#//he has been pulled out of the 90s | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmic-dust-poltergeist · 24 days ago

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Pt. 4 of the clone/reincarnation au. The bats find out Danny can be scary.

[Pt 3 here] [Pt 5 here]

Tim is pissed and terrified. He's frantically trying to find a way out of the current situation without Danny regressing on all his progress.

Danny had been with their family for almost 2 years and had come such a long way from the scared kid he was in the beginning. He's going to therapy and can handle interacting with people in general without help. He still tends to cling to familiar people in new situations, but it doesn't have to be Tim or Cass. He goes to school now as Damian's "under socialized and traumatized twin". The official story is that he was separated from Damian, then abused and denied a proper education because he was the second born as well as a meta. It's a believable story between the batfam and Danny's own behavior. But Danny has gotten so much better!

Sure, Danny still has some major issues and won't admit to having someone else's memories, but he's actively working on the former and the batfam is figuring out how to bring up the later without spooking the kid. Tim's not sure if Danny thinks they believe his flimsy excuses over weird comments or the constellations in his room that don't exist or not, but no one wants to push him. It's obvious he had a family that is all now dead, and he was experimented on until he died in the 90s or early 2000s, before he was somehow reincarnated or something into a clone's body. The running theory is that Lazarus waters were used to prolong his original life before he was tortured to death, and his soul or something got connected to the pit somehow during that time, so when that same pit water was then put in a soulless husk, Danny's essence started changing it to reflect that. It took a year and a half to get a blood sample from Danny without him panicking, but the result? Danny's blood's "plasma" is concentrated Lazarus waters, it's "purer" and thicker than the normal stuff. They had to keep their questions and tests light because the moment they commented on his weird blood, Danny had the largest meltdown he had in months, so currently, most of their theories are theoretical. Kid has a LOT of medical trauma.

But Tim is getting off topic. The reason he's freaking out is because the family got caught as civilians. It was supposed to be a nice day out. Tim, Bruce, Damian, Dick, and Danny were out at the mall. Jason was supposed to meet up with them for lunch since it was just a bonding trip. But they can't have nice things.

The only plus side of this situation is Jason hadn't arrived. And this is a plus, because the kidnappers? Joker and his goons.

It was an awful coincidence, even Joker looked surprised to see he had the Waynes. Dick, Damian, and Bruce do their best to keep the mad man's attention away from Tim and Danny. Danny's trembling form is pressed to Tim's back.

"Why does it have to be clowns? Why does it have to be clowns?" Danny is mumbling hysterically. Tim doesn't think Danny has interacted with any sort of clown while with them. Clowns are hard to come by in Gotham for obvious reasons. Meaning this is a Before trauma.

"Tell a different jok-" Dick is cut off by being hit in the face. He yelps as his nose breaks with an audible crunch and starts cursing up a storm.

Tim blocks out his family's shouting and the Joker's taunting to focus on Danny. The kid completely frozen when Dick yelped.

"Danny?" Tim whispers, only to have a gun pulled on him.

"Got something to say, brat?"

"N-no." Tim is panicking, Danny is no longer pressed into his back.

"Good. Now- What the fuck???" The goon clown's stupid face is drawn into a look of horror as he looks over Tim's shoulder.

Tim chances a look over his shoulder to find a terrifying and massive creature where his sweet little brother is supposed to be. And as Tim studies it's starry void figure, all long limbs, eerie glowing, low hissing, what looks like a crown of ice, and face of beautiful pulsing stars that move with it's expression, he KNOWS this IS his baby brother. He briefly wonders if this is how he looked Before, before remembering the gunmen.

"Shit! Don't shoo-!" Tim isn't fast enough and watches in horror as the clowns fire at Danny. His terror is for nothing though as Danny turns them both intangible til the gunfire stops. Then, his feral void creature of a brother attacks. Mauling every single clown in his sight. And Tim can respect that.

He does desperately need to get out of his binds though. Danny is going to have such a massive relapse in his ability to trust them not to hurt him because of this, and Tim takes his job as Danny's "security person" seriously. He NEEDS to be there when Danny is done taking care of the clowns.

"Re-replacement?" Tim has never been so happy to hear Jason's Red Hood mechanical voice.

"Get me untied NOW" Tim spins and demands. "He's terrified, Jay!"

"What?" Jason is totally bewildered, but complying. "Where's Danny?"

"Mauling clowns." Tim grimaces, really hoping no one dies. Danny would be devastated if he accidentally killed someone in his panic.

"THAT'S Danny???"

"Yes. Now shut up. Untie the others and help them check on everyone. I'm going to make sure our little brother doesn't have a complete breakdown that puts us back to square one." Tim tells him and starts booking it after Danny, following the trail of decimated goons. When he catches up, Danny is slamming Joker into the ground and freezing him there. Tim grabs an abandoned gun and shoots the remaining goons in the kneecaps while edging closer.

Danny says something in a language Tim has only heard when Danny is deliriously tired. Tim chucks the gun as far away from them as he can before stepping closer with his hands raised. He projects as much of his concern and thankfulness and love for Danny into his body as physically capable.

"Danny, we're safe now. You kept us safe, kiddo."

There's another gargle of his unknown language before his form shrinks then with great big flash Danny is back to his tiny fae-like form. Tim shoots forward when Danny begins to sway and wraps his little brother in a hug.

"T'm.." Danny slurs.

"I got you. I got you." Tim mutters. It's a little awkward since Danny is only just shorter than him, but Tim picks Danny up in a princess carry, tucking the kid's face in his shoulder and booking it back to their family.

"Tim?? Danny??" Dick shouts, and Danny flinches, sending Tim into his own feral spiral. He literally bares his teeth when the others get too close, making them all pause. They luckily recognize his tales. He's had a lot of feral episodes in front of them since Danny. "Okay. Okay. We'll stay right here, Timmy."

"I'm taking him home."

"Okay... I'll have Alfred pick us up." Bruce easily accepts.

"We'll deal with the cops, Drake." Damian is eyeing Danny with a heartwarming amount of concern. Too bad Tim is too keyed up to appreciate how cute the little demon is being.

Tim takes off again without a word, bundling Danny into the passenger seat of the car they took to get here. Once he's all buckled in, Tim jumps in the drivers seat and peals out of there. He's glad this car isn't a manual because it means Tim can gently reach over and take Danny's trembling hand. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb.

"You're okay, kiddo, I'll keep you safe." Tim mutters to him. "Even if I have to fight the world. I will keep you safe."

Danny starts crying softly somewhere along the way back to the manor. Tim REALLY wishes Cass wasn't in Hong Kong right now.

"Movie, music, or quiet?" Tim asks, starting the breakdown protocol they set up together. It's basically just give Danny comfort options to focus on and tapping or holding up fingers to indicate his choices. Danny taps Tim's hand twice.

"Snacks or no snacks?" 2 taps

"Water, juice, or tea?" 3 taps

"Alfred's choice or do you have something in mind?" 1 tap

"Am I or you showering first? I want to get the clown cooties off me." This time there's a tiny giggle with the tap.

"Should I stay in the room talking or such I wait outside?" The hand in Tim's grips his hand so hard he's sure he heard his bones creek, but he keeps all signs of pain off his face. A single tap.

They pull into the driveway and find Alfred standing in the doorway. Tim quietly greets him as they climb out of the car.

"I hate to ask, but could you make us some tea before you leave? We'll be in Danny's room once we're both cleaned up."

"Of course, young master. Your father and siblings will be otherwise engaged for a while. I do not have to leave for another 20 minutes at the very least and I shall have it ready in 10."

"You're a lifesaver!" Tim cheers before picking Danny up in another princess carry. Danny simply clings to him and let's him. "Do you want one of my hoodies for tonight?"

There's a nod pressed to his shoulder. While Danny is nearly as tall as Tim, he's significantly thinner and lighter, so he still drowns in Tim's hoody. The kid doesn't want to be a vigilante the way the rest of them are. He rather be the guy in the chair or upgrading the bat tech. He doesn't find the appeal in punching criminals and his bouts of being nonverbal being his excuses when asked about it. Which is valid, but Tim knew there was more to it.

Bruce actually shed happy tears over one of his kids not wanting to fight crime and being safe.

Tim walks them through their routine. It makes Danny relax bit by bit. He's nearly completely calm by the time they're comfortably shut in the small space of Danny's bed, tea sitting on the small shelf that was part of the bunk bed's original frame, Tim's phone is playing soft music from than same shelf, and fairy lights casting the whole inclosed space in a soft light. Tim cuddles this poor kid close, but is careful to not get in the way of his iPad.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Tim whispers.

[I guess I have to now..]

"You don't. Sure, I'd appreciate if you told me, but I love you more than my need for answers." They fall back into silence as Danny thinks about it. Tim refuses to rush him and it rewarded for it.

[You knew there was more going on than a mutation, didn't you?]

"Yes.. You're not always as subtle as you think you are."

[My sister, Jazz, said the same.]

"Older siblings, so long as they're doing their job, are bound to realize something is up." Tim smiles. Committing the new name to memory.

[Yeah...] Danny sniffles a little. [I have memories from a life before I was a clone.]

"I know." Danny whips his head around to stare at Tim with wide eyes. "You let little things slip, and I am nothing if not diligent in knowing my precious people and keeping them safe."

[Stalker] Danny gives him a teasing smile, and Tim playfully pretends to be wounded, before Danny looks serious again and Tim matches the energy. [I lived for about 15 years before the 2 I've been here. I am actually Damian's age, despite how I behave.]

"Trauma does funny things to people. I don't see any reason we couldn't indulge you and make you happy."

[I have several theories about why I regress. One is good ol' trauma, but the other is because my core is only 3 years old.]

"Core?"

[All infinite realm beings and some liminals have a core. It's basically your entire being and all your organs in one. It's the most intimate thing to expose your core to someone. And if you crack a core, that's attempted murder/murder depending on how bad it is.] Danny pauses before adding [The core is your everything and will use ectoplasum to create a physical representation and use powers. The buzzing Jon and Kon heard was my core, it's what gave me powers, and I'm positive it's why I no longer look like Damian.]

"Huh...I thought your soul got tied to the Lazarus Pit or something."

[Not far off. Lazarus Pit is corrupted ectoplasum. But my core was implanted into this body by my mentor.]

"Who?"

[Clockwork. He keeps the time safe. He tried to help me, but he's very busy and the observers mess with him to keep him from noticing something is wrong.] Danny fiddles with his stylus. [He was devastated when he found what was left of me in that lab. They did so many experiments before cutting my human body to shreds til I was just my core. But I'm not a normal ecto entity who can heal from losing their body. Their bodies are just ectoplasum, they can regenerate what they need and reform.]

Tim runs a soothing hand over Danny's arm.

[But I'm an abomination even to ecto entities.]

"How so?"

[The way my core formed was unusual. I was a mostly normal human until I was 14. I was just a stupid kid showing his friends his insane parents' lab. My parents were walking OSHA violations on a good day, and I was just a kid growing in a delicate situation.]

Tim had a sick feeling, knowing this wasn't a good memory.

[One second I was just the town weirdos' completely human kid, the next I had most of the city's power grid electrocuting me to death while a portal to the infinite realm opened on top of me, flooding me with ectoplasum, that revived me. Over and over and over and over again til suddenly I was able to escape, but the damage was done. I was suddenly something called a Halfa. Not truly a human, nor truly an ecto entity. Both and neither.]

"Damn, I'm guessing neither party accepted you."

[Not at first. When "ghosts" started escaping and hurting humans, not always realizing that's what they're doing, I was the only one that could do anything. So I did. I became a vigilante. It didn't go smoothly at first, but eventually I understood them and property damage decreased drastically. Only the script flipped and suddenly there was a government agency and my ghost hating parents hunting all ghosts. Nothing and no one was safe and I had to step up again to keep people who hated me safe.]

"They caught you." It wasn't a question, but Danny nods all the same.

[I got caught. I had less rights than a lab rat. I don't want to think about all that happened there, but they eventually slowly started cutting away my human body. But I'm a halfa. I need a human body and my core was a mere infant. That's when Clockwork finally found me. He apologized over and over to my core while trying to find me a new body that was soulless. He told me he'd find somewhere I'd be safe. And next thing I know I was in this body, in an entirely new dimension, and being told to KILL my template?? I was really relating to Dani (my clone sent to kill me) on the way to that roof. I knew I couldn't kill Damian, I never want to kill anyone, but I was still curious enough to go looking. And you know the rest.]

"I'm sorry about how hard your life has been. You didn't deserve any of that. It's okay to be absolutely wrecked after everything that happened."

[Thanks]

"One last question. What was that form earlier?"

[It's new. I guess I have 3 forms now? There's this one obviously, but I also have one that looks like how I used to look. It has all my scars, but is more powerful. I don't like looking at it. Too much hurt. And now I have the one you saw. It felt like a physical manifestation of my obsession of space and my need to protect. Obsessions can influence how an ecto entity looks. A ghost's obsession is everything to them and can get depressed or violent when denied fulfilling it. Indulging in it heals, sooths, and powers them.]

"Not hard to guess yours." Tim teases before pushing the iPad away and putting Danny's cup of tea in his hands. "Thank you for telling me. I know it was hard for you."

Danny shrugs. They drink their tea is silence for a while before Danny yawns, making Tim yawn.

"Guess this means naptime." Tim puts the cups up before burying them both in Danny's fluffy space themed blankets. They're out in moments.

The next day, and with Danny's permission, Tim explains to the rest of the batfam what Danny told him. They fret over and reassure Danny they aren't scared of him, they're not sending him away, he's staying with them as long as he wants. The whole situation is a big step back in their progress in making Danny feel safe, but they all work through it. And Danny starts to willingly share more of his past and "ghost"ness.

They do have to explain to the police that, yes, Danny has a second scary form, and yes, Tim knows how to shoot a gun, but it was self-defense. There's a security video of it all, so it's all indisputable. Everyone is pissed when the video is leaked despite the Waynes best efforts, so the family gets even more protective of Danny.

Damian goes full guard dog when they return to school. Growling and snapping at anyone who so much as looks at Danny funny.

Tim is just relieved he can honestly tell Danny no one died during the mall incident. Sure, more than a few of the goons are crippled in some way, and the Joker is paralyzed from the neck down, but no one died. Danny still feels bad about it, but that's because he's a genuinely nice person who didn't have to be domesticated into not using excessive force.

#tim drake #batfam #batfam shenanigans #jason todd #damian wayne #danny phantom #danny fenton #dpxdc #dc x dp #the joker #tw mental disorders #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #eldritch danny

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vanteguccir · 16 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSURPRISE PARTY TOUR: BOSTON'S ENGAGEMENT PROPOSAL * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where, at the Boston show of the Surprise Party Tour, Matt finally reveals his first solo surprise of the tour: proposing to Y/N.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Matt felt like a complete idiot.

Which was honestly fine.

Normal, even.

Because what else are you supposed to feel when you walk into Tiffany & Co alone, camera in one hand, jacket half-zipped, and the literal knowledge in your brain that today’s the day you buy your engagement ring?

The second the glass doors swished shut behind him, he instantly felt underdressed. The place was too clean. Too bright. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet where even your footsteps sound loud, and you’re 90% sure the floor costs more than your car.

"Okay." He muttered, clicking on the small camera in his hand, flipping the screen so he could see himself, waving with his free hand. His messy strands were doing their own thing, and his voice cracked a little. "Hi, uh, so I guess this is happening."

The Tiffany logo glimmered in the reflection behind him, all silver and serious. He turned the lens toward the inside of the store, slowly panning across the display cases that sparkled so hard it hurt to look at them.

Everything was white and silver and pale blue. Velvet chairs. Smooth marble counters. Employees moving around like they were floating, all super polished and weirdly calm, which was the opposite of how he felt.

He found a small table in the center of the room with a modern glass vase on it and propped his camera there using the tiny tripod suction he’d brought.

"I sent an entire email explaining this to the brand and asking for permission to record it. They gave me it. I even brought it printed." He laughed breathlessly, angling the lens to frame the table and the chairs across from it.

Matt sat down and let out a quiet breath, tapping his fingers anxiously on the edge of the table.

He didn’t really know what he was expecting walking in here. Like maybe it would hit him differently, feel more real. But all he felt was this warm weight in his chest and the nonstop loop in his head.

Don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up.

A woman appeared after a few moments, dressed in sleek black with a small Tiffany-blue badge on her chest. Her heels clicked quietly as she walked toward him, her smile calm and super professional but not cold.

"Hi there. Matthew, right?" She said warmly.

"Yeah, hey." He stood up awkwardly, then realized she didn’t expect that and just kind of hovered in a weird half-stand before sitting back down.

She smiled kindly.

"I’m Elena. Thank you for coming in today. I've been informed of your plans."

He nodded.

"That's great! Thank you."

Elena let out a soft laugh at how stiff he looked and pulled up a chair across from him.

"Don’t worry. You’re definitely not the first person to come in here with that look on your face. You’re shopping for an engagement ring, yes?"

The words still made his brain stutter. But he nodded.

"Okay, then let's start." She said, already opening a small black folder in front of her.

Matt sat back and rubbed his beard covered jaw. The room felt big. And small. And too real.

"Alright." Elena said, flipping open a tray of sample bands, all lined in rows with tiny cards that probably had words like platinum and cushion cut on them. "Let’s talk about her. What does she like?"

Matt blinked at the rings for a second, overwhelmed by sparkle. Then he focused.

"She actually wears a lot of jewelry." He started, voice calmer now that they were actually talking logistics. "She wears gold more than silver, but like both. And she hates anything super chunky or loud. She's more into the delicate, kinda simple stuff. Like she has these tiny gold hoops she wears almost every day and these little rings that look like... minimalist or whatever."

Elena nodded, already pulling a few bands from the tray and setting them aside.

"This gives us a lot to play with, actually."

"Good." Matt said, nodding. "She also... okay, I don’t know if this helps, but she likes stuff that’s classic but not boring, y’know? She’s not trendy. That sounds kinda corny, but..."

"No, that’s perfect." Elena said, already unlocking another small drawer in the case nearby.

Matt glanced down at all the million options, fingers drumming a quiet beat against the edge as his brain tried to concentrate.

Fuck, he wished his brothers were there.

Chris would’ve made him laugh to calm him down while Nick would’ve asked twenty questions about resale value and the clarity of the stone or whatever.

It was weird doing something this big without them next to him. Like losing your phone and realizing how much you depended on it. He was so used to them being right there in every step.

But not this time.

This was just him.

"Here." Elena said gently, breaking the spiral as she placed a new tray in front of him. "I think we’re getting close."

Matt leaned in, eyes scanning the rings. One stood out immediately.

It was delicate, so thin he almost missed the band entirely. A single oval-cut diamond sat in the middle with six claws holding it in place, no extra flash, no weird shapes, just clean and clear and... her.

He pointed to it, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"That one’s really nice."

Elena smiled like she’d been waiting for him to say that.

"That’s one of our most classic solitaire styles. Platinum band. Oval diamond."

He tilted his head.

"Yeah... she’d actually wear that. Like she’d live in that."

"Exactly." Elena said. "You want something she’ll love now and thirty years from now."

They added a curved matching band that hugged the engagement ring perfectly. It looked like the two rings were designed to never be apart.

Matt stared at them for a second too long.

"Can I- uh... get a second to record this?" He asked, already reaching for his camera and bringing it closer.

He lifted the box gently, showing the rings to the lens and whispering.

"This is the one. I hope you love it."

The big screen flicked for a millisecond before showing the banner with 'SURPRISE' written in big white letters.

The noise was immediate, and it only seemed to increase when the countdown appeared seconds after, huge and bold across the giant screen. The numbers started ticking down from 5, all in that signature grainy style.

The theater echoed with voices. People clutched their phones tighter. Someone behind Y/N whispered a breathless "Oh my god, it has to be Matt", but she didn’t even register it at first, her eyes glued to the screen.

And then, there he was.

Matt.

Standing in front of a camera, looking directly into it while adjusting his tie.

The crowd lost it.

They weren’t even at fault for their reaction. Six shows had passed through, and Matt wasn't the one bringing a solo surprise in none of them.

Matt smiled at the screams. He stood up from the orange couch on the left, where he’d been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Chris, and grabbed his mic.

The crowd didn’t calm down. If anything, they screamed harder, but there was something about his nervous little laugh that softened everything around it.

He walked to the side of the stage, shoes scuffing the dark wood, and turned toward one of the wooden shelves that were part of the set.

"Okay, okay." Matt said into the mic, voice shaking slightly but still him. "I’m gonna need you guys to chill a little, like, just enough for me to hear myself, alright?"

The crowd laughed but actually obeyed. Kind of.

"I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time." He admitted, glancing out at the audience like they were all his best friends and not strangers in a dark room. "And I’ve honestly never been this nervous before."

He paused.

Looked down.

And without needing to search, his eyes dropped straight to the middle seat in the front row.

Y/N.

There she was, sitting all cute and clueless, smiling so big it almost hurt him. She had that gentle sparkle in her eyes that only came out when she was happy in quiet ways.

She had no idea. Not even close. And God, she was going to freak out.

Matt felt his heart full-on trip over itself.

She was wearing the red and black Ralph Lauren jacket he had used on Philadelphia, and her hands were folded over her legs. She was watching him like she was proud just to see him standing there. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And that made it worse.

And better.

And way harder not to cry.

Chris and Nick were now on the left couch, explaining the dynamics of the live broadcast channel and the hint Matt was going to show to the public.

"Matt." Chris called, adjusting his mic. "We’re gonna be here all night if you don’t open that damn shelf."

The crowd cracked up.

Matt rolled his eyes dramatically to the audience, grinning as he turned back toward the cabinet door.

"Okay." He said, laughing through his nose. He reached out, fingers gripping the cool handle. "Let’s see what the hint is."

He pulled it open.

A ring.

Not the ring.

Just a ring.

It was chunky and bold and totally not bridal. Something from Paula, their stylist. Gold with a flat top, engraved with something random that didn’t matter.

Matt grabbed it and shut the cabinet again, turning around. He made his way back to the couch, but instead of sitting down, he stood in front of his brothers and held up the ring for them to see.

Nick leaned forward.

"What is that? A mafia ring?"

Chris squinted.

"Wait, wait- is your surprise a jewelry line? Are you releasing jewelry for Yesterday's Problem now?"

The mention of Matt's mystery brand made a crazy effect over the crowd, who screamed and begged for it to be about Yesterday's Problem.

Matt raised his eyebrows at the youngest.

"No, of course not." He pressed his lips together in a smug kind of way, then looked over his shoulder to the crowd. "Y’all are so off." He laughed under his breath.

Nick sat back with his arms crossed.

"This is too vague."

Matt ignored him. He tucked the fake ring in his jacket right pocket, feeling it clinking against the hidden velvet box, and finally walked over to the opposite couch.

He sat down slowly, smoothing his jeans and adjusting his mic. And for the first time, he looked up, not at the crowd, not at his brothers, but to the grandstand section near the side stage.

He found them instantly.

His parents. Nate. Mikayla. Sam.

All there. All watching.

Their expressions were... hard to read. Focused. Neutral, but expectant. His mom had her hands clasped near her chin, her brows slightly knit. His dad was still.

Matt swallowed. Looked back to the screen.

"Well, let's see what I did."

And then the video started.

It didn’t come with any fanfare or intro, which already made it so different from the slow builds Chris and Nick did for theirs.

"Okay."

Video-Matt’s voice crackled through the speakers, low and kind of nervous. On screen, the camera shook slightly as he clicked on it and flipped the screen to face him. He waved awkwardly with his free hand, his expression caught between a smile and full-on panic.

"Hi, uh, so I guess this is happening."

A wave of laughter rippled across the theater at how awkwardly he opened the video.

On stage, Chris squinted at the screen, tilting his head.

"Wait, where even is he?"

Matt hadn’t said it, but the massive, gleaming Tiffany & Co. logo was reflected behind him in the video - polished silver letters on a blue-tinted wall.

The moment the logo came into focus, Nick let out a confused noise beside Chris, practically leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Is that-"

"Bro, is he in Tiffany’s?" Chris finished, brows furrowed.

Even Y/N blinked in quiet surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she watched Matt on the screen set the camera down on a sleek little table inside the boutique. She’d never seen him even mention Tiffany jewelry. Vivienne Westwood was his thing, silver chains, edgy rings.

But she still smiled wide because he looked nervous as hell.

Matt, onscreen, muttered something about having emailed the brand beforehand to ask for permission to film, even flashing a crumpled printout of the email at the camera.

"I even brought it printed." He chuckled under his breath, clearly trying not to combust from stress as he fixed the frame.

Back on stage, Chris snorted.

"Why does he look like he’s about to commit a crime?"

Nick leaned toward the mic.

"Your surprise is that you stole some expensive jewelry, Matt?"

The crowd laughed again, some people clapping, some just wheezing into their hands.

Y/N was frowning now, eyes glued to the screen. Matt hadn’t looked that nervous since- well, since he asked her to move in with him from Boston to LA years ago.

On screen, Matt sat down at the table, his fingers tapping a beat on the edge like he couldn’t stop moving.

Moments later, a woman walked into frame - sleek black outfit, small Tiffany-blue name tag pinned to her chest.

"Hi there. Matthew, right?" She asked with a kind smile.

Matt stood up too fast and then kind of froze mid-stand like he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. He hovered awkwardly for a moment before sitting back down with a stiff, nervous nod.

Y/N laughed quietly, leaning forward in her seat.

"Oh, baby..." She mumbled, her heart just full.

"I’m Elena." The woman said, settling into the chair across from him. "Thanks for coming in today. I’ve been informed of your plans."

On the couch, Nick let out a quiet, "What plans?"

Chris nudged him but was just as confused.

"That’s great! Thank you." Matt said in the video, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Elena smiled, clearly used to this kind of energy.

"Don’t worry. You’re definitely not the first person to come in here with that look on your face. You’re shopping for an engagement ring, yes?"

The theater went silent.

Chris blinked.

Nick sat all the way back into the couch like the air had been punched out of him.

The crowd gasped.

And Y/N... Y/N froze entirely.

Her jaw went slack. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, twitched.

Did she hear that right?

Chris was the first to react.

"Wait- WHAT?" He half-shouted into his mic.

Nick was still staring at the screen, eyebrows drawn so hard together that they were practically touching.

"She just said- she said engagement- he- what?"

The audience exploded in a mix of laughter, shocked screams, and collective gasping.

Y/N covered her mouth, eyes glued to the screen, heart pounding in her chest so loud it drowned everything else out.

She didn’t blink.

She didn’t breathe.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the boy on the screen, the boy she’d loved quietly, gently, patiently, for what felt like forever, who was sitting inside Tiffany & Co., looking like he was going to throw up from nerves, and apparently about to buy a ring.

For her.

Matt had been planning this.

He had planned this entire thing.

"Oh my god." She whispered behind her hand, her voice shaking with shock and joy and every emotion crashing together in her chest.

Chris turned slowly to look at her from the stage, his mouth slightly open like he was seeing the twist in a movie.

"You knew about this?" He asked, pointing to the screen.

Y/N shook her head so fast it almost made her dizzy.

"How could I know this, Chris?!" She squeaked, the words barely coming out.

Nick blinked rapidly, rubbing his forehead.

"Chris, a wedding propose is supposed to be a secret to the one being proposed."

But Chris still hadn’t recovered.

"A ring, dude. Like... for real. We’re on stage, and he’s proposing?"

Y/N sat back slowly, staring up at the screen like it was made of stars. Her lips trembled, not from sadness or fear or anything close to hesitation, but just from the way her entire soul felt like it was floating.

This wasn’t just a surprise.

This was Matt.

Her Matt.

And somehow, he’d managed to turn an ordinary night into the most extraordinary moment of her life.

The video continued playing, but no one really moved.

The entire theater was still.

Hearts pounding.

Eyes wide.

Waiting for the big moment.

The last frame of the surprise video froze on the big screen, the tiny velvet box open in Matt’s hand, his voice low and trembling, whispering like a private secret.

"This is the one. I hope you love it."

And then... nothing. The screen went black.

For a second - two, maybe three - the entire venue was suspended in absolute silence. No screams, no gasps, no whispers. Just air. Thick and vibrating with a kind of collective disbelief that made everything feel just a little unreal, like the world had glitched and was still buffering.

Then someone - probably a fan in the front row - gasped out loud.

And the silence cracked.

A mix of choked sobs, happy cries, shocked laughter, and chaotic squeals broke like a wave through the audience.

Mary Lou covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide and glossy. Mikayla had literal tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching the side of Nate's hoodie. Even the tour crew was caught off guard, one of the lighting guys had his jaw dropped like he was about to cry.

Nick blinked rapidly and turned toward Chris, totally stunned.

And then there was Y/N.

She was still seated, her mouth parted just slightly, her eyes wide and blinking slow, like she was trying to make sense of gravity again. Her entire body felt... floaty. Like she wasn’t quite in the room anymore. Like she was watching someone else live her life and was just now realizing that someone else was... her.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her hands felt cold and sweaty at the same time. She couldn’t move. She didn’t even breathe.

And then Matt stood up.

Still on stage, in front of the giant screen, with tears in his eyes and his heart practically written all over his face.

He looked at her.

Just her.

And the noise around them blurred into something distant and unimportant. He brought the mic up to his lips, eyes momentarily running from hers.

"Can- uh, can one of you help her up here?" He asked, nodding toward the security guard on the right side of the stage, voice trembling through the speakers.

The crowd seemed to become louder.

Screams. Cries. People clapping and jumping. Y/N could barely process the guard gently approaching her, a soft smile on his face, as he reached out a hand.

She blinked at him.

Then blinked again.

"Come on, sweetheart." Matt said into the mic, his voice cracking. His smile was soft and a little wobbly. "It’s okay."

That’s when her legs finally moved. Barely. But they moved.

The crowd cheered louder as she slowly stood up, holding her shaky hands to her chest, fingers scratching against the glitter of her shirt - the same one that Nick was using.

She followed the security guard to the edge of the stage, the warm lights making everything feel more surreal, more floaty. Like a fever dream she didn’t want to wake up from.

And then, she was there.

Up on stage.

Everything around her was blurry except for him.

Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt.

Standing there, eyes glassy, hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them. He looked like he was holding back a loud cry.

"Come here, angel." He said again, softer this time. Just for her.

She walked toward him slowly. Feet barely touching the stage, everything trembling. The lights, the crowd, the sound, it all disappeared as she reached him and stopped a foot away.

His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. But when he looked at her, it was solid. Sure. Like there was nothing else he believed in more than her.

"Okay." Matt started, laughing nervously and brushing his fingers under his eye. "Uhm... wow. Okay. So... I had this whole thing in my head. Like, how I was gonna say it. But now I’m just... losing it."

She let out a teary laugh. So did the crowd.

Matt looked down for a second, then back up, voice steadier this time.

"I love you." He said first, like he had to just get that out before anything else. "I love you so much."

Y/N let out a shaky breath. Her hands came up to her mouth, eyes already overflowing.

"You’ve been with me through everything. Everything, Y/N. When I was nobody. When we were filming in our parents' kitchen and only getting a hundred views. When I had zero dollars to my name. When I moved to LA with my brothers and literally lived on hope. You were there."

He sniffled.

"You’ve always been there."

Her whole body was trembling now. She could barely stand straight.

Matt stepped a little closer, reaching out with one shaky hand to hold hers, gripping tight like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I’m not good with words. You know that." He said, voice wobbling but warm. "But you- you’re everything to me. You’re the reason I’m even here. Not just like, here here." He gestured around at the stage. "But like- here."

Her lips quivered as she sobbed softly, squeezing his hand.

"I wake up every day, and I can’t believe I get to love you. That you love me back. That I get to see you reading on the couch or ranting about your series or dancing while you brush your teeth. You’re the best part of my day, every day." Another laugh cracked in his throat, wet and breathless. "I brought your perfume with me to Vegas so my shirts smelled like you. That’s where I’m at. That’s how far gone I am."

Y/N let out a choked laugh through her tears, wiping at her eyes, her fingertips coming out black with mascara. Matt laughed too, even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

And then he reached into the right pocket of his jacket.

The room seemed to still again.

He pulled out the small velvet box. Hands trembling.

She bit her lip. A hand flew to her chest.

And then Matt was getting down.

On one knee.

His knee hit the stage softly. He opened the box again, showing two beautiful rings sparkling under the lights, and tried to hold it up while still holding the mic. But his hands were too full.

Chris was already moving before Matt could even think of asking for help. He ran up to them, gently taking Matt’s mic right out of his hand, and held it up close to Matt’s mouth for him.

Matt looked up at his brother, breathless and laughing softly through the emotion.

"Thanks." He whispered, voice cracking.

Chris just smiled his widest smile, his eyes shining with tears, and nodded.

Matt turned back to Y/N, holding up the box in his shaking hands.

"Y/N." He said. "Please, allow me to spend the rest of my life by your side. Will you marry me?"

And it was like the world held its breath.

All she could do was nod at first, crying and covering her face. Then she laughed through her tears and choked out.

"Yes. Yes. Oh my god- yes!"

The crowd exploded. Screams. Cries. Phones held high. Some people literally jumped. Nick tackled Chris in a hug. Their mom sobbed against Jimmy.

Matt stood up and pulled her into his arms so fast the empty box slipped, and they both stumbled a bit, laughing and crying and shaking.

And when he kissed her, right there in front of everyone, it wasn’t polished or pretty. It was messy. And emotional. And real.

"I love you so much." He whispered in her ear.

And she whispered back.

"I can’t believe you’re mine."

They stood there for a long time, just holding each other.

Two people on a stage. In front of thousands.

"The 'getting down on one knee' thing was successfully approved, Matt." Nick's voice echoed around the room from the speakers before two more bodies collapsed around them, holding them close.

They were the only ones in the world.

2K notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 1 year ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 11: It's Coming

Summary: Things have begun to shift in your developing relationship with your pack. Unfortunately, nature has the worst timing in the world.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, medical stuff, plenty of fluff.

A/N: I wrote like 90% of this chapter on my phone so please forgive any weird typos. I'm super excited for this one and this whole part really. Lots of good stuff coming up!!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

At first you’re not quite sure what pulled you from sleep. You’re warm and more comfortable than you have been in a long time, despite the dull throbbing between your thighs. The pillow against your back shifts, a chill settling in as some of the warmth disappears.

You blink your eyes open, squinting against the harsh blue light of a phone screen. Price lets out a quiet groan, swiping at something before settling his phone back on the nightstand in front of you. His arms wrap back around your middle, his face pressing into the back of your neck as he settles against you again.

It was his phone vibrating that had woken you, pulling you from the gentle arms of sleep. It’s still dark out, far too early to be up and getting phone calls, especially on a Sunday morning. You wonder how often John actually gets to sleep, between his job and everything he does when he’s not away. You’re understanding the couch in his office more and more now.

“Go back to sleep.” He murmurs, a quiet rumbling vibrating against your back as he purrs.

You don’t need to be told twice, snuggling down under the covers again, letting your eyes close.

You wake a while later alone. It’s daylight finally, the sunlight coming through the window lighting the room. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling Price’s scent. It still smells a bit like arousal and sex in the room, both of your scents heavy in the air. They blend together surprisingly well, Price’s musky woody scent mixing with the sweetness of your own scent. It makes an intoxicating aroma of alpha and omega.

Price comes out of the bathroom, slipping back under the covers. You curl up against his side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Morning.” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep still.

You hum in response, resting your head over his heart.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his fingers trailing your bare back.

“A bit sore.” You say, acknowledging the throbbing between your legs. “Not as bad as I thought I might.”

Price huffs out a laugh. “It shouldn’t hurt, not if you know what you’re doing.”

You hum again, the knowledge that he’s very experienced coming to the forefront of your mind. Even if it has been two years, you can imagine him when he was younger, the kind of experiences he must have had. Omegas and barrack bunnies and all sorts of women probably fawned over him.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says quietly, eyes closed as he lays there with you.

You’re starting to think he might be able to read your mind.

“Can I ask you something? Something...personal?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

He cracks an eye open to stare down at you. “Don’t think you can get much more personal than we already are.” His lips twitch up in a smile. “‘Course, you can ask me anything.”

“When was the last time you helped an omega through a heat?” You ask, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear.

“Years ago. Well over a decade ago.” He says, voice still thick and raspy with sleep. He clears his throat, a hand settling on your waist. “Back when I was still a Sergeant. I had the idea back then of settling down, finding an omega and having my own pack. Had a few on and off relationships. Then I started getting sent off on more and more dangerous missions. I realized my skill set and my purpose, and gave up the idea of having an omega. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting them through that, if something happened to me. I’ve seen what losing an alpha does to an omega firsthand too many times.”

A frown tugs at your brows as you lay there against his chest. You know the risk of them dying is high. The CIA had spent ample time warning you of that risk, telling you about how dangerous their lives are and how every assignment, every deployment, could be their last. They could be gone for weeks at a time, months at a time, and they could go and not come back. They know that every time they leave for an assignment it could be their last, and now you’ll be stuck behind knowing they might not be coming back.

You’ve heard about omegas that have lost their alphas, how damaging it can be. It’s not something you’re taught at the institute. That’s not something you’re supposed to think about, something you shouldn’t have to think about.

“What’s eating you?” Price asks softly, his finger stroking the pinched skin between your brows.

You shift against his side, leaning more on his chest as you look up at him. “What if you don’t come back?”

His smile is a bit grim as he stares up at you, his fingers trailing across your face. “I won’t lie and say that’s not a risk. There’s always a chance.” His fingers trail down your arm to rest on your hand where it’s pressed flat against his chest. “We’re here for a reason. We are the best at what we do.”

He pauses as your hand moves, your gaze lowering from his as you trace one of the scars on his clavicle. You can only imagine what caused it. A knife? Shrapnel? Where was he and what was he doing when he got it? You might never be able to know all the details. So many secrets, so much you can’t know.

John wraps his arms around you, easing you off his chest as he rolls you onto your back. You stare up at him as he hovers over you, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face. “Don’t worry too much.” He says, his finger trailing the line of your nose. “We always try our best to make it home. Now we just have an even greater reason to.”

Your hand cups his cheek as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You hum against his mouth, pressing your body closer against his. You can’t help but smile against his lips as his cock hardens against your thigh.

“Again?” You murmur against his lips, making him chuckle.

“Can’t blame me when there’s a beautiful omega naked in my bed.”

Your face burns as he leans back down to kiss you, his hips moving against your thigh. Warmth spreads through your whole body from his scent thickening in the air, his arousal prevalent as he twitches against your leg.

“John.” You moan softly, hands grasping at his back.

You both pause as a door shuts in the hallway, the reminder that the others are just a thin wall away coming back to you. The moment is over as your stomach growls, also reminding you that you’ll need to eat eventually.

John chuckles quietly, leaning up to press a kiss against your forehead. “Come on, let’s get the day started and get some food into you.”

You frown a bit as he pulls away, cock still hard and angry looking as he stands from the bed. “John?” You call out, scrambling off the bed after him. “You’re just gonna...”

“Give it a minute and I’ll be fine.” He says, moving to his closet. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your frown only deepens and you step closer to him, catching him as he turns around. You stare up at him through your lashes, wrapping your hand around his cock. He pauses, letting out a little groan as you squeeze him gently.

“Let me help you.” You say, dragging your hand along his length.

His eyes darken as he stares down at you, the pants in his hand dropping to the floor.

Your face is still a bit flushed as you make your way to the mess. You’re hand in hand with John, dressed comfortably in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings. You can’t help but feel a bit bashful, as if they’re all going to know what you did, as if every soldier in the mess knows you and Price slept together last night.

They’ve probably been thinking that since you arrived.

Price leads you through the line, making your tray for you. You nearly beam with pride at him taking care of you, your omega preening with happiness as he carries your tray and his to the table. You take the spot next to Gaz as usual, still practically beaming.

“Have a good night, love?” Gaz asks, smirking a bit at your pleased state.

“Yeah.” You say, your face getting warm again at their stares.

“Practically glowing, kitten.” Johnny says, winking at you from across the table.

Your face flushes hotter and you quickly bury yourself in your porridge to avoid exploding at the breakfast table.

“Sounded like ye had a great time.” Johnny continues.

Christ, they probably heard the whole thing. You halfway want to sink down beneath the table to hide from their knowing stares. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not really. They’re your pack, and eventually you’ll be in the same position with them too.

“Didnae know ye had it in ye, kitten.” Johnny continues. “We certainly enjoyed the show.”

You do start to sink down in your seat a bit, surprised steam isn’t rising off your skin from how warm you feel. Gaz’s hand on your leg stops you, his fingers squeezing your thigh gently.

“Don’t pay too much attention to him, love.” Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get to go first.”

“Am not.” Johnny whines, practically pouting.

You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics. You know from how much he bragged about getting to be your first kiss that he probably was rather put out that John got to be your first. It would have been that way regardless, but you know you asking John before your heat changed things a bit. It would have always been John, though.

It would have always been your alpha first.

Gaz’s hand doesn't move from your thigh, holding its place there as you all eat, Johnny still pouting a bit. You know they’ll want to pursue that sort of relationship with you after your heat, but now that John’s removed the barrier of the first time as well, you can only expect them to up the teasing tenfold. A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of Gaz sliding his hand slightly higher, fingers slipping between your legs.

You’re certain there has to be steam coming off of you now.

Your thighs squeeze together, trapping Gaz's fingers between them as you continue to try and act normally. Gaz turns his head just slightly, side eyeing you as you continue to try and eat your breakfast as normally as possible. Gaz's grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your skin. You fight the noise threatening to come up as he holds his hand there, continuing to eat his breakfast as if nothing is happening.

You hold Gaz's hand as he walks you back towards the barracks, leaning against his side. His grip around your fingers is tight, not even the rain dampening the heaviness of his scent. It's deeper than usual, the musk of arousal tinging the edges.

Your back meets your door as soon as you're back in the barracks, Gaz pinning you against the wood. Your own breathing is heavy as you stare up at him, his eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He groans, leaning down to kiss you. It's far more passionate than you've ever kissed him before, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your waist. “Making all those sweet noises last night.” He breathes against your lips. “Haven't seen Price that relaxed in a long time.”

Your face warms at his words, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He presses harder against you, pinning you against the door as his tongue prods at your lips. He tastes like the tea he drank with breakfast, herby and earthy.

“Has us all worked up last night.” He groans against your lips. “Hearing you, knowing our alpha was treating you nice.”

He presses his forehead against yours, staring down at you. You meet his gaze, shivering under the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

“Johnny bout cried he was so worked up.” Gaz's lips twitch in a smile. “Simon left for the gym bout halfway through, had to work out his tension.”

Your brows raise at the news about what Ghost had been up to last night. You figured he might join Johnny in his room, or perhaps head somewhere so he didn't have to hear you. Not that he would leave because he was being affected by you.

“Johnny was being such a whiny little bastard. Had no choice but to take pity on him.” Gaz nips at your jawline playfully. “I fear he's going to be unbearable until he gets his chance.”

“Well, he'll just have to wait his turn.” You say.

Gaz laughs, kissing you again before he takes half a step back, leaning his arm on the door above you. “Any plans today?”

You shrug, still leaning against your door. “Might read, or nap. Maybe both.” You sink your teeth into your lip, reaching back to put your hand on the door handle. “You wanna come in?”

Gaz's grin widens into a smile, his eyes practically sparkling. “Sure.”

You open the door, stepping into your room. It's a bit of a mess from you preparing for your date last night. You toss the clothes from your bed onto the floor haphazardly before pushing Gaz onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes before making himself comfortable. You toe off your slippers, grabbing your book before joining him on the bed. He pulls you against his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket as you settle against his chest. A quiet content purr begins rumbling in his chest, easing the tension in your body as you relax against him.

You stay like that, reading while cuddling Gaz, for quite a while. Your door is wide open still, the others coming and going as they do on the weekends. Gaz keeps your back to his chest, arm wrapped around his middle as he scrolls on his phone while you read.

Slowly his head starts to droop until it's resting against the top of yours. You can feel the content sleepiness settling into your bones as well, the words on the pages starting to swim a bit. You mark your place, moving just enough to set your book on your nightstand before you curl up against him, letting his even breaths lull you to sleep.

You jolt awake suddenly as Gaz's arms tighten around you, keeping you from flying off the bed. You blink open your bleary eyes, squinting at Johnny's grinning face inches from yours. His body is draped over both yours and Gaz's, a solid weight against you both.

“C'mon ye lazies. Gotta eat lunch eventually.” He says, sounding far too chipper for a Sunday afternoon.

“Fuck off mate.” Gaz says, shoving at Johnny's shoulder. “Was comfy.”

“Yer hogging the omega!” Johnny says, poking Gaz's side. He pushes himself up, scooping you into his arms and lifting you. “Some of us would like tae spend time with ‘er too.”

You yelp at being lifted suddenly, wrapping your arms around Johnny's neck to hold on for dear life.

“Well, maybe you just need to be a little bit faster.” Gaz says, standing from the bed.

“I'm plenty fast.” Johnny almost whines. “Close to beating your time on the course.”

Gaz smirks. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

You look back and forth between them as Gaz steps closer to Johnny, caging you between them.

“And ye will see it.” Johnny says.

“Cheeky.” Gaz murmurs, closing the distance between them.

You stare wide eyed as they kiss just inches in front of your face. It's all tongues and teeth, Soap's chest rumbling against your side as he purrs. A quiet whimper leaves your lips as you watch them, your body starting to get warm again.

They break apart, both turning to look at you. Gaz's lips turn up in a smirk, Johnny's eyes sparkling.

“Look at you, kitten.” Johnny smirks. “Ye like watching us?”

You make another quiet noise, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Johnny slowly lowers you until you're standing between them, Gaz not moving an inch as they trap you in a beta sandwich. Their bodies are warm and solid as you stand there, back to Johnny's chest. You can feel the bulge in his jeans pushing against your ass, Gaz's body a solid weight against your front.

You can imagine it, naked between them, skin against skin with hands everywhere. A quiet purr begins in your chest, eyes dilating as you stare up at Gaz. He smirks down at you, leaning down towards you. He skirts to the side at the last minute though, kissing Johnny behind you.

You can't see them this time but lord can you hear it. Johnny is still purring, the sound vibrating against your back. Gaz let's out a quiet sound, his hand dropping to squeeze your waist.

Johnny pats your side before pulling away. “Should get ye some lunch.”

Your head is still spinning as Gaz hums his approval, stepping away as well. You stand there blinking for a moment at the sudden loss of contact, the sudden shift in energy.

“C'mon, get yer shoes on, sunshine.” Johnny says.

You move half in a daze still towards your bed, your body tingling a bit still from the many thoughts that had been racing through your mind.

Something in the back of your mind begins to itch as you stare down at your bed. Your brows pinch in a frown as you stare down at the mess of blankets and pillows.

It's not right.

Your fingertips twitch as you stare at the mess in your nest, your mind taking over as you begin to rearrange the blankets and pillows. You forget you're not alone in the room as you fuss with the blankets until the itching begins to lessen a bit. You fiddle with the pillows, moving them around over and over again until you're happy with how they're organized, the quiet humming in the back of your mind fading away to nothing.

You sink down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. You feel tired and almost winded after your effort to make sure your nest is just right.

Nest.

You're nesting.

You blink up at Johnny and Gaz, suddenly aware of their presence in your space again. Johnny is staring at you wide eyed, mouth slightly parted in wonder. Gaz has a sparkle in his eye as he grins at you.

You've just built a nest.

“Feel better, love?” Gaz asks, still almost beaming from witnessing you make your nest.

You nod, a sudden weight lifting from your shoulders. You've nested. You're nesting. Everything is going to be okay.

“C'mon.” Johnny says, slipping your slippers back onto your feet. “Let's get lunch in ye.”

You let him help you up, holding both their hands as you make your way from the barracks, a small, relieved smile on your face.

You wake up nauseous.

There’s a clawing feeling in your stomach and you’re not sure why.

It’s early, too early to be up. The sky outside is still dark, and the barracks are quiet. You get up, heading for the bathroom, the gnawing feeling still plaguing your stomach. Cold water on your face doesn't help the light-headedness or the dizziness you’re beginning to feel.

You can’t possibly be sick. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick. You know heat sickness isn’t a threat right now. There’s no warnings out about possible exposures. It couldn’t be food poisoning. You eat the same things they do.

The gnawing intensifies, your stomach rumbling a bit.

Realization dawns on you suddenly.

You’re hungry.

You’re very hungry.

You check the time on your phone. Three a.m. Still too early for any of the boys to be up, and still a couple hours from when the mess would start serving breakfast. You head for the rec room, hoping there’s at least something in there to tide you over until breakfast.

You dig through the cabinets, plenty of tea and a couple packets of instant coffee you know belong to Johnny. You dig out a couple protein bars, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before taking a seat on the couch.

The protein bars aren’t great. They don’t taste good, but you’re so hungry you don’t care. You down them quickly and the entire bottle of water. For a moment you feel relief, the gnawing in your stomach easing. You head back to bed, slipping back into your room quietly.

You toss and turn, unable to go back to sleep as the gnawing begins in your stomach once more. You let out a quiet sound, muffled by your pillow as you lay there, knowing you still have a long time until they’ll come and get you for breakfast.

The thought makes you almost want to cry.

You’re waiting as soon as they knock, narrowly avoiding Johnny’s hand as you open the door mid-knock. The bright look in his eyes fades as he stares at you. You know you look miserable, maybe a little sick, even. You feel worse, your stomach twisting and gnawing. Those protein bars four hours ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

“Ye alright, kitten?” He asks, a frown marring his face.

“Hungry.” You all but whine, slipping out the door, closing it behind you.

“Ye hungry, kitten? Ye could have said somethin’ sooner. Coulda brought ye somethin’.” Johnny says, following you down the hall.

You’re determined to get real food and you’re not about to let anything get in your way. You feel ravenous, despite the fact you’d had a good dinner the night before.

Maybe it hadn’t been enough.

You make your own tray this time, loading on more than you usually do. You take your normal spot between Price and Gaz, all four of them eyeing your tray as you happily dig in.

“Hungry, love?” Price asks, watching you spoon huge mouthfuls of porridge into your mouth.

You nod, chewing quickly before spooning more in. It tastes delicious, something you never thought you would say about British food.

They all watch in awe as you clear your tray, eating every last crumb, having to refrain from licking it clean. Finally, for the first time since you went to bed last night, you feel full and satisfied.

“Damn. Putting us to shame.” Gaz says, staring at your empty, nearly clean tray.

You grow bashful under their stares, realizing you not only out ate them, you also finished first. “I was hungry.” You say, fiddling with your fork.

“No kidding.” Ghost huffs out, all of them finishing up their trays.

You’re in a far better mood leaving the mess than you were entering it, the sweet relief of being full after hours of gnawing hunger making you feel almost giddy. Ghost walks you back to the barracks, walking slow enough you can easily keep up with him. So slow, your arm brushes his as you walk next to him.

“Sorry.” You say, moving a step away from him. You’re so used to standing directly next to the others, you’ve forgotten Ghost prefers his personal space.

He stares down at you for a moment but doesn’t say anything, holding the door to the barracks open for you. He stands just inside the door, watching you make your way down the hallway to your room. He waits for the click of the lock before he turns, leaving you alone in the barracks again.

You settle into your usual routine of laying in your nest and reading, the giddiness starting to wear off as the time passes. You make it until ten a.m. when the gnawing hunger begins to return. You let out an annoyed whine, dropping your book to the floor as you roll onto your stomach.

You want to cry and scream at the same time, watching the clock tick by on your phone. You’re tired of being so hungry, and what’s worse, you don’t even know why. You’re just ravenous and you can’t think of a reason.

Lunch can’t come soon enough, and you find yourself struggling through the afternoon just as much. It’s almost like your body is on a timer and every two hours you’re suddenly starving, as if you haven’t eaten all day. You eat just as much as you did at breakfast, scarfing down food like you’re a starving animal.

You certainly feel like one.

You head to the rec room after dinner, Ghost and Johnny joining you. Johnny takes the seat next to you on the couch, draping his arm behind you as Ghost takes his usual spot in the chair.

You curl up against Johnny’s side, watching whatever he decides to put on TV half-heartedly. You’re waiting for the inevitable, the gnawing hunger to creep up on you again.

It does, roughly two hours into your time in the rec room.

You shift against Johnny, pressing against his side more as you try to ignore the hunger burning through you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you against him. You breathe in his scent, letting the citrusy scent of him wash over you.

It only serves to make you more hungry.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to get closer to him. Tears prick at your eyes as you know there’s no relief coming. There’s no more meals until tomorrow. You’ll have to go all night before you can eat again, before you can relieve the hunger. You’re not sure you’ll make it that long. You might perish in the middle of the night, or become violently ill. Perhaps both.

You let out another quiet whine, standing from the couch. You can’t take it anymore, both Johnny and Ghost watching you as you head for the cabinets, kneeling on the floor and rummaging through everything, desperate to find another protein bar or anything.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asks, staring at you as you’re halfway in the cabinet, checking every last corner.

“Hungry!” You snap, half considering eating one of the tea bags just for something.

You’ve just closed the cabinet door in irritation when an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the floor. You let out a yelp, Ghost carrying you easily back to the couch.

“Stay.” He says after dropping you back next to Johnny. “I’ll be back.”

Johnny wraps his arms around you as you pout, nearly in tears from how frustrated you are. You’re just so hungry.

“Easy, kitten.” Johnny says, pulling you back against his chest.

You nuzzle into him, curling up into a ball against his side. He starts purring quietly, trying to soothe you while you wait for Ghost to return. You can’t pay attention to the TV, Johnny trying to change the channel every time a food related commercial comes on.

You’re nearly shaking when Ghost returns, arms full of snacks. Your eyes widen as he dumps them on the coffee table, pushing yourself up from Johnny’s chest.

“Where did you get these?” You ask, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Vending machine in the mess.” Ghost answers, sitting back down in his chair.

You stare at him teary eyed, sniffling a little. “Thank you.”

He grunts in response, turning his gaze back to the TV as you reach for a bag of chips.

You can barely even taste it as you kneel there on the floor, basking in the first taste of sweet relief from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. You grab them by the handful, burning through the small, snack sized bag quickly.

You’ve barely finished chewing when you’re reaching for a candybar, a sudden realization striking you as your brain begins to regain the ability to think now that it knows relief is coming. You stare at the purple Cadbury on the front of the packaging, your fingers trembling as you hold the candybar.

You take a deep breath, quickly opening the wrapper before taking a bit, sitting back on your heels as you chew. “Well, shit.”

“I know, I hate the exam rooms too.” Dr. Keller says, flipping through her clipboard. “Too clinical and sterile looking.” She lifts your hand, removing the pulse monitor from your finger. “A little higher than normal.” She says, writing something down on the clipboard.

She takes your blood pressure and temperature, writing both down on the clipboard.

“Temperature is still normal.” She says. “How have you been feeling?”

“Hungry.” You say, picking at the thin fabric of the hospital gown you’ve been forced into. “Ravenously hungry and clingy.” You continue. “A bit more emotional than normal too.”

Dr. Keller nods, writing all of it down. “Normal things for your pre-heat, according to your file. Anything out of the ordinary? Aches and pains? Any nausea or vomiting, not related to hunger?”

You shake your head. “No. Kinda sleepy all the time too, but the hunger makes it hard to sleep.”

Dr. Keller nods. “That’s normal. Your body is preparing for a few days of very little caloric intake and little rest. I’d say you’re exhibiting all the signs of pre-heat. You’re right on time, as expected.” She gives you a little smile. “Judging by your vitals you still have a few days before the full heat symptoms begin. Any questions?”

“What do institutes do for heats?” John asks where he’s sitting to the side of the exam table.

“It depends on the institute.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you.

“FIOT rotated between sedation and isolation.” You say, not really wanting to think back on the heats you had gone through at the institute. “Sedation for the full heat, or shutting us in private rooms for a week to ride out the symptoms alone to avoid triggering heats in the other omegas.”

“Neither are great, but in that sort of environment there’s not a lot that can be done. Sedation is the better of the two, though it can still be disorienting. Isolation is painful and risky, especially if proper care isn’t given.” Dr. Keller says.

“Is sedation an option for the future?” Price asks.

You turn to look at him, before looking back at Dr. Keller.

“It’s something we can explore. I know it can’t be expected of you to be here for every heat. We can start exploring some alternatives after this heat is over and I have a better idea of what they’re going to look like.” Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Now, I’d like to do a little exam just to give me a baseline for after your heat when I check for any abnormalities or injuries.”

She directs you to lay down on the exam table and put your feet in the stirrups. You suddenly feel nervous, her words doing little to calm you. John appears in your peripheral, slipping his hand into yours.

“Is that a risk?” You ask as Dr. Keller pulls a clean pair of gloves on.

“Only a small one.” She says, standing at the end of the table. “I know you’ve probably heard all the horror stories, but those are only really concerns with inexperienced alphas who have never helped an omega through a heat before, especially those who had limited exposure to omegas in general.” She smiles at you. “You’re in good hands, my dear.”

She does her exam, letting you sit up once she’s finished. John helps you up, still holding your hand. Dr. Keller’s words do ease your concerns just a bit, but you can’t help the images flashing through your mind, the horror stories of mutilations and even deaths. You trust Price to take care of you, but at the same time, you won’t know until it’s over.

“Everything looks good.” She says. “The best thing you can do right now is try to satiate the pre-heat symptoms and take this time to make sure everything is ready and in place for when the full heat begins. Don’t worry too much.” She looks pointedly at you. “I’ll be on call and ready should something happen.” Her gaze turns to John. “Your beta knows what to look out for, right?”

John nods. “Kyle has been doing a lot of research. He knows what to do.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, looking back at you. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can go back to my office where it’s more comfortable and talk some more.”

Dr. Keller leaves you alone in the room, Price helping you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the room with you. You turn to look up at him, Dr. Keller waiting for you near her office door.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Price says, leaning down towards you.

“Yeah.” You say, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

You try to ignore the look on Dr. Keller’s face as you walk past her and into her office, your face warming a bit in response. You take your normal seat, trying to get comfortable despite your bashfulness.

“You and Captain Price seem a lot closer.” Dr. Keller says as she sits across from you on the couch.

You nod. “Yeah. We, uh, we have gotten closer.” You chew on your lip. “We slept together...on Saturday night. Had a date, he cooked dinner. Then we...did it.”

Dr. Keller’s brows raise at your words, her face surprised. “Oh? Is that so? Is that something you wanted?”

You nod. “I asked him if he’d do it. I wanted my first time to be when I could remember it...before I would feel like it was something that had to be done.”

Dr. Keller hums, writing something down. “Did you have fun?”

Your face warms at her words, and you halfway wish the chair would swallow you whole. You nod, hiding your fingers beneath your sleeves again. “Yeah. I uh, started nesting too.”

Dr. Keller’s face breaks out into a huge smile. “That’s great! That’s fantastic news! Perfect timing too.”

You nod. “Yeah. Started on Sunday. Been feeling it since.”

“Good. That gives us one less thing to worry about.” She sets her notebook aside, crossing her legs as she stares at you. “How do you feel about your heat coming so soon?”

“Nervous.” You answer honestly.

“It can be a bit daunting, I’d imagine, your first heat with an alpha. Captain Price knows what he’s doing, though. He and Sergeant Garrick will take good care of you.”

“I know.” You say, fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s still scary. A lot of things can happen and...what if one of them does?”

“It’s not very likely.” Dr. Keller reassures you. “Captain Price knows what he’s doing. He’s experienced with omegas and heats and the likelihood of him losing control is small, even after so long without any contact with an omega. It sounds like Sergeant Garrick has educated himself on things to look for, and what to do to help. I’ll be ready and on call the entire time as well. I’ll make regular check-ins with Sergeant Garrick too, to make sure everything is going smoothly. You’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure you’re well taken care of. I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust people that are still somewhat strangers, but we all have your best interests in mind here.”

“I know.” You say quietly. “It’s hard, not knowing much of anything. They tell you everything you should expect at the institute over and over again, then you get in it and everything is different. Nothing is like it should be. Nothing like they said. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You were prepared for one life and got an entirely different one. Lucky for you, though, you’re surrounded by very understanding people who are more than happy to help you. I know this is so far from ideal for you, but I think you’re doing a fantastic job with what you were handed.”

You stare at your hands, thinking over her words. John’s called you a good omega before. He’s called you that a few times. He thinks you’re doing a good job, despite the fact you feel like none of your skills are useful here. Despite the fact you feel like you haven’t been trying.

You think over everything they’ve done for you, how hard they’ve tried to help make you as comfortable as possible. She’s right. They’re all so understanding and you know they like you. You can see it in their reactions to you, you can smell it on them. You know Gaz won’t let anything happen to you, even if something goes wrong.

They have yet to prove themselves untrustworthy, for the most part.

Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about.

“Come on.” Ghost says, standing in your doorway. You almost don't recognize him in a beanie and surgical mask instead of his usual balaclava. “Get shoes on, and let’s go.”

“Go where?” You ask, sitting up on your bed.

“Shopping.” He says, before turning on his heel.

You frown, but do as he says, slipping on comfortable shoes and grabbing your phone. You head down the hall towards the door, a familiar car parked outside. Price and Ghost are waiting next to the car, both dressed in civilian clothes. You approach them hesitantly, suddenly feeling intimidated in the presence of the two alphas. You know you have nothing to worry about, but this is the first time you'll be alone with both of them.

Ghost steps up to you, a bottle in his hand. You barely have time to hold your breath before he sprays you down with scent blocker, the harsh chemicals burning your nose as they settle on your skin and cut off your scent. It's necessary, even with two alphas around you.

“Ready?” John asks, letting his eyes scan over your form for a second. He could probably pick up on your tension and uneasy energy from a mile away.

“Can...Can I ask why?” You ask as John opens the back door for you.

“Well, we can't have you starving to death on us, can we?” John smiles. “And we need to get a few things for your heat.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking up at him.

“Hop in. Hopefully we can get the shopping done before dinner.” John says.

Before you get hungry again.

You climb in the backseat, John closing the door before getting in the driver's side. Ghost is already in the passenger seat, buckled in and ready.

You sit and watch the landscape pass by, the car quiet except for the radio. The contrast between the two betas and the two alphas is almost as distinct as night and day. Johnny and Gaz had talked almost nonstop the entire drive to and back from town. Ghost and Price seem content in their silence, Ghost watching the landscape pass just like you.

It speaks volumes of their trust and ease with each other.

The farmlands turn to city and you find yourself back at Asda again. You hold John's hand as you walk, Ghost taking your other side, sandwiching you between them. People stare as you pass, their eyes on Ghost, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

You stick close to John as you walk through the store, picking up items you'll need for your heat, as well as some other things. Ghost follows like a shadow, people giving you a wide berth when they spot him. You're almost grateful for it. You swear some of them can tell you're about to start your heat, their eyes burning into you as they pass.

You can feel the beginnings of hunger starting to creep in as you walk down the bed liner aisle. You know if you weren't starting to get hungry, you would have been close to combusting from the knowledge of why this aisle was necessary.

You let out a sigh, leaning your head against John's arm as he crosses the bed liner off the list.

“What?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“You know what I miss?” You say, wrapping your arms around one of his. “Good authentic Mexican food.”

The corner of John's lips lift in a smile. “Yeah? You getting hungry again?”

You nod, a subtle whine to your tone. “Yeah.”

John turns to look at Ghost, the two alphas having a seconds long silent conversation before Ghost heads off, disappearing from the aisle.

“Where's he going?” You ask.

“Getting a head start on the other supplies for your heat.” John says. “Just a couple more things, then your snacks and we'll be done and we'll get some dinner.”

You stop as you turn the corner around the end of the aisle, your eyes spotting a giant teddy bear. It looks soft and squishy, your pre-heat addled brain already picturing the perfect spot for it in your nest.

“You want it?” John asks, looking between you and the bear.

You snap back into reality for a moment, glancing up at the price. You nearly die on the spot, shaking your head. “I-I don't...”

John turns you to face him, speaking firmly. “Do you want it?”

You stare up into his eyes, nodding slowly.

His gaze softens just a bit, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then grab it.”

You're moving before you can even have a second thought, wrapping your arms around it and lifting it off the shelf. It's just as soft as you thought it would be, nearly as big as you are too. You can imagine cuddling it in your nest, napping contently, surrounded in soft plushness.

“C'mon pup.” John says, patting your back gently. You're purring, you realize suddenly, the sound leaving you entirely unconsciously. “Let's get you some snacks then we'll get dinner.”

You carry the bear, following John to the grocery section of the store. He takes you to the snack aisle and you pass the bear off to him, grabbing anything and everything that looks good, loading up the cart. You grab a few things from the American section as well, snacks you didn't think you'd miss, but right now they sound like manna straight from heaven.

“Simon's done with his part.” John says, glancing at his phone. “We'll meet back at the car.”

You take the bear back once you're done filling the cart with snacks, heading towards the checkout. You're hesitant to let the bear go long enough to be scanned before you're holding it again, purring quietly and contently.

John keeps his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot towards the car. There's already bags in the trunk from Ghost, the alpha already in the passenger seat. They must have both been carrying keys to the car. Safety precautions. Things most people wouldn't even think about.

“Thank you.” You say as John fills the trunk with the rest of the bags. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Yes we did.” John says, looking down at you. “Not going let you starve like that if we can help it.”

“It's still strange to me, getting taken care of.” You say, squeezing the bear. “Still makes me feel a bit like a sugar baby.”

John chuckles. “Don't worry, I won't make you call me daddy.” He leans in close to your ear. “Unless you want to.”

Your face burns hot, your entire body igniting with heat at his words. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass, directing you to the door of the car before taking the cart back to the store.

Your face is still burning as you attempt to climb into the car with your bear, giving up and stuffing it in first.

“What the hell is that?” Ghosts asks, turning to look at you.

“My new bear.” You respond, arranging the bear so its sitting in the seat beside you.

“Christ.” He breathes, and you can practically hear the eye roll as you buckle the bear in.

You buckle yourself in as John climbs in the driver's seat.

“All set?” He asks, turning to look at you.

You nod, smiling happily despite the hunger eating away at you.

“Let's get some dinner, then we'll head back to base.” John says, turning on the car. “Can't have our omega starving on us, can we?”

Ghost snorts. “Best feed her before she decides we look appetizing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You'd be too gamey, Ghost.” You say, eyeing him before turning your gaze to the seat in front of you. “John, though...” You lick your lips. “I already know you taste good.”

John lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles with the edge of a pleased growl. “Easy, kitten.”

Ghost lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. “Spare me. Now there's two of ‘em.”

John chuckles again, squeezing Ghost's shoulder. “Little did you know, Simon.”

Ghost turns to look at John. “Is it too late to get a refund?”

You stifle a giggle as John smiles. “You'll have to ask Laswell.”

Ghost sighs, turning to look out the window. “No hope for it, then.”

“Hey, at least I'm cute!” You grin. “Don't tell Johnny I said that.”

You practically beam with pride as you see Ghost's shoulders shake with his laughter. Maybe you can get through to him more than you think you can.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get him to like you.

The knock comes at your door unexpectedly. It's late, and you had just begun to feel the pangs of hunger once more. You hate it, but you know it's necessary considering you'll have to go roughly a week getting in nothing but what nutrient bars can offer while exerting insane amounts of energy. Your body needs to store the calories now so that you don't die during your heat.

You're surprised to see Ghost on the other side of the door, back in his balaclava. His shoulders are squared, but you can't scent any anger or hostility on him.

He almost seems...nervous.

“Hungry?” He asks, staring down at you.

“Always.” You answer almost instinctively, staring up into his deep brown eyes.

He motions for you to follow with his head. “C'mon.”

You frown a little, but you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. You follow him towards the rec room, staring at his broad back. His shoulders are still squared, hands in his pockets.

The rec room is set up again not unlike it was for your date with John. The card table is out and there's foil covered dishes on it, along with a couple plates. Your brows raise in surprise as you take it all in.

“I made you something.” Ghost says, moving over to the table, removing the foil from one of the dishes.

You move closer, blinking in surprise. “You made...enchiladas?”

He nods. “As close as I could get with what I could find on short notice. There's rice and beans, too. And salsa.”

Tears blur your vision as you stare down at the food on the table. It smells delicious and that's not just your ravenous pre-heat hunger talking. “You...did this for me?”

“Well, I had help,” He says, looking past you.

You turn, Soap and Gaz standing at the windows that frame the door to the rec room. They smile and wave at you as you turn to look at them. A quiet laugh leaves your mouth as you smile at them.

“Help yourself.” Ghost says as you turn back to the table. “There's plenty.”

You serve yourself a plate, nearly melting off the chair as you take the first bite. It takes you all the way back home, the good years when your father was stationed in Texas.

“Taste okay?” Ghost asks, watching you. “I know it's not authentic, but I did a lot of research.”

“It's amazing, Ghost. Really.” You say. “Tastes just like the ones my mom would make.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs, looking almost bashful. “It's the least I could do. I know how big of a deal heats are to omegas and how nervous you've been. Thought you could use a little comfort.”

You smile softly. “That means a lot.” You can't help but giggle softly. “I knew you liked me deep down.”

He gives you a look, making you giggle even more. “Don't push it.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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hoonieyun · 3 months ago

Text

dozing off... ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

when he falls asleep while you two are hanging out heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: fluff fluff fluff aaaand more fluff.. warnings: nothing really aside from kissing lol 18+

hoonieyun notes: some fluff before i dive into a shit ton of angst and drama for february LOL i hope you enjoy and as usual... not proofread hehe

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

heeseung had promised you a movie night marathon where you'd take turns choosing the movie to watch while eating your favorite snacks. the night started with american psycho because sunghoon had been talking about it nonstop and heeseung wanted to see why sunghoon liked it so much. pretty woman, then mr. and mrs. smith followed after.

the two of you have gone through 3 bowls of popcorn, a bag of honey butter chips, and endless instant ramen as you're watching the fourth movie of the night: intersellar, which was your pick.

you were well engrossed into the movie that you hadn't noticed heeseung had dozed off until you heard him snoring during a silent part of the movie.

a part of you was a little bummed that heeseung fell asleep so early into your movie night since it was only 1am and he's stayed up way later before playing games with the guys but heeseung just looked too cute cozied up under your mymelody blanket that you couldn't get upset.

you carefully peel the blanket off of you so you could clean up and get ready for bed without disturbing heeseung but just as you're about to get up a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into bed and into the warm comfort of heeseung's arms.

"don't gooo" heeseung whines while nuzzling himself into your side like you were a stuffed plushy.

"baby, i'm just gonna clean up so we can sleep, let me go." you whisper and heeseung whines and you can feel him shake his head behind you on your back. "just stay, we can clean tomorrow." he says while tightening his grip on you.

"ok, fine. but you're cleaning it up tomorrow." you say and you can feel him smile into your skin as he presses a soft kiss onto your shoulder. you pull the blanket over you as the two of you cuddle up for warmth, the movie still playing in the background but soon get drowned out by the sounds of heeseung's snores and steady heartbeat.

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

jay had been working late the last few days but every friday was date night and he vowed that he wouldn't ever miss date night. since his work schedule has been leading him to get home late, the two of you had just planned to have date night at home.

you prepared dinner so that you could eat right away when he arrived since he would be tired and then the rest of the night would be filled with looking through the box of vinyl's you bought from a record store who was selling surprise boxes of vinyl's from the 80s and 90s.

"wow, dinner was delicious, love. thank you." jay says while picking up the dishes and placing a kiss on your forehead. he offers to wash the dishes since you cooked but after a bit of convincing he decides that the dishes can wait until tomorrow so you two could get right into the second part of your night.

you pull out your record player as jay unboxes the vinyl's and his eyes widen at the sheer amount inside, "how much did you pay for this?" he asks and you tell him that the 30 vinyl's only cost you around $100.

the two of you took turns picking one out to see if you'd be familiar with the record. there were some you knew like donna summer, B52s, and sting; while jay was more familiar with other ones.

you had set lauryn hill's vinyl record into the player as you sifted through the rest of the vinyl's. jay was playing his guitar along with the song playing and at some point you realize that you couldn't hear the melodic strumming of jay's guitar.

looking up at jay to see what he was up to, you find that he's slightly slumped over, still holding his guitar, but his head was resting low as he slept. you figured that the soothing tunes of lauryn hill and his own guitar lulled him to sleep.

you didn't mind too much that this week's date night was cut short or nothing too special because you were just happy to spend time with jay regardless what the two of you were doing.

after carefully grabbing his guitar and setting it back in its stand and stacking the records back in the box, you grab a few pillows and blanket from your bedroom so you can jay could just fall asleep in the living room to lauryn hill.

you gently set jay's head on a pillow and let him get comfortable as you slip into the space in front of him, his arm instantly wrapping around you as you throw the blanket over your bodies.

"goodnight jay, i love you." you whisper as you cuddle up to him and to your surprise, jay responds; kissing your temple, "i love you too" he says and soon slumber takes over the two of you as nothing even matters by lauryn hill plays throughout your home.

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

its around 2am as you and jake are sitting on your bedroom floor building legos and watching cartoons on the tv. it was such an simple action but spending time with jake and doing something as simple as making legos and watching a show was enough for you to have a good time.

jake had bought several, and by several he bought six, legosets. some of them being infrastructures, flowers, animals, and whatever else they had at the store. jake had begged you to build legos with him and at first you didn't want to because you just got your nails done and thought it would just get in the way but to your surprise, it wasn't that hard to build the legos.

you had built a vase with orchids, a small fighter jet, and a lucky cat statue. your hands were getting a bit tired so you decided to take a break as jake continued. "you look a lot like this lego" he says, showing you a half completed legoset.

"what even is that?" you ask and he pouts and furrows his brows, "it's a dinosaur..." he mutters and you return the facial expression back at him. he later explains that he thought you looked like the dinosaur because you were wearing a green sweater and had long nails like the dinosaur's claws. "you're lucky you're cute.." you say, placing a kiss on his cheek as jake smiles at you.

shinchan was playing on the tv and you had gotten a bit too into the show. the little cartoon was so mischievous and cute that you couldn't help but get really into it. you're taking out of your thoughts when in the corner of your eye you can see jake's head drop and rise in the span of 2 seconds. and when you look at him he's blinking rapidly and trying to focus on his legoset in his hands. when he suddenly yawns your suspicions are confirmed that jake was getting sleepy.

"baby, do you wanna go to bed?" you ask and jake raises his head to look at you; his eyes big and bright as he thinks about your question. "but... the legos.." he says and you laugh at his cute behavior.

"aren't you sleepy? you look sleepy!" you explain and jake swears that he isn't. shaking his head and sitting up straight to make it seem like he wasn't tired. but his body ultimately fails him as he dozes off with the legoset slipping out of his hands and landing on the floor; causing some of the pieces to pop off.

jake jolts awake at the sound and instantly looks at you, "not sleepy, huh?" you say and jake pouts at you. "fine... let's go to bed." he says and the two of you get up and move to your mattress. snuggling under the covers as jake spoons you. "goodnight, jakey." you whisper and he kisses your cheek. "goodnight my trex.." jake responds.

"hey.." you whine, jake's giggling filling the room as you try to sleep.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

you and sunghoon were similar in a lot of ways but also different. for example, the two of you were introverted and often were outgoing with those you were most comfortable with. sunghoon sleeps early while you were a night owl, and sunghoon often made comments about how you needed to sleep earlier and you'd just make a joke about how he's like a grandpa for sleeping so early.

tonight however, sunghoon had promised that he would stay up with you to see what was so special about staying up late. in all honesty, there wasn't anything special about it. you just liked the peace that the night brought and being able to enjoy the calm.

its 10pm when you realize that sunghoon was already sleepy. 10pm wasn't very late for you but to sunghoon it was way past his "bedtime" as you liked to call it. you were simply just sitting on the couch reading a book and sipping on your tea when he plops down next to you, laying his head on your lap. "how do you stay up so late, im so sleepy" sunghoon says into your thigh, dragging out the ending of sleepy.

"i don't know babe, i just can. you should sleep, i don't know why you're so adamant on staying up late with me." you respond and he explains that he just wants to spend time with you, to see what you like to do on your alone time at the wee hours of the night so that he could bond with you more and indulge in your enjoyment.

he places a kiss on your thigh before he turns around, now facing the ceiling opposed to his face being buried into the skin of your thighs. "what are you reading?" he asks and you explain the plot, maybe a bit too much because as you're talking sunghoon's snores interrupt you.

you move the book away of your vision and it reveals a sleeping sunghoon, hugging the throw pillow close to his chest and snoring while he sleeps on your lap. you chuckle and shake your head at him, finding it funny that it isn't even midnight and he's already lost his bet with himself of staying up late with you- to which you don't mind because you liked seeing sunghoon sleep like he was your sleeping beauty.

pulling your phone out and snapping a quick photo leads to sunghoon's eyes flying open, causing you to laugh as he pouts at you for taking a photo of him. "sorry, sleepyhead. you're just too cute." you say while softly patting his head.

sunghoon smiles at your comment and goes back to snoozing as you continue reading your book. it's times like this where everything is calm, quiet, and peaceful that make you appreciate staying up late where you can enjoy the silence in the presence of your loving boyfriend.

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month ago

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Fifty Shades of Robby: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @cosmic-psychickitty @puredicks @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Lipstick (NSFW) - It's love at first blow job for Dr Robby.

Crisis - Robby has a bad day.

ASMR For The Soul - Robby doesn't sleep when you're not around.

Bunny - Robby discovers you've been keeping secrets.

Something To Complain About (NSFW) - You ignite the ire of Robby's neighbour with your bedroom noises.

Noise Cancelling - Robby discovers his neighbour keeps a spreadsheet of your antics.

Poolside - When Robby has a shitty day, he just wants to be whereever you are and usually that's the pool.

The Betting Pool - Robby discovers that his collegues have been taking bets on his relationship.

It’s Mateo that finds your Instagram. It’s under the username BaywatchBitch and the profile picture is you and Robby dressed in tiny red shorts and a blue top just like the ones from the 2017 movie. You’re both even wearing the same pair of aviators that Zac Efron is on the marketing posters.

It’s from a New Year’s Eve costume party the caption reads when he locates the picture on your feed. One you both attended with the Abbots.

“It’s like they both have this secret life that nobody knows about.” He tells Cassie as they flick through the pictures studying them with an intensity they usually reserve for their work.

Your Instagram feed it’s fifty shades of Robby.

Him sleeping on a couch they don’t recognise, his headphones on, a blanket draped over him. The caption reads ‘My heart’.

Robby wearing an old white t-shirt with Baby written in blocky, slashed writing across the front of it. An ode to Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise, a group he’s loved since the 90s. He’s in the midst of cooking lemon cake for your mother’s birthday, a dab of flour smeared across his cheek.

A reel of him out on the water at an undisclosed beach, standing on a paddle board silhouetted by the sunset.

There’s dozen’s of them all depicting a different version of Robby, one that none of them of them have seen before. A happier, healthier one.

Topless Robby hoisting himself out of a pool, Robby pulling a face because he’s gotten brain freeze from eating ice cream, Robby driving with the hint of a smile on his face somewhere up the coast.

“This is why you’re going to lose the bet.” Dana says gesturing at the phone when she catches wind of it. “It doesn’t take a neurosurgeon to see that they’re in love.”

It’s three days later that Robby comes into work with a smile on his face and a little sun burn on his nose. He has ‘Baby’ playing in his ears because he’s still riding high from the weekend the two of you have spent at Geneva-on-the-Lake.

Sun, sea and sex, there’s nothing like it.

He swings into the security office, taking his time to review the betting board. The stakes are torn between you robbing him blind and killing him mid coitus. There’s still some debate as to whether it’ll be intentional or not.

He takes the polaroid picture out of his top pocket, using one of the magnets to fix it to the board amongst the post-its.

It’s one from two days ago of you both on the beach in Ohio. You’re wearing a white lace dress with an orchid woven in your hair and he’s looking into your eyes, his lips curved up into a smile as he says I do.

Married, he writes on the bottom, his wedding ring glinting in the light from the fluorescent. March 29th 2025

Love Robby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#dr robby #dr robby x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robby robinavitch #noah wyle #robby #robby x reader

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brunchable · 7 months ago

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This is your boyfriend, Mom? | Beefy!Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Single Mom reader. Themes: Bucky getting absolutely roasted by a six and half year old baby boy. Summary: Bucky comes over and meets your very protective son for the very first time. A/N: I'm in a phase where I like Bucky interacting with kids. . .🥲

The doorbell chimes, and you pull open the door, coming face to face with a broad-shouldered figure that fills the entire doorway. Bucky’s piercing blue eyes twinkle with humor, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his posture, as if he’s unsure whether to step inside or bolt.

“You’re here!” you exclaim with a warm smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bucky murmurs, leaning in for a brief kiss before glancing around your living room nervously. “So, where’s the little guy?”

A shuffle of small feet behind you catches your attention. You turn to see your son peeking out from behind the couch, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he sizes up the man who just entered his territory.

“There he is!” You wave your hand toward your son encouragingly. “Come say hi.”

Your son doesn’t budge, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Bucky like a miniature security guard. “So, this is your boyfriend?”

You can hear the disdain dripping from each word, and Bucky’s lips twitch into an amused smile. “I guess I am.”

“Mom,” your son deadpans, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s. “This is what you’ve been hyping up? He looks like he just rolled out of bed.”

“Hey, kid, I put in a lot of effort today.” Bucky gestures to his dark leather jacket, perfectly disheveled hair, and rugged stubble. “This is my ‘I’m totally put together but still approachable’ look.”

“Approachable?” your son snorts. “With that hair? You look like a drowned dog who’s been through a tornado and then zapped by lightning.”

Bucky blinks, surprised. He looks at you, then back at your son, and his mouth quirks up in a grin. “A drowned dog, huh? That’s original. So, what’s your excuse for your hair?”

Your son’s small hands shoot up defensively to his carefully combed locks. “My hair looks great, thank you very much. I didn’t put all this mousse in for you.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Be nice,” you whisper to your son, who rolls his eyes dramatically before turning his attention back to Bucky.

“Alright, old man—”

“Old?” Bucky interjects, eyebrows lifting. “I’m still in my prime, kid. What are you, five?”

“I’m six and a half.” Your son’s voice drips with indignation, as if Bucky has committed an unforgivable crime by getting his age wrong. “And you’re still old. You probably creak when you sit down.”

Bucky shakes his head, chuckling. “I don’t creak, but your mom might tell you I’ve got a few squeaky joints, yeah.”

“Ew, don’t—don’t tell me stuff like that.” Your son makes a gagging noise and then glares up at you. “Why is he even here, Mom? You know I’m supposed to have final say.”

“You have final say?” Bucky repeats, clearly intrigued. He shifts his weight, giving the boy a once-over. “What’s your name, anyway, kid?”

“Lucas.” He squares his shoulders, a defiant lift to his chin. “Got it memorized, old man?”

Bucky nods slowly, a glint of amusement in his gaze. “Lucas, huh? Alright, Lucas, I’ll try not to forget it.”

“You better not.” Lucas looks Bucky up and down, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Mom, this guy looks like one of those 90s action figures. You know, the kind where the legs don’t bend, and they’re so top-heavy they keep falling over.”

You snort loudly, unable to hold it in, and Bucky shoots you a betrayed look.

“Kid’s got a point,” you manage to say between laughs, and Bucky shakes his head, feigning exasperation.

“Oh, really?” Bucky folds his arms across his chest, staring down at Lucas. “Well, you look like a baby duck that wandered into a windstorm. All fluffed up and ready to pick a fight, huh?”

Lucas blinks, startled for a moment before narrowing his eyes, a grin forming on his face. “Better than looking like a grumpy cat that hasn’t had its coffee yet.”

You cough to hide your laughter, and Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Grumpy cat?”

“Yeah, with all those lines between your eyebrows.” Lucas steps closer, squinting as if he’s examining a rare species. “I bet you frown at the sun, too.”

You stifle a giggle, and Bucky sighs dramatically, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Lucas.”

“Starting?” Lucas tilts his head mockingly. “I’m basically giving you a head start, ‘cause if I really didn’t like you, you’d know.”

Bucky chuckles, glancing at you. “I like him. He’s got guts.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfy, Gramps.” Lucas gestures to the couch with a flourish. “The only reason you’re even here is ‘cause Mom seems to think you’re ‘cute’ or whatever.”

“I am cute,” Bucky agrees seriously, causing Lucas’s mouth to drop open in disbelief.

“No. Way. You’ve got metal bits, and your beard is all scratchy, and—” Lucas cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to Bucky’s stomach. “And a jelly belly! Mom, did you know your boyfriend has a jelly belly?”

“What?” Bucky sputters, glancing down at himself with wide eyes. “I don’t have a jelly belly—Also this beard?” He strokes it like he’s pondering life’s great mysteries. “Your mom likes it.”

“Yes, you do!” Lucas insists, poking at Bucky’s midsection with a tiny finger. “Superheroes are supposed to be all muscle, but you’re hiding a squishy balloon in there.”

“Squishy balloon?” Bucky repeats, looking thoroughly betrayed as he turns to you.

“Lucas,” you chide gently, but your son’s eyes are wide and innocent. “Don’t be mean,” you add, fighting back laughter.

Bucky sighs and looks down at Lucas with a mock serious expression. “You know, I’m part super-soldier, part robot, and part… dad bod. It’s a package deal, kid.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Bucky’s face. “I guess that makes you a little cooler, but you’re still a metal-armed grumpy pants.”

“Metal-armed grumpy pants?” Bucky echoes, eyebrows lifting. “Wow, we’re just racking up the nicknames today, huh?”

“Yup.” Lucas grins, then frowns again, cocking his head thoughtfully. “You’re also kinda like a… metal mop. All hair up top and a shiny stick arm.”

“A metal mop?” Bucky asks, his voice filled with mock offense as he raises his eyebrows. “You’re really on a roll.”

Lucas shrugs, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “I think it suits you.”

“Well, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” Bucky says with a chuckle.

Lucas scowls, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky, you know.”

“Oh?” Bucky leans down, hands on his knees to get on eye level with Lucas. “And why’s that?”

“‘Cause Mom likes you,” Lucas mutters, eyes flickering to you and back to Bucky, a hint of protectiveness in his tone. “But if you hurt her, I’ll tell everyone you still sleep with a nightlight.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock. “What? I don’t—”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas interrupts, holding up a finger. “But I’ll tell everyone you do. Including all the Avengers.”

Bucky’s mouth opens, and then he shuts it, clearly struggling for a response. “You wouldn’t.”

Lucas just stares at him, completely unblinking. “You wanna test me, Mr. Metal Mop?”

Bucky glances at you, looking for support, but you just raise your hands innocently. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

After a long pause, Bucky leans down, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Alright, kid, name your terms.”

Lucas pretends to think for a moment, tapping his chin. “You have to play video games with me… three times. No complaints. And no quitting when I beat you.”

Bucky looks horrified. “I—”

“Deal?” Lucas extends his tiny hand with a sly grin.

Bucky glances between you and Lucas, then sighs dramatically. “Deal.”

Lucas’s grin widens. “Oh, and one more thing—if I catch you throwing the controller in frustration, I’ll know you can’t handle losing.”

Bucky stares at him, completely lost for words.

“Just a fair warning.” Lucas pats Bucky’s arm as if he’s the one doing Bucky a favor. “Welcome to the family, Mr. Jelly Belly who’s gonna get his butt kicked at Mario Kart.”

You burst out laughing, and Bucky groans, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Lucas shakes his head with a grin. “Better practice up, Grumpy Pants.”

“Practice? Against you?” Bucky scoffs, but the smile pulling at his lips betrays him. “Kid, I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

“Sure, Mr. Nightlight,” Lucas replies smoothly. “Sure.”

Bucky glances at you and then back at Lucas, a mischievous look in his eye. “You know, at this rate, you’re gonna start calling me Dad.”

Lucas pauses, then tilts his head with a confused look. “Why would I call you Dad?”

Bucky smirks. “Because you know I’ll beat you so bad at those video games, you’re gonna need a parental figure to console you.”

“Right, I can call you Dad,” Lucas’s eyes light up, and he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Only if you pay me twenty bucks a week, Dad.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “Twenty bucks?!”

“Yeah,” Lucas shrugs nonchalantly. “Think of it as a ‘dad fee.’ I’m expensive. Mom’s got good taste.”

Bucky looks at you, baffled. “Did he just—?”

“Oh, and I’ll need a ride to school every morning,” Lucas continues, holding up his fingers as he lists his demands. “And ice cream. Twice a week. But no toppings. I’m not greedy.”

Bucky bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “You really thought this through, huh?”

“Business is business,” Lucas says with a serious nod. “So, what’s it gonna be, Dad?”

Bucky blinks, then leans back and sighs dramatically. “Sorry, buddy, but I think I’ll just stick with Mr. Metal Mop.”

Lucas crosses his arms, a sly grin forming on his lips. “Your loss. Could’ve been Dad. Now you’re just gonna be the guy who cried during Shrek.”

Bucky’s shoulders slump as he glances at you, utterly defeated. “I’m doomed.”

“Yup,” you say with a grin. “But hey, at least you didn’t agree to the ‘dad fee.’”

“True,” Bucky mutters, then he turns back to Lucas, raising an eyebrow. “But for the record, I did not cry during Shrek.”

“Sure, Mr. Nightlight,” Lucas deadpans. “Sure.”

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thediaryofaurora · 7 months ago

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𖧐Kinktober - Day 3𖧐

Theme: Car sex / stranded

Pairing: Ticci Toby x colleague!reader

CW: NSFW, dry humping, f!reader, riding

Word count: 1.0k

Side note: Sorry this is late, I’ve been caught up in doctor appointments, but good news is I’m off my crutches 🧚 Also I didn’t prepare for Kinktober what so ever, burnout is going CRAZY. I’m gonna spend the weekend preparing more, but day 4 might be a little late also 💔

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

“I-I already tried, damn en-engine won’t start.” Toby huffs, putting his hands in his pockets while he leans against the trunk.

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do??”

It’s the middle of winter for fuck’s sake, walking nearly 90 miles back to the mansion would take days, probably even get you both killed in the process. You already notified Tim, but even in a car it’ll take over an hour.

“W-we might as well get back in the car. I-it’s better than standing o-out here with the wind.”

“I guess.” You grumble, opening the driver’s side door and slipping in, Toby following suit.

Being shielded from the wind and light snow is definitely better than waiting outside and getting frostbite, but the temperature in the car had still dropped once the heat was turned off.

“It’s too fucking cold for this, are you sure we didn’t pack any matches?”

“No l-lighter either.”

Sighing, you put the keys back in the ignition, hoping for any chance of it turning on.

Vrrrrr, pufk

“Piece of shit.”

You two had already been out in the cold for half an hour, having to walk back from your mission, and looking down at your hands turning a faint purple makes the situation even more urgent.

“Get in the back.” You gruff, climbing over the center console and into the backseat. Toby doesn’t hesitate to follow, if you have an idea to keep you both from freezing to death he’s open to it.

“A-are we huddling?”

He chuckles, resting against the door while you crawl on top of him. No wonder he’s not as worried about the whole ordeal as you, he’s barely cold. You nestle up against him, draping your arm around his chest with a sigh. Even though you both had known each other for a while, he’s obviously nervous, the way his rapid heart beat is thumping in your ear while you rest your head on his chest making that clear.

Trying to take in any warmth you can get, you drape your leg over his hips, then you feel it: the reason he’s so nervy.

Maybe you can help him out, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Gently you grind down on him, enough for him to not know if you actually are or if he just wishes you were. Slowly but surely you begin to add more weight, and more, and more. After a few minutes it’s noticeable the way you’re perfectly rubbing your clothed cunt against his restrained boner.

His breath starts picking up, his wood only getting harder as you make it obvious what you’re doing. Your head is still rested on his chest, his heart thumping even louder than before.

You had been doing it for a few minutes now, keeping a steady pace of dry humping this poor, desperate boy. A small whimper escaping his lips as he begins bucking his hips up into yours, moving his hands down to your ass and pulling you closer onto him, his fully hard cock now rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud.

Now you’re both grinding into each other, the friction too much to handle. You need him.

Quickly you pull off of him, letting a whine. Your knees are on either side of his hips, hastily undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. All he can do is look at you in awe, his eyes big and greedy as he watches you slip his pants down. His dick springs out, the tip already red and shining with precum. You slide off your bottoms, revealing your puffy, wet pussy. His length twitches as you position your hole above his needy cock.

Slowly you begin lower yourself onto him, his tip barely brushing your hole while it pulsates on his most sensitive part.

Toby has always been a beat it and get it over with kind of guy, not bothering to even use lotion while watching porn; so now, you slowly sliding down his girth makes it difficult not to cum immediately.

Your hole clenches around him while you take your time adjusting, his throbbing cock making you want to slam down on it. He stretches you good, but the pain can’t compare to the pure nirvana of him being inside you.

It’s half way in, just almost hitting your cervix. His heavy breaths have turned into pants, sweet little whines in between while you slide down.

“H-mghn… Y-y-y/n- please-“ His voice is a pure whine as he begs for more, his attempts to buck up into you stopped by your hands pushing his hips down to the seat.

The tip finally hit your sweet spot, your hips rolling against his as you adjust to the girth. You start picking up your pace, shamelessly riding him as you feel your high coming to a breaking point. It’s obvious his is too, his mouth agape while he pants and whimpers incoherent pleads.

Your climax comes crashing down over you, riding out your high on his twitching dick, your once freezing face now dripping with sweat. Toby came right after, his cum spilling out of you as you pulled off of him.

The car’s windows were completely unusable, the condensation too thick to see through. Small droplets of water formed and raced down, your body heats immediately filling the streak.

Toby’s dazed panting below you, eyes fluttering open and shut with every breath, his shaky hands still holding onto your hips as you lay back down with him.

A loud knock on the window startled the two of you, Tim’s voice breaking the silence.

“You better be clothed when you come out of there.”

Together you both gather your clothes and redress, stepping out of the humid vehicle into the baby blizzard. Tim’s car is pulled over to the side of the road in the distance, his headlights flashing.

You and Toby stumble behind him, your legs weak and unstable. At least you stayed warm.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

Kinktober Masterlist

Creepypasta Masterlist

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hairmetal666 · 29 days ago

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Scandal follows Eddie Munson wherever he goes. He doesn't mean for it to, it just does. And, like, sure, he should've known that cavorting with a bunch of topless models in a hot tub in a chalet in the Swiss Alps was a bad idea, but 1) he's gay and 2) even if he wasn't, does anyone really care if a rockstar has an orgy these days?

Well, it turns out that they do. They do so much, in fact, that he hasn't known a moment's peace since the photos leaked. Every time they go outside, they're mobbed. Their socials are a disaster zone.

Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak are sick of his shit, worried that this will ruin the world tour, which doesn't make any sense. All publicity is good publicity, right?

Anyway, he's not surprised when he, Chrissy, and the rest of the band are whisked away in a fancy car with dark-tinted windows, thinks they're about to fly home for a break. And honestly? Good riddance to Europe.

Imagine his surprise when he exits the car mere feet away from the sun soaked Mediterranean.

"Oh no. No, no, no." He says, trying to force his way back into the sedan.

"Oh, yes." Chrissy links her arm with his. "You need to lay low for a few days and this was the best I could manage on short notice."

He glares. "You know I hate boats."

"You do not," Gareth accuses.

"You're just mad at facing consequences for your actions," Jeff adds.

"I didn't do anything!" He wails.

Freak pulls out his phone, reads, "Munson, 26, has always been open about being gay, out of the closet since Corroded Coffin's first gig. Now, though, his sexuality is in question. Multiple women have come forward to claim they slept with the rockstar. And, while many of the women in the photo have said that Munson was 'deeply uninterested' in them, the fact remains that his antics are more Motley Crue than Troye Sivan."

Eddie groans up at the sky. "Why would I be anything like Troye Sivan!? I'm in a heavy metal band! And he's around boobies all the time! Honestly, has no one been to a rave?"

"Not since the 90's." Chrissy smiles brightly, continues up the dock.

"I'm never forgiving any of you for this."

"It's a luxury yacht, Eddie. You'll survive," Gareth says.

He very bravely does not point out that he's wearing black jeans and an over-sized black hoodie and black platform Doc Martens, so obviously he's not the type of person equipped for any kind of boat.

The conversation ends but only because, when they get up to the main deck and the crew waiting for them, he sees the most beautiful man in the world. Artfully messy sun-bronzed hair, strong jaw, classic nose, skin dotted with freckles. Aviators hide his eyes, but even the sunglasses look good on him. Not to mention the little white uniform that shows off all of his many many muscles.

Eddie stares at him, blatantly, unabashedly, totally missing the introduction to the rest of the crew.

As soon as he's left to his own devices, he locks himself in his cabin. Not even the chance to gawk at that hot guy can draw him out of his pout. They can force him onto a boat, but they can't make him enjoy it.

He lasts until afternoon the next day, when Jeff barges in, surprising him enough that the throws his phone with a very un-rockstar yelp.

"You have to come out." Jeff's arms are crossed over his chest.

"Nope." Eddie relaxes back into his pillows. "Not until this is over."

"So, you're going to stay in your room for a week?"

"Guess so."

"Orr, you could come out and enjoy yourself instead of pouting over what your own actions caused."

"My actions!" He shrieks. "My actions! I stumbled on a bunch of topless French models in a hot tub, and I'm at fault?"

"No, you being drunk enough to get in with them was the problem."

"I wasn't even that drunk! I just thought it was funny. They did too!"

Jeff sighs. "You get yourself into a situation more than any person I've ever met."

"See? It's not my fault."

"I mean. It kind of is. I suspect any other guy would learn how to avoid this."

"I'm not leaving."

"Man, Chrissy isn't going to let you stay in here."

"Too bad."

"She told me to carry you out, if I had to."

"You wouldn't."

"If you come out, you can chat up the cute bosun."

"The bos-what?"

"Bosun. The guy you were ogling when we boarded. His name is Steve. He's really nice. He--"

"I was not ogling him."

"Eddie. You looked like you wanted to eat him for dinner."

"I'm not leaving the room." He sing-songs.

Look, would he have fought so hard if he'd known that Jeff was strong enough to toss him over his shoulders and fireman-carry him out of the room and up the stairs? He would not.

Instead, he screams the whole way from his cabin to the deck, where he's unceremoniously deposited into a lounge chair next to Chrissy. She's in a hot pink bikini, sipping a cocktail.

"Good to see you." She deadpans.

He glares. "Et tu, Chrissy?"

From behind him, a rich voice calls out, "Glad you could join us." It is, of course, the hot bosun. He waves when he catches Eddie looking in his direction.

Eddie sinks down in the lounger, Chrissy stifling giggles against her elbow.

---

The thing is, Steve is nice. He's nice and he's funny and he's hardworking. He's good with the other deckhands, Dustin, Max, and Lucas; strict but fair and good at keeping everyone on task. The stewards, Nancy, Robin, and El, all love him. Sometimes, he'll be down on all fours scrubbing the deck, and his t-shirt will bunch up, reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taunt stomach that makes Eddie feel like a feral dog.

He's out on the top deck reading a copy of The Hobbit that Dustin loaned him, when Steve comes around the corner.

"Oh! Eddie, hey." Steve smiles. "Didn't realize there were any guests still up here."

"Do you need me to move?" He asks. He swings his feet over the side of the lounger.

"Not at all. Just wasn't expecting you." Steve's puttering around, picking up the detritus of the day. "I'm glad we've been able to overcome your expectations of boats."

His squeak is indignant. "It wasn't about the boat! I was brought here against my will!"

Steve smiles at him, eyes glittering. "Yeah, what a horrible punishment, boarding a luxury yacht for a Mediterranean cruise."

Eddie grabs at his chest, mimes being shot in the heart. "Stevie, how could you? All this time I thought you were on my side."

"Eh," he shrugs. "You were kind of being a baby."

He falls off the lounger at this. "The killing blow," he wails.

Laughing, Steve extends a hand, helps him to his feet. Their eyes meet and Eddie's struck, once again, by the way the hazel shines so gold, even at twilight.

"I'm being punished," he says, looking away.

"Again, getting on a chartered yacht for a week is not much of a punishment."

"I have a tendency to find myself involved in shenanigans."

"The topless women," Steve says.

Eddie groans. "You know about that?"

Steve does a real bitchy thing with his eyebrows that makes Eddie very warm in places it shouldn't. "Everyone knows about it."

"Okay. I'll have you know those boobs meant nothing to me, which is why it was fine! We had fun! Also, I am very, very gay. Like. The gayest."

"Oh, I know." Steve grins.

He doesn't know what to do with that. Changes the subject instead. "I hadn't clocked you for someone who listened to our stuff."

"I don't. Or well. Not really. No offense. The kids love you guys. And Robin. It's just--it's really loud? Not really my thing. Some good lyrics, though."

"No, I get it." He nods, licks his lips. "I write most of our songs." He's not sure why he says it, what he hopes to get from it.

"I know," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie smiles down at his hands, The Hobbit. Before he can say more, Chrissy calls him down for dinner.

---

It's no secret that the Corroded Coffin boys are diehard dnd fans. They've done interviews about it, posted video of their sessions on YouTube and TikTok. Everyone knows they play, everyone knows Eddie DMs, so, he supposes, it's only a matter of time before Dustin and Lucas asks if he would DM for them.

The band, Chrissy, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, El, and Robin all agree to play. When asked, Captain Hopper snorts, doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, and Steve tells Dustin, "You know nothing in the world will make me play that game, kid. I'll try to stop by, though."

Eddie is totally in his element, everyone is having a blast, even Captain Hopper stops by. And Steve--he shows up after fifteen minutes, stays the whole time, can't keep his eyes off Eddie. He's not sure if it spurs him on, makes him more wild and dramatic, but the game is electric, the mood high.

It's an amazing night, one of the best of Eddie's life, and that's really saying something. They go late, well into the morning, but he's too hyped to sleep. He's pacing across the deck when Steve appears.

"You were great tonight." He says.

Eddie feels like he's effervescing. "You should think about playing sometime."

"Nah." Steve ducks his head a little. "Wouldn't be the same without you leading."

There's not a ton of space separating them, but he closes the distance anyway. "That could be arranged," he says, voice low.

"Yeah?" Steve meets his eyes, doesn't look away.

"If you want."

The air between them goes heavy, tightens, the silence lengthens.

"I can't," Steve breathes. "I'm working."

"No, yeah," Eddie nods. He steps back, runs his hand through his hair. He's never said no to something like this, never to someone like Steve. "I'm avoiding--"

"Situations." Steve finishes.

"Oh, but, Stevie, you're a situation I want very much."

"Take me on a date tomorrow."

"It would be my pleasure," he says.

He should leave but--he does love an occurrence, so he lets the impulsivity fly-- leans forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.

"Tomorrow, sweetheart."

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yandere-wishes · 9 months ago

Text

Alice in Marvel-land

𐙚Yandere! Deadpool (Wade Wilson) x Reader x Yandere Wolverine (Logan Howlett)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ In some worlds, you were Logan's little darling. In others, you were Wade's starry-eyed lover. But here in the void, there is only one of you and two of them.

⁀➷ GORE, yandere behavior, kidnapping, Deadpool being Deadpool.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ IDK, probs the Deadpool and Wolverine soundtrack

Logan feels the world slipping away.

Piece by piece, atom by atom.

In a blink, he's falling down darkness.

An endless rabbit hole.

What was the name of that fairy tale you liked so much?

The one with the girl who gets lost in splendor?

The dust is kicking up, framing the sunset portrait along the horizon.

The envoys are nearly home, this time they've brought someone back. The cage balls chime along the unsteady road. If you squint just far enough you can almost make out vibrant specks of red and yellow.

Strange, the void tends to wash out bright colors. Well, it tends to wash out just about everything.

You scrape your nails along the skeleton's sockets. Leave crescents in the decaying cartilage. "They're almost here" you call out awaiting Cassandra's next move. You watch dolefully as she's transfixed on a portal. The sparky thing unfurled like a fresh wound, strewing salt on persistent lacerations. She watches her brother, or well some variation of her brother. Surrounded by his new family, surrounded by those he loves. He's forgotten her, or maybe never even knew her. You think that the latter would hurt the most.

"Cassandra" Your voice rises in octave, this time getting her attention. "They're here".

"Coming" She sings, voice so chip it almost sounds like unshed tears. You send a final glare at the portal before it collapses on itself.

If you tried hard enough, maybe you could bring yourself to understand her pain. Those pesky notions of desperation for someone to love. But it

doesn't matter now everyone you've ever loved is dead anyway. And unlike Cassandra, you've long since given up on the childish dreams of being rescued by someone who would offer up love so freely.

"Maybe shut up now"

Logan's nerves are frying. Thin strings snapping with every syllable that leaves the red merc's mouth. He's starting to appreciate Stryker in a way he didn't even know he could. The man was a psychotic sadist but at least he knew when to sew someone's mouth shut. Maybe he can convince this Cassadra chick to do the same.

Logan's eyes are almost at 90 degrees of a roll when they stop. He stops, frozen. In the gaping mouth of the rotting skull, something all too familiar stands.

Or rather someone.

Someone he knew.

Someone he loved.

Your name tastes bitter on his tongue. All death and whisky.

Maybe cause it's been so long since the attack. Since he walked off for the night and left his family to die. Cause the last time he saw you, you were a mangled corpse laying in an open grave. Deadweight as he cradled you in his arms.

You walk closer. Face painted in too many shades of confusion.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Damn, he's started quoting that stupid book again.

"How do you know my name" You ask. You look just as beautiful as he remembers. Spine carved straight in pride with perfect lips, perfect eyes. His talons itch to glide across your soft skin, to feel you so intimately once more.

"LOOOGAN did you see what the bald chick just- HEY!!"

It takes too much effort to pull his gaze away. To stare at red and black and be reminded of cruel realities. But Wade has a tendency to be a persistent ache, some unwelcomed anchor to every problem he's ever had.

Only this time when he actually looks at him. Looks at the jittery body that's stilled abruptly. He can't help but be glad that he did. A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Maybe Wade's shut up for good this time.

He always knew you were special but this is truly a miracle.

"IT'S YOU!!"

Nope, didn't work. He knew he couldn't be that lucky.

Wade whispers your name, a forgotten prayer. Logan didn't even know the loudmouth knew how to pray. But he seems to almost soften when he sees you. That feral, cheeky killer, looks so so soft when he stares into your doe-eyes. Reaching out zealously to twirl a lock of your hair around his blood-soaked finger.

He can almost feel Wade choking on your essence, heart erratic, like a child finding a lost toy. He's drowning in ecstasy, and Logan is almost tempted to join him. You're here, a breath away. So close it's taking every ounce of self-control not to pull you to his chest and keep you locked between his arms until he finally dies too.

"Penunt look that's my girl!!"

"Your girl!?"

He had taken you for granted as he tends to do with most peaceful things. The realization had occurred a little too late. Right as he had been emptying a round into the target of the week's head.

He lands.

Arms high like an Olympian pleasing the crowd.

He wonders if he can make you cheer for him.

Clap and shout his name as he twirls around the mess he's made.

He wants to feel loved, although he'll never say it out loud. He's only ever been good with words when they're laced with sarcasm and profanity.

And maybe 'I love you' is just about the most obscene thing he can ever say to someone as sweet as you.

Wade plays the white rabbit, fluffy coat stained red from every kill. Tricking poor Alice into following him down cruel rabbit holes. Making you chase him through labyrinths then leaving you at every turn. He leads you to every kill, makes you watch as he dances in slaughter. He can even feel your eyes right now. Starlight slicing him open to quench vulgar interests.

Alice always follows the rabbit.

He stalks closer, white eyes fixated on your deliciously bewildered expression. Precious thing caught in a warzone. He can almost taste you on his tongue, the sharp tip of a star slivering the inside of his mouth, soft hands painting crescent moons along the back of his neck. He needs to carve his essence across your lips, to pour the after-kill adrenaline into your soul. He needs you.

Only this time...

This time he'd been too distracted. So caught up in claiming you as his victory prize that he didn't notice the grizzled man clinging to life...

And a pistole.

The bullet punctures his shoulder. An afterthought.

But the lead keeps going.

Penetrating the air until it lands bunglingly between your eyes.

You fall into his arms.

Deadweight.

Did the white rabbit ever miss Alice?

Did he ever realize how truly special such a curious girl made him feel?

He doubts it.

Doubts that a stupid rodent would have better emotional stability than him.

He's been given a second chance. A whole plethora of them actually. He's been deemed holy, righteous. And aren't gifts of marvel bestowed upon the truly blessed? What better blessing than the sight of you standing amongst the sand and skulls?

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

He lets the blood trickle down his claws.

What else is there to do but dream of you?

It's the fourth day of his massacre and he's lost count of how many humans he's killed. Maybe cause after the first hundred the faces tend to blur.

He leaves your pleasants in between the rotting carcasses and broken glass. Only taking the torturous parts of you. The things that can hurt him. The sharp edges that he can slit his pulse point on, the vague memory of your glare before you cried. The soft skin of your neck between his jagged teeth.

Enough to keep the hate burning.

He wonders if the creatures of Wonderland wept after Alice left. He wonders if Wonderland lost its wonder.

But now you're standing here.

Alive.

And he wants so badly to remember the sweet taste of your lips. The soft push against his chapped lips as he swallows you whole. Even desperate rabbits can go a little feral. His eyes take in every breath, every scowl.

Alive.

Good to see your affinity for dainty dresses spans across all universes...

Aliath skids forward, mystified in lightning and smoke. You feel your bones collapsing under the rugged man's, Logan's, vice grip. You thrash and scream trying to break free but he only barks out orders to his friend before they take off running.

"Your safe, don't worry we got you." There's a comedic cadence to every word Wade says. You can almost fool yourself into enjoying it if the two weren't actively attempting to defy Cassandra, to defy Aliath, to defy deities and absolutes. To ripe you away from the only semblance of opulence you've come to know.

"Let me go, you custome-wearing freaks." His gripe tenses. "Don't struggle so much, we said you're safe, now hold still" Logan's anger ripples through you. It's almost muscle memory to still, to obey.

Did you know him? Know them?

In some past life too out of reach?

The ground shutters to a jagged rhythm. You're flying up, escaping the misty horrors of the ground. Your head pounds with the force, air slapping across your body as you taste the cotton of the clouds between your teeth.

Is this how Alice felt as her head hit the roof?

Wade mutters about the stars and educated wishes. About people who live and matter. Logan slices through his thigh, the mercenary's optimism making his body ring with phantom pains.

No one matters.

And when they start to, they die.

There are cruel absolutes in this world. He's tasted them all. Let them slice his tongue and heart and danced to every tune they've sung. He rips his claws out and digs them into Wade's chest.

Again

And again.

Wade savors the salty tang of blood inside his mouth.

Licks his teeth and runs his tongue over the gaping holes.

He's sitting in the front seat head rolled back.

High off the blood and adrenaline and the thought of having you so close.

"I take it all back, the Honda odysseys fucks hard"

Bones crack, interrupted mid-heal as Logan turns his head to glare. "Shut up" he rasps and Wade almost, almost, hears approval.

There's a low moan reverberating across the broken car. Late night sleepy mumble that's half 'I love you' and half 'I need you'. Neither one has heard it in such a long time.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty? Kinda surprised you could sleep through all of that" Wade shimmies to the back, only to be greeted by your foot smashing into his face, cracking his nose open, and sending a fresh wave of blood into his mouth. He pins your knee to the seat and wiggles himself between you. caging you with his elbows as he stares down at your pretty face. "Miss me, angel baby?"

"Wrong fairy tale" Logan turns around in his seat, claws out running them across your cheek "Please stop, just let me go" you've never begged before, never fallen so low. But these two things, mutants, mutates, or whatever they are, scare you. Reckless, suicidal, dangerous. You feel so helpless in their presence. Never knowing you're to be kissed or killed.

"You're as lovely as I remember" The melancholy colors him in a monochrome of sympathy. Here is a man who's gone through every horror and still gets out of bed. Or maybe he has to, maybe he can't quite die and can't quite reach heaven. So he gulps down his immortality with black coffee to at least pretend he's being buried six feet deep. "Even after all this time I still love you" You almost melt in his brown eyes. So lonely, so desperate.

Kill or kiss

You want him to do both. Want to kiss extinction on his lips while being impaled by the claws. Kill or kiss.

Both, both, both.

"You know~" Wade pushes himself up, "I think your dress should be red...and black. To match your favorite man."

"Who the hell said you were the favorite?" Wade leans forward, in a blink he's gripped Logan's wrist and lunged the Wolvarine's claws into your abdomen.

You writhe, the bones and metal feel almost heavenly inside of you. When he retracts the claws you moan out, it's too saccharine to hold back. Everything feels so much lighter, colorful. You feel your essence slipping out, gushing over the back seat.

Red waterfall, so pretty.

Dress stained red.

"Told ya so!"

Wade pulls you roughly by the shoulders and smashes his lips against yours. He's so cute, fickle Cheshire cat, tongue dancing across your mouth, slitting itself on your peaked teeth, and filling your mouth with thick red caterpillar smoke. "What the hell is wrong with you? You really are God's perfect idiot" Logan's anger is tangible, sweet, and bitter like hatter tea at midnight.

"S'okay Logan, it feels nice" Your words slur, slipping gauche from your tongue as you giggle profusely. You feel like Alice cracking open Wonderland's ribs, crawling inside, and smearing the wonder across your face.

"When I used to read fairy tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one" You've heard these words before, Alice's words. she's right. Your fairy tale is painted red with pretty, crazy, princes who think that slicing open a princess is easier than kissing her. You reach out for Logan, desperate for a kiss. "eat me" you mutter, and Logan's face morphs into pure terror "Wade what the hell have you done to her?".

"What? It's better this way trust me"

"I hate you"

Logan bends, meeting you halfway. He kisses you with all the wary of a dead man walking. All teeth and heart and bitter memories left to rot three lifetimes ago. He pushes himself between your bones, trying to carve out his ethos in your body. He'd burn the world so long as he gets to keep you.

You squeeze your thighs around Wade's muscular thighs and hips unlocking a gibby giggle from the man. His mask is half pulled up as he trails sloppy fervorous kisses across your neck and chest. The nostalgia slithering under your skin has you squirming, you've been through this all before. In a past life somewhere where storm monsters and voids don't exist. "Remember how good this feels?" Wade mumbles as his fingers dig into your puncture wounds, drawing slow, desperate moans from your puffy lips. You don't dare answer you don't know what would be worst admitting to liking the loudmouth ministrations or admitting there were other versions of you out there, other happy versions.

"Oh for hell's sake," Logan reclines the front seat and shuffles closer. Pulling down the back of your dress. His kisses are bite marks in disguise rabid and feral, the two things the man will never escape. His name rolls across your tongue, you let it slip in an airy moan. "No fair " Wade complains "I want you to say my name too." He pulls out his baby knife and etches the skin of your thighs. Scribbling doodles of stars and half hearts and the little symbol he wears on his belt. "W-wade" you gasp never knowing whether to scream in pain or giggle in bliss.

Logan laughs into your neck. You didn't even know he was capable of such a gentle thing. You bite his lip playfully. Dragging your fingers across his muscular arms. Your thumb pushes into the space between his knuckles asking for the claws. For the most macabre parts of him. You glide your tongue across the parish where flesh meets metal. Kissing the metal and bones and lapping at the blood. Watch curiously as he draws out a long airy sigh. "Good girl" he mumbles voice marred with ecstasy and you almost see the ghost of a smile smear across his pretty lips.

Wade's thumb gently rubs against your hips. Softly usering you into peace, tranquility. Your eyes get heavy, the car gets blurry. The grotesque realignment of their bones steering you into a deep, content sleep.

"Hey Peanut, you think Alice in Wonderland here would mind if we keep going? "

"Shut it, moron "

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if only I knew how to begin.”

🎀Bonus

Deadpool: "Do you think the author's going to write about us again? Or is she planning to finally write that Dune fic she keeps talking about?

Wolverine: "I have no fucking idea what the hell you're even talking about.

🪐@yandere-romanticaa @bad4amficideas @sugarplumz100 @oscarissac2099 @facelessfionna @siphite @tocotuesday69 @linoleunm @mei-simp @shamelessdarkprince @gabriqllas @lovely-liliacs @shiroi-asashin17 @failinguniversity

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hockey-for-hotties · 9 days ago

Text

opposites attract ⏐ l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x afab!reader genre: fluff ⎜ strangers-to-lovers ⎜ he falls first ⎜college au ⎜slow burn? ⎜ warnings: mentions of a shitty old ex ⎜protective Luke ⎜ Sick Luke ⎜ not much tbh ⎜mentions of Luke naked but not in a sexual way synopsis: you're not quite sure what to make of the oversized golden retriever defence man, especially when he asks for your help to pass his upcoming exams. word count: 11.3k authors note: this took me a really long time to write and I was not expecting to enjoy writing it so much but I really did - so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. (UNEDITED)

You remember the first time you saw him. You had been locked up in the library for hours, your notebooks scattered around you, your pens all over the table, two highlighters had already made it into the bin, and your laptop was begging for a charger.

The library is quiet, it usually is around this hour - especially on a Friday night - just late enough that most students have given up and gone home to either finish their study or not do anything at all - but it was still early enough that it wouldn’t have you questioning all your life choices the next morning. The overhead fluorescents had been switched out for the small individual table lamps on each table - your usual table, the third from the back, right under the large window letting the soft moonlight in.

Your laptop flashes the red warning again, begging you to plug it in. You oblige letting out a soft groan as you heft your tote bag onto the table and begin digging around for the white chord, only pausing when movement in the corner of your eye catches your attention - the library was almost completely empty, bar a few students littered around the stacks of books who were definitely not studying if the soft breaths were anything to go by - so what was this lanky, clearly overgrown, drank too much milk as a child, obvious athlete doing in here - at nine pm no less, no one comes in here after eight.

You relax a little at the soft ‘bing’ of your laptop being plugged in, the warning disappearing instantly as you take in the new intruder. He was clearly an athlete, that wasn’t a secret, he was completely decked out in the u-mich sweats and shoes, the backpack slung over his shoulders looked heavy but it was clear that no one had used it since it was bought at the start of the year - the fabric looking almost coated with dust from sitting in a cupboard or under a bed for too long.

You watch him as he looks around the library, his eyes darting between the shelves widening as they spot the couple that had been there all night, half mounting each other and his cheeks glow a bright pink as he turns back to the table, his eyes locking on yours and a smile spreading on his face.

“Hey, you must be the tutor?” He says quickly as he shuffles over to your table, dropping his bag on the table with a loud bang, startling the librarian at the front desk, who just shakes her head and goes back to reading the ’90s romance she had been nursing for the past few hours.

“I’m sorry?” You ask slowly, watching as he pulls his notebooks out of his bag, each book looking newer than the last one, also clearly unused despite being three-quarters of the way into the year. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The athlete pauses for a moment, staring down at you with confusion before letting out a soft laugh.

“Ha, ha, very funny - I’m Luke, the guy that called you the other day, because of the flyer in the student athlete building.” He shakes his head as he laughs again, thinking your ‘antics’ were the funniest thing he’d seen all day. You continue to just watch as he settles into the seat across from you, your brow furrowed and your head cocked to the side as it all seems to click in his head. “You’re not the tutor.” He says quietly, almost completely to himself, his cheeks flushing back to the burning pink colour they were before.

“I’m not.” You confirm, trying to stop the upturn of your lips as you watch him flounder for a second, his eyes looking over your work spread across the table, and the way he had thrown his books over the top.

“I am so sorry — I shouldn’t have just assumed…” He starts as he tries to gather his stuff, the flush spreading down his neck as he fumbles, a few of his pens falling to the floor as he scrambles after them, “come to think of it I’m pretty sure I spoke to a dude.” He mumbles to himself as he places his pens back on the table, looking awkward as he bends over to pick up the rest.

“Luke?” You say quietly, wanting to stop the chaos happening in front of you as quickly as possible. His head perks up at his name, his blue eyes wide, his curls bouncing as he turns to face you.

“You know my name?”

“You did say it like five minutes ago.” You correct, clearing your throat before leaning further over the table to grab hold of his textbook. “You’re in 102 ECON?” You question, flipping through the book that looks like it was pulled from its packet a total of twenty minutes ago - the book unmarred by any obvious study. He nods in response to your question, managing to gather his fallen pens before sliding back into the seat across from you, “I can probably help you with this — what do you need the most help with?”

“Everything?” He lets out a chuckle as he raises a hand to scrub at the back of his neck — you shoot him a smile in sympathy before flicking the textbook to chapter one.

“You know that the ‘student’ comes first in student athlete, right?” You tease, watching the blush rise on the tips of his ears, enjoying the way he seems to get so flustered so easily.

“Wait, so you’ll help me?” He asks for clarification, his brows pinched in confusion. “I can pay you, the other guy wanted two hundred per session.” He says reaching into his bag and pulling out his wallet, not noticing your agape mouth at the number he threw out.

“Well he was severely overcharging.” You say, straightening your posture, as you scoot your chair around the table, sliding the textbook between the two of you as you scoot by his side, “I will take a drink or snack every time you come here though.”

“I can do that.” He agrees quickly, focusing his attention quickly on the textbook as you try to do a crash course in each chapter to see where he’s up to. It takes three hours, and the librarian coming to shut down your session before you have a good idea of where to start on the rest, Luke is by no means dumb and picking up most things pretty quickly, but he only remembers the basics of chapter one and you only have three weeks till his exam to get him through the next five chapters.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” He says softly as the two of you exit the library, your books bundled in your arms, his back in his brand new backpack with notes on what to read through before the next time you meet up.

“It’s fine, I have a soft spot for people in need.” You say, glancing down at your phone as it rings the last name you want to see lighting up the screen.

“Are you going to answer that?” He asks quickly, as you shove your phone back into your pocket.

“No.” You respond, already getting annoyed by the constant buzzing of the phone in your pocket, you begin to walk down the stairs of the library, your dorm only five minutes from the large building. “Remember, I want a hot chocolate on Wednesday.” You remind him, watching as he types it in his phone, before you begin walking back to your dorm, not looking back to notice the way he walks slowly behind you, his attention completely on his phone hoping you wouldn’t turn around to ask him why he was following you - maybe you would think his dorm was this way too - he follows you until he’s sure you reach your dorm building before he starts his own way home in the opposite direction.

Despite not expecting to hear from Luke again - your phone had almost been set ablaze by how often it was lighting up with text messages from him over the weekend — though you weren’t able to contain your surprise that he was actually continuing on with the work you had asked him to do before your next meet up.

Luke (library guy): read through chapter two! I’ve written all my questions so we can go through them on Wednesday.

Luke (library guy): Is there anyway we can meet up on Monday as well? My questions are at least two pages long.😫

Luke (library guy): things are getting out of hand…send help. 🙃 I’ve never studied this much in my life.

Luke (library guy): I know you’re reading these — if you’re going to ignore me at least try a little harder, or turn off your read receipts ☹️

You leave another message on read, as you tuck your phone back into your pocket - your headphones over your ears and a stack of marked quizzes tucked closely to your chest as you wander through the campus, making your way to the 102 ECON class you assist with — hoping to god it’s not the session Luke is in. To be completely honest, you had assumed that the second you had entered your dorm room after the night in the librar,y you’d be receiving a text from Luke asking to rain check — he was an athlete after all, they weren’t really known to stick to a schedule outside of their sport.

You glance up at the looming building in front of you, letting out a long sigh at the thought of suffering thorough yet another lecture you had already heard, and then getting stuck with all the questions from the upperclassmen who clearly thought this class would be an easy pass when they signed up for it two years ago. The freshmen were usually fine, barely asking questions, still going about their college lives without the pressure of impending failure — it was the juniors and seniors who were still stuck in the same class for the third - or fourth-year - in a row that tended to give you the biggest headaches.

You walk through the open classroom door, shoving your headphones off the top of your head until they sit comfortably on your neck, adjusting the quizzes in your arm before plopping them on top of the small second desk towards the front of the room. The classroom is half full when you arrive, the room buzzing with conversation and the occasional squeaking of someone taking a seat, you keep your head down as you arrange the quizzes before moving them to the professors desk — preparing to mentally disappear before anyone can ask you questions about the lesson for the day, until you hear it - the soft calling of your name.

“Pst, over here.” The first whispers of your name, seem to quiet most of the crowd, your body tensing as you glance up from the professors desk, it’s hard to miss Luke in his - what you think is typical - u mich hoodie, his curls bouncing against his head, seeming longer then they were last week when you last saw him, his hand raised in an enthusiastic wave. All dreams and hopes of Luke not being in this session are quickly sucked out the still open door, maybe you have a chance to make an escape?

“I didn’t know you were in this class.” Luke calls out, and as he’s sitting in the fifth row back, he really does “call” out to you. You can’t help the way your mouth falls open a little, your eyes darting around the class and the sudden attention on you, your eyes moving back over to Luke as his friend sitting besides him elbows him in the ribs, Luke’s hand falling down to hold his side, his gaze turning a glare on the boy sitting next to him.

“Dude, she’s not in the class, she’s the TA.” His friend scolds him in a very loud whisper, the grimace spreading across your face as you try to ignore the two of them.

“Well, how was I meant to know that?” Luke hisses back, his friend rolling his eyes and leaning back against his chair.

“Maybe if you’d been in class more than once a week, you would have known that.” You let out a long sigh as you sink into your chair besides the professors desk, sending the older gentleman a smile as he enters the room, thanking you as he picks up the quizzes from last week, and beginning to pass them out to the class, the flash of a D+ on Luke’s quiz flashing through your memory.

Luke (library guy): My kind, thoughtful, handsome and very single friend Ethan, has very gently brought it to my attention that I may have made you uncomfortable - for that I apologise.

You glance up when your phone buzzes on your desk, reading the message before glancing up towards the fifth row, seeing the two boys gathered around Luke’s phone, the message clearly thought of by the objectively good-looking man beside Luke, who shoots you what looks to be a genuinely apologetic smile. “It makes you seem smart.” You only just catch Ethan whispering to Luke, neither of them having much volume control now that the room is quieting down.

“No, it just makes you look like an idiot,” Luke replies, tucking the phone back into his pocket with a shake of his head, his eyes catching yours once more, the smile dropping off his face, as you look away, focusing yourself on sliding into your chair and reorganising your already organised desk. You don’t look up again throughout the lecture - you try not to anyway - keeping your eyes trained on your laptop in front of you, just barely listening to the lecture, and maybe occasionally sneaking a glance up at the fifth row, pleasantly surprised to see Luke very intently taking notes in his notebook - the one he had sent you photos of, covered in an increasingly more chaotic chicken scratch throughout the weekend.

You're halfway through your own sports psychology assignment when you hear the professor start wrapping up his lecture, deciding now is a better time than any to pack up your stuff and hope to make a quick escape once the class is done. Your laptop is only just in your bag when the professor draws all the attention back to you, “Now remember everyone has my email and the email of my wonderful TA this semester in their inbox, please let us know if you have any more questions, have a good week, everyone.” You curse quietly under your breath as you give the professor a tight-lipped grin, the kind old man none the wiser to the frustration deep in your soul at the idea of being the centre of attention once again.

You shove the last of your stuff into your tote bag, taking a quick glance at the class, glad to see Luke busy packing up his own bag as you beeline for the door, your exit seamless as you thread between the flood of students, just making it to the building exit as you hear him call out for you again, “Hey— wait.” Luke seems breathless as he reaches you, just as you push open the heavy glass doors, joining you in the chilly winter air, your arms crossing over your chest as you frown at the cold. “Are you just pretending I don’t exist now or what?” He asks, his long legs making it easy for him to keep up with your fast walking, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his hold.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you back there.” Luke starts, letting out another pant as his left hand releases its strap, grabbing hold of the shoulder of your coat, pulling you to a stop. “Give me a second, you walk really fast.” He says as he takes in a few big gulps of air. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you—” He starts again, another breath, “I was just excited to see you there, no wonder you knew so much about ECON.” He clarifies, his cheeks resuming their normal flush of pink, his gaze following yours to where his hand still holds onto your coat, his hand dropping like you burned him with a quick “oh, sorry.”

“You didn’t embarrass me, Luke.” You say softly, trying your hardest to shoot him a reassuring smile, as you straighten out the wrinkle in your coat. “I was just a little surprised that you were so eager to greet me.” You try to explain, Luke’s head nodding as he cringes, sucking in air between his teeth, before his face relaxes into its usual soft smile.

“I was a little loud wasn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say discretion is a forte of yours.” You joke back, letting out a soft chuckle as he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck, his teeth trapping his bottom lip as he seems to relax a little.

“So we’re still on for studying on Wednesday night?” He asks quickly, his hands returning to their place on the straps of his bag as you nod slowly.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Good, cause I didn’t understand anything the teacher said today.” You let out another soft laugh before promising him you’d go over it during your study session, Luke hovers for a moment not quite taking the hint that you’re conversation was over, you look up at him, an eyebrow raised as you wait for him to continue, seeing straight through him to the way his mind seemed to be running a hundred miles a minute.

“Ethan wrote that text.” He blurts, his face seeming almost shocked that the words came out, but your lips just tilt up in amusement.

“I figured. He was really selling himself there.”

“Well he’s not kind or thoughtful so don’t look too much into it.” Luke huffs, his body seeming to radiate frustration as he thinks back to the text message.

“Luke, don’t think so much, it’s not a good look on you.” You say quickly, reaching a hand out to gently squeeze his arm, watching as his frustration dissolves into shock, his eyes shooting down to where you had barely touched his hoodie. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He barely has a chance to react as you step away from him, tucking your tingling hand into your coat pocket before quickly rushing off to your next lecture, barely able to focus throughout your own lessons as your mind keeps floating back to the awkward athlete.

The library is quiet when you arrive — just how you like it — the cold from your walk here was seeping into your bones, the warmth of the library heater quickly fighting off your shivering as you shuck off your oversized jacket, and gloves slowly making your way back to your favourite table by the window - your feet pausing as you notice the mop of curly hair already taking residence at your table. He’s tucked behind a stack of textbooks, the pen in his hand messily scribbling against his paper as his tongue sticks out a little, his teeth biting into it.

Luke spots you quickly, his posture straightening straight away as he raises his hand to call out to you, but catches himself at the last minute, just giving you a soft wave and a quick smile, his long legs shoving out the chair opposite him in an offering. The sleeves of his - you guessed it - u-mich hoodie as shoved up to his elbows, you slide into the seat in front of him as you can’t help but blurt out, “Do you wear anything other than school merch?” You have to restrain yourself from slapping your hand across your mouth as you say it — the question coming out meaner than you intended, but Luke just laughs, a breathy chuckle as he shrugs.

“It’s comfortable.” He responds, watching closely as you pull out your laptop and worn down notebook from your tote bag — the same tote bag you used last time you were here, but not the same one you wore to class the other day — Luke notices, to be fair, Luke notices a lot about you.

He noticed the way you tried to make yourself unnoticeable — he notices the way you use a different tote bag for different things — he notices the way you always look angry around campus but whenever someone approaches you, your face breaks out into a soft smile — he notices the way you twirl your hair when you get nervous or stressed — Luke had always noticed you, not matter how hard you tried, but that was something he would ever want to admit out loud, that would mean he would have to admit to watching you, and that would be creepy.

“What have you been working on?” You ask as you slide his notebook towards you, glancing over his notes with an impressed smile, before frowning at his graph towards the bottom of the page.

“I reread chapters two and three and thought I was doing well until they suggested mapping out the whole supply and demand thing and… well, it didn’t turn out so well.” He explains, The graph makes a lot more sense to you as he explains, "To be honest, I think I blacked out halfway through so I’m not even sure what this is measuring.” He says sheepishly as he points to the far box on the graph.

“It’s messy—” You admit, sliding the book back towards him before flicking open your own notebook, “but you have the fundamentals down. This is from when I took 102 ECON in freshman year, use it as a guide, remember I’m marking your work so I’ll know if you cheated.” You say, pushing your own notebook towards him.

Luke’s eyes widen in surprise as he flicks through the note book, neat, colour coded, handwriting careful and in print - each point defined and highlighted with a precision he could only every dream of - not to mention it seems to hold to answer to every question he has ever had about ECON, “This is the shit those Pinterest aesthetic girls dream about.” Luke says in awe as he continues to flick through the pages.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small tingle down your spine at the praise, “Just be careful with it, it’s been through like four tutor students and has yet to succumb to one of them, and if you ruin it…” You trail off, hoping the threat would carry its own weight, but Luke seems entirely too distracted by what you said before.

“You’ve tutored other students?” He starts, a frown dropping on his face, his eyes glaring down at your notebook of perfection — good heavens, it even smells like you — “God, you think you're special and then she goes as says she’s done this with four other people.” Luke grumbles to himself, his hand harshly flicking the book back towards you as he crosses his arms over his chest — “and to think I got you extra marshmallows in your hot chocolate.” You glance down at the book and shrug, lifting your hands to reach for it, but Luke is faster, his hand slapping down on it and dragging it back to himself.

“On second thought, your apology can be letting me keep this for the rest of the semester.” He seems pleased by his decision as he pushes a take away cup closer to you, tucking your note book under his own before going back to what he was doing before your arrived, occasionally lifting his head to ask a question about his work, before deciding better of it and referring to your notebook — which does in fact have the answer, every time.

It’s three hours later, when the library closure announcement rings overhead - your head snapping up in surprise, Luke lets out a long yawn stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up ever so slightly the peak of pale skin enough to make your cheeks flush a little, you had still yet to figure out what sport Luke plays, but the defined ridges of his abdomen was a clear sign you were right to assume he was an athlete.

“I suppose it’s time I walk you home then.” Luke lets out through another yawn, already shoving his books in his bag, carefully sliding your notebook into the laptop pocket in the back, safely tucking it behind the cool metal of his MacBook.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You exclaim quickly, following his lead and tucking your own books away.

“Yes I do.” He affirms, “It’s cold and dark out there and you are tiny, it would be all too easy for someone to grab you on their way past.”

“I’m not tiny — I’m of average stature, thank you very much.” You hiss, shooting him a very half hearted glare as you zip up your tote bag, pulling on your coat, as you watch Luke peel his off the back of his chair, he pulls his backpack on, and hangs his letterman jacket over his arm — Football then — you assume, the stereotypical image of a jock racing through your head, but Luke didn’t quite fit that, he was too… awkward.

“Just let me walk you home.” He grunts, his hand lightly pushing yours out of the way as he pulls your tote bag off the chair, swinging it over his own shoulder before leading the way out. You both bid goodbye to the librarian who waits, annoyed by the front door, not being able to leave until you do. The cold winter air hits you like a slap in the face, your arms quickly curling around yourself as you tuck your face into the collar of your coat, your breath letting out hot puffs of air.

Luke shuffles next to you for a moment, barely in your peripherals before a heavy fabric is draped over your shoulders, the navy blue jacket practically swallowing you whole, as he makes sure its tucked tightly over your shoulders — the fabric smells like him and is so soft against your cheeks as you burrow into it a little before realising what you’re doing.

“Luke, it’s freezing out here; you should be wearing your jacket.” You quickly spit out, rushing to slip the jacket off your shoulders and hand it back to him, but he shakes his head, his hands readjusting the heavy coat until he’s pleased it won’t slip straight back off.

“I’m used to the cold,” He says quickly, though his pink cheeks and nose are telling a slightly different story, “Besides, it looks better on you anyway.” He steps away from you a little, clearing his throat as he leads the way to your building, the question already bubbling in your mind as the two of your reach your dorm entrance.

“You know where I live?” You ask quickly, your head tilted to the side, your eyes accusing as Luke sputters to think of an answer.

“Apparently.” Is the best he can think of, his face scrunching in a grimace at his own response, but you just let out a guff of laughter. “I may have wandered back this way on Friday night to make sure you got home safe.” He admits, and you can’t fight the way your stomach flutters a little, an unreasonable response to him admitting he essentially stalked you the night after you tutored him.

“Oh.” You say.

“Oh.” He mimics the two of you standing on the front steps in silence for a few moments, before Luke clears his throat again, “Um, the guys and I are throwing a little get-together this Friday, I was wondering if you wanted to come?” His eyebrows are pinched as he asks the question, almost like he’s waiting for you to flat out refuse as soon as it leaves his mouth, “You don’t have to, I just thought I’d offer—”

“I’ll come.” You say quickly, cutting off what you assume is going to be another ramble, another flutter in the pit of your stomach at the way his face immediately lights up.

“Oh, cool.” He says, slipping his hands into his pockets, trying to remain calm as he nods to himself a few times, “It’s just at the hockey house a few streets over, I’ll text you the address.” He says quickly, the start of his sentence sticking out to you — hockey? guess there’s no more need to wonder. You nod quickly, taking your offered tote back from Luke and reaching in to fish for your keys, glancing up as Luke takes a few backward steps away, his head nodding for you to go inside.

“Luke, wait, your jacket.” You call out as he takes a few more steps away, a pleased smile on his lips as he looks over his coat still draped over your shoulder, he just shrugs his shoulders, moving further down the pathway, not giving you the chance to bring it to him before he says,

“Guess you’re gonna have to give it back to me on Friday.”

That sneaky little shit, this is his guarantee you’ll show up to the “get together” he knows you’ll never be able to wait to give his jacket back.

Fuck, you’ve never been to a “get together” — especially at a hockey house.

You’ve changed your outfit three times in the last twenty minutes — first it was a sweater and jeans, cause it's cold out there and you want to try without looking like you’re trying, you know? But what if everyone else was trying, then you’d just look stupid — so next was the tight top and small skirt, cause as a Disney princess once said, the cold never bothered me anyway, but the cold does in fact bother you so it was a very quick veto — and here you are with your third outfit, the tight top from the second outfit and the flared jeans from the first all surrounded by the thick navy letterman jacket that to be completely honest you had barely taken off since Luke let you borrow it.

You spare yourself one more glance in the mirror as you tug you hair into a claw clip, the overstimulation from it brushing against the back of your neck already too much to bare, the top fits well and does wonders for your chest, the jeans make your legs look longer and Luke’s jacket swallows your whole in the best way possible — it’s comforting in a way and somehow gives you just enough courage to pull your purse over your shoulder and shuffle your way out of the dorm.

You phone buzzes softly in your hand, the message from Luke lighting up the screen.

Luke (library guy): The party is in full swing. 🙃

Luke (library guy): No rush though, let me know when you’re on your way, or close and I’ll come out and greet you like a good host. ☺️

Luke (library guy): or I can meet you on the corner?

Luke (library guy): or halfway?

Luke (library guy): just text me, please.

You can’t help the way your lips tilt upwards in a smile as you read the messages, at the way Luke seems to have no concern over double texts or his overuse of the same three emoji’s despite what the contents of the messages say, you’re about halfway to the hockey house when you decide to put him out of his misery and text him back.

Library Girl: I’m just about to reach the corner of your street.

Luke (library guy): okay, be there in a sec.

Luke (library guy) has changed your nickname to ‘bestie boo 👻’

bestie boo 👻 : oh we’re changing nicknames are we?

bestie boo 👻 has changed Luke (library guy) nickname to ‘tall and lanky’

tall and lanky has changed their nickname to ‘favourite student 📚’

favourite student 📚: don’t test me bestie boo, I can promise you I’ll win this one.

You let out a breath of laughter as you tuck your phone back into your pocket, the tall and lanky figure making a slow jog down the street, catching your attention, your mouth falling open a little in surprise at Luke actually making his way to meet you on the corner of his street.

“I thought you were joking.” You call out as you speed up your steps to reach him at the corner, his eyes dragging down your body as you stop in front of him, his eyebrows pulled up in surprise as his gaze catches on his jacket encompassing your torso.

“I never joke.” Luke says, his face as serious as he can manage, — though the small twitch at the corner of his lip is a good hint that he is in fact joking — as his hand reaches out to pinch the hem of his jacket, “you’re wearing it?”

“Am I not allowed to? It’s warm.” You respond, the street lamps the only thing illuminating either of you, the only thing showing the way. Luke’s expression melts at your words, his head nodding slowly, his lips moving, though no words come out.

“It really does look better on you.” He says softly, finally stepping away from the building suffocation between the two of you, moving his hands to gesture that the two of you continue the walk down the street to the lit-up hockey house in the centre, the loud bass of music already tickling your ears. You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way down the pavement in almost silence, Luke seeming stuck in his own thoughts, his knuckles brushing against yours with every swing of his hand — a part of you wondering if maybe he’s doing it on purpose.

If a part of him wants to hold your hand as much as you want to hold his.

The two of you make it to the house without much said between the two of you, the music overwhelming as a cheer of Luke’s name choruses over the crowd on the front porch, his hand raising in a quick wave of greeting before dropping and finding the small of your back as he leans down towards you.

“It’s pretty loud, are you going to be okay?” His question and concern make you falter a little, your mouth gaping as you think of something to say, the question of how much he’s noticed about you rising to the surface; “I don’t want to assume, but you don’t seem like the type of person to enjoy chaos.” He whispers, his hand a firm pressure on the small of our back as he leads you up the front porch steps.

“I’ll be fine.” You manage to squeak out, the skin underneath the layers of clothes burning wherever his hand touches — more calls of his name chorus as he swings open the front door, sticking close beside you as he greets people in passing, leading you towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. The warmth of the house makes you instantly sweat under the weight of Luke’s jacket, the house filled with boisterous and already drunk college students, furniture pushed out of the way to make a haphazard dance floor and people crowded around each other as the air is drenched in the smell of mingling cologne and perfume, but all you can smell is Luke.

“Do you drink?” Luke asks softly as you reach the kitchen, his hand pulling away from your back hesitantly as he pulls two red solo cups off the pile, waiting for your response before pouring in any liquids.

“Uh, not really.” You respond, watching as Luke nods, pulling a unopened bottle of coke from the ice box, filling both his and your cups with it before tucking it away again — you manage to shake off the jacket which is now making you overheat with the swell of warmth from the house, tucking it over your arm as you gratefully accept the drink Luke offers. “It’s really hot in here.” You explain, but Luke’s eyes are unfocused, darting over your body, landing on your collarbones before he shakes his head and moves them back up to meet yours.

“You look real—” Luke is interrupted by a cheering of his name over by the dining table, riddled with half-filled solo cups, his teammates begging him to come join them. You watch as he goes to deny them at first, pointing to you with an apologetic look, but they’re relentless as they keep waving for him to join.

“Go play.” You say quickly, cradling your red cup in both hands as you nod towards the table, “I’ll watch.” You say as you step towards the group of hockey players gathered around the table, Luke looks at them before back at you for reassurance, the soft nod of your head enough as he slowly joins his friends, who all let out hoots of excitement as he reaches the table.

Luke is different here - you watch him play beer pong for over an hour, he introduces you to people as he goes, but his demeanour has changed completely, he’s confident here, at home. He’s not the same Luke that you see slouched over his ECON textbook most afternoons, stressing over his graphs and blushing when you compliment his understanding of what he just read; this is him in his element. He knows everyone, and you mean everyone. He knows their names, their stories, and asks them about random things going on in their lives before moving on to the next person. Everyone here loves him, and you can’t help the pressure building in your chest at the joy of being able to see him like this.

Luke never strays far, only leaving your side for a moment to throw the ping pong ball before he’s back besides you, his arm rubbing against yours, he interacts with everyone, welcomes them with a hug or handshake but yet he never leaves you alone for long, occasionally bending down to your ear to make sure you don’t need anything before taking his next turn.

It’s almost too much, his attention, his focus on you constantly — you feel like you can’t breathe but it’s not a bad feeling.

You’re halfway through a conversation with Ethan, one of the defensemen who plays with Luke ,when a voice calls out across the room, a voice you hadn’t expected to hear, especially not today.

“Hey, never expected to see little Miss Perfect at a frat party.” The voice is so close now, enough that you can feel the shiver run down your spine - the breaking of goosebumps along your skin. Ethan seems to notice something is up, his gaze looking over your head before he moves to nudge Luke with his elbow, bringing his attention to the man now loitering against the wall beside you.

“Kyle?” You question slowly as you turn to face him, knowing the only way to get rid of his attention was to give him some of yours first. “What are you doing here?” You ask quickly, your grip tightening around your almost empty cup of Coke as you shift your weight on your feet.

“A friend invited me.” You ex says like you had asked the most ridiculous question he had every heard, the answer coming out with a soft scoff.

“No, I mean over here? Why’d you come over here?” You clarify, the music of the room fading away as your breathing becomes more shallow — you hadn’t seen Kyle since you walked in on him and roommate, together, in your bed, on valentines day last year — and his ‘it’s not me, its you’ had repeated on your mind for weeks after.

“I thought we should talk.” He says casually, taking a long gulp of his beer as he moves a little closer, his body almost sandwiching you against the wall besides you - his grin downright gross as he looks you up and down, “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“Well, I don’t really want to talk to you.” You say quickly, trying to force yourself a step away, not wanting to be stuck against the wall with no way out. Kyle had never been violent with you, but he had other ways of causing harm; his words tended to cut deeper than any knife.

“Why? You’re too good for me now?” He questions, his eyes catching on Luke’s jacket still hanging over your arm, his eyes lighting with a fire that usually meant bad things, “You think now that you’ve found yourself a stupid hockey boyfriend, you’re better than me? You can do better than me?” His body is closing in now, the air being sucked away from you as your chest tightens, your hands gripping onto the fabric of Luke’s jacket for dear life as you try again, to skirt around your ex boyfriend.

“She can do better than you.” Luke’s voice is gravely, his large hand gripping your hip as he pulls you back against him, his breaths coming out heavy as he keeps your body pressed against his, “She dropped her standards majorly to be with someone like you, you should be thanking her for giving you the time of day.” Luke huffs, his tone almost seeming bored, but you can almost feel the steam rolling off him as he stares down your ex-boyfriend, his thumbs rubbing softly against the harsh fabric of your jeans.

You can feel everything — too much of everything as Kyle rolls his eyes, giving Luke a long once over before draining his beer and throwing the empty cup towards you, Luke quickly batting it away as he motions to one of the boys at the other end of the table, who make quick work of “politely” escorting your ex boyfriend from the house.

“Hey, let’s go get some air.” His voice is soft as he whispers in your ear, both hands on your hips as he steers you towards the back door, both of ignoring the glances from his teammates — the backyard is almost completely empty as he slides open the back door, quickly grabbing the jacket from your arm as draping it over you before sliding the door closed behind the two of you, moving to lean against the balcony railing, waiting patiently for you to come join him.

“An ex, I assume?” He says as you join him against the railing, your head nodding as you lean forwards, letting his jacket swallow you up, the warm material helping your shoulders relax back down to their resting position. “Is he the one who was blowing up your phone the other day at the library?” Luke asks, and you just nod, not entirely sure what to say or how to say it.

Luke lets out a long groan, rubbing his hands down his face as he shakes the tension out of his body, a grin replacing the deep frown on his face, “He seems like a major dick, I’m sorry he made you uncomfortable.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologising.” Luke just lets out a soft laugh, running his fingers through the curled ends of his hair, pushing them away from his face as he pushes away from the railing, moving to box you against it — the position so similar to the one you were stuck in before, but feels so, so different.

“I don’t like fighting…” Luke points out quietly, almost like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear what he just said, “But I’d fight someone for you, especially if they made you look the way you did back there.” Your breath catches a little as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, the sparks between the two of you igniting against your skin.

“I don’t know if I made it clear enough earlier, but you look really pretty tonight.” He whispers, the instant panic running across his face as he realises what he said, “Not that you don’t always look pretty, but you look especi— you know what, forget I said anything.” There’s something about the way he says it, about the way that you can see your Luke coming back to the surface that makes you smile, taking a step into his body — a step that seems to confuse him, panic him almost.

“You’ve already said it, Luke, you can’t take it back now.” You mumble, your hands hanging by your sides as you wait for him to make the first move, but he’s stuck; he doesn’t move from his spot, just watching you. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Luke.”

“What am I thinking?” You nod at his question, tilting your head to the side as you wait patiently for his brain to catch up, “I’m think that I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you tonight, I’m thinking that I wish you never came here and we were bundled up in the library so I can have you all to myself.” You barely register the rise in your heart rate as you let out a shaky breath.

“Now ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me what I’m thinking.” Luke seems to freeze, his whole body tensing up as he keeps his eyes locked with yours.

“What are you thinking?” He finally manages to get out, his breathing shallow as he waits for you to respond, his eyes darting between your own, the red rising up the back of his neck as he waits.

“I’m thinking that I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you gave me your jacket the other day.” You watch Luke’s eyes widen, his eyebrows rising in surprise. Luke doesn’t waste time responding — he just moves.

One moment your looking up at him, your expression of surprise mirroring his — you can’t believe you just said that, just admitted you want him to kiss you — and the next his lips are on yours, his hands bunching in his own jacket still wrapped around you, pulling you tighter against him as his mouth finds yours, warm and certain, something about it so slow and gentle, the kiss just barely registering in your brain before your hands are smoothing up his chest, bundling in the collar of his hoodie.

This kiss is nothing like any other party kiss — it’s not rushed or messy, not worried about someone rounding the corner to find you — it’s slow, almost rehearsed as if Luke had been imagining this for as long as you had, as if he was taking his time with you. Luke kisses you with the attention he puts into everything else — his whole focus, everything he has, is going into this one moment, this one sensation.

His hands leave your jacket to softly cradle your jaw, his head tilting as he deepens the kiss, pulling a soft gasp from you as you raise on your tiptoes to push yourself closer to him. You can feel his lips break out into a grin as he pulls away, his eyes sparking with excitement as he rubs his thumbs against your cheeks.

“I should take you home.” He says softly, his pupils blown out a little as the sound of the music and chatter from the house come back into focus, the reality of where you are sinks back in, “I mean, I should walk you home.” He corrects himself again, his ability to try to put his foot in his mouth still shining even now.

“You should.” You agree, hesitantly detangling your hands from his hoodie, cleaning your throat as you lower yourself off your toes and straighten out the jacket over your shoulders. Luke just smiles as he watches you, waiting till you feel ready before reaching out his large hand towards you, his smile growing as you slide your palm against his.

Luke was meant to be here two hours ago — and before you go on about how no one should wait around for two hours when getting stood up, this was different—different how, you’re not entirely sure, but something felt off. It had been three weeks of tutoring Luke, and not once was he late without notice, and he never, ever was a no show, even that one time he had stacked it in the courtyard on the way over here, he still showed up with blood running down his knee.

This was weird, something was wrong.

You glance down at your phone again, expecting it to light up with a message of apology but nothing — Luke was many things, a terrible liar, easily flustered, a cocky little shit when he was winning at any game the two of you played, but flakey was not one of them. The panic starts to set in — what if he was hurt? What if something happened at practice and he was too injured to let you know? The panic takes quick hold, your belongings shoved haphazardly into your u-mich tote, which Luke had gifted you a week ago, claiming ‘you needed something to show school spirit’ and tug your coat on before dashing from the library — well as fast as you can in an almost blizzard.

There a mix of every emotion running through you, anger that he stood you up for two hours with no notice, concern that he stood you up for two hours with no notice and back to anger, you’re all but ready to give him a verbal lashing when you reach the front porch of the hockey house, slamming your fist into the door a few times before stepping back to cross your arms over your chest, needing the physical boundary to keep the anger inside of you.

You mouth opens to say something as the front door is pulled open — Ethan, one of Luke’s friends stands there looking confused before there’s a lightbulb moment and he’s calling out into the dark house, “Lukey, your girlfriend is here, and she looks pissed.”

There’s a soft shuffling behind the door as you start to say “I’m not his girl—” but the words die in your throat as Luke comes into view.

He looks like shit.

His sweat-drenched hair is pushed back on his head with a white sweat band, and his body is cloaked in a severely oversized tracksuit, his eyes a bloodshot red, skin pale and clammy, and his chest rattling with a wet cough. “Shit.” You mumble as you do a second once over before stepping forward and into the doorway, ushering him back before you slam the front door closed behind you.

“Fuck, I forgot about the study session.” Luke curses, his voice barely coming out as anything more than a croak as he winces. “I’m so sorry, I was only supposed to nap for like five minutes — that was four hours ago.” He says quickly, his eyes still droopy, probably only just having woken up from his ‘nap’.

“You look really bad, Luke.” You whisper as you step forwards reaching up to press your cold hand against his forehead, the heat radiating off him enough to boil a pot of water - Luke lets out an appreciative sigh as he leans further against your hand, a delirious smile on his face.

“Does this feel good to you, too? Or is it just me?” He whines when you pull your hand away, “Don’t leave, you just got here.” He continues to complain when you take your coat and bag off by the door, tugging your large bottle of water out of the bag before turning back to him.

“Have you had any water today? Or showered?” You question, your only response a soft shake of his head and a grimace.

“The doctor said it was just a chest infection, he gave me some antibiotics.” Luke explains and you nod, looking over to his friends perched on the couch, who confirm his answer and throw you the box of pills, which thankfully look like Luke has been taking the recommended doses.

“Where’s your room? We should get you cleaned up.” You ask, watching as Luke’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“I don’t think it’s an appropriate time to be inviting yourself to my room.” He starts, a cheeky grin spreading on his face as he leans down, swaying a little at the movement, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not feeling very well.” You roll your eyes and slap at Luke’s chest as he stands back up, letting out a chesty laugh which immediately turns into a crackling cough.

“Don’t be delusional — lead the way.” You hiss, keeping your hands ready to catch him if he decides to tumble to his death as he makes the slow trek up the stairs to the second floor. “Oh, thank god you have a bathroom in here.” You say as he swings open his door, the ensuite bringing some relief as you walk around him to take in the large shower.

His room is a mess, clothes and books strewn on every surface, his bed looking like he’s been rotting in it for weeks, and the number of tissue boxes he’s been hoarding by his window is a tell-tale sign of how long he’s been feeling unwell. “Okay, do you think you can stand long enough for a quick shower?” You ask, and he immediately shakes his head.

“I tried two nights ago, and almost passed out.” He admits, leaning down to sniff his own armpit before pulling back with a wince, “I’ve been using baby wipes instead.” He continues, wishing to god you are just a figment of his imagination and not actually here, seeing the state he’s in.

“Would you sit in the shower while I clean up?” You ask quickly, “The steam will be good for your chest, and I promise I won’t look below your shoulders.” If Luke’s eyes were wide before, they are full-grown saucers now — if he tried to widen them anymore, they would pop out of his head.

“You want to see me naked?”

“No, I want you to get naked so we can get you clean, there's a difference.” You snort as you start to pile his used tissues into the waste bin in the corner — Luke still perched on the end of his bed, looking more confused than ever.

“So you don’t want to see me naked?”

“Maybe another day, now take your clothes off while I start the water.” You respond, leaving Luke whispering to himself on the bed.

“I’ve never been so confused in my life.” He grumbles as you walk back into the room, but he’s kindly stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes, and you fight to keep your eyes on his face, refusing to steal his dignity as you reach your hands out for him to take. The second he’s under the water, he lets out a sigh of relief, and you watch as he leans against the wall, slowly sliding down till he’s happily sitting on the floor under the warm stream of water.

“I’ll be right back.” You promise, as his head lulls a little to the side, the effort of making it all the way upstairs and into the shower is taking its toll. You quietly fuss around his room, making it somewhat presentable before stripping his bed, finding clean sheets in the walk-in closet off to the side of the bathroom, as well as some reasonably clean boxers and a well-worn t-shirt. There aren’t many towel options as you search the ones scattered along the floor, finally finding two that smell more of fabric softener then death — which will have to do — as you walk back into the bathroom and plop your findings on the counter before stripping off your jeans and making sure your hair is pulled away from your face, you pause at the sight of Luke, still on the bathroom floor, steam wrapping around him, his head tipped back against the cold tiles and water streaming over his reddening skin. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his mouth is slightly open in content; he looks almost peaceful.

“Scoot over, I want to wash your hair.” You say gently as you step into the shower, your t-shirt already getting wet as you grab his shampoo and conditioner off the shelf, before placing yourself next to him on the floor. His head shoots up as he looks over at you, but your expression must give no room for debate as he nods, pushing himself away from the wall, turning his back towards you as he scrunches his knees to his chest.

“I think I’m dreaming.” He mumbles as you squirt a little bit of shampoo onto your palm, rubbing it between your two hands before threading your fingers into his hair. Luke melts — there’s no other way to describe it — his body almost immediately relaxing against you, his whole body weight leaning back against you as you scrub the shampoo into his hair, taking the time to really detangle his mess of curls.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, as you grab the shower head and rinse out the soapy mixture before reaching for his conditioner, squeezing a generous amount on your hand before slowly running it through the ends of his hair, looping the softening curls around your fingers before letting them bounce back against his scalp.

“Because when else would I have a pretty girl sacrificing her clothes to wash my hair when I’m sick.” He explains, his eyes shutting again as you massage his scalp, his head leans further back, almost landing on your shoulder as he lets out another long sigh. “You smell so good, like you always smell amazing — like apples and home.” His words are getting sloppier, his body somehow getting heavier as you decide now is a good time to rinse out his hair and get him out of the shower.

“I’m gonna steal some of your clothes, do you think you can manage washing your body?” You ask as you stand handing him a loofa covered in soap as he nods in determination, watching longingly as you grab a towel off his counter before leaving the bathroom, digging through his cupboard for a T-shirt and some shorts to borrow.

Luke is out of the shower and pulling on his t-shirt when you walk back into the bathroom, a little of his colour already returning to his face as he pushes his wet hair back from his face. “You didn’t need to do all of this, you know.”

“Someone had to.” You say with a soft shrug, trying to keep your expression relaxed as you glance over to his fresh bed and hold your towel out to him, “Want me to dry your hair?” Luke is never one to turn down an offer to have you fuss over him; he thinks it’s becoming one of his new favourite things. You perch yourself against his headboard, patting the open space between your legs. Luke wasted no time in climbing onto the bed and lying himself between your legs, a shaky groan leaving him as you start to use the towel to dry his hair, your fingers continuing to work their magic on him.

“You know how you said you might want to see me naked another day?” The question is out of Luke’s mouth before he can second-guess it, maybe it’s the antibiotics, but a part of him has lost any and all filter he may have possessed before this moment. You let out a long groan as Luke continues, “I think I want there to be another day, like lots of another days — as many as you’ll give me, I can even keep pretending to understand ECON if it pleases you.”

“Luke, you don’t have to pretend to do anything to please me.” Your words a gentle, followed by a smile he can picture on your face, “You're pleasing me right now by being clean and mildly coherent.”

“Do you think we can have another days?” Luke’s question is so genuine and raw that it sucks all the air out of your lungs, your heart slamming so hard against your chest you’re sure he can hear it.

“We can have another days once you’re better.” You agree slowly, but you know before you check that he’s already asleep, his face pressed into your thigh, his arm wrapped around your calf, his body spent from the shower. His skin is still simmering with a fever as you continue to run your fingers through his hair, massaging the base of his neck as he lets out an annoyed whine anytime you try to slip out from under him.

“Just stay, please.” He whispers as he settles further into your lap — so you do. You stay until your legs are numb and you beg him, quietly, to let you lie down on his mattress next to him, he obliges, his arm wrapping over your waist and pulling your tightly against him, his fever keeping you warm despite the fan blowing the winter chill over the two of you.

You manage to sneak out the next morning as the sun shines through his half-opened curtains, Luke only waking momentarily to take his medicine before slumping back against his mattress.

“Get some more rest, I’ll text you later.” You whisper as you pull on your now dry clothes, briefly crouching beside the bed to push some hair off his forehead and check for his lightning fever. “I think we’re going to have lots of another days.” You whisper as his breathing slows, his body falling back to sleep, and you lean forward to press a soft kiss against his forehead before sneaking out of the hockey house and back to your own dorm.

Finals week hits the two of you like a freight train — the only time you and Luke actually get to see each other is during one of the rare study sessions you manage to slip into your schedule. You barely have time to eat or sleep, but you keep managing to find time to check on Luke’s progress and make sure you answer any questions he might have before his exam. You just can’t manage to stop thinking about the boy who only a few days ago was lulled into a feverish sleep in your lap, whom you promised “another days” to.

It’s in the middle of your final exam review with Luke that he seems to crumble any resolve you had left, his voice barely above a whisper as the clock ticks to ten pm, the two of you barely able to read your notes anymore, your third coffee of the night sitting next to you on the table.

“You really are something special.”

“What?” Your pen drops to your notebook as you raise your head to glance over at him.

“I just need to put it out there, everything you’ve done—” he pauses, “Everything you’ve done and are still doing for me, it takes a special person to be able to do all this.” He corrects himself, his eyes boring holes into yours as you feel everything inside you crumble — if you had any tears left in you from the hell that is finals week, you would have cried at the proclamation.

You really are something special.

It plays in your head on repeat for the rest of the week, his tone soft and sweet every time you hear it run through your head again. He was too sincere, too honest, too open — and now you’ll never be able to stop thinking about him, be able to shake the fact that you think a part of you thinks of Luke as more than just a friend, just a fellow student you’re helping pass his exams.

Everything is getting too real now.

It’s a week later when the message wakes you up.

favourite student 📚: can you meet me at the library? I have something for you.

It takes you a few times to read and comprehend the message, your brain no longer functioning well at eight in the morning since the semester ended, and you barely have enough brain power to figure out he means now. You roll out of your bed, tugging on the large hoodie you had stolen from Luke a few nights ago - not that he seemed to care - and slip your feet into shoes before your bursting out of your dorm room and to the front entrance, almost running straight into a broad shoulder, lanky hockey player.

He manages to hold out a hand to catch your arm as you skid to a stop in front of him, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “I thought you told me to meet you at the library?” You ask quickly, not second-guessing the hot chocolate he hands you, taking a long swig of it before he shrugs.

“I couldn’t wait for you to get there.” He says quickly, reaching out to pull your drink from your hand, placing it beside his on the ground before he reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone, typing on it quickly before beaming down at the glowing screen and turning it to face you.

89%

102 ECON final exam - 89%

He passed.

Luke Hughes, finally passed 102 ECON.

“I told you, you were something special.” He says with a grin that could rival the gods, your body practically vibrating with excitement as you throw yourself forward and into his arms, your own looping around his neck as you let out a high pitched squeal.

“You did it, Luke.” You coo as his arms encompass you, a breathy laugh echoing in your ear as he sways you back and forth, his own excitement buzzing. “This was all you, Luke — I’m so proud of you.” Luke barely gives you a chance to pull your head back before his mouth is on yours - his fingers digging into your back as he holds you tight against him.

This kiss is different to the one at the party, it’s quick and heated and filled with every emotion Luke can think of pouring into it, your breaths coming out ragged as he pulls away from you a little, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out another laugh.

“I really couldn’t have done it without you.” He says softly, like this is a secret between only the two of you, like the world doesn’t deserve to know what’s happening in this moment. The whole world has gone quiet, waiting to see what will happen next, as you stretch your neck to press a gentle kiss against his cheek.

“I think I was just an excuse.” You say quietly, your smile rivalling his, “You had it in you the whole time, Luke, you just needed a little help brining it out.”

“Still, I really needed y—” He pauses for a moment, thinking his words through carefully before correcting himself, “I really needed and still need you, if you plan on hanging around?”

“I’m sure I can fit you into my schedule. I’m a pretty busy girl.” You can’t help the hammering of your heart as he slowly places you back on the ground, his smile — a smile you hope is only ever reserved for you—spreading across his face as he nods.

“I’ll take what I can get.”

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