet was shiningly clean, there were only three left on the table next to you, waiting to be picked up.

And, well, one of them was a beautifully painted goalie mask of a very specific goalie.

Another player came to collect his helmet. You immediately suppressed the disappointment that welled up in your stomach when you realized who was coming through the door. Or rather, the disappointment at who it wasn't.

He was friendly, exchanged a few brief words with you and finally thanked you before disappearing again.

And then, Freddie came into the room. You almost missed it over your struggle of trying to get a new rag from the top shelf.

“Let me help you”, the deep voice from behind surprised you.

He probably could’ve stepped around you and still reached the pile of rags easily enough. However, Freddie appeared behind you, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat coming from his body.

Even after grabbing the desired item, he didn’t step back a whole lot, stayed close. If you would’ve wanted to you could’ve taken a step to the side. There was more than enough space and even if there wasn’t you knew Freddie would’ve moved immediately and apologized if you’d asked. But you didn’t.

You stayed exactly where you were.

The air between you felt almost charged. You wanted to see what Freddie’d do. You didn’t get the chance to.

The moment was over as quickly as it had come when the door was pushed open. You both jumped.

Until now you’d only seen Seth Jarvis occasionally from a distance in the hallways. Apart from that, you haven't had much to do with him yet.

The first thing you noticed about him today was that he was already holding his helmet in his hands. It was hanging over two fingers as if he had forgotten he even had it. You dimly remembered giving it to one of the employees not long ago.

You looked down at him once with furrowed brows. The rest of his equipment looked complete too and in working order.

Freddie huffed.

Seth's gaze flitted back and forth between him and you. A far too pleased grin began to grow on his face.

For a few seconds, his gaze stayed wandering between you two.

Finally, you broke the silence when it didn’t seem as if he intended to say anything.

"Is there… A problem with your helmet?"

Seth blinked at you. Then he followed your gaze down to his hands.

He shook his head, almost confused by your question. "No, everything's fine."

Okay? Then he probably hadn’t returned for that.

"Then... Anything else I can help you with?" you continued to ask.

He looked down at himself once more and seemed to think for a moment. Freddie started to speak, a meaningful glint in his eyes: "I'm sure it isn't-"

Somehow that just made Seth’s mischievous grin reappear.

He interrupted Freddie: "Hm, I don't know," he thought slowly, "My shin pad has been kind of weird these last few days and…"

Freddie scowled at him. But Seth didn't let it bother him at all. On the contrary, his grin widened a little more.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. There seemed to be some kind of silent communication between the two.

Finally, Seth concluded: "But it's not really that bad.”

So, you were back to square one.

"Then, anything else I can help you with?"

Seth’s answer came too quickly: "I guess I forgot why I came here. Can’t have been that important."

Turning around, however, took him longer than it should have, and you were pretty sure he did it on purpose. At the door, he threw another grinning look back.

Finally, you two were alone again.

You continued blinking at the door. What was that?

"I should probably see what he's up to," Freddie sighed but offered no other explanation. Nevertheless, he made no effort to leave.

Instead, almost absentmindedly he traced an invisible line in the table.

It took you a moment to notice - he lingered.

You didn't know what to do with the realization. Staring at Freddie the whole time only made you feel stranger. Whatever this conversation just was already left you almost dazed, so you picked up the last remaining helmet beside Freddie’s mask again.

You already knew it was spotless. Not for nothing had you spent so much time cleaning it earlier.

Just to have something to do, you picked up another cloth and set to work again.

Freddie watched you silently. There was something comfortable, almost familiar about sharing the silence.

When the last helmet was finally picked up by another employee, it was the signal for Freddie to leave.

You handed him his mask as well. Your fingers touched too long to be just a coincidence. It made your heart beat loudly in your chest.

For a moment you hesitated. Then you raised an arm briefly to his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. "Good luck!"

Before you had a chance to regret your decision, you went back to your work.

–

The high spirits of some of the players you spotted hours later in the hallways told you how the game had turned out, even though you’d been too busy to watch.

You didn't think Freddie would send you more than a quick smile as he walked down the corridor. Two others caught up with him. One of them, easily recognized as Seth Jarvis, and one of the rookies. Seth said something to Freddie, then pushed him to the side straight at you, laughing with one hand behind his back.

With a slight color in his cheeks, no doubt still from the game, he took a few steps towards you. Smiling, he raised an arm. He waited a moment, as if offering you a way out. Instead, you gladly took a small step in his direction.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders. You were pressed firmly against Freddie, who murmured a quiet thank you against your hair. Then, he let go of you all too quickly.

What exactly he was thanking you for you didn’t know. You also didn’t get the chance to ask.

As they passed you, the other two players behind Freddie greeted you cheerfully. You didn't even know other players knew your name. Seth looked almost as amused as earlier today.

–

By the last day of the road trip, you could no longer stand being in your room. Something about the specific shade of the wall color made your skin itch if you looked at it for too long.

It was unexpected how much you missed home. Even after just those few days in hotel rooms.

Maybe it was having to live out of a suitcase because it wasn't worth putting your things in the closet when you might be traveling to the next city that same night or the next morning. Or maybe it was the way you were constantly surrounded by the general working atmosphere.

You couldn't put your finger on it. What you could say, however, was that you couldn't wait to get home.

Just one last game.

After dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to go back to your room. Instead, you explored the common room reserved for the team and staff.

Through the window, you could see some players playing with a ball in the backyard below. At a table in the corner, various people were playing a card game you had never heard of.

In a quiet area, you settled down with a book.

Everything was ideal for reading. It was quiet enough; the sofa was comfortable and you were wearing one of your coziest sweaters.

Still, you couldn’t concentrate on your book. Your thoughts wouldn’t calm down, leaving you feeling restless. Every few minutes you shifted in your seat.

You would have liked to fast-forward the day so that it would finally be evening, and you could go home. If it was up to you, you would have already been on a plane.

Every time someone walked past or entered the room, you unconsciously raised your eyes. And every time, you were annoyed that you had lost the line in your book again. Not that you could remember much of the story anyway. Your attention wasn't quite there.

However, it also meant you noticed when Freddie entered the room.

He stopped several times to talk to people. When he was only a few steps away from the sofas, he looked back and forth between them.

Before you could think about it too long, you slid a little to the side, as if an invitation. There was more than enough space next to you for him to sit down without you touching. However, you left the final decision to him.

You didn't have to wait long. Freddie plopped down on the couch - just a touch closer than usual, but still far enough away that you almost questioned if you were just imagining it. Not that you were complaining.

He opened the book he'd been holding under his arm.

Not exactly subtle, he kept watching you out of the corner of his eye. As soon as you lifted your head, however, he immediately averted his gaze.

Actually, you didn't want to ask. You weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer. What if it was a problem just you had. But still.

After another moment of thought you blurted: "Do you ever get tired of away games?"

"Huh?" He looked up, apparently not having anticipated such a question.

Well, there was no turning back now anyway.

"Like, traveling around all the time, being away from home so much?" you tried to explain.

His answer came easily. "Oh, absolutely. I used to hate it so much. Now it’s not as bad anymore. I mean, some days I would still be rather at but, ehn." He shrugged his shoulders.

Only after a moment did you ask further, having the feeling he wasn't going to add anything more.

"Used to? What changed?"

"Mainly the team. Getting to know the people you spend the days with has been incredibly helpful. It feels less like a business trip and more like… Like a school trip when you were younger." For a moment he got a far-away look in his eyes as if lost in thought.

Your gaze glided across the room. ‘Business trip’ summed up pretty well how it felt to you. Even though you've had superficial conversations with a lot of people, you probably didn't know any of them nearly well enough to put them anywhere near the friends category.

But of course, you’d also noticed how many of the others were always planning activities in groups or just talking and joking over the meals.

You exhaled briefly.

Freddie watched you for a moment. He tilted his head, then continued slowly. His words seemed measured: “You know, the first road trip after my trade here was particularly hard."

You hadn't even thought about that. Your stomach tightened at the thought of how Freddie must have felt.

"Of course, at most everything is the same, but it still feels so- so unfamiliar. You don't know who's sitting next to whom on the plane. You don't know who's a good roommate and who might snore loudly or leave their things everywhere. And all these little rituals and changes that might not even exist at home games."

"But it got better?" You looked at the hands in your lap.

"It really does. The first few times the unfamiliarity, it's so exhausting. But with each more trip, it becomes more and more of a habit."

After a beat of silence, Freddie added slowly: "I don't want to lie to you. Sometimes I'd still rather stay at home. Home games are definitely more enjoyable, as far as that goes. But they're exceptions, just like everyone has bad days."

Encouragingly, he gently pressed his shoulder against yours. The brief touch turned into a long moment, somehow your whole sides touching. Your arm rested against his, your legs just a few inches away.

After a few moments, when he still hadn't slipped away again, you let yourself relax against him. Gradually you could feel Freddie’s muscles losing their tension as well.

"What about Denmark? Do you ever miss being there?" you asked into the silence between you. Freddie looked out of the window.

"When I was younger, I missed it a lot more than I do now. I haven't lived there for so long now that I hardly know any different."

Your eyebrows drew together. You didn't know whether the statement reassured you or whether it made you want to give Freddie a long hug. Somehow it sounded so sad.

"I can still visit it regularly. And it's not as if my family would ever let me forget the language." He pointed to the book next to him.

You hadn't looked at it closely before. But now you noticed that the title consisted of large - obviously Danish - words.

"Just sometimes..." he shrugged his shoulders unsure. Then he picked up his book again with a sigh.

This effectively ended the conversation. You wanted to ask more, but the far-away look in Freddie’s eyes stopped you. Now you felt bad. Making Freddie sad hadn’t been your intention.

As if he could read your mind, he knocked his elbow against yours gently. You took a deep breath. Returning the gesture, you began reading again as well.

While your earlier worries had calmed down for the time being, now, with every breath you took, you were made aware of how close you and Freddie were sitting to each other.

You didn't want to have to get up again.

–

The flight home was uneventful. A general tiredness hung over everyone.

You yawned again as you finally stepped outside into the cool night air.

The tiredness made you inattentive and you flinched when someone unexpectedly appeared next to you.

By now you didn't even need to look at him to recognize Freddie. Just his stature and the hint of ginger hair were enough.

He casually reached for your bag and took it from your hand.

Baffled, you almost stumbled over your feet, looking up at him.

"That's my bag."

"Yep," he said with a grin. He had slowed down to give you a chance to catch up. "At least I hope it’s yours and not some random one you just took."

You rolled your eyes. “Then what are you doing with it? Now that we've established that it is my bag."

"I'm giving you a ride." He stated casually, then started walking again.

If you hadn't been so exhausted, you would have at least tried to protest out of politeness.

Nevertheless, you couldn't help but at least tease tiredly: "Maybe I've got another ride by now."

"Is that why you have the Uber app open?"

You looked down at the phone in your hands. Huh, you couldn't say anything against that.

Freddie became serious for a moment. "Hey, if you really don't want to, I'm happy to just wait here with you until your Uber arrives. But the offer stands."

"You really don't have to," spoke the good manners out of you. Your parents would have been proud. Even to your ears, however, it sounded very half-hearted.

Freddie stopped. You almost ran into him. Since you managed to stop just in time, you were now standing right in front of each other instead. If you had leaned forward just a little, you would have been touching.

For a long moment, Freddie held your gaze. "I know I don't have to. But I want to." The sincerity in his words made you swallow. For a few seconds, you stood in front of each other, looking at each other. You could have sworn Freddie's eyes flickered down your face for a moment.

But then he just cleared his throat and started walking again. You ignored the small spark of disappointment in your stomach.

You were sure that Freddie purposely made himself taller as he looked down at you and joked: "And no offense to you, but you're really not big enough to be threatening."

"Hey! I can be scary if I want to be."

"Uh-uh. Whatever you say."

You stuck your tongue out at him, even if he couldn't see it, as he opened the trunk.

For some reason, you had expected the car ride with Freddie to be awkward. Instead, comfortable silence spread between you. After you had told him your address, he navigated the car slowly through the dark streets.

You watched the streetlights pass by the windshield for a while.

"So, do you give all the poor stranded newbies a ride?" It could be taken as a simple joke. You tried to keep your voice carefully neutral. Still, the mood in the car shifted. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather more serious than before. It felt important.

"Would you believe me if I said I was just being helpful?" Freddie didn't even sound like he believed the reason himself. It wasn't a straight answer, but it wasn't an immediate deflection either. You could just accept this as the answer and move on, just, you didn’t want that anymore.

"Normally? Yes. But when you say it like that? Not really”, you still kept the tone light.

"Yeah... My sister is the only one in our family who is a good liar. As a teenager, I always envied her for that. She could outsmart our mother every time."

A small smile graced your lips at the story. You could literally see it in front of you, a young Freddie stammering as he tried to come up with a story about why he was home late.

Freddie parked the car in front of your house. He continued to look straight ahead. In the dim light, you couldn’t be sure, but you could have sworn his ears were turning red.

"I mean, it really wasn't a big deal. And you're not the worst company either."

"Such a high compliment," you grinned, "Not the worst company."

Maybe his cheeks had gained a little color too.

"But really, thank you, for the ride. It probably wasn’t on your way."

"It was nothing, really. And maybe it was also a little selfish." He said it into the quiet of the night as if it were a precious secret. He turned his head towards you and looked straight at you. There was warmth in his gaze, perhaps a spark of hope.

"I like- I like spending time with you."

You couldn't help but smile at the words. Freddie smiled back.

Very slowly, one of his hands moved towards your face, as if he was giving you time to object. You immediately leaned into the touch as he cupped your cheek.

He stroked the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. One of your hands rested on his forearm.

"Good thing I like spending time with you too," you whispered softly.

Afterward, you couldn't remember who moved first. Freddie's face came closer towards yours. Your free hand buried itself in his shirt, the other one letting go to run through his hair.

As soon as your lips met, time seemed to stand still for a moment. You forgot all your previous thoughts. The only thing existing was the feeling of his lips pressing gently against yours.

Soon, the sweet kiss turned deeper. The angle wasn’t great, but you made it work.

When you finally broke away from each other, you didn’t move far. Your forehead rested against his, you could feel his breath against your lips.

A small giggle escaped you. Your eyes met. It made Freddie’s smile widen, before his hand slid into your neck to pull your lips to his once again.

–

It was pure coincidence that you had packed your skates.

After a morning of unpacking deliveries and doing inventory, you were ready to just go home and curl up on your couch. Only Sarah, with whom you had shared the work, had made it more bearable. Before, you had only known her by sight. Now you couldn't remember the last time you had made friends with a colleague so fast.

She was also the first who saw the note on your locker. With a raised eyebrow, she watched as you read it. Your expression had apparently told her enough because she didn't question your decision to stay in the arena and instead said goodbye with a wink.

The note was pretty inconspicuous.

'Meet me on the ice?’

It was the thought of who the message was probably from that made your heart skip a beat.

When you stepped onto the ice this time, Freddie was already skating slow circles across the rink. You were delighted to realize that you could be faster than him in full gear and after several hours of training.

It was a moment of being inattentive – and maybe also you getting tired after a few laps – that he took advantage of. With a gentle push, cushioned on all sides by his pads, he pushed you against the glass.

With your back against the glass and his arms on either side of you, you stopped.

"Hi." You grinned up into his face. Through the mask, he grinned back just as widely.

"Hi."

"What a coincidence to see you here."

"What, were you expecting someone else, skat?" The way Freddie emphasized the last word told you he knew exactly what that would do to you. Your heart melted.

"Writing notes. Pet names. Is this becoming some high school romance novel?"

"I don't even know what you mean, elskling." You could hear the amusement in his voice. Before you had a chance to answer, Freddie had already pushed himself away.

He positioned himself in the net and leaned down. It didn't take you that long to get used to shooting again.

–

With your skates in hand and a pleasant exhaustion making your legs heavy, all you wanted to do was grab your stuff and finally head back to your apartment.

As you turned the corner, you almost ran into someone. You only just managed to stop in time.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you to still be here. Didn’t you finish several hours ago?" Tony looked down at you. In one arm he carried a pile of sticks, in the other a large folder overflowing with notes.

"But, oh wait, it's actually good that you're here."

The next words made your heart stop for a moment.

"I just need to talk to you for a minute."

When had that sentence ever been followed by something good?

You couldn't say for sure how long Tony had been standing here. Maybe he had just seen you with Freddie. Before that, you hadn't even thought about whether that was allowed. What if both you and Freddie got into trouble for it?

Or even worse. What if he found out about you and Freddie off the ice? You had only briefly skimmed the contract when you’d signed. You had been far too fascinated by this world, which was secret to every normal fan, to care about that stuff. Not that you’d even expected something like this to happen.

Now you were desperately trying to remember if there was a paragraph about whether relationships with players were allowed at all.

"I won't keep you long," Tony finally snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Brynn - that was the one who was ill. You were his replacement, I don't know if you ever heard his name." You couldn't remember it, but you'd been told so much in the first few days that you could very well have just forgotten it again.

"Anyway. Brynn will be back tomorrow," Tony's face stiffened, "So technically, we don't need any extra help anymore."

"Oh." Of all the fears that had been running through your mind, that hadn't been a scenario you’d considered. You had known from the start that it would only be a short-term job. But you’d have never expected it to be this short.

Tony smiled somberly. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think it would be so quick."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's great for Brynn." You weren’t lying. Obviously, it was good to hear, that he was healthy again. But at the same time, knowing you’d lose your job made your heart ache. Even in the short time, you’d grown to love it.

"Yeah," Tony nodded a little absently. He looked conflicted. "Okay, so. Technically I'm not supposed to say anything yet, but... my boss is retiring in the next few weeks. His replacement should be decided by the end of the week. We've had a few conversations and let's just say... I feel like I've got a pretty good chance of getting the role."

"That's really great for you?" you said slowly. Not that you weren't happy for Tony, but your enthusiasm was limited after you'd practically been fired just a minute before.

"That means there's a job opening to be filled." He looked at you meaningfully.

It took you a moment to finally understand. "Oooh."

"Yeah," he nodded, now with a hint of a grin on his lips. "I could put in a good word."

"Really?"

Tony nodded. You had to suppress a loud cheer.

–

It was a strange feeling. Last away games you’d wished so desperately to be home again. This time you wished you could join. Having to sit at home and having to say goodbye to Freddie sounded almost worse.

"I'm going to miss you for the next few days."

Freddie came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you let yourself fall against him.

He looked at you questioningly over your shoulder. "You're not coming?"

Then it seemed to come back to him too. "Oh, right."

It had taken you almost two days to tell him about the conversation with Tony. You were unsure how to. Plus, an annoying voice in the back of your head that would convince you that Freddie wouldn't care at all.

In the end, you blurted it out one afternoon. In your head, you stuck your tongue out at the nasty voice when Freddie immediately took you in his arms and asked how you were doing.

Even now, he gave you another apologetic hug.

Only one more day until the day Tony would hopefully call.

The timer beeped. Sighing you peeled yourself from Freddie to take the tray out of the oven.

You sat it down on the counter next to the first, a lot less successful attempt.

You had wanted to do something nice for Freddie, had read up on Danish pastries the day before and after long contemplation finally saved a recipe on your phone. You didn’t know how to pronounce Brunsviger properly, but the pictures had looked great and the recipe seemed easy enough.

You still didn't know exactly where things had gone wrong. Although you had assured Freddie that he really didn't have to – and really, shouldn’t – he had tried a forkful of it anyway. As expected, it wasn’t good. Still, there was a traitorous wetness in his eyes and a long hug.

For the second attempt, Freddie hadn't left your side and guided you through it.

You left some on the counter for Jane. A silent apology for the last time you’d had Freddie over. You might have forgotten to tell her beforehand.

Or maybe, tell her about this at all. There just hadn’t been a good opportunity, especially also constantly having to think about your job.

On this day of all days Jane had come home a lot earlier than you anticipated. For a few seconds, she’d just blinked at you two sitting on the couch, you with your legs in Freddie’s lap.

Then, with a tight voice, she had asked: “Do you have a moment.” Her head nodding to the kitchen.

It had made you feel a little guilty how shocked she looked. Her first words being: “Is that Frederik Andersen in our living room?”.

Obviously, she was happy for you, after the first shock wore off.

The piece of Brunsviger was gone the next morning as you brought Freddie to the door.

"You're gonna be great," you told him goodbye.

The hug was long. Neither of you wanted to be the first to leave. In the end, it was time that drove you apart. If Freddie wanted to get to the airport on time, he had to hurry.

–

Of course, you watched the games. The first game was great, the second one maybe even better. It was also the first time since the new job that you were actually able to give the games your full attention again. Even if you hadn't really noticed it before, you had missed it a little.

You had a good time. When Freddie had a particularly good save, you wrote him a message. You knew he would reply after the game in the flustered way he always reacted to compliments.

The phone call one evening still took you by surprise. A smile spread across your face. "Hey."

"Hej."

Before you could even reply, you heard a voice in the background.

"Hey, Freddie, what got you smiling like this?" You didn’t recognize the voice but you also didn't have to in order to understand the clearly teasing undertone.

The rustling from the line told you that Freddie must have covered the microphone for a moment. The muffled words he threw back sounded a lot like an insult. The response was laughter.

"Talking to your girlfriend?" came another voice, also obviously meant to tease.

Freddie didn’t reply. You could only imagine his facial expression.

Apparently, it was an interesting one. They probably also had expected some kind of denial.

Now there were several voices talking excitedly over each other.

"Wait what?" - "Wait are you serious?" - "Since when?"

"You can't just say that and leave! You have to-"

Then the voices in the background suddenly disappeared.

"Sorry, I just need to change rooms for a minute”, he said a little sheepishly. "They might have found out that we've been talking."

"Do you mind?" You chewed on your lower lip as you awaited the answer. Freddie didn't sound too worried, but still, probably better to ask.

"Eh, not really" Then came the cautious question from him too: "Does it bother you?"

You took a moment to really think about it. Maybe it should have bothered you. Especially considering the fact that this was still so new with you two. Still, you couldn't find it in you to worry about it right now. You were far too happy for that.

"No. It probably had to come out somehow. Even if it was quicker than I thought. For hockey players, they're surprisingly smart."

Freddie's laughter rang out from the line. It made you miss seeing the little crinkles form around his eyes. "I'll tell them you said that”, he warned.

"Tony called today."

"Tony? From equipment?" Immediately you could hear Freddie perk up.

As if you knew another Tony.

"Uh-hu. You still have space in your car for one more person?" You let yourself fall backward onto your bed as you gave him a few moments to understand what you were saying.

A few seconds of silence and then a cautiously hopeful: "Yeah?"

"Just so I’m not almost late again, obviously." The corners of your mouth slowly began to pull into a grin.

"Really? Does that mean...?" The joy in his voice only made your grin widen.

"I'm employed. Permanently this time. Not just temporary."

Even as you heard the news from Tony himself, you could barely contain your happiness. As soon as you'd hung up, you'd jumped so loudly that even Jane had come out of the next room.

"That's fantastic!"

You couldn't even put into words how incredibly happy you were just then. The only thing that would’ve made the moment better was if you could have hugged Freddie at that moment.

–

Before you knew it, the day of the third and final game of the road trip had arrived. As you watched the game on the side while you prepared your dinner, you had a good feeling.

The first period wasn't ideal, but it wasn't disastrous either. The second period started with a goal for the Canes. You jumped up and down enthusiastically, broccoli in hand.

After that, it was all downhill. At the end of the second 20 minutes, the Canes were already 2 goals behind. Two more goals followed. Freddie got pulled in the last 5 minutes. You could almost feel his frustration through the screen as he went down the tunnel.

At that moment, you wished you could’ve been there. How much you would’ve liked to give him a hug and tell him that everything would be okay.

You hesitated for a moment before sending a text. You definitely didn't want to annoy him. A text could never really express the comfort you wanted to give him, but it felt even worse not to write anything.

You tried not to think too much about it when you still hadn't heard back after half an hour. He was probably busy with his post-game routines. After all, they were set to travel back today and arrive late tonight. Surely, he would reply on the plane.

–

It was pure coincidence that you were looking at your phone at that exact moment. Of course, you hadn't been checking for new messages every 5 minutes all evening. Who would do that? Definitely not you. (There were at least 6 and a half minutes on average between each time you checked your phone.)

So, it was definitely a complete coincidence that you were able to read the text the minute it flashed up on your phone.

It was just two short lines. An address.

It wasn’t even a question if you should go. Before you could even really think about it, you had already grabbed your jacket and put on your shoes.

As you closed the front door, your cell phone beeped with another message.

‘Only if you want to. Might not be in the best mood tonight.’

An obvious offer of a way out. As if you hadn't been waiting for this the whole evening. As if the thought of seeing Freddie again in just a few minutes didn't give you butterflies in your stomach.

Your heart broke a little at how uncertain the texts sounded, as if you hadn't missed him for the last few days.

Excitement tingled in your fingers as you finally stepped into the elevator to Freddie’s apartment. It had been a short drive.

The door swung open. Freddie was standing in front of you. For a moment, you just looked at each other silently, then he literally pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you sank into his arms.

You buried your face in his sweater. The warmth of his body and his familiar scent enveloped you. You could’ve stayed like this forever.

Freddie pressed a gentle kiss into your hair before holding you just a little tighter.

It was the rumbling of his stomach that finally separated you. Even though Freddie was reluctant to let you go, you shooed him into the apartment. He shouldn't have to starve because of you. Who knows when he’d last eaten before the flight?

Freddie apparently understood what you wanted from him and so he led you through the entrance area into the open kitchen. There was already a pot on the stove, some kind of pasta in it. Next to it was a pan of chopped vegetables.

While he took a large wooden spoon and stirred it slowly, you jumped onto one of the counters and sat down. Given your height and the height of the counters, which were definitely adapted to Freddie, it wasn't as easy as you thought, but the twitch in the corner of Freddie's mouth made it worth the effort.

From your position, you could watch Freddie. How his movements were all a little too choppy and the tense line in his shoulders. How he put the spoon down too hard on the counter. How he didn’t raise his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault." You said quietly.

Freddie exhaled in disbelief. He didn't look up at you.

Only when you reached out a hand for him did he come closer. He propped himself up with his arms on both sides of you, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

"Even though you might not believe me just yet, it wasn't your fault," you repeated, hoping that your words would get through to him eventually.

One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other you let run slowly through his hair.

"You did everything you could. It just wasn't your game. Can't win them all."

He let it pass for a moment, then took a deep breath. He turned his head. With a quick kiss against your neck, he pulled away from you.

"Thank you." He couldn't quite meet your gaze, but you still saw his words for what they were. Not just a thank you for right now, but the texts, the coming over, all the times before that.

"Nothing to thank me for," you confirmed. Freddie shook his head lovingly.

Nevertheless, he probably decided not to disagree for the moment. Instead, he took a plate from the cupboard. Silently he held it out to you, but you shook your head. You’d already eaten.

While Freddie ate, you sat beside him on the sofa. Your legs pressed together with soft music playing in the background for company.

When Freddie got up to take his plate back to the kitchen, you watched him.

Until he came back you hadn't moved from your seat, but apparently, Freddie was no longer satisfied with your previous seating arrangement. With a little shifting around, he finally settled behind you.

His legs were on either side of you, his back against the couch cushions, your back against his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, drawing slow circles into your side. The other hand was intertwined with yours on your lap.

Your words were quiet. You talked about the last few days, hockey the topic you both ignored. While you told him about the cute dog you'd seen while going grocery shopping, Freddie about something funny one of his teammates had done at team breakfast.

So much more important than your conversations, however, was the fact that you were together at that moment. You enjoyed the closeness; the body heat that radiated from him and slowly made you sleepy.

Every once in a while, Freddie took turns in gently kissing your temple and your forehead. Each time you sank a little more against him.

–

"Happy New Year," Freddie murmured. His arms around your waist pulled you closer to him.

"Happy New Year," you whispered back against his lips. With your hands on the back of his neck, you reached up for a kiss.

Even after all these years, you still weren't tired of it. Hopefully, you’d never be.

#hockey imagine #hockey fic #frederik andersen #frederik andersen imagine #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen x f!reader #nic writes #winter fic exchange 2k24 #winter fic exchange

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kokusfluffyhair · 7 months

Text

The Young Lord's Bride (Part 1)

(a Dororo x Inuyasha crossover)

Tahomaru x f!Reader (romantic, non-smut) | Sesshomaru x sister!Reader (platonic) Summary: While on the search for Naraku with your older brother, Sesshomaru, a strange demonic energy brings you to an abandoned village in the Land of Daigo. There, you meet the Lord's son, Tahomaru, with whom you begin to foster a forbidden bond.

A/N: Ages -- Sesshomaru and Reader are both many hundreds of years old (as demons). Physically Sesshomaru is 19, Reader 17. There will NOT be smut or sexual content in the story

"Aniue."

Sesshomaru didn't respond. He kept on walking ahead of you down the path, deep in his own silent thoughts.

"Aniue."

Typical to his character, he still didn't respond.

You sighed and ran to catch up with him. "Aniue, I'm talking to you! Hey!"

Without looking back, Sesshomaru replied, "Y/n, I am not in the mood to talk. Heed your older brother's will and be silent."

"That's right, y/n-sama!" Jaken piped up, waving his staff of three heads in a scolding manner. "You must obey Sesshomaru-sama and stop your babbling at once!"

You glared at the loudmouthed imp. "Who says you can tell me what to do?"

"Jaken," Sesshomaru said calmly, without emotion in his voice. "If you give another scolding to my sister, I will kill you."

Jaken cowered and made many quick steps backwards.

You looked at your brother as he continued on ahead.

"Aniue. Will you let this gripe with Inuyasha over the Tetsusaiga go?"

Sesshomaru slowed down a bit in pace. "You do not understand the blow to my pride Chichiue gave me by leaving me nothing but this sword that cannot cut," he said with bitterness in his voice, his eyes refusing to glimpse at you.

You sighed. "Yeah, well he left me the So'unga, which I can't even use."

Sesshomaru's eyebrows furrowed very slightly. "That is your weakness if you cannot use it."

You folded your arms over your chest. "Then why don't you help teach me how to overcome its aura, Anieue? It's too much for you, too."

Sesshomaru was silent for several steps.

"Still, y/n, Chichiue was willing to leave you with something of value."

There was no point continuing to argue with him. You stayed behind him, watching as the fluffy piece of his armour seemed to wave behind him like a tail.

But then, suddenly, he stopped and put his arm out in front of him. "Do you sense it?"

You concentrated more. "It's very weak. Do you think it's Naraku?"

Sesshomaru took off at full speed.

"Aniue!" you call as went after him. You hated how he had the habit of sprinting away without warning.

"Sesshomaru-sama! Y/n-sama! Please don't leave me behind!" Jaken's squeaky voice shot into your ears before you disappeared into the distance.

You and Sesshomaru followed the faint demonic energy until you reached an area where you were surrounded by it. The two of you both elegantly came to a stop, finding yourselves in a damaged village. The demonic energy was lightly pulsing under the ground like the echo of an earthquake.

Somehow, despite being left far enough behind that you would think he would be lost for good, Jaken always catches up to you. After you and Sesshomaru took a moment to survey the area, searching for the core of the demonic energy, you heard Jaken panting, completely out of breath. The small creature then collapsed to the ground behind you.

"This human village is a mess," you said as you looked around. The place was deserted, with no people to be seen and X markings on most of the houses.

Jaken, having taken in large inhales of air, cringed from the stench. "It smells like decaying bodies over here! Fuu! There must have been a human plague here. What do you think, Sesshomaru-sama?"

Sesshomaru didn't answer him. Instead he moved closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n, let's go. We do not want this smell to contaminate us."

You nodded in agreement, and were about to leave with your brother, when a young man's voice called over to you.

"Who goes there!?"

You could see in Sesshomaru's jaw that he was gritting his teeth at the sound of the voice. From what you could sense, it was obviously coming from a human, and an uppity one at that.

You turned in the direction of the voice to see a young man dressed in samurai attire. He had a harsh expression on his face, as if he was pressing his muscles into a scowl to try to make himself look tougher. His slanted eyebrows dug into his brow as his glare pierced heavily towards you. You couldn't help but bring your attention to his right eye. It was closed with a vertical scar going through the middle, as if he had been slashed in the eye. It was rather shocking. He looked like he was only around Inuyasha's age.

Jaken started to shake his staff at the young samurai. "How dare you talk to my Lord and Lady with that insolent mouth, human! If you value your life you will get on your knees right now and show some respect --!" His squawking speech was silenced with a kick from Sesshomaru's feet as he calmly and deliberately stepped closer to the young man.

The young man seemed to be made uncomfortable by Sesshomaru's presence, but he stood his ground. "Who are you and where do you come from? This is Daigo Land!"

You heard Sesshomaru growl quietly under his breath and wondered if the young samurai would end up soiling himself out of fear.

"Daigo Land?" you ask and step forward, moving between Sesshomaru and the stranger. "Some land you've got here. This village seems to have fallen to its death."

"Y/n. I will speak with this human," Sesshomaru said.

"Let me take care of it, Aniue. You're too annoyed right now."

"Y/n ..."

"Aniue, just let me handle him."

The bickering seemed to relax the young man. The muscles in his face stopped squeezing together so roughly, and he looked at you with a gaze of curiosity.

"Do you know of a demon named Naraku?" Sesshomaru asked in a stern voice.

The young man looked confused. "Naraku?"

"That's right!" piped up Jaken. "Have you no ears!?"

"Silence, Jaken!"

"Y-Yes, Sesshomaru-sama."

You rubbed your forehead. "My brother is really focused on the mission we've got. But it seems you don't know anything."

"Mission?" the young samurai asked.

"Y/n, we will be going," Sesshomaru said.

You looked at the young samurai. He was kind of cute, now that he wasn't trying to look as angry and authoritative as before. "Aniue, I think I'd like to talk to him more. Maybe he knows more than he lets on."

"I --" the young man began.

"Y/n," Sesshomaru said with an underlying harshness in his voice. "We will be going. I desire to investigate the demonic energy in this region. We will not be wasting our time here."

"Demonic energy?" the stranger asked. He stepped closer to you. "What demonic energy?"

"You don't sense it?" you asked.

He shook his head.

"It is because he is a useless human, y/n. We are going." Sesshomaru started to walk away.

"There is ... a place around here that concerns demons," the young man said.

Sesshomaru stopped.

"Can you bring us to it?" you asked.

"I ..." He seemed to not really want to, but felt very pressured by Sesshomaru's threatening eye. He didn't appear to catch on to the fact that you and your brother were demons, but it was clear that you were both very powerful and in the strange company of your imp servant. "Yes. I can. If you will allow me."

"Well then, let's go, since we found ourselves here!" you say before your brother can utter a word. You look to the young man. "We'll be following you then. Or at least I will." You look to Sesshomaru, who gives you a glare.

"Yes," the stranger seemed to be nervous. "Follow me." He cleared his throat. "The place I'll bring you to is a bit of a distance. I have my horse tied at the edge of the village, but there aren't any others around. We'll have to ride to the Castle to secure some for you."

"Castle?" Sesshomaru asked.

The young man nodded. "Yes. I'm Lord Daigo's son, Tahomaru."

Sesshomaru appeared to take him slightly more seriously after hearing his pedigree, although at the end of the day he was still a human.

"My sister and I do not require horses. You will point us in the direction we are to meet you at."

"I'd like to ride a horse," you say. "It's something new."

"Y/n, this is not a time for adventure."

"Why not?"

"This is a serious matter."

You sigh. "I still want to ride a horse. So, Tahomaru can point you and Jaken in the direction to go, and I'll go back to the Castle with him and get a horse."

"You will not be going alone over there."

"Then come with me, Aniue."

It was all too overwhelming for Tahomaru. He cleared his throat and tried to stand straighter. "Please, if you come to my Castle, I will treat you to some tea."

"We do not eat human food," Sesshomaru said, almost in a snarl.

Tahomaru froze. "Human food?"

"We're demons," you say. "Couldn't you tell?"

Tahomaru just stared, his eye popping open wider.

You sighed. "No, no, we aren't those kind of monster demons that are overly aggressive and kind of stupid. We're more sophisticated demons."

"That's right!" came Jaken's voice. "You should know better just by looking at my Lord and Lady!"

"Jaken." Sesshomaru sounded like he was coming close to losing his patience.

You look back to Tahomaru. "Don't listen to my brother. We can eat human food. He's just being difficult. But we prefer raw meat, if you can arrange that."

Tahomaru stuck his nose into the air a bit. "Well, we do have plenty of high-quality raw fish at the Castle. There's more than enough that can be arranged for your liking."

"Sounds good. I'm actually pretty hungry." You look to Sesshomaru. "I'm going with him, Aniue."

Tahomaru straightened his shoulders and started to lead you to the horse. Jaken started to rant again about how you should not defy your older brother's wishes before he was stepped on by Sesshomaru, who reluctantly followed you. He caught up with you in an instant, hovering over your back as you walked.

"I do not like going with him," he said under his breath in a very low voice.

"He might have more information about that demon energy. It's the best lead we've got," you said to him back.

Sesshomaru sneered but agreed, and all of you began to head to the Castle.

#dororo #inuyasha #tahomaru x reader #tahomaru x you #tahomaru x y/n #sesshomaru x sister reader #sesshomaru x you platonic #sesshomaru inuyasha #tahomaru dororo #dororo x inuyasha #inuyasha fandom find me #dororo fandom find me #dororo fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction

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zombryz · 1 year

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♡ all my suffering ♡ chapter 4

˗ˏˋ hello ˎˊ˗

Chapter Four

Pairings: Shigaraki x f!reader x Dabi

A/N: Hello my friends! First of all, thank you for reading this far and I appreciate all the support :) Enjoy the 4th chapter! Also, FYI - I do have the ending planned out so I'm not writing the plot of the story as we go, but lets just say this is elevated porn with plot (sorry). I just enjoy writing action scenes... let me know if its not very entertaining and I can cut it back some.

Warnings: Specific to this chapter - blood, lots of blood, Sexual assault, angst, abuse (physical and emotional), possessiveness, slowburn progression, TW for Overhaul in general (Idk why I hate him lol)

Word Count: 7k

You left Dabi sleeping on the mattress as you quickly followed Shigaraki out of the garden shed, adjusting your T-shirt and smoothing out your hair. The last thing you wanted was to make him more annoyed with you. This walk of shame was going to suck. Shigaraki was standing next to his Nomu, facing the woods in the direction of the house, waiting for you as you dove beneath the same wooden panel as the previous night. Shigaraki was standing there with his arms crossed. You were embarrassed and concerned about his sudden stoicism. Your cheeks turned scarlet as you purposefully waited to speak first. Since you first saw him, months ago now, his light blue hair has gradually grown longer. Now it was almost past his shoulders and was blowing slightly in the wind. You really took in his looks under the morning sun, admiring how his arms looked in the black shirt he was wearing.

“Tch,” he begins without looking back at you, “you’re going to have to change before I hand you over.” He states this nonchalantly, his voice extremely monotone.

“I-I know. I’m sorry,” your voice cracks from using it for the first time that morning; suddenly very nervous to be in his presence, “I’ll be quick.”

“Good.” He left it at that before walking toward the house ahead of you, his nomu in tow.

Once you got back to the house, you quickly changed into your hero costume. Villain Costume? Oh, you didn’t even know anymore. There were still rips from where you were captured that night months ago. Eventually, you’ll have to consider getting a replacement or at least a patch up. You sighed heavily as you equipped your knives to your thighs. What even happened last night? You slept with Dabi; you remember now. Your face heats up thinking about his face in between your thighs. What does that mean for you? Did you like him? Did he like you? Suddenly, your brain goes back to your walk back to the house with Shigaraki. He didn’t say anything else to you. The tension was thick in the air. He didn’t even prepare you for your job with Overhaul, which seems like something he should’ve done. Or maybe you should’ve asked him. It’s too late now. You’ll just have to ask Toga.

A big, blacked-out van comes to pick you up, along with Toga and Twice. The two of them were giddy and happy about having a job that could finally contribute to the group. They spent the ride talking and playing rock, paper, scissors. You, however, were stuck in your head thinking about Dabi and how you didn’t say goodbye to him in your rush to chase after Shigaraki that morning. You hoped he would understand why you left so quickly. Heck, he’s a hot villain, so you were sure he probably slept with loads of girls in the past, and they were probably all one-night stands. He didn’t seem like the relationship type, and he definitely knew what he was doing in bed. The thought made your stomach sink—thinking about him sleeping with tons of other girls. With that, you pulled up to your destination and were pulled from your thoughts. Thank god.

As the three of you exited the van, you saw him. You didn’t even realize how much pent-up anger you still had for the man standing only a few feet in front of you now. Your brows furrowed in anger like those of an untrusting dog ready to attack. Twice felt your energy and put his arm in front of your body, prepared to hold you back if necessary. Overhaul was surrounded by his men, who were polished and wearing black suits and ties. They looked like hit men, and that's probably exactly what they did for work. “It’s okay, Y/N.” Twice whispered to try and console you. You hadn’t even noticed your knuckles whitening as you brought your hand down to one of your knives.

“Welcome, my League of Villains associates,” he started. His hands were behind his back, and he still spoke through that dumb fucking mask that he always wore. At least Shigaraki’s was scary. Overhaul’s just made him look like a tall, man bird. You truly hated him. He noticed right away that your hateful eyes were fixed on him. “Y/N, I hear you’re this group’s team leader.” He speaks directly to you now, a small smirk on his lips.

You had no clue what he was talking about considering Shigaraki didn’t really brief you that morning, but you weren’t going to let Overhaul get the upper hand here. “Yeah, I am,” you say, feeling the haste on your tongue as you suck in through your teeth.

“Good, follow me,” he turned away, signaling for you to follow him with the wave of his hand. “The other two can go with my men here.” You were suddenly worried and didn’t want to be separated from Toga and Twice. Overhaul was not someone you could see yourself ever trusting. It's a shame, but he got on your shit list the day he killed Magne. Twice pulled his arm away from you, and Toga shot you a sympathetic smile. You followed him inside, down an elevator, and through hallway after hallway. Left, right, and right again, you tried to remember your exit plan while he was leading you, but all the walls looked the same—gray, boring, and without windows since you were underground. Great.

You arrived at a room that had the appearance of a guest room. The bedsheets were done up like a hotel, and there was a small side table with a lamp next to it. A small TV sat in the corner of the room. The walls were just as gray in the room as they were in the hall. You frowned at the sight. “Is this where I’ll be staying?” You spoke up before Overhaul had the chance to even give you a tour of your home for the week.

“Yeah, it i-”

You cut him off once more: “Where are Toga and Twice going to be staying?” You interjected, crossing your arms and not giving a damn that he was still speaking.

“They’ll be in the two rooms next to yours.” He gestures to the rooms behind you with a tilt of his chin. You stay quiet this time. Not really having much else to say to him, hoping this conversation would be over soon. He pauses for a long moment, unsure if you were going to speak up again. He takes a moment to take you in. This was the closest he’s ever been to you. The girl who managed to make him bleed, he thought. What an interesting specimen you were. He thought you were pretty and had an aura that made you frightening. You were a mystery to him, and he wanted to know why Shigaraki wouldn’t exactly give you up as easily as he did the others.

“Are we done?” You interrupt his thoughts. Not sure why you’re still having this awkward conversation.

“You’re kind of feisty, aren’t you?” He chuckles softly. It was definitely not a noise you expected him to make.

“Only with people I have no interest in speaking with.” You crossed your arms this time; this action made his eyes fix on your side, and then his eyes slowly trailed down to your legs, examining your bodysuit. It was filled with holes and rips from your previous fights. He didn’t like how unkempt it was.

“I’ll have my team get you a new suit.” He ignores your previous comment. His eyes move back up to yours, and suddenly you feel small. You don’t let go of your false confidence, though, as he continues to stare you down. “Before we talk about why you’re here, are you hungry?” Now that you thought about it, you were starving. Shigaraki barely kept food on the table for the league; it was usually everyone for themselves, so you don’t remember the last time you had something to eat that wasn’t stolen. You must have lost about 10 pounds since joining the league. Actually, a lot of the members were kind of scrawny. This thought made you sad. All you could do was nod and Overhaul once again lead you through the hallways of the yakuza stronghold.

When you came across a small kitchen in one of the big rooms underground, you saw a few random men seated at one of the tables, but upon seeing Overhaul, they got up and left. He grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and handed it to you before grabbing a water bottle and leading you over to one of the tables. You both take a seat, and you are skeptical for a moment but reluctantly take the two items from him anyway.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask while scarfing down the sandwich he gave you. Maybe you should be more worried about him possibly poisoning you, but you weren’t sure that you cared considering how good the sandwich was. Overhaul sat across from you and you shifted uncomfortably as the metal table touched your bare skin where the giant hole resided in your suit. He had taken off his mask and placed it on the table so that he could eat as well, and you still weren’t sure why he even wore the stupid thing. Maybe to keep up the scary morale? Who knows. He was kind of like Shigaraki, but they were more mirror images of each other. The opposite, if you will. It was kind of weird how you felt like you were having deja vu. Your eyebrows were still furrowed in anger. You were starting to think they would permanently be like that around him, although he was being nice for the time being. You still hated him, and before anything else, you didn’t trust him. “You should hate me like I hate you,” you added bluntly before taking another bite of your food.

“Why would I hate you?” He chuckled once more. This time you looked at him, and your brows softened ever so slightly. You could finally see his smile without his mask. Overhaul certainly wasn’t ugly. He would probably be classified as a pretty boy to other people. You feel like Toga might like him if she were here. He had dark and alluring eyes with long bottom and top eyelashes. He had a beauty mark under his eye that just added to his pretty features.

“Well, for starters, I did that to you.” You sat up a little and pointed with your sandwich at the big scar on his wrist; it had barely healed. You honestly weren’t even sure if he realized it was you who threw the knife at him. Everything happened so quickly that, for all you knew, he didn’t see who threw it.

“Yeah, you’re a pretty good shot,” he smiles lowly before looking up into your eyes through his lashes. He takes a bite of his food and doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“I don’t know about that; I was aiming for your head.” You looked away from him. A small smirk escapes your lips.

His expression was calm as he chuckled at your words again. A full-on smile was plastered on his face this time. What’s with this guy?

“I took your friend’s life and your other friend's arm,” he says casually, shifting the conversation back to a serious tone. The anger bubbles up in you once more as you remember that day. “I’m sorry.”

What? He’s apologizing? You admit that you did not see that coming. Was he just trying to get on your good side? Was he trying to recruit you? Something felt off. You still didn’t trust him.

“Don’t get it twisted. I am still going to kill you if I get the chance.” You frown. “For Magne,” you state coldly.

His expression doesn’t falter. Instead, he shifts in his seat to put his hands under his chin, resting his elbows on the table. He understands that your relationship wasn’t going to heal in a day.

“You work for me now,” he pauses. “Well, for this week at least. Unless I can convince Shigaraki to fully hand you over to me.” He starts speaking business, and your ears perk up. “I don’t know if that will ever happen, though; you’re very special to him.” You freeze at his words. Why? Special? After a moment, you realize he probably meant because of your quirk. That had to be it, right? He continues, “We received intel that it's possible that at some point this week the hero society will try to infiltrate our base,” your eyes widen.

“W-What? Is that why we’re here? Does Shigaraki know?” Your voice betraying you and coming out a bit strange as you speak through your anxiety. That meant that you might see some of your old hero friends. You were not ready for this at all.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not planning on having you on the battle front. Your sole responsibility is to heal my men if they are injured in the fight.” He notices the concern in your face and says, “Plus, this is a stronghold; we’ve held up down here for almost a century.” His words console you. You take a deep breath in.

“Okay,” you reply with more certainty in your voice this time. You want to ask him why they don’t relocate, but remember quickly that he said they’ve been down there for almost a century. You didn’t really think to ask what the Hassaikai did for the hero society to try to infiltrate them. You’ll come to realize that you wish you had asked. “And for the record, Shigaraki doesn’t own me. I can make my own decisions about who I work for.” Overhaul smiles at your sudden blurt.

♡

The next morning, you stirred awake with wide eyes at the realization that someone's arms were wrapped around your waist. Their face was plastered to your back, and they were snoring softly. You almost panicked before you looked down and saw Toga's delicate fingers holding on to your shirt. She was such a sweetheart; you had grown to love her like a sister these past few months. You suddenly hear more snoring coming from your floor; this time it sounded more manly. You slowly roll toward the edge of the bed and see Twice laying on the floor with a pillow and a blanket. His face was half-wrapped with a piece of silk, and his blonde hair was messily sprawled on the pillow. Cute. Overhaul’s men had given you each a set of dark gray scrubs to sleep in, so you were all matching. It almost felt like you were in jail, but you admit it felt good to eat real food and sleep in a real bed for once. It was cute that the two other members didn’t want to sleep alone. You didn’t blame them at all.

Toga had started to wake up, and you felt bad for moving around so much. You turned toward her and rubbed a small circle on her cheek and whispered, “Go back to sleep; it’s okay.” She nodded with her eyes closed and turned over in bed. The league really was like the family you never had. As you got out of bed, you quietly stepped over Twice and walked out of the room. To your surprise, one of Overhaul's men was posted just outside and turned to look at you as you jumped a little. It's good to know he didn’t trust you either.

“I have instructions to bring you to the boss once you’re awake.” You groan, already irritated. He had a mask on that was similar to Overhaul’s and carried a machine gun in his arms. Did he really think you guys were that dangerous?

“What time is it anyway?” you ask the masked stranger as he radios his replacement. Another masked man comes running down the hall to stand guard over Toga and Twice. If you had known this would be a whole thing, you would’ve just woken them up too.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.,” he answered gruffly.

“Is Overhaul even awake yet?” Your eyebrows raised; you were a little confused by all this but followed the man anyways.

“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

You follow the man down some halls to the elevator that brought you down before. He swiped his keycard and clicked level 5. You noticed you were on level 7 currently. Damn, you suddenly remembered just how deep underground you were. The thought makes you nauseous. You walk down the hall and see a few other men wearing the same uniform as your guide. All of them have guns. It felt darker on this floor for some reason. The walls must be a darker shade of gray. Once you arrive at what you assume is where Overhaul is, you watch as your guide whispers something to the two men posted outside the door and then brings his arm up to lightly knock on the double doors. You hear something inside and then a “Come in.”

Your guide pushes you inside and closes the door behind you. Okay? Rude. You look around the room, but it's pretty dark, so you can only make out shapes that resemble a bedroom with lots of furniture. Suddenly, the room is illuminated with the sound of a clap that makes you jump a little. It was still kind of dark; only the corners of the room were lit up with a comfortable, warm light. You let your eyes adjust and looked around you. The room was massive and filled with furniture that you only saw in the homes of top heroes. There was a fireplace to the left, along with a huge shag rug. To your right was a kitchen and living room combo with marbled countertops and a massive flat screen that came out of the wall. The couch looked like a cloud and was big, white, and fluffy. On top of that, everything was pristine. The floors were marbled black and looked like they had never seen a speck of dust. You allowed your wanderlust to get the best of you, and your eyes snapped back to the center of the room, where you noticed an all-black king bed with silk sheets and a beautiful stone backwall. On the bed was Overhaul, who sat up leaning on one of his hands while the other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He was shirtless, and the silk sheets fell to his hips. You were suddenly embarrassed and didn’t expect him to be so ripped. His night sweat was glistening in between his pecs. You diverted your eyes and placed your arms behind your back, feeling awkward. A sudden redness made its way to your cheeks; you weren’t sure how to feel in this moment. Instead of the anger that usually spreads across your face when in his presence, this time you had a look of shock and nervousness.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect you to be up so early; maybe I should’ve told my men to just make you go back to sleep instead of bringing you here.” His morning voice is deep and raspy, making you squirm even more.

“I-I’m sorry, I can go,” you start towards the door. Your voice is small and far.

“No, it’s okay,” he starts, uncovering himself as he gets out of bed. “You’re already here; we can start the day.” He stands up and stretches, showing off more of his body unintentionally. His pants were dangerously low, and you couldn’t help but stare at him. Damn it. He sucks. You can’t be thinking about him like that.

“Um, okay, sure,” your voice cracks slightly.

“I actually have something for you,” he walks over to his kitchen as your eyes follow him. His back is equally toned. You have got to pull it together. “Here, I had them rush this, and we got lucky; they had one already in the warehouse." "I hope it fits.” You walk over to him and grab the piece of clothing from his hands. You backed away, nervous to be this close to him.

“A new suit?” You look at the fabric in your hands. It felt very similar to your old one but was made with better quality material. It was also… “Purple?” you ask bluntly. A dark lavender, from what you could tell, which wasn't the color of your old hero suit but you didn’t mind it. Maybe it was time to retire it anyway. You weren’t a hero anymore.

“Yeah, thats kind of my color,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I thought it’d look good on you,” he yawns. You remember his jacket that had the purple ruffles. Great. You’ll be matching with the guy you hate most. You roll your eyes internally.

“Cool,” you say as you tuck the suit under your arm.

“Do you want to head back down and wake the others?”

“Sure.”

Overhaul walks you out of his room, and the man who was your guide earlier walks you back to your room. Toga and Twice were still sleeping, so you lightly tapped on their foreheads to wake them up. Once they were awake, you were brought to the showers and got ready for the day. You sighed as you rubbed the fabric of the suit between your fingers. This felt significant somehow, like you were officially packing up your old life and starting a new one. You pull on the suit; this one zips in the front and buttons at the top of your neck, allowing you to control how much clevage you wanted to show, which was nice. You decided not to show any. Overall, it fit well; it was a little tight in the ass area, but that was okay. Lastly, you put on your black combat boots as well as your thigh holster for your throwing knives. Overhaul made sure the suit was fingerless so that you could still activate your quirk easily. He also gave you a waist pack that matched your boots. It was filled with medical equipment, and there was even a secret compartment in the back that was a holster for a butterfly knife, which he gifted you a purple one to match. You wore it on the back side so that it was out of the way and you could easily grab the butterfly knife handle if you needed it. You looked in the mirror; your hair was still dripping wet. You put a black mask around your ears to become one of the hassaikai and noticed a small hickey on your neck below your right ear that was quickly fading, and it made you think about Dabi. You wondered what he was doing right now and if he even missed you. You couldn’t decipher how you were feeling but had a twinge of guilt thinking about Overhaul. You drain the water from your hair and braid it back in pigtails. You took one last look at the new you, feeling confident and ready.

♡

The week was almost over. Tomorrow was your last day at the stronghold. Thank god. You couldn't really take any more little awkward moments with Overhaul. He was starting to grow on you, and you hated that. You, of course, still didn’t trust him, but it was nice to have someone to talk to while you were there. Toga and Twice didn’t really have much to say. Their loyalty was with Shigaraki, so they only did what they were told in front of Overhaul, and Overhaul was always next to you. You suppose your loyalty was with Shigaraki as well. Deep down, you knew you were loyal to him, but you weren’t really sure why. The week had been so slow that it was driving you mad. Overhaul manned both Toga and Twice at the front of the stronghold elevators, and there was a barrier of his men between you and them. They were on the front lines, which made you nervous, but as the week went on, your anxiety dissipated, and you felt like the attack would never come. Overhaul kept you with him in a huge room at the back end of floor five. You were sitting next to him, fidgeting with your nails, when you heard a sudden boom come from a couple levels up. It shook the entire room and made the dust shake off the walls. That can’t be good. Suddenly, Overhaul’s radio went off, and one of his men could be heard yelling on the comms, “They’re here! Everyone, the heroes are here! They—” and the room was met with radio silence. You looked over at Overhaul, who was surprisingly calm.

“What should I do?” You looked to him for orders, your face drowning in worry. He stayed quiet as he began zoning out. He stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. You were confused.

“Come with me,” he signaled you to follow him, and so you did.

As you followed him down the hallway, the rumbling of the building worsened, and you could hear screaming from the upper levels. Overhaul was walking fast, and you were trying to keep up with him.

“Hey! Stop!” You heard a man's voice from down the hall. What? Are they down here already? No way. Your eyes widened as you turned around to look at who the voice belonged to. You were closer to him, and Overhaul stood behind you. Your eyes met a blonde man who looked to be only a few years younger than you. He was built like Allmight, and his eyes were dark blue. He had on his hero costume, which was yellow and white with a red cape. Across his chest was the number 1,000,000. Your mind went blank as you started to recognize him; you couldn’t quite place his name, though. You just remembered that he was a student at U.A. High. Once his eyes locked on yours, you could tell he was also trying to piece together how he knew you.

“Lady Medela? You’re working with these people?” He finally recognizes you, and his voice comes out strained. You don’t answer, and so he continues, “You’re on the missing persons list, ya know? Are you in trouble?” He sucks in through his teeth, anger overwhelming him once more. He diverts his eyes back to Overhaul, who is just standing behind you with his hands in his pockets. You are silent, but your eyes show that you’re in pain and confused by his words. You remember your life before, but now that you were actually face to face with a hero, you were tempted to run to him and let him save you from all this. The hero in front of you drops his head and his voice cracks; he’s on the verge of tears as he says this: “Did you know he’s keeping a little girl here that he’s torturing and using as a weapon?” He looks back at you through angry eyes now. He was still holding onto the hope that you weren’t working with Overhaul.

“What? Is that true?” The heroes' words cause you to turn around and face Overhaul now. Your furious, angry face returns, along with all the hatred you’ve harbored for him. You drop every ounce of whatever it was you felt with him to resort back to anger. You slowly reach for your butterfly knife, but it all happened so fast. Overhaul quickly overpowers you and puts his hand around your neck, locking you in a chokehold. The hero, a couple of feet away, tries to run after you when a crashing noise is met with one of Overhaul's men falling through the floor, blocking you from the young hero. His men immediately start fighting with him, drowning out your need for rescue.

“C’mon, how about I take you to her?” Overhaul’s voice is suddenly sinister, and you can feel your heart beat in your temples as the blood rushes to your head, depriving you of oxygen. He turns down the hall with his arm still around your throat. He throws you up against a wall, and he pulls down your mask to rub his finger over your lips roughly. He then kisses you aggressively and bites your lip hard enough to make you bleed. You whimper in pain, and he pulls away, adding, “You can finally meet my daughter.” He lets go of your neck to shift you in front of him, and as you’re gasping for air, you see him swing back his fist to punch you in the face, knocking you out.

---

You’re not sure how long it's been, but you wake up in a dark room with a throbbing headache. There is a little girl sitting over you, shaking you awake with tears in her eyes. She’s terrified and saying something, but you can’t hear her. She looks to be about seven or eight years old and has long, blueish gray hair, red eyes, and a little horn on the side of her forehead. If you didn’t know any better, you would think she was related to Shigaraki. You put two and two together and knew she had to be Overhaul’s daughter. That son of a bitch, he punched you! You get up quickly and reach for the throbbing part of your skull.

“Don’t move so fast, you’ll hurt yourself!” The little girl warns you; her voice is small and sweet.

“It’s okay; I’m okay.” You send her a small smile. You curse yourself for not knowing she was here the whole time you were here. You take in her appearance, and shes in a hospital gown covered in bandages. Overhaul is going to pay for this. “Now, how about you and I get out of here, huh?” She looks at you with barely any hope in her eyes but nods to your statement. Poor girl. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?” you ask, trying to get her to talk again.

“Eri,” she responds in a soft voice that breaks your heart.

“Okay, Eri, I’m going to heal my headache enough to have the energy to get us out of here.” She nods, and you activate your quirk just enough to make the throbbing go away. You then pick her up and carry her on your back. She snuggles into your shoulder blades, and you start walking towards the door. The medical room was dark, and the only light was coming from a small window in the steel door. You try kicking the door, but have no luck. You then step back and take a deep breath before cracking your knuckles. “Cover your eyes and ears if you can.” You warn her before slamming your fist into the window. Nothing happens at first, so you put more force into the second punch, causing it to shatter. Your fist is immediately covered in blood and glass. You pull a large shard out of your knuckle, hissing at the pain. Once you’re clear, you reach through the window and unlock the door, cutting up your forearm in the process. There is blood everywhere, and you think you might pass out, but you stay strong for Eri. On the other side of the door, you activate your quirk for a second time, which is enough to stop the bleeding in both places, but because of your head injury, you’re unable to heal fully. You look around both halls and don’t see anyone. It’s quiet. You decide to head toward the emergency stairwell, and you take off, shifting Eri into a more comfortable position. “Okay, up we go. You ready?” You communicate with her so shes not scared. She just nods into your shoulder blades, and you take off running down the hall.

You and Eri make your way up five flights of stairs, and you’re in pain and out of breath. You try to hold yourself together and remind yourself that there are only two more flights of stairs left. The building was still shaking from all the fighting, so you held on to the rails for dear life. Once you made it to stairwell level-two, you started quickening your pace. You were almost out when suddenly the stairs from level-one started collapsing, and your eyes widened in fear of being crushed. You spun around and dove through the level-two door that brought you back into the halls. Eri asked if you were okay while you were on your hands and knees struggling to breathe. You just patted her leg in response and tried to get up and stand. You struggled for a moment and finally got back up on your feet. You had no choice but to walk the halls now, and you had no clue if you would run into heroes or Hassaikai members. You took it with a grain of salt and continued on, hoping for the best. After walking for a few minutes, you heard loud rumbling once more, and it sounded very close to you. There was a room up ahead that had been blown up, and a lot of the load-bearing walls were about to give. As you got closer, you noticed it was a small warehouse, and there were people fighting inside. You kept your distance, approached the area quietly, and stayed low to the ground, hoping the people fighting wouldn’t notice you. There he was: Overhaul. He was fighting someone. You ran to a closer wall that could give you a better glimpse of the battle. He was fighting the blonde hero from earlier along with another familiar hero, a small man who had on a green hero suit paired with red shoes. Suddenly, Overhaul sent concrete spikes up from the ground to try and hit both of the heroes. You froze for a second in shock when you felt something impale your leg. After a moment, you felt cold, and when you looked down, you saw one of the spikes sticking out of your calf. You dropped to your knees once he released the spikes, sending them back into the ground. A bloodcurdling scream came from your lungs, and then it felt like the fighting halted when all three men looked over at you. Instead of looking at them, you kept your focus on your leg. Your face was contorted in pain, and you immediately broke out in a sweat. The spike had ripped your muscles to shreds. The two heroes noticed Eri on your back and decided to fall back to where you were. Overhaul noticed you and his daughter, and that both heroes were trying to make their way to you. He wasn’t going to have that. He shot off more concrete blasts, but the smaller hero was faster; he noticed this, and his fist met Overhaul’s face. He kept hitting him over and over, not allowing him access to you. The blonde hero used the distracted Overhaul to fall through the floor and appear again next to you. He took Eri from your back and attempted to help you.

“Can you stand?” He reaches his hand out to you and tries to help you up.

“I-I need-d to fix my leg first,” you struggle to reply through your broken sobs, the pain causing you to go in and out of consciousness. You weren’t even sure if you could activate your quirk in this state or if you had the energy to heal yourself. Your hair began to float slightly, and your pupils flickered into white glowing orbs. When you grabbed your calf, the hole in your leg slowly began repairing the muscle, stitching itself back together again. You’ve lost too much blood at this point, and your head injury was bad, so you were only able to heal it enough to fix the muscle. The wound was still big and bloody, but you couldn’t keep going, you had no more energy left. The room began to spin, and you knew you were about to pass out. Before you did, you looked over at the blonde hero and grabbed his hand.

“M-Make sure you get Eri somewhere safe.” He nodded and started saying something about how he was going to make sure you got out of here too, but his words fell on deaf ears. You were already out of it; you fell backwards, and the hero made sure to catch you enough before laying you down softly on the concrete floor. He escaped with Eri, leaving the fight to the other hero. Once the battle ended, Overhaul was arrested, and the search crew began going floor by floor, recovering bodies and the injured. You were unconscious when someone picked you up off the floor, bridal style.

---

“She’s still feverish, but I think she’s finally waking up,” You hear a familiar voice in your vicinity. A hand comes to rest on your forehead to feel your fever. There were muffled voices in the background, but you couldn’t quite make them out. “Hey, Y/N, it’s us; you’re okay.” Her voice was calm and eased you. It was Toga’s voice; you’d recognize it anywhere.

“W-What happened?” You finally go to sit up and once again grab your aching skull. You look down at your body and see that you were still in your bodysuit, which is ripped at your leg. It looked like someone cut the fabric to be able to apply bandages to your wound. You remember what happened now. “Where is Overhaul?” You grumbled angrily, more angry than the League has ever seen you.

“He was arrested.” Twice replied. You follow his voice with your eyes and see the rest of the league gathered around you. They had stationed you on the kitchen table and used towels, blankets, and anything else they could find as padding for a makeshift hospital bed. You were in the hideout, and by the looks of it, it was evening. There were candles all over the kitchen, and everyone's faces looked warm under the candlelight.

“How did I get out?” You asked, not remembering anything.

“Toga and I found you covered in ruble, and we snuck you out.” Twice answered once more. You looked around the kitchen again and saw both Shigaraki and Dabi on the other side of the room, standing in the shadows. Shigaraki was maskless and emotionless. Dabi, on the other hand, looked angry and upset. They were both not looking in your direction. Toga, Twice, Spinner, and Mr. Compress were surrounding you, making sure you were okay.

“Y/N, what happened with Overhaul?” Spinner chimed in.

“I’m going to kill him,” you hissed while wiping your mouth, remembering how he kissed you and violated you. Your hatred for the man was spewing all over your words. The league looked at you in surprise. Shigaraki’s ears perked up at this and he finally looked over at you. It was odd for him to see you, nothing but a little hero, threaten to kill someone. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but he knew that whatever Overhaul did to you must’ve been bad for you to want to kill him. Shigaraki suddenly felt angry at Overhaul, his thoughts immediately going to the worst possibility. If he hurt you, he’d kill him for you. You wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. You went on to explain everything to the league. Most of them had the same reaction—disgust written all over their faces. When you finished explaining, you looked up at Shigaraki, and he was already looking at you. His face showed no emotion—no anger, no sympathy. You wanted to know what he was thinking. After all, this was his whole gig. You were there because of him. Before you could say anything to him, he called out to Dabi, Spinner, and Mr. Compress, telling them to come with him.

“Toga, Twice, stay here and hold things down; we’ll be back,” Shigaraki hissed out. You laid your head back on the table; you were still exhausted and needed to rest.

“We’re going to fuck him up, aren’t we?” Dabi turned to walk next to Shigaraki with his hands in his pockets. He smiled evilly, hoping thats what they were going to do for your sake. Dabi wanted to stay back with you, but an order is an order.

“He’ll never be able to touch her again.” Shigaraki growls while walking ahead of the men; his face was calm, but there was a storm inside him. Your anger toward Overhaul has transferred itself to Shigaraki.

---

It was becoming daylight, and Spinner, Dabi, Mr. Compress, and Shigaraki were all in a truck traveling along the highway in route to Tartarus from the hospital that Overhaul was rumored to be at. They had circled back around a few times before they saw their target. A black van with red lights drove onto the ramp of the highway, and Shigaraki signaled to Spinner to get in front of them. Spinner obliged and drove the truck to line up with the van behind them. The back doors of the truck opened, and Dabi released a giant blue flame toward the van. It was as if they had anticipated an attack. Dabi’s flames were met with a sand cloud, and a separate police vehicle drove in front of the black van to protect it. Shigaraki had climbed to the top of the truck and waited for the heroes to show themselves. He jumped off the back of the truck and toward the police car. The sand hero put up a wall of sand that Shigaraki struggled against. Mr. Compass then released a marble that made the police car flip over. Dabi then jumped out of the back of the truck and stopped the sand hero freeing Shigaraki. The van itself was then stopped by Shigaraki’s decay; he broke the windshield of the car and caused the driver to drive the van into a wall. Shigaraki walked to the back of the van and ripped Overhaul out. He was strapped to a foam pad, handcuffed, and wearing a straight jacket. Overhaul caught a glimpse of Shigaraki standing over him, and his eyes widened in fear. Shigaraki was covered in his usual villain attire and had his hands in his pockets while his foot rested on Overhaul’s chest.

“Are you here to kill me?” Overhaul whimpers.

“No, I wouldn’t take that away from Y/N,” Shigaraki chuckles. “She wants you dead,” He leans closer to Overhaul to whisper, “I’m just here to make you pay for what you did.” Shigaraki grabs one of Overhaul’s arms and dusts it. Before it can spread to the rest of his body, Shigaraki takes a knife and cuts it off. Overhaul wails in pain, and Shigaraki calmly says, “This one is for Magne and Compress.” He then shifts his body to Overhaul’s other arm and does the same. Overhaul screams once more, and Shigaraki replies to this with, “And this arm, this arm, if for laying your hands on Y/N. I told you she was mine.” Feeling content with his actions, Shigaraki walks back to the truck with his hands in his pockets.

Dabi listened to his boss's words to Overhaul and got slightly worried when he heard Shigaraki’s possessiveness toward you. Shigaraki knows that you and Dabi slept together, so why hasn’t he removed Dabi’s arms if he truly felt that way?

One thing was for certain: Dabi didn’t want to find out.

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cerisia76 · 11 months

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the character everyone gets wrong

which ship fans are the most annoying?

what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

worst part of canon

worst part of fanon

it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

part of canon you think is overhyped

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

ship you've unwillingly come around to

Okay a character everyone gets wrong in winx club would definitly be... well it's a group of people but I really think people don't really give Wizards of the black circle the credit and recognition they deserve. Maybe it's because they come from season 4 that today more people like to bash but they actually were so interesting as villains. Like to me what makes them stand out is how they don't give a f^ck about the Winx. in the episode where the girls get their believix (still one of my favs) there is a moment where they have total control over the girls and Ogron basically says "don't be afraid they won't do anything to you, all that we want is Roxy". And actually they already told the girls they had nothing against them and well it is actually true. Like Valtor told Bloom he just wanted her to stay out of the way two seconds before making Aisha/Layla blind. Wizards started being really dangerous to the girls when they became an obstacle for them. They don't care about the Winx because they don't care about the Magical Dimension. They have something to do, a mission to complete and it's their goal. They also have one of the most interesting dynamic as a group and I feel people should talk about it more instead of... fangirling over Duman for the part that cares about the wizards. Nothing against him it's just that I feel like he's the least interesting in the group sorry not sorry.

Also Riven and Roy. Really should explain more about Roy. But I think your other questions can help me.

(tumblr had nothing better and as I'm on my computer I don't have my collection of gifs of them)

Which ship fans are the most annoying? Oh a though one because I don't really interact with fans of ships I don't like. However I will have to give the palm to some representative of the Rivusa fanbase and I'm sorry for you all Rivusa non-toxic fans who have to deal with such problematic people who think that defending a ship is insulting people. Also sorry to those who are good but I had many problems with some Bloom x put the name of the villain you prefer fans. Like sometimes I just want to talk but they take everything as an insult like when I ask "how did you come to ship Bloom with Valtor?" they see it has "lol how on earth can you be stupid enough to ship her with the guy responsible for her parents' fate". Once again not everyone but these fanbase were my worst experiences.

Bloom is basically me dealing with toxic fans

A character that the fandom made me hate: This time I have to go with Mirta. I never was a fan of Mirta but the way the fandom praises her made me feel so out of it that everytime I rewatched season one, I was trying to understand why fans loved her so much and the more I was rewatching, the more I hated this poor Mirta. Today i won't say I hate her because I feel like she had a pretty decent arc and a character that is good for a supportive character (not for a permanent member PLEASE DON'T) and she's cute but for a time I really couldn't stand her face because I felt like she was so overrated by the fandom it made her dislikable.

Worst part of canon: I would say the fact that instead of being very clear when they decided to do their soft reboot in season 5n they chose to do things without being clear enough. Plus they kept things from past seasons but with the new timeline it makes no sense and gives so many plot holes. Even if I kinda like season 5, this soft reboot is still the worst part of canon for me. Plus and this is unpopular as hell, Nabu and Layla's love story. I'm sorry to you fans of this ship who love to say it's the best love story of the franchise but I never was able to buy it. It came definitly out of nowhere, still is a part that annoys me in season 3 and was forced and way too fast. If they had introduced Nabu sooner in season 3 or made them meet the group sooner maybe that impression I had of being forced something in my throat wouldn't have been there but it's here.

Obviously I also have to give Rivusa a palm but I would say the worst part of their story is THE FACT THAT THEY GOT BACK TOGETHER IN SEASON 4. They both finally had grow up and were mature enough to realise that they weren't good for each other. But instead of accepting it... well they got back together.

Look how babyboy is adorable here holding this thing (don't really know what it is supposed to be like it's a wall but not a wall) like it's his teddy bear... Adorable.

Worst part of fanon: The way some people can't stop fighting for their headcanons against other people. Like we all have the right to have our headcanons it doesn't mean we should fight. For example I have the headcanon that Timmy and Tecna are an asexual couple and it goes against many of my friends headcanon that Tecna is aroace. I will never fight with them about it because it's an headcanon. Just respect your neighbour and let him ship Driven without pissing him off for no reason.

It's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on Roy. This guy isn't bland and without a personality like some of his haters may say. He's a sweet guy who never liked a girl before and falls in love with his princess who is also dealing with grief and he's respectful enough to not want to piss her off or be too much. If he got along with the girls and the guys even if this season and season 6 criminally lack of Specialist's friendship moments, it's because he's a sunny guy with a great humor and a personality that goes along with people. He's an extrovert who loves to go and talk with people discovering what interests them and who loves to try new things. And this is absolutely not in my headcanons that are really numerous for him, all of this is shown in the show when he's here and people should stop hating on him just because he appeared after Nabu's death. Plus this reason to hate him is also unfair considering he has nothing to do with the writers decision to kill Nabu in season 4 (unpopular opinion: they were right to do this).

He has so few gifs it hurts me.

Part of canon you think is overhyped: Season 3 and Enchantix. Don't get me wrong, the concept and execution of Enchantix was great and I loved it, it's definitly one of the best transformations in Winx Club. But it also has problematic parts that are for me the way Tecna, Stella, Musa and Layla have clothes that are way too over-sexualising them.And I say that with Stella's enchantix being my favourite transformation for her. An yes I know every transformation has this problem at least once but the thing is that here, it's on almost everyone and it's so obvious. People keep saying it's the most incredible transformation and the "only one where they look like fairies" as if weknew what fairies look like. My fairies are Tinkerbell and her friends and Enchantix doesn't look like them. But WHATEVER. It's a good transformation, definitly has the best way to be earned but is that a crime when someone says it's not their favourite? No and we shouldn't see so many comments saying "if his/her favourite transformation isn't Enchantix...." on youtube rankings of the transformations.

But it's also relevant for season 3. The thing is that season 3 is good but wants to do too much at the same time and loses its own timeline. The first part of the season varies from episodes were everything happens at the same time and others where the plot installs itself. Which leads to the second part of the season where everything goes downhill with many boring episodes and a rushed and deceiving ending. I don't get why people praise it so much because objectively it's not better than seasons 1 and 2 and subjectively not than season 4 in my opinion. It looks like the season was being written episode by episode and suddenly they realised they had ten episodes to conclude the season and started doing WTF and rushed endings of arcs. Plus I don't like the Water Stars scenaristic facility. Sorry not sorry.

Let's be honest, if she had the choice, Tecna wouldn't wear it because it's absolutely not practical. And I also dislike how they decided her hair was too short. Magix Winx, Believix and later seasons transformations except Harmonix showed you could do a transformation with her hair not changing from the rest of the season.

Your favourite part of canon that everybody else ignores: For once I'm not gonna go with easy choices like season 4, Wizards of the Black circle or Roy. I'm gonna go with a plot point everybody keep forgetting and that is: Darcy is a fucking romantic girl. Did she chose power over her boyfriend? Yes but it doesn't mean she's not a romantic person. In season 1, the way she falls for Riven everytime she sees him shows how she wants to build something with him. In season 2 she mentions at the start of the first or second episode that she sometimes thinks of a simple life when she was watching that in love couple (it was a movie I think) and her sisters KNOW she is romantic because they keep laughing at her about it. I'm really sad they decided to forget about that later because it made her character more complete. She's kind of a bitch who dreams of power but she also has a soft heart beating for romantic comedies and who sometimes allows itself (the heart) to dream of a romance. With Riven of course.

Ship you'v unwillingly come around to: There are many but I would still say that the one I wish I never saw is Faragonda x Bloom. How gross it is to imagine the influence this woman has on Bloom since she's sixteen turning into a gross love story? I want to forget it. I do ship Bloom with people and considering the only canon Winx pairings I like in the original group are Brandon/Stella and Tecna/Timmy (Flora/Helia is fine but I prefer her with someone who wakes her baddie and flirty side like Anagan for example or Layla). Bloom to me would fit SO WELL with Nabu. Like he is the soft guy who understands her but also the one who's not afraid to tell her she fucked up and who would treat her right and not let her insecurities win because that's what Sky does by NEVER putting a term to Diaspro's fantasy. But this is mostly linked to the writers loving to torture Bloom and Diaspro.

And this is both Bloom after she finally found peace in a relationship and me after finishing to answer these questions by talking WAY too much!

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looneyleyle · 9 months

Text

darlin pt. 3 ~ f. odair

pt. 1 ||| pt. 2 ||| pt. 3

synopsis: the quarter quell has ended, the survivors being taken to either the capital or district 13. finnick, one of the fortunate few to be taken to 13, finds himself separated from his darlin, and he can’t find a way to live on without her.

warnings: hunger games typical violence, inability to cope, mentions of finnick’s past iykyk

words: 3058

third person pov

a mess. that's what finnick was. his days were spent sitting in his room, staring blankly at those dull grey walls. occasionally, he would be dragged out by someone to eat, only to poke at whatever food was on his lunch tray. it was as if his mind shut off, just a corpse walking through the halls of district 13. it seemed like no one could help him. coin, plutarch, katniss, and annie would all try to talk to him, but nothing ever worked. he would give them a hollow smirk and some half-assed joke. he was trying to seem like his normal self, but it wasn't fooling anyone.

the worst part was, he refused to talk about aldera.

after that first day of finding out that she wasn't in 13, if someone would mention her, he would either walk out of the room or scream for them to shut up. he hated their pity, their pity wouldn't bring her back to him.

annie tried to give him some sort of normalcy. she would talk to him about the people back in 4, or stories of them when they were younger, but her words fell upon deaf ears. she would ask what he was thinking about, what was bothering him, but he would always dismiss it. she wasn't the one he needed.

after a while, instead of focusing on his grief, he hyperfixated on missions. attack plans, studying maps, and assessing damages were all that he did.

when it came time to send katniss in for a propo in district 8, finnick got suited up, ready to go. when he got to the hovercraft, however, boggs put his hand out to stop him.

"coin has deemed you unfit to go on any missions until further notice," he told the boy.

"boggs, i'm ready, i've been planning these offensives for weeks, i know where the enemies are, i-"

"you're staying here, and that's an order," boggs commanded. he then looked into the boy's eyes, and his face softened. "i'm sorry kid. we're doing everything we can to find her." finnick's fists clenched. pity. why did everyone pity him? why wouldn't they just fucking do something? instead of picking a fight, finnick turned on his heels and stormed out, going back to those all too familiar grey walls. and there he sat, staring, stewing in his anger, frustration, and long repressed sadness. when the tears started, they wouldn't stop. he wept and wept and wept for what felt like hours. he hugged his pillow, wishing it was the one person in this world who could calm him down. he fell asleep like that, uniform still on, tears pouring out of his eyes while grasping for dear life at the pillow in his arms.

most of district 13 didn't see him again until the air raid. he had holed himself up in his room, only leaving for meals at odd hours of the day. he only left his room, albeit reluctantly, when the alarms went off.

he found himself a bed and sat there, looking around at everyone. the air was full of fear, and yet finnick felt very little. all of these people felt some sort of fear for the possibility that they could lose something, whether it be their friends, family, lovers, belongings, or their lives. the only reason finnick pushed himself out of his room was for his friends. for katniss, for annie, for all the people who had tried being there for him, no matter how epically they had failed.

"hey," a voice started, taking finnick out of his thoughts. "can i sit?" katniss asked, motioning to the spot next to finnick on the bed. he let out a noise of assent before she sat down next to him, beginning to speak her mind. "snow's using aldera to punish you. he's taunting us with them. i didn't understand until just now watching that stupid cat." the boy nodded. he had assumed as much. he felt for katniss. snow had taken from them some of, if not the most important people in their lives. he took away their motivations to live, and without them, they were merely surviving.

"after your first games, i thought the whole romance was an act. we all expected you to continue that strategy. but it wasn't until peeta's heart stopped and he nearly died that..." he stopped. he was teetering too close to the memories of aldera, and his feelings bubbled up in the form of unshed tears in his eyes. "i knew i'd misjudged you. you love him. i'm not saying in what way, maybe you don't even know yourself. but anyone paying attention can see it." katniss was shocked that she managed to get finnick to even talk, let alone show his emotions.

"how do you live with it?" she asked the boy.

"i drag myself out of nightmares and there's no relief in waking up. but... it's better not to give in to it. takes 10 times longer to put yourself back together than it does to fall apart." finnick's tears began to roll softly down his face, his fists balled up tightly. he finally looked katniss in the eyes. when she looked back, she didn't see finnick. she saw a man who had lost his purpose in life, a man who had lost himself by completely giving himself to another. that terrified katniss. love had rendered finnick a zombie. but wasn't she the same? pulling herself out of nightmares, only to wake up to her hellish reality? only helping out 13 to get peeta back?

after the air raid was over, district 13 was oddly quiet. finnick heard nothing of plans or battles or moves or countermoves or anything related to the war waging around them. until a knock came at his door. he got up reluctantly from his bed and opened it, his tired eyes looking over the person in front of him.

"coin? what's up?" he asked lazily.

"finnick, we're flying a hovercraft into the capitol to save the other victors." finnick's entire body tensed.

"when do we leave?" he asked, immediately going back into the room to grab his gear.

"you will not be going. we have a different job for you," she told him, beckoning for him to come with her. he looked at her cautiously, slowly putting the gear down.

"you're not trying to administer me to the med ward again, are you?" he asked. she smiled lightly at him.

"no, not this time." she refused to elaborate further, and so finnick went along with her, not wanting to jeopardize any plans in place to get the other victors.

poked and prodded. just like his time in the capitol. hair being pushed and ruffled and styled every which way, tight and proper garb draped over his shoulders. light makeup being applied to cover up the dark bags under his eyes.

and then, the lights. it was the dead of night, so they blinded him. he had orders to keep talking, no matter what. keep talking so that it's him and only him on the air.

"this is finnick odair. winner of the 65th hunger games. and i'm coming to you from district 13, alive and well. we've survived an assault from the capitol. but i'm not here to give you recent news." he talked slowly, but with confidence. it was different from his usual capitol facade, the one he would slip into when getting sponsors or doing his late night duties. this finnick was serious, but still seemed to be putting on a show. he demanded the attention of anyone watching. all over the districts, leaders of the rebellion sat and watched his propo.

"the truth. not the myths about a life of luxury. not the lie about glory for your homeland. you can't survive the arena. the moment you leave, you're a slave," he continued, finally getting used to the lights in his face. he adjusted himself and took a small breath before continuing.

"president snow used to sell me. or my body, at least. i wasn't the only one. if a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them. if you refuse, he kills someone you love." gasps erupted across the districts, but to one person in panem, the puzzle pieces finally clicked.

"to make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewellery. but i found a much more valuable form of payment. secrets."

as finnick spoke, plutarch got a message from district 8. "district 13? copy district 13, we have some precious cargo headed your way."

"see, i know all the depravity, the deceit, and the cruelty of the capitol's pampered elite. but the biggest secrets are about our good president, coriolanus snow." the blood started to boil underneath finnick's skin, but he forced himself to remain calm, as if he hasn't resented president snow for the past decade.

"such a young man when he rose to power. such a clever one to keep it. how, you may ask, did he do it? one word. poison. he stopped every mutiny before it even started. there are so many mysterious deaths to adversaries. even to allies who were threats. snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. but antidotes don't always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal," the words kept flowing out, the truth seeking any listening ears. finnick would spare no detail, he could go on for days if need be.

"but he can't hide the scent of who he really is. he kills without mercy. he rules with deception and fear. he takes without remorse. his weapon of choice is the only thing suited to such a man. poison. the perfect weapon for a snake."

"snow has taken everything from me and the other victors. he promised us lives of peace and prosperity after the games. instead, we are followed by his pawns to keep us in line, we are pushed to follow his will, forced to sell our bodies, and drowned by the fear that any day, we will come home to find a loved one dead." he took a breath, composing himself. "president snow has taken almost everything from me. my dignity, my happiness, my district, and now? the one person in the world that i truly care about. the woman i love. and for that, i can never forgive him."

as finnick spoke, katniss, plutarch, and the others managed to get through to snow.

"you couldn't run from this... any more than you could have run from the games," snow smiled.

"please. you've won. you've already beaten me. release peeta, johanna, and aldera, and take me instead. i'm who you want, not them," she pleaded. snow's eyebrow quirked upwards ever so slightly.

"ah yes, aldera, the girl from 10..." snow trailed off, looking to someone nearby. katniss, plutarch, and coin all exchanged looks.

"he doesn't have her..." plutarch mumbled. as soon as snow finished their broadcast, katniss started sprinting towards the film crew.

"finnick! finnick!" she yelled. the people filming him tried to shush her.

"he doesn't have her! snow doesn't have aldera, he never did! she got out somehow!" she yelled. finnick felt as if his legs were about to give out.

"what?" he whispered, his eyes trained on katniss, eyes starting to water. the film crew cut the cameras.

katniss and finnick sat in anticipation for hours, just sitting in the rafters, waiting for the hovercraft to come back. they had heard nothing from the rescue team since snow's message. finnick didn't know how to feel. on one hand, she hadn't gone through the torture the rest of the victors in snow's grasp had. on the other hand, she hadn't shown up once since the quell, which could only mean...

no. he wouldn't think about it. he couldn't bare the thought of her climbing limply out of the arena, bloodied and bruised, only to die from starvation or dehydration in the wilderness.

but, if she wasn't in the wilderness, and wasn't in snow's grasp, and wasn't in district 13, then where could she be?

finnick's thoughts were cut off by haymitch's voice.

"they're here, so stop your sulking and head on down," he told the two, katniss immediately springing up and leaving the rafters. finnick remained in his spot, something that haymitch had to comment on.

"i'm not gonna tell you that everything's fine, because i don't believe in lying to you. but, we're not gonna stop looking for her, at the very least to get some closure. coin is about to contact each of the districts to send out search teams." finnick wasn't quite comforted by this. how long had it been since the quell? the likelihood of someone finding her alive at this point wasn't very promising.

with much reluctance, finnick got up and followed haymitch back to civilization. the least finnick could do was check up on the others.

as he got down to where the hovercraft was being unloaded, he watched as the medics worked swiftly, bringing the alive but unconscious peeta and johanna to the med ward. the volunteer soldiers came out, a bit bruised, but nothing serious. finnick was about to turn around and hide back in his room when he saw something. his head whipped around immediately.

he knew that hair anywhere.

his body jolted forward. the loud sounds of his thumping footsteps caused everyone in the area to look at him, including the figure in question. her eyes widened immediately, tears seen from miles away. he pulled her into his arms and didn't let go. it didn't feel real. how was she here? how was she alive? she tried to pull back.

"finn," she started, but he pulled her back in.

"i love you," he rushed out. he wouldn't let another second go by without saying it. "i love you, i love you and i'll never leave your side again," he mumbled into her hair, kissing her head. she laughed, and his body relaxed for the first time in many months. he pulled back to stare at her face. it was dirty, and her cheeks seemed a bit thinner than before, but that was nothing a bath and the cafeteria couldn't fix. he stared into her teary eyes, her bright smile, and for him, the war was over. she whispered those three words back to him, and he rested his head against hers, the tears flowing down his face, running over the widest smile he had ever had grace his face.

"i saw your broadcast, i never knew that-"

"it's fine, it's all in the past now darlin. it's just you and me from now on." the two held each other for what felt like days, as of letting the other go would cause them to disappear.

after that, the pair were inseparable. they had lost time to make up for. it was damn near impossible to get one without the other. at breakfast, meetings, lunch, speeches, dinner, no matter what time it was, they were there, together, hands clasped tightly together. when it came to missions, finnick took a step back, still planning offenses, but never going out into the field. the two had just been reunited, and they weren't ready to be apart again.

while the couple started rebuilding their lives in district 13, the war came to an end. the resistance had seized the capitol. snow and coin were dead. commander paylor was elected president of panem.

with their newfound freedom, most of the victors returned to their home districts, or what was left of them, in the case of katniss, peeta, and haymitch. only beetee chose to move into the capitol after the war, claiming that he had much to do to improve panem.

even with panem in good hands and away from the poisonous reign of snow, most of the tributes refused to step foot into the capitol. there was no love in their hearts for that wretched place. the memories from the games and mentoring were all too much. watching friends, family, mentors, and lovers die in the arena wasn't something they wanted to be constantly reminded of.

as for finnick and aldera? it took them a while to get back on their feet. between the games and aldera's disappearance, the two had a constant fear of losing each other. they remained in district 13 for a while, finding safety and comfort in the military-style bunkers, even after everyone else moved out. eventually, johanna, ever the kind lass, told them to "grow the fuck up" and "go the fuck home". the two decided then, unrelatedly, of course, to go travel through each of the districts, saying hello to old friends along the way.

the last stop of their trip left them in district 4. the moment he stepped out of the train, finnick seemed to glow. it was the place he was raised in, the place where he belonged. he had been trapped underground for the past year, and seeing the sun sparkle over the waves seemed to rejuvenate him. he almost immediately ran for the water, dragging aldera along with him. he all but dove into the water, letting himself truly relax. aldera, while peeved about being forcibly pulled into the water in her clothes, couldn't help but stare at finnick, so happy, so free. this wasn't just the witty finnick that she fell for while mentoring, this was so much more, and it made her fall even harder for him than she could have possibly imagined. the water was an extension of himself, and she wouldn't dare take him away from that.

"let's get married, yeah?" he asked casually, the two standing on the docks, looking out at the water. she "thought" about it for a while, causing him to pick her up and pretend to throw her into the waves. the two laughed in a way they hadn't been able to in a long time, no longer fearing for their lives and running from the capitol's grasp.

"let's do it darlin," she mimicked, unable to stop smile taking over her face.

#finnick odair #finnick x oc #hunger games #fanfic #mockingjay

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