#i can't wait for tomorrow actually and the fact that my drafts have to wait until tomorrow

[alo-officialgf]

it's a personal choice to have three alo drafts and none of them written yet 🫨

[cannellee]

HUNTER X HUNTER OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ yandere! alpha! kurapika x omega! reader

— how does he take care of his omega ?

cw : yandere, controlling behaviour, red flags, etc.

I had this sitting in my drafts for a while now... so here it is! just like for naruto and the seven deadly sins, I'll accept requests about hxh (but my main focus will still be about tokyorev!)

MY MASTERLIST: ☆

kurapika is a kind and reassuring alpha. he wants his omega to feel the safest when she's with him, to appear as flawless as possible to make her feel sheltered and in good hands.

you don't doubt him at first, kurapika is always smiling brightly. his polite smiles soothes any worry you might have as if he had everything and everyone under control.

he might manipulate you into thinking you're imagining things if you ever get suspicious of him. he's cautious, very careful about what he does and what he says in front of you. nothing would shatter his world more than see his omega wary of him. that would mean that he failed his task at shielding you from anything unpleasant and his thoughts would torture him if it ever had to happen.

kurapika is overly worried about you, you're so frail and innocent, and he knows how mean and scary the world is, especially for sweet omegas like you... which is why he got his hunter licence. kurapika had to be better, to improve himself so much to the point that no harm could be done to you.

kurapika hates unnecessary violence. you often tell him that he's kind and benevolent and that's why you love him so much. he does feel guilty about how brutally he murders all those people who had bad intentions towards you, he's afraid you'll look at him differently if you were to learn about it, but it had to be done. he would never let anything scary come close to you, he's especially vigilant that he's aware how of horribly people are able to treat soft beings like you. he has witnessed it first hand and he dreads the thought of not being capable of protecting you well enough and seeing you hurt.

kurapika is very rigorous about which individual has the right to interact with you. he's always suspicious if you say you're going out with someone or if a random person talks to you on the streets. he fears them corrupting you so much, he'll glare at them, possessively shielding you away from their gaze by putting himself in front of you, eyes red in anger and chasing them away from how powerful his scent gets. the type of scent which makes you feel more vulnerable than usual because of how bad it affects you. those domineering pheromones of him weren't meant for you and he feels so bad you had to spend such an awful moment because of him.

kurapika will baby talk to you, assuring you you don't need to go out to actually be happy. his terror of losing you grows stronger each day and the simple fact of not having you in his vision field is enough to send him into a state you're the only one able to soothe by submitting and baring your nape to him. you wait for him to scent you, all docile, while you feel his respiration calm down.

kurapika monitors you. he started by advising you certain clothes before straight out telling you what to wear. he's the one cooking for you, he can't have his precious omega hurting herself in the dangerous kitchen. he makes sure to feed you healthy meals so you're always in good shape and keep a strong body. he's putting you to sleep at the same hour each day, sometimes forcibly so because of how stubborn you can be. kurapika knows better than a dumbly cute omega like you. you need all your hours of sleep end of story. if you're persistent, he'll either drug your hot beverage with sleeping pills or coax you into agreeing by promising you he'll take you out tomorrow if you comply right now.

kurapika knows how easy it is for him to make you obey and submit, you're his omega and he knows everything there's to know about you.

overall, kurapika is insanely worried and preoccupied about his omega. he wants both your and his world to be about your relationship only, others can get lost honestly. it's fine if you don't love him immediately, his main responsibility is to protect you, you'll eventually come to love that side of him, he's sure of it. for now, all he wants is to be needed and make sure you never experience anything traumatising just like he once did, and keep that sweet and pure mind of yours untouched.

[toomuchracket]

all i want for christmas (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

back from the dead (a depressive episode) with a fluffy pre-dating fic that's honestly longer than it needs to be. whatever. it's christmas. this fic is also part of christmas75/twelve days of christmas, organised and curated by my lovely friend @abiiors. hope you all enjoy <3

wednesday, 3:34am

as soon as the “email sent” pop-up appears, you feebly close your laptop and lay your head on the desk, ready to finally give in to the sleep that's been edging ever closer to your eyelids for the past hour. but before you get the chance, your phone buzzes with an incoming notification, the vibrations rattling through the wood of the desk and into your skull.

swearing, your voice scratchy with underuse, you open one eye and tilt the screen towards you - the name it bears above the unread text makes you shoot back up to a sitting position, and knocks all traces of grumpiness and tiredness from your brain and body.

matty.

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip! 

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock. 

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet. 

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply. 

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

“well, we'll soon find out, i'm sure.”

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Untitled Fantasy Wip Ch.2

What it says in the title, this is a rough draft for a piece I'm working on. I already know that there will be things changed in the final piece but I'm hoping putting a little of it into the world will be enough to motivate me to keep working.

Previous | Next

Chapter 2

Discord is actually up well before dawn. If the new high spirit is so dangerous he did not want to risk his name being known, and spent the early morning sealing it away behind wards of his own. A paranoid practice perhaps, but one does not become a Witch because they have a healthy relationship with boundaries or magic. He hides his name, charms his clothes against the cold, and then steps out of the house. He starts with the wards around the clearing. This is all tedious work, but not difficult work. It's a matter of feeling along the connection to the land and air that surrounds this section of the forest, how each of those little tendrils keeps the strangeness of the spirits and monsters inside and away from the thin trail that splits it in half. It's thirty miles of forest to tend to. Not insurmountable, a full day of travel to go to the farthest edge, but he will have to do it before the snow comes and makes it more difficult. He secures the eight wards around the house. Those are simple and he needs to have somewhere he is sure is safe before he starts to venture further out. Then he goes back inside. The house has been enchanted thoroughly by previous tenants, the kitchen spelled to always provide, the bath upstairs always full of hot clean water, the hearth never dies, the oil in the lanterns never runs out. 

He packs enough rations for the day as well as a generous portion of salt, figs, and two wrapped, raw pheasants. Hopes he won't need more than that today. Then he exits the house again and starts to make his way in the direction of the furthest wards from the house. It will be a full day, probably a little into tomorrow as well, but he will take a day of rest if he can make it all the way out and reinforce those wards well before the first snow. 

Discord has only been walking for an hour before he smells lilies again. He pauses this time, waiting. The nymph steps out from behind a tree with a wide grin. 

"Will you talk to me now?" 

"Are you going to say something interesting?" He counters lazily. She looks beside herself with her joy. Can't step onto the path he's following, but just like yesterday, gets as close as she can and moves parallel to it. 

"I'm Thylia, what's your name Scholar?" 

"I can't introduce myself to you before meeting the new High Spirit," he tells her. Based on the slight sharpening of her eyes, she's well aware of that fact. "I'm also not a Scholar." He adds absent-mindedly. 

"What are you then? You don't smell like a Druid." 

"Witch." 

"That's just a Scholar who doesn't like books." He hums, a simplistic explanation, but he's not going to start a debate on the arcane arts with a nymph. "Do you have offerings?" 

"I do." 

"Vigil was stingy on his way out, are you going to be more generous?" 

"Not until after I've met the High Spirit." 

She whines. "Ugh, if you want to see him so badly I can show you his cave, but he's not gonna like you." 

"He doesn't need to like me." But he actually pauses and gives her his full attention. Getting to the furthest wards is important, but establishing some kind of communication with the High Spirit is equally so. If only so he can know for absolutely certain how badly he will be screwed if he fails. "Alright, you can escort me safely to his lodgings and I will leave you something at your tree after my business with him is finished." 

She brightens considerably. "Deal!" Thylia takes a sharp turn and Discord takes a slow breath before he steps off of the path. The cutting above the hearth should keep him safe, but he can't shake the little thread of wariness as he leaves the relative safety of the reinforced wards along the paths. If he has time, if he finishes with all of the others before the snow comes too heavily or if it melts early enough in Spring before his contract has ended, he'll make a new set and path going to the High Spirit's dwelling. If only to make things a little easier for whoever ends up assigned this station after him. 

Thylia chatters as they walk. She points out other sections of the woods where dryads and other nymphs live, tells him that there were elder awakened trees who called a section of the forest home, but who have decided to settle into a long sleep with Caterel gone. There are other monsters too. Large beasts, wild animals, displaced spirits of travelers who never made it out of the woods despite the wards. Things he would expect from a place steeped in so much magic. 

It takes the better part of two hours for them to slowly break away from thick trees and underbrush to what appears to be a rock quarry that spills out into jagged stony hills. She can't go much further once his feet move from grass to dirt and rock and she lingers at the edge, "Follow the trail and you'll find the entrance." She tells him. 

The trail isn't a path as such. It is scattered belongings. A broken pocket watch here, a scrap of torn fabric there, he's already more than on edge by the time he starts to see the fragments of bone. It becomes more than fragments as he sees the looming entrance of the cave, each picked clean and discarded. He stops a few feet from the dark entrance and steels his nerves. This is not the first hostile spirit he has encountered. 

"High Spirit, I have come to seek an audience as the new Order Bringer of the Valchill Woods." There's a long pause and then a frigid wind comes from inside of the cave. He doesn't hear the creature move, but after a moment he emerges from the shadows. 

The spirit, he can immediately see, is likely some form of ascended ghoul. He is far too solid to simply be a ghost. His aspect is also apparent in each line of him. They stand at the same height but his skin is truly the pallor of death, tinged with blackened frost-bitten skin around his eyes, across his cracked lips, along his long fingers and creeping up his arms. His hair is long and wavy, hanging to his collarbone in messy layers, white as fresh snow. His build is more solid than his own, muscle corded along his arms, across his chest and stomach, exposed save for a tattered woolen cloak clasped around his neck in a deep indigo. Dark trousers over his lower half, feet bare and equally frost-bitten. His irises shine silver as they roll over him, taking him in as much as he is doing for the other. The spirit is ethereal, beautiful as all spirits are, but there is something monstrous in the damaged frost-bitten skin that speaks of what he was before he became this. 

"Your audience has been granted, Order Bringer." He speaks and the air goes colder, speaks and Discord can see two rows of sharp white teeth behind his frost-bitten lips. His voice is flat and uninterested. 

He bows slightly. "Thank you. I have brought you several offerings--" he starts to reach for his bag, for the pheasants and figs. 

The spirit sneers at him, all sharp fangs on display. "I do not accept." 

He blinks, pausing and turning his attention fully back to the spirit. "I don't understand." 

The spirit's eyes drag over him assessingly. "I do not accept offerings." 

"What do you mean? You have to--" 

"No, I don't." He waits but Discord fails to find his words. "I am the Grasp of the Frozen Death, High Spirit of the Valchill Woods, and I accept no offerings from you nor any other Order Bringer who pollutes my domain." 

"If you don't accept then I can't make offerings to any other spirits within the woods." 

Grasp of the Frozen Death smiles, a slow, cruel thing that looks painful on his cracked lips. "I am well aware of that, Witch." 

Discord's temper spikes. "How long has it been since you ascended? You can't refuse offerings. If you don't accept then the lesser creatures bound to the land will starve--" 

"Yes." 

He is nearly gaping at the creature. "You are the High Spirit of the woods! It's your responsibility to care for the others bound to serve you." 

Discord realizes his misstep a split second too late as he's suddenly standing nearly nose-to-nose with the spirit. Didn't even see him move he did it so fast, and the air around him is so frigid that his breath escapes him in a cloud of white. So cold that the heating charms on his clothes feel like they're shuddering from the force of the raw elemental magic coming off of him. "I am the High Spirit and I will care for my charges in the way I see fit. Famine is a hardship that they will endure at my command. You will not change this, Order Bringer." He hisses the title like a slur. His breath smells like blood and snow. Silver eyes drag over him again. "I cannot kill you while you are bound here, but make no mistake, Witch, I can certainly make you suffer should you forget your place." 

He sneers back at the spirit, grabs a handful of salt and throws it into the scant inches between them. It hits the spirit's flesh and immediately begins to hiss and sizzle with fresh burns. Grasp glances at the burns, takes a step back and brushes the salt away from his skin like it's nothing. It practically is nothing to a spirit as powerful as him, but it made his point very clearly. He may not be able to use his magic against him for as long as he's bound here as Order Bringer, but he is just as capable of causing other slights and harm as the spirit is threatening. 

"I leave this offering," he snarls, taking the pheasants and three figs from his bag and placing them on a stone large enough to act as a table. "As the new Order Bringer of the woods. May we keep balance between the world of man and world of spirits." 

Grasp considers the offering, considers him. And then he takes another step closer, reaches for one of the pheasants. His movements are slow and deliberate as he wraps four fingers around its breast, his index finger held deliberately aloft. And then that finger drops too. The reaction is instantaneous, frostbite seeps out across the bird, turns the meat and flesh as black as the skin across his hands, freezes it so solid that Discord hears it crack with the cold. And then the High Spirit tightens his grip and the frozen body shatters into a million little shards of desecrated meat. "I do not accept this offering, as High Spirit of the woods. May you find no balance or respite in the world of spirits or man." If he wasn't bound, Discord is fairly certain he would have been cursed. 

"If you don't eat, the forest will die." The Valchill Woods are old, centuries old, teeming with raw, natural magic only found in a handful of other regions across the continent. The death of this forest would devastate the natural order. 

"I will eat." The spirit says, deadly hand wrapping around each of the other offered items and destroying them with the same easy touch. "But I will not be fed, Witch." He turns and starts to move back into his cave. "What false title am I to call you?" 

He grits his teeth. "Discord." 

"Aptly chosen for what you will bring to this land." And then he's lost in the dark shadows of the cave and he is left, fuming and confused outside of it. Doesn't dare call the other creature back. 

///

He follows along the path back to the edge of the woods where Thylia is still waiting, but she's laying facedown over a shrub now. 

"He didn't accept it." 

"How long has he been starving you?" Her, the other pixies, dryads, nymphs, and awakened greenery. 

"Since Caterel died, two moons now." 

Full moons, he imagines, two months of this. Two months. He's shocked she even has the energy to leave her tree at this point. "Why is he starving himself?" 

"I don't know, he's never been chatty." She sits up, pouting. He reaches into his pack and gives her a fig. It won't fill her stomach, not while the High Spirit is abstaining from food, but it will taste good and he made a promise. "Thanks," but her voice isn't as bright as it was before. Knows as well as he does that this isn't going to make her feel any better. "Vigil thought he was grieving, let it go on a whole cycle before he sent for you, but Grasp didn't even like Caterel." 

He rakes a hand through his hair, looking back out at the quarry. He's never met a High Spirit that would choose to starve their subjects. "I need to reinforce the wards throughout the forest." He tells her, "but I will make a point of bringing new offerings every day. I can't force him to eat, though." She grumbles something in a language he can't understand, but she doesn't really protest that. There's nothing she can do about it either. She is bound to the will of the High Spirit. Unless, "Why has no one challenged him?" 

Thylia winces. "No one wants to challenge him. We like Grasp." 

"He's been starving you for two months." 

"We like him." She insists stubbornly. "He has a reason. He's strong. We can endure until he chooses to share it." A disturbing level of loyalty really, but he's not in any position to try and convince her otherwise. He doubts she would even be able to challenge him in her current state. Doesn't know if a nymph could be a good match against something that was once a ghoul, let alone with a rot powerful enough to destroy anything he touches. 

He sighs, gives her a second fig and then starts back towards the path he was supposed to be taking. "You didn't introduce yourself!" She calls after him. 

"Discord," he tells her over his shoulder, but he keeps going. He still has a lot to do today, long distances to travel, and will need to be rested enough to make it back here again tomorrow with a fresh offering. He takes a breath. The wards are his primary responsibility. He needs to ensure safe travel through the woods. If the High Spirit wants to assist in that by killing his charges that is technically not his problem. He will still be paid one way or the other. But there is something deeply uncomfortable about the idea of the Valchill woods dying on his watch. 

As Discord continues on his way towards the furthest reach of the wards, he finds himself wracking his brain for any offerings that he thinks might be more tempting for a winter spirit.

///

He ends up getting back to the house barely two hours before dawn, kicks off his boots, barely manages to shuck his clothes, and get into his sleep stuff before he's face down on his bed and gone with the pull of sleep. 

Discord doesn't wake until well into the following afternoon and when he's finally up again he's immediately starting towards the kitchen. Raw pheasant and figs wasn't good enough so maybe something else, something warm, maybe? Winter spirits are always cold. Maybe something warm would be more tempting. He spends two hours making stew. It's been a long time since he's had a kitchen at his disposal, longer still since he was in a position to have access to any ingredient he could want with barely the whisper of the thought on the edge of his mind before the enchantments inside make it appear. So he certainly isn't begrudging the time it takes to make the pot. It fills his temporary abode with the smell of a home he hasn't known, hasn't even thought fondly of, in a decade. When it's finished he packs some for travel, charms the bowl and cover to the Sanguine Lake and back to make sure that it stays hot, and goes to get his boots and cloak back on. 

The sun is long set by the time he starts on his way back to the quarry. He doesn't pay it any mind, it's a matter of seconds and a negligible amount of magic to produce a globule of pale blue light to guide his way. He can hear other creatures moving through the trees, but none stray into his space as he goes. It's an hour walk to his destination and when he arrives he sets the bowl back on the stones and calls into the cave, 

"An offering for the High Spirit," before he turns to go. Would like to go back home and have his own meal before settling in for the night because tomorrow will be an early day again, another long one as he finishes the far wards on the other side of the woods. 

"I do not accept it." 

He startles slightly, glancing up. Grasp is on top of the jagged hills, makes his way down with a few practiced jumps that barely shift the air enough to make sound as he lands back on the path with him. Discord rolls his eyes. "Indulge me. You may change your mind." 

"I won't." 

"Is there a particular reason you're starving yourself or are you just being an asshole?" 

Grasp snorts a little which is a more merciful reaction than he'd really expected. "Would it matter either way? You've made your offering, you're not obligated to do anything else, Witch." 

"Would help me explain why the whole forest died unexpectedly when I leave this post." 

The spirit considers that with a slight tilt of his head. Discord tries to not shiver. He doesn't know if the spirit is chilling the air on purpose, but it's suddenly cold enough he's longing for his gloves and heavier cloak. "And how long will you be at this post?" 

"Through winter," he replies carefully. "I can recommend a Druid for the next Order Bringer if you would prefer that." 

"I don't care what magic you or any other Order Bringer practices, none of you are welcome within my woods." 

The little globe of blue light pulses and crackles slightly with his agitation. "An awakened forest has to have an Order Bringer, even if you starve the entire forest to death, a new one will come to watch over the corpse." 

Grasp clicks his tongue derisively, reaches for the bowl of soup and picks it up in a careful four fingered grip. "You cooked?" 

"Would be more than happy to bring you things like that," rather than the more traditional offerings of raw meats and fruit, "if you'll eat them." 

But Grasp is putting the bowl back in his hands. "You can bring me whatever you like, Witch. I won't accept any of it. Now shoo, I'm sure you have better things to do than bother me." The spirit steps out of his space and starts to move back towards his lair, the charms broke as soon as he laid hands on the offering, and the warmth is slowly being leeched out by the cold night air as Discord watches him disappear back into the shadows. 

He goes back home, ladles out a fresh portion of stew for himself, returns the cold bowl to the pot and places it into the pantry spelled to preserve all of its contents in a timeless bubble. It's been a long time since he's made this. It tastes exactly how he remembers it. Just the first few bites has his stomach heavy and warm. Can't fight off the rolling sickness of the nostalgia though and he only manages a few more bites before he has to stop. Doesn't know if he'll be able to eat any more of it. He finds the little shelf hanging near the spice rack, a collection of hand-bound books, messy uneven pages all written on different scraps of paper and in different handwritings, and starts to flip through. Recipes left behind by the other Order Bringers who lived here before. Food that he can make without being mired in memories. He still has at least three more days of the far wards to reach. He'll bring traditional offerings until he's finished, until he can dedicate more time to this kind. 

He finishes his meal, turns in. Five and a half weeks until the winter solstice. The first solstice since the forest took a new High Spirit. Grasp of the Frozen Death will become one with the land completely then. If he hasn't eaten by then the reaction could be immediate. The forest will already be weak and dormant from the cold, that connection solidifying could kill all of the younger spirits, will absolutely kill the smaller trees and plants. That surge will also be the moment where the wards will fully lock in on him too, will ensure that his influence is bound only within the bubble they create around the roads. If he is bound and determined to kill the woods then making sure the wards are solid is the most important thing he can do. 

It still takes him a long time before he manages to fall asleep. 

[lopez-richter-fangirl]

I want to preemptively apologise for the flood of asks you're going to receive this weekend. I'm gonna try and keep myself busy so I'm not glued to my phone refreshing insta all day and night. I can't believe we've actually made it here after all these years shipping these two I'm defo gonna cry the minute I see any wedding pics XD

Haha you beat me to the post I had waiting in my drafts!!

A reminder with the wedding being TOMORROW that tumblr does have a post limit and I hit it two days in a row after the engagement announcement so while I don’t think I get quite as many asks now as I did then please don’t be offended if I don’t answer *every* single ask if things do start getting crazy and we’re all just yelling

But I will in fact be glued to my phone refreshing insta all day and night and crying so I’m excited to celebrate with everyone because yes after all those years of shipping we made it???? They made it but we made it???

[yaaay-propellerhat]

Day 5

Trump is furious. He's spent the entire day drafting up ideas on paper, then crumpling them up and throwing them away.

"People having fucking KEYS," he spits. Another paper sails into the basket. "How am I supposed to keep people out if they have KEYS? I'm literally, like, four feet tall. And he talked about my siblings so NOW I have no idea if he's going to be going after them por venganza, as payback..."

He looks at his bruise again. It's still mostly red, but it's starting to purple.

"And YOU'RE in here and I can't leave YOU alone and UGH..." he curls up and covers his eyes.

"See, the thing is, I'd ask Jeremy to watch you," he says. "But I promised. And I know he's part of the problem. I can't do that to you. But I can't ask him to watch my siblings, either. I just don't...I can't. It-"

He sighs.

"It's for me," he says. "The nightmares are better when I wake up in a pile with them. And if I have any dreams about them getting hurt, it'll help if they're right there. I want to sleep with my siblings tonight. So. I gotta figure this out."

He chews on the eraser of his pencil. After a moment, he arches his eyebrows.

"That might work."

-------------

Trump finds a large battery and some wires among Cucurucho's tools and starts fixing up a makeshift circuit.

"I can't get shocked, see?" Trump explains as he wraps bare wires around the terminals. "It just...goes into me. Feels kinda good actually. But humans can. Soooo..."

He hooks up the other ends of the wires to the doorknob.

"TA-DA! Now I'm the only one who can even TOUCH your door!"

He checks the mechanism a few times. Satisfied with his work, he crosses back to the desk and sits on the edge, facing Cucurucho.

"So..." he says. "I hung out with Jeremy earlier today. I don't know if you can hear me, but I think...I think he's actually nice. Just really really sad. He didn't mean to hurt you. It..."

He crosses his arms. "The thing about feelings and people is...sometimes people can hurt you without even meaning to. Like...my siblings. Sometimes I would start to talk about the shapes in flowers and they would tell me to shut up, or make fun of me. And they- they love me, I know they do. But it doesn't feel like it when they say stuff like that. It just hurts really really bad, and I don't know what to do with that. I get so mad sometimes. And so lonely, even when they're all around me. So I guess, just..."

He sighs.

"I read the file on what you asked them to do to you and- I guess- I just want you to know that sometimes I wish I couldn't feel either. It doesn't seem like either of us has a choice, though. But I don't actually want you to know that. Which is why I'm telling you while you're asleep."

Trump looks into Cucurucho's face, as if waiting for a response. The fact that none is coming is almost a relief this time.

"I'm still really mad at you," he says. "I don't want to be. That's a feeling I wish I didn't have. But I'm mad. You left me alone because- because you were sad and you couldn't handle it. And now I have humans grabbing me with their dirty hands and I have to choose between protecting you and cuddling my siblings and it's not fair."

He sighs, reaching out and cupping the Osito's cheek.

"But...I don't think it's your fault, either. It was your first time being that sad and...it's okay. In my chest I'm really really mad, but in my head I also know it's okay. That probably doesn't make sense. Whatever, though. You can't hear."

He stands up on the desk. "Anyway. I'm going to go to my siblings now. You'll be safe in here now. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turns the light off before leaving. Not that it matters, but it just feels right.

At the door, he turns around and hesitates.

He runs back, taking the blanket off of his bed and tucking it in around Cucurucho's shoulders. "I know. I know you don't need it. You just- looked cold," he says.

He kisses the Osito on the cheek before hurrying to the door, as if he's running from the scene of a crime.

"Goodnight."

[dragonsareourfuture]

Goodnight — Mello/ Bodyguard! GN! Reader (PT.2)

CW: just more fluff, oh but there’s mentions of extortion and stuff but that’s a given with Mello being in the mafia and all, gender neutral reader, established relationship/unlabeled relationship. I can’t remember if I proofread this or not but it’s been in my drafts for forever so I really cannot care anymore :)

Mello physically can’t wait until tomorrow to see you again.

Usually he’s actually quite patient, at least when dealing with business — things like timelines, meetings with other mafiosi, dealings and all that jazz. Because that’s a world Mello doesn’t mind distancing himself from. It’s something he needs in order to accomplish a goal. His pawns. He can be patient with his pawns. When the impatience flares up, it’s usually because of something he doesn’t want to be away from for too long. Something or someone, that is.

Mello curses himself for becoming so impatient with you. He curses the fact that he’s around you so much that he just gets used to it, transforming those small moments you’re separated into black holes where time gets sucked in never to be seen again.

Mello curses how his bed doesn’t feel nearly as warm as you do. The sheets are crunchy with lack of use and the only thing that makes it worse is knowing that your skin is softer by tenfold. He curses his pillows which, in contrast with his sheets, are entirely too soft. They just sag when he places his head down as if someone’s taken out half the stuffing. Mello can’t help but reminisce about how well your shoulder served as his pillow, the muscle firm yet squishy and of course the additional bonus of your scent invading his nose the moment he placed his head down.

The blonde blows an irritated breath, adjusting the pillow until he just can’t take it anymore. He sits up, any traces of exhaustion gone as he stomps out to the kitchen and flings open the cabinet in search of the one thing he can think of to take his mind off of you. He spots the unmarked box at the back of the bottom shelf and eagerly rips it open…only to find a single empty chocolate wrapper staring back at him.

Goddammit. Mello tosses the box to the floor, considering it useless now. Utter trash and disappointment.

Now he can't even distract himself. Instead he’ll have to force his body to cooperate in his attempts at sleep and go out to the store for some chocolate in the morning. Unless…

Unless he goes now? But oh no! There’s no way he can go on his own. He needs his big, strong bodyguard by his side to make sure nothing bad happens! That’s why you were hired, after all. Rod would be livid to know he went anywhere without you there by his side. What if his most valuable member got kidnapped, murdered, or even worse, solicited on the street? Which has happened before.

With a newfound mischief to replace his disappointment, Mello goes into his closet in search of the coat whose pocket he’d shoved your room key. It was only fair that if you had his, he would have yours. Like a promise ring, but with invasion of privacy.

Once the hotel room key is clasped between Mello’s rough yet manicured fingers, he makes his way out of his own place and into yours. The room is dark, signaling you’d gone to sleep already. Mello pats at the walls, waiting for his hand to strike the lightswitch which he finds successfully and flicks on. That way he’s able to find his way to your bedroom without tripping and scaring the living shit out of you. Instead Mello aims to wake you up in a less startling way, considering he had already made you think there was a crisis in your midst earlier (technically yesterday, seeing as it was now three in the AM) and he would rather not put you through too much stress in such a short span of time, no matter how amusing it is to watch you get all frazzled.

As soon as Mello opens the door and light floods into your room, you start to stir. He marvels at how catlike your sleeping patterns are — passed the hell out until something even miniscule happens around you. Your senses must always be sharp in your line of work, after all, and that seems to remain true while you’re unconscious. Mello hears you grunt lightly and sees your shadowed shape rise from the covers of your bed.

“Mello…?” Your voice is groggy, rough, and really cute when you speak. You’re supporting yourself on your arm as you look around the room, squinting at the harsh light shining in from the living room. Your eyes eventually catch Mello’s silhouetted figure in the doorway and you address him jokingly, like a mother talking down to her kid, “Aw, what’s wrong, bud? Can’t sleep?”

Mello rolls his eyes and steps into the room, heading straight for the lamp beside your bed and sparing you no mercy or time for your eyes to adjust before he flips it right on. You groan and cover your eyes. “Actually, no I couldn’t. But that’s only half the reason why I’m here.”

“Oh? What's the other half?” you rub your eyes free of sleep-crust before looking up.

“I ran out of chocolate,” he explains. “I need you to come with me to get some more.”

Your arms drop onto the bed sheets in disbelief. “That’s why I'm awake right now? Can’t you wait ‘til morning?”

“Do you want me to be a bitch in the morning because I don’t have my shit?”

“And that’s different from every other morning, how?” You don't have the time nor the energy to cover your face before a pillow comes barreling towards you. “Agh! You’re only proving my point, you know!”

“You’re taking me. Unless you want me to call Rod, your boss, and tell him that you don't feel like doing your job.”

“I’m sure he’s not awake right now either!” you fuss, throwing your torso back on the bed. You’ve got no intention of staying down however, as you know it is indeed your duty to protect your client no matter the situation or time of day. You just wish that with everything you do for him, he’d let you sleep. You sigh dramatically as your legs slide off the edge of the bed and your feet plant themselves on the ground. When you lug your top half up you get a view of the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. God fucking…The little bitch got you up at three in the fucking morning. “Your sleep schedule’s way too fucked, y’know that?”

“Mhmm, I’m completely aware,” Mello hums absentmindedly, too preoccupied in grabbing the black trench coat you’ve got hanging on the closet door. He throws it to you, saying, “You won’t have to change, just put this on.”

You catch the coat, which is weighed down by your keys and a handgun stuffed into the pockets. “Are you also going in your pajamas or are you setting me up to look like human trash?”

Mello shrugs. “I mean I was planning on changing, but if you’d rather I didn’t then I don’t have to.”

You ponder for a moment, your tired brain taking a few extra seconds to let the gears turn. “Yeah, I like that. Let’s go look like human trash together.”

So that’s just what you do. Both in your pajamas, you venture out of the hotel and into the parking lot. You fish your keys out of your trench coat’s pocket and click the button that causes the headlights to flare as the locks click open. You hop into the driver’s seat, or, more accurately, flop, while Mello makes himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat. It’s a chilly night, so the first thing you do once the engine has roared to life is turn the heat up to eleven. You hold your hands over the vent and rub them together, breathing out a quick, “okay!” once there are no longer goosebumps protruding from your skin. You take the car off it’s breaks and start to back out, asking “You getting enough heat?” To keep your mouth busy as you do so.

Mello hums in affirmation, adjusting the vents to direct more heat in his direction.

“Good.” You pull onto the street, brain almost on autopilot as you head in the direction of Mello’s chocolate supply. Before you were assigned as Mello’s bodyguard, you were the one who was always tasked with fetching him the sweet treats. Back then you always marveled at how one person could consume that much sugar and still be alive. Now, having seen him do it, you’re still in amazement. But seeing it is believing, as they say. You don’t usually leave your post to stock up on chocolate anymore, but the route must be hammered into your brain after so many trips. Because you’re focusing less on the directions, letting your institution practically pull you there, you want something to occupy your mind while it drifts with the silence filling the car.

You stick out your hand to mess with the radio, eyes occasionally leaving the road to see which channel you’ve landed on. You get five lousy channels in before your hand is being pushed out of the way.

“Don’t do that while you’re driving. I put my life in your hands, don’t make me regret that when you make us crash,” Mello mumbles, and although it’s quite a serious notion you can’t help but laugh when his actions fail to reflect the disdain in his tone. See, the hand that had shoved your own away has not yet retracted. Instead it coils tighter around your fingers, lacing them together as your now intermingled hands rest on the middle glove compartment. His free hand surfs the radio channels, eventually finding a decent rock song and leaving it be.

The smile does not leave your face when your eyes return to the road. You don’t think you can make your face muscles relax if you try. You don’t bother to try though, appreciating the moment too much to even think about hiding your giddiness. Your smile only fades when a slower song follows the one Mello had chosen and, brain trained on the faster tempo, you try to lift your hand to change it.

But Mello’s hand will not allow it. The movement in your arm translates to a mere twitch in your hand because of Mello stopping you before you can get too far.

Curiosity fills you. You wonder if he likes the song playing or if he just doesn’t want to release your hand. You’ve only known the bombshell blonde to listen to songs in the more ‘rock-metal-just-overall-head-banging genres, so you’re leaning more towards the option that he’s simply being stubborn with your hand. Until you hear it.

A low voice accompanies the one playing through the speakers. It’s soft, yet flawed and wavering as you pass bumps in the road. It’s not quite matching pitch, just a little bit deeper, but you can tell that’s the pitch he’s comfortable singing at. There are rough parts, having not practiced all that much and during other parts he’s out of breath with how close together some of the lyrics are. And with all that in mind, all those flaws and imperfections, all those beautiful little rhythms and notes — it’s all undeniably Mello.

You didn’t know it was possible but you think, just maybe, you’ve fallen a little more in love with him. Looking back, you think you fall a little deeper each time he does something like this — each time he shows you that the harsh exterior is indeed there, it’s not a facade, but underneath it is a person more complex than you’ve ever encountered.

You can think of no other way to show your appreciation for these revealing moments other than to bring Mello’s hand up to your lips and leave a few gentle kisses to his knuckles. His singing falters for a moment and you chuckle against his skin.

“Hey, we’re here,” Mello announces to take the attention off his mild embarrassment. In a way you’re glad he’s so sensitive to that, seeing as you might have missed the turn if he hadn’t pointed it out.

You pull into the entrance for the deserted gas station rather harshly, but the fact that you don’t crash makes you consider it a success. You pull the keys from the ignition once you find a parking space close to the building, unloading and locking up with a simple click of the button on your keys.

When you enter the convenience store attached to the gas station the door sounds off a mechanical bell, alerting the man behind the counter. His eyes — brown hues that are familiar to you after many days earlier on in your career of going on chocolate supply runs to this very store — widen when he notices who has just stepped foot in his shop. For, he knows the difference between regular paying customers and those who extort his business for chocolate bars of all things.

Somehow the most difficult thing about Mello joining Rod’s mafia in the beginning was finding a place that carried an extensive supply of the specific brand of chocolate Mello tends to gorge on. Once they found such a place — this small convenience store not too far from the base — they made sure to lock it down immediately. They sent a few guys to shake up the owner and badabing, badaboom: now they supply all their chocolate bars to the mafia in exchange for not getting killed. Talk about a symbiotic relationship, am I right?

The man goes into the back room to get said chocolate and meets Mello by the counter for the exchange. You keep your eyes trained on the door, scanning the lot outside. Luckily it’s pretty much a ghost town this late at night, that way any suspicious figures can be seen from a mile away. You’re not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but out of habit your hand is clasped around the handle of the gun buried inside your pocket, which you’re sure the man behind the counter is very much aware of. You can almost feel him eyeing it nervously. Good. With that threat looming over his head he’s less likely to get brave and try anything stupid.

So, with Mello now carrying a giant box filled to the brim with chocolate bars, you are on your way with a smile to the man behind the counter. You unlock the car as soon as it’s in range and pop the trunk so Mello can toss the box into it.

“Ready?” You ask, circling around to the driver’s side. You’re so ready to get back to the hotel and just go back to sleep. But Mello seems to have other ideas.

“No.”

You pause with your hand on the door handle. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I don’t feel like going back yet.”

You stare him in the eyes, wondering how he has the audacity. “Mello, I’m usually patient with you when you’re all…” you wave your hands around, looking for the word, “…spontaneous and stuff, but I do not have the patience when you wake me up at three in the morning when I have not had a proper night of sleep in months.” You leave out the part where that ‘lack of proper sleep’ is because of him as well. “Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not being weird, you’re the one who’s yelling at me!”

“I’m not yelling, I’m explaining. You, on the other hand, have been acting strange since we said goodnight last night. Whatever’s up, you can tell me. You know that.”

You’re starting to get worried. On the one hand you know he’d tell you if something life threatening was looming overhead, about to strike. But on the other hand you know that sometimes it’s part of his plan to keep things like that a secret. It doesn’t help that Mello can’t look you in the eyes right now. Instead his irises shift around the white of his eye like the vhs logo bouncing around the screen, hitting the edges screen’s and corners. “I would tell you if there was something wrong.”

“Would you? I mean, maybe if it was business related, sure.” As you mentioned before, unless he had a plan involving withholding information, he’d tell you if something happened in an instant. “But you’d probably jump off a bridge if it means avoiding talking about your feelings.”

Mello scoffs, kicking the gravel underneath the boots he threw on haphazardly before you left the hotel. “‘My feelings’…you sound like a Disney movie.”

“But I’m right,” you state with confidence. Starting to get fed up, you raise your voice when you say, “You can’t solve whatever this is if you don’t tell me about it. I know that emotional talks aren’t really your thing, but that’s not what this has to be. You can just tell me the problem and I’ll fix it, just like that. I swear.”

Blue eyes finally lock with yours. You figured he would respond better to the direct approach, making it less of an emotional chat and more of a problem that you guys have to solve together.

“I liked last night…when we spent time together without it being job related. We don’t get to do that too often anymore and I guess I didn’t want it to end, so I got you up to come out here with me. I guess I should have given more of a shit about your sleep…so, sorry.”

You let out a sigh with traces of a laugh mixed in. “Thank you for telling me, and I accept your apology.” Your hand slides off the car door handle as you make your way to where Mello is standing closer to the trunk of the car.

To your surprise his eyes actually don’t dart away as soon as you get closer. It’s like he’s daring you to make fun of him. Or what? You think. You’re the one with both the gun and the car keys.

But you decide to spare him, taking into account how much he probably had to build himself up simply to admit something so personal, even to you, someone he trusts with his life. So no, you don’t taunt him for that. Instead you thread your hand in one of his that is hanging by his side. “…and I think we can come to a compromise.” The trunk is still open, Mello must have gotten distracted before he could shut it. That’s best for convenience’s sake, though.

You lead Mello to the trunk and move the chocolate out of the way so you can reach the emergency blankets you have stored back there. You hand Mello the pile of blankets and, when you take note of his slightly confused expression, you answer his unspoken question, “I want to go home and rest and you want to stay out. We can do both at once. Could you spread those blankets out in the back seat while I get the pillows?”

“Jesus, how much stuff have you got back there?”

“I’ve got a raft, too, if you need it,” you say. Mello rolls his eyes and gets to work, unable to tell if you’re serious or not. Either way, his heart feels warm as he’s constructing somewhat of a little nest in the back seat of your car, spreading blankets over the seats to make the leather more soft to lay on and saving the fluffy quilt for last for when you two want to cuddle up underneath it.

You retrieve the pillows you promised quickly with enough time to spare to get in the front and flick through the radio in search of something soft to put on in the background. While you’re at it, you turn up the heat ever so slightly, hoping to protect yourselves from the chilled air outside.

“Thanks for doing this,” you hear from the back seat. It’s barely audible, hesitant and mumbled, but you do hear it. You smile to yourself and abandon the front to start climbing in the back.

“Don’t mention it. You know I’d do much more than this for you. Anytime, anywhere.”

“Ugh, you don’t have to get all sappy on me,” Mello complains, but climbs in the back with you nonetheless. He lifts the quilt and drapes it over himself, waiting for you to get comfortable before he lets it fall over your own body as well.

“Well, this feels familiar,” you joke, referencing your position on the couch just a few hours earlier.

“Yeah, it does. But, would you mind if I changed something?”

“And what would that be?”

In response Mello flattens his thighs against the seat and pats them, offering a place to lay your head. “I want you to get some rest. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but I also wanted you to get some.”

“You need it more than I do.”

“Mello,” you say sternly. “Please just try, okay? I’m here now, with you, so can’t you try?”

He huffs. “Yeah, okay. Fine. Only ‘cause I know you’re not gonna let this go though.”

“Good enough for me.”

The two of you settle on a position that involves reclining the back seat a little. Now that your trunk full of stashed pillows and blankets is emptied, you have enough room back there to recline the seats so that it almost feels like a lounge chair, cozy enough combined with the bedding to sleep on. You’ve scooted down in the seat a smidge, only because Mello seemed insistent on having you rest your head on his chest and the extra height you have on him makes it hard to do that without adjustments. Not that you mind though. You can hear his heartbeat this way.

“G’night for real this time. I’m not getting up again,” you remind Mello, who flicks the back of your head playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight. For real.”

[flyersheartbreaker]

Forever By Your Side| Isaac Ratcliffe

a/n: this is my first imagine that I am officially publishing! I am very excited to share all of my writing content and series with you guys :)

Pair: Isaac Ratcliffe x reader

Summary: Watching your boyfriend Isaac get seriously hurt during one of his home games and watching him battle through the toughest injury a hockey player could battle, so he can continue on with dream playing in the NHL

Warnings: Hockey Injuries, Cussing, Cute Fluff

Word Count: 3,321 words

It was just another ordinary Sunday afternoon watching a game live from the PPL center here in Allentown, Pennsylvania or so I thought. The game was going really well with the Phantoms up 3-1 on the Hershey Bears half way through the second period. There was your beloved star-studded boyfriend number 19 carrying the puck up against the boards through the neutral zone when suddenly bam everything went to complete silence, except for that shear sound that you wish you could so badly get out of you head.

I jumped out of my seat and darted up the stairs from the lower-level seats that I was sitting in with some of the other girlfriends. I can hear the god-awful scream ringing in my ears over and over again that was coming down from ice level. The crowd was silent, so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop and when that happens you know for a fact that it isn’t good. Nothing ever good comes from silence at a time like this and I needed to get down to the locker rooms as quick as possible.

Isaac got hit hard up against the boards and fell awkwardly down to the ground, and his right foot looked like it twisted the wrong way. He's had rough collisions before, but never like this. Isaac is a big dude that you surely didn’t want to ending up colliding with, but this time it looked like Isaac got the wrong end of the play. I never in my life ever heard him yell in absolute pain like the wat he was when the trainers and his teammates were trying to help his 6-foot-6 body off of the ice.

My heart was in my stomach as I was racing down the stairs that would lead me to the home locker rooms. I quickly flashed my team badge to the security guard Frank without saying a word. He must have known it wasn’t good either, as he told me to breathe and be careful myself as I jumped down the last few steps.

If Isaac had a season ending injury, it would kill him. He was just heating up and playing his best hockey yet and working his ass off day in and day out so he could eventually make the Flyers roster within this season or even next season for sure. But if his season is over that means his chances of getting to the NHL level could be too and that would just destroy him completely.

As soon as I rounded the corner to the trainer's office, I saw him being helped on to the examine table. His face was as red as a cherry, and he was in a lot of pain. The trainers quickly started icing the area the best that they could as they slowly untied his skate and too it off of him.

“He is definitely going to need some X-Rays done immediately and possibly an MRI as well depending on what the results of the X-Rays are.” The Phantoms trainer Brian Grogesky said to Neil who was one of the Phantoms physicians.

“Jeff and Robert are on their way down from the press box and getting the emergency X-Ray equipment ready. In the mean time you need to relax the best that you can Isaac.” Neil said to Isaac as Isaac tried his best laying down comfortably on the examine table.

Both Brian and Neil noticed me standing outside of the door of the trainer's room and signaled me to come on in, in hopes that Isaac could ease up and relax a little bit more with me by his side.

“Hello, y/n! Looks like we got a live one here and that big boy landed pretty hard on that ankle of his.” Brian said trying to make light of the situation.

Isaac sat up on his elbow and looked me dead in the eyes. I can see and feel the pan behind them, my heart sank even more for him. I just want him to be okay, I want him to be able to play the rest of this season, he worked way too fucking hard for this to happen to him.

“Hey babes, how is the pain?” I said walking over to Isaac and grabbing his hand while kissing him ever so lightly and carefully.

“It's a bitch babe if I am being honest. I’m trying not to think of the worst, but I can’t help it. This isn’t fair, why me? Why fucking me?” Isaac said in more frustration.

“Isaac, don’t get too far ahead of yourself. We don’t know the actual results just yet. But whatever the outcome is you can come back from it stronger than ever. Hockey injuries is sometimes apart of the game as silly and stupid as it sounds, but you’re a fighter and you got this.” Neil said as he placed another bag of ice on Isaac’s ankle.

“They are right babe, your team trainers, physicians and any other doctors have your best interests. Let’s get you into the X-Ray room and then go from there okay big guy.” I said while planting another kiss onto Isaac’s lips.

Jeff brought in some crutches for Isaac to use, so they can take him down the hall to get the X-Rays taking care of. I am hoping that is all that Isaac is going to need and that whatever it is, it's a quick recovery.

After a few short minutes Isaac was crutching back out of the X-Ray room with a look of disappointment on his face.

“Oh no babe...how bad is it?” I asked him while he collects himself.

“It’s not broken...but they are sending me for an MRI early tomorrow morning to see if that shows up with anything and then go from there.” He said in a low tone.

“Well, that is a plus sign that it isn’t broken. You got to be positive about this honey, you need to be optimistic. You can't be negative. Everything is going to work out for the best. Hopefully it's just a minor sprain and you will be back on the ice in no time.” You told Isaac as you wrapped yourself around his side.

All of Isaac’s staff and trainers helped Isaac out of the arena and to his car and safety got him into the passenger seat while, I got into Isaac’s driver's seat.

“Alright, make sure when you get home you put more ice on that ankle for at least 15-20 mins on and then same time off. Do it throughout the night if you can and also, make sure you are using the crutches as much as possible and for the love of God Isaac do not put any pressure on that ankle until after we get the MRI results and see exactly what is going on. We don’t want to make the injury any worse than what it could already be. Try to get some much-needed rest and we will see you in the morning.” Brian said closing the passenger door.

The ride back to Isaac’s apartment complex was extremely quiet. I didn’t know what to say or what to do, so I just let Isaac sit there and pounder in his thoughts alone without me distracting him. Which probably wasn’t a good idea, because I know my boyfriend, I know for a fact that he is thinking the worst possible scenario that he could think of right now.

I helped Isaac out of the car and into the elevators up to his apartment and got him comfortably settled on the couch with his foot/ankle elevated and two ice packs placed on the injured area.

“Do you want or need anything? You want me to bring out another pair of comfy clothes for you?” You asked Isaac as you placed a pillow behind his head/back and placed a blanket right by him as well.

“No, I’m fine...” He whispered as scrolled on his iPad to rewatch the ending of the game and rewatch highlights and the moment of his injury.

You so badly, wanted to say something along the lines to him like "babe don’t be watching that now, it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing that you could have done to prevented that from happening, so on and on.” But deep down you knew nothing would make him feel better until he knew what the main results were. And as the night went on, you could see the realization hit him that this was going to keep him out for a while. He just looked sad, and drained.

After a couple of hours, another X-Ray, and an MRI later, you and Isaac were sitting there waiting in the trainer's office for the results from both the trainer and team doctors.

Both Brian and Jeff walk in with a folder which I assume held the test results for Isaac’s ankle/foot.

“Well, the good news is the second X-Ray that we took this morning once again showed that there was no brake in both the ankle and the foot.” Brian said.

“And what about the MRI? What did the MRI show?” Isaac asked nervously.

I grabbed Isaac’s hand and interlocked his fingers with mine. I could see the look on both Brian’s, Jeff’s, and even Coach Gordon’s face that this news that they are about to give doesn’t seem to be very promising.

Jeff cleared his throat ever so calmly and spoke. “The MRI came back with a high ankle sprain injury which means we really don’t have a timetable for you to return to at this point of time. This type of injury is extremely difficult to recover from quickly. So, with that being said we need to place you on injury reserve indefinitely until we get more of a clear view on this injury.”

“Out indefinitely...so that could mean that I might be done for the season?” Isaac ever so softly spoke.

“Unfortunately, yes Rat...I am so sorry and with it being late into the season already we don’t want to risk anything further and do anymore damage to the ankle. Brian, Jeff and myself all agreed on shutting you down for the remainder of this year. So, it’s better for you to take this time to heal carefully and properly and then eventually rehab it back to full strength without any other necessary tests or worse case scenario surgeries. Then once you have healed properly, we can train and get you back to 100 percent for next year's rookie and training camp.” Coach Scott Gordon said while looking at both Isaac and myself.

My heart broke ever so much for Isaac, this isn’t fair. I know injuries can be a part of the game sometimes, but why did this have to happen to Isaac and why now?! He has been killing it day in and day out since being drafted in 2017. He deserves his chance at playing at the NHL and now with this setback is he ever going to make it to that level?

The ride to Isaac’s apartment was once again a quiet one and this time I don’t blame him. I mean how is he supposed to react to something like this? What is he supposed to say or do when your head coach, trainer and team doctor shut you completely down for God knows how long.

Isaac settled down on the couch and tossed his crutches to side and unstrapped his high ankle boot so he can comfortably rest his ankle on the pillow in front him.

"Baby, I am so fucking sorry that is happening, it’s not right nor is it fair to you." I said, resting my head on his shoulder while getting cozy next to him.

"What if this is it for me? What if I can't play anymore after this?" He asks, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't say that.  You being negative will only make that happen. You are a fighter Rat...you are one tough, strong as hell hockey player who will power through this. I promise you that." I said grabbing his hand and interlocking our fingers together, while placing a kiss on his hand.

A tear rolls down his cheek ever so slightly. "All I wanted to do was be that excitement that both the Lehigh and Philly fans need. All I wanted ever so badly was to have my chance to make it to the NHL level and it got taken away from me. Why do bad things happen to good people?" Isaac asked broken and frustrated.

Once he started crying, I had lost it. Nothing I could do, or say would take that pain away from him and it just broke my heart. I went into the kitchen and I just cried as grabbed him more ice packs from the freezer. How am I supposed to look at the man that I love, and not have my heart shatter like glass when I look into those eyes that were once so shiny, and bright, but now shows nothing at all?  I have no idea the pain he is going through or the frustrating emotions he is now going through as well and I feel terrible.

I eventually collected myself and walked back out into the living room and ever so easily and softly place the ice packs on the injured area and took my seat back on the couch next to Isaac.

"That's the crappy thing about life.” I breathed as I took a deep breathe myself and continued on. “For some reason, it always attacks the good ones, and praises the hell out of the bad ones." I sob, wiping away not only my own tears but also his tears once again. "We'll get through this. I promise. It'll be hard, and it'll be long, but we're going to pull through this." I tell him as I run my hand through his hair.

He squeezes my other hand tightly. "What if during my time out things don’t get better and I need to get surgery, and it's worse than they thought? That could happen. What if they see that my injury is worse than what they thought and that I am out on the shelf even longer and I completely miss this upcoming season as well? Or worse they tell me that I can't do this anymore?" He asks, gasping for air. "I don't want that to happen and I'm scared to death that it will."

I snuggled beside him even more then I already was, resting my head on his chest, sobbing harder than I was before, because I honestly hate when he thinks that he isn’t good enough or he thinks his career is over because of a minor setback or in this case a possible major setback. "Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? Just for now, it's a bump in the road. No journey to greatness is a smooth one Isaac. Whatever the hell happens next, we'll face it together as a team, because I am not leaving your side and letting you fight this injury alone. I know that you so badly want to break and that you feel like this the end of the road, but you need to keep pushing and listen to the training staff and follow their instructions."

"I love you so much." He tells me, sniffling. "Thank you for helping me with this, baby, I couldn’t do this without you" Isaac said while planting a soft and slow kiss on my lips

"I'll help you through anything. No matter what." I said while smiling and kissing him softly back.

It was battle to get Isaac’s ankle back to a healthy, normal, and stable ankle for a hockey player at his height and weight but we were able to do it. It was a long road and journey until Isaac was back out on the ice skating again and preparing himself for this upcoming training camp season.

Isaac looked and felt good, until one day right before the Flyers condensed training camp something didn’t seem right with him.

Isaac met up with Flyers trainer Jim McCrossin and after a deep examination we found out that Isaac was suffering from a fractured rib and a collapsed lung. We don’t know how exactly this had happen or when it happened. It could have been from when he fell during his ankle injury or from being hit during Rookie Camp, we don’t have the answers right now. And once again, here I am watching my boyfriend being completely destroyed and devastated all over again.

Isaac became instantly depressed, and much worst this time around because he knew there was no chance of making the Flyers squad this season and who knew when he could lace up for the Phantoms season as well. But thank God for Jim McCrossin who helped Isaac get the right and special care that he needed and got him completely healthy so he could play for the rest of this Phantoms season as well.

Isaac was getting game day dressed for a home game here in Allentown. I sat on the bed and watched/admire him as he fixes his tie in the mirror.

"Try not to worry about tonight so much baby, you are going to absolutely kill it out there like always. Once you get out on that ice, I have no doubt in my mind you will play just like how you used to before all of these setbacks. And just remember that no matter how easy, or how hard tonight’s game is going to be I'll be here for you always. But also, please promise me one thing, that if you don’t feel right to let your staff know immediately because I never want to see you get hurt like this again.” I said walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his torso.

"I promise babe, I know that I need to take my health more seriously and whatever happens, happens. One day I will make my dream a reality and officially play in the NHL, but for the time being I got to focus on the now and my health." He said as he spun around and kissed me.

Watching Isaac warm up made my heart race and beat fast. But it was all worth seeing him back out there skating with the team and his boys. He looked so good and happy out on the ice and that is all that I could ever ask for.

The journey was extremely hard and long this past summer and fall for both Isaac and I, but in the end it definitely made us a stronger unit in our relationship and it has totally made Isaac a stronger hockey player both physically and mentally.

After the game, I bolted down to the locker room this time excitedly to see my boyfriend, not in a complete shear panic like last time and waited for Isaac to come out after he was done with the media.

The door swung open and I immediately saw Isaac and jumped right into arms like a little high school girl. “Babeee, you were beyond amazing tonight! I am so very proud of you, how are you feeling?” I asked nervously but giddy at the same time.

Isaac picked me up and kissed me ever so passionately before answering any of my questions that I just threw at him. “I felt good and still feel good. It was awesome to be back out on that ice again playing with the boys in front of our home crowd, their excitement and energy helped out a lot. But truthfully, I couldn’t have done any of this without you, y/n. I love you so much and I can’t wait to continue this amazing hockey journey with you right by myside.”

[floreleine]

Hello, this is my first time using this prompt/ask thing so forgive any mistakes, Tumblr is still a beast I can't quite understand. Anyways, I love how well you write these two women and I was curious to know if you had written something for their first time, who made the first move, where they were and that sort of thing. I'd love to read your take on how that would have happened for them. Thanks! Hope you are having a good week.

Aww thank you so much! <3<3<3 I'm guessing you mean Floreleine (Florence x Madeleine) as they're my main thing? Bc I also started writing for ScarletMay... But you're getting Floreleine now :D

I don't think I posted any fics of their firsts yet... I actually started writing a completely different established-relationship first time scenario yesterday but didn't really feel the inspo to write very much for it, then today I just woke up with the idea to this first kiss scenario (which will probably rapidly turn into first time smut as well when I post it on ao3 later xD)!

I'm guessing less than 1k (not on my laptop to check and too lazy to put it in an ao3 draft), rated T for kisses and canon-typical violence

~

Florence is shooting her way through the men who had tried to hold her captive.

It's a mess, some of them scream when they go down, and there are so many of them - she knows there are even more than she can see right now:

the leaders at the other end of the hall are hiding behind a container, waiting for her to run out of bullets, but Florence knows she only needs to get to the workstation in the middle of the hall - there's a thick iron chain hanging down from the rafters, probably meant as a crude pulley, but it doesn't seem to be bolted to anything, so...

She has almost reached it (and indeed almost run out of bullets) when suddenly, the screaming and sounds of bodies dropping to the floor is coming from the other side of the hall, from behind the container.

What is going on?

Florence jumps over the body of a dying man, grabs the metal chain and grins magically when it comes down.

She is going to go and find out.

There is a woman on the other side of the container, and while Florence has no idea who she is or what side of the law she is on, for the moment they definitely have a common enemy:

She has knifes and daggers and slices through the men around her, ducking and using their bodies as shields when some of them pull guns, desperately screaming and snarling - she really is desperate, Florence notices: no matter how much she is still fighting, this woman doesn't expect to make it out alive.

She could use her as a distraction to make a run for the door.

She has no idea who the stranger is - might be a cop, might be someone from the Firm, might be a number of people Florence wouldn't consider worth saving if she has to risk her own neck in the process.

But right now, it's just a beautiful woman drenched in blood and sweat, fighting as alone as Florence just had against a number of men too great for her to take on, men Florence knows for a fact don't deserve to be saved - and Florence makes her decision without even really thinking about it, swinging the chain and choking a man, who's in the process of taking a gun from one of his dead mates, to death.

The other woman looks up, stares - then has to return to the fight immediately because someone comes at her with a knife.

Florence makes her way through the room until she is in the middle of it together with the stranger - they end up almost back to back, and oh they fight well together, almost as good as Florence does with Anna May - perhaps they could get even better, over time, since Anna May is so focused on Scarlet nowadays.

They keep fighting together, back to back, side by side, and they take down every single one of their attackers before stumbling outside.

Florence knows that she is bleeding from her side, as is the stranger from a number of cuts and scrapes, but none seem too dangerous at the moment, and as soon as they are in the clear, instead of checking their wounds or doing anything else sensible, Florence is acting entirely on instinct and leftover adrenaline as she slams the woman against a tree and gives her about a second to pull away before she kisses her fiercely.

The stranger returns the kiss just as passionately, clawing at Florence's back and pushing her tongue against her lips, demanding entrance that Florence willingly, happily grants.

They kiss until they run out of air, and then barely pull apart at all.

"Fuck, you are something," Florence gasps, still standing pressed against the other, leaning her forehead against her shoulder to breathe.

She can see and feel the woman blush at her words, her entire neck and probably her face turning hot and red. "Thank you?" she replies. "I - my name is Madeleine."

Florence pulls back a little to look at her again, giving her a grin. She knows she must look feral, deranged, her eyes still blazing and her grin too wide to really look friendly, but the woman - Madeleine - only tightens her hold on Florence's back.

"Will you let me take you home, Madeleine?"

Madeleine whimpers and presses another harsh kiss to Florence's lips before she nods.

Oh, this is going to be glorious.

~

Update: continue reading on ao3 (3k, E - second part starts at the line)

~

I'll probably post the follow up smut to this tomorrow or so, lmk if you want me to give you a heads up when it's posted! (Though like... The ao3 tag is still so empty that I don't think you'll be able to miss it if you go check xD)

Still taking prompts!

[shinsoups]

— Natsukashii • 懐かしい

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre: soulmate one shot; angst

word count: 941

brown = a love enveloped in safety and quiet confidence. it emanates a solid and natural comfort for lovers who yearns to grow old together

"Maybe one day..." he held your hands, tears glistened his eyes as it threatens to spill if he ever continued what he was about to say. He choked back, biting his trembling lips.

You tried to swallow the lump forming on your throat. Digging the palm of your hands, you blink back the tears in your eyes while forcing a tiny hopeful smile on your pale lips. One of you has to be brave, and this time it has to be you. It was always him, the brave and collected one. But seeing your husband break down in front of you, you steeled your heart and force yourself to be the stronger one. Even just once, just for him this time.

With all the strength you have, you tried to squeeze Iwaizumi's hands, urging him to continue what he was about to say.

With silent tears now falling in his eyes, he smiled "One day...I'll reminisce about everything and it will make me happy to remember every single thing about you." His grip tightened around your hands. You tried to conceal the pain away even when you saw that there was still a hint of caution and confusion in his eyes.

Yet he remembers when you two first met, how the way your eyes widen finding out that you were each other's soulmate. The way your coffee drowned his notes on the ground and how he tried to save your head from hitting the pavement. It was just like those romantic clichéd scenes, when everything went in slow motion. But the funny thing was you both hated romantic cheesy movies. You still gag whenever you remember about it and laugh at yourself afterwards.

He remembers how your nose bumped into his muscular chest, holding your head instead of thinking about himself as both of you rolled down the ground due to the collision. Grumbling about your wasted coffee and being late to class.

Iwaizumi should be the one who's mad about the whole situation. Yet the way those tiny brown paper hearts bloomed on the bridge of your nose matching his, like freckles mapping each of your faces down to your arms startled the both of you.

The bittersweet memories were flooding his head. You screaming at him all confused, "This is—This is not 'it'. Right?" you tried to fool yourself, but destiny had other plans.

"Hey guys, everyone — can everyone see this?" you flail your hands pointing at the blooming tiny hearts emerging from the both of you. But the people passing by just looked at you like you're some sort of crazed person who needs to chill and maybe calm down.

Iwaizumi was stunned as well. So this is how soulmates work huh? He mused to himself. His notes on the ground already forgotten. He smiled as he recount how you always runaway from him after bumping into each other at campus, at the gym, at your favorite local coffee shop. Everywhere you go, he was there.

"Remember when you accused me of being a stalker?" he told you fondly, adjusting the pillow on his back offering some comfort in the growing pain he was experiencing. Pulling off some tissue you wiped away the tears from his swollen eyes, trying your best not to break your heart once more.

You nodded at him, recollecting how foolish you were and how you hated the fact that meeting your soulmate would mean you saying goodbye to your reckless flings and love affairs. Rejecting the idea of being tied down after meeting each other, that scared you. But guess who's the fool who actually agreed to destiny's red string of fate?

Five years later, who would have thought that you'll be standing face to face with him saying the words "I Do" and promising the words through sickness and in health, till death do you part.

"Was it worth it?" you pulled away against his body.

Iwaizumi looked at you momentarily confused. His eyebrows knitting together at your question.

"Was it worth it marrying someone like me?" you don't want to hurt him anymore but a little assurance sometimes can help you get a grip of your current situation.

"y/n, you are always worth it. I would trade anything just to meet you again in my next life," Iwaizumi's hand found himself tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ears.

He closed his eyes, feeling a sudden wave of pain coming. Asking the gods why now? Why does it have to be him? It was just so unfair. Seeing himself reflected in your eyes, he tried to smile but he can't. How could he? When tomorrow he'll forget about you all over again. You'll turn into a stranger, he's going to hurt you with his words over and over.

What if the time comes when he won't be able to remember you? It scared him. Waves of paranoia flood his mind, he gripped his hair trying to pull the pain away.

You watched as your heart shatter in pieces once more in front of you. This has become your everyday routine ever since the accident. So you calmly pushed the red button above Hajime's bed to call for a nurse. Pushing a sedative to calm him down you waited until the nurse leaves the confines of the room.

It was always hard to say goodbye. But you have to be strong. Stronger. No matter what happens, you and him will survive this through thick and thin.

"Uhmm" he looks up at you eyes bleary and disoriented.

"Hi!" you beamed at him.

"I'm Iwaizumi Hajime...d-do we know each other?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

a/n: colors of love is a soulmate oneshot series about the different colors associated with what kind of love and what will timeskip hq!!boys will have in the relationship. mostly the oneshots are first meetings (coz ur girl is a sucker for first meeting soulmate au hehe)

2 consecutive au about amnesia i know 👉🏻👈🏻 but i think i wrote these drafts after watching 50 first dates with my cousin last month 😔 forgive me iwa-chan

⚘ · read the other colors here ·⚘

[arthemis-forge]

Chapter 3 Body and Soul (Crimson)

Warnings: None (future nsfw)

A/N: Hello guys! Sorry for the delay, what happens is that I was a little busy with some personal things but I'm back.

I will try to update twice a week and each time as we progress through the story, make the chapters longer. Another thing is I didn't notice that the previous chapter i published the draft instead of the final version. Which had many otorgraphic and writing errors. But it's already corrected. If you find something let me know so I can fix it. Also I am very happy for all the support, thank you for your lovely comments. Another thing, Do you want me to create a tag list?. Please tell me in the comments. That's all I wanted to say. Enjoy your reading! 🖤

Chapter 3(Crimson)

Lost in my thoughts, I walked towards the exit of the building while i was looking at the sky with some concern. It wouldn't be long before the sun rise.

And honestly, I was very scared. I did'nt know anyone in this city and didn't know what time it was in the area. My life was in danger and although I was sure that I still had time based on what the sky looked like.

I was still very worried about not knowing what time it was exactly. Looking at my watch was in vain. It was scheduled for London time not New York.

I was very nervous but I had to calm down. So i calculated that there were 2 hours left until the sun rise. And although it sounds like it's a lot of time, I don't know how much traffic there is in this city. And I needed to be in the nearest hotel as soon as posible.

Again I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not notice that a taxi parked in front of me, it was not until I heard the drivers voice that I noticed it.

—Good night miss, are you waiting for someone else? Or do you need me to take you somewhere? —

Hearing that question made me feel more relaxed again.

—Sure, I actually have nowhere to go. Could you recommend a hotel near here. One with good facilities. The price point doesn’t matter but I really need to get a good place to relax, preferably the closest hotel to the airport.—

I told him as I opened the door and carried my suitcase.

—Of course ma'am, in fact we are close to many good hotels. They are a few streets away. Would you like me to take you to see the exteriors and based on how they look you choose one?. I assure you that they are all very good, some more than others but none are bad. —

The man smiled while he waited for my answer.

I sighed feeling realised.

—Yes please, I would like it very much. —

The man laughed as he drived the car.

—You are not from here are you? I can tell by your accent. —

I nodded as i looked out the window. Analyzing the area I was in.

—That's right, I'm from London. I was transferred from my job. —

—That's so interesting. Sounds like fun to have a job where you travel a lot. —

—Well yeah you're not wrong. But I also needed to start a new life. —

I confessed while we entered to a large avenue with many buildings with hotels and apartments. Some were prettier than others.But nothing look bad about them.

—Is one of you liking? Or do you want me to go further so you can see more options?. —

The truth is that I could already choose one of the many hotels that were on the street. And I couldn't be so demanding, since i needed a safe place away from natural light as soon as possible. But a hunch told me to accept the man's proposal.

—Sure, I think we can see a few more options.—

No matter how much the car moved forward, nothing interested me. It wasn't until we reached the corner of the avenue that a large black building with Victorian architecture caught my attention. On the outside it had an ad with red calligraphy that said "Crimson".

—Stop here, I like this one. —

I pointed to the old building.

—I’m sorry to tell you this, but that hotel is very strict. They do not allow the entry to anyone who doesn't have a membership. It has already happened several times that I leave people here and they end up removing them from the place.—

—Don't worry I will try to enter. If i can´t then I’ll choose one of the hotels that are on this street. How much do I owe you? —

—If you insists, it’s $30 dollars.—

I nodded as I handed over his money.

—Thank you very much, also keep the change. —

I took my suitcase and closed the car's door as I approached the entrance of the building. However I was stopped at the door by a very tall man with brown hair and grey eyes.

— Good night, Miss. Could you give me your membership please. —

Embarrassed, I bit my lower lip and then proceeded to do something I didn't wanted.

—You're going to let me in no matter the rules of the place or what your bosses say. —

I smiled already knowing the results of my action. The man nodded and then open the door for me.

Once inside I noticed that a tall girl with black hair and violet eyes smiled at me as she applauded me.

—That was so wesome, Alice. Just as I expected, James didn't cause you any trouble. —

The girl approached very excited.

—Who are you and why do you know my name?—

I asked very confused and feeling insecure. Since she was aware of what I had just done and the worst thing was that she knew my name. This was getting very strange and I was not liking it.

—I am Grace Crimson. Owner of the hotel and great friend of your Boss Nat. —

—Do you know Nat? —

I said in a very incredulous voice.

—Of course Alice. But hey that is the least important thing right now, let me show you your room and I give you Nats phone number so you can call her.—

While I was trying to process the information, one of the attendants took my suitcase.

—Did Nat tell you in any way that I will come here? —

She just laughed at my question.

— I knew you'd say that. Don't be silly, honey. You are acting like a newborn vampire in the clan. Look dear, I'll explain. I can see the future. Today I had a vision of you in which I saw you giving orders to my guard right outside my hotel. It should be noted that I was concerned, because I didn't knew who you were, so I called all the offices until I found some information about you. To at least make sure that you weren't dangerous to us and to be able to take the necessary measures. By the way, I don't want you to feel bad about what I told you. But these are difficult times and we must take care of each other. —

Of course she was right, what a fool I was. I have been so involved in my personal feelings and problems that I overlook the fact that many in our community have that ability.

—Don't worry, it's okay Grace. I understand. I know how the security protocol works. And I also understand perfectly that you investigated me and that you needed to know who I was. —

I confessed.

—I already knew you were going to say that tho. Hey you are more friendly and understanding than I expected from someone who can control people's minds with their voice. No ofence but your kind is usually a very pretentious. —

I couldn't help laughing at that comment.

—I was like that many years ago, but someone changed me. I try not to abuse my powers too much, only when it’s necessary. —

I lowered my gaze to caress a silver ring with a red diamond that I had on my ring finger.

When she saw how my mood changed, she immediately hug me.

—Don't torment yourself over the past. —

She took me by the hand to walk me through those long corridors of the building. I must admit that I felt a little emotional. The place reminded me a lot of my grandmother's house.

—Here is your room, as you can see it is very spacious, it has a king size bed, living room, bathroom with a bathtub and a beautiful balcony. Also here is Nat's phone number. And don't forget to close all the curtains including the ones on the bed. —

She handed me the keys, a red card and a pos it with Nat’s new number.

—James leave the suitcase on her bed. —

The man obeyed her order and put the suitcase on my bed.

—Sure Grace. Thank you very much for all the hospitality. It has been a long time since I felt welcomed in a place. —

She smiled

—I know we are going to be very good friends. —

After that she closed the door behind me.

It's amazing how someone's life could change in an instant.

One day you are in London crying for your ex and the next day you are in New York and you're dreaming with a man who doesn’t even exist.

Thinking about that, I began to close all the curtains in the room and then i took the phone from the bureau next to the bed.

With some fear I called her, I knew that she would be very upset with me. But i had to do it.

—Hey nat it's me, Alice. —

—You are an idiot, I was so worried! Never do that to me ever again! I thought you wanted to kill yourself or something like that...

You sounded so sad. God you have take some therapy you can't continue living like this...—

I sigh very annoyed.

— Anyway, I already spoke with Bruce and he already gave you permission to work in New York. And before I forget to tell you this. Tomorrow you have a job to do. I need you in a bar, we think we found someone who can serve us for the clan. You will have to go to a concert near a local bar in the town. Grace will leave you the papers with the man's information.—

—Perfect. By the way, thank you very much for the favor. You don't know how grateful I am with you. Anyways, I will leave you, I am very tired and I would like to sleep as much as possible to be in the best possible conditions tomorrow—

—Of course dear. Have a good night. —

Grateful to Nat, I hung up the call and then closed my eyes. But not without first remembering Peter's beautiful green eyes.

[castielearmy]

Mission nightmare initiate ☆ 50 dollar baby part 2 ☆

 Links: Part 1, Part 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff (I guess)

Warnings: little bit of swearing

Word count: 1.1k +

A/n ~ Sooo I made the whole post and saved it into drafts but tumblr decided not to save it 🤔 but yeah here it is. Alsooo there are actually gonna be 3 parts because part 2 was too long so I had to separate it into two, I'll be posting part 3 tomorrow so stay tuned. Hope you enjoy this part! 😊

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

(Gif not mine)

It's been a week since the party. Which gave her plenty of time to think about the incident. She was hurt. They dated for only a month but it felt like longer to her. He seemed like a perfect guy as cliché as it sounds. Love just happens I guess.

"How much?!", her friend asked in complete shock, jaw dropping wide open.

"50", she said calmly while picking the whip cream on her dessert with a spoon.

"Hundred? Thousand?", her friend was trying to guess the number, wanting to make sure she heard right.

"Just 50", she said emotioneless.

"50 bucks?! He sold you for 50 bucks?! Who does he think you are?! A street striper?!", her friend was beyond angry, talking with a higher tone and moving her hands in the air while other people on the terrace of the cafe looked at her like she was a maniac.

And she was. They were both maniacs in their own ways. Perhaps that's why they worked so well ever since their childhood. They had each others backs, like real friends should.

"Calm down bitch. It's not the end of the world", Y/n calmed her friend down.

"So what are you gonna do now?", her friend sat back down from her slightly raised position and put her hands on her lap politely.

"I'm gonna get back together with him", Y/n picked up a strawberry from her small plate and ate it.

"Ooh, so mission nightmare initiate", her friend picked up her iced coffee and took a sip, "I like how you think", she pointed her straw towards Y/n and smirked evilishly.

"Of course you do", Y/n smiled at her friend before they clinked their plastic cups with coffee.

. * • . ° * ☆ • .

He was waiting for her at the promised spot. A hill that looked over the whole city they lived in. It was peaceful up there. A place they would both go to when they wanted to have deep conversations or get some things off of their chests. He had his arms crossed over his chest because it was a little chilly, his foot constantly tapping on the hard ground beneath him and his teeth biting his lower lip agressively. To say that he was nervous was an understatement. He was freaking out. He was about to pour his heart out to the girl he fell for on accident. And even though she probably hated him for what he did, he still wanted her to know how much she meant to him. He loved her.

Car lights and a quiet sound of engine woke him up from his thoughts. She parked her black '67 Chevy Impala (if you get this inside joke then I love you) next to his blue Hyundai kona. Yes, they were quite different when it came to style but opposites attract right?

"I thought you weren't gonna come", he stated as she got out of the car. After all it was him who texted her to meet up, which was exactly what she wanted.

"Then why did you come?", she asked coldly. She had ripped short shorts that complimented her thighs and perfectly shaped her ass, a white v collar t-shirt that revealed little bit of her boobs and a red flannel that was originally tied around her hips but was now on her to keep her warm from the chilly summer breeze.

"I still had hope you would show up", he said as she slammed her car door and started walking towards him slowly.

"What do you want?", she ignored his heartfelt comment and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I want you to listen to me. You don't have to say or do anything, just listen to what I have to say", he had a lot of regret in his eyes.

"You have 60 seconds"

"Okay, I know I hurt you", he started and she scoffed while rolling her eyes, "and I hate myself for doing that. Yeah, I dated you for a stupid bet and it was supposed to be a bet until the end but... something happened along the way. The month that we spent together made me feel something I wasn't expecting", he made a small pause. Like he was trying not to... cry?

"It made me happy", his heart skipped a beat, "I never felt happier in my life and... you were the reason of my happiness. I'm so sorry... ", he looked at the ground and let his arms fall down from his chest.

Silence. It took over the atmosfere around small hill they were on. He stared at the ground and she stared at him. Being very good with reading people, she was studying his expression, body movements, anything and everything. What she found surprised her. It was remorse written all over him.

》Wow. He was really that dumb and fell for me. It almost makes me wanna forgive him《, she thought to herself.

"Okay well", she inhaled loudly and he looked up at her with anticipation in his eyes, "your 60 seconds passed so I'ma get going", she turned around and started walking to her car.

》3... 2... 1《, she counted in her mind.

"I love you!", he blurted out to what her heart skipped a beat. This was not part of the plan. In a month of them dating they never said the 3 words to each other. Regardless of that she can't give in.

She put on her shocked face which wasn't that hard because she party already felt like that, "What?"

"You heard me. Y/n L/n I love you!", he started walking towards her, "I'm so sorry that I hurt you, I was stupid and careless and an asshole and I'm so sorry but please. I need you. I love you", he was now holding her hands, completely close to her.

She was confused to this point. She knew that she fell for him but she didn't expect him to be head over heels for her. She almost wanted to forgive him and forget everything but now it was too late. He used her and just the fact that he did, beats every chance of them ever being together again in her head.

They stared into each other. She could see fear in his eyes. After all he just confessed his feelings to her. He searched her eyes for something but he couldn't find what he was looking for. To be honest, he didn't even know what he was looking for. So he started to lean closer to her face. After she showed no protest, he connected their lips in a sweet, loving and long kiss.

》It's on《, she said in her head.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[hella-free-space]

Anything under 5 gallons is too small for a betta, i know 2.5 is the *minimum minimum* but it is the same as putting your betta to a bucket and calling it a day. They need space. Plus a "tank" that small can't hold a stable cycle and is more difficult to keep as, Let's say a proper 10 g tank

aight so...i wrote this big long thing (i’m a really wordy person, and i ramble, so bare with me) when this ask got sent like a month and a half ago. i typed it up on my phone, but mobile tumblr does this thing where if you take more than x minutes to write a reply, it doesnt let you save what you’ve written as a draft and it default posts to your main. and then it just doesnt post ever...so now i’m here, on desktop, to write you this long-overdue reply, Anon.this ask came shortly after a post/comment/reblog on tank size recommendation, so i kind of want assume that this same person who was discussing with me sent this ask, but i’m not going to assume but this person asked on anon... I’m currently writing a long-winded caresheet about bettas (which i plan to post for peer-review tomorrow), and so far i’ve written this about Tank Size:******“2.5gallons:The absolute minimum, I do not recommend keeping a betta in anything less thanthis because even in a cycled 2.5, keeping a *stable* cycle is very difficult,and requires more frequent water changes (1-2x per week at least). In a tank this small, you’ll mostlikely need to buy an adjustable heater as well, since the smallest (trustworthy)heaters on the market are 7-7.5 watts, and depending on where you live or howhot/cold you keep your house/room, the heat will fluctuate too often, or be toohot or too cold since the volume of water is quite small. A 2.5 gallon bettatank is doable.5 gallons:A great median for those who want to give their bettas a wonderful environment,but may be cramped on space, move around often, or whose living arrangementshave aquarium-related restrictions. A cycled 5 gallon tank with a bettagenerally requires a water change 1x a week at least. A 5 gallon tank also keeps a more stable cycle than a 2.5 gallon, and over-heating is less of an issue/concern. I still recommend anadjustable heater (I’ll always recommend an adjustable heater), though, as I’vefound that even with an appropriately-sized preset heater/non-adjustableheater, the temperature fluctuates too often and by too much. A 5 gallon is aperfectly good choice!10+ gallons:A palace! Your new betta would love to have a 10+ gallon tank! They’ll swimover every inch of it, I promise its not too big :) A fantastic choice for thosethat have the space and can afford to set up a 10 gallon or larger with all thebells and whistles (more décor, larger filter, stronger heater, etc. than the smaller tanks). Your fish will thank you and brag to all their fish friends that they ended up with some pretty sweet digs.note: If you feel you can’t give your betta a 10+ gallon tank, and you can onlyafford a 2.5 or 5 gallon setup (or something inbetween), that DOES NOT mean I think you’re a bad fish parent ❤ as long as you can provide the basicnecessities your fish requires and keep on top of water quality, and then do *what* youcan, *when* you can, youre doing it right :) (Never stop improving!! never stop learning!!) Maybe it’ll be a few months before you can buy your fish thatnew hide or a few extra plants, or maybe you’ll have to wait til xmas or yourbday to be able to afford a larger tank if that’s what you want, and that’sokay. As long as you do the best within your means (provided your animal’sbasic needs are met), that’s all your fish would ask of you ❤”******note: i address properly decorating/filtering/heating/etc in the rest of the care sheet. this is literally JUST the section on tank size.1. addressing that “2.5 gallons is the *minimum minimum*” statement anon made:its just *the minimum*...when you’re saying how small is too small and how big is too big without any defining *objective* factors, then it becomes subjective and opinionated. I addressed the cycling issue above in what I wrote for the care sheet. imo a 2.5 gallon is doable. is it amazin, perfect, the best you can give your betta? no...but neither is a 5 gallon .-. so, if your standard of minimum is based upon your opinion of what looks too cramped, then thats okay, and good on you for promoting a 5 gallon as a minimum tank. and i’m not saying that sarcastically, either, i really do wish i could promote 5 gallons as the minimum tank size, but when i’m explaining fish care to someone in the middle of the store, i have to give them objective facts (like the ones listed above under the 2.5 gallon section)To someone who thinks that .5 gallon bowl at petsmart is okay, who is standing in the aisle with betta in hand, me going up to them and telling them 5 gallons is the minimum just cuz its bigger isn’t going to change their mind 90% of the time. with a 2.5 its still on the small side, but at least i can give them objective facts. and i DO say “but if you get a 5.5 gallon its 2$ more for 2x the size, and a 10 gallon is 4x the size for that same 2$ more! and it’ll be easier to heat, cycle, and you’ll have to do less wc on it :) plus more room for decor!! decorating a tank is almost as fun as picking out your new fish!! :DD” so dont get me wrong there, please. but so many people equate bigger tank with more work, suggesting a “proper 10 gallon tank” to someone standing in that checkout line with their fish, some cheap food, a bowl, and a plastic plant? if they took my advice i’d buy a friggin lottery ticket. (I actually think this is what the post was about originally, that one i was having the discussion on before this ask arrived...if i find it, i’ll give a link to it)2. addresing the “it is the same as putting your betta to a bucket and calling it a day.” statement:they make 5 gallon buckets so i see no problems there [somewhat sarcastic, somewhat serious tone]. Just because a tank isn’t glass or acrylic doesn’t mean you cant keep a fish in it imo. Plenty of people use tub-tanks so i dont see why a bucket would be so bad so long as it meets those minimum requirements (2.5+, 76-82, filtered, good food, appropriate decor, lighting a must since the bucket probably isnt see-through and fish shouldnt live in complete and total darkness imo) and the material doesnt leach chemicals, I dont really see a problem? i mean, most buckets are taller than they are wide, but so are some glass/acrylic tanks (fluval spec 3)...i get what you’re trying to say here (i think), though: just throwing a fish in some water and calling it good ain’t good, aint gonna cut it. just like you dont want to suggest 2.5 as the “minimum minimum” because you believe it is inadequate for a betta.3. adressing the “They need space. Plus a "tank" that small can't hold a stable cycle and is more difficult to keep as, Let's say a proper 10 g tank” statement:pretty much agree with this part. smaller tanks dont hold cycles as easily as larger tanks, just the way it is (this does NOT tank into account overstocking, uncycled/cycling tanks, or chemical/parameter spikes). I agree completely that a 10 gallon tank will hold a much more stable cycle than a 2.5 or 5 gallon will. especially if the stock is the same (i.e. one betta). I also agree that bettas need space, and would like to add that longer tanks > taller tanks, since bettas (and most other fish) swim side-to-side and not up and down. a larger tank (again, same stock) will also require less wc/maintenance than a smaller tank. but, imma reiterate, thats hard to explain to the betta+bowl person you see walkin around at your local lfs/lps/chain store...in most people’s mind larger = more work, even tho WE (and hopefully all of fishblr/bettablr) know that that’s not true, even if we do our best to explain that to the general/uneducated/betta-ignorant populace.In the end, i think maybe you (anon) and me have different approaches to the same goal. we both want to improve quality of life for bettas, debunk myths about them, educate people about them, make sure people do right by their pets.i just want to change everyone’s mind first, get more people up to speed and get them out of Bowls-Are-Okay-For-Fish-Land, steer them away from those awful glass prisons and gimmicky tanks and THEN talk about how they can really spoil their pet, how to improve as a Pet ParentTM and give their pet The BestTM. let the water heat up really slowly so to speak (like hot tub, or a lobster pot), since i think I’ll be able to change more minds that way: slowly, steadily...thats what changed my mind, and from personal experience this is what changes the minds of others more easily.If anyone has anything to add, rebutt, comment, reply, etc. please feel free to #told yall i was long-winded and rambly #still dont know how to add hashtags to these dang replies ;-; #fishblr #bettablr #Ronireplies