#i'm running to queue before you fade from me

[melminli]

BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev. l next.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo, too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by, you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid, and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you like not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Green Light, red Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment. 

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back. 

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

next.

[cuteandhughesy]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas ╰┈➤ NH13

summary: nico hischier acting as your fake boyfriend to try and get your family off your back this holiday season seems like the perfect solution - or so you thought.

[word count] 14.9k

warnings: SFW! fake dating | friends to lovers | suggestive themes and dialogue | kissing | jealousy | angst | fluff | mentions of anxiety | mature themes and dialogue | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! is this a plot i’ve seen before? absolutely! do i eat it up every time? ABSOLUTELY! hope you guys enjoy my third fic of my christmas special—I cant believe it’s almost christmas 🎄 this was originally supposed to go up on Christmas eve, but i finished it early 😘

🎵 i’ll be home for christmas by michael buble, christmas morning by megan moroney, someone like you by van morrison, run rudolph run by chuck berry, little saint nick by the beach boys, christmases when you were mine by taylor swift, blue christmas by megan moroney, + my only wish (this year) by britney spears

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"I think the only way to solve this is if I jump off the highest mountain in jersey."

bree pauses her stirring hand, glancing at you sternly over her shoulder. "don't jump off anything, y/n/n."

you let out another unsatisfied grunt, a disgruntled noise that has come out your mouth many times since you arrived at your best friend's apartment - and you've only been here an hour.

the sound of the wooden spoon scraping along the metal soup pot starts up again, bree continuing to mix her homemade chicken vegetable soup she coerced you over with.

you watch the blonde with a pout on your slightly chapped lips - but it matches the rest of your appearance, so you're not even bothered that they are dry. resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you can't help but zone out and drown in your own dreadful bubble.

you've been feeling overwhelmed and stressed since last night. it started as you'd just finished eating your sad excuse of a frozen meal dinner, beginning to queue up the next episode of stranger things - when your evening was interrupted with your mom’s call.

"mom? is anything okay?" you answer quickly, brows pulled together in a curious manner.

you can hear her gentle laughter through the grainy line. "don't sound so scared to speak to me, honey. everything is fine."

you sigh. "just wasn't expecting a late night call is all....what's up?"

"well," she singsongs, and you can practically hear her wide smile through the phone. "you remember my friend susan, right? from work?" you hum once, so your mom continues. "well she has a son named scott, and he's around your age."

"why are you telling me this?"

she tuts her tongue like it should be obvious. "they are staying at same same skii cabin resort as us this christmas! and you're still single so I want you to meet each other - get to know one another."

that has you sitting up in a hurry, she's blown wide as you take in your moms words. "mom, no i'm not going to entertain this."

"why not? he's nice and cute-" your moms familiar voice fades into the background, as you can't focus on anything but the swirl of panicked thoughts in your head.

you've been single for three years - three years since your last boyfriend cheated on you with his macdonald's co-worker. honestly his first red flag should've been working at macdonald's at his big age of 28 - you should've broke up with him right then and there.

since then, your mom has been wanting you to get back out there, and 'give her grand babies' - you try to not shutter just thinking about it. she's been trying to get you to meet a million different young men, changing between her friends kids and even random baristas she meets at her local starbucks. and honestly you're just tired of it.

you won't find the love of your life through your mom - and it seems that only you can see the logic behind that.

you'd been looking forward to the few days away from the city for christmas, especially with your boss really coming down on you about upcoming new year business proposals that were honestly out of your job description. now your extended weekend that was supposed to relaxing and festive was tainted by your mom and this mysterious scott dude.

you come back to, your mom still lengthly explaining the christmas plans and scott and everything else in between. you huff anxiously, and before your brain can stop the word vomit that is festering on your tongue, you interrupt her.

"i'm bringing someone to christmas."

the blabbering in your ear comes to a quick stop, your mom going completely silent on the line.  "who?"

you swallow, "my boyfriend."

the conversation went on for a bit longer, and you had blabbed about your fake boyfriend without giving away any type of physical details- heck you even avoided giving him a name. when your mom had asked, you told her that you didn't want to give anything away - the element of surprise much more enjoyable.

you cringe thinking back on it, closing your eyes tightly. you are so screwed.

the front door opens quickly, alerting you and bree to her boyfriends arrival. it's only a few seconds following the thud of his hockey bag hitting the hardwood floor that dougie saunters into the kitchen, hair still damp from his post-practice shower.

he looks up from his phone, finding you sitting with a frown at his kitchen island. "what's up with you?"

this time it's bree who groans out. she takes the spoon out of the soup and sets in on the countertop, spinning on her heels to look at you and her boyfriend properly—without straining her neck. "don't get her started."

you squawk. "bree! you're supposed to be consoling me."

she pouts at you, "I know - i'm sorry." bree swiftly moves towards you, wrapping her small arms over your shoulders sweetly. she smells like broth and caramel perfume, which is an oddly comforting scent. "I just don't like seeing you so stressed."

dougie peeks in the soup pot, humming softly at the sight of the various vegetables swimming among perfectly shredded meat. he turns back to you both, leaning back against the counter as he stares you down. "so are you going to tell me? or do I have to wait for you to leave, which inevitably will have bree spilling her guts."

"dougie!" your best friend screeches, eyeing her boyfriend wildly.

you all but whine, letting your eyes fall closed in pure embarrassment. "I'm screwed." you manage to mumble, one eye peeking open to look over at dougie.

he looks rather amused at your dramatics, and you kind of want to get swallowed up and never be let go. "why?"

you take a deep breath. "because....because I told my mom that I had a boyfriend and was bringing him to christmas."

dougie snorts and bree sends him a warning glare. immediately he stops, playing off the laugh with a small cough. "you don't have a boyfriend."

you eye him irritatedly. "you think I don't know that?" bree, like the most amazing and supportive friend she is, begins gently rubbing your shoulder, grounding you. you take another shaky breath, your earlier pout returning. "I just...my mom was all pushy and wanted me to meet her co-workers son and I just panicked."

bree gently pipes up. "you didn't give him a name or talk about his appearance, y/n/n - it gives you some freedom in trying to find someone. maybe you should re-download hinge and make it known in your bio that you're needing a christmas date."

you pull a face, the thought of scrolling through medacore men who don't meet your ethical standards and are most likely teetering on borderline homophobic doesn't sound appealing - like, at all. "i'm going to pretend I can't go - i'll just tell my mom something came up."

"hold on," dougie steps forward, resting his palms on the island. he looks between you and bree, his brows pulled together as he gathers his thoughts. "you didn't give your mom a name?"

you hum. "or any physical attributes."

a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, and he looks rather pleased with what we thought he's conjured up in his mind. "hear me out here...what If you take nico?"

you blink once. and then you blink again.

behind you, bree gasps. "that's a good idea!"

you shake your head, clearly confused. "he's not going home for christmas?"

dougie shakes his head. "no, the schedule didn't work in his favour, and his parents can't come out for a four day break. he was telling me today he was just going to be alone at his apartment....but maybe he could go with you."

it's....its actually not a bad idea. you like nico, he's always been so kind and sweet anytime you two have been together - which, granted, was quite often. surprisingly enough, nico and dougie were really good friends, and anytime you, bree and him wanted to go out, dougie would have nico join along. it's been like that for a few years, and the dynamic between you and nico was easy.

but...."no, I can't put him through that. you know how my mom is, and she's going to be all over him! and my sister and her husband, and god I can't have my niece getting attached....I just can't."

"you can." dougie hums, pulling out his phone from his sweatpant pocket. "you're just making excuses - nico won't care if your family asks questions. he's a team player who will easily help you with all your problems." he's busy swiping on his phone, barley glancing at you as he talks. "plus, it's not like he'll be out of your life after this - I already know he will be your fake boyfriend as long as you need him to be."

"dougie, no." you sigh.

"yes."

"no."

"too late," dougie hums, "i'm face timing him right now."

you left watching in horror, dougie coming around to your and bree's side of the kitchen island. you squawk, "absolutely no - dougie don't." 

he's setting his phone up against the vase of flowers in the middle of the counter, displaying all three of you on the ringing face time screen. dougie looks at you, and grimaces. "try and look pretty. you look like a mess - c'mon."

bree smacks his arm. "dougie!"

you're not even going to disagree with him, because you do look like a mess. your hair is slicked back with your own oil - too lazy to get into the shower before coming over. your face is bare and you're in the middle of your period, with lingering hormonal pimples littering along your chin and jawbone. all that combined with your anxious eye bags, dry skin and ice cream stained pyjama shirt - well let's just say you've looked better.

your eyes widen as the sound of the call changes, indicating that nico is picking up the phone. "seriously I don't - heyyy nico." your hushed and panicked whisper towards your best friend's boyfriend quickly changes as nico hischier’s face takes over dougie’s phone screen.

"....hey?" he looks confused, and rightfully so. you're sure the last thing he expected with a call from his assistant captain was to be met with not only him, but his sheepish looking girlfriend and her hot mess best friend as well. his eyes move between the three of you, brows pulled tightly. "you guys okay?"

his accent sounds thicker through the phone, voice deeper....it's kind of comforting and as soon as your brain registers that calm feeling, it lets you spew. you begin telling nico all about your situation, but it seems that dougie and bree has the same idea, and all nico can hear is a jumbled sentence.

"y/n needs your help." dougie says, the words barley reaching nico's ears over bree's - "and she's just really stressed." that combined with your pouty lips as you tell him, "and his name is scott - like what kind of name is scott?"

you all come to a stop, eyeing nico through the phone screen. he adjusts the angle of his phone, giving you a glimpse of his location, which seems to be on his couch. "you're going to have to say that again, y/n. couldn't hear you over dougie's loud mouth."

so you tell nico everything - just you this time - starting with getting the phone call, your mom trying to set you up, your fake boyfriend lie and dougie's reason for the facetime. the entire time nico listens, not even interrupting you once as he digests the spoonfuls of information.

you sigh gently, "and dougie shouldn't of called you, nico. I really don't want to ruin your christmas by dragging you into my mess and-"

"i'll help you out." this time, nico does interrupt you, his soothing voice agreeing to the whole fake boyfriend story you'd thrown at him, cutting off the end of your lengthy ramble.

"really? why?"

he shrugs through the screen, a gentle smile beginning to pull on his face. "i'm not doing anything else. you're my friend, y/n, I want to help you out."

the relief that floods through you is ethereal, and you can already feel some of the stress leave your body. "nico, thank you...thank you, oh my god, okay I'll text you the details."

he grins. "looking forward to it."

the phone call ends just as the soup starts to bubble loudly on the stove, which has bree cursing, skipping back towards her food and turning down the burner. as she returns to stirring the mixture, she shrieks happily, glancing back at you. "no hinge needed!"

"you're welcome." dougie chimes playfully, pocketing his phone before he moves to grab three bowls from the cupboard, ready to serve some of bree’s delicious chicken vegetable soup.

although you're feeling stress free about the actual boyfriend part of finding a fake boyfriend— thanks to the devils captain— there is still the matter of having to prep nico for your family, as well as playing pretend with one another in hopes of convincing your family that you and nico are in love.

....and the stress is back, prickling under your skin in a way that has you jittery. you can only just pray nico doesn't get overwhelmed and ditch you on the side of the road on the way up to the lodge, leaving you to fend for yourself while he speeds back to the city.

bree slides the hot bowl full of soup in your direction, plopping the gold spoon into the liquid before she leaves. you thank her gently, and as you dig in into the meaty broth, you begin to create somewhat of a plan for you and your fake boyfriend.

DAY 1

you text nico after leaving bree and dougie's apartment once you had settled back at your place, assuming your usual lounging position on the living room couch. you send him the main details of your family christmas getaway like the name of the resort and it's location, as well as when you'll be leaving and how long you'll be staying.

thankfully, the devils schedule almost perfectly aligned with your families getaway, meaning that nico would be able to spend the entire holiday season with you and your family—he just has to leave early on the 25th for the boxing day game—which you can't yet decide if you're relieved about or stressed about.

regardless, three days after your impromptu facetime call on dougie's phone, you and nico are packed up in his car, backseat full luggage and various wrapped presents— all ready to head up to the ski lodge.

it’s been 5 minutes since nico pulled out of your driveway, and you still haven't said anything other than your initial greeting. the pressure of the day ahead is knawing away at you, turning your stomach into a wave pool of nerves.

the christmas music flows quietly through the speakers, providing a comforting hum in the background. nico keeps switching his gaze from the road to the side of your face, analyzing your anxious eyes as you zone out, nibbling the skin around your thumb nail.

he sighs gently and with a free hand turns the already quiet music completely off. the lack of the original taylor swift christmas song in your ears snaps you out of your daydreaming, looking over at nico with a tight pull to your eyebrows.

"why does your face look like that?"

you frown, "like what?"

"like you've just shoved your nose full of expired smelling salts," nico smirks at his own joke, glancing over at you once again. "seriously what's going on that head?"

you take a deep breath, your mouth opening and closing like a tiny fish—unsure what you want to admit. you don't want to seem ungrateful for nico‘s help by complaining, and you don't want to look stupid and embarrass yourself for being so nervous about spending christmas with your family. after a moment, you let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at nico.

his flickering gaze is soft—comforting—and it has you faltering, head falling back against the head rest with a thud. "I can't lie." nico huffs a laugh, and you almost scoff at the sound. "i'm serious - I can't lie."

"technically, you're not lying."

you eyes widen comically, looking over at him wildly. "what part of this trip isn't based on a lie."

he sighs gently, fingers flicking on the cars turn signal as he approaches the highway lane. nico has always been so nonchalant in your presence, the complete opposite of you at any give moment, and honestly you're envious of that. he glances at you quickly, pulling onto the highway. "I mean, it's not like we are strangers—we're friends."

you don't say anything, too busy trying to understand what he actually means by that. nico smirks easily at you, "so we only have to pretend that we kiss and well....fuck."

you blush. "nico!"

“it’s true.” amused, he looks at you. "and, well, you can't turn red anytime someone makes a suggestive comment.”

groaning, you pull your knees to your chest, creating a spot for you to hide your burning face, tucking your head between your kneecaps. "can't help it." you say, but all nico can hear is your muffled voice making no sense as you talk into your legs.

"it's okay." he reassures you lightly. "so, what's your family like? what do I need to know?" he changes the flow of topic easily, which successfully has you pulling your head up.

"well." you start, voice a pitch higher than normal—contemplating what to say. “my mom she's very.....out there. she's not shy, and her social awareness isn't very high, meaning she doesn't care about strangers or what they think of her." your eyes flicker away from the busy highway infront of you, looking over at nico to gauge his reaction.

he hums, "what else?"

you sigh, eyes finding the road once again. "she also loves me...too much I think. and she always wants what's best for me — even if she thinks that's scott."

"she sounds fun." nico's words take you by surprise, because fun usually isn't the first word that comes to mind after describing your dear mother. you quickly turn your head, but much to your surprise, nico isn't joking. he's being sincere—smiling softly. "honestly she sounds like my mom."

the mention of nico's family has you feeling a bit hallow, and you remember the only reason he's able to help you out is because he couldn't fly out to be with his family. you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling the skin until it feels sore. "i'm sorry about your family, nico. I really wish it would've worked out for christmas."

he shrugs once, glancing back over at you. "it's not your fault. besides, i'm here with you, right? so my christmas is coming together." you deflate slightly, nico's sweet and almost vulnerable words leaving you feeling rather soft. "so who else will be there? besides your mom and this scott guy?"

you huff a laugh, "well I don't know how much of scott we will be seeing now that i'm bringing you, but I do know that my older sister, tammy and her husband brody will be there. along with my niece, taylor - hence the disney princess wrapping paper." you thumb over your shoulder where there are multiple oddly shaped presents, all wrapped in disney paper.

nico snickers, sending you a teasing look. "thought you were just wrapping your own gifts."

"nico!" you laugh sweetly, "you’re ridiculous."

he smiles. "okay, okay. how old is your niece?"

"she just turned 6, back in november." you hum, leaning over slightly to turn the radio back up—only at volume 2—letting the familiar jingles add to the ambiance of the snowy jersey weather.

one of nico's brows raise. "so you've got a birthday twin?"

"wha-how do you know my birthday is in november?" you're clearly baffled, looking at nico like he just told you he met your long lost twin.

he glances at you wildly. "I don't have a brick for a brain! c'mon y/n/n, just because dougie is a stupid hockey player doesn't mean I am."

a dig at your best friends boyfriend never fails to make you chuckle, and you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, keeping yourself warm. although nico was joking around, you still aren't sure how he knew the month you were born in—how he remembered when your birthday was. it's just not something you thought nico would take note of. you don't do big parties for yourself, and you don't even post to social media—bree being one of the only people to celebrate you online.

your laughter dies down gently. "i'm just suprised that you'd remember."

his lips tug downwards in the beginning of a frown. "why would I forget?" nico's eyes flicker to yours once again, holding your gaze with a soft and warm expression. you take in a shaky breath, unable to find yourself wanting to look away from nico. his words, although nothing that deep, feel like the bottom of a warm lake, heating your chest with his question. it's a bare minimum that you've yet to experience with any boyfriend, real or fake.

he clears his throat quickly, eyes flickering away from your face and back through the snowflake covered windshield. "okay, what are our rules here? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with any of this fake dating stuff."

"oh. right, ummmm-" you blink, trying to recover from the abrupt shift in conversation and shift in your heart. "well to start, any question that my family asks about us and how we met, just tell them the truth. no need to fabricate some elaborate story—especially considering i've brought you up before...god my mom is going to die when she sees you." you mumble the last part to yourself, already picturing your moms face when you tell her the nico you're dating is also your friend nico.

he doesn't hear the end of your scentence, and only nods understandably, switching lanes. "got it."

you continue, "and this relationship between us is a new thing-- i'm talking’s within the last two months new. if they ask we say that we were just testing the waters of our relationship. and that gives me an excuse of why I hadn't told my mom about us before tuesday."

"that's good" nico hums appreciatively, clearly impressed with the little plan you'd made for you both. "plus it will make us look less insane when we are all over other and acting lovey dovey. that it’s just the honey moon phase."

your belly swoops, and your eyes widen in a slight panic. "why would we be all over each other?"

nico looks almost dumbfounded at your rushed question, his brows practically touching the edge of the hockey branded beanie sitting across his forehead. "because we are supposed to be dating."

you feel a little stupid in that moment, and when the end of nico's reminder is accompanied by a teasing smile you begin to feel very embarrassed. you try not to face palm, clearing your throat. "right, duh! that makes sense then." nico nods in amusement, which really has you wanting to face palm.

wanting to get back to the earlier discussion of rules, you hum in continuation. "I think cuddling and stuff is fine, right? like we can cuddle on the couch and hold hands in town."

"if you're comfortable with that." nico says, shooting you a glance, taking in your face to try and dissect your expression��trying to find an answer on your face before you say anything.

you laugh once, and even that sounds weird—no wonder nico keeps looking at you. "why wouldn't I be?"

"you're turning red just talking about it."

you face falls. "i'm going to throw myself out of this car."

"no, no." nico chuckles. "any other rules you want to lay down?" his eyes twinkle with playfulness as he shoots you another glance. "like what about kissing?"

obviously you blush because what. you don't let yourself react in the way your body desperately wants to, instead you keep your posture the same, humming in thought. "we don't need to kiss unless absolutely necessary."

once again, your eyes fall back to the driver's side, looking at nico as you wait for his response. you watch him smirk softly, eyes still on the busy roadways as he answers. "sure."

the rest of the car ride is filled with easy conversation and multiple impromptu karaoke sessions— nico laughing anytime you turn the music up and claim that it's impossible to not sing along to a justin bieber christmas song. the easiness of the whole dynamic between you and nico has you feeling much more at ease than you'd been when he first picked you up, and the idea of bringing nico to meet your family is becoming increasingly less stressful.

that is until your mom open the door, squealing in excitement at the sight of you and nico parking in the un-shovelled driveway of the rented ski cabin—waving at you both—your stress levels start to rise back up.

you swallow nervously, the sound of the car engine shutting off setting in your ears - there's no escape now.

"hey," nico mumbles, gathering your attention. he gently reaches towards you and gives your shoulder a reassuring and grounding squeeze. "don't worry too bad. it'll be okay."

all you can muster is a nod, watching through the front windshield as you sister peeks over your moms shoulder, her perfectly styled hair blowing in the wind.

"wanna get the bags now?"

"no," you finally speak, shaking your head. "save them for later just incase we need an escape route."

he chuckles. "okay dramatic - let's go."

with another encouraging nod from the devils captain, you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting out the car along with nico. at the sight of your face, your mom screams, waving at you like a crazy woman from the porch—the woman didn't even put on a coat before coming outside, leaving the door wide open behind her. "y/n, honey! you're here!"

"i'm here." you make your way up the pathway, nico's hand providing a ghostly pressure on your lower back as he trails behind you. "merry christmas momma."

she scoops you into a tight hug, kissing the side of your head repeatedly until it feels like all her lipgloss has transferred to your hairline. "merry christmas! and oh, honey don't be rude—introduce us to this handsome man." over your shoulder, your mom catches sight of nico and his ridiculously charming smile.

he looks so relaxed and happy that you're jealous. you're also jealous that nico manages to look that good after spending 2 hours in a car—but that's not important.

you quickly wrap your arm around nico's torso, bringing yourself into his warm side. nico easily follows suit, wrapping his hoodie covered arm around your shoulders, giving you another comforting squeeze. you smile—extra big—at your mom, rubbing your free hand over nico's covered stomach. "right of course, this is nico. my boyfriend."

recognition flashes across her face, eyes darting between you and your fake boyfriend—who you are currently cuddling with on the cold porch in front of your mom, an action that is very out of the ordinary for you. you can only pray she doesn't think too hard about everything. suddenly, she gasps. "nico?! like your friend nico?"

you scrunch your nose through a faux smile, "that's the one!"

she laughs, "is that why you were so secretive over the phone? so it would be a suprise?"

"yes." you say through gritted teeth, arm tightening around nico's muscular torso, grounding yourself through your white lies.

your mom beams again, hands clutched to her chest as she admires you both - granted your shivering and your toes are borderline frozen.

"it's nice to finally meet you, ms. y/l/n. i've heard so much about you." nico says easily, his accent perfectly complimenting his relaxed tone and demeanour. he removes his arm from your shoulders, and you fight the urge to pout from the lack of warmth, watching as nico puts his hand out for your mom.

she dismisses the formality, moving towards him with her arms wide open. "oh, honey, please call me ella - and i've heard so much about you, I can't believe you're finally here."

your eyes close in embarrassment, face flushing a deep pink as your mom embraces nico.

"mom, let them come in! it's freezing." your sisters honey laced voiced calls out from inside the house, and you can see her making her way back towards the front door, taylor on her hip as she easily saunters over.

your niece happily shouts as she catches sight of you, begging to be put down. tammy obliges, but tells her to wait until you get inside, not wanting a coat and shoeless toddler to walk onto the wintertime porch. behind her, your brother-in-law joins you, smiling and waving at you through the open door before pressing a kiss to your sisters head.

"yes, of course." you mom smiles, turning on her heels and walking through the door. "c'mon in you two, before you turn into ice."

too late—you think.

right before you and nico can pass the threshold into the log cabin, you mom puts her hand out, stopping you with a playful smile ghosting her face. you sister looks borderline fed up, closing her eyes at your moms actions, and brody just looks excited.

confused, you quirk a brow. "what's happening right now? you all look very weird."

you mom points up, "honey, you're under the mistletoe!" you smile falters, your eyes slowly moving up until you catch sight of the array of green mistletoe leaves dangling above you and nico. "it means you have to kiss - house and mistletoe rules."

nico laughs awkwardly beside you, warm eyes also on the festive plant.

"mom, no." you follow suit, chuckling through your discomfort as you set your sights back on your mom.

her brows pull together, a frown overtaking her face. "what, why not? just a little smooch?"

"they just got here, mom. at least let them take off their boots before you make them get to business." you sister—ever the saving grace—tries to move on from the discussion, sending you a wide eyed look behind your moms back.

you nod in thanks, "yeah. don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"

"why would that be inappropriate?" she gawks. "nico doesn't mind, do you?"

"I mean-"

"i'm your child, and you just met him." you interrupt whatever people-pleasing answer nico was about to spew, looking at your mom with an expression mixed up of amusement and bewilderment.

"c'mon, y/n," brody chimes in playfully. "it's not like we are asking you to suck his-" tammy smacks her husbands chest, a warning for him to not finish that scentence. "ouch, babe!"

"little ears." your sister reminds, gesturing to your six year old niece, who is still bouncing on her heels, desperate for you to get inside so she can steal you away. "don't egg her on." tammy is talking about your mom, who is still clueless on why making you kiss your supposed boyfriend when they just meet him is a bit weird.

the whole situation is stressful and overwhelming, and you kind of just want to turn around and make a run for the car. as if nico can sense your anxiety, his grip around you—now with his arm around your waist—tightens ever so slightly, reminding you that you're okay.

you swallow nervously. "let's not make nico-"

you're interrupted by the firm press of nico's lips on your cold cheek, kissing your face gently. the action seems to momentarily silence your family, but soon you can hear your mom cheer happily, mumbling something about how she 'should've taken a picture to send to your aunt shirley'

but you’re too distracted to register anything other than the lingering kiss against your cheek, and there's no doubt that your flesh is warming right under nico's lips. he pulls away, an easy smile taking over his face—like he's not even affected.

brody snickers, "see, y/n? wasn't so hard."

it seems that everyone is satisfied after that, your mom too busy texting on her phone to stop either of you from coming inside—thank god because you're pretty sure the inside temperature has dropped 10 degrees from the door being open.

as soon as you shut the door, taylor comes skipping over, her gapped tooth smile wide as she looks up at you. surprisingly, she doesn't attack you with hugs, but instead stops in front of nico. she looks up at him curiously, her hands resting on her tiny hips. "who are you?"

her bluntness has you laughing, even more so as you take in nico's amused expression, looking down at your niece softly. he bends down to meet her level, placing his hand out infront of her. "I'm nico, i'm your aunties boyfriend. what's your name?"

he already knows her name, but the formality of it all has you melting slightly, watching the interaction with an amused look. her tiny fingers splay over his palm, doing her best at shaking nico's large hand. "i'm taylor. you’re my auntie y/n's boyfriend?" her bright eyes flicker between you and nico curiously.

"I am."

she hums. "but you're too pretty for her."

you gasp, hiding your laughter. joining nico in his crouched position, you drag your giggling niece into your chest, lightly tickling her torso. "excuse you missy!"

"I don't know, taylor. I think your auntie is actually too pretty for me."

"yeah." she shrugs lightly, finally breaking free of your tickling. taylor shuffles back towards nico, "do you want to see my stuffies?"

"you have stuffies?" nico beams, "of course I want to see them." it's instantly that taylor grabs nicos fingers, leading him through the log cabin and presumably towards whichever room she's loaded off her stuffed animals in. you can hear taylor's excited babbling all the way down the hall, accompanied by nico’s enthusiastic responses as they disappear out of sight.

"honey can you go make sure she doesn't bore him to death. I can picture the tea party now." your sister sighs, looking at her husband expectantly.

"yeah," brody then looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his expression that you have grown to recognize. already, you're rolling your eyes. "I can't believe you're fucking an nhl captain y/n. good for you."

"go!" tammy hides her laugh behind her hand, but you can still hear her amusement through the muffled sound. brody waggles his eyebrows in your direction, further teasing you as he leaves.

thankfully your mom had slipped into the kitchen in the time you and nico had been talking with your niece—saving you from facing her after your brother-in-laws ludicrous comment. you can hear brody mutter something along the lines of 'course i'll go talk to the professional athlete, fuck kinda question is that?' — but you can't be so sure.

tammy grabs onto your arms, guiding you into the large, high ceiling living room. from what you've seen of the ski lodge so far, you're very impressed. it's got that rustic christmas feel that reminds you of your childhood, with grand windows and entry ways that overlook the winter scenery. with only a 5 minute drive to the hills, the resort was practically perfect.

you let your sister plop you onto the worn leather couch, the plaid throws scrunching behind your back as they slip around. tammy immediately sits down beside you—close enough that you're touching knees—facing you with wide eyes. "what the hell."

you make a face. "what?"

she scoffs a gentle laugh, eyes darting all over your warm face. "how long have you been crushing on nico?"

"what-what do you mean?" you blush timidly. you're unsure why the question has you feeling nervous—feeling caught—because nico is just a friend. a ridiculously generous friend who immediately agreed to spend christmas with your family to help you out, and is currently playing with your niece just because she wanted him to....its fine, really.

"well you've told me and mom that he was just a friend—you've been saying that for years and now you're dating? what's that about."

"oh, right." you really need to get a hang of the whole fake boyfriend thing, because the amount of times just today you've already forgotten is just criminal, and you're practically begging to get called out. you huff a gentle laugh, tucking your loose hair behind your ear shyly. "I don't know something just....changed."

"clearly." tammy laughs brightly. "how long have you been together?"

you swallow nervously, thinking back to the discussion with nico in the car about this very question. "only a few months. we kept it secret just in case...you know—bree and dougie are the only ones who knew."

tammy nods understandably, but a disgruntled expression quickly forms on her perfectly blushed face. "i'm kind of offended you told dougie before me."

"if it makes you feel any better, dougie was the one who set us up - so I didn't technically tell him anything." the twisted truth comes easily, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for that one.

"fine. I feel a little better." tammy smiles, shifting her body so that she's tucked against your side, loungewear covered legs bent towards her chest as she relaxes into you. her blonde hair tickles your neck as she tilts her head up towards you, eyeing you with a playful undertone. "he's cute."

"hey! hit on your own man." you try and push her off of you gently, but tammy doesn't allow it, wrapping her arms around you tighter as she laughs.

"i'm just stating the obvious, y/n/n." her nickname for you has you feeling warm and fuzzy, settling back into your cuddly position. you and tammy have always been close, even with your 6 year age gap. you've always done everything together, and told one another all your secrets—so you feel guilty for not telling her about nico, even though it's not real.

"you really like him?" tammy's question is a gentle and sweet whisper, looking up at you like she just knows.

you nod, probably too fast and too enthusiastically—but thankfully tammy isn't paying attention to that, only listening to your words and watching the way your eyes change into a more relaxed and emotional state. "of course," you breathe, smiling. "I mean...he's always been really sweet and kind. always making sure I feel comfortable in a crowded room, checking in on me when he hasn't seen me in a couple days. and well, just today he's made me the most relaxed i've felt in a long time...." you trail off, clearing your throat gently. "sorry, god i'm blabbering."

tammy shakes her head softly, gently grabbing a hold of your hand. "it's okay. it's sweet."

"auntie y/n! look at nico!" the tiny and shrill voice of taylor interrupts the rather tender moment, but thankfully it allows you take take a calming breathe and let your heart rate turn back to normal. your niece skips down the hall, dragging nico behind her as they round into the living room.

the sight of nico has you stifling laughter. "oh...wow."

nico smirks, hands held out as if he was showing himself off. the princess aurora tiara nestled in his brown hair catches the setting sun, sparkling in the dimming light. that combined with the bright pink lipstick smeared around his mouth and the lime green tutu that is 5 sizes too small for a professional athlete around his hips is just too much. "handsome right?"

you hum, nodding sarcastically as he gives you and tammy a spin—showing off taylor's work. "oh yeah."

when nico faces you again, he winks—so quickly you're not even sure if it happened. it has your face warming once again, your sister nudging her pointed elbow into your side as she wordlessly teases you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

after a very amusing hour of dress up—which of course you got dragged into—you all had dinner, thanks to your mom and her random bursts of energy that allow her to cook up roast dinners every other day.

dinner went surprisingly well, and nico seemed to fit into the family dynamic nicely. it was a weight lifted off your chest as you watched him easily discuss sports with your brother in-law and excitingly answer all of your moms borderline intrusive questions. it's full of laughter and honestly you're surprised at how well everything seemingly is going—it's a relief you didn't think you'd get to experience this christmas.

after a long travel day for you and nico, you both decide to retire to bed early, leaving your sister and your mom in the living room— your mother shouting out a general explanation of which bedroom is yours as you go.

you're not sure what you were thinking, but the sight of the large bed in the middle of the room has you feeling nervous, stomach swooping at the thought of having to share a bed with nico. you suppose you believed that some part of your mom still pictured you in highschool with a boyfriend and would make you and nico sleep in separate rooms or beds.

clearly not.

the bed looks absolutely heavenly though, with lots of fluffy pillows and a nice duvet with complimenting throw blankets draped over the corner—you can't wait to sink in and pass out.

nico, who had gone and got your luggage right after dinner, drags both of your suitcases towards the dresser, the gentle click of the handle sliding back into place echoing throughout the room. he turns back to you, "I can sleep on the floor if you're uncomfortable."

your eyes snap away from the luscious bedding and over to nico—he must’ve seen your blank stare. you shake your head quickly, "no - no, we are adults. i'm not going to make you sleep on the floor."

you can practically see the relief on his face and in that moment you're completely convinced that nico would've set up camp on the rug if you asked him to.

you continue, ignoring the weird flutter in your stomach. "plus my mom will probably burst in here every morning to wake us up and I don't want to make up some lie about why my boyfriend is sleeping on the floor instead of in the bed."

"of course." he chuckles, the quiet sound settling through the warmly lit bedroom comfortably. "what side do you want?"

you snicker, waving your hand as if you're trying to appear nonchalant. "oh, i'm not picky."

nico eyes you, one brows raised in question as if he can see right through your attempt at coming across easy-going—you've never even been close to that. "are you lying?"

your shoulders deflate. "yes."

he laughs again, watching as you make your way over to the left side of the bed, tossing your phone in front of the pillows as if you were marking your territory. "it's furthest from the door." you hum like it's obvious, looking at nico with timid eyes.

"sure." he hums softly, eyes lingering one yours for a moment longer before turning away.

nico has his back turned to you, digging through his carry-on in search of his toiletry bag. you watch the way his muscles move, his compression shirt giving you the perfect view of the ripples and hard work he's put into his body. you've never really noticed how in shape nico is—I mean sure you've like noticed he's got muscles because he's a professional hockey player...but you've never appreciated them like you are right now.

"y/n?"

you blink. "huh?"

nico smirks, and you instantly realize he's caught you checking him out. you blush wildly, trying your best not to collapse into an awkward puddle. "I asked if you want to use the bathroom first."

you clear your throat, "no go ahead."

he gives you another knowing smirk before disappearing into the on suite bathroom (which, holy, how nice is this place), travel toiletry bag and a new pair of sweatpants tucked under his arm. as soon as the door clicks shut, you let out a deep breath—one you hadn't realized you'd been harbouring.

thankfully you hadn't worn makeup today, knowing that you’d be travelling—the feeling of being stuck with makeup on your face during the couple hour drive here sounded like a living nightmare. so while nico is busy in the bathroom you quickly change into your christmas red striped pyjamas, shoving your dirty clothes back in your suitcase before nico can see.

the door opens again just as you locate your toothbrush, revealing nico is his team branded sweatpants and...oh he's not wearing a shirt. you swallow heavily, eyes quickly flicking over the expanse of his muscular torso. "bathrooms free." he says, easily moving towards the bed.

you nod. "yeah, thanks."

right before you can shut the door, he calls your name, stopping you in your rather frantic pursuit into the bathroom—which is lingering with the scent of nico's cologne. he smiles at you playfully. "i'll keep the bed warm."

that's it - you're going to drown yourself in the toilet.

DAY 2

you managed to not drown yourself last night—shockingly enough. after nico's fluttering eyes and stomach swooping tease last night, you'd made some stupid joke, one that you can't even remember—you're pretty sure you blacked out. you shut the bathroom door quickly, taking as many deep breathes as you felt applicable.

the entire time you'd been brushing your teeth, you just kept going through calming mantras in your head, desperately trying to grasp ahold of the shit show inside your head. thankfully the rest of the night was easy—easy because as soon as your head hit those inanely comfortable pillows you were out.

the reason for waking up this morning—like expected—was because of your mother, who loudly entered your and nico's room with a tinsel covered sweater and bright smile. "wake up love bugs. taylor wants us all to go into town and look at the trees together!"

you're then hyperaware that nico is obviously still without a shirt, and you happen to be tucked against his bare chest like your life depended on it. his peck, although it doesn't look it, is a surprisingly comfortable pillow. your body stiffen's against him, but before you can roll away, nico tightens his grip around you, keeping you in place.

"give us a few minutes." you manage to tell her, practically rigid against the devils captain. "nico isn't wearing pants." you can hear him make a noise of protest beside you, pinching your hip between his fingers.

"take your time you two!" she sing songs, leaving the room with as much pep in her step as usual. as soon as the door clicks closed, you push off nico, but he doesn't let you get too far, fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you.

"why'd you tell your mom i'm don't wearing pants?"

"I panicked."

"you're ridiculous—you know she's going to think we had sex now." his amusement is clear, and although it's at the expense of his dignity, nico is enjoying the humor of it all.

you shrug, slipping out of the bed. "hate to break it to you but they already think that."

through the mirror you left your bag in front of, you watch nico eye you from the back, his brows pulled curiously. "and why's that?"

"didn't you know? i'm secretly this like crazy minx who brings different boys to family trips and-" you're interrupted when nico tosses a pillow towards you, his laughter echoing throughout the room.

"get dressed freak."

—

you think one of your favourite things about being around nico is that no matter how his comments make your stomach swoop and how his gentle lingering eyes leaves your heart pounding, it's always easy to speak with him and just...be his friend.

which you suppose is normal with friends—you think?—its kind of hard to tell. you've only been close with your sister growing up, and then when you met bree in college she became your only other companion. when bree met dougie and inevitably started dating him, it opened up this new world to you; going to events and games, meeting so many people all with different personalities and backgrounds.

meeting nico was different though, because unlike the catalog of people that had come in and out of your life, nico was a constant. in the four years of knowing him, he's always managed to be that person—that friend—you felt you'd been missing. despite always playing nonchalant about your relationship with nico, dismissing him to be just a casual friend, you did really like him and cherish that friendship...and it kind of scares you.

after you moms abrupt wake up call, you and nico quickly got ready for the day, bundling in your warmest clothes to bare the chilly downtown weather—granting your nieces christmas tree browsing wishes.

the town is decorated beautifully, with stunning icicle lights dripping from every building, red ribbon wrapped around poles and pulled into bows at every corner, and the trees—filled with various sized and shaped ornaments that perfectly encapsulate the christmas season.

it feels like something out of a hallmark movie with the gentle pressure of nico's hand in yours, guiding you both behind taylor as she excitedly makes you look at everything. your sister and brody watch in amusement, very used to their daughters excitable personality. and of course your mom makes you and nico pose for hundreds of photos, because she has to 'capture the beautiful moment and the beautiful couple.'

she evens asks for you and nico to kiss—again—but just before you have to make up another excuse, brody chucks a snowball right at your chest. you immediately start hurling them back at your brother-in-law, distracting everyone from another non-kiss moment between you and nico.

after a few hours in town you all head back to the lodge, stomachs ready for some warm food to heat up that achy cold emptiness.

you place the serving tray full of freshly buttered buns in the middle of the table, next to the sour cream and shredded colby jack cheese—both necessities with your moms homemade chilli.

on the other side of the table, nico places one of the last bowls, the ceramic dishes clanking together—it's a peaceful noise, one that's often heard in kitchens. his eyes suddenly flicker towards you, and when he catches your stare a slinky smile curves at his lips. "are you judging my placement right now?"

the tease—so mundane and playful—has your smile growing, butterflies tickling the lining of your growling stomach. "never."

his gaze narrows, "well i'm definitely judging your butter abilities—that spread is so uneven."

you gasp, "think you could do better, hischier?"

"oh," he laughs, "I know I could."

you smirk, picking up one of the grapes sitting loose in the fruit bowl at the end of the counter, tossing it in nico's direction. but like the coordinated athlete he is, catches it in his mouth, chewing the crunchy grape slowly—winking at you while he chews.

"y/n," your mom looks at you over her shoulder, "do you mind just finishing adding the herbs? I gotta run upstairs quick."

"sure." you hum, making your way over to the stovetop, taking the long handled wooden stirring spoon from your mom. she thanks you with a squeeze on your arm before waltzing out of the kitchen, disappearing up the stairs.

as you begin twirling the utensil through the thick chilli, you feel nico come up next to you, his chest brushing against your arm. "why are you stirring it like that?"

you look up at him with wide eyes, your amusement clear. "you are just tearing my cooking apart today."

he laughs, "you're not cooking anything. you're simply just spreading and stirring."

a noise similar to a scoff falls from your mouth, and you tear your gaze away from nico quickly. "i'll spread something all right." you mutter with faux irritation, turning your shoulder away from him.

nico laughs again, chest rumbling against your skin. "that sounded dirty." his forearm wraps around your torso, holding you against his chest.

you're momentarily speechless with the feeling of nico touching you so intimately. your slow stirring comes to a stop, the end of the wooden spoon almost falling into the pot—but you don't notice. your head slowly falls backwards, resting just under nico's collarbone. "what are you doing?" you ask quietly, looking up at him.

nico leans down, his lips brushing against your ears. "what does it feel like i'm doing?" his breath is warm on you and you feel a static travel over your body—from your ears, down to your neck and shoulders, even reaching your toes.

"it feels like you're trying to hit on me." your words comes out breathily, barley reaching your own ears.

"maybe I am," he shrugs, and like he didn't just send your heart plummeting to your stomach, nico says, "your sister is watching us."

discreetly your eyes dance towards the large living room where you catch a glance at tammy—who is trying to not make it look obvious as she stares at you both lovingly, a cheesy smile on her face.

"so the only reason you're touching me is because of the audience?—that's a bit freaky, even for you nico."

he pinches your side lightly, which sends you squirming backwards, further into his embrace—chilli and herbs long forgotten. "i'll take any excuse to touch you, y/n."

nico looks down at you warmly, that boyish grin on his face that makes him look so warm and cuddly. you feel your face heat up at his insinuation, and you look away from his playful expression, bowing your head so you're looking back to the chilli.

"you're so pretty when you blush," nico mummers against your skin, pulling you back to his chest.

your blush deepens, a light laughter bubbling through your chest as you playfully push him away. "you're distracting me."

before nico can say anything else, the distant voice of your mother approaches. "and this is the kitchen! isn't it just so beautiful susan? I mean not just the lodge but the whole resort."

susan? who the hell is—oh my god.

nico watches your face drop, your eyes darting towards the kitchens entryway as the voices grow closer, this susan lady answering your mother just as enthusiastically.

he's quickly back at your side, a gentle hand brushing against your lower back. "what's wrong?" nico's question is hushed—determined.

you're honestly surprised that you can hear his whisper over the blood rushing in your ears. the rush of anxiety that pumps through your blood is overwhelming, and the reason you'd brought nico to your families christmas vacation comes trampling back. you swallow roughly, "susan...she's my moms friend and-"

"guys, this is my friend susan and her son scott!" your moms chipper tone halts your scentence, you and nico watching silently as your mom gestures to the unexpected company.

scott is...actually not that bad to look at—which is a gold star on your moms part. the dark haired man is standing merely few feet away from you as he moves to greet tammy. he's got that finance bro look to him, with a crisp button up shirt underneath his puffer vest—why men insist to wear vests inside is something you'll never understand.

he greets brody like a typical male would, bringing him in for a quick slap on the back—a smile on his face that shows his perfectly white teeth.

"y/n, honey this is scott." you mom singles you out, which of course she does, pointing towards scott with a wink in your direction.

you can feel nico stiffen against your back, his forearm snaking back around your waist. before you can think, you let your hand rest over nico's, interlocking your fingers between his resting against your torso.

"nice to meet you, y/n." he greets with a grin. "i'm scott. i've heard so much about you."

"you too, scott." you smile politely. "this is nico-"

"her boyfriend." nico finishes your scentence firmly, the hand that wasn't around your body jutting out on the other side of your body for a handshake. 

scott breathes a laugh, shaking his hand. "boyfriend, huh? lucky guy." briefly scott's eyes flicker back towards you, eyeing you with a look you can't decipher. you feel yourself shrinking further back into nico, seeking that comforting aura that is the devil's captain.

"very much so." he agrees firmly, squeezing the flesh of your hip. there's a tense moment of eye contact between the two men, almost like a wordless battle of alpha male energy—which isn't very like nico.

scott hums curiously. "you look really familiar. do I know you from somewhere?"

"must have one of those faces." nico answers modestly, shrugging his shoulders once.

tammy waltzes into the kitchen, followed by her husband who is holding taylor in his arms. hearing the tail end of the conversation, brody pipes in with a quick laugh. "he looks familiar cause he's the devils captain dude—we are in the presence of jersey royalty."

"a professional athlete?" scott questions, that curious but condescending tone still laced in his voice. "bit unstable, no? unpredictable with trades and that?"

"can be. thankfully i've been lucky enough to have been with the devils since 2017."

"lucky indeed." once again, scott's eyes flicker back to you—giving you that awkward and uncertain feeling.

sensing the tension, tammy quickly intervenes. "taylor did you want to show scott and susan your stuffies before dinner is plated?"

taylor glances towards the two guests. "no." then her tiny brown eyes move towards you and nico, and instantly she's skipping towards you both. "nico can you sit beside me at dinner?"

something prideful blooms in your chest at taylor's request and dismissal of scott and his rather uncomfortable presence. "I don't know taylor," you begin teasingly, "I wanted to sit beside nico first."

she laughs, her adorable toddler giggle like music to your ears. "how about we both sit with nico."

you hum in faux thought. "should we ask him? see what he thinks?"

"yes." she giggles.

nico, who has obviously heard the entire interaction, pretends like he was unaware of the conversation happening quite literally in front of him—he ponders the question playfully, index finger tapping against his chin. when he tells taylor that he will sit with both of you, her tiny face lights up, and you can't help the way yours does as well.

dinner is served very quickly after, brody on serving duty as he fills every bowl with a hefty amount of chilli. the dinner runs relatively smoothly, saved for a few condescending questions from scott asking about only nico. for somebody who was seemingly trying to get to know you—despite having a boyfriend—scott seems to be really interested with the man beside you rather than you yourself.

thankfully only an hour after dinner and enduring painfully boring conversation with susan and scott, they end up leaving to go back to their lodge, and thank god because you desperately are ready for sleep by that point—excusing yourself and nico as you head towards the bedrooms for another much needed nights rest.

you pull the duvet back, creating enough space for you to climb in.

nico follows suit, slipping under the cool flannel sheets. "scott seems..."

you interrupt his trailing thought. "like an asshole?"

"yeah." he breathes. "truly what is that guys deal?"

"I don't know." you roll onto your side, facing nico with a huff. "I can't believe my mom still invited them to dinner. even though susan is supposedly her friend—who, by the way i've never heard of before tuesday. I thought she would've at least...I don't know? respected my boundaries? is that fucked up to say?"

nico shakes his head against the pillow. "no, it's not."

you groan, your irritation clear. "and then when she first introduced us and she winked at me? like hello, what is that about? because as far as she's concerned i'm clearly not looking for a relationship. I brought you here for this exact reason and-"

"hey," nico breathes gently, gathering your attention by running his hand over your pyjama sleeve covered arm. "it's okay, you're okay. I understand that you're feeling stressed and frustrated but don't get in your head about this."

you take a deep breath, nodding.

nico continues, "I don't think she had any malicious intentions with inviting them to dinner. I think she was pleasing people—like you would."

"I just wish her people pleasing didn't involve a literal walking bag of crap."

nico breathes a quiet laugh at your insult. "she just wants what's best for you, y/n—like you said. she doesn't realize that it's making you uncomfortable and she's too distracted by it all to notice that scott is 'a literal walking bag of crap.'"

your lip tugs upwards slightly.

"you should talk to her about it."

you groan, face rolling into the fluffiest part of your pillow. "I think as my boyfriend you should talk to her for me."

"i'm not actually your boyfriend." he laughs.

you scoff. "way to ruin the mood."

nico's smile is barley visible through the dark bedroom, but you can still see it, and the sight had you following suit, a grin taking over your face. he rests his head on his bicep, facing you. it all feels so intimate and precious and you never want to forget it.

your heart beat feels like it's bordering on dangerously fast—making you feel the best kind of nervous. you're glad the room is dark because you blush, clearing your throat. "i'm so happy that you're here nico. I don't know what I would've done today if you weren't with me."

his smile falters slightly as he swallows thickening salvia, eyes trained on your face softly through the moonlit room. "i'm happy i'm here too..with you."

DAY 3

you peer down the snow covered hill, gnawing on your lip in an unsure manner. "does it seem bigger from up here?" your hands wrap around the ski poles tightly, desperately trying to keep yourself from moving forward.

nico expertly slides in front of you, his skis bumping yours. "do you want to go back down? we can just walk back to the lodge if you're feeling scared."

you shake your head quickly. "i'm not scared...im just worried about falling on my face." truth of the matter is that you are feeling scared—scared because you actually hadn't skied since you were 10, and you'd actively avoided the actual ski part of your holiday trips by sitting in the lodge and reading whatever book you'd been into since then—but not this year.

nico wanted to get out on the hills, and even though he said that he didn't mind if you wanted to stay at the house or even in the holiday themed ski lodge, you didn't want him to feel alone out there, especially because he's doing you a favour in just being apart of your families christmas—so here you are on top of the ski hill. plus, any excuse to get away from scott, which of course your mom invited him and susan to spend the day with you all, you'd take.

"you're not going to fall on your face." nico tells you, his tone gentle as he looks down at you.

"you don't know that." you say. "what happens if my ski catches a divet in the ice and I go head over heels into the snow?"

he laughs gently. "the only reason you'll fall is because your hairs in your face—here." nico ditches his poles in the snow, and with glove covered hands he reaches towards your face. gently he tucks your hair underneath your hat, pushing away any hairs that have fallen out from your braid.

you swallow, eyes flickering over his face. "i'm a little nervous." you finally admit.

"it's okay to be nervous." nico adjusts the strap of your goggles over your pink helmet, moving it into a proper position. "it's also okay to back out."

"I don't want to back out." you huff. "I want to do it."

his lip tugs upwards in a half smile. "yeah?"

"yeah." you nod. "but you have to do it with me." you both make your way—you very cautiously—towards the edge of the slope. "i'm serious nico."

"I won't leave your side, okay? fix your knees like I showed you earlier...yup, just like that." he watches you intently, making sure you're in a proper position. nico finds your face again, an apprehensive look in his eyes. "you sure?"

"think so." you hum. "it’ll be fine." before you can decide to back out, you manually push forward until your skis take over, sliding down the first dip of the hill, sending your downward.

the sound of your skis slicing through the icy snow is a rather relaxing sound, one that has a smile breaking out on your face. the feeling of quickly moving through time, with the cool air kissing your exposed cheeks is rather freeing, and for a moment you're not thinking about anything other than yourself and nico.

you can hear nico follow suit, following your tracks within a safe distance. "good! keep your blades a little bent! like pizza." he calls to you, voice travelling through the wind whipping past your ears.

"am I doing it?!" you question loudly, eyes still casted forward as you reach the middle area of the slope, continuing the rather speedy descent down the snowy hill.

"you're doing it." nico answers proudly—a boyish chuckle following.

"oh my god!" you scream happily, "i'm doing it." you slide over a small lip on the hill, propelling slightly into the air. miraculously, you land with only a small teeter in your legs, continuing to ski downwards.

in a moment of excitement, you turn to look over your shoulder, eyes wide and full of disbelief as you find nico. "did you see that?"

his face falls. "y/n, watch out!"

as soon as nico's warnings finishes, you feel somebody slam into you, affectively sending you off balance and smacking towards the ground. you feel the snow cover your face as you land, and you groan out, eyes closing as a quick wave of pain washes over you.

"holy fuck—y/n are you okay?" the voice sounds a little distant to your ears, like they are muffled. they help you sit up, gently cradling your biceps with their hands as they pull you into a sitting position.

you squint in attempt to focus your vision, blinking quickly to clear the blur. "what?"

nico's concerned face slowly appears in your eyesight. "are you okay?"

you groan again. "I think so."

he breaths loudly—a sound of relief. his hands move from your arms and towards your face, un-clipping the helmet strap from under your chin. nico pulls the hot pink protective gear off your head, leaving you with your damp beanie and snow coated braid. "you scared me for a second there. does anything hurt?"

"not really, maybe just a little sore and bruised." you swallow gently as you watch nico as he gently moves your head from side to side, checking for external injuries. his gaze is so intense—so focused. the embarrassment and lingering pain in your limbs has you feeling emotional, and your lip trembles. "i'm sorry."

instantly, nico's eyes snap back to yours. "don't apologize." he watches the way your eyes begin to well up with tears, quickly looking around as if you're seeing how many people are watching you. immediately he knows you're feeling embarrassed on top of everything else, and he pulls you into his chest, pressing a quick kiss against your hairline over your knitted hat.

you can barley feel the kiss, but it's enough to where the gesture has you melting—melting because he wasn't doing it because somebody in your family is watching or making him…nico simply just wanted to.

"you're okay." he mumbles against your hat.

"I think I wanna walk the rest of the way." you mumble waterly, attempting to joke.

he smiles against you, "you think so?" pulling back, he meets your eyes, a boyish grin on his face. the sight instantly has you feeling better, and with a small grin you nod.

nico helps you remove your boots from the ski blades, popping open every latch and button so you're easily able to slip out of the boot slot. he follows suit with his own ski's, freeing himself of the blades hold so he's left in only the chunky boots.

a familiar voice calls your name, approaching you and nico. "shit i'm sorry." scott says, stopping in front of you with his ski's tucked under his arm. "I didn't realize it was you."

nico stiffens. "you hit her? seriously?"

"I just said sorry man." scott huffs. "no need to get all annoyed."

his brows raise is pure shock, eyes squinting accusingly in the shorter man's direction. "sorry doesn't help. what if she got seriously hurt?"

"she didn't though."

nico breathes in disbelief. "that's not the point."

scott takes a step back, "relax, dude."

"she's my girlfriend. I can't relax."

"whatever." scott looks back towards your shy face, offering you a sympathetic shrug. "sorry again y/n."

you nod once. "thanks."

that's all it takes for scott to leave again, practically jogging away from the both of you, back down the hill. he disappears behind the slope of the hill, and immediately nico is turning back to you, his expression that was only moments ago hard and strong, now soft. "he doesn't deserve your apology."

"I know." you breathe. "but I was done listening to him."

nico nods understandably, but he looks slightly worried—guilty maybe? "are you upset with me about that?"

"no. i'm glad you were here to defend me honestly. I would've crumbled under the pressure of my own need to be a people pleaser." you laugh lightly.

the ghost of a smile takes over his face. "promise?"

you nod. "help me down the hill? I need you right now—my hips a little sore."

in an instant nico is grabbing you, careful of your sore hip as he wraps an arm around your torso. "let me know if you need to stop at all, okay?"

you both begin to slowly walk down the hill, nico dragging the ski stuff behind you. "you worry too much." you tease him, gaze flickering to his face.

he breathes a laugh, not looking away from the hills. "yeah I worry cause I—" he pauses briefly, a gentle gulp following. "cause you're my friend, y/n."

"your friend?" you question his choice of words quietly—timidly.

finally, he meets your eyes. "yeah."

there's a moment then, where you're looking at one another with eyes that say a million things your mouths can't yet. you're unsure whether or not nico was about to admit to something—deeper feelings—before correcting himself, and you're not sure if you'll ever know.

but you're too scared—to anxious—to find out. because if it's not the answer you're hoping for, your christmas eve will be ruined, and your heart will be broken.

you laugh, breaking the tension. "that's not very fake boyfriend of you to say."

nico blinks once, but soon his expression changes into a more playful one, eyes twinkling with amusement. "c'mon y/n/n."

—

the warm bubbles are slightly ticklish against your skin, but it's a pleasant feeling. you sink further into the hot tub, letting the jets and heat do their job on your sore body.

as the sun started setting through the kitchen window, the pain of your earlier incident was only getting worse, and you could barley move without hissing in pain.

after the 8th groan of discomfort during jim carey's grinch, your mom suggested the hot tub. after all what good were you trying to put presents under the tree if you couldn't even bend over to pick them up.

the almost instant relief from the hot tub was enough to have you moaning out, submerging up to your shoulders and letting the water splash up your neck.

a beat passes and the sliding door sounds, opening into the cool night. "hey, got the presents from my car." nico stands by the entrance, peering through the dimly lit deck over in your direction.

"did you give them to tammy?" you question gently.

"I did." nico hums, gently shutting the door behind him. "you okay in there?"

"getting there." you sigh, eyes carefully watching as nico makes his way through the covered deck—no doubt the cold snow covering his feet in the slides he’d slipped on before getting the presents.

"anything you need from me?"

the nighttime pain reliever you’ve been popping since getting back from the lodge has you feeling a bit sleepy and loopy—completely erasing any kind of filter you have. you raise a brow, squinting at him through the mist coming off the water. "I want you to get in."

he laughs gently, resting his hands against the edge of the tub as he looks over at you. nico takes his lip between his teeth briefly, eyes flickering over your submerged figure. "didn't bring a bathing suit."

"nico." you whine, dragging his name out.

"you can't get upset with me," he smirks, "you didn't tell me there'd be a hot tub."

"okay, well just strip down into your underwear and get in." you breathe, "promise I won't look." you hold your hand up like you’re in scouts, looking up at him with most puppy-dog expression you can manage.

"y/n..." he trails off, almost like a gentle warning.

you continue. "i'll even let you have one of my three towels afterwards so you don't have walk back inside in just your underwear.”

his brows pull together. "why did you bring three towels?"

"I like to be extra warm—just get in."

a moment passes—practically watching the gears turn in nico’s head as he debates your ask. just when you think you’ll have to beg again, desperate to have nico close to you, he sighs, pushing off the edge of the hot tub. in one swift motion he pulls his hoodie off, his muscles flexing beneath his rising t-shirt, exposing nico’s hard v-line and happy trail.

you smile in satisfaction, watching as he continues to shed his clothes until he's left in just his black boxer shorts. you try your best to not stare—you really do—but when your fake boyfriend happens to be that muscular and hot, it's hard to keep your eyes away.

he quickly steps into the steaming hot tub, joining you under the water. "happy?"

you smile triumphantly. "very much. I feel better already."

"I bet you do."

a beat passes, only the sound of the running jets to be heard through the night. it's very relaxing, and with nico with you it now feels 10 times better. under the water you extend your leg until your foot gently nudges his leg—grabbing his attention. "thank you again for today. for everything, I just...i'm really happy that dougie called you for me. because I would've been too nervous to ask you myself."

his brows raise. "why would you have been nervous?”

shyly, you shrug. "I don't know, I just didn't want you to think I was...taking advantage of you or something."

"I wouldn't have thought that—I don't think that." nico moves closer to you, the warm water sloshing around slightly as he comes to a stop in the seat beside you. instinctively you turn your body towards him, eyes curious and knowing all at once.

a beat passes.

"did you know when I was a kid on christmas eve I used to convince my sister that if she didn't let me have her last advent chocolate santa wouldn't come."

you grin. "you didn't."

he laughs. "I so did. and I remember feeling like such a badass about it to. then when she found out that santa wasn't real and I was simply just conning her into an extra chocolate she lost it—and I mean lost it."

"what did she do?"

"obviously she told my parents, which was expected." nico hums. "but she also smashed my game system—like completely destroyed it with our dads hammer."

you gasp, "no."

"yeah and I cried like a baby."

you laugh gently.

nico continues. "looking back now I definitely shouldn't of been so sneaky. and now every christmas I always buy her an advent calendar as an apology."

"that's kind of cute." you coo sweetly.

his eyes soften at the sound, watching your head tilt in admiration. "you would really like her. you two are kind of similar."

you stifle a knowing laugh. "after hearing how she smashed your gaming stuff I think I have to agree—one year I sent taylor's favourite scarf for a trip in the fireplace."

nico snickers, "you little rebel."

"don't laugh," you smile. "she had taken my favourite babydoll I'd opened that christmas and covered the entire face in marker. so instead of going to my parents like I should have, I just threw her scarf right in the fire."

"damn," he breathes. "remind me not to steal your baby dolls."

"oh since then i've kept them all locked away, so you'll never find them." your eyes glisten with a playful shimmer, looking at nico teasingly. he mimics your lighthearted expression, a warm smile pulling on his lips.

your eyes wander to his exposed arm, catching sight of the familiar pattern of ink on his inner arm. "i've always like this one." slowly you reach out, tracing the tattoo with a wet finger.

"yeah?" he watches the way your touch moves over the artwork, your fingers leaving a wake of goosebumps on his skin—despite the heat from the hot tub, chills run over his body.

"yeah." you nod. "does it mean anything?"

"it's my families star signs," he points to the first one, tracing the greek symbol. "they all bleed into one another, almost like it's representing a family line."

“nico that’s…really cool.” you smile gently. "when did you get it?"

he laughs gently, a blush coating his cheekbones. "long time ago."

you snicker, eyes flickering back towards his face and away from the sentimental tattoo on his string bicep. “alright old man.”

he quirks a brows at you, amused. "we're the same age."

playfully you shush him, bringing your finger towards his plump lips in a silencing motion.

quickly, nico grabs your wrist, pulling your tiny hand away from his face. his firm yet teasing grasp around your hand sends your skin into a flurry of flames, igniting under his warm palm.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your pouty lips as if he can't decide where to look—what to do.

you lean in ever so slightly, scared that if you move too suddenly you'll wake up from a dream. nico's hold on your hand changes, fingers trailing down your wrist and off your arm.

his hand finds your slick thigh under the bubbly water, and your heart feels like it's going to jump out from your ribcage with how hard and intensely its beating. as nico's thumb begins to rub along your skin, pleasantly tickling your thigh, you think you may just die.

your hand inches towards his torso under the water, your fingernails just scraping softly against his abs—

"I should get out." nico mumbles. "I haven't packed yet and I gotta leave before 9."

you swallow the disappointment you're feeling, blinking away your emotions as you pull your hand away. "yeah. sure."

he gets out of the hot tub, and you can't even watch him as he does. nico wraps himself in one of your towels before gently looking back towards you. "i'll see you inside, okay?"

you hum in acknowledgment.

and then he leaves.

you mope in the hot tub a little bit longer than expected, and by the time you finally drag yourself back inside the only person awake is your mom.

she sits on the couch silently, finishing up some last minute wrapping of what seems like a gift for brody—some football jersey for a team you don't recognize. "feel better honey?" she asks.

you nod once. "yeah, thanks." you start to walk further into the home, towards the stairs, but your mom stops you, calling out your name quietly.

"before you go upstairs," she sighs, "I just wanted to say i'm sorry about scott. I shouldn't have even put that idea in your head when I called you and I shouldn't have invited him and susan around the that times I did. he was not only disrespectful towards you, but he was disrespectful towards nico and your relationship."

your chest warms. "thanks mom. it's okay."

"but I already invited them for breakfast after presents tomorrow—honestly susan is kind of a bitch and the last thing I need is for her to fuck me over to corporate because I didn't have her and her asshole son over for breakfast."

you snort, which has your mom joining in on the hushed laughter. you're truly not upset about that, and if anything the whole thing is so authentically your mom that you're almost glad she invited them.

just when you think she's done, your mom continues with a twinkle in her eyes. "I must say y/n, I've never seen you happier or more comfortable in a relationship that what i'm seeing when you're with nico. honey I don't know why it took you so long to realize there was something more between you, because nico is special."

you feel tears well up in your eyes, a million unsure emotions coming to a tilt in your throat. you nod. "yeah. he is."

DAY 4

"do you really have to go?" taylor's tiny voice wobbles with emotion slightly, looking up at nico with her wide animated eyes.

he crouches down to her level, soft gaze unwavering. "unfortunately. I have to work tomorrow.”

"okayyyy." she pouts. "maybe next time you can bring your stuffies for the tea party."

"that's a great idea." he grins at the way your nieces face lights up, already giddy at the thought of the next party.

your mom suddenly cooes, moving towards the front door where nico stands with his suitcase. she frowns at him, "honey thank you so much for coming, you've been wonderful."

he stands to his full height, embracing your mom as she wraps her arms around him in a familiar hug. "thank you for having me."

you watch silently, gnawing the skin around your thumb anxiously. you'd been dreading this since you were awoken at 7 by your niece for presents, and saying goodbye to nico today was weighing on you heavily—even with the lingering unspoken words from last nights abrupt departure.

"safe driving, nico." tammy smiles towards him kindly.

brody chimes in, "yeah man, can't have you going down. the devils need you."

your fake boyfriend laughs gently, nodding. "i'll try my best to get home in one piece." then nico's eyes flicker towards you, a soft yet sad expression pulling at his face. he takes a deep breathe, plastering on a bigger smile. "i'll see you when you're home."

you nod, your own forced smile on. "i'll see you then, nico." there’s an unspoken meaning with the goodbye—one that feels permanent and you hate it. with one more emotional glance in your direction nico waves goodbye to your family….and then he leaves.

the hallow feeling that runs through your bones is almost painful, your eyes trained on the spot he was just standing. a million feelings run through you at once—hurt, anger, confusion, warmth, guilt. it's all one big stressful ball, but yet somehow through all that you know there's real feelings for your friend there, ones that have been making your heart run ramped and your stomach flip around with butterflies for years.

"hey," scott's quiet voice interrupts your thoughts, looking over at you with flirtatious eyes. "if things with lover boy don't work out, ill be here." you’d honestly forgot him and susan were here, arriving just after taylor had tore through all her presents for breakfast.

it had you rushing to open your present from nico—because of course he bought you a present—his jersey and a handbag you’d been wanting for years. a handbag that only bree knew you loved, meaning that he talked to your best friend to get you the perfect christmas gift.

and yeah…you really like nico hischier.

blinking out of your thoughts, you properly turn and face scott. "that will never happen."

you look around the room at your family, who have now all resumed their normal routine throughout the home. taylor’s making your brother-in-law open every new toy so she could play with them, while your mom and susan busy themselves in the kitchen, talking while the kettle boils for another round of coffee.

you catch tammy's eyes and she nods—knowingly. you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, and a tiny smile begins to pull at your lips. "i'll be right back." you mutter, and before you even realize what you're doing, you slip on somebodies slides, leaving out the front door.

the wind blows right though your gingerbread pyjamas, the cold biting against your skin—but you don't care as the only thing you can think about is him. "nico!"

the sound of your voice has him pausing, rounding from the back of his vehicle where he was loading his suitcase in. nico’s brows pull together tightly, looking and feeling rather confused as you hurriedly make your way towards him—merely slipping out of your shoes as you hit a patch of ice.

"what are you doing?" he questions.

"don't go." you words a rushed, looking up at him with a shy confidence in your eyes.

nico sighs quietly. "I don't really have a choice."

you shake your head, eyes closing in frustration. "I know - fuck don't don't go just stay...for a second."

"what are you trying to say, y/n?"

"I like you - like really like you." finally you break, looking towards nico with nothing but vulnerability on your face. "and I think deep down I always knew that, but something about this weekend...watching you interact with my family and seeing how much they like you—it's amplified everything to 100."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying your best at keeping your voice steady as you continue. "and I really didn't think i'd be chasing after a guy in my pyjamas this weekend, but here I am. because you're not just some guy, nico. you're the guy. and I can't let you leave without saying that because I don't think i'll ever have the courage to say it again."

nico swallows. "I can't believe you just told me that." he pauses, a small laugh bubbling past his lips. "and right when I have to leave. because now I really want to stay."

you let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding, relief rushing over you body at his words.

he continues. "I like you so much it's not even funny."

"you do?" you question shyly.

"yes." nico takes a step towards you, now close enough to reach out and touch. "you're my favourite."

"favourite what?" you whisper.

"everything." he reaches out, gently taking ahold of your face between his cold palms. his thumbs stoke along your cheeks comfortingly, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes as his gaze moves towards your lips. "what was the rule about kissing again?"

you inhale sharply, your own eyes watching nico's lips inch closer and closer towards yours. "only if absolutely necessary."

"thought so." nico's words are mumbled between you, lips brushing against yours before he finally closes the gap, connecting your mouths in a much desired kiss.

in that moment it's hard to think about anything other than the skillful and practiced kisses nico is giving you, his hand nestled at the base of your skull as he holds you to him, but one thing you do know is that you should've done this fake boyfriend thing years ago.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Stiles woke up to Derek lazily sucking kisses to the back of his neck. He hummed and scooted backwards, closer to Derek.

"Good morning, Der, happy birthday," he murmured, reaching a hand back to pat Derek’s side.

"Thank you, love," Derek whispered, tucking his face into Stiles' neck and nuzzling his nose.

Stiles started pulling away, giggling at Derek’s annoyed grumbles, and said, "I wanna give you your present, babe."

"Later," Derek frowned, pulling on Stiles' hand when he got to his feet beside the bed.

"No, now. Wanna be just us when I give it to you," Stiles whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Derek's lips.

Derek quirked an eyebrow at Stiles who immediately blushed and flailed, slapping the back of his hand against Derek’s chest. "Not like that, pervert."

Derek chuckled and flopped on his belly and Stiles took that as his queue to go get the present. He ran to the attic of the rebuilt Hale house and pulled out the huge box he had hidden there.

Huffing, he carried it downstairs. He was so nervous that his heartbeat had to be deafeing to Derek. He dropped the box beside Derek woth a groan, tentatively taking a seat next to it as Derek sat himself up.

"May I?" Derek asked, gesturing at the box. Stiles nodded, chewing his lips anxiously, and watched as Derek carefully pulled the top off.

The first thing he pulled out was a ragged looking knitted blanket. With a strangled gasp, Derek brought it to his face and buried his nose in the fabric, greedily inhaling the scent.

"What - how?" Derek whimpered, red eyes peeking from behind the blanket.

"I had a witch cast a spell on it so that the smell would never fade," Stiles replied.

Derek nodded and composed himself a little, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders before digging back into the box.

Next, he took out a vintage looking watch, the edges of the leather strap looking a bit burnt. He immediately put it on his wrist, offering his hand to Stiles to secure it wordlessly.

He then removed a small wooden rattle, hand carved designs running down the hand. At this point, his eyes had filled up with tears.

He took a few calming breaths before pulling out a leather bound book. He looked questioningly at Stiles who whispered, "Open it."

Derek slowly opened the book as if afraid to find its contents. As soon as his eyes fell on the first page, the tears fell free, rapidly dripping down his face. He hastily turned from page to page, hand reverently grazing over all of them. Finally, anguished, heaving sobs burst out of Derek’s chest as he took in the pictures. A young Talia, holding baby Derek in her arms. Laura pushing toddler Derek on the swing. His grandma and grandpa in the middle of a slow dance. His parents kissing on their wedding day. All of the Hales with their extended families together on Christmas, dressed in matching pyjamas on the insistence of Derek’s father.

Stiles couldn't keep in his own tears at the sight of Derek and he silently cried. Derek carefully put the book aside after a while and pulled Stiles into his lap, hiding his face in Stiles' neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Derek murmured against his skin, pressing kisses every so often.

"There are more things in the attic. I took whatever the police had taken that night and took it to a witch to be restored. She even magicked some things from scent memory, things that couldnt be saved. There are copies for Peter and Cora too. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but-"

"Stiles, you have given me a piece of my family back. You don't have to apologize, for anything," Derek whispered fiercely, still scenting his neck. He pulled back from the hug and unwrapped the blanket from around his shoulders to put around Stiles'. "I love you, baby. You can't imagine how happy I am."

With a teary smile, Stiles flung himself into Derek's arms again. "I love you too, Derek, so much."

[torchbearerkyle]

When the summer dies (I'm with you always)

Chapter 5

Previous || Next || Masterlist

Warnings: Sobel

Word count: 4.7k

Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction based on the HBO War series Band of Brothers and the actors' portrayals of the real WW2 veterans who I have the upmost respect and gratitude for. I do not in any way mean any disrespect to them.

A/N: This is my longest chapter yet and also my favourite one. Enjoy :) I hope you guys love it as much as I do.

--

You rested your elbows on your knees, head bowed just a little. The quiet was a cloak, shielding you from the rushing world beyond the threshold. In that pause, everything you were leaving and everything you feared to face met in silence. You sat by the window, fumbling the same pack of cigarettes that kept you company most nights.

Your bag slumped patiently against the door, eager to leave behind the temporary stillness like a whisper fading in a crowded room. You exhaled softly at the small thud of the box dropping into the awaiting drawer. You’ve been lucky to even have it all this time. A secret tucked just out of reach. Now the weight of it pressed too heavy. There was no other choice but to let it go. You would rather live than face the consequences of a pack of german cigarettes being found in your footlocker.

The door clicked shut behind you, locking away a room that had almost become home. Outside the air was brisk despite the clear sky and the sun shining as bright as it had at noon. The station wasn’t far and your train wasn’t set to leave until later in the afternoon, so you walked, brushing shoulders against people you know you might never see again. The stakes were higher this time. There would be a clear line between friend and foe in the frontlines, nothing like the muddled one you tethered between before, all while hiding in plain sight.

You had already made peace with the fact that you might not come back, and something shook your core at how little you cared.

Union Station was a cathedral of motion, high-arched ceilings echoing with the shuffle of boots and the hiss of steam. Beneath the great iron ribs of the station, the air smelled of coal smoke, leather polish and strong coffee. Soldiers leaned against marble pillars with duffle bags slung over their shoulders, some laughing too loud, others quiet and far away already.

The long queue at the counters had you clutching your ticket, grateful that you could head straight to your platform. Announcements crackled from tinny loudspeakers, barely audible over the rush of heels and orders barked by MPs. You moved through the crowd like a shadow slipping between beams of sunlight, your focus narrowed on the path before you. Then, just as you rounded a pillar near Gate 6, your stride faltered.

Across the platform, was a figure unmistakable against the sea of strangers. You picked up your pace again.

“You’re early.”

“So are you,” you replied, knees bending slightly so you could rest your bag on the floor. Without pause, Mikey took your bag out of your hands and slung it over his shoulders instead.

“Here,” he said after a while. You glanced over to see his palm wide open, a small shiny pebble sitting at the cusp of his hand. “My little sister gave it to me when I left home. It’s from the river behind my house. She insisted it was a good luck charm. Must work if I’m still in one piece with all the driving I do around here.”

He looked at you expectantly before trusting his hand forward.

“Come on, I ain’t the one that’s gonna be hammered down by bullets.”

“You’re so stupid,” you mumbled before gently taking the pebble. You ran your thumb over it, surprised by the smoothness. The startling contrast between the two sides of the pebble had you wondering how many times your friend had run his finger over it just like you had.

“Thank me when it saves your life,” Mikey joked.

You slid the rock in your right pocket. A muffled click vibrating against your skin as it settled right next to your lighter.

“Oh, and before I forget,” he said, his hand reaching for his pocket, “Janet got you this.” He held out a small envelope. You let one side of your lips curl into a smirk.

“Did she, now?” You opened it and found a photograph staring right back at you. The three of you, behind a table littered with empty glasses at the bar. Your heart clenched and you closed the envelope as quickly as you could, refusing to let your eyes tear up.

“Write to me, alright? So I know you ain’t dead,” Mikey mumbled around the fresh cigarette dangling from his lips. He fidgeted on his feet, his gaze alternating between the platform clock and the iron track.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you replied teasingly. The grin fell off your face at his restlessness and you grasped his blazer at the elbow, “Cheer up, Christ. I’m not dying! Not until I’m shipped off anyway.”

He didn’t say anything but the look on his face was enough to shut you up straight away.

Union Station was far away by the time the sun had set, nestled behind the endless trees that blocked the vision of the twinkling city. The train rumbled, cutting through sun-washed fields that looked straight out of a painting. You sat stiffly in the corner of the bench seat, your uniform jacket folded neatly in your lap, collar still creased from the morning. Washington had already begun to feel far behind and everything felt quieter, slower and more uncertain. Just like your future at Camp Toccoa.

You tried not to think much about it, focusing on the rustle of newspapers and the low murmur of soldiers filling the carriage instead. A corporal from Kentucky had fallen asleep a few seats away, his chin bumping into his chest every now and then as the train swayed violently. Across the aisle, two privates play a slow game of cards with weary patience. You kept to yourself, the manuals you’d receive along with your ticket wide open on your lap. Although your eyes hadn’t touched the pages in the past hour, you traced the edges of your orders. The paper was already soft from the folding and the unfolding.

You knew what the paper said. The words were burnt at the back of your eyes.

The landscape changed slowly, grass turning to red clay and small towns flickering past like half-formed thoughts. The further the train traveled, the further away you felt from everything you understood. Washington had been full of brass and shorthand and routine. Toccoa was sweat, pine trees, mountains, mud and men who definitely wouldn't want you there permanently. They didn’t seem repulsed by your presence the last time you had been at Toccoa, but then again, you weren’t there as a soldier— someone with whom they’d have to share the shooting range and the obstacle course with— but just as a mere assistant whose only weapon was a pencil.

You let your temple rest against the cool glass. You didn’t regret it. Not yet. But your spine ached from sitting straight too long, and your hands were starting to shake, not fear exactly. But a pressure building in your chest. Women have been underestimated for so long and this was your only chance to prove that there was so much more they could do if they were given the opportunity. This was their country too, so why couldn’t they fight for it just as the men were? Yes, they worked the factories and nursed the wounded back to health, but when would people finally realise that most women were born to lead and inspire?

You settled closer to the window, your eyelids heavy as the landscape blurred past. Your fingers fidgeted with the buttons of your jacket and soon enough the whistling window lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

The train station was the same as it had been months ago, but the sunlight was replaced by delicate silver rays that poked through gray clouds. You smoothed down your hair under your hat before heading to the end of the platform where you knew the army jeep would be patiently waiting. You swallowed down a yawn as your eyes skimmed over the clock on the wall.

Dirt crunched under your shoes and you almost stopped right in your tracks at the sight of the private draped over the driving wheel, arms folded to pillow his head comfortably. You let out a sigh, not out of disappointment but of pity and guilt. You knocked twice on the screen and watched as the soldier snapped back awake, a startled look on his face before it distorted into one of horror. He let out a string of apologies, jumped out of the jeep and stood at attention.

“At ease, Private. I apologise for the ungodly hour, the train took longer than expected.”

“It’s all good, ma’am, Colonel Sink arranged for you to stay the night, well what’s left of it, in the cleared out room in HQ until you can get settled in the barracks in the morning.”

The jeep soon rattled down the familiar narrow Georgia road, its engine loud against the stillness of the sleeping countryside. Dust kicked behind the wheels in a thick curling plume, catching in your throat and coating your tongue. The driver didn’t say much after that, his hand coming up every few minutes to conceal his yawns. The looming shadow of Mount Currahee had instantly washed the sleepiness out of your eyes and you sat wide awake in the passenger seat, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over your head.

The camp had no welcome signs. No ceremony. Just red clay, dust and the weird anticipation of what tomorrow might bring.

The Private had dropped by again with instructions as you settled back into the room you had used the last time. Colonel Sink would see you in the morning, 0600 sharp.

There was everything you needed stacked on the table shoved at the corner of the room. ODs, leather boots, PT gear, new U.S collar disks and a pair of crossed golden rifles for Infantry. You picked it up, finger running over the ridges. You sat down at the edge of your cot as a wave of lightheadedness flashed through your skull.

This was it.

There was no space for mistakes now.

You laid still for a while, staring up at the wooden ceiling, trying not to think. Sleep wouldn’t come. It didn’t even hover out of reach, it was so far away you doubt you could even spy in with a telescope. Then, without ceremony, you swung your legs over the side of the cot, reaching for the brown ankle boots. Your fingers worked by instinct, threading lace through boot hooks in the dark. The leather was new and stiffer than beef jerky left to dry for too long. Your ankles would get the support they needed to run Currahee, but there was nothing you could do to avoid the inevitable blisters you would get from the barely broken- in shoes.

You tied the knot twice at the top, not for comfort but for the control that you would lack once you were issued to your company in the morning.

Outside the air pressed close, heavy with humidity and the distant noises of insects. You paused at the doorway, hand braced on the frame as if the choice could still be reversed. Sooner or later, you would have to run Currahee. If it wasn’t now, then it would be tomorrow, surrounded with people who would probably love to see you fail. Sleep wasn’t coming and something deeper than restlessness had driven you away from bed. You stepped out into the dark, alone and boots thudding softly on the packed earth.

Morning had come quicker than you expected and you found yourself pacing in front of your cot. The olive wool trousers felt unfamiliar but it was a welcomed change. The sound of your watch ticking had you nervously adjusting the crease on your collar. Colonel Sink’s office was only a few feet away and with a couple of minutes to spare, you gathered all your belongings back into your bag. You dropped it next to the rucksack containing most of your gear as you crossed the small space to the door and left.

The secretary wasn’t as annoyed as he was the last time. He gave you a curt nod and knocked on the door immediately as you arrived. You cursed mentally, because a foolish part of you thought you would have enough time to calm your beating heart as you waited outside without pausing to think about the possibility that you were the first one to see the Colonel today.

He let you in and shut the door, the sound of the click switching something in your brain. Your training kicked it and you calmed yourself, your face devoid of any visible emotions. You stepped inside, standing just past the threshold, back straight, cap tucked on your belt and boots polished to mirror.

Sink didn’t stand but his eyes tracked you carefully. Not because you were a woman, but because you were about to become a problem. Or a solution. Or both. He just hadn’t decided yet.

He had read your painfully long file, the one that refused to end. You were smart, smarter than even some of his officers and skilled, proof of it inked upon pages and pages of mission reports. Moreover, the experience you had behind enemy lines could very well be used to keep them 2 steps ahead of the Jerries once they’ve been deployed. The fact that you were also a trained parachutist eased some of the doubts he had about you at first.

He said your name, glancing at your file, though he’d memorised it like he had his own when he was a child. It wasn’t every day a woman was assigned to the paratroopers. Hell, it wasn’t any day. Not until now.

“Yes, Sir,” you answered calmly. That was something.

Sink laced his fingers over the edge of the desk and leaned back. “You are assigned to Easy, Sergeant. You’ll be training with men whose bones haven’t finished healing from yesterday. You’ll live beside them. You’ll get no softness from them, and certainly none from Captain Sobel. You understand the nature of the unit you’ve been assigned to.”

Not a question. A gate you’d need to walk though.

Sink continued, “Given the nature of your job, you’ll attend classroom instruction with the Officers.”

You didn’t flinch. He noted that. A flicker behind your eyes, maybe, but you held steady.

Sink watched you for another moment. There was grit in the way you stood. Not bravado. Just weight, braced and silent. Like someone who’d already heard worse than anything he might say. You probably did, he figured.

“Captain Sobel will have thoughts,” he said flatly, more to see your reaction than to prepare you.

“‘Just here to do my job, Sir,” you replied without a blink.

Good.

“You’ll earn your place here like anyone else. No exceptions. No excuses. And if any man here thinks to test you for sport, they’ll answer to me-— through proper channels.”

He meant that. But he also knew better than to believe fairness would shield you. Besides he doubted you needed it, not when you cut an imposing figure to most. He had faith you would last because something about you told him you would fight for it with everything you had.

Another knock at the door had him looking away.

The door opened.

Captain Sobel walked in.

“Captain Sobel. This is your newly assigned NCO. Intelligence specialty. Jump-qualified. She passed the induction board last week.”

Sobel, standing just inside the door, blinked once. His arms remained behind his back, his mouth tightening in displeasure as his eyes flicked to the woman in front of Sink, steady at parade rest, face unreadable. He hadn’t been briefed. Not on this. A flicker of recognition flashed in his face.

“I wasn’t aware we were due for reinforcements, Sir. And certainly the last thing we would need is a secretary,” he said, controlled. The implication hung heavy in the air.

“You weren’t consulted, Captain. This isn’t something you can overrule, you’d be raising objections a few stars too high. She’s cleared for training, and she’ll be held to the same standards as every other NCO under your command.”

Sobel shifted slightly, not enough to be insubordinate, but enough to let his displeasure register.

“With respect, Sir… a field unit like Easy requires cohesion. Introducing variables—” Sobel started, measured.

Sink cut him off, his voice stern, “She’s not a variable, she’s a soldier. Your job is to train her along with the men.”

Silence stretched. You didn’t dare move. The standoff being the Colonel and the Captain too tense and heated to risk bringing their attention back to you.

“She’ll report to you effective immediately. That’s all.” Sink turned his eyes back to the stack of papers on his desk, a silent signal that the conversation was over. Sobel hesitated, then gave a clipped nod.

“Yes, Sir.” He turned towards the door, paused beside you for just a second too long. “In my office. At once.” Sobel spoke low, his voice full of venom. You held back a flinch at the harshness rolling off of him as he left.

Sink didn’t look up from his paperwork until you turned to follow.

“Don’t give him a reason. Make him look foolish on his own.”

You gave the smallest flicker of a smile.

Sink’s eyes flickered to the map stuck on the wall.

“God help the men if she’s tougher than they are.”

And he had a feeling you might be.

It didn’t quite register to you that you were being assigned to Easy until Sobel came in. He looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide in surprise until they narrowed down to slits. He hadn’t bothered hiding his displeasure, well you supposed anyone would be upset at changes being made to their company without notice, but you doubted it had anything to do with that but more on the fact that you were a woman. Sobel had always strived to train the best company in the Regiment, and he definitely saw you as a liability who would be dragging her weight around, tarnishing the company name.

You walked a few paces behind Sobel until he finally stopped in front of a door, shoulders rigid under the weight of authority and something else.

The office was cold and closed. The blinds were half-drawn against the Georgia sun, but the light still cut in soft stripes across the desk. Sobel didn’t sit. He moved behind the desk like he might change his mind, then turned and faced you directly.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Miss.” Sobel squared off his shoulders and looked down his nose. You took the disrespect, swallowing down the urge to correct him. As much as you wanted to clench your jaw and roll your eyes, it wouldn’t do you any good. “Whatever orders got you here, you’re under my command now. And I don’t run this company on politics or… public opinion.”

He let the words hang there, just long enough to sting.

“You’ll follow the same program. You’ll meet the same standards. And you’ll get no special accommodations, verbal or otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t expect any, Sir,” you replied evenly.

Sobel’s lips pulled in a tight line. He took another look at you and found himself relaxing. Why worry himself when it was clear you wouldn't even survive a hike up Currahee?

“Good. Because the men will follow my lead.” You pressed your lips shut.

The same men who hated your guts? You wanted to say but you digressed.

“If you want their respect, you’ll earn it the hard way. And if you can’t… you’ll be gone before we even get near a drop zone.” He picked up a clipboard from the corner of his desk, flicked through a few pages like he wasn’t already intimately familiar with them. He let himself feel better at the thought of you struggling through this morning’s PT, but unbeknownst to him, you had already run Currahee. Twice. Your throbbing feet and the developing callouses proof of it.

“You’ll report to First Platoon. We run Currahee soon. You’ll gear up the same as the rest. Find Lieutenant Winters. And try not to be late. I’ll be watching.”

You didn’t answer, just opened the door and stepped out again, back straight, boots sharp on the gravel. Sobel watched you go, jaw clenched, already flipping through scenarios in his mind.

Lieutenant Winters wasn’t hard to find. His red hair was a beacon against the muted browns of Camp Toccoa. He stood just outside of the barracks marked for 1st Platoon. The one Major Howe had inspected on the second day of the Inspection tour. There was someone in front of him, back turned slightly, hiding his face. If you had to take a lucky guess, you would say it was Lewis Nixon. Behind you, the sound of shouted cadence rang from another company drilling on the field— sharp, regular, male voices.

Winters looked up from the papers in his hands, his eyes briefly meeting yours.

“Reporting to Lieutenant Winters, as ordered.”

His eyes were calm, Observant. Lewis turned, a knowing smile on his face.

“Took you long enough, Sergeant,” he said, after a quick look at the stripes on your sleeve.

Winters came forward, offering a nod more than a smile. He studied you for a moment, not rudely, just with the care of a man who liked knowing where every piece fit. He didn’t look surprised by your presence, not one bit.

“Not everyone here is going to be subtle about how they feel. That’s not your concern. You do your job. They’ll catch up.”

You nodded, and this time there was a faint shift in your shoulders, not relaxing but steadying.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, You’ll fall in with the platoon in twenty. We’re running Currahee,” Another nod and he was already turning away and looking back at his papers. Lewis Nixon stayed planted in his spot.

“Looks like you knew my secret before there was one, Lieutenant,” you said quietly.

“It’s part of the job description I suppose,” he replied.

“And being nosy?”

Nixon glanced at you, one of his eyebrows raised in amusement, “Tell you what, you’ll fit in here just fine. Just don’t let Sobel get to you. Which he will try his damn hardest to.”

“Yeah, I got the preview a few months ago.”

“There’s a free bunk for you in there. You run into any trouble you come to me or Winters.” He nodded towards the bunkhouse.

“Understood, Sir.”

The barracks was alive with the usual chaotic energy. Bunks shaken loose of blankets, boots clattered against wooden floors, and voices cracked jokes and complaints over the smell of sweat and pine. Today’s morning PT had been slightly better than yesterday’s and that left almost everyone in a cheery mood.

Malarkey was already teasing Bull about last night’s poker game, while Muck and Luz argued about who stole one of Tab’s socks. Somewhere near the last bunks, Perconte was silently polishing his leather boots with the said socks.

The door swung open with a sharp creak and Lieutenant Winters strode in, commanding attention without shouting.

“Easy Company, attention!” His voice cut through the noise like a knife.

The room snapped quiet, the men straightened up, hands falling to their sides.

Luz widened his eyes at the sight of a woman behind Winters, steady and unflinching, boots clicking softly. You carried a rucksack and the look of someone who belonged, even if they hadn’t quite accepted it yet. He remembered you from somewhere somehow. The pub? No, he remembered you clad in khaki. One of the nurses he’s seen in town, maybe? He racked his brain for answers but all his attempts bore fruitless.

Tab whispered from beside him, his voice laced with something akin to surprise and wonder, “It’s her.”

Luz furrowed his eyebrows, biting back a smart reply before Winters’ voice broke the stifling silence by introducing you.

“—and the Sergeant’s assigned to E company effective immediately.” You stayed rooted in place behind Winters as he spoke.

A ripple ran through the room— quiet whispers and sideways glances. You caught the comment from the closest soldier, a red head beside the tallest man of the platoon.

“Well, well… company just got interesting.”

The man with the blond locks whispered back, a smirk on his lips, “Yeah? Bet she’s tougher than you.” The red head glanced back with an annoyed look on his face before straightening back up.

You suppressed a sigh. You hadn’t even been with the company for more than an hour and you were already the subject to most of their jokes. You caught Liebgott’s gaze briefly and he turned away quickly, lips twitching in displeasure.

“Sobel’s probably gonna eat her alive,” Tab said with pity. He thought you looked innocent, soft and kind, everything that had no place in an Army barracks yet here you were, pitching yourself for the hardest shit you’re probably ever going to do in your entire life. He liked you, he did, ever since you saved his ass from having that photograph confiscated, but he couldn’t help but think that you being here wasn’t right, as grateful as he was for you turning a blind eye at his stupidness.

“Are we sure she didn’t just miss the nurses’ barracks or something?” Luz said, clueless before Martin cut in with a sharp glare that shut everyone up.

Lieutenant Winters raised a hand, further silencing the murmurs.

“She runs Currahee with us this morning and the next. You’ll treat her like any other soldier.”

Toye glanced at Liebgott, “Bet ya’ two bits she will be gone by Friday,”

“Fifty cents says she drops out halfway up Currahee. And I want that extra slice of peach from lunch too.”

“You guys really betting against someone who showed up lookin’ like they already ran it once?” Perconte's voice had them both looking over.

“She ain’t making it up even if she wants to,” Liebgott voiced out. He hadn’t expected to see you again after that brief encounter during weapon inspection all those months ago. He had been happy back then, to see a pretty face after so long of being caged in Camp Toccoa without weekend passes. That’s all you were to him, just a pretty face that kept him going when things got too hard or when Sobel was intent on being a son of a bitch. He wanted to see you again, but now that you were here, in the flesh, in Easy, he felt a wave of displeasure contort his feelings. This was no place for a woman.

Winters had already left the barracks after calling for formation in ten. You walked to the only empty bunk left, nestled between Floyd and a man who offered you a slight smile. You only replied with a nod. The fact that you had to subdue most of your emotions left you feeling slightly unnerved. You weren’t the type of person to not show appreciation or gratefulness, but you were fully aware that every display of emotions could and would be used against you. Even if it was just a smile or some warm words in thanks. You didn’t know how low these men were ready to stoop to get you out of here and you weren’t about to find out.

“Ya’ know, the last guy who had that bunk passed out halfway up Currahee.” A voice behind you chirped as you sat on the edge of your cot, tugging on your bootlaces.

“Thanks for the head’s up, I will try not trip over his pride on the trail,” you said without missing a beat. The murmurs had died down at the sound of your voice flowing through the barracks. You looked up at the silence. The man who’d spoken snapped his mouth shut.

A snort broke the silence and then someone else choked on a laugh. You returned quietly to your laces, pursing your lips as you tied a knot.

“Nice going, Luz,” The red head near the door stifled a laugh as he pulled his white shirt out of his footlocker, gearing up for Currahee.

Taglist: @iinaths @lanadelray1989

[artaintfartwarriors]

FAQ

Hey all! Finally decided to answer some frequently asked questions. Please read before sending me any more!

Q: Can you draw/design my OC?

A: No, this blog is for canon Warrior cats characters only. However, my commissions are always open!

Q: Can you draw hypokits?

A: No, again, this blog is for canon Warriors characters only. I do, however, occasionally draw hypokits/fusions on my main, @artaintfart !

Q: Have you designed [character] yet?

A: Please check my Masterlist! I've designed over 600 characters so far—if it's a main character, chances are, I have! If not, I'll get to it shortly!

Q: When will my request get posted?

A: I'm usually able to finish requests within a few days of getting them. However, the time it takes to post fully depends on my queue. I've never had a request take longer than 2 weeks to post, aside from when I take breaks!

Q: How many designs do you post per day?

A: Just one, at 5PM PST. I do tend to take long breaks, though, when my queue runs out and my motivation fades. I try to keep up, though!

Q: How many designs have you made?

A: As of April 2025, I've done around ~640 designs! Almost halfway there.

Q: Can you make a Starclan/Dark Forest version of [character]?

A: Sure! I've actually done most if not all the Dark Forest cats already with df versions. I will, however, only do characters that are canonically in those places. For example, I won't do Dark Forest Firestar or Starclan Tigerstar I.

Q: Can you draw an elder version of [character]? / Can you draw a young version of [character]?

A: Absolutely! I've done a small bunch of elder versions already, I don't see why not.

Q: Can you draw [deceased kit character] grown up?

A: Not for this blog, but I'd happily take the request or commission on my main blog, @artaintfart !

[bludhavenbirder]

Information

Hello! I'm Ev. My pronouns are they/them. I'm 25. I used to be an avid roleplayer, but fell out of the habit for several years. I'm interested in getting back into it, so feel free to shoot me a message if you're interested in writing with me. Below are the rules and some other important info.

This is a sideblog, so you won't be followed by this handle. If you've got any questions about how that may impact roleplaying, you can shoot me a message or an ask.

I don't roleplay with minors.

I am open to roleplaying with any fandoms as well as OCs! If you send me a meme or a starter out of the blue, I might message you to work some things out before responding, but I am excited to get to know your characters!

I am interested in writing Dick Grayson during his time as Nightwing and his time as Robin. I'm also open to AUs.

Tagging— if I haven't tagged something that is triggering, let me know and I'll fix it ASAP. The blog will contain canon-typical violence. Tags are formatted like "tw: material" such as "tw: overdose" or "tw: discussion of suicide" but will also be under a cut.

I'm fairly open to writing characters discussing most topics and dealing with the aftermath of things, but there are certain things I will not write happening "on screen." Those are rape, sexual harassment, suicide attempts, self harm, eye gore, animal death or abuse. I'm alright to write characters discussing those things, but I've a hard line against deleting them.

I don't write smut. If things get steamy, I'll fade to black.

I'm open to shipping with chemistry. If you play a character who Dick is canonically in a romantic relationship with at some point in the comics, let's chat about it before writing specific romantic plot. If you write a character who doesn't, we also need to chat before writing anything romantic/one character coming on to the other.

No romantic relationships with Batman or the other Robins.

I'm usually on mobile, so formatting will be limited.

You can reblog memes and art and the like from me, if you want. Do not reblog threads unless you are the person I'm writing with please and thanks.

Don't spam like.

On inspiration— I mostly draw from the comics, leaning heavy on Chuck Dixon. I've seen a few animated films here and there, but most of my inspiration comes from the comics. In terms of content I see referenced often, I feel that I should mention that I haven't watched any Teen Titans shows and I haven't read WFA. I'm also not super up to date on current runs because I prefer to read trade paperbacks. If you have any questions about whether or not I've consumed a particular piece of media, feel free to shoot me a message! I don't have any particularly strong opinions on fanon beyond the fact that I don't enjoy the idea that Dick is either a goofy, happy guy or someone full of rage— my philosophy with the character is that someone who feels sorrow and rage as deeply as he does is someone who can also feel joy and love with the same level of intensity.

On response time— I work full time and my job has varying and weird hours. If I haven't responded in a week, please shoot me a message. Based on how busy my life is, I may queue some responses.

Tags— you can find memes under #prompts, wishlist under #wishlist, open starters under #starters, headcanons under #headcanon, out of character content under #ooc, threads that take place while Dick is Robin under #Robin-era. Most art of characters are tagged with their first name, but art of Batman/Bruce Wayne is tagged under #the-bat and Dick is tagged under #the-guy-himself.

[skylarstark4826]

Night in the Forest House - a Brotherhood side story

Norm shivered slightly at the sensation that passed through his neck and shoulders and down his back. She was doing something with her hands. He had to admit it didn't really bother him per se; it felt kinda nice, actually, but he really wanted to know what she was doing.

He'd carried Trudy back to the house after she'd tripped far too many times in her inebriated state, and at first she'd been pretty quiet, just kindof snuggling into his chest - which he didn't mind one little bit. Hey, a guy had to take advantage of his avatar's larger size and exponentially greater strength now and then, and carrying around his girlfriend like she weighed nothing at all was so one of those advantages.

But now she was doing something with her hands on his neck, and he really wanted to know what it was, because it was about to turn his knees to jelly. He bit back a moan as her hands moved up into his hair.

"What're you doing?" he asked, just a little shaky as he walked them through the main room and into the bedroom where he usually left his avatar at night.

"Exploring," she smirked, "what can I say, I'm a curious little girl, and I haven't had this good an opportunity before."

"Um, okay," he nodded. Norm understood curiosity. What scientist of any stripe didn't, after all. "In the name of satisfying your curiosity then, what did you want to know?" If he'd been closer to the sober end of things he might not have put forward such a broad invitation, but Norm had not, in fact, made any effort to limit his intake of the wicked brew the Na'vi kept putting in front of him (or had it been Trudy putting all those bowls by his hand? He wasn't entirely sure) It would have been impolite to refuse any food or drink, and he was never impolite!

"Oh, I wanna know lots of stuff," she grinned, "I've never had a chance to really look at a Na'vi or an avatar close like this, plus..." she scratched her fingernails gently down his scalp, making him shiver and his tail twitch, "I figure if I wanna know alllll about you, I gotta know this side of you too."

"Oh," he said, sitting down on the bed almost reflexively, before his knees gave out.

She grinned, and he knew he was in big, big trouble. "So why don't you just relax and let me work the kinks out of your shoulders from carrying me?" she suggested.

"You...don't need to," he protested as she moved around behind him.

"Naw, it's okay, I want to," she said, running her fingers down the back of his neck. "But you're gonna have to get that vest off, and preferably the tee-shirt too."

Between the alcohol he'd imbibed and the way her fingers were making him feel, all the reasons he shouldn't be doing this just kindof faded away. Before he knew it, he was naked from the waist up, and she was tracing her fingers along his stripes.

"Gotta love inborn camo," she grinned, "and all the little dots, too. Damn I wish I didn't have to wear this stupid mask," she sighed then, "it really gets in the way. Oh well, gotta do what you gotta do."

He was fine with her hands on his back and sides and whatever, but when she started stroking his hair and running her fingers along his scalp, well, that was a different story. It felt surprisingly better than he'd expected, and he couldn't suppress the moans that were almost involuntary. Especially when she got to the base of his queue. He knew he should say something to her about being careful with it; after all, it wasn't something most humans were used to even thinking about, let alone dealing with, but she obviously caught on fast, because even though her fingers were probing the braided hair that protected it, she was being very gentle.

"Sensitive, hmm?" she asked, and he could hear the mischievous smirk in her voice.

"Very," he gulped, holding his head as still as he could and resisting the urge to nod.

"Want me to stop?" She was massaging the spot where his queue met his scalp now, and the feeling was pretty close to utter, relaxing bliss

"Nooo..." he admitted, "just stay right there..."

She laughed a little. "You really are just like a cat getting a good head scratch," she teased.

"Not a cat," he protested.

"Sure you are," she stroked one hand over his head and down, very carefully along his queue as she sat down behind him, "you're my great big kitty-cat if I say you are."

He heard her mutter something along the lines of "stupid fuckin' mask" before taking a deep breath, and then he felt what must be her nuzzling against his side, and placing a couple of small kisses against the top of his hipbone before putting the mask back on.

"Hey now, careful," he said, "I'm too tipsy to fly you out of here if you breathe in the wrong air." He looked over his shoulder to see that she'd flopped down on the bed and was lying on her stomach, playing with the tip of his tail.

"C'mon Norm, I'm not that drunk," she protested, making a face at him, and he laughed again.

"Did I tell you how pretty you look?" he asked, letting his tail flick side to side, bringing it just within her reach before twitching it away just as she tried to grab for it.

"You might've said something," she shrugged (a somewhat awkward proposition given she was holding herself up on her elbows) and leaned against his side.

"Well in case you forgot the other five times I said it...you look really good." Feeling a bit more bold, he let his tail trace along her shoulder, pushing down one sleeve of her blouse just a little.

"Ooo, naughty," she laughed, rolling onto her back to look up at him. "It must be so weird having a tail."

"It took a little getting used to, sure," he nodded, grinning slightly as he let his tail work its way inside her blouse now, "but it has its benefits. Now I'm so used to it I sometimes swear I can feel it twitching even when I'm back in my other body if I get irritated or something."

"That'd drive me nuts," she laughed, "all the time feeling like I had this tail when it wasn't even there." She squirmed slightly as his tail-tuft tickled her stomach, "Hey! Cut that out!" she protested.

He shifted around so that he could watch her better and grinned at her, the combination of inebriation and the beginnings of arousal a heady mix that was making him do things he never normally would have, at least, not in this body. "You sure you want me to stop?" he asked, slowing from tickling to a soft caress along her stomach and up over the side of one breast.

"Ohh...yeah maybe you can keep doing that," she shifted slightly against him, letting the fingers of one hand walk their way along the length of his tail until she reached the base, where she stroked slowly in a very obvious imitation of something else she might stroke. Then her hand wrapped around the base of his tail and squeezed affectionately, and Norm groaned as he felt a sudden and extremely strong rush of arousal.

"Holy shit," he panted, trying to bring himself back under control.

"Oops," Trudy grinned wickedly, sitting up and squeezing again experimentally, "looks like I found a hot spot, mmm?"

He just stared at her, wide-eyed, and his tail wrapped fully around her waist to pull her closer against his side.

"I'd say that's a "yes", wouldn't you?" she squeezed one more time before having at least a little pity on him and letting her hand slide up his spine.

"Goddamn," he groaned, "that's...never happened before."

"Good," she nodded as her fingers reached the back of his neck, as high as they could go without her shifting her position, and she smoothed her hand back down along his queue, lifting it up to examine it more closely. "Nobody else better get you excited like that 'cept me." She was clearly intrigued by the neural tendrils waving at her from the end of his queue, and before he could stop her, she brushed a finger along them.

Now that felt decidedly weird. Norm felt a shudder go through his whole body. She slid her finger back again and the neural tendrils tried to wrap around it, and Norm's eyes went wide. It felt incredibly wrong. Something in the Na'vi part of his mind was telling him he ought to be linked to another consciousness, but there was nothing there...a blank, empty wall.

"Please don't" he whispered, shaking her head, "that's...please just don't."

"Norm?" she blinked at his sudden change in demeanour and carefully pulled her finger away, letting the neural tendrils disengage on their own.

"Sorry," he said, pulling her into his lap, "it's not your fault, that was just...it felt like trying to connect to something dead," he admitted with a shudder.

"Oh," she said quietly, leaning against his chest, "I'm sorry babe, I didn't think..."

"Not your fault," he reiterated, "how would you know, I didn't know that's what it would feel like, I mean, I guess I never really thought about it, but I didn't know it would feel bad like that."

She was silent for a long while, although he knew she hadn't fallen asleep, because her fingers were tracing the stripes along his chest and abdomen where she could reach them. "Do you wish you could? Feel something, I mean?" she asked finally.

"No point wishing for what I'm not going to get," he shook his head, "I love you just the way you are, and the fact that I can't make tsaheylu with you in this body doesn't change that."

"But you won't get a chance to know what it's like," Trudy sighed, "I mean, look at Jake or Tom, both of them have Na'vi girlfriends, and eventually they'll probably get to do the nasty while all linked up and stuff, and Cathy already does... That just really sucks, and I'm sorry."

"Hey, like I said, not your fault," Norm hugged her tighter, "I'll live. It's not like that's something I grew up expecting to be able to do. Besides, having you in my life is way more important than having braidsex."

That made her laugh again, and he knew the topic was dropped, at least for now.

"Hey," she said, pushing away from his chest a little so she could look up at him, "I still haven't finished satisfying my curiosity, and you did ask me what I was curious about."

"Okay, what else are you curious about?" he asked, a little wary at the look in her eyes.

"I've only seen half of you," she grinned, letting her hands move down and start undoing his pants, "and I want to see the other half too, since we have the opportunity and I'm blitzed enough to actually want to know."

"Trudy..." he hesitated.

"Uh uh uh, no weaseling out of this" she shook her head, getting off his lap entirely and poking him in the hip, "you said you'd satisfy my curiosity, now strip!"

Norm groaned, but secretly he enjoyed her ordering him around just a little bit too much to say no to her request. He'd draw the line at anything...physical, though. Their size difference being what it was, and all. He stood up off the bed, kicked his shoes off into a corner and turned away slightly before letting his pants drop to the ground. "There," he said, "happy now?"

"Happy," she grinned, hopping down off the bed as well, walking over to him and stroking her hand along his hip as she walked around him. "Damn you're tall though," she laughed, "come sit back down."

He let her direct him back to the bed, and although she certainly kept her hands busy moving over his skin, she didn't try anything really risque, for which he was eternally grateful.

"You gotta get out of this habit of doing everything I tell you to," she grinned up at him as she settled herself on his lap. Damn, and there he'd been thinking he was safe.

"You haven't told me to do anything that I object to yet," he shrugged, wrapping his arms around her, mostly in a bid to keep her from squirming too much.

She smiled at that and leaned against him, then frowned and grumbled as her mask got in the way again. She took a deep breath and lifted it off, nuzzling into his chest for a moment as she held her breath, then lifting herself up until she was kneeling on his thighs and close enough to kiss him.

It was a brief kiss, given the fact that it was very hard to kiss while holding your breath, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled her mask back down again. He pulled her close to his chest and nuzzled into her hair, memorizing the scent of her, tequila-tinged though it was at this particular moment. She let out a deep sigh and relaxed fully against him, and he realized that she had fallen asleep. Or passed out, more properly. He laid her carefully down on the bed, then got up and grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms, pulling them on before he laid down and curled himself up around her. He was very reluctant to unlink, not looking forward to the prospect of waking up to an empty bed. Well, Jake and Grace would be there, of course, but Trudy would still be here, with his unconscious avatar. He'd just have to grab only a couple hours of sleep and go back into link. He wanted to be here when she woke. He didn't want to miss any more of this than he had to.

[sunsburns]

naked in manhattan

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader / implied art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’re just hours away from a flight that will change your career forever—one that will take you to london, england, for the 2012 olympics, a milestone you never thought you’d reach. thrilled yet trembling with nerves, you find yourself at the hotel bar, celebrating alone. it does not help when you run into art donaldson and… his wife?

—or: you and tashi rekindle an old flame

word count: 6.9k

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, semi-public sex (a gym at the middle of the night so idk if that counts), mid-challengers movie (a year after the atlanta scene with tashi and patrick), angst with no comfort, fingering, homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, no use of y/n, old situationship best described in terms of “casual” by chappell roan (iykyk), art is lowkey a shit starter

author’s note: so i finished this a while back and added it to my queue and did not realize i put it for july instead of june so LOL MY BAD. this is kinda like a prequel to “good luck, babe!” but you don't need to read that to get this. alsoooo thank you for all the love and feedback in “good luck, babe!” i’ve read every single message and tried to reply to all of them! you guys are so sweet and inspired me to write more! thank you thank you <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

Manhattan, New York City, 2012

"I hope you're planning on getting laid tonight."

Your drink is cold, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you swirl the straw absentmindedly. The dim lighting of the hotel bar casts a warm, golden glow over everything, making the polished wood of the bar counter gleam. Around you, the murmur of conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses create a lively yet intimate ambiance. You glance at the TV mounted in the corner, where a muted sports channel displays highlights from a basketball game.

You try not to snort into your drink at the words of Patrick Zweig on the other end of the call. You push your phone closer to your ear, unable to bite back the grin spreading across your face.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"What?" Patrick's tone is mockingly innocent, full of playful mischief.

"I thought you called to say something a little more... I don't know, sincere? Heartwarming?"

He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh that you can practically feel through the phone. In the background, you hear the faint sounds of a city—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional bark of a dog. The noise fades slightly as Patrick likely moves to a quieter spot, and you can almost picture him getting in his car in some other state—you think he's in Arizona.

"The only kind of warming I wanna hear about is cockwarming," he retorts, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You make a face, "You're disgusting."

"I mean it," he insists, still laughing. "I'm actually so jealous of you right now. You qualified for the Olympics, for fuck's sake! How's your mom doing? Did she have a heart attack? Did she call you already? I hope she packed you some condoms. There's gonna be such a wide variety. Literally every country in the world."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick."

Your mother did call, her voice crackling with emotion over the phone just before Patrick rang you. She told you how proud she is of you, how she can't wait to watch you play and tell everyone she knows that her daughter is an Olympic tennis player. A gold medalist, maybe.

Her words echo in your mind, filling you with a warmth that battles the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

You take a sip of your drink, savouring the blend of fruity and bitter flavours, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts. You try not to spill it on your Ralph Lauren sweater, custom-made, just for the Olympics, with your name stitched on the arm.

Around you, the hotel bar is alive with the buzz of other athletes celebrating with their teams. The fellowship is appreciable as laughter and cheers fill the air. But for some single athletes, like yourself, it's a different story. You feel as if you're in high school all over again, too awkward to make friends, hoping someone braver than you will come by and say hello first.

"You better not be sitting at the bar alone, drinking that orange juice you like."

"A sangria isn't just juice, you dick," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"You're such a loser."

You do feel a little bit like a loser, sitting alone at the bar, but you know you shouldn't. You're hours away from your flight to London where you'll have the chance to play tennis in the Olympics. This is all you've ever wanted since you were a child, all you've been working for—sweat, blood, and tears. You can't even remember a time when you've dreamt of something other than this.

Tennis has always been your escape, your sanctuary. You remember those early days when you played with second-hand rackets and makeshift nets, the local court becoming your second home.

And then there was Patrick, your closest… friend(?) and fiercest rival. His encouragement, his competition, and his company kept you grounded and motivated. When the going got tough, the dream felt too distant, and all of it made you feel far too guilty as if you had stolen someone else's life, Patrick was there to reassure you that you deserved it just as much as the next. Without him, you likely would have walked away from the sport you love.

"I can't believe you made it to the Olympics before me," Patrick's voice pulls you back to the present, a mix of envy and pride lacing his words. You can almost see the playful smirk on his face, a familiar expression that often surfaced during your countless matches together.

"I wish you were here, Pat." Your voice softens, the longing evident. It was hard to track down Patrick Zweig, especially while he was constantly on the move, hopping from state to state, playing as many challengers as he could sign up for, each match a stepping stone toward his dream of winning the US Open. And you think he will. You've played against him enough times to know he's better than you at hitting a ball with a racket.

There were nights when you'd both crash in a shabby motel or back at your place after a gruelling day on the court, strategizing and critiquing each other's play styles (sometimes in more than just tennis). His tenacity was a beacon for you, pushing you to strive harder and to reach further.

His voice softens, becoming more earnest. "Yeah, me too. I'll try to get tickets for one of your games in London. If not, I'll catch up with your mom and watch it with her. Is your dad still in the picture?"

You roll your eyes, a reflex to his familiar teasing. "Oh, my god."

"I'm just asking," he chuckles. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, 'cause I've got a date tonight. But call me when you land."

"Oh, yeah, okay." You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but it's hard. It's not like you and Patrick were together, at least not publicly, at least not in the sense that you couldn't see other people. But even as you tell yourself that, a knot tightens in your chest.

It feels a bit teenageish, you think, messing around with friends and acting like it means nothing just to avoid making things awkward. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaving something unsaid, something unacknowledged. Patrick was one of the few people in your life who kept you on your toes and made you feel good—truly good.

Now, the idea of him with someone else, going on dates while you chase your dreams, feels like a betrayal you can't quite articulate. But what right do you have to feel that way? You never made things official, never dared to cross that line.

You never bothered to search for love outside of tennis.

"Have fun on your date," you manage to say. It comes out more brittle than you'd hoped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye!" he says, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. His voice is light and carefree, and why wouldn't it be?

You end the call and set your phone down on the bar with a bit more force than intended, the hollow thud echoing your frustration. The bartender glances your way and you try to flash him an honest smile before ordering another drink. The TV overhead flickers, switching from basketball highlights to a recap of the latest tennis matches. You watch the screen without really seeing it.

The bar is still lively, yet you feel an overwhelming sense of solitude. You can't help but feel like you're stuck in limbo—caught between your dreams and the reality of your personal life.

You take a deep breath and a long sip of the rest of your first drink, the cool liquid doing little to ease the heat of frustration building inside you. You tell yourself you should be happy, grateful even. But right now, all you can think about is Patrick, and how much easier it would be if he were here with you.

But he's not. And maybe he never will be.

Maybe no one will.

Maybe you will die alone, your tennis racket as your only companion.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You turn, startled, "No-" you start, but then the blur of blonde hair comes to focus and you're stumbling over your words, "Art? What- what are you doing here?"

"Oh," he smiles, a shy faint red blush already growing on his pale skin. He sits beside you, almost hesitantly, "Just stopping by the city. I saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." You return his smile, albeit a bit warily.

It's been years since you last spoke to Art properly, though your paths have crossed a few times. You've seen him in magazines, TV, and brief passings usually at major tournaments—Wimbledon, the Australian Open, the US Open. Each time, there were shy smiles and waves from across the room, lingering eyes, and awkward conversations where mutual friends tried to reintroduce you as if you hadn't once known each other

Art looks different every time you see him. His hair, now a little shorter than you remember, still maintains that boyish shagginess. There's a darker tan on his skin, evidence of his time spent under the sun. Some days he has a brighter smile, other days, it's a smile that never reaches his eyes.

As he sits there, you can't help but think of how golden his hair used to look whenever he wore his old Stanford hat, the one he used to pull low over his eyes during your college days. The memory makes you aware that you're staring, maybe a little too long. But he's looking at you too, his blue eyes trailing from one end of your face to the other, as if trying to memorize it all, capturing a photograph of who you are now.

A warmth spreads through you under his gaze, and when he finally looks away, you turn too, tapping at your empty glass, pretending to seem interested in the way the ice has started to melt.

But your eyes betray you, slowly trailing back to him. You watch the way he sits, the way he calls over the bartender and orders himself a glass of water. You try not to notice the deep timbre his voice has gained over the years, and how it resonates in the noisy bar. He looks at you, then the empty seat on your other side, and finally scans the room anxiously, as if he's searching for someone or something.

"He's not here," you finally say, breaking the silence that has grown too heavy. "If that's what you're wondering."

He nods, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "What city is he in now?"

"Vegas, I think."

He makes a face and rests his chin on his hand. "There's no challengers in Vegas this month."

"Then he's just visiting. I don't know." The truth is, you don't want to talk about Patrick right now. Especially not with Art. Not after the way they ended things. You watch Art shrug, and the bartender sets your drink in front of you. You take a grateful sip, savouring the blend of flavours. Art holds his glass carefully, and the two of you sit in strained silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

You can't help but ask, "What are you doing here? In Manhattan?"

"I have an interview tomorrow. For the New York Times," Art says, leaning back slightly. He seems a little surprised as if he expected you to sit there without acknowledging him for the whole night. It makes you wonder what he thinks of you. "They're doing a piece on my career, the highs, the lows... the beginning and stuff."

You study his face, trying to gauge his emotions. You know what it's like to be interviewed, to have a team of people making you look your best for photos and another team crafting answers to help you maintain your reputation. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at once. "Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Olympics? That's huge..." He continues talking, his lips moving, but you’re barely registering the words. For the first time that night, he seems genuinely enthusiastic, a faint spark in his eyes as he talks about you, about London, gesturing with his hand in excitement.

That's when you notice it. The gold around his finger. It glimmers under the warm lights of the bar, catching your eye like a beacon. You can't stop staring at it even after he's done talking.

"Oh, yeah. It's great." The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. You struggle to find the right response, not wanting to be rude. "You're married?"

His face falls, and he looks down at his hand resting on his lap. "Oh, yeah, yeah. We, uh..." He scratches the back of his head, his eyes darting up to meet yours briefly before looking away. He seems nervous, like he's bracing for your reaction, worried to tell you, as if you weren’t supposed to know at all. "We got married last year. We kept pushing the date for a while because we were... we were busy... and stuff just kept getting in the way."

"We...?"

"Tashi."

"Tashi," you echo, the name tasting foreign and bitter on your tongue. "You're married? You married each other?"

He nods, "Yeah, we've been engaged for a few years now. You haven't heard?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "No, uh. My coach tries to keep me away from certain news... my mom suggested it. So I don't get uh, distracted."

This is exactly the kind of situation your team has been trying to avoid.

The reality of his words sinks in, and you feel a sharp pang of something—loss, regret, maybe even jealousy. The air around you feels thicker and harder to breathe. Each word he says feels like another brick being laid on your chest, pressing down, making it harder to stay composed.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You force a smile, but it's a fragile thing, threatening to shatter at any moment. "That's... that's great, Art. I'm happy for you. Really. How was... how was the wedding?" Your mind races with thoughts of broken promises and missed opportunities. You imagine Tashi in her wedding dress; you know she looked beautiful. The image stabs at you, and you wince.

"It was beautiful. Both our families came in, and we kept it traditional, in a church. It was..." He pauses, watching you before adding, "It was a small ceremony. Private. Just family."

His words twist the knife deeper. Tashi's family used to see you as such. "No, yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want any trouble at the wedding. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the both of you." You turn to the bartender, desperate to keep your voice steady. "Hey, can I get another drink? Something stronger?"

Patrick was right; your stupid orange juice won't get you through the night.

Art watches you with concern, his brow furrowing. "How many of those have you had?"

You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Not enough."

"Does your coach know you're drinking?"

"Does yours know you're talking to me?"

Art leans back, his posture stiffening. He turns to his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he takes another sip. The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable. You watch as he processes your words, his expression shifting from defensiveness to something more pained. You instantly feel a pang of guilt, realizing you've struck a nerve.

You've heard all about Tashi's coaching with Art. Whispers in the locker rooms during tournaments, hushed conversations about how she's pushing him until he cracks. You never wanted to believe it, never wanted to think that Tashi, of all people, would be the one to break him down.

"She calls you Ace, you know."

You make a face at the name. A journalist had written an article about you a few years ago when you won your first US Open, nicknaming you Ace since your serves were almost impossible to hit. The nickname stuck, plastered across headlines, magazine covers, and merchandise. People even bet on you becoming the youngest tennis player with the most aces in history before the season ended. You were only off by a dozen.

"Does she?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected.

"You do have a killer serve."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Killer." The word feels bitter on your tongue. "Tashi used to hit those back at me like it was nothing."

Art nods, taking another sip of his drink before pausing to look at you. "Only 'cause she knows you."

"Knew," you correct him.

The silence stretches again, heavier this time. You're about to say something, anything to break it, when Art speaks again, his voice softer, more earnest.

"I miss you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I do," he insists, leaning forward, his eyes searching yours. "I miss hanging out with you. I miss playing with you. Watching your games live and not recorded on my TV."

"Art, c'mon." You feel the dread crawling up your throat, wishing you had left the bar sooner. Every word he says seems to pull you deeper into a past you've been trying to escape. Art has done nothing but throw you off your game all night.

"I miss you outside of tennis, too," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss our late-night walks, studying in the library. You remember those?"

"Of course I do."

"Tashi misses you, too," he says, and you can tell he's crossing a line, testing your patience. You can feel the corner of your mouth twitch, your eyes unable to meet his. "She tells me every night. She's always keeping up with your stats, watching all of your games, rewatching your old ones. She makes notes for you, how you could improve. She wants to coach you."

"Art, stop it," you finally snap, turning to face him. The night feels ruined, any semblance of peace shattered. Was this all some elaborate scheme against you? After all these years, is this how they repay you? Out of spite? Is that what it is, a way to get back at you because you somehow got it all, and Tashi's taking whatever she can scrape off from Art?

"I don't want her to coach me. And I highly doubt she wants to coach me either."

"I booked the hotel," he says suddenly, his voice softer, more sincere. "She doesn't know you're here. And I really think it will be good for you two to talk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, placing it carefully on the bar in front of you. "Here's our room number. I'll be out tonight with some friends, so the room is yours till late. Just, don't kill each other or break anything if you fight."

"I'm not going—"

"She really does miss you," he interrupts, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, might relent.

You stare at the piece of paper, feeling its presence like a burning brand. Art stands up, hesitating for a moment as if he wants to say more but thinks better of it. "I mean it. Think about it," he murmurs before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space of your mind.

You watch him go, each step he takes pulling at the threads of your carefully constructed facade. As he nears the entrance, your eyes follow him instinctively, and that's when you see her. Tashi. She's standing there, with her bags looking around with a familiar intensity, her eyes scanning the room until they lock onto yours.

You feel sick.

Meeting Art was a pleasant surprise; he makes your heart race and your cheeks burn. But Tashi makes your heart stop and your brain shut off.

She looks different—older, more mature, hair straight and cut to a mid-length but also a lighter colour—but still heartbreakingly familiar. Her eyes widen slightly as she recognizes you.

She opens her mouth as if to say something when Art stands next to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, but no words come out.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

The weight of her gaze is too much. You're the first to look away. You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. "Excuse me," you mutter to the bartender, slapping a couple of bucks on the counter. Your voice feels distant, and detached, as if it belongs to someone else.

You push through the crowd, your mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. You need air. You need space.

As you reach the elevator, you can feel Tashi's eyes still on you. But you keep moving, your footsteps quickening with each step. You need to focus on tennis. That's the only thing that's never let you down.

Tashi had once picked tennis over you, and now it was your turn to do the same.

You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it as you finally let out the breath you've been holding. The walls seem to close in on you, and you slide down to the floor.

You need to remember why you're here. For the game. For the dream. And that has to be enough.

Only one problem.

You can't sleep.

Hours later, you find yourself in the hotel gym, the quiet hum of the machines the only sound in the stillness of the night. Your mind is racing, a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions you can't control. Desperate for an outlet, you hop on a treadmill and start running, hoping to exhaust yourself into some semblance of peace.

Anything is better than sitting in the hotel lobby, scouring the internet on the public computer for any proof of Art and Tashi's marriage while drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Art was right, it was a small wedding. There were almost no photos of it caught by the paparazzi, only articles upon articles talking about it, magazine covers and everything. God, how could you have missed this? How out of the loop were you?

There was only one photo posted, and it was from Tashi's Facebook and Instagram from less than a year ago; a picture of just her hand holding onto Art's, where you can see her wedding ring. There was no caption. But the photo had millions of likes.

You wonder if Patrick knew. He probably did. He stalks her account religiously and only recently started to tone it down. And then there's you, who had her blocked on everything since your last argument.

The music playing in your ears drowns out the world around you, a heavy beat pulsing as you hum along. Your eyes fixate on the rising numbers on the treadmill screen, sometimes glancing out the window at the city skyline, other times catching your silhouette in the glass reflection.

Sweat makes your clothes cling to you like a second skin, rolling down your spine in rivulets. You're still a little tipsy from your drinks, the taste lingering in your cheeks, but you think you're sober enough that a few more miles will drain it all out.

Art's words are burned into your mind. The wedding you were never invited to, how he suddenly wants to be friends again. You can see where he's coming from; tennis is lonely. You're lonely. You press the button to go faster, your legs burning as you push yourself harder, trying to escape the thoughts that chase you.

You don't hear the door click open, and it takes a few seconds for you to spot the reflection of someone walking behind you in the window's reflection, rolling out a pink yoga mat. But they don't step onto it, they don't move, and even worse, you catch their eye in the reflection.

Fuck.

It's Tashi Duncan.

Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly look away, panic setting in. You turn your music up higher and make the treadmill run faster, the machine whirring louder in response. Your pulse races, not just from the exertion, but from the presence of the one person you can't bear to face right now.

In the corner of your eye, you see her approach you. When you hear her call out your name between songs, you pretend you can't hear her. You pretend to be captivated by the sight of the city at night, pretend that you're lost in the music as P!nk's voice blares into your ears, cursing out one of her old lovers.

You wonder how long you can keep the act up.

Tashi moves with a determination that you've always admired and feared. She walks around your treadmill, eyes locked onto you with a fierce intensity. Without hesitation, she reaches down and unplugs the machine from the wall, forcing it to power down abruptly.

Not long enough.

"What the fuck?" You huff, yanking out your earbuds. "What's your fucking problem?"

"You're my problem," she says, her voice steady, unyielding as she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't said a word to you."

"And that's my problem. I'm talking to you," Her gaze bores into yours, refusing to be ignored. You can see the resolve in her eyes, the same decisiveness that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court.

"I'm busy," you snap, and your breath comes in ragged gasps, both from the exertion and the emotional storm raging inside you. You feel trapped, cornered by the very person you’ve been trying to avoid.

You bite your tongue, stepping off the treadmill and walking around her when she steps in front of you. You make a straight line for your bag, watching her from the mirrors as she follows you closely.

"Can you listen?" It's more of a demand than an ask, "I just... Art told me what he did. He's a little shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You have other shit to worry about."

You're taking long chugs from your water, staring at her without saying a word. Part of it is because you have nothing to say to her, and another is because you're afraid that if you speak, she'll see through you.

Tashi's eyes roam over you, lingering on your shorts and the way the wires from your earbuds snake from your iPod, under your tank, and peek out from under your sports bra. Her gaze is both appraising and filled with something unresolved between you. When you don't respond, she sighs. "You look great, by the way. On the court. You've changed your approach. You're vicious."

The compliment stings more than it soothes. You still don't say anything, letting the silence stretch between you like a chasm.

"...Or maybe you've always been. I haven't seen you in a long time. So a lot could've changed, I don't know."

You lower your bottle, swallowing the water. It feels cold as it runs down your throat, a stark contrast to the heat of your rising anger. You can't help the way your eyes drop to her hand when you pull your hair down from its ponytail. The sight of the ring on her finger feels like a punch to the gut.

She notices.

"We didn't want you to find out this way."

Your eyes snap up to hers. "And how was I supposed to find out?"

Tashi looks taken aback for a moment, her confident façade faltering. She takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I don't know. Maybe we should've told you. Should've invited you. But I thought... I thought it would be easier for you if you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had."

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of any real amusement. "Easier?

"Look," Tashi begins, her voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "I'm not a fan of the way I ended things. But I think that keeping a grudge for this long is embarrassing. We were teenagers."

"You're right," you concede with a bitter chuckle, "it is embarrassing. But you know what's even more embarrassing?" Your voice rises, fueled by a mixture of frustration and hurt. "Having your husband come to me and tell me how much he misses me. And how you miss me. But you don't have the guts to tell me that yourself, do you? Do you miss me, Tashi?"

"Of course I miss you," she scoffs, her tone defensive. "You were my best friend. My serving partner. We played and won doubles together."

"Is that all I was to you?"

"Was there supposed to be anything more?"

There it is, the moment you've been dreading, the confrontation you've been avoiding. You can feel the familiar ache in your chest, "You know I fucking loved you, Tashi," you admit. "And yeah, whatever, everyone loved you. No one could get enough of Tashi Duncan. But you know damn well I loved you for more than just that."

"Loved?" She steps closer, her eyes searching yours. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No," you tell her. "I don't. I dropped out of your groupie a while ago."

"What do you love, then?" Her voice is almost a whisper, the distance between you closing.

"I love tennis," you confess, your gaze never leaving hers. "I love winning. Turns out I'm great at both. And I love that too. And people love me. That's more than you could ever give me. Or Art."

"Even Patrick?" The mention of his name is a sharp jab; she's trying to get under your skin.

"I don't know, you tell me." You're taunting her. And you love the way she falters for a split second. "You saw him at the Open last year, didn't you?"

The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you. "Listen," she says, her voice dropping lower, "I just came here to tie some loose ends. For Art's sake. He says It'll be good for me."

"Okay," you reply, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation in your favour. Hook, line and sinker. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Hook.

Tashi's eyes narrow slightly, but she takes the bait, her expression shifting to one of determination. "You raise your arm too high when you serve. You're gonna dislocate your shoulder one day."

"I bet you're waiting for the day I do."

"I can make you the best."

"Am I not already?"

Line.

"You're one of the best at most. But not the best. I'd be surprised if you bring back bronze. You're too short-tempered for silver. Let me coach you. I'll make sure you bring back gold."

"I don't need you," you say, the words catching in your throat.

"We both know you do," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

And sinker.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. The words hang in the air, a silent challenge. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without another thought, your lips crash together in a desperate kiss, a release of all the pent-up tension and longing that has simmered between you for far too long.

It's a whirlwind of heat and passion, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume everything in its path. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your body pressed against hers with a fierce urgency.

The kiss deepens a symphony of desire and desperation, all the words you couldn't say pouring into it with a fervour that borders on reckless abandon. You can feel yourself start to become absorbed into the bubble that is Tashi Duncan, it sucks you in, and it scares you, makes you feel as if you're sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

She grips the back of your neck, hard enough that her nails dig into the skin. Tashi waits for your gasp, and when you do, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, past your teeth until it collides with your own.

You're moaning, groaning into her mouth with the way she shoves you until your back hits the mirror behind you. You're arching into her at the way she fucking smiles against your lips at your reaction.

It's pathetic. You're pathetic. Almost in the same way Art is. You know it. She knows it. But in your defence, it's been a while since you've been kissed, it's been a while since someone's touched you this way, with heat and flavour. You're a little dizzy from it, cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

Tashi sucks your tongue into her mouth and you buck your hips against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

There's a sweetness that lingers when she bites your lip, you wonder if she's wearing lipgloss, maybe chapstick. You hope she can't tell you've been drinking, that talking to Art made you spiral, that you've been bluffing since the moment she walked into the gym. Since the night she packed her things and told you she was leaving Stanford, her scholarship has no use since she can't play anymore.

When her hands run down your neck to your waist, gliding over the sweat on your skin, you can feel the cold touch of her wedding ring. It's frigid, making you shiver when Tashi starts to lick up the column of your throat. You almost feel bad about how wet you've become.

"Tashi..." you huff, her hands found their way to the base of your ass, guiding you to rock faster against her, only making you whine. Her grasp is tight, wanting. She pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your crotch closer to hers and then pushing you back down on her leg. She repeats the motion a few times, rolling her own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto her.

Tashi rewards you with a quiet moan—oh, you want her to do that again, you're going to make her do that again, louder and louder—and then, with a touch so light you could cry, she traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

You can feel your stomach nearly drop, "You're married, Tashi."

She pulls away just to laugh at you. One finger traces your slit through your shorts, and you hear yourself moan. She raises her brows, a challenging look in her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

You try to scoff, but the cold glass of the mirror behind you squeaks when you shift. Even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once.

"What would Art say?" You try to say, your hair falling over your face as you try to collect some kind of morality. If you were caught, you can already imagine the headlines and the stories people would write about you. "What would he do if he found us right now?"

"I don't know," Tashi hums, leaning closer. She pretends to think as if the answer isn't obvious, teasing you a little when she gets close enough to kiss you but doesn't. "He'd probably ask to join."

You can't stop the way that thought alone makes you melt. You remember the jokes Patrick used to make back when you were in college, of you and Tashi being his wet dreams. You can almost imagine, how he would moan at everything, want everything, his whiney moans too similar to the ones he makes when he's on the court.

Tashi rubs gently at your pussy a few more times like she's exploring you, and then suddenly she taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and she sighs against your mouth. "You're so wet. You like it when I touch you?"

"Yeah, please... touch me." You nod. And in your head, you're telling yourself you only like it because you haven't been with anyone since Patrick left for his tour.

Tashi kisses you again, and it's a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath her shirt she starts to fumble with your waistband, and you're both angry and resentful and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet.

Her fingers are clumsily slipping into your underwear and then she's there, her fingers are brushing right against your clit—you're so wet that her fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time she reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Tashi leaves you gasping and she teases you for it. "So sensitive," she taunts against your lips, pressing her thumb against your clit so she can see you squirm, pumping her fingers at an urgent pace to hear you moan. "So needy."

With each movement, she scissors her fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and she starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? I am, aren't I? I'm exactly what you need. C'mon say you want me. Tell me you need me, Ace."

"Maybe—" You're breathless, and the nickname has you tugging at her hair again, "Shit, I saw the way you made Art. He... oh god... he wouldn't be half the athlete without you. I also... I also wouldn't want to ruin my shoulder... while—while serving."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

For a moment, you worry that you've fallen for a trap, that you've said too much. You're vulnerable, a little drunk on lust and wine, and Tashi isn't stupid to not catch your sapphic crush on her since the two of you became friends, an old high school love that's never really disappeared, from slumber party kisses and how you've gawked at her, at her husband and even her ex-boyfriend.

"C'mon, Tash, you're always talking about tennis."

"Not this time."

You barely catch onto what she says. Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that she's given up on pumping her fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach—"I think I'm close... oh, I don't—fuck—keep touching me like that."

She bites your neck until you say her name. You pull her hair until she moans. Her touch is blistering against your skin. She says your name in a breathy drawl like she's pleading with you, humouring you, wanting to take everything from you.

"Keep going, please, please don't stop," you all but shout, and Tashi continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of her hand means the heel of her palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into her hand—you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you.

Every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Tashi whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming—

Distantly, you can feel her fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting—and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto her lap—but other than that, all you know is the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once. A hot sting against your skin that reminds you of the sun whenever you're on the tennis court, deep into the game you've turned into the love of your life.

It can't have possibly been this long since the last time you've gotten laid, right?

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Tashi is heaving for breath against your shoulder and her fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. "You're so pretty, you know that? No tennis talk."

You lean your head back against the mirror, a slow grin forming on your lips, "You don't think I'm pretty when I play."

"I think you're hot when you play."

You peek a glance at Tashi, meeting her eyes as she watches you, watching the way you catch your breath, skin shining against the fluorescent lights of the gym, similar to how you shine on the court. Yeah, you're a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Tashi takes slow, taunting steps back and away from you, and then she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes, you can see the most fucked-out look on her face just at the taste of your cum.

She licks her fingers clean—you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight—before opening her eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "I'll be in my room," she rolls up her pink mat (which she never used) and picks up her bag, "I'm sure you know the number. I'm hoping you can return the favour and touch me or something. You know, before you leave in the morning."

tags 🏷️: @begoniaespresso / @sceletaflores / @too-deviant / @wolflover384 / @sevikasblackgf / @supercutszns / @diorrfairy / @24kmar / @apolloscastellan

reblog to support your writers!

© sunsburns.tumblr 2024. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[thattechygirl]

Happy Accidents - An Encanto Fic - Julieta x Agustín

Julieta was in the town centre, doing her usual job of healing the townspeople of the Encanto. Her siblings were off doing their own chores, and her mother, Alma was at home in their Casita, meeting with townspeople in need and listing down ways to help them.

Julieta is the most admired of her siblings, being the "golden child" of the Madrigal Triplets. All the girls wanted to be her, and all the boy wanted to be with her. Julieta, however, was not much of a fan of all her attention. She'd much rather just focus on her cooking and healing, and find love in her own time.

"Next!" She called out to growing queue of the sick and injured. The next person walked forward, her expression changed to concern, as she recognised a familiar face. "Again, Agustín? This is the third time this week." She said, handing him an arepa. "You know me, I'm just the clumsiest and most accident-prone person in the Encanto." He said bashfully, as he took a bite of the arepa. "You've got to be more careful." Julieta replied, with a caring tone. "I'll try..." He nodded, waving goodbye to the healer. "Next!" Her duties continued, and the queue got smaller, until there was nobody left and Julieta packed up her things and returned home.

~~~

"You okay, Juli? You see quite distracted." Pepa asked, snapping her sister out of her daze. Julieta turned her attention to her sister. "I'm fine, don't worry. I was just thinking about something." Julieta replied. Pepa grinned. "You wouldn't happen to be thinking about Agustín, are you?" She questioned. Julieta's cheeks developed a faint red glow. "Not it that way, Pepa! I'm just worried about him." She replied. "He's always finding himself in situations that lead him to need healing." "What if he's doing it on purpose?" Pepa suggested. "What? You can't be serious. Why would he do that!?" Julieta stared at her sister in shock. "Because he likes you! It's so obvious!" Pepa exclaimed. "Pepa, most of the boys in the Encanto like me." "But you like him back! Come on, take a chance." Pepa said, a rainbow forming above her head in excitement. "I'm not interested in romance right now. I have far too much to do as it is." Julieta explained. "Juli, you can still find time for romance between all your responsibilities. I mean Félix and I have been going strong for the past few months." Pepa replied, her rainbow fading slightly in disappointment. "Don't be like Bruno." She added. "HEY!" They heard their brother call from the other side of the room, briefly putting down the book he was reading. Julieta sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll try." Pepa squealed in excitement.

~~~

The next morning, Julieta returned to her usual location in town, and placed all the food she had cooked the previous night down on the table. Pepa walked past her, on her way to water the crops. "Remember what we talked about!" She called out to her sister as she walked past. Julieta nodded, but Pepa had disappeared before she could see it.

The day went by as normal for Julieta, and soon it was nearing the evening. Julieta was thankful that she had not seen Agustín throughout the day, but she was also worried, because of how out of character it was for him. Just as Julieta was about to pack up her things, Agustín came running towards her, covered in bee stings. "Julieta! Wait!" He called out. Julieta turned around and her eyes went wide when she saw him. "Were you attacked by a whole swarm?" She asked, concerned. "Their hive fell on the ground and cracked open while I was walking past..." Agustín confessed. Julieta handed him an arepa and gestured for him to sit down on the bench. "There's something that I wanted to tell you." She began. Agustín looked at her in confusion. "I've gotten to know you quite well from all your visits to me, despite how unfortunate the circumstances are. Truthfully, I think over time, I've begun to develop feelings for you." She confessed. Agustín's face flushed. "Oh... Uh... I definitely wasn't expecting you to say that." He replied. "B-but...I like you too." He stuttered. Julieta smiled. "Would you like to go out sometime?" "Like a date?" Agustín questioned. "Mhmm. Like a date." Julieta replied. "Y-yes. That would be nice." Agustín answered. "Great. We'll figure it out later, because I have to return home." Julieta spoke. "Oh... Okay..." Agustín said, sadly. "Don't worry. Knowing you, we'll see each other again tomorrow." Julieta joked playfully. Agustín smiled in response. Julieta grabbed her things and headed off towards Casita, waving at Agustín as she left.

~~~

(Bonus)

"You didn't actually arrange the date!? Are you serious?!" Pepa exclaimed, disappointedly. "I had to come home. Besides, I'll see him again tomorrow." Julieta replied. "You don't know that for sure, though!" Pepa argued. "Bruno, check if Juli will see him again tomorrow!" "D-don't drag me into this!" Bruno said, hiding behind his book.

~~~

(If you would like me to write a one-shot about Julieta and Agustín's date, I would be open to doing so. This one-shot was simply meant to be how I interpret their relationship could have begun.)

[pink02]

can u do camilo×yn, the idea is based loosely on hunger games when peeta lost his memories and was rather cold towards katniss. It's when casita fell, yn is trapped inside and camilo 's practically going crazy at one point. When camilo finds his s/o they've passed out. So when camilo hears that yn regains consciousness, he runs to her but the adults are shaking their head telling him its better if he doesnt but he ignores them and is about to hug yn but they back away like "who r u"- (next)

I'm Right Here

Camilo Madrigal x Reader

Genre: Angst/ Hurt no comfort (for now)

Summary: The Casita was on the brink of collapse and you tried to save your friend Mirabel before the top part of the house fell over her yet Camilo tried to save you even though he too attempted to reach both his cousin and the candle.

Trigger warning: Injured reader, Casita falling, mention of blood, someone getting slapped, possible cliffhanger.

A/n: Hunger games and the Mockingjay gives me goosebumps just by remembering it cause that's where I always idolize Katniss and the love dynamic she had with Peeta JGHJSVXJHAIUS

Beta read, ignore any grammatical errors.

♡♡ Masterlist ♡♡

You and Camilo were chatting and laughing around, hand in hand as both of you walked back to the Casita after seeing the different and strange types of plants that popped out all around the town. One almost stained your clothes with the vibrant blue powder emitting it out from its buds. You even laughed hysterically at the shapeshifter just as a random cacti sprung under him making him yelped in surprise and pain from the prickly thorns.

"That hurts you know." Camilo playfully shoved your shoulder making you snicker.

"Don't whine, we'll get some of your tia's food in no time." You pulled his arm closer to you as you led him to the front door of his house. "Yeah, yeah."

Your smile shifted into a frown as you heard the loud banters of Mirabel and Abuela from the inside. "Whats going on?" you asked as both of you entered.

Cracks dispersed all over the floor up to the walls once you saw Mirabel stood away from her family as a crack had divided between her and her Abuela. Your grip around Camilo's hand tightened, everywhere around you started to crumble and shake thus panic arise as you heard Señor Felix's yell. "The candle!"

At queue, your eyes flickered up to the candle seeing it's slowly fading and cracks railed over the window. Down by your peripheral vision, you saw Mirabel bolting up to the candle trying to save it.

"Mirabel stop!" You heard Julieta shout out to her daughter.

Like instincts, your hand left Camilo's to which you sprinted after her trying to catch up. "Mirabel!" You called after.

Aside from Camilo, Mirabel was always the one by your side to where you always have each other even though she was different from her family. Her family and their gifts are what she always cherish upon and thus she would do anything to protect the miracle and her family. She was your first best friend and will always be, and now seeing the scene unraveled, your body moved by its own as to your first and initial thoughts was to help and protect her.

"Casita! Bring me up there!" You heard the girl shout to which panic and adrenaline coarse into your veins.

"[Name]!" You heard Camilo over by the back yet you ignored him and continued on catching up to the girl with the green rimmed glasses.

"Mirabel it's dangerous!" You shout as you climbed up after her with the makeshift ladder.

The walls and floors began to shake as the house rumble out. Furnitures quake and fell all around you as they break down. Chaos emits into the air as birds and other animals flock out from Antonio's room. "Mirabel! [Name]!" The Madrigals kept calling your names.

Your head turns to your left seeing that Camilo was about to jump up to the top of the roof. "Camilo be careful!" You gasped as he turned back into his original form, falling. You were about to run down but when you turned to Mirabel, she almost slipped to which you immediately pushed yourself up to the roof tiles and tried to catch her. "Ahh!" You shrieked as your foot fell into a hole on the roof.

"[Name]!" Camilo saw you and tried to climb up after you though the floor tiles of the Casita took immediate action and pushed the rest of them out of the house. "No! Mirabel! [Name]!!" The boy stood and desperately banged the front door open once they were outside. His parents held onto Camilo's ruana. "Camilo stop!" Pepa yelled in plea.

"Casita!! Let me in!!" He kicked and pushed the door open yet didn't prevailed. Alma stood agape once she stood up with the help of Luisa, the Casita is falling and its all her fault.

You struggled trying to hoist yourself up but then you felt hands over your upper body. You looked up seeing it was Mirabel trying help you. "What are you doing?! I'm fine, just leave!" You yelled and tried to grip onto Mirabel but she was too stubborn to move. "No! I'm not leaving without you!" She shouts back as she tried to pull you out.

You noticed a crack snaked up to the highest part of the house, breaking a whole chunk of the tower. "Casita!! Protect Mirabel!!" Suddenly, you pushed her with all of your might just as the Wall behind you fall over. "No!!"

Dread washed over the shapeshifter's face as he saw most of the house toppled over and roofs surging down to the ground. "Mierde!!" He shouts in frustration.

He shouldn't have let you escaped from his grasp, he should have pulled you away once he knew something dangerous might happen. He was just a second too late to pull you closer to him. You were just a step away yet his hand didn't reached out to you. He was too busy trying to save the candle that he thought you could be safe on your own. Oh who is he kidding? Of course you won't be safe. The house is falling for god sake.

"Mirabel! [Name]!" His family called at the two once again as the dust and debris cleared out. Everything was in ruins, from the furniture down to the foundation. Camilo urgently went into the demolished house and saw Julieta holding onto Mirabel.

"Mirabel!" He called feeling a glint of hope seeing that his prima was okay. He dashed towards them and pulled Mirabel close to him. "Where's [Name]?!" He practically yelled, he didn't mean to sound harsh but the frustration had already built up inside him that he couldn't help but to worry.

"I-I.." The poor girl was dumbfounded and dazed, covered up in dust. Mirabel was too stunned to speak that she left her cousin tense up in panic. Everything was all a blur to her after you pushed her off the roof, Casita enveloped her with the remaining furniture to cover her from the falling debris. She didn't even know if you made it out in time.

"[Name] is here!!" The Madrigal boy surged his head towards the voice, it was his sister and Luisa trying to lift up a piece concrete. He immediately went to their side and began to help lift the slab of rock away, it made it hard to push the heavy rock up since Luisa had already lost her ability.

"[Name]!" Camilo instantly paled once he saw your unconscious state. Your body laid flat covered in dust and rubble whilst the piece of concrete was above you.

The boy knelt and pulled you into his lap carefully as tears brimmed onto the corner of his eyes. Blood trickled down from your forehead and scratches and wounds were evident on your body. "Tía Julieta!" He called and looked for his aunt thinking that she might help them.

He knows that their gifts are gone but he want to believe that she could still help you heal, he wanted to think that there was still hope. His eyes peered down at you once more as silent hicks slowly emits out from his throat. "[Name] wake up... please mi vida."

"Please... I'm right here..."

The Casita was rebuilt and their gifts are back, everything is back, his missing tío is back, Mirabel is back, the peace is back, just... just not you...

Its been a month since the Casita was rebuilt, a month of you still unconscious in your bed. Camilo didn't blamed anyone, not even Mirabel, of course he couldn't blame her, you only tried to save her and he was thankful enough that you did since she was equally important just as the rest of his family. But you, you more important than anyone else to him, that's why when your parents knew about your condition, he could only blame himself and himself only since he dragged you into this mess. You shouldn't have... he shouldn't have... Mierde.

The shapeshifter paced down back and forth in front of your bedroom door as he picks onto his fingernails from anxiety and nervousness. He got the news, your parents announced that you had gained consciousness but the shred of fear and guilt was still nailed into his chest that he couldn't get rid of. A thousand what if's coursing into his brain, thinking that you might not want to see him again, or or be mad at him... No! Why would you be mad at him?! Would you blame him for not saving you?! Or worse... you won't...

"Por favor, I hope not..." Camilo muttered out loud as his brows furrowed, biting his thumb and crossing his arms.

Your family, tía Julieta and his parents are inside with you, he only waited outside to let them finish so that you two could have an alone time to talk. He wanted to see you but it was already crowded inside so might as well he would have to wait a little longer.

The door suddenly opened revealing his parents and his tía. Frowns were on their faces as they noticed the shapeshifter. Something was already off about it and he wanted to know.

"How is [Name]?" He asked nervously. The adults looked between themselves as Julieta started to speak.

"Their wounds are now healed but I don't think it's the right time for you to visit, mijo." Julieta spoke quietly and softly.

"What? why?!" The boy asked confused to which he turned to his mother.

"[Name] just woke up... and... I think you should let them rest for a while, Camilo." Pepa gripped onto her husband's hand as she tried not to let her lips quiver.

This made him more confused. Why won't they let him see you? Doesn't he havs the rights to see you? Are they forbidding him? Do your parents didn't want to let you meet him? Why?

"No, I want to see [Name]." He huffed as he pushed through his parents. He had waited for so long just to see you awake. He wants to talk to you himself, hugs you, embrace you, kiss you, to hear your beautiful voice, to see your glimmering eyes once more. He wants to see you now, he already misses you.

"Camilo, No! It's not the right time!" Julieta tried to pull him out of the room but he held onto the door frame tight as he shapeshifts into a child successfully escaped from her. "No! I want to see them!"

He could see your head turn towards him to which he immediately ran up to you shifting back. "Mi vida!" The Madrigal boy called as he pulled you into a kiss.

He couldn't believe it, you're here, in his arms safe and well. For all the times he kept on visiting you day by day just to see you awake, he thank the gods for letting you live. God he missed the taste of your soft sweet lips, he could have melted there as he held you close.

"I'm so glad you're awake." He smiled as he pulled away holding onto your cheeks softly. Your eyes went wide in shock, speechless from the sudden event.

The room suddenly fell silent as a hard slap was heard. Camilo stood frozen as a red hand print was visible on his cheek, stomach dropped as the fear inside him rose up into his veins.

You stared at him with an intensive glare. "Who are you?"

Taglist: @eventideschildinthetardis @sunnth @dai-tsukki-desu @ale-creates-worlds @camilos-mivida join taglist here!

A/n: So... Camilo has no common knowledge. Though I can't blame him since he didn't knew you woke up and having no recollection on where you are or who he was.

Don't worry peeps I'm making a second part! There's more to come!

[legendary-pancakes]

french-english botw translation analysis or whatever

so a friend of mine directed my attention to a fun little translation thingy in botw, specifically in zelda's awakening and now im invested so here's a full side-by-side comparison of the french and english versions.

so first of all, the first words zelda says in the english version are "Link, save yourself! Go! I'll be fine! Don't worry about me! Run!"

in the french version she says "Ça suffit... Arrête, arrête! Je t'en prie, ne te sacrifie pas pour rien! Sauve-toi!" this directly translates to "That's enough... stop, stop! I beg of you, don't sacrifice yourself for nothing! Save yourself!"

then when her power awakens, english zelda shouts "NO!" while french zelda shouts "Arrête!" ("Stop!"). the tone of her voice in french is very different from english, in english she sounds desperate and is at the end of her rope, but in french she yells stop in a very commanding tone, like she's done with this life-threatening nonsense.

once the magic blast fades, english zelda says "Was... Was that...? The power..." queue link falling over. french zelda says "Qu'est-ce... Qu'est-ce que... J'ai... J'ai..." which is "What... What was... I... I..."

zelda runs to link's side, and says "No, no... Link! Get up!" french zelda says "Oh non, non! Tu ne peux pas mourir!" which is "Oh no, no! You can't die!"

then english zelda says "You're going to be just fine..." and link looks at her like 'no girl im not i'm litterally dying in your arms'

and then french zelda says "Je t'en prie, ne meurs pas..." which means "I'm begging you, don't die..." (this is the line comparison that inspired this analysis btw) and like. augh. that's a lot more emotional than "You're going to be just fine..." (i'm not sad you're sad)

then link dies, zelda cries, fun times for everyone

the master sword does a little light show, and english zelda says "The sword...? So he can... He can still be saved?" french zelda says "Il n'est pas encore perdu? Link... peut encore être sauvé?" which means "He is not yet lost? Link... can still be saved?"

then everybody's favourite part: the two sheikah guys run over, yelling "Princess!" and "Votre Altesse!" ("Your Highness!"). in english they then says "Princess! Are you alright?!" and in french its "Votre Altesse! Vous êtes sauve!" which is "Your Highness! Your are safe!"

zelda, with a determined sparkle™ in her eye, tells them "Take Link to the Shrine of Resurrection. If you don't get him there immediately, we are going to lose him forever! Is that clear?!" in french, she says "J'ai une mission à vous confier. Emmenez ce garçon au sanctuaire de la Renaissance. Hâtez-vous!" which is "I have a mission to confide in you. Take this boy to the sanctuary of Rebirth. Be fast!"

sheikah dudes nod, zelda says "So make haste and go! His life is now in your hands!" french zelda says "Emmenez le, avant que... Avant que sa flamme ne s'étaigne!" which is "Take him, before... before his flame goes out!" this is more dramatic in my opinion

general thoughts on all this:

english zelda seems more desperate/shows her emotions more, while french zelda seems to hold it together until link falls over, where she begs him not to die.

i also find it interesting that eng. zelda tells the sheikah dudes, "Take Link to the Shrine of Resurrection." while fr. zelda says "Take this boy" like its just some random 17-year-old who died defending her

tldr; i think the french translation is better, if only for the drama and emotions

[trash-monkey]

Tasheylu:

(v) a bond, a neutral connection

Chapter 5

"Things here." (Na'vi name) spoke in broken English while pointing at a large compound when we broke through the tree line and stepped onto concrete.

"Wow." Fall from my lips at the site of the old compound with plants over growing it, the last piece of the puzzle I need to know that I'm not the first person to step foot onto this planet. I followed (Na'vi name) through a hole in the wired fence that surrounds the place before he gesture me towards the door which I give him a nod and jog to it. With a struggle I turn the wheel and try to opens it but it's been so long since it's last been open that the joints have rusted only allowing me to crack it open a few inches but not a enough for me to slip through, seeing that I'm have trouble (Na'vi name) grabs the edge pulling it open for me.

"Thanks." I mumbled to him before carefully step through the frame and into the termination wash, surprisingly the second door open more easier then the first. Walking down the hallway and pass through a door that has been left open to find a large circular shape room filled with monitors, computers, and some type of beds with lids. Taking note of the door at the other end of the room I take the long hall on my left to find different stations with more computers and papers until I walked into a slightly larger room with two large tubs, one is empty but the second has a person similar to (Na'vi name) floating in some type of liquid with wide eyes I watch has he twitches showing that he's alive and what scares me the most is that this person looks exactly like me.

"Hey" I call out to (Na'vi name) as I step outside, he walks back over from watching the tree line where O'ziteh is playing around in the trees.

"It'll take sometime so I need to fix somethings to get everything working again." (Na'vi name) nods understand what I'm getting at, in order to find things to fix my ship I need the place working again.

"You si (do) tsakem (that (action)), I zamunge (bring) metal thing fitseng (here)." With his gestures I get what his trying to say about bringing my ship here, with a nod of agreement I watch as he gives shrilling whistle and with a screech a large dragon-like creature lands next to (Na'vi name).

"(ikran name)" he coos at the creature while sliding a hand across it's head that has a beautiful pattern and color, it purrs in return before (Na'vi name) attach his braid to one of the long tubs that run along the creatures head and hop onto it's back, with another screech it launch into the air. With their figures disappearing in the distance I turn back to the compound and try my best to get things running again.

🌌🪐🌕🌍💫

I hop off my ikran (mountain banshee) and detached my braid from them, with careful soft steps I make my way to Vitraya Ramunong (Tree of Souls) leaving glowing footprints in my wake and removing the Olo'eyktan (clan leader) tako (bow) from my back before kneeling before the ancient glowing utral (tree).

"Eywa, what should I do about the Tawtute (sky person)? Why did you stop me earlier? What is your plan?" I whispered to a telem (cord) I had gently taken into my hand before connecting my queue to it with a deep breath causing my vision to turn white.

"Oel ngati kameie (I see you), 'itan (son)." She whispered into my mikyun (ear) as warmth speaks through my tokx (body) like she's hugging me.

"Oel ngati kameie (I see you), Sa'nok (mother)." I whispered back to her with a irrtok (smile) which I can feel she returns.

"Srung him for that poan is my stxeil to nga, my 'itan. Nga have heyn mì loneliness alìm nìhawug nì'i'a 'eveng, tsunslu poan slu a tsmukan fu muntxa si it's your txe'lan tìftxey." I can feel her lips as she places a kiss on my forehead and fade away as my vision returns to my once again. With a sigh I pick up my tako (bow) and walk back to my ikran (mountain banshee) to fly where Valerian's metal thing still sits.

(Translation: Help him for that he is my gift to you, my son. You have sit in loneliness far too long child, may he became a brother or mate it's your hearts choice.)

_______________________________________________

Please tell me the right translation if I got anything wrong.

[ms-rampage]

Nice to Meet You

Charles Smith x [OC] Kate Winchester (or female reader)

This is my first RDR2 writing. I've had this swimming around in my head for awhile now, and this is one my favorite ships 😁😁💕💕. This is pretty much one of the ways I would have Kate and Charles meet. My writing requests are closed for now, but I'll save your request in my queue.

Warnings: None, maybe some slight language but thats normal for my writings. Awkward Kate/Y/n? 😅😂

A/N: Feel free to insert yourself as my OC as you read on. 😁😊

Photo of Charles isn't mine

Camping out near the Hanging Dog Ranch in Big Valley, West Elizabeth. The lavender field is such a beautiful place to set up camp, its even more beautiful with the snowy mountains from the West Grizzlies of Ambarino.

Kate always had this connection with nature. This spot is great for star gazing, and sometimes hunting. She normally didn't like hunting unless it was really necessary, such as for food, or to make a few dollars to sell some pelts for food. Being a naturalist can be difficult sometimes. You study animals, but sometimes cravings kick in, and you sometimes gotta hunt animals for food. Saloon food doesn't do it sometimes, so you gotta cook your own food.

Camping can be dangerous, even by yourself and especially if you're a woman, but for Kate she's a natural and somewhat of a veteran at camping alone, especially for her size. Being 5'4 and very easy to miss, especially when sitting or laying down, but that's why she has her guard dog Haley watching over the campsite while she's away. She's a good dog, German Shepard.

She's just relaxing, drinking some coffee as the cold West Elizabeth breeze blows past her, and that's when something startles her Missouri Fox Trotter, Lily. She somehow manages to unhitch herself, and takes off running into the wooded area nearby.

"Lily!" she exclaims dropping her cup of hot coffee to chase her horse. "Lily come back!". She sprints after her.

[Charles POV]. Normally he doesn't go this far from the gangs camp, but sometimes a good ride is good to clear your head. The areas around Strawberry is good for hunting. Getting away from the gang even for couple hours or a couple days can be a good thing.

Charles sets up his camp near the Black Bone Forest, not far from where Kate is set up, but of course he doesn't know this. Fixing up the fire as the evening sun is less than an hour away from setting. Warming up his hands as the cold weather starts to pick up, and night time will be arriving soon.

As he warms up his hands, he hears the voice of a woman calling out for someone, sounding distant but very close. He continues to warm up by the fire then a black, white tovero horse with saddle, and everything on, trots by looking a bit agitated. Putting two and two together, he figures it belongs to the woman calling out for it.

He gets up from his spot near the fire, and slowly approaches it, not wanting to startle or scare it away.

[Kate's POV]. "Lily!" she shouts, the tracks her horse had left now fading. Feeling like hours since she's been tracking her down. Normally she's really good at tracking animals, but it's close to night time and she left her lantern at her campsite. As well as her dog, hoping she doesn't get attacked by wolves, bears or cougars.

"Fuck" she sighs, "Lily!". She whistles for her, waiting for the whinny and heavy hooves of her horse, but to no avail. No sign of her. Not realizing she had chased her down a little too far. Kate is now nowhere near her campsite and is now in an area where there are dangerous predators lurking in the dark somewhat terrifying forests.

[Charles POV].

"Hey there girl" he says softly to the horse. She whinnys softly at him, digging her hoove into the dirty, not sure who he is. He continues to slowly approach her, when he gets to arms reach of her, he calms her down. "You're okay girl".

[No POV]. Patting her, Lily then calms down. He guides her towards his campsite, hitching her near Taima. 10 minutes had passed, "Lily!" the voice of the horse's owner echoes through the trees, followed by footsteps not far from Charles campsite. After another few minutes, a woman comes into view.

Charles sees her walk into view of his camp, "Ma'am is this your horse?" he asks. Relieved to see her horse is alive and well. Kate lets out a sigh of relief, "Oh fuck. Oh my God. Yes, thank you so much sir. I don't know what she saw, she just took off from her hitching spot". She unhitches her horse from the spot.

"I can escort you back to your camp" he tells her, knowing that this is O'Driscolls and Skinner brothers country. "Oh no its fine but thank you for the offer. I don't want to be a burden" she tells him.

"I insist" he tells her, "Its dark, and I don't want you to get attacked. This is a O'Driscolls and Skinner brothers area".

"Are you sure? My campsite isn't set up far" she asks, "I hope it isn't trouble?". This little lady can easily get attacked by any bandits and robbers. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't escort her, and made sure she was safe.

"I'm sure. I don't want you to get hurt" he tells her.

"Well if you insist then thank you sir". she tells him. She mounts Lily, and Charles mounts Taima. "I'm set up at the lavender field. Near the Hanging Dog Ranch" she informs him.

"Near the O'Driscolls hideout?" he asks, looking at her with a look of concern.

"There's no one at the hideout. I checked it out earlier, its empty". she replies. He escorts her to her campsite which is less than a 10 minute ride.

As they're riding, Charles gets a better glimpse at Kate's face. He knows he's seen her before but he's not sure when and where though, she's very beautiful, and also very small, short but height and size isn't really important to him. He knows she can probably hold herself in fight, but he wants to be a gentleman, and guide her to her camp.

When they reach her campsite, her dog greets with a bark of excitement and tail wagging. Kate hitches Lily. Charles gets off his horse. "Have I seen you before?" he asks her, "I feel like I've seen you before".

Kate did recognize him, but like him, she wasn't 100% sure. Getting a better look at his face and other features from the fire and a bit of light from the moonlight. He's most likely half African American and Native, he's also very handsome. "Outside the Smithfield Saloon in Valentine" she tells him, "I believe one of your friends got into a fight with Big Tommy".

He lets out a soft chuckle, and a slight smirk "I thought so. That was Arthur".

"And also in the Heartlands" she tells him, "Well you didn't see me, but I saw you with that same man... Arthur, who fought Tommy. I was studying bison, and you two were riding by. I recognized you".

"Studying bison?" he asks, intrigued by her response.

"I'm a naturalist. I study animals, and wildlife. I'm also a herbalist". she tells him, "I usual camp by myself to clear my head... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name".

"I'm Charles" he introduces himself.

"I'm Kate. It's finally nice to meet you" she was always terrible at introducing herself because she's very awkward, "But yeah, I study animals. Bison, Buffalo, cattle in general, I find very interesting... Sorry I'm just rambling on about my interests". She chuckles nervously.

"No worries. It's fine" he tells her, giving her a soft smile. Finding this woman very interesting and very attractive, also getting this strange feeling in his stomach that he has never ever gotten before, "I should be getting back to my camp now. Have I nice night, Kate".

"You too Charles, and thank you for the escort" thanking him with a smile. He hitches his horse and rides back to his camp. The whole time Kate was on his mind, even when he would try to sleep. Just something about her, her interests, and her demeanor. How sweet and down to Earth she is.

[maychild]

dear doctor ep 10

ahh, our dear angst muffin just keeps running away. and i get it. i mean, i don't really because i've, thankfully, never been in his situation but. he keeps hurting my baby.

i'm just living for all these jealous moments with metha and nuch, honestly. the moment he told her he didn't want to be her friend?? i was screaming, "just tell her u wanna be her lover-boy."

ughhh he was cute, but crypto?? really?? ewww no thanks.

nathee gets stinking drunk when he thinks keeta is quitting?? yeah, tell me how much you don't like keeta, you liar.

I WAS SO EXCITED FOR THIS I SCREAMED:

AND THEN IT FADED TO BLACK???? WHAAAAA THEY HAD SEX????????!!! i mean, i'm totally onboard this ship now. it's not that the first kiss wasn't awkward and it's not that nathee isn't stinking drunk, but...nathee/keeta are kinda hot together???

AND THEN I SCREAMED SOME MORE:

i'm just so glad we all now know--prakan included--the story behind how prakan got sanya's heart and that's why prakan can see tua/sanya. (it really was fate that brought them together, i mean the amount of things that had to go right--or wrong?? depending on how u look at it, i guess?--for prakan to receive tua's heart instead of other people ahead of him in the queue, the fact that prakan's young body didn't reject tua's heart, the amount of good luck and fortune that prakan didn't die *before* tua did, i mean *hands* i know it's not out right said but until canon disproves me, i'm totally calling this love story a red thread of fate, which is why it'd be so incredibly cruel to end this story in a heartbreaking way, universe.)

and i'm so glad we got so many good kisses between prakan/tua and a fade-to-black sex scene. and this hopefully means prakan will stop running away from sanya and pushing him away. tho i am very nervous about what that red card means for sanya. are the consequences of his actions rearing their head??? and am very nervous that this means now sanya will be the one running away from prakan. guhhh the dreaded ep 11 and its curse...

[blixeon]

Ghost Hunting Headcanons/Phasmophobia AU with Douxie and fem!Reader

- A/N: I'm gonna be honest, I don't know anything about this kind of stuff and I'm writing based off of the sheer willpower of memes, what I've learned from playing Phasmophobia for a month and the power of inspiration to write odd hcs (and AUs apparently) at 1:30 am

Warnings: ghosties

You're both balls-y as hell and like to out dare and out do the other

"I'll give you free hot beverages from the café for a week if you stand in the basement alone, in complete darkness for 10 minutes"

"Don't tempt me Hisirdoux-"

You smirked before adding, "You know I'd do it anyways without the bribe~"

Douxie would raise an eyebrow at you in amusement, letting out a chuckle

You took up his offer and make your way to the basement

Low-key got bored and nodded off for a bit, lasting well over your 10 minutes of agreed upon time

Douxie starts getting worried when you don't come back up and makes his way down to look for you

"Y/N? Where'd you go, love?"

Since you'd only been nodding off and weren't completely out, you hear his voice and footsteps making his way down the stairs towards you and decide to take it upon yourself to give him a little spook

He lets out an alarmed yelp as you jump at him from the shadows

"Bleeding balroths! Y/n, don't do that to me-! I thought something happened to you.."

You let out a light chuckle but apologize for making him worry

It's dark in the abandoned house you're ghost hunting at, and you've got nothing but your flashlights to guide you along in your nightly quest (you'd both agreed it be more fun if magic was off limits)

You liked to hold onto Douxie's sleeve while exploring, not out of fear but just because it was nice knowing he was there

Douxie prefers that you hold onto his sleeve anyways, he'd much rather be prepared to break your no magic rule to protect you on the off chance that whatever you're out looking for wants to cause harm

Plus, it's comforting to him to know that you're close by and that he doesn't need to keep checking that you're still there since he can feel you tugging at his sleeve

He checks anyways

"I bet you won't take home that string doll we saw hanging from the doorway on the way in"

"Oh, do you now?"

Despite not being able to see eachother's facial expressions in the dark, you can both feel the grin radiating off the other's face

"Arch might make me burn it if I do"

"Everyone knows you can't burn haunted things and be rid of its evil"

"Fair enough. You'll have to remind me to pick it up on our way out then"

You and Douxie ended up going for impromptu ghost hunts so frequently it became sort of a nightly tradition

Douxie enjoys it more than he cares to admit, but it's mostly because he enjoys spending time with you on these not so traditional dates

You can tell he enjoys it and decide to put some money into a few pieces of proper equipment, even if it's just for fun

Most nights, the two of you never actually find anything, it's just fun to be out together past midnight, looking for ghosts in abandoned places

When you do see something, it's usually just goblins or shadow mephits

However, sometimes you get lucky and something supernatural sets off your gear

"Took the spirits bloody long enough!"

Heavy footsteps echo from the floor above, followed by some low but faint off-tune humming

Queue creepy whispering and heavy breathing down your neck that is most definitely not Douxie

"Please don't eat my ass demons"

Douxie's flashlight starts flickering, so does yours, signalling that the spirit is hunting

"Oh.... fuzz buckets-"

He quickly guides you to one of the rooms you passed earlier, one that still had a door attached to its hinges

You close the door behind the two of you and wait out the hunt in silence

You wait for what feels like forever before you confirm that you're in the clear

Douxie moves to open the door and peers out into the hall with his dim flashlight, pulling you along with him once he deems it safe

You guys are surprisingly deep into the house at this point and decide to head back for safe measures

The front door of the run down house is in sight at the end of the seemingly endless hallway, it looks impossibly far away. Maybe it's the light?

As you head towards the door, the floorboards creak just ahead of you and Douxie

A slim dark figure flashes in and out of view, making its way towards you two, long slender arms outstretched towards you

Douxie moves to put a protective arm around you and you can faintly see the tattoos on his arms light up under his hoodie

"Shall we make a break for it, darling?"

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as the two of you dash for the exit

On your way out you remember to grab the string doll hanging in the doorway, as a trophy of sorts for surviving the night

The two of you keep moving until you're a safe distance from the house before you stop

As your pace slows, you notice the faint glow of Douxie's tattoos fade away

"Now THAT is how you spend a Tuesday night"

He laughs at your enthusiasm, finding it rather charming how you react in the face of possible danger

Now out of the darkness of the house and outside in the light of the moon, it's much easier to make out the expressions on his face

Douxie stares back at you with adoration in his eyes as you do a twirl in the cool night air, your laughter forming a small cloud as it echos into the night

He makes his way over to you as you slow from your spinning, wobbling a little as dizziness clouds your head

"Whoa there, take it easy. Just because we escaped a possibly blood hungry demon does not mean that you're invincible" he says, steadying you on your feet

You let out a chuckle, "I suppose not"

Your spinning had lead you to the dead center of a moonlit clearing

Douxie pulls you in for a kiss, sealing the end of your ghost hunting adventures

For now that is.

Who knows what tomorrow night will bring~?

A/N: Sorry that turned into a half assed one shot lmao, it's a lot longer than I intended it to be too ^^; I hope it's alright though! I haven't written anything in ages, let alone an x reader lol

New weird headcanon that came completely out of pocket while writing this is that Douxie's tattoos light up when he's preforming certain spells O-O

[mangled-dreams]

Hello! i'm new to your blog, but I've stumbled across your Sins of the mother series, and I am in LOVE with the way you write Darkiplier! And so, if I may request a story of my own? A Darkiplier x reader where the reader is going to be moving from home soon and she hasn't told anyone. She's nervous abut how Dark will take it but tells him once she gathers the courage.

I don’t know when this request was placed, mainly because I feel off the map hard and can’t remember where I was, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it despite how long this request has been in my queue.

OVER THINKING

“So, when is the date?” You mother asks jokingly as you look at your calendar. Panicked you nearly rip your calendar off your wall. “Oh! Honey, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She chuckles walking forward to soothingly run her hand over your back.

Sighing you bring your heart rate down before addressing your mother. “It’s okay, I should have been paying more attention around me.” 

Looking at your calendar your mother suspects something different is going on. “Is everything okay? You’re not...” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You’re not pregnant are you?”

Immediately you begin laughing at the question. “No! Of course not, Mom! I’m so not ready to have that kind of responsibility.” It’s humorous really. While you do enjoy the company of your nieces and nephews, both blood related and not, you are not jumping at the chance to join the ranks of their parents. Not to mention your boyfriend doesn’t really want children of his own either. It’s a perfect match for you. 

“You don’t have to laugh that hard, Y/n!” Your mother grouses lightly smacking her hand against your shoulder. It sobers you up, but still you find her concern hilarious.

Sighing contently you explain that in no way are you pregnant, opting to give her a more plausible excuse. “I’m trying to plan a vacation to San Diego. It’s hard to find the right time for vacations and if I don’t plan far enough I won’t get the time off.” After a few more words with your mother about the best time to go to the sunny city she leaves you to your planning. Seeing her out the door you close and lock it for good measure. 

In truth you didn’t completely lie to your mother. You are planning a trip to San Diego, just not for vacation. You have a job interview with a communications company that will pay for your schooling while employed. You haven’t informed anyone in your family of your plans, let alone Dark. 

You met your boyfriend not long ago in a dark alley of all places. You’d gotten lost on your way to a bar to meet some friends in an unfamiliar city only to walk down the wrong alley. Dark never explained what he was doing exactly, just that he was tracking down a fugitive. 

You gathered he was a bounty hunter of some kind, but he never dressed like one, Sometimes he’d show up outta the blue at your doorstep exhausted and in need of some peace and quiet; to which you offer in abundance. 

Your stomach rolls at the thought of having to tell Dark you’re moving, but, you remind yourself, that is if you get the job offer. Looking through your calendar once again you log on to your computer and begin making your plans to visit San Diego.

“Miss L/n, we’d like to inform you of our official offer of employment.”

You’d been dreading and anticipating this call for nearly a month. Relief sweeps through your whole body like a cold wave of water. Spending somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes going over the finer details. They’re going to give you an upfront bonus to move your things to San Diego and to find a place to live while acclimating to the new city. 

Shrieking happily you flop on you bed you kick your feet and clutch your phone to your chest. You already have a place in mind to live for a while at least. A few years back a close high school friend struck it rich with an invention of hers and owns a property fairly close to your new place of work. You don’t plan of buying a car but do plan to invest in a good bicycle for the time being. Your one trip to San Diego turned you off from having a car for quiet some time. 

“You look happy.” 

Jolting up you spy Dark standing in your doorway, lazily lounging against the frame. Smiling you jump off your bed, running right into his arms. “I got a job offer!” You tell him honestly. Dark knows you’ve been searching for a good paying job so you can move back out on your own. 

Dark smiles. His hand running gently atop your head. “I’m so happy for you. I hope it’s from one of your top choices.”

Nodding you push your face into his chest squeezing him tightly. He doesn’t press you for any more answers, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him about the distance the move will put between you. Not long after you tell him, Dark is gone after a bounty he’s been looking for.

Wishing him good luck and placing a kiss to his cheek you bid him a goodbye and watch him go. Sighing sadly you wrap your arms around your chest and hug yourself. You know the distance will hurt your family, you’ve always been really close to one another, but to put hundreds of miles between a fairly new relationship is basically asking for a break up.

Going back to your room you lay face up, staring at the ceiling you stared at since childhood, wondering just how you can tell Dark. You can’t ask him to wait for you to come back; but you don’t want to give him up. And yet, there is a third option but you can’t take him away from his work. 

Twiddling your thumbs you wait in alone in the now empty house. You parents had gone out to see a musical a town over and your younger brother is away for the weekend with his best friend leaving you alone, waiting for Dark. You’ve decided to finally tell Dark.

The days have ticked away and you’re nearly half way through your last month. Swallowing a large ball of saliva pooled in your mouth you hear a strong knock on the front door and hurry to answer it. Peeking out Dark stares back at you.

“Dark, welcome. Come in.” You greet happy and scared to see your lover. Unlike his usual artier of a tailored suite and dress shoes, he’s in casual clothing. Tailored faded blue jeans with a green button up and a black sports coat frame his figure, You do so love to see him all dressed up, but seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease makes your hormones go crazy. 

Pausing Dark can see the turmoil in your eyes. It’s been driving him crazy these past few weeks, ever since your job offer, that something bad happened. Most things he can forgive; but he despises being lied too. Pausing just inside the door Dark grips you by the shoulders, placing a soft kiss to your lips, and asks, “Is there something we need to discuss?”

Taking a shaky breath you nod, eyes cast down at the ground guiltily. “Please, come to the living room.” Shutting the door you lead Dark to the living room and sit down on the couch. Patting the cushion next to you he sits. 

“Y/n, you know I do not enjoy being made a fool of, what is happening?” He asks calmly. He won’t react unless he feels it necessary. 

Taking a deep breath you look up into his eyes. “I... It’s probably something you’ll find really stupid, but I’ve been agonizing over telling you about the job and where it’s located.” You start watching Dark closely. “I haven’t even told my parents or siblings yet because I wanted to let you know first.”

“Where is your job at?” Dark asks, relieved it’s simply a geographical issue, and not an issue of mistrust or deception. He can work with you simply moving again. Unlike you he is not bound to any one place.

“It’s in San Diego. The trip I went on last month was for an interview. They offered me a job and I accepted. They’re one of the only places that will employ me and send me to school.” You explain watching closely for hurt or anger. You see nothing.

“I see, well, that’s excellent. I know you’ve been wanting to move away for quite sometime and pursue a better education. Had you asked, i would have gladly funded any school you wished to enroll in, not to mention cover the cost of living in that city.” Dark says calmly, matter-of-factly. It’s a little off putting.

“You’re not mad?” You ask hesitant to even ask the question.

He shakes his head “Of course not; what would make you think I would be?”

For the first time since the fear rose in your chest you really give his question a good long once over. Everything you’ve ever discussed with Dark, he’s been nothing but supportive and accommodating.  He never told you not to apply to jobs far away, and never made any indication he’d be upset if you had to move away, nor that your relationship would end if you did move away. 

“I just assumed...” looking at your hands you really have no reply. “I guess I assumed our relationship would suffer because of some of my friends. They moved away  for school and relationships I looked up to broke apart within a few months.” You respond looking over at Dark.

He chuckles, amused by your words. “I mean no insult by my laughter, however they are not us. I am not bound to his place like you are. I can come and go as I please. Wherever you are I can be as well. I thought I explained that before?”

Blushing you look away. “I, uh, I completely forgot until now.” Looking back to Dark you smile shyly. “You don’t think I’m a worry wart now, do you?”

Chuckling again Dark cups your cheek with his hand. “Of course not. Just, next time, talk to be first before worrying yourself to death. There is very little we cannot simply talk through.” In his own way he’s teasing you, easing the pain in your heart to a dull throb of embarrassment.

Laughing you agree with him accepting his kiss. Pulling away you rest your forehead against his, eyes locked, and ask, “So, you wanna help me tell lmy parents?”

Immediately he shakes his head. “That’s one show I do not want a ticket for.” You both laugh, but there is a sense of comfort and peace in you.

“I can respect that.”