#☼ tell me who's watching ? ﹙ open. ﹚

[serialreporter]

Blows you a kiss.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

~~

Azriel walked you to your room. 

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room. 

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles. 

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…” 

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense. 

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything. 

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.” 

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words. 

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space. 

Something finally felt right. 

Nothing felt right… but this did. 

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark. 

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face. 

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room. 

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.” 

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible. 

You just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.” 

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed. 

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.” 

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright. 

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this. 

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features. 

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.” 

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.” 

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.” 

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.” 

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face. 

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal. 

And maybe it was. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.” 

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments. 

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids. 

“Of course I’ll help you.” 

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation. 

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm. 

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.” 

You were very close friends, then. 

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day. 

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons. 

Or maybe something was missing. 

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him. 

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?” 

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?” 

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease. 

Had you done something wrong? 

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you. 

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection. 

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in. 

“Azriel, I—” 

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation. 

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion. 

“I am terrified, y/n.” 

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze. 

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.” 

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“ 

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.” 

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue. 

He watched you as you moved. 

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?” 

You shook your head. 

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.” 

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.” 

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.” 

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration. 

You used to know everything. 

And now you knew nothing. 

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?” 

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.” 

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off. 

This was too much. 

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view. 

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.” 

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.” 

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it. 

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…” 

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.” 

“Y/n—” 

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.” 

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him. 

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath. 

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—” 

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.” 

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.” 

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.” 

Part 6 ♡

[gigi-loveless]

could you maybe write something about abby comforting reader because she has past trauma from being in a toxic relationship?

kind of like reader does something wrong and freaks out but abby like helps her?

of course baby! hope you enjoy ‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

warnings - talks of past toxic relationship, dark inner thoughts

authors note - my messages are always open for all of you, no matter what.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

the rejuvenating breeze whisks through the french doors that enter out to abby’s backyard. it’s been a quiet day, abby needing to go to a work meeting early in the morning, so you decided to help out and do some chores to surprise her when she arrived back home.

humming along to the taylor swift song soaring over the radio, you pluck out the sheets you just washed, going to throw them straight into the dryer before noticing the pinkish hue plaguing the typically bright white fabric.

darkness washes over your once bright demeanor, knowing that abby spent a good amount of money on those nice sheets with the high thread count. you rummage through the washer, fishing out your bright pink shorts you thought you threw in with the last load.

stupid bitch. this is all your fault. you deserve this.

the sound of the garage door opening, and abby’s keys jingling in the door makes your stomach turn.

“hey babe, brought you a coffee!” abby hums, turning the corner into the laundry room where you’re hyperventilating over the open washer. the dizzying weight of what you just inflicted crushing you.

“hey hey hey,” she coos, setting your coffee down on the ironing board, engulfing you in her endlessly broad arms. “tell me what happened.” the blonde girl insists, wiping a stray tear from your eye.

“n-no…no!.” you sob, mascara stained tears dripping onto abby’s luckily dark button up.

“okay, okay….” she replies, smoothing down your hair and lifting you up to sit on the washer. “can you breathe with me? that’s it, good job.”

abby knew about your last relationship well. she figured it out pretty quickly after you cried the whole night over dropping a glass one of the first times you slept over. but abby’s abby, and she would go to the ends of the earth for you. so that next morning she spent on youtube watching other women who recovered from toxic relationships, trying her best to understand where your nightmarish thoughts come from, and how she can assist in handling them. she knows the ins and outs, and always insists on doting over you, even when you express that you feel like a burden.

“deep breath in for four…i know, hold it for four…out for four…hold it for four. can we repeat that?”

you nod, pressing your forehead to abby’s, connecting your breath.

“m-m’ sorry abby…..i-i just wanted to help,” you pant out, “and wash your sheets but i’m stupid and- and i stained them pink.”

you wince, preparing for the worst reaction possible.

but it’s abby.

running a calloused hand over the stained sheets, she starts giggling.

“well, pink is your favorite color isn’t it love? now i’ve got a piece of you in my room.” she affirms, swiping a stray tear from your eye. “and you’re not stupid at all. it was an honest mistake baby and besides, they’re just sheets.”

“y-you’re not mad?”

“wouldn’t dare to think it.” abby reassures.

all that tortured your spirit mere moments ago immediately melted away into abby’s honey sweet manner. “c’mon, i brought you some coffee from that new place that opened down the road, you wanna try it?” you nod, as abby helps you down, pulling you into her pine scented chest and pressing her lips tenderly to your hairline.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

join my taglist!

@abigails-gf @ellies2missingfingers @ellieslob @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrr @cowboylikeabi @pretty-forest-nymph @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @luvhyekook @peachesnbows @drunkonnatasha @seraphicsentences @elliewilliamsmaingirl @asmrgirll

[sunsetsimon]

a couple of dad!simon headcanons ♡

- hello! i'm sun, and this is my new writing account! i haven't written properly in years, so please go easy on me!

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☼ simon never imagined having a family of his own. even after the first few years of being together, the thought never crossed his mind. until your best friend had a baby...

your best friend was visiting with her newborn and seeing you holding the baby flipped a switch in his head. you smiled and cooed at him, causing the baby to flash a toothless smile. there was a twinkle in your eye that he hadn’t noticed before and he pictured you glowing so beautifully as you held your own daughter, a mini version of you and him all in one. he didn’t bring it up for weeks as he thought it through himself. was having a family even possible for him? was he just being selfish?

☼ it comes up one day after you notice he’d been unusually quiet while spending time together. he wasn’t the most talkative, but he enjoyed conversations with you, even joking here and there.

“is everything okay, si? you’ve been extra quiet today.”

“hmm, yeah. just been zoning off.” he shrugs, unsure how to approach the subject. he knows you would listen but he doesn’t know how he’d react if your answer was no.

deciding rejection is better than never knowing, he sharply inhales, “have you ever thought about having children?”

the question throws you off, certainly random for a guy who doesn’t speak much of the future. you sit for a second debating your answer, and simon’s chest clenches in anxious anticipation.

“i have a few times, nothing too serious though. it never seems like there’s a good time for us.”

he nods in agreement, “been thinking about it these days. maybe it’s something we can consider.”

☼ needless to say, you both decide after many conversations and more time, that expanding your family is something you’re open to. you stop your contraception soon after and begin trying. he becomes even more attentive, constantly checking in with you and doing plenty of research on how to make your pregnancy easy. he gets you anything you want - whenever you want. and back and foot massages become part of your everyday routine.

☼ recognizes that he won't always be around because of his extremely demanding work. he checks in whenever he can, even writing letters if he has to. it breaks his heart having to miss doctor appointments and weekly milestones with you, but you always know he tries his absolute best for you two.

☼ simon loves skin to skin contact for the first few months. he loves to lay with her against his chest and drift off to the tv while you take a quick shower. he finds himself just watching her a lot, trying to memorize every movement her tiny body makes.

☼ soooo protective. no kisses, no pets, no sick people, doesn’t allow anything that could be of risk near her. he always has the two of you in his sight, preferring to push the stroller as you walk on the side of him.

☼ he's not one to care for style, so you do the main planning for the nursery. he builds all of the furniture for you while you watch. he looks so hot in his grey sweats and a black t-shirt that you can't help but distract him a few times.

☼ it's a hard adjustment for him having to return for a mission after she's born. he spends his entire last day holding and watching her, a sad slouch in his shoulders.

"gonna miss you so much, darlin. i'll be back as soon as i can," he whispers, gently kissing her forehead before handing her back to you. simon's hands grip your waist, pulling you in close to kiss you deeply before resting his forehead against yours. "i need my girls to stay safe. ill update you when i can, dove."

whenever he can, he scrolls though his videos on his phone just to see her face. her eyes twinkle brighter than any star to him and a slight smile creeps under his mask.

☼ relieves you from baby care when he can tell you’re exhausted. sighing and pulling yourself out of bed when crying erupts through the baby monitor. he doesn’t get up at first, but when the crying continues for a minute, he comes to check on you. he pushes the door cracked door open, revealing you desperately hushing and bouncing her in your arms. your eyes are tired and heavy, wishing for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“i got ‘er. go back to bed love,” simon says, taking his baby girl into his arms.

you give him a weak smile and a thankful squeeze at his arm, walking straight to bed without another peep. he holds her close to his chest as he sits down in the chair, propping her neck up as he stares down at her. her eye color matches his, but she resembles you more and more everyday. he’s enamored by her, his beautiful little girl that he created with the love of his life.

she quiets down shortly, falling back asleep in his arms as he rocks her slowly. his own eyes grow heavy, and he sets her down in her crib before returning back to bed. he climbs in behind you, pulling your back to his chest and planting a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“if she wakes up again i’ll take care of it. you just sleep darling,” simon whispers, receiving a hum in response from you as you snuggle into him.

he takes care of his girls so well.

[nervoussagittarius]

DATING MATT STURNIOLO HEADCANNONS

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: none just extreme fluff

☼ matt is quite literally your biggest fan. who cares if he’s the one with millions of followers. he’s supporting in everything you do

☼ matt’s love language is quality time. he loves spending time with people that he’s close with and you best bet that he will give you his full attention no matter what

☼ matt makes you passenger princess no matter what. forget chris. if you’re in the car that is your seat.

☼ matt’s not very big on pda he likes holding hands and short kisses but he loves when you wrap your hand around the inside of his arm and hold his bicep when you’re next to him

☼ matt’s the type of guy to ask you questions 24/7 so he can always be on top of his game. he know exactly how you like your coffee or how much ice you put in your drinks. he knows how much shampoo and conditioner you use so he can wash your hair for you

☼ matt won’t let you open doors for yourself. even if you tell him it’s fine. he’s running to beat you to any and every door you come across

☼ matt’s doing everything for you so you can be as relaxed as possible

☼ matt will never take his bad mood or attitude out on you. you’re his solitude so even if he’s having the worst day you being there makes him 10x happier

☼ matt loves sitting in comfortable silence with you and just holding you. it’s a time where the rest of the world melts away and it’s just you two

☼ matt has so many nicknames and pet names for you that it’s hard to keep up. often his brothers have to look at him and ask who he’s talking to or about

☼ matt makes you bouquets of flowers and always keeps one so he knows when they need replaced

☼ matt’s big on hand writing you letters or sticky notes. he could be going to the store for 5 minutes but he’ll always leave a little sticky note next to you so you don’t wonder where he is when you wake up

☼ matt will see something that reminds him of you and will send you a picture or a text letting you know. this happens usually multiple times a day

☼ matt’s a sleepy guy and his sleep schedule is all over the place so he makes sure to let you know anytime he’s about to fall asleep or when he wakes up so you know he’s okay

☼ matt loves late night drives with you. he’ll take you anywhere as long as you’re comfortable and happy. he doesn’t mind if you fall asleep either he just wants to be near you

☼ matt was never a “tough guy” around you. you saw through that act real fast, but tough guy matt is really attractive

☼ matt pretends to fight you on what to watch but he really doesn’t care what you put on. he’ll watch the stupidest romcom or show with you if that’s what you want

chats from lucy: i hope you liked this! if you want me to write something or have any suggestions or feedback please let me know :))

[rainyorca]

Promise I'll be here 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content Warnings: Blood, open wounds, fluff, no use of gendered pronouns for reader, based off that one scene in TASM, established relationship, kissing.

Word Count: 1,701

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

It’s late at night when a Kaiju rampages through Tokyo, luckily for you it’s nowhere near your place. So you sit safely at your desk, watching the news from your laptop and viewing the creature from afar.

“Ultraman continues to battle Irugo. However, it appears the KDF have intercepted the fight.” The news reporter follows every move, his voice echoes through your room. “Ultraman seems to be taking some hard hits, but it looks like he’s successfully defeating Irugo.” 

You watch intently, watching your beloved in his hero form push the giant reptile back into the sea. His color timer hasn’t gone off this whole fight, but you can tell he looks exhausted, physically. After practicing all morning, attending a few fan events, and now this, it's almost guaranteed he's ready to drop.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips like you’ve been holding your breath this whole time. You shut your laptop gently, sitting back in your chair and staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. 

Just as you're about to reach your phone and text him, there’s a soft knock at your window, making you jump slightly in surprise. You spin around in your chair, getting up and walking over to the window beside your bed. 

You smile when you see him, messy hair and all. You open the window, letting your exhausted boyfriend in. He crawls onto your bed with a soft groan, his hair dripping wet. 

“What a battle.” You say with enthusiasm. “Watched the whole thing on the news.” You leave his side to go turn your lamp on. 

“I thought the KDF was gonna ruin it again like always but-“ you pause when you see him, struggling to hold himself up on your bed. His white shirt is soaked with dark, crimson blood staining the soft fabric. “Oh my god.” You breathe, crawling into bed with him. His hair sticks to his forehead, wet with rain and sweat. There’s a few scratches on his face, nevertheless small and harmless. His beautiful eyes, lidded from exhaustion and pain, stare at you. The soft glow from your lamp casts beautiful shadows over his face, defining his sculpted features. 

You lift his shirt, looking at the large lacerations over his torso. They weren’t super deep but they would leave a pretty gnarly scar. The sight makes you a bit queasy but you swallow it down, keeping your composure for him. “Kenji,” you say, his name as soft as a feather on your tongue, “I thought your Ultraman form was supposed to protect you from things like this, you know keep you from bleeding and stuff.” Your messy haired boyfriend manages a tired, endearing smile. “It doesn’t always protect everything,” he winces when you pull his shirt over his head, the fabric scrapes over his exposed flesh. You get up, walking to your bathroom and grabbing some cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide.  

You sit back down on the bed, letting the things fall out of your hands and onto the soft cushion of your bed. “Sit up Ken,” you say, guiding him to rest his back against the wall. The coolness of your wall makes him flinch, his body reacting to the surface.

“Maybe we should get you in the shower first,” you make a sour face at the wounds, putting some alcohol on a cotton swab and patting one of the wounds gently. “It’s fine,” he sighs, “this will do.” 

You're silent for a moment, deep in thought while you carefully clean his wounds. He stares at your concerned face, a small smile forms on his lips but it’s barely noticeable. He brings a hand up to cup your face.

“I worry about you, all the time.” You speak softly, keeping your eyes on his wounds. “Really sometimes I wish you never told me you were Ultraman.” 

He chuckles softly. “Then who’s supposed to help me in situations like these?” 

“Mina’s helped you before,” you smile sweetly, giving him a quick glance before returning your eyes to his chest. “I just want you to be safe,” you continue, “and I want you to go to the hospital or something and get checked out because there’s not much I can do here.” 

“I can ask Mina to scan me tomorrow,” he hums, sounding more relaxed. It’s silent for a few moments, the only audible sound was his soft heartbeat combined with your quickend one. He gently moves your head so you could look at him. His eyes are intense but so full of love, drowning you in a pool of gray. 

“What?” You question, staring at him for a moment before turning your attention back to his wounds. He smiles sleepily, dropping his hand but leaning in. He tilts his head to try and catch your lips but you flinch back slightly. His breath is hot against your lips and every muscle of your body holds still, not wanting to move away from him.

His lips brush over yours but he never connects them. You part your lips slightly, still desperately trying to focus on fixing him up but your eyes are lost on his face. “Kenji,” you breathe, his lips grazing over yours again. “What?” He asks, sounding sickeningly innocent. You can’t help but smile a bit, your hand pausing from cleaning his injuries. 

He chuckles, that same breathy, sultry chuckle that made you fall in love with him. You still try to avoid his kiss but eventually you give in, letting your body relax and leave you vulnerable to him.

Your eyes close softly, your heart rate spikes as he reaches up. He rests his large hand on your neck, thumb on your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are soft, petal-like, gently pressing into yours. Your free hand is on his forearm, digging your nails into the soft, muscled flesh as he deepens the kiss.

“Kenji,” you gasp softly once he pulls away, trailing his lips down your jaw and to the junction of where your neck and jaw meets. “No,” you whisper, sounding rather weak to his attacks. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him a little more, “not right now, you know better.” He smiles, slutty and drowsy. “Yeah,” he breathes lazily, “Do I?” He adjusts himself so he's got more leverage, sneakily using his other arm to pull you into his lap. “Kenji, no,” you warn again, trying to sound more firm but failing miserably. You're sitting on his lap sideways, not straddling him, legs only on one side. 

He wraps his lips around a section of skin on your neck, sucking softly, teeth grazing ever so slightly over your skin. The feeling makes your body bloom with warmth, a sensual sigh sliding off your tongue. “Yes,” he whispers, releasing your skin to look at the reddish-hickey he just left on your skin. He stares at it like a piece of art because in his mind it was and you were his canvas. His beautiful, soft canvas. He grazes his lips over yours again, trying to connect the distance. “Ken,” you smile, his name coming out more as a giggle. You press your hand onto his chest, mistakingly onto his fresh wound. He pulls back with a sharp wince, sucking air through his teeth in pain. His head hits the wall with a quiet bang.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you rush out, pulling your hand off immediately. “It’s okay,” he says softly, cupping your face again, “It's okay.” He leans forward, resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you.

You wrap your arms around him, rubbing your hands over his back to soothe him. He practically melts into your touch, tilting his head to the side so he could at least see a part of your side profile. He studies your face with tired eyes, his body relaxed rather than tense. 

You stare outside the window, watching the car lights reflect off the building across from you. A steady fall of rain has started, pattering against your windows softly. 

“Kenji,” you hum, “you know I wish I could be there with you.” He sits back slowly, a curious expression on his face, a raised brow and a white smile. “You wanna fight a Kaiju?” He asks, his tone dripping with curiosity and slight humor. 

“No one else is there to protect you,” you respond, drinking in the sight of his smile, “I mean your dad can barely fight these days. If he can't help you then who can?”

“I just don’t want you to get seriously hurt,” your voice is barely above a whisper, barely heard above the rain outside. He gives you that same, charming laugh, just a more tired version of it. 

“I won’t, okay?” He grabs your head with both hands now, keeping you still, “and besides, you're here to protect me from afar, that's what I need right now. I don't need you risking your life for me.”

“But if I was seriously hurt you’d still take care of me, right?” he adds teasingly. 

You punch his shoulder softly, earning a mixture between a pained groan and a laugh from him. “I’m serious,” you protest, “I don't want you risking your life for me either, or millions of people. That may be cruel of me to say but I’d rather it be someone else and not you.” 

He smiles at you like a lovesick puppy, pressing his lips into yours once again. It’s more passionate now and you can practically taste the love on his tongue. “And yes, I'd still take care of you,” you pull away just enough to speak, “what type of lover would I be if I didn't?”

He sighs happily, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you, beautiful,” he hums, “I don't know what I’d do without you.” 

“Well you wouldn't be able to do this,” you chuckle softly, pressing your fingers to his lips, hinting at the kiss. This time it's you who closes the space separating you two. He smiles against your mouth, rolling over and making you fall back onto the bed softly, his hand on your thigh.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[strwbrryeyes]

☼ intro (end of the world) ☼ (kageyama tobio x reader)

⟡ cw: she/her pronouns used but not much, lmk if i miss anything else

⟡ a/n: i have been wanting to write for this album since the day it came out so im gonna do little drabbles for the songs as a way to make up for my lack of writings/requests that i actually need to upload so i hope you all enjoy it :3

⟡ eternal sunshine masterlist

You had been dating Kageyama Tobio for a little over a year at this point. Everything was always moving so fast…for him. While Kageyama was constantly playing volleyball and traveling the country for official matches, you were in college working towards your dream career.

Although you and kageyama have made so many efforts to keep in contact regularly by video calling and texting constantly or even travelling to see each other when possible, it has been difficult to come to terms with the fact that you do not spend as much time as you want to with each other. It has gotten to the point where you don’t know if keeping this relationship going is even worth it anymore. Both you and Kageyama want to get through it, you have had countless talks about wanting it to work out and you both always come to the agreement that neither of you wouldn’t trade anything for the world.

You think you’re meant for each other but you keep thinking to yourself ‘why dont i know that he is the one for me? Why do I only think it?’ but of course, you shake it off and continue on with the relationship. Even with all of these thoughts of figuring out if you are supposed to be with him for life or not, there are moments where the tough times make the good times worth it…and that is what keeps the both of you going. One of those moments was on your birthday a few weeks ago when Kageyama decided to surprise you with a visit.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

After a long day of classes and your job at a doggy daycare, all you wanted to do was lay down in your bed with some comfy pajamas, eating chips without regard for the crumbs that would land on your bed sheets all while watching your favorite reality show. It was a pretty solid plan but it all went down the drain the minute you stepped foot into the hallway that had your apartment and saw that your door was opened. Your whole body filled with dread as you walked closer, worried that you had just been robbed but as you got closer you saw a small trail of silver confetti leading you through the doorway and as soon as you stepped foot infront of the entrance of your apartment, you stopped all of you belonging onto the ground and ran to the one thing that could be better than a lazy night. Your boyfriend.

“Tobio! What are you doing here?” you ask Kageyama as you jump into his arms while you become a giggling mess (who is also crying).

“I couldn’t have my angel be all alone on her birthday!” Kageyama chuckles as he embraces you in his arms but is quickly confused when you fall silent right after he finishes speaking. “[name]? You good there?” he questions you as he puts you down to be greeted with the blank expression on your face.

“My birthday..?” cocking your head to the side, you look behind Kageyama to see decorations all over your living area, eyes landing on the big ‘happy birthday’ sign. You had completely forgotten today was your birthday. 

“Babe, don’t tell me you forgot your birthday?” Kageyama laughs out before pulling you in for another hug “and you say i’m the dense one.” he flicks your forehead before kissing it and all you can do is laugh along with him.

The rest of the night was pure bliss as you layed in bed with your loved one, eating your favorite type of sweet from your favortie bakery down the stree, while watching your reality tv show.

☼ ⋆。𖦹˚⋆

Thinking about this small but memorable event, you can’t help but smile as it helps you become certain that you and Kageyama are meant to be. You now knew that Kageyama Tobio would be the first and last person you run to if the world were to ever end and honestly, as your pulled out of your thoughts by your ringing phone that is signaling you that your boyfriend is calling you, you wouldn’t have it any other day.

[reallchristine]

ENERGY ─ chapter three

pairing: logan howlett x !f!reader

Set during x-men (2000) and X2

warnings: angst, bad grammar?😭, basically the plot of the first movie!!!

previous chapter <- -> next chapter

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You tried staying calm at the thought of what Magneto was going to do with Rogue.

Your reflection showing in the mirror of Logan’s bathroom as you stood beside the professor. You don’t need to be psychic to know that Logan’s worried, his expression says it all.

You watch as he splashes his face with cold water and pats his skin dry afterwards, before tossing the towel onto the side aggressively.

You exchange a look with the man beside you before turning to speak to Logan.

“Logan-”

“You said he wanted me.” He said firmly.

There’s a pause before the professor speaks up.

“I made a terrible mistake. His helmet was somehow designed to block my telepathy.” Charle’s averts his eye’s away from Logan, “I couldn’t see what he was after till it was too late.”

Logan stands there for a moment before walking toward’s the door.

“Where are you going?” You question him, confused. “I’m going to find her.” He replies grabbing his leather jacket before heading out.

“How?” The professor ask’s.

“The traditional way: look.” Logan answers walking out of the room as you follow.

“You can’t just do this alone.” You say, trying to catch up with him. “Who’s gonna help me? You? So far, you’ve all done a bang-up job.” He replies with a scoff.

“Then help us. Fight with us.” You tell him, stopping as he turns to face you.

“Fight with you? Join the team? Be an X-man?” He say’s as he continues, “who the hell do you think you are? You’re a mutant. The whole world out there is full of people that hate and fear you and you’re wasting your time trying to protect them.”

You stare him for a moment, clenching your fist’s, before replying, “It’s not a waste of time.”

you take a breath before you continue, “Even though the world hates and fears us, there’s still some good amongst all of that, I know there is,” You look down at your feet as your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, before you look up at him again.

“Which is why they’re worth protecting.”

You take a step closer, trying to find some understanding in his eyes, “You don’t need to be a X-man to fight for something that’s right.”

He scoffs, looking away and shaking his head, “I got better things to do.”

He walks away towards the door of the mansion before turning to face you again, “you know Magneto’s right. There’s a war coming. Are you sure you’re on the right side?”

“At least I’ve chosen a side.” You reply.

Logan doesn’t retort back. Instead, he turns back around, opening the door, but before he could walk out, he’s met with Senator Kelly already at the door, who looks to be out of breath.

“I’m looking for doctor Jean Grey.” The senator say’s gasping for air, before collapsing into Logan’s arms.

──

You now stood in the professors office as an unsettling worried feeling grows in your stomach.

Logan paces the room, while Scott and Jean take a seat on the chair.

“The machine emits radiation that triggers mutation in ordinary human beings.” Charles states to all of you.

“But the mutation is unnatural. Kelly’s body is rejecting it” Jean discusses as she continues “-his cells began to break down immediately.”

“What effect does it have on mutants?” Scott asks, worriedly.

“There appears to be none. But I fear it will harm any normal person exposed to it.” The professor answers shifting his gaze.

Logan stops his pacing, his voice cutting through the room as he speaks, “so what does Magneto want with Rogue?”

“I don’t know.” The professor admits, shaking his head.

Logan only grows more frustrated as he continues to pace across the room again.

“Wait a second,” Scott say’s lifting his head to look at the professor. “You said this machine draws its powers from Magneto, and that it weakened him.”

“Yes,” Charles replies with a hint of realization in his voice. “In fact it nearly killed him.”

Logan’s steps stop, as it all clicks in his mind. “He’s going to transfer his powers to Rogue and use her to power the machine.”

The professors eyes widen, a sense of urgency filling his thoughts as he waste no time to speak.

“Cyclops, you and storm ready the Jet. Jean come with me, I’m going to find Rogue. And Y/n, get yourself and Logan a uniform.”

Usually you would speak up hearing those word’s but, you did promise Ororo you would come along for the next mission.

“Wait a minute,” Scott’s speaks, interfering with what the professor was saying, as well as your thoughts. “He’s not coming with us, is he?” The tone of his voice sounding more irritated than usual.

“Yes.” Charles quickly answers.

Scott turns his head in slight disbelief. “I’m sorry professor but he’ll endanger the mission and-”

“I’m not the one who gave the train station a new sunroof, pal.” Logan says, cutting Scott off.

Scott turns to face him, “No, you were the one who stabbed Rogue through the chest.”

“Scott,” you warn him, the tension in the room rising.

Logan steps closer, quickly shooting back. “Why don’t you take your little mission and stick it up your-”

Before he could finish, Ororo bursts into room. “Senator Kelly is dead,”

you quietly gasp, your hand flying to cover your mouth.

The room is silent.

“I’m going to find her.” The professor says turning his head to Scott, “Settle this.”

Scott nods as the professor leaves the room, Jean following behind him.

──

You rush to Cerebro along with Scott and Logan. The metal doors sliding open revealing Jean hunched over Charles on the floor.

Your eyes widen at the sight. “Charles,” you utter; your voice sounding weaker as you crouch beside Jean to help.

The feeling in your stomach only grows bigger when you look at the professor; monitors hooked up to his body as he lays on the table unconscious.

“I’m sorry.” Logan apologizes, staring at you and Scott before turning. You look back to say something only to see that Logan left.

Scott tenses up, only looking at the professor before him as he raises his fist against his chin.

You look at Scott, hesitating before you leave the room to look for Logan.

Stepping out the elevator you see him about to leave the mansion, “Logan,” you call, catching up to him.

“Where are you going?” You ask. Logan stops and faces you, “I was just going to get some air.”

“Oh, okay.” You mutter.

He continues his way outside as you trail behind him. You watch as Logan stops at the step of the mansion, taking a seat on the stairs.

“You following me now?” He speaks, not bothering to turn around. He reaches in his pocket, pulling out a cigar and lighter.

“No,” you shrug, moving to sit beside him. “Just wanted to get some air too.”

He looks at you as you offer a small smile in return. He scoffs, a smug look slightly showing on his face.

You watch as he turns to light his cigar.

“You know Rogue is in my class,” you say, trying to start a conversation.

“Oh, yeah?” He replies, taking a puff of his cigar.

“She’s a sweet girl.” You tell him.

It’s silent for a moment before you speak up again.

“I talked to her before the whole train station and magneto incident.” You tell him.

“About what?” He asks you.

You turn to him and smile, “I told her that we want her here at the mansion, that she deserves to be at this school.”

He stares at you, opening his mouth to speak before Scott comes up behind you two.

“We found something.” Scott says looking at you.

You quickly stand up while Logan puts out his cigar as you both follow Scott back into the mansion.

All of you enter the room, seeing that Ororo and Jean are both already there.

“Magneto is here, Liberty Island.” Scott says as the table contorts into Liberty Island. “Presumably his objective is to mutate the world leaders at the summit on Ellis Island.”

Ororo speaks with her arms crossed as she stares at the map. “He doesn’t know his machine kills, and judging from what the professor saw if Magneto gave Rogue enough power-”

“He could wipe out everyone in New York City.” Jean says in realization, cutting off Ororo.

“All right.” Scott starts. “We can insert here at the George Washington Bridge. Come around the bank, just off of Manhattan, land on the far side of Liberty Island, here.” The map moving as he finishes.

“What about harbor patrol? Radar?” Logan questions, his voice stern.

Scott turns to Logan with a sarcastic smile, “if they have anything that can pick up our jet, they deserve to catch us.”

Logan doesn’t bother to reply, instead he just looks up at him with a straight face.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

an ─ it took me a couple of days to finish this chapter since I’ve just been so busy but I managed😝🙏 anyways mind the mistakes I haven’t gotten the chance to proof read this yet so yeah!! Also my taglist keeps getting messed up so I’ll fix that soon hopefully😭

🏷️: @cxptainbuck @thecraziestcrayon @marvelgirlie-4 @ravenslvt @malfoys-demigod @byhuenii @evanpetersmood @avatarobsessedgirly @kinokomoonshine @heysupersoldier @imjustatiredpersonsposts @deaky-with-a-c @needz1nk

[yelenasdog]

vibrant, saccharine, his ☼ (fwb!mat barzal x fwb!fem reader) 

genre: filthy smut, fluff, angst with happy ending

summary: pretending is getting harder, for both of them. and after a hard roadie, mat’s not sure if he wants to pretend anymore.

words: 8.7k (WOAH)

warnings: cursing, excessive use of parentheses, friends with benefits arrangement, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, blood (reader bit lip too hard oops!), pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), reader is described as having sisters and a dog, food mention, idiots to lovers, misunderstood situation, reader uses she/her pronouns, and i think that’s it.

a/n: when i started this, i originally was just writing a blurb and then it turned into a full ass fic with a plot?? and fwb??? idk man, im nervy to post this since ive never published for nhlers before but oh whale! and ty to @eminems-skittles for reading this for me and checking it over 🤍 love u

“You played so good, baby.” She breathed, welcoming him home with open arms.

“Not good enough, apparently.” He responded, letting her fingers card through his raven locks. Soft, freshly cut. She loved when he grew it out, but yet again it was him, so anything worked.

She sighed, letting her thumb fall to his cheekbone, knowing what he was referring to. It had been the last stop of the road trip, he’d had a hatty and despite making it to OT, it wasn’t enough in the shootout.

He’d had to wait an entire flight and car ride afterwards to see her, only giving her a brief text when he got off the ice (“We lost. Had a hatty. Fucking Toronto.”) (like she hadn’t stayed up to watch the game) and another when he landed.

And after so long of whatever the two of them had going on, she’d known better than to try to send him some long and winded attempt at a pick me up message. She settled for just responding “I’ll be here.” She didn’t need to say it though, he knew she’d be there.

She always was.

To anyone else it would’ve been sad, how she waited up for him, late nights spent lonely with just her and her dog, as he jetted around North America. In her mind, he was no doubt giving himself away to whatever random puck bunny threw herself his way.

Despite this, she was loyal, even though she had her suspicions about what he did when they were apart. And frankly, it wasn’t a part of the “deal” that they had to be exclusive, and it was none of her business. But truthfully, after so long, she couldn’t count on some washed up juniors player to give her even a fraction of the satisfaction he had.

So, she did this whole routine, whatever this was. She stayed up late watching his games, sitting on her couch in his sweatshirt he left. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but whenever she wore it, she liked to pretend.

Pretend that she was an obedient girlfriend wearing her loving boyfriends sweater. That as she sat curled up waiting on the corner of the beat up black sofa, 3 coffees in at approximately 1:37 am, she would be rewarded for her efforts come morning time.

That her and said loving boyfriend would lounge around together in bed (after he woke her up in the best way he knew how, showing her how grateful he was. Like I said, she loved when his hair was long enough to tug on, and even though she endlessly made fun of his patchy stubble, she couldn’t deny how delicious it felt burning between her thighs. Especially after they’d spent so long apart.) Then they’d go and grab late brunch, holding hands under the table as they sipped mimosas, which were Mat’s guilty pleasure only her and the waiter knew about, before heading home.

Maybe then they’d FaceTime his mom back in Coquitlam, an early riser with the 3 hour time difference. Mat had felt bad interrupting her morning routine, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to her boy and the girl who she hoped was her future daughter in law.

After they got off the phone, she’d tell him how much she loved his mom, how her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He’d tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching as she leaned into his touch.

“Missed you, Mat.” She’d say, closing her eyes.

“I missed you more.” He’d respond, his voice nearly a whisper. Her eyes would flutter open, and he’d recognize the look in them immediately. He felt his blood rush, and suddenly their proximity, which he’d never get used to, was very obvious.

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “I doubt that.”

He swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Her eyes hungrily swept over them, wanting nothing more than to lean forward and capture them with her own.

But patience is a virtue, she supposed.

“Want me to prove it, pretty boy?”

Words failed him, and all he could do was nod. He relaxed into the sofa, watching as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands were on either thigh as he fought the urge to lay his tired head back onto the beat up pleather behind him. It had been too long, he thought. And he’d be damned if he was going to miss out on seeing her do what he’d only imagined in the shower, or over the phone for the past 16 days.

She reached her hands up from the muscle of his thigh up to his tummy, her cold hands shocking him as she reached under his sweatshirt- the same one she’d been wearing before.

Her hands drifted, down, down, down, to the waistband of those damn Lululemon shorts she’d got him for Christmas. He held his breath, watching as they danced around where he needed her most and then-

The doorknob turns, and she’s brought back to reality. Sleep had almost claimed her, iced coffee left abandoned on the coffee table, a ring of condensation already drying on the glass. She attempts to smooth out her hair, hoping that her brief almost-nap hadn’t left her too disheveled.

Not that he’d care.

She stood to greet him as he opened the door, hockey bag, and garment bag, and duffle bag, and backpack, and- God, did he really need all that- and suitcase, dropped unceremoniously as he entered the threshold. He kicked the huge bag to the side, and it landed right under where her keys and her leash for her old mutt, Warrior, hung from the wall.

Above the leash hung a picture of her and her sisters, with her running shoes on the floor beneath it for easy access. They were nearly squished by the gear, and if it had been anyone else’s shit crushing her 160 dollar sneakers, she’d be angry. But the sight of his bag near her shoes was so weirdly domestic, she could’ve cried.

She, yet again, was snapped out of her fantasy by the closing of the heavy door, watching as the man in front of her shuffled forward, immediately allowing himself to be held by her. His head fell to her shoulder, and rather than the usual clash of teeth and shoving to get to her room, (they never went to never his place after a roadie. He needed to be away from the constant reminders of it all for awhile, just to be surrounded by her) she simply dropped a chaste kiss to his temple, letting her arm drop from his hair to his broad shoulders, squeezing once, twice, three times, on either one.

He stood up, and she led him to her room, though he knew the way well enough. Her hand in his felt nice, comforting, even, and he wasn’t going to complain. In the beginning of the arrangement the two of them had, touches like that had been normal. But as time went on, the barely there brushes and gentle caresses stopped all together.

He wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what was wrong, if it was something he did. But when he was off the ice, Mathew Barzal was not a man who liked to push his luck. So he didn’t. He let the touches slip away, and took what he could get from her.

Which right now, was toeing off his shoes, and crawling onto the plush comforter of her bed. It smelled like that sparkly ”fairy dust” shit from Lush he saw sitting on her bathroom counter once, cotton candy and bubblegum infiltrating his senses. That, and her favorite floral perfume he was all too familiar with on her pillow. A combination of scents he usually would find too much, sickly-sweet. But it was her, and that alone made it the most soothing aroma he’d ever known.

Initially when he’d gotten off the ice, the adrenaline had been pumping, and his anger had been rampant. All he’d wanted was to get home to her, have his way with her. To have an outcome he could control.

He’d kept himself relatively calm in the locker room, not having any outbursts towards Ilya, or anyone for that matter. If any of the guys had noticed he was uncharacteristically quiet, they didn’t say anything.

That is, until the bus ride to the airport.

He had been typing out his text to her, (Hatty, lost in OT, Toronto, you know the one), when he had felt a pair of peering eyes. Sitting in the back of the bus, he’d thought he’d done well to avoid such glances, but apparently not.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be sulking so much.” A certain French-Canadian spoke, the brunette man’s tired eyes lingering over Mat’s hunched over form.

If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was more pep talks from Tito. He’d had more than his fill in the locker room. And though he loved the guy, he didn’t need to be told again how he “did everything right” and had a ”killer game”.

Because he knows, and that’s partly why he’s so mad.

Partly. As the other part is the fact that he wants more than anything to come back to NY to her arms. He was exhausted at this point, and rather than having his way with her, he now just wanted to be welcomed home into those ridiculously cozy sheets. He wanted her to light up all those overpriced candles she loved so much from Bath and Bodyworks, and for Warrior to snuggle up by him, stinky dog breath be damned. He wanted her to turn on ”Miracle” in the back as white noise, and laugh as she repeated all the lines from memory. (He may be Canadian, but he can appreciate a heart warming story told by Kurt Russell when he sees one.)

More than anything, though, he wanted her. And not just for an hour or two before he inevitably dragged himself out of those silky sheets that felt heavenly on his back, leaving her sleeping beside him. She looked peaceful in those moments, and he often wondered what she dreamt of. If she was dreaming of him as he did of her.

Bottom line was, Mathew was the victim of a series of unfortunate events. And the man to his left could recognize that it wasn’t just the hockey that was bothering him. (Though, that whole situation did suck pretty bad, he’d admit.)

So when Anthony told him he shouldn’t be sulking, he flashed him a tight lipped smile and a nod, before looking out the window at the Toronto sunset. The oranges and pinks were stunning, and more than anything their vibrancy reminded him of her. The smile she’d give him in her post-orgasm glow, or of the orange blossom on the bottle of perfume on her vanity. Beauvillier’s gaze never faltered, though, recognizing the deep train of thought his close friend was experiencing.

The screen of his phone had begun to darken, the draft of his message just barely visible. Tito’s eyes quickly shifted from the screen and back up to Barzy, opening his mouth and pausing momentarily.

“Who’re you texting?”

Mat quickly turned off the device, the “click” sounding out in the quiet bus cabin, most of the Islanders players catching some shut eye or watching that new Game of Thrones spin off.

Personally, Mat didn’t get the appeal.

“Nobody, just… a friend I’m visiting tonight when we get back.”

Anthony’s eyebrows went up, making a face of understanding as he slowly nodded three times.

“A friend, huh?”

Mathew nods, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go. “Yup.” He adds softly for good measure, popping the p.

“You visiting a friend after a game like that, this late, hm?” Another pause. ”Must be an important friend.”

“Yeah.” His voice is soft again, compassion coming across his features and he thinks of her again.

“Well“, Anthony starts, popping in his earbuds and opening his phone to his Music app. “I’d say whatever’s going on with this friend seems worth talking to her about.”

Mat‘s head snaps up, and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say that it was a she-“

“You didn’t have to, buddy.” Tito winks in the most annoyingly-Tito way, and chuckles to himself. He then lays his head back onto the navy material behind him. Mat “hmph”s to himself, doing the same. He turns his phone back on again, going to the chat between the two of them. The still blinking cursor seems like it’s mocking him as he runs a hand over his face, hitting send.

If there’s gonna be any deep, emotional shit, it can wait until he’s not 2500 miles away.

7 hours later when he finally crashes through her front door, he swears the relief he feels mixed with the sense of dread it all might be over in an hour, gives him whiplash. But nonetheless, she welcomes him in, and she feels like home.

Warrior watches from the couch, his tail lazily wagging as he observes his owner greeting the man who occasionally slips him bacon from his Starbucks sandwich. His old man (old dog?) body doesn’t find the arrival of the hockey player worthy of leaving his nest on the sofa, as to him that’s all Mathew Barzal is. The bringer of bacon.

To Warrior’s owner, though, he was so much more.

The trek to the bedroom felt like it took an eternity, and as he laid on her bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a bad idea to push his luck for once. Risk ending it all to gain everything.

She laid down next to him, and he shifted, going from laying with his arms crossed under his head, to one next to her head, the other keeping him stable from his position on top of her.

Her hand crept up to push an unruly lock out of his eyes, and she leaned forward, and he met her halfway. They paused briefly, taking each other in after so long, before finally closing to distance.

He tasted warm, like cinnamon and something she couldn’t place, and she wondered if at the airport he’d gotten one of those pretzels she knew he liked so much. To compliment his psychopath reminiscent black coffee, of course.

His hand went from where it had been cradling her face down to rest on her hip. The soft touch elicited a whimper, and at that he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

She recognized that something was off, swimming around in that pretty little head of his. A small frown etched its way onto her face, and she lifted his chin up so he had no choice but to look at her.

“What’s wrong, Mat?”

He took in a shaky breath, looking over to his left, where the TV was on some random wallpaper, a sunset, he realizes. He scoffs, looking back at her.

“Can you just- can we- can I- fuck.” He mutters, slowly falling down so his body weight is nearly on top of her.

“Can you just… hold me?”

She swears she’s never heard him sound so broken.

“Yeah, baby, ’course. C’mere.” She replies softly, allowing him to fully rest on her. It was a miracle that he didn’t fully break down right there, at the feeling of her fingertips dancing over his skin, under his pushed up shirt. His nose was cold against her neck as he dragged it up against her to come to her cheek, pressing a kiss there. His eyes never opened, afraid that if they did, it would all just be another elaborate fantasy he’d created to pass the time.

“Is this a good idea?” Came her voice, cutting through the silence.

He sniffles. “What do you mean?”

“This. Us.” She says, not able to meet his gaze where he’s lifted his head.

“We’re going to get hurt. More than we already have.”

Oh. Oh, fuck this was happening right now. Mat sat up, feeling like a scared teenage boy. Damn you and the way you read people, Beauvillier. Maybe this would’ve been easier from 2500 miles away.

“We don’t have to.”

“What other option do we have?” She said, sounding defeated, like she already knows her answer and she doesn’t like it. “I-I can’t keep doing this no strings attached shit. Not when you do this. Not when you come here all beat up like some sad puppy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was.

“Don’t be. I should’ve known this would happen.” Her voice was soft, her eyes distant.

“That what would happen?” He questioned. She looked at him like he had two heads.

“That you’d leave, Mat. That this whole pretending bullshit wouldn’t be enough for me.”

He leaned forward again, catching her off guard.

“I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

She looked away briefly, mentally cursing herself for being so emotional as tears began to well up in her eyes. He fell to her side, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Do you really want this?” She asked, the tears rolling down her face illuminated a hue of pink from the salt lamp on the bedside table. Mathew reached out a hand, dragging his thumb over the droplet. He hated that she was crying, but fuck, she sure looked pretty while doing it.

His answer came without thought, he’d done enough of that on his way over.

“Yes. I want you in every way, if you’ll have me.”

A small smile came onto the corners of her face, and she nodded, shortly at first, but more exaggerated as they started laughing, a small “yeah?” escaping from Mathew. She responded with the same, and he took that as his sign to reach forward, closing the distance between them.

And like all the times before, they fell into their routine, her hands going down to his hips, lifting the gray material of his shirt over his head. He returned the favor, the two of them moving in sync as she lifted her hips and he gently slid off her shorts. He ran his palms along her bare thighs and she shivered at the feeling, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Mathew.

“I missed you, y/n.” He admitted, running a hand through his, now, unruly hair.

Another vibrant smile came across her face, easing whatever nerves Mat had left over from his confession.

“I missed you more, Mathew.”

He shook his head, dipping down to leave sloppy kisses on her neck. Taken aback, she let a shaky breath escape. He pulled back, satisfied with the response he’d pulled from her.

“Not possible.”

In a moment of boldness (and a slight hope to allow a fantasy to come to life) she challenged him.

“Prove it, then.”

His eyes darkened, then, and he surged forward. Her remaining clothes, which was just his sweatshirt and a flimsy cami, were gone in an instant. She was left in just a pair of black undies, Mat nearly cumming on the spot at the sight, like he’s some horny teenager. His apparel soon joined the growing pile on the floor, as she made a remark about how it wasn’t fair he was still so covered.

She shamelessly raked over his naked form, save for the black boxers, with his firm muscles, sore from the roadie, prominent as ever. She might’ve been drooling, she wasn’t sure. He smirked, the effect he had on her not lost to him.

The two began to kiss again, and there was no other way to describe it other than that it just felt right.

Mathew wasted no time, allowing his hand to trail down and cup her clothed heat, his thumb passing over her clit and past her entrance with a feather light touch. She shivered, her hips lifting up to chase the brief sensation. He pulled her panties to the side, teasing her entrance with his middle finger.

It was immediately covered in her slick, as was the black fabric he’d moved aside. It made him groan just from the sensation alone, making her chuckle at his behavior. Her laugh soon was cut off as he sunk the finger in, giving her no time to adjust, not that she needed it with how ready she was for it, before adding another.

His palm just barely grazed her begging clit as he pumped in and out slowly. And as she continued to lift her hips trying to feel him deeper, push his hand closer to her clit, she fully expected him to push her down and put her in her place.

But this whole thing was about showing him how much he missed her, how much he appreciated her. To show her that he was staying. And him staying meant that he’d have plenty of chances in the future to be an insufferable tease, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Matty, please-“ it was more of a breathy whine, not intelligible to an untrained ear. But thankfully for her, that wasn’t Mat.

“You want more, baby?” He questioned, knowing the answer. She nodded, hair splayed around her like a halo on the pillow. She was still illuminated from the TV screen and the salt lamp, making her look like an angel of sorts, not of this world.

“Look at me then, sweetheart. Wanna see that I’m makin’ you feel good.”

Her eyes that met his were glazed over and doe like, and it melted Mat’s insides at just one look. He did his best to push down the mushy feeling that arose, before realizing he didn’t have to anymore. He could feel as sickeningly in love as he wanted, no consequences.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. So needy, fuckin’ perfect girl.” He remarked, adding in a third finger. She let out a borderline pornographic cry, and Mat picked up his pace. His gaze only faltered from her face, contorting in pleasure, back to where he was pumping in and out of her, unable to resist the urge to watch in amazement.

Though her legs were flailing, going from propped up to sliding down and spread, rustling the comforter, she somehow had enough mind to reach a hand down. She attempted to run tight circles around her clit, but not before her hand was pinned to her side by the center above her,

“No, baby. Lemme.”

His range of motion was wider and his thrusts harder as he curled his fingers to perfectly hit that spot inside her that made her see stars, fully trailing his hand over her sex. He repeated the action again, and again, and again- and fuck, she didn’t know how long she’d go on like this but she never wanted the feeling to stop.

He felt her tighten around him, and he picked up his pace, knowing she was almost there.

“Mat!” she managed to get out between strangled moans and panting breaths. He leaned down, kissing below her ear on the one spot he knew drives her crazy. She was halfway thinking, well, less than halfway with her state at the moment, that he would cruelly pull his hand away as she reached her peak. So she clamped her thighs together in an attempt to trap him, subconsciously more than not.

It didn’t stop him from grinding his palm against her like he had been, leaning down to capture her lips with his in a searing kiss.

Everything at once was just so much, the obscene sounds coming from both their mouths and her wet heat, the feeling of Mathew’s bare skin on top of her, the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, and oh my God, after so long it’s fucking finally happening-

He felt as her chest seized and she pulled away from the kiss, her head slamming back before falling to the side. She cried out, her orgasm hitting her like nothing had before.

He found her lips in the chaos beneath him, his hand parting her thighs as she went lax, lazily pumping in and out as she rode out her high. Her slick coated the inside of her thighs, and Mat pulled away momentarily and she whined, like the little brat she was allowing herself to be.

He only smirked, leaning down to kiss on her collarbone, letting his tongue sweep over the seemingly shimmering expanse of skin before him. He moved further down, savoring the taste of her, how it felt to be so close to her. No guards up, no shields, no screening involved.

She moved her ring clad hands to run fingers through his locks, that fucking smile coming across her face. He looked up from where his hands were holding either side of her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to not make it hurt, but to say “I’m here. I’m not leaving.” His chin rested above her bellybutton, and he felt suddenly seen, bashful almost. He continued his trail down in a half assed attempt to hide his face, her breath hitching when he made it to her mound.

Her breath barely returned to her as he skipped over where she thought he was headed, instead opting to take her right leg over his shoulder, moving down the expanse of it to her ankle. He brought his eyes to meet hers, and a tender hand ran up and down the distance of it. He kissed the inside of her ankle, making his way up to the skin where her thigh met her already aching sex.

He lightly nudged his nose against the area, before attaching his lips. He started sucking on the skin there, licking her clean. Satisfied, he moved to the other side, beginning his good work.

“Mat,” she broke her silence, her voice splintered and low, “don’t tease. Please.”

He raised his eyebrows, seemingly in jest.

“I think we’re a little far gone from teasing, eh?” He asked, and truthfully, one mind blowing orgasm later, they were.

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever hotshot.”

“New nickname?” He questioned. “I like it.” He huffed, returning to his place between her legs. “But I fucking love this pussy, baby.”

And with that, he dove in. He immediately groaned at what he had found. (Which, obviously, caused her to tug at that perfect head of hair, eliciting another groan.)

If possible, she had become even wetter with the mix of his spit and her nectarine juices. It dripped down his chin, and he wanted to stay there forever. He’d found solace there, he thought. No Maple Leafs, no Tito, no hatty that meant jackshit in the end.

Just her and her consummate being. Vibrant, saccharine. His.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent drawing her closer and closer to the edge, but somewhere between repeated chants of praises and whatnot, he’d slipped.

“Fucking love this cunt, fucking love you-“

He hadn’t realized what he said, and if he had, he didn’t seem to care. But his words alone were enough to rip an unassuming orgasm from her. She didn’t allow herself long enough to think about if he meant to say it or not, or even to ride out the aftershocks rolling through her nerves. She grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him away from her glistening cunt and up to where she connected their lips.

A small sound of surprise, not reluctance, escaped from where they were joined. Her hands came to cradle either side of his face, and Mat thinks that he might’ve cried from the tender action. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to ask. Hey, it’d been a long day.

“You mean it?”

He realized what he had said, then, eyes wide and somehow his face even more flushed than before. He considered lying, like when Tito had asked who he was texting and he’d said a friend.

But where would that leave him, he wondered?

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” He added after a beat of silence.

And in those few moments nothing had seemed scarier.

Not when he was 18, getting skipped over by teams in the draft, and that voice in the back of his head had told him that, somehow, everyone had collectively decided to skip Mathew Barzal. Not when he was 19 playing in his first game for the Isles, having to follow up Auston Matthews first NHL game where he had four goals. Four. Fuck.

No, all that was topped by this. By the same fear he’d had earlier when he’d been on the bus, or when he’d arrived at her apartment.

But all of that fear was dissolved in a second after her laugh sounded out in the small bedroom, her eyes crinkling at the edges. She pulled him down towards her, and the sound of her laughter pulled a radiant smile from the hockey player that he felt like hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

She rolled over on top of his chest, leaning forward and throwing her arms around his neck. His chain was glinting, now, in the light she had previously been bathed in, and it caught her eye as it rested against his milky complexion.

“You looooove me.” She regarded in a sing-song voice, and Mat rolled his eyes despite the smile growing on his face. She leaned down, and Mathew’s grip on her bare hips tightened, all too aware of the wet spot left on his stomach from her leaking sex.

She mirrored his previous movements down his chiseled body, a regular Adonis in his own right. She left open mouthed kisses, the wet patches from them adding to the thin sheen that covered his body. She made her way down to his boxers, the obvious tent making her stifle a laugh. He caught it though, of course, and rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Laugh it up, babe. Laugh at my misery.” He commented, to which she only shook her head.

“Patience is a virtue, Mathew.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Well, he had a point there.

So rather than talk, she decided she’d put her mouth to good use. She pulled down his boxers at a painstakingly slow rate, watching as his cock slapped up against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, the tip red and weeping, begging to be attended to. He kicked off the boxers, paying no mind to how they slipped onto the floor, forgotten. She didn’t either, as she was sure he had to have some extra in one of his gazillion bags sitting in her entry way.

Her nails scratched down his stomach, angry red lines puffing up and decorating around the expanse of his skin. They were accompanied by freckles and marks and scars that she could have mapped together with her eyes closed. She knew Mathew like the back of her hand. And with that, came knowing how to make him come undone in her hands.

She started leaving small kisses at the base of his shaft, before swiping the bead of precum from his head down to the rest of him. She pumped her hand a few times, and Mathew let out a strangled moan. She thought he couldn’t get any louder, feeling bad for her neighbors at whatever hour in the night it was, but she was quickly proven wrong.

She licked a long stripe from the bottom to his tip, before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. She bobbed her head a few times, jacking off whatever she couldn’t fit with her hands. She hollowed her cheeks, and the rise and fall of Mathew’s chest quickened. The sound he let out was animalistic, and it sent another wave of arousal through her body. She moaned involuntarily, and the feeling caused Mathew to buck his hips.

“You’re doing so good, baby. ‘M not gonna last with you going at me- shit- like that.”

He brought a large hand down to the side of her face, lightly stroking her cheek. It was a moment of wholesomeness that reminded them what they were now, what he had said.

Mat could tell she was tired, her pace decreasing. The look in her eyes never changed, though. And as he went to speak to tell her it was okay, and she didn’t have to (and because since it had been so long, he was scared he’d bust his load if she wasn’t careful), she pulled off.

A string of saliva followed, and the sight looked like a thumbnail of a shitty porno. Her eyes were droopy and glazed over, and Mat’s hypothesis was proven correct.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to finish. Let me take care of you.” He repeated his sentiment from earlier. She only shook her head, continuing to jack him off with her hand. Oh. He thought. That’s not what I was expecting.

“S’okay, Matty. Wanna make you feel good.”

She ran her thumb over his tip again, her glassy and swollen bottom lip hanging ajar as she concentrated. The moans he was letting slip free could only be described as pathetic, the 190 pound hockey player putty in her hands.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t, God, baby, shit! I-If you don’t stop.”

And then she pulled her hand off, and he let out a quick breath at the momentary relief, if that was even the right word. But it was short lived, and she managed to hoist herself up, dragging her folds along his cock, before stabilizing herself with hands on his chest. He slid inside of her, and the sounds they both let out echoed off her walls.

She started moving, and then it was “You’re fuckin’ amazing, you know that? So fuckin’ amazing. My girl, my perfect girl.” He rambled, the events of just that day alone scrambling his mind trying to keep up. Similarly to how she felt earlier, everything was just too much for the poor man. She felt like Heaven around him, and he watched in awe from below her as she moved, enamored by the woman he loves.

As she became more and more tired, her movement slowed, reduced to her grinding herself down on his cock. Mat was barely hanging on, trying to make it last as long as possible. He could tell she was close too, as she squeezed him like a vice, and put her energy into picking up her pace.

“Fuck, Matty. Feels s’good. Love you- shit! I love you so much, baby.” She told him, her eyes closed and her face screwed up as she chased her high. But something snapped in Mathew at her confession, and with a quick “fuck” under his breath, he flipped the two of them without ever leaving her.

He was relentless.

He slammed in and out, and at the sudden change in position and pace, she was blindsided. She thrashed around him, her hands everywhere at once. Her hair, his hair, grasping at his shoulders, scratching down his back. She settled for his biceps, as his hands were planted. One on the right side of her head, the other gripping her hip bone so hard, she was sure it’d bruise.

“It’s only ever been you, baby. I promise you.”

“Shit, Mat!” She cried, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She loosely draped her legs around his middle, allowing him to reach new depths within her. He was fucking her senseless, and they fucking loved it.

“It’ll only ever be you. I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, Y/n.” His hair hung in his eyes as he fought to keep them open. He shook it out of his eyes, wanting to see her as she came in all her glory.

“Love you, Mat. So much, baby. You have no idea.”

His pelvis snapped harder against her, just barely reaching up and grazing her clit in the most exquisite way. The rope in her stomach began to tighten for the third time that night, so close to breaking she could almost taste it.

Actually, she could taste it, she realized. She had been biting down so hard on her bottom lip she could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, and fuck, it was all the more delectable.

“Mat!” It was another exclamation, followed by more babbles. “‘S too much, Matty, can’t do it.” Her voice was small, and despite the nature of the statement, Mat felt his heart flutter.

He shook his head. “Yes, you can, baby. I know you’re tired, but you can do it, Y/n. You’ve got another one in you sweetheart, pull through for me. I’ve got you.”

And never one to disappoint, especially not her Mathew, she did.

She came, and she came hard. But it wasn’t dramatic the way you’d think it’d be, at least not outwardly. Her breathing stopped, her toes curled, and her nails dug into the skin on Barzy’s arms. It wasn’t accompanied by a loud scream, or a drawn out, high pitched moan. It was a breath of relief that left her when she came, her head falling to the side and her eyes closing. A quiet moan of Mat’s name, and she was clamping down on him.

The sweet way his name fell off her tongue, mixed with how she was so damn tight around him as she came, and he was done for. It triggered his own orgasm, and he felt the same feeling of peace wash over him that she had as he spilled into her. He fucked her through it, soft thrusts calming whatever aftershocks they both were experiencing. She had gone limp under him, her eyes opening as she gave him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

He stayed in her, lowering himself onto his side, then maneuvering them so she was laying on him. They were a cliché and they knew it, but they couldn’t seem to care. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, before it was broken by Mathew’s scratchy post-sex voice. Swoon.

“So,” he started. She raised a brow, wondering where he was going with this.

“You looooove me, too, then?” He mimicked her tone from earlier, and they broke out in a fit of laughter as she slapped his arm and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re alright.” She feigned annoyance, propping herself up on her right arm as she faced the man she loved. Mat scoffed, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Just alright? You’re crazy, lady.”

“But you love me.”

Not a beat passed before “I do.”

She smiled softly, lifting up a hand to run a finger along his jaw. He caught it with his own, never breaking eye contact as he kissed her palm. Again, swoon.

“I know.” She responded, wanting to stay in that moment forever. But, she knew that if she stayed where she was too long, she’d more than likely fall asleep in record time. So, she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, which he turned to catch before she could go, pulling her back for a “real” kiss at his protest.

A petulant child, that’s what he is.

She pressed one more to his lips for good measure, before pulling himself off of him. They both let out disgruntled sounds at the sudden losses, and it took all her energy to sit up on the edge of her bed. She felt a strong jaw on her shoulder, and she leaned into it.

“Where you goin’? Leaving me all alone isn’t very nice.” She could hear the frown in his voice, and even though she knew he was joking, it tugged on her heartstrings that little bit.

“Gotta pee.” She said, standing up and walking towards the connecting bathroom. “Sorry baby, no UTIs for me.”

The frown stayed cemented on his face.

“You should be grateful,” she threw over her shoulder, shutting the door. “No UTIs, more fucking, yeah?”

He chuckled at her bluntness, deciding to go and get her some water and maybe a snack. Shit, he didn’t know. What was he supposed to do? Usually when they fucked before, her or Mat would be out the door as soon as possible, still trying to ward off those pesky feelings. But now, he was allowed to feel said pesky feelings, and he’d be damned if he fucked it up.

So, snack. And water? Yeah, water, for sure. He was hungry and thirsty, why wouldn’t she be. He had no idea the way around her kitchen, nor how to, er, actually make anything, so this would be rough. But, first, a pit stop.

He would have walked butt-ass naked into her kitchen, really, but then he remembered Warrior was out there and he didn’t have a need to traumatize that dog any further than he already was.

(It was one time, okay? He didn’t know she had a dog, he’d been asleep on his bed by the TV when they’d gotten to her place. And at the time, Mat was too preoccupied to notice.)

He looked around on the floor for the offending clothing item, slightly grossed out when he did finally find them. It was only for a minute, tops, is what he told himself, as he pulled on the boxers from earlier in the night.

He tiptoed, for literally no apparent reason, through the dark apartment until he found the bag he was looking for. He grabbed what he needed from it, struggling with the zipper while trying to close it, before giving up. On his way back to her room, he gave Warrior a nod and smile, and he swore the mutt gave one back. Okay, actually, on second thought, he remembered the clock on her microwave saying it was 3:18 AM, so, maybe he didn’t.

It was late and he just had the best sex of his life with the woman he loves. Give him a break. So what if he’s delusional and thinks he can communicate with dogs? At least he’s pretty.

When he gets to her room, he pulls on the newer, clean, pair of boxers, setting the other pair he grabbed from his bag on the bed for her when she got out of the bathroom, along with an Islanders shirt that he’d secretly always wanted to see her in. Too soon? Maybe. But after so long yearning for everything domestic and wholesome and good that he was convinced he didn’t deserve with her, he was indulging a little bit. So sue him.

His next stop, snacks. And water, can’t forget the water.

The water was easy enough, he got lucky. He grabbed her “emotional support cup” as she’d called it before when she thought he wasn’t listening, and went over to the fridge. He got a few ice cubes and put them in, and then went over to her Brita. He stood there, pressing down on the little lever, watching the steady stream of water into the cup. It was almost laughable, how he stood there in the dead silence, concentrating so hard. He was determined not to somehow do something wrong, even though it was just pouring a cup of water. Cute.

He checked the pantry once the cup was full, with the lid safely screwed on top. The rustling about caught the attention of Warrior, who hopped down from where he’d been on the couch, moseying on over.

Mat, who still was slightly wary of Warrior, despite the fact the dog would cause him no harm, shook his head at the mutt.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t have anything for you.”

He turned his head and gave him puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops. Mat sighed, looking back to the pantry. He saw a box of Milkbones, and looked back to Warrior, who was egging him on. (They’re telepathically connected, remember?)

He reached in the box, pulling one out, and tossing it down. Warrior gratefully accepted, taking his treat and waltzing off to his bed to chow down. Mat looked in the pantry, going to close the box, when he sees it, his saving grace.

White bread, hallelujah.

He can do toast. Mathew Barzal is a totally capable 25 year old man who can make toast. So, he takes the bag, going over to the toaster. And-

One look at all those fancy buttons, and he’s tapped out.

Okay, it’s okay, he can remember seeing a vending machine on his way into her apartment. Yeah, he remembers her telling him about having to sign off on some HOA form for it, even though she was just renting. Apparently, her landlord hadn’t signed, which made it her job. Whatever, that’s irrelevant.

He figured that there wouldn’t be anybody out in her hallway at 3:23 AM, so he grabbed his coat with his wallet, shrugging it on over his bare back. His slides were somewhere in his hockey bag and the last thing he wanted to do was stink up her whole place by opening that Pandora’s box. So, barefoot it is.

He does his best to sneak out the apartment, leaving the door ajar as he makes the short walk to the vending machine, grateful his search was over. He let out a long sigh as he stood, wondering what to get her.

For himself he decided on a bag of cool ranch Doritos, and a bag of those tiny cookies. For her, he racked every corner of his brain for potential options, before realizing how long he’s taking, and how long he’d been gone. So, not wanting to waste any more time, he elected for one of everything.

He punched in the numbers and paid, attempting to grab them from the machine. Trying to pick up the few that had fallen, he leaned down. His attention was called elsewhere by the ”click!” of a door a few units down. His head snapped to the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” He muttered under his breath upon what he saw.

A man probably not much older than himself, suitcase and backpack in tow, donned in, you guessed it, a New York Islanders hoodie a lá number 13.

The man had yet to notice the star player down the hall from him, and Mat was considering just making a run for Y/n’s place. But either way, he would have to go past the man, or the man would have to go past Mat to get to the elevator. Maybe he’d take the stairs? He hoped. Shit, who was he kidding, he’s not taking the stairs.

Starting his walk over, the unnamed Islanders fan lifted his head, stopping in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and if it wasn’t purely because of being in the presence of Mat Barzal, he had a hunch what it was.

Said hunch, was that it was due to the fact Mat Barzal was standing in front of him, in an apartment complex definitely not boujee enough for him to be living in, at 3:25 in the morning, naked, except for boxers and some fancy trench coat, holding several bags of snacks.

Mat would’ve laughed at the guys face, but he thought he wasn’t quite in the position to do so.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” And a stupid bro nod, was all Mathew could manage.

-

While he was facing that debacle, Y/n was having one of her own.

After she’d gone to the bathroom, she decided to try to do her nighttime routine, too. She put on her robe from where it had been hanging in her bathroom, beginning her little routine.

When she emerged 10 minutes later, Mat was nowhere to be seen.

His bags were still by the door, albeit one of them hastily thrown open. Was he leaving and had gotten some clothes and an Uber? Did he have last minute regrets? The door to her place was left open, and an overwhelming sadness began to take over her system. As the tears began to well up, she looked over to Warrior, only to notice him chewing on… a milkbone? How the hell did he get a milkbone?

She sniffled, wiping her sleeve under her nose. She sat down on her couch, looking at where her iced coffee from earlier was still sitting, ¾ of the way empty. The tears started to flow freely again after that, and she stood up, deciding that she should at least shut the door. She didn’t need to deal with a robbery, too.

As she stood and turned, she was met with a very discombobulated and very underdressed Mat trying to shove his way through the door.

“Have a good flight, man. Enjoy Miami!” Mat called over his shoulder to what sounded like her neighbor Gian, based off of the “Thanks bro, good luck this season!” she heard back.

She slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to not bust out laughing at the sight in front of her. Hearing her snickering, he looked up gesturing to the bags in his arms.

“Hungry?” He asked, the smile on his face falling when he saw the red around her eyes. He dropped all the snacks on the couch to his right, making his way over to where she stood.

“Hey, hey, why’re you crying? What’s wrong sweetheart?” He questioned, and his sincerity made her smile widely.

“Nah, I’m all good, don’t worry about it. Just thought you’d left, that’s all…” A pause. “But I see now that you just had a case of munchies, apparently.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her towards his chest. His chin rested on her head, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

“No, baby. God, no, I’m not leaving. I just wanted to do this whole thing right, and I thought you might be hungry, and I tried to make toast- your toaster is really complex by the way,”

She pulled away from him as he rambled, her smile reaching her eyes.

“And I filled your water and set out clothes for you and I really did try, baby. I didn’t mean to fuck anything up, really.”

She giggled again, taking hold of the shoulders of his jacket, shrugging it off. She folded it over the back of a barstool, then turned back towards Mat.

“And Gian?”

“Oh yeah, he’s cool. Ran into him in the hallway and introduced myself. Going to visit some family in Miami.”

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head in understanding. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“So, am I gonna have to compete with him for your attention now whenever you come over?”

He reciprocated the action, one hand coming up to rest on her chin.

“I mean, he’s gonna be gone for two weeks, but after that…” he shrugged, trailing off. She hummed, and he smiled at her, leaning forward. He searched her eyes for any remaining upset, unable to find any, before he pressed his lips to hers. It was sweet and gentle, with not a hint of rush or fervor.

When they pulled apart, she was smiling again. Her hands found their way back to his neck.

“And baby, you’re amazing. You didn’t fuck up anything at all, I promise.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She whispered, leaning in again to connect their lips. She let her tongue sweep over his bottom lip, biting down just barely before pulling away. She pushed down the sleeves of her robe just a bit, exposing her shoulders. Y/n took his hand, and started walking backwards, letting it slowly slip out of hers as she did.

“Come on, hotshot. Come to bed. Snacks will still be there in the morning.”

She smiled again briefly, before walking towards her room, the robe slipping down as she went. Mat stood watching her in total awe, glued in place, until he was knocked out of his trance.

“Hurry up! And lock the door, too, please!”

He had never obliged to anything quicker in his life.

(And as for the snacks, they were not still there in the morning, thanks to a certain mutt who managed to rip open all the packets on the couch. The next morning was spent at the vet, who had told them Warrior would be fine, just fat. The vet had only said this, though, after Mat had consoled a crying Y/n, who was under the impression he was going to be poisoned.

The rest of the day after that? Making up for lost time.)

FIN.

YO idk if that was good or not i kind of feel like i imagined writing the entire thing and it was a fever dream. but. anyway! if you liked it, be sure to reblog <3 thank u i love u! go eat some protein and drink some water. 

xx, hj

[serialreporter]

" Don't forget to lock your door. "

[fiapartridge]

intro (end of the world) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ | jack hughes

“how can i tell if im in the right relationship?”

☼ pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

☼ summary: after seeing jack for the first time since your breakup, you’re left seeking advice from your nonna…

☼ fia’s note 💌: first part of the series! thx for joining us on this 13-part-series, i’m very excited for what’s to come <3 pls enjoy “intro (end of the world)” ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

eternal sunshine hq ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

next part: bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

For the past two months, you’ve felt your chest tighten and your throat well up whenever you went to bed. The other side of the mattress felt absent and empty, like the space was waiting idly for a person who would never return.

But today felt different. You saw him for the first time since your breakup. His arm was slung around Nico’s shoulder at the cafe downtown as they talked about their next game against the Pittsburgh Penguins. You didn’t feel like curling up into a ball and rolling out of there before he could see you. No, you felt like breaking into a full-on sob, letting the tears rack through your body and shake you up until you were at his feet, begging him to take you back.

Yet you stood there and you watched Jack talk with Nico, and you clung to your chest, and you stretched the suffocating collar of your scratchy sweater, and you watched him meet your eyes—and you watched him look away. It was like your two-year-relationship was never a thing, as if he had erased all memories of you from his mind. It was like you were no one to him.

Looking around, the cafe seemed smaller, as if the walls were closing in on you and you had to get out quickly before you were trapped.

You sprinted back to your apartment in record time, and upon opening the door, your back hit the wooden slab as you slid down to the ground, pulling out your phone from your pocket. Your hands were shaking, your chest was rising up and down without fail, and your vision was blurred with the amount of tears falling down your pale cheeks.

You waited two rings until your grandmother picked up. She was your safe haven for all things in life. She always knew exactly what wise words to say, and while she was thousands of miles away, you imagined her stroking your hair as you laid your head down on her lap, asking her how life was so easy for her. She would say that her life was everything but that and then go on a long speech about her younger days. That was all you needed now, and all you wanted in the future: to have her, to hear her advice and life lessons, and to pretend she’s still there stroking your hair, wiping your tears, and humming her perfect girl to sleep.

“Nonna?” your voice was shaky and tired, and she could sense it immediately. You could hear her tell your grandfather that she would be in the bedroom if he needed her.

“Sweets? Are you alright?” You missed her voice. It felt like you were calling her less and less nowadays. You hoped she would forgive you for that.

“I,” you stammered, clinging to the silver pendant around your neck. “I feel like every time something good happens to me, it all just…fades away and I hate feeling this way. I hate it, but I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. It all just felt impossible, like feeling happy held this small entity in the back of your mind, telling you that it could all be over in just a matter of seconds. You felt that in your relationship with Jack, you felt that when you saw him earlier, you’ve been feeling that way ever since you walked out of his life.

Being with him wasn’t a solution, but not being with him also wasn’t a solution to your problem. You were stuck and you were clueless as to what to do next.

“Oh, honey,” Nonna’s voice was soft and full of empathy. “Life has a way of tossing us into turbulent seas, but remember that storms eventually pass, and the sun always rises again. You’re feeling the weight of loss now, but that doesn’t mean happiness won’t find its way back to you.”

“But that’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of the happiness, of finding someone new and getting hurt again.” You paused, sniffling before asking, “How can I tell if I’m in the right relationship? I feel like…like you’re supposed to know that type of stuff but I’ve never felt that, or maybe I’ve felt that too much and it’s never been true. I just… I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

[ilguna]

Expired Medicine Pls! Bucky & #5?

☼ left behind but never forgotten (Bucky Barnes) ☼

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, gun use, grenade use, fighting, injuries.

wc; 3.5k

prompt; 5. "I'll come back for you, I promise."

notes; spoilers for captain america the winter soldier.

--

 The halls of the hospital are busy, swarming with doctors and nurses. They flip through pages of documents, some of them dodging in and out of rooms. If there’s any bad time to be on a mission, it’s now. In a place that’s supposed to be secure and safe from danger. 

You told Steve that you’d come inside by yourself to retrieve the flash drive, but he didn’t trust you, wanting to make sure that he got it, himself. So, you follow behind him, letting him lead the way. He has his navy blue hood pulled up to block the view of his blonde hair and to shadow some of his more notable features. You know that he wants to avoid drawing attention, but you think it makes him look more suspicious than not. 

His pace comes to a slow pace as he stops in front of the vending machine. On the way, he told you that he put the flash drive behind three sticks of bubblegum while the employee was stocking it. He wanted it here for safe keeping because he’d gone back with some of the SHIELD members. And with Fury’s warning, he didn’t want to take any chances. 

You come up beside him, looking over his shoulder. Your eyes search the entire machine, looking for the aforementioned bubblegum. You even take a step back to get a bigger picture, but you come up with nothing. 

You glance at Steve. “This is a problem.”

“I know.”

The sound of popping behind you makes you turn to see where it’s coming from. It’s Natasha, loudly chewing the pink gum, eyes switching between you and Steve. He lets out an annoyed sigh before he steps at her, placing a firm hand in the middle of her chest to push her into the empty room across the hall.

The door opens with a slam as the blinds rattle against the glass.

“So much for not drawing attention.” You mutter, reaching to close the door behind you.

Steve pushes Natasha against the nearest wall, trapping her with one hand as he pulls off his hood with the other. “Where is it?”

“Safe.” She says.

“Do better.” 

“Where did you get it?” She counters.

“Why would I tell you?”

You glance out the window, watching another medical staff member pass by, completely oblivious of the three of you.

“Fury gave it to you. Why?” Her eyebrows are drawn in.

“What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head.

“Stop lying.” Steve tells her.

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers.” She says, as if it’s obvious.

Steve looks over his shoulder at you, maybe for assurance. Or to make sure that you’re standing nearby. When he looks back at Natasha, you step in closer. “I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?”

Natasha’s mouth opens, no words coming out for a second while she thinks of a response. “Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

Steve grabs her shirt. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“I know who killed Fury.” She finally says, Steve’s grip loosens. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“So he’s a ghost story.” You say, shaking your head. 

“Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out. But the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so he shot him straight through me.” She pulls up the bottom of her shirt, revealing a scar on her left side, a few inches away from her bellybutton. “Soviet slug. No rifling. Bye-bye, bikinis.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.” Steve remarks.

She gives him a halfway smile before it drops. “Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried.” She pulls out the flash drive from her pocket, holding it up between them. “Like she said, he’s a ghost story.”

“Well, let’s find out what the ghost wants.” Steve backs off of her, moving so that you can see them both. “Are you still in?”

“‘Course I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. “This sounds like fun.”

—

If you’d known you’d end up in a car, squished between Natasha and a HYDRA agent, you think you might’ve told Steve that he could figure this out on his own. It probably wouldn’t have gone over well. He might’ve even begged you a little bit to change your mind, but with Sam here, there’s really no need for you to be.

“Natasha, why don’t we switch spots?” You ask, eyeing Sitwell for another moment before looking at her. “I don’t feel comfortable sitting next to him. I think this is more your specialty.”

She gives you an amused look. “I told you not to get in the car first.”

Sitwell blinks, drawing his attention from the cars passing you by on the freeway, to you. “Afraid all that training is going to fail you?”

Your eyes narrow, “No.”

He sighs. “HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.”

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam retorts, looking at him in the mirror.

Natasha leans over you to speak to Steve, who’s sitting in the passenger seat. This pushes you closer to Sitwell. “Insight’s launching in sixteen hours. We’re cutting it a little bit close here.”

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Sitwell asks, eyes wide. “That is a terrible, terrible idea.”

A loud thud on the roof of the car makes it cave in a little. You only have enough time to glance up, before the window shatters next to Sitwell, sending glass flying all over the interior of the car. You shield your face, feeling the glass pelt your jacket and jeans, before landing on the now-empty leather seat.

Sitwell is gone, he screams briefly as he’s thrown into oncoming traffic on the other side of the concrete barrier, where he’s hit by a honking truck. You watch as a gun appears in front of the open window, the safety being turned off, before being pulled away.

Natasha leaps from the back seat to the front, landing in Steve’s lap as she pulls his head down. A bullet pierces the leather where she had just been, you slide there as another bullet slams in your seat. With two hands on the back of your head, you duck, listening as two more shots are fired.

When you raise your head, you catch Steve reaching forward to the emergency brake, yanking it back. The brakes screech against the asphalt, slamming the car to a hard stop. The man that had been on top of the car flies from the roof, somersaulting in the air so that he lands on a knee pad and a singular arm. A metal arm.

“What the fuck.” You breathe, watching as he dislodges his hands from the asphalt to rise to his feet. 

For a few seconds, it’s a stand-off, as the cars around you weave in and out of the lanes to avoid hitting the car you’re in. Natasha tries to whip out her gun to shoot at him, but an armored truck hits you from behind, making you jerk forward, forcing the car in his direction.

He jumps, landing back on the roof. Sam slams on the brakes, trying to stop, but the truck is too strong. A metal arm comes flying through the windshield, fingers wrapping around the steering wheel, breaking it off.

“Shit!” Sam screams.

Natasha tries shooting at the roof, but the Winter Soldier jumps off, onto the truck behind you. You turn, wanting to keep your eyes on the threat, and find him on the hood of the armored vehicle. 

“He’s accelerating!” You shout.

The trunk crumples further as you’re rammed again, this time throwing the car off course. It turns, wheel running up the side of the barrier, before forcing you back on the freeway. The car begins to wobble from side to side, growing more violent by the second.

Steve pulls up his shield, placing it on the passenger door. “Hang on!” He shouts, grabbing Natasha. 

The car begins to twist, you reach for the window that Sitwell had been forced out of, grabbing the edges and pulling up as you go airborne. Steve, Natasha and Sam must escape together out of the door, because when you look down to launch yourself out, they’re gone.

And so are you.

You cross your arms over your chest with fists, holding on tightly to the body of your jacket while you’re thrown into the air. You gain several more feet, and in that time, you duck your head, ankles locked together, until you come crashing down to Earth.

With the world being one giant dizzying blur, you have to guess how far away you are from the freeway. You hesitate, waiting for the best possible moment to land without hurting yourself. Unfortunately, it’s a second too long, because when you throw out your left foot to throw you into a roll, you land on it sideways.

The pain is immediate, but it takes up the back of your mind as you hit the concrete, rolling for several feet. When the momentum is gone, you sit upright, clutching at your ankle, eyes searching for your friends.

You find the overturned car, and then Natasha and Steve, who are still sitting on his Captain America shield. Beside you is Sam, who’s eyeing your ankle, worried. You’re more focused on the Hydra vehicle, and the fact that the Winter Soldier now holds a grenade launcher.

In one solid move, you grab the front of Sam’s shirt, throwing him down as a grenade is sent in your direction. Steve holds up his shield, intending to deflect the explosion, but he ends up triggering it instead. The blast sends him ricocheting off of a car behind him, and over the side of the overpass.

You jump to your feet while you can, ignoring the piercing pain in your ankle as you try to run to hide behind the van. Sam is right beside you, you can feel his hand on your lower back, but then it’s gone, as he goes to hide behind the silver car a few feet back. 

Natasha glances at you, gun in her hand. “Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

“Not really.” You tell her.

She pops up, shooting back at the HYDRA agents that are slowly advancing in your direction. You look back at Sam, and watch as he makes a run for it down the freeway. You suck in a breath, springing up to hurl yourself over the side of the barrier. A car whizzes by, and Natasha lands next to you.

You swear the whole bridge shakes when another grenade explodes. 

She grabs your hand, passing one of her guns over. “I’ll distract him, you shoot when you get the chance.”

“Just to be clear, this is the Winter Soldier, right?” You ask.

Natasha makes a grave face, nodding. When there’s a break in the gunfire, she crosses three lanes of traffic, rolls over a car, only to be thrown off the side of the bridge when he launches a bomb.

A car comes to a screeching halt a foot or so away from you, inadvertently shielding you from the enemy. You turn to the left, climbing on your hands and knees while you try to get a better spot to shoot. It’s eerily quiet for several seconds, you slowly creep up to look over the wall, finding him aiming below the bridge.

When you’re sure that the HYDRA agents aren’t watching, you stand up, popping the safety off. You hold up the gun, aiming for the back of the Winter Soldier’s head. And right as you go to pull the trigger, a shot is fired, his head whipping to the side. When he turns to drop down, you can see that Natasha got him in the goggles.

He pulls them off, fist tightening around the black material. Then, he gets back up, spraying bullets at Natasha in response, pissed. They get into a brief gunfight, where you wait for the better opportunity to shoot.

As soon as the other HYDRA agents get to their feet, you fire. They’re solid shots on all three of them. So solid and precise, that they’re dead as soon as the bullets hit their bodies. You let out a breathy laugh, surprised that you still have that in you, but the celebration is gone when the Winter Soldier begins to turn.

You hit the cement, but you must be the least of his worries, because he doesn’t come after you. When you’re sure of this, you get back to your feet and over the barrier to retrieve one of the HYDRA guns from the bodies. You find a hook embedded into the hood of a car, attached to a thick black wire that hangs over the side of the overpass.

First, you check to make sure that there’s not an agent attached at the bottom. Then, you attach the gun to your body with the strap to keep it on you. After you’ve pulled your jacket sleeves over your hands, you slide down the wire, joining Steve, Natasha and the Winter Soldier below.

Except, there is no one.

You stand in the middle of the street, eyes sweeping the area, but all you’re coming up with are civilians running away. You head toward the anger to start, keeping a sharp eye out for any of the HYDRA agents that might be lurking around nearby. 

There’s a distant sound of gunfire, followed by an explosion. You pick up the pace, jogging down three blocks before you’re met with a busy intersection. You hoist the gun up, one eye peering through the scope before you pull the trigger.

The Winter Soldier moves, making you miss by barely an inch. Steve runs at him to keep him from shooting back at you, swinging the shield up in time to block his punch, causing the metal to sound like a gong. Steve gets kicked off of the car, landing on the road, where he covers himself with the shield. 

The enemy rolls off the car, pulling out a machine gun to shoot at Steve. When the bullets run out, Steve swings himself over the top of the car, foot knocking the gun out of his hand. You reload the rifle, waiting for the right moment to shoot, while they engage in hand-to-hand combat. 

He shoots, they go back and forth with the punches, and block. The gun is put away, Steve is twisted out of the shield, now in the Winter Soldier’s grasp. It’s placed between them to keep a distance, but eventually yanked from Steve’s rip as the HYDRA assassin uses it to his advantage.

When there’s a pause, you go to pull the trigger, until the shield comes flying in your direction.

You jerk to the side, watching as the shield lodges into the back door of a white van behind you. With wide eyes, you look back at Steve, only to find him fighting once more. You reach, yanking the shield free, and also retrieving your gun as you move closer.

Steve seems to have a knife now. He tries to take multiple stabs, but ultimately it’s taken from him, and he ends up dodging once more. The Winter Soldier makes the mistake of swinging over Steve twice, allowing him to counter with a hook and a kick. The soldier slams back into a car, Steve runs at him, slamming him into it further, causing the door to dent and the glass to break.

He goes in for a punch once again, but the Winter Soldier blocks it, backing Steve away as he tries to fight back. Steve flips him over, standing over him for just a second, before the Winter Soldier grabs Steve’s neck, squeezing.

You let the gun hang against your chest, fixing the shield in your hand. You swing back, and then launch it forward. Steve’s eyes dart to it, ticking off the Winter Soldier, so he throws Steve over the hood of a car, turning just in time to grab the shield before it hits him. By then, you’re firing bullets, watching as they bounce off of the metal.

The gun jams.

“Shit.” You pull it off of you, hurling it in his direction. He catches it in his metal hand, clenching his fist around the material, breaking it.

He turns his attention back to Steve, who’s on the other side of the car. They go back to fighting, you continue to advance, a little annoyed that he doesn’t see you as a threat enough. He pulls out a knife, going to stab Steve, but the metal pieces a grey van, slicing the paint vertically.

Steve grabs the Winter Soldier, throwing him back to get him off, and swiping the shield in the process. The enemy swings, hits metal. He swings again with the knife, hitting metal. The Winter Soldier punches Steve successfully, trying to kick but he’s met with the shield, so he swings again.

Steve slams the shield into the metal arm of the Winter Soldier, and then forces it up, hitting him in the face. Steve wraps his hand around the mask, flipping him over backward, but it's too much momentum, because the Winter Soldier somersaults.

You walk around the truck, going to join Steve, finding the black mask lying on the asphalt. The Winter Soldier rises, back to you at first, until he slowly turns his head, allowing you to see what he looks like.

The blood runs from your face, lips parting as your eyes lock on. 

Bucky.

He looks… different, but not in the bad sense. His dark hair is messily long, just barely reaching his shoulders. When in the past he’s kept it shorter, cleaner. There’s a shadow of a beard forming on the lower half of his face. And there’s this emotionless void in his eyes, as if he’s looking right through you.

This can’t be him, though. The last time you saw him… 

Steve stands up, panting through his teeth. “Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He asks, turning toward the two of you fully. 

He pulls up his gun to shoot at either of you, but Sam kicks him over, sending him tumbling over the asphalt. That small move does basically nothing, as Bucky gets back to his feet, you take a step toward him, even when he goes to shoot again, but you’re interrupted by a grenade flying over Steve’s shoulder.

A red truck explodes. You look behind you to see Natasha, barely holding herself up against a car with the grenade launcher. Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

There’s sirens approaching, presumably the police, a firetruck, a couple of ambulances, but all you see are black SUV’s approaching. Your eyes catch a figure disappearing into an alleyway.

“I’m going after him.” You dig into your pants pocket, pulling out the singular smoke bomb that you’d brought with you.

Before Steve can stop you, you pull out the pin, tossing the bomb in the middle of the intersection. In the matter of seconds, the grey haze is taking over the street, concealing your escape. Either Steve is too shocked or knows better than to go after you, because he stays there with your other two friends, letting you run off.

Your ankle is slowing you down, but that doesn’t make you stop. You chase Bucky down several streets until he jumps out from behind a car, fist swinging at your face. You catch it, fingers wrapping around his hand, eyes boring into his.

The two of you stand like this for a very long second. If he knows who you are, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it, because you’re none the wiser. If you had to guess what happened to him, you’d say Zola experimented on him. And you think that Steve would even agree with you.

He tries to punch you with his metal arm, but you block it with your forearm, holding him there for a second longer. You can’t do this, not here. He’s not stable enough to have a conversation, especially since he was trying to kill you. He is trying to kill you.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” You tell him, despite knowing that this means nothing to him. “I’m not letting you go so easily, Bucky.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[lilocapoca]

pairing: rockstar!Eddie Munson x fem!popstar reader

content warning(s): none

word count: 423

summary: the guitarist of the world famous rock band Corroded Coffin reveals his celebrity crush

notes: hiii this is my first Eddie fic and actully my first time writing something like this in english. Sorry if there is any sort of error. My english is a little rusty :). Idk if anyone will read but if so… I hope you like it!!!

Part 2 here

☼ ☼ ☼

When Eddie Munson did the new interview to the Rolling Stone Magazine and answered that question he didn’t ever thought that it would make it up to you. Never in his fucking dreams.

The question was simple. The interviewer wanted to know if he had a celebrity crush.

Simple! Right?

And he thought, smiling when your name slipped from his lips that nothing could ever happen. Oh boy… he was wrong.

That part of the article was really getting a lot of attention.

““I mean, we all saw her last perfomance at the vmas. And i’ll be lying if i said that i wasn’t enchanted by her” the front man of Corroded Coffin revealed smiling. “I feel like I belonged her. I can say that in my mind I am definitely her husband” and gave a charismatic laugh.”

But now, the only thing he could see was your pretty face on the small tv at the dressing room he was. A late talk show was on and you were being interviewed about your new album before the change of subject.

“So… darling. It seems like you are married now” the host joked, making you laugh gracefully and nod “what do you have to say about the Rockstar Eddie Munson telling Rolling Stone that you are his crush? What was your reaction? ”

Your smile was so pretty and sincere when you open up your mouth to answer.

“Hm, i'm flattered to be honest. I was actually a little shocked to know this. I mean who could ever imagine” and then you gave a charming little laugh “but i’m truly so flattered with his feelings about me. In fact, I can say that I have a crush on him myself” and the show crowd cheered with your confession “but it’s a secret” and the crowd laughed again when you said it.

“So have you actually met him? Please tell us all the details”

“Sadly not yet” you tell with a pout on your lips “but if he is truly my husband i’m counting that is not gonna take long to happen” screams and whistles could be heard from all the people in the studio you were at”

Eddie was speechless. He wasn't expecting it. His brain was not working anymore after this. He really was not expecting you telling everyone in the most watched talk show of the country that you had a crush on him too.

Shit. He felt the urgent need to ask you out. He felt the urgent need to have you.

[neteyamssyulang]

☼ Heartbreak & Hope ☼

☼ Chapter I ☼ ☼ Next chapter ➛

☼ Pairing: Okul x Fem sarentu reader ☼

☼ Summary: Your mother watches the children while you take your mate to a special spot you found for your date.

☼ Warnings: Mostly fluff, mentions of sibling hate?, I think that is all for this chapter

☼ Word count: 1907 ☼

☼ Translations -> fkio -flamingo like creature, kelku -> na’vi home, Oe rä'ä na nga -> I do not like you, yawntu -> loved one, Tam tam, ayfo lu txäna ‘evengxi -> Ok ok, they are our children, ma’ite -> my daughter, sa’nu -> mom, hì'i tsmukan -> little brother, sa’nok -> mother, yawne -> beloved, kinärung -> sentinel fan.

☼ Tagging: @daydreamer246 @teyamshuman @itchaboi-itchyboy @ikeyniofthetayrangi @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction

The quiet wind murmured through the leaves, a soft accompaniment to the chorus of singing fkio. You were snuggled up against your mates chest when your tail was suddenly yanked.

Your eyes immediately snapped open and you sat up looking around. Soft giggles pricked at your ears from outside the kelku, sighing you layed back down on your mates chest,"Your children are up" you mumbled.

Okul stirred slightly before chucking "My children? So when they are bad their mine but when their good they're yours?" They asked groggily, opening their eyes finally.

"Yes" you nodded, burying your face into the crook of Okul's neck while your tail swayed behind you.

Your mate only hummed as one of their hands went to your back rubbing soothing circles along it, while the other reached for your tail, tugging on it making you squeal.

"Oe rä'ä na nga" you mumbled, moving to get off them. Okul raised a hairless eyebrow before flipping you both over, pinning you beneath them. "Is that so yawntu?" They asked, tilting their head.

Huffing you turned your head, refusing to look or speak to your mate. Pouting, Okul leaned down peppering soft kisses along your chest, neck, then up to your face making you giggle "Tam tam, ayfo lu txäna 'evengxi!"

Okul stopped and leaned up just enough to look down at you "And?", your hairless brows furrowed confused "And what?"

"You said you do not like me" they spoke, putting on a fake pout again. You chuckled before answering "Because I do not like you, I love you ma'kul."

Okul smiled, leaning down capturing your lips with theirs in a soft kiss. Unfortunately it was also when your children came back into the tent,"Ewwe!" Haven gagged, shielding her little brothers eyes.

Your mate pulled away from the kiss then stood up, turning towards your children "It is not ew ma'ite" they spoke softly. "Come come, your sa'nu and I need to get you and your hì'i tsmukan ready for your grandmother."

Haven and Makeyo lit up at the mention of their grandmother, they always loved when she visited. Your mother always brought the best stories and gifts from her traveling, ever since you and her reunited it has been wonderful.

Aha'ri also travels with the clan, not wanting to be away from your mother again. Although, you and her rarely see eachother as she hates that you work with humans. On occasion she will visit but only to see her niece and nephew, not even sparing you a glance.

Your mother has tried to get Aha'ri to speak to you again with little luck, at first you wished your sister would talk to you, wished she would tell you all her adventures of being with the Sarentu and traveling to all these different clans.

Too lost in your own thoughts, you didn't notice Makeyo's chubby hands tugging at your woven top wanting attention. Of course you sat up, taking your son into your arms who immediately snuggled into your bossom yawning.

Your gaze drifted from your son, to your mate and daughter on the other side of the kelku. Okul was fixing up Havens hair, redoing the small bun on the back of her head.

"How long will grandma be staying pom pom?" Haven asked, Okul looked at you for a moment before returning their attention to Haven "She will be staying for a week possibly, right yawne?"

You shook your head "No, grandma will be staying for a month since the annual sarentu moot is taking place in 3 weeks."

Haven's head tilted a bit "What is that sa'nu?", you smiled "I have only heard stories but, the sarentu moot takes place in the circle of songs little ways away from here. There is music, people dance around great fires, the rocks are adorned with colorful rock murals and there's great feasts."

A frown took place on Okul's lips when they saw a single tear fall down your face. Finished with Haven's hair, they moved towards you, opting to sit behind you and pulled you back into their arms gently.

Your daughter looked confused, slowly she made her way towards you, sitting on your lap "What is wrong sa'nu?"

Before you could speak, your mouther burst into the kelku squealing "Where are my darling grandchildren and daughter!" Haven immediately got up from your lap, and ran over to your mother hugging her leg "Grandma!"

Kataru beamed looking down at her granddaughter, she then made her way to you with Haven following behind her and sat down infront of you. She reached over and gently caressed Makeyo's face before pulling away,"Is everything ready ma'Ite?" she asked.

"Yes Sa'nok, everything is ready for you" you spoke softly. Kataru nodded "I am sorry your sister could not come this time, but she'll be at the annual moot if you would like to join this year."

It was tempting but you knew Aha'ri still wouldn't speak to you. She feels betrayed, ever since Mercer shot her she's been wary of humans, especially after Alma's betrayal. Aha'ri also gave up english, only speaking full na'vi whereas you switch between the two.

You shook your head, denying the offer "Sorry Sa'nok, but you can bring Haven and Makeyo to it if you like. It would be good for them to learn more about their Sarentu heritage."

Kataru sighed "I understood ma'ite, and I would be happy for them to come with me."

A few hours pass, You and Okul pack up your ikran for the date you planned out and made sure your mother and children were situated before leaving.

The journey to the spot takes about maybe 3 hours to reach and you weren't even 10 minutes in when Okul spoke "Yawne, you know I love going on flights with you but must we fly to this spot you mentioned? I think maybe a direhorse would be better."

You shook your head laughing "Ma'kul, for this specific spot you need an ikran to reach it. You will be fine."

Two hours into the flight now and you can almost see the spot in the distance. It had become your favorite since it's too high for predators and there's always sweet honey up there. Only problem is that it does get a bit foggy to where it's hard to see, but nevertheless it's remained your favorite spot.

Okul had long passed out behind you, their arms wrapped tightly around your waist to ensure they wouldn't fall off. Perhaps one day your own children would bond with an ikran, they would be the first kame'tire to ever do so.

Finally you both made it ontop Toruk Peak, your ikran Lina screeched as she landed ontop it, waking Okul up in the process.

"Oh? We are here?"They asked, releasing their hold on you while looking around,"Yes yawntu, we are here" you spoke, hopping off Lina and gently breaking tsaheylu with her. The area so far was free of the fog, it was most beautiful indeed.

Ikrans screeched overhead, Lina turned her head to look at you. A silent plea for her to go and play with the other ikrans, not wanting her to be miserable, you helped Okul off her back then unhooked the baskets full of food off her saddle "Go ahead Lina" you patted her neck gently.

Lina took off, flying overhead to join the other ikrans while you led Okul to the beautiful spot you found.

It was a small clearing, a bit close to a tarsu plant. Okul's mouth dropped upon seeing it,"It is incredible yawne, you always manage to find the best spots for our dates."

You giggled before setting the baskets down and helping to lay out the large woven blanket, Okul then picked up the baskets and placed them on the blanket before sitting down beside you.

"What did you make for us this time my love?" You asked, watching as Okul began taking pieces of food, wrapped up in kinärung leaves along with two bowls.

"We have cheesy meat skewers, glazed seeds, chopped fish egg fry, herb roast, and a colorful cake. For drinks I made your favorites, soft herbal tea and fruity tea." They spoke, unwrapping each food in the process along with taking the drinks out.

You were shocked to say the least, when you had asked your mate to prepare the food to take on your date you never expected them to pack so much, much less your favorite."Ma'kul I do not think we can eat all of this"

Okul tilted their head slightly "We do not have to, whatever is left over we can bring back for the children to have."

Nodding in agreement you both started eating, you chose the herb roast while Okul went for the glazed seeds. It was peaceful to say the least, just being up there with your mate, feeling the cool breeze on your skin, the ikrans calling overhead.

"Are you sure you will not join your mother and the children for the moot?" Okul asked, breaking the silence. Sighing you looked down,"Aha'ri will not want me to be there, you know she hates that I work alongside the tawtutes."

Putting down the seeds, Okul reached over and gently pulled you into their lap "It does not matter what your sister wants yawne, it is what you want. And I know you want to go."

Your gaze lifted to meet your mates "Even if I wish to go it would not be the same. It is better if I stay here with you and let mother take the children instead."

Okul went to say something but stopped, they knew not to press on with the matter or else one of two things would happen. One, an argument would break out resulting in you giving them the silent treatment for the rest of the day. And two, you'd keep your distance from Okul, especially at night which means no cuddles.

Instead, they just coiled their tail around your thigh for comfort and took the leaf filled with meat out of your hands, starting to feed you themself.

You graciously accepted each piece of meat, careful to not bite your mates fingers off. Once you were finished, they put the leaf to the side and repositioned you so that now you sat between their legs with your back to their chest.

Soft kisses were peppered along your neck as a way of saying they were still sorry for bringing the topic up, Okul reached over grabbing the herbal tea before bringing it your lips "Drink yawne."

Not wanting to fight, you opened your mouth, drinking the warm earthy flavor tea. It had been one of your favorites ever since you mated with Okul.

Deeming you had enough, Okul moved the drink away, placing it back on the blanket. Still a bit hungry, Okul reached for the cheesy meat skewers, careful to not poke you with it while your head layed back against their chest.

The sun had begun to set by the time you and Okul had packed everything up, hooking the baskets on Linas saddle once more."You sure that's everything?" You asked, making tsaheylu with Lina while hoping onto her back.

"Yes yawne, everything is packed up" Okul replied, seating themselves behind you again. With your signal, Lina took off, flying back towards the hallows.

[edbluemel]

𖤓˚𓅆𓇢𓆸 navigation ⋆.˚𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋⋆☾

☼𓋼𓍊 𓆏𖧧 hi I'm caitlyn! ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ -ོ 𓅰

☆ tracking: #usercaitlyns

☆ links:

my blogs

my creations

navigation

series by episode/character/etc

blogroll

tagged in

media tracker (still working on this)

☆ castlegc:

my most absolute beloveds who changed my life forever and mean the entire world to me (genuinely can't thank you all enough for being the best people in my life ILYILYILY !!!):

♡ @charliexspring ♡ @ellaxlopez ♡ @elliewlliams ♡ @gaygentdanvrs ♡ @jemmaasimmons ♡ @laffertys ♡ @laurenxgerman ♡ @leojfitz ♡ @mauraeyk ♡ @mazykeen ♡ @richcrdcastle ♡ @salvatoreselena ♡ @trixiedeckerstar ♡ @twelverriver ♡ @useragarfield ♡ @useryoumna ♡ @violet-bridgerton ♡ @youkilledpetunia ♡

☆ mutuals: also here

If we’re moots, ILY (even if we’ve never talked!!) p.s please don’t be scared to message me whenever, I don’t bite. We can be awkward together akdjfjjd!!! I wanna hear about the things you love or whatever you wanna scream/fan girl about or how your day’s going or literally anything you want to tell me!! I care and I want to listen !! ♡ anyways thanks so much for following me and I’m glad we somehow found each other on this hellsite! Muah!! Sending a big hug your way besties!!!

@28goldens @amalgamads-aneacc @ashleyyroses @bestofcastle @biathecreature @chippythedog @calia-lynn @charliexspring @daomaikeng @delphines @dreamersdivingheadfirst @dxnny-art @esmealux @elliewlliams @evenasyoungastheyare @greenforestworshipper @ghost-roads @haroldsmoon @huggieshalo @holyshit @horancover @harrysmaison @handgf @harrysputa @icarusinterlude @justthinkingaboutlouis @lululawrence @lebesyej @laurenxgerman @lassos-welton @leojfitz @laffertys @laurens-german @lavenderberries @larriescompass @lucy-mclean @mauraeyk @mayasbishop @morningstaraurora @mazykeen @moon-sun-thyme @niallonlyknows @pearlblue2 @pocketsized-healer @pop-punklouis @sason-judeikis @suesheroll @salvatoreselena @stedelasso @sneaky-salty-bitch @stayprettyandsmile @starrynightniall @sunshineysprinkles @sharpesjoy @softcherubhips @seeleybooth @sunmoonandrainbows @sthabit @sunsmile-lou @tomlinshires @thelarrielouie @trixiedeckerstar @toherlover @useryoumna @useragarfield @violet-bridgerton @welllbeafineline @wecantalktomorrow @wendersfive @youkilledpetunia @zourried

*if you're on this list and confused why I tagged you it's bc you follow one of my sideblogs lmao

☆ about me:

pronouns: she/her

animal & nature lover, directioner since 2011 (ot5), biologist and photographer by day - fangirl blogger at all other times, scorpio

music: love pop, rock, lofi, really just anything tbh, I'm literally always listening to music ALWAYS

shows: castle, lucifer, obx, ted lasso, young royals, virgin river, sex education, psych, adow, heartstopper, bridgerton, & sooo many more

movies: the little mermaid, anyone but you, pride & prejudice, sleeping with other people, la la land, the greatest showman, shazam, narnia, barbie & a ton more

watch list/to read list: NEVER ENDING (but listen...I am always open to suggestions...honestly please send me reccs I would absolutely love to hear what you guys have to say/what you're currently into)

drafts/queue: also never ending (the struggle is soooo real being in so many fandoms afsjjgk)

I’d love to make more friends on here, please say hi! I'd love to talk & make new friends (although I suck at replying quickly akjdfl but I def still wanna chat w you)

[mooodyblue]

Lillyyyyy I just had an Idea, so what if when Elvis is filming his 68 comeback special he has to take the reader who is little with him and the colonel doesn’t like one bit of it so when Elvis is filming some back Tom Parker goes to his dressing room to pick on the reader and he says hurtful things to her like “you’re nothing but a gold digger” and other mean things to where she goes nonverbal and when Ep comes back into his dressing room he just sees the colonel picking with her hair ripping her drawing up and knocking everything she had over he even witnessed what the colonel told her. Ep barges in and starts yelling at the colonel and tells him to stay away from us but the colonel rolls his eyes and puts up an argument saying things like “she is distracting you! Can’t you see that, putting up this act. She’s acting like a full on baby.” You can finish the rest ❤️

ty for the request! this was super fun to write. i love writing anything that involves making the colonel out to be the most annoying man to ever exist 😈

pairing: 60s!elvis x little!gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

-> masterlist

you watched as elvis adjusted himself in his dressing room, dressed in black leather with his hair done up nicely. you knew how important this day was for him. he was beaming with nervousness and excitement and of course, you were as well. maybe too excited as you had gone down right before it was time to leave for nbc studios.

he didn’t mind if you were little, it didn’t bother him at all. you always understood that elvis has a job to do and that he can’t play with you every single second of the day—especially today of all days. 

but again, you were so excited for him. you loved watching him get dressed in all the different outfits, performing his heart out just like he should have been doing all these years. today he’d be filming in front of an audience which you knew he was horrified about, thankfully the cuteness he had to endure from a little you helped ease his mind off his stress and anxieties. 

he buttoned up his jacket, giving you a soft smile as he watched you doodle in a little notebook with your crayons, a messy bow in your hair from his attempt at doing your hair earlier that morning. elvis crouched down at the table, looking down at the notebook. “you're so talented, honey.” he grinned. “you gonna draw somethin’ for me for when i get out? a nice lil’ reward for daddy's hard work?” he teased, pinching your cheek as you let out a soft squeal. 

you nodded excitedly, “mhm!” you grinned. “‘m gonna draw daddy!” 

he let out a gasp, “really!” he placed a kiss onto your scalp, ruffling your hair a bit before standing up. “you make me look real good, baby. alright? i wanna see it when i finish up here.” 

“okay, daddy!” you nodded, “good luck!” 

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you kept to yourself, music booming from outside his dressing room. you hummed and rocked to his voice as you continued to draw, making sure your drawing of elvis was as perfect as he hoped for. 

the faint sound of a door opening and closing filled your ears, followed up with the tapping of a cane. you lifted your head, looking at the larger and older man in front of you. 

now, you were well aware of how his manager strongly disapproved of you. but elvis never cared, it was his personal life–not the colonel's. he did make you nervous though, he didn't understand you being an age regressor. he didnt understand why you felt the need to act like a toddler, being helpless at your big age. 

you gulped looking up at him, watching how he hovered over you and looked at the array of crayons, markers and at the little gear you had around you. elvis brought along your sippy cup and a paci, as well as a few coloring books and toys to keep you entertained until he finished up with filming for the day.

“look at all this junk, this garbage.” the colonel spat, pointing at the table with his cane. 

you sat there silently, trying to keep your mouth shut just like elvis told you. you held your head down, going back to your drawing. 

he wasn't having it, scoffing at you and shaking his head. “you're a grown person, wearing bows in your hair and coloring like a toddler.” he shook his head. “you're dating elvis presley and this is what you choose to do in your free time?” 

“he still loves me.” you muttered. 

his cane met with your drawing, creating a circular stain of dirt right in the middle of the paper. “you're nothin’ but a gold diggin’ freak who acts like a baby to get what they want. now i demand you get up from this floor and go out there and support the man you supposedly love.” he said sternly. 

you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. he ruined your pretty drawing for elvis. if he wanted you out in the audience so badly, he would have asked. but he didn't, you were staying out of his way just as he wished. you certainly weren't a gold digger either. you didn't ask elvis to buy you nice things, it's just what he did. he didn't know what no meant, he did it out of the kindness of his heart and his love for you. 

words were formed in your brain to spit back at the old man in front of you, but nothing could come out. you had an ashamed look on your face, glancing down at the now-ruined drawing that sat on the table. 

“are you listening?” he asked, stomping his cane again. “get up!” 

you shook your head and stayed in your spot, refusing to get up for the colonel. but enough was enough for him, he ripped out the pretty bow that elvis had put in your hair just for you and stuck his cane under your arm, trying to force you up. that alone stood you up, cheeks now stained with tears as he picked up your drawing, ripping it in half in front of your very own eyes. 

outside the dressing room, there were loud cheers—the music finally coming to an end. maybe that meant elvis was coming back. 

foot steps were approaching, the sound of leather rubbing as he walked and laughter got closer and closer–finally coming to a halt once the door was opened. there stood elvis, turning his head to look at the scene in front of him. 

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his face turned red with anger. “now, what in the goddamn hell are you doin’?!” he shouted, storming in and pushing his manager away. “you putin’ your hands on my baby? or am i just imagining things, huh?” 

the colonel stumbled back, scoffing again and shaking his head. “this child of yours has been nothing but a distraction!” he argued. “they’re doing nothing for you except sitting back here playing with toys all while you do the hard work. can’t you see you’re being used?”

“the hell i am!” he yelled, “what i do with them and what they do in their own time ain’t nobodies business but mine and theirs. not you.” he pointed his finger angrily at parker, his eyes full of anger and fury. 

“mr. presley, i will not stand here and watch them put on such an embarassing act for you. they’re acting like a baby! can’t you see the problem here?” 

“oh, i can see a problem alright.” elvis spat, putting his hands on his hips. he turned his head to you, looking at the sad look on your face. his heart broke seeing what that awful manager of his did to you, your hair ruined and the drawing he was so excited to see now torn apart on the floor. he walked over to you, rubbing your back as the colonel stood there still disgusted by the look of you. 

“you alright, baby?” he cooed, trying to calm you down. “what did that mean man do to my baby, hm?” you didn’t respond, instead burying your face in his neck as you let out a soft whine. he could tell when you couldn’t speak. one of your ways of dealing with stressful situations, especially when they happen so sudden, was to become unable to speak. he never pressured you to say a single word if you didn’t want to.

however, it angered him that you were bullied to the point of going nonverbal. he wasn’t going to stand for that. the pretty little face he saw before heading on stage looked so broken, he wanted that version of you back. 

he stepped up to his manager, getting right in his face. “i ain’t afraid of you.” he said lowly. “you stay the hell away from them. if i see you lay even a finger on them, you’ll pay. i’ll make sure of it.” he took a deep breath, looking back at you then at him. “get the hell out of my dressin’ room.”

it was clear he wanted to argue more, but he left with a scowl on his face—making his way out of the dressing room and slamming the door behind him. 

elvis sighed, turning to look at you before pulling you in for a hug. you sobbed on his shoulder, holding him tightly and never wanting to let go. “i know, baby.” he rubbed at your back again, cooing softly in your ear. “i’m sorry, honey. i’m so sorry.” he pulled away, pressing his lips against your forehead with a soft smile. “lets see that lil’ picture you drew for me.”

your eyes darted to the ripped-up drawing on the floor, a pout on your face as he walked over to pick it up. “nah, we can save it!” 

he put the ripped-up pieces together in front of his face, grinning widely. “see! look at that. you’re so talented, baby!” it was just a mere drawing of a stick figure, a poor attempt at drawing a white suit on white paper on the said figure. but in his eyes, it was the best thing he had ever seen.