#Heather's one-word prompts

[mxanigel]

One-word prompts: Sand

“How’s my stance now, Father?”

“You don’t need to think about fighting all the time, pup.” He ruffles her hair. “It’s all right to enjoy the beach.”

“But I’ve been practicing!” Her back to the Waking Sea, Heather’s forehead furrows in concentration as she maintains her hands in an elevated pose, fingers curled around imaginary hilts.

Father sighs but begins carefully inspecting her posture. He gently adjusts her left elbow and right shoulder. “There, you should feel more balanced.”

“Wow, I do!”

“But balance won’t be enough in every situation.” Falling to a crouch, Father grabs a handful of sand, the grains slowly trickling between his fingers. “In a pinch, you can blind your opponent with this.”

Heather wrinkles her nose. “That’s not very sportsmanlike.”

“Not all battles can be fought with sportsmanship, pup. Sometimes you must resort to… other tactics, if it means saving your life or protecting the life of someone else.”

She gulps. She hopes it never comes to that.

[eggoyolkk]

just seeing that sketch dump of wilfre being spared by the hero makes me love it; an how about the hero managing to clean the corrupting shadow off from him (untainting and separating aldark away from wilfre's body in the process (i am even imaging a funny scene of this shadow jerk aldark going down the drain in this process)) without killing him? how it would look like?

hilariously ive already considered this <3

so step one: retrieve him from the hall of darkness alive and separate him from Heather

step two: gay bath.

step three: no more shadow :D

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[nuno-draws]

Prompts used: • Explore how different cultures have different ways of experiencing seasons or have different names for them. • Calendars and timekeeping @yourcubitoyourculture

This is part 1 out of 4 dedicated to Ukrainian names of the months. I will update every part with links to each one of them as they get upload!! So stay tuned :D

And since autumn just begun I decided to start with it :3

Featuring Zed, Impulse and Gem!

autumn || winter || spring || summer

_______________________________

Вересень (veresen') - September “Верес”(veres) means “heather”. Heather is a honey plant, which usually begins to bloom in the start of this month.

Жовтень (zhovten') - October “Жовтий”(zhovtyy) is a color yellow. The name of the month comes from the color the leaves turn in autumn.

Листопад (lystopad) - November Combination of two words: “листя”(lystya) - leaves, and “падати”(padaty) -to fall. Literally means “leaf-fall”. This is the last month of autumn, which means most of the leaves would be falling off the trees around this time.

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪ Worldwide - Big Time Rush

I'm gonna be honest- these episodes kind of fell apart while I was making this. The more I re-wrote the story for it's second draft the less this version made sense and the less interested I was to work on it. I have not much else to say except sorry this part is kinda iffy and sorry it took so long. I promise you I'll make up for this in the next episode I PROMISE

Notes on both episodes under the cut!

Sweden Sour

* (I think it’d be really funny if Cody just doesn’t talk at all this episode. Not a word. Just nods and head shakes and depressed faces.)

* Cody’s incredibly depressed after Noah’s elimination. Sierra’s over the moon, though. She sees Cody depressed and gives him a tight side hug, petting his head. She tries consoling him with “I know you’re sad, but it’s ok! At least I’m still here~.” Cody starts sobbing, head in hands. Heather is sick of this already.

* The teams get their “ibuilda” pieces and the Amazons argue on what it’s supposed to be. Cody stares at the pieces for a few seconds before the light briefly re enters his eyes. He starts building. Courtney tells him to stop but Heather tells her he’s obviously got it, so let him work. They start helping him build… something.

* Once the Amazons are done, Heather, Sierra and Courtney take a step back to see what they’ve built. It’s a giant wooden Noah head. Their faces drop. Heather is filled with murderous rage.

* We built Noah’s face (We’re gonna take first place) Cause we built Noah’s faaaace

* Tyler’s jumper would be white.

* Cody doesn’t sing in this number. Chris notices and stares at him threateningly. He reluctantly hums the chorus and Chris takes what he can get.

* (Alejandro takes off his shirt to pull the boat like a freak. Duncan is unfazed and Tyler will deny it if you ask him if he blushed.)

* Sierra hits Noah’s Head hard enough it falls over on its side and suggests sawing off the side to ride in him like a boat. Heather and Courtney agree to this. Cody has no comment.

* Duncan and Alejandro don't bother bending over backwards to please Tyler. Duncan makes himself captain and no one argues.

* When the Amazons go to pick a captain, Courtney grabs the hat and declares herself captain without input. Heather tries to argue but Courtney argues back- Cody is in no condition, no one trusts Sierra and Heather took control the last challenge so this time she’s in charge. Heather reluctantly backs down.

* Amazons catch up to team Chris in the water. Alejandro sees them approach and makes note of Cody’s face, making fun of him for being so upset about “the Noah thing”. Cody furrows his eyebrows and points furiously at Chris’s boat. Courtney agrees that yes, they should shoot their boat.

* It doesn’t matter who wins the challenge since it’s a non elimination round, but I want to say the Amazons persevere. The massage helps Cody enough that he’s not stone faced next episode at least.

Aftermath III (Aftermath Aftermayhem)

* Gwen, Owen and Noah are introduced together. Gwen walks out first and Owen, hugging Noah to the point of lifting him off the ground, walks behind her.

* Geoff asks what all that’s about and Gwen responds that Owen refused to let him go until Noah “understood just how sorry he was”. Noah insists he forgives him, but Owen still won’t let him go.

* The Owen square is replaced by the Tyler square. The prompt is survive. (The hosts throw a bunch of debris at the contestant for thirty seconds and if they dodge everything they move on.)

* (For brevity’s sake, assume all of the contestants that participated in the board game in the original episode participated here [with the exception of Tyler, who is replaced with Owen]. They all get eliminated the same way as well, Noah getting got by aliens, Owen falling down the booby trap square and Beth making it to the final question.)

* When Beth gets stumped on the last question (What was Duncan's band called) Noah yells at her, frustrated: “Oh my- It’s Der Schnitzel Kickers, Beth!!” Confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling.

* (He knows this because Cody had mentioned it in a conversation after the London challenge.)

* Noah initially complains about winning the game, but Owen reminds him that he gets to see Cody again and he shuts up immediately.

* “Noah wins!” “Wasn’t he disquali-” “NOAH WINS!! Let’s wrap it up. We’re done here.”

[spooky-holtz]

Kelly Green

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff, some VERY suggestive language, alludes heavily to smut

Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt: "mel x reader where they’re dating and the r keeps stealing mel’s eagles sweatshirt and one day mel finds the reader all curled up on the couch sleeping with the sweater on.."

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

“Honey?” You hear Melissa call in your shared bedroom from where you sit at the bathroom vanity that was once just hers. The products that litter the surface are a mix of both of yours; Melissa’s various pens and bottles sitting on one side, neatly tucked into a makeup back, your own strewn across the surface as you try to prepare yourself for the day ahead, “Have you seen my lucky sweatshirt anywhere?”  

You know exactly the one she’s talking about. It’s game day so there is only one item of clothing she will wear and it’s her relic of a sweatshirt. The heather grey material is a little discolored and frayed around the edges from years of constant use and the green print that displays the Eagles logo across the front is cracked beyond belief, making it nearly impossible to read the Kelly green font.  

“Babe?” She calls again, “Are you even listening?” The slight panic in her voice is evident as you realize you haven’t actually answered her yet. You stare back at your reflection in the mirror from the padded stool on which you sit, hair curled and makeup half-applied after your shower, Melissa’s silk robe you grabbed from its hook on the back of the door currently resting on your shoulders and tied loosely around your waist.  

You sigh as you realize you should probably go and help the redhead and rise from your seat, anticipating the level of stress you’ll no doubt find her in.  

When you cross the threshold from cold tiled flooring to the soft carpet of the bedroom, you immediately find Melissa torso deep in the chest of drawers that holds most of her clothing. She hasn’t even noticed you yet, the entire top half of her body nearly submerged in the sea of shirts as she rummages through them frantically. You can hear her mumbling something about “that goddamn sweater” as she digs through the drawer, your presence unnoticed.  

You don’t want to get too close to the scene, knowing that you could get hit by one of the sweater-turned-projectiles that your dear wife is currently throwing halfway across the room, not bothering to look back and see where they land. Instead, you choose to lean back against the doorway from which you just entered and admire the view of Melissa bending over in the tightest pair of leather pants she owns. Game day has its advantages, and every single one of them are those pants. You decide to finally put her out of her misery and break the silence.  

“You know it’s not going to be in there, right?” The sound of your voice immediately catches her attention, and she jumps, caught off guard by the intrusion and nearly hitting her head on the drawer above her head that sits ajar above the current focus of her attention. “The last game day was literally a week ago, so it’s probably folded up by the dryer somewhere downstairs.”  

In reality you know it’s not anywhere near the dryer; it’s in your own chest of drawers that Melissa doesn’t dare to touch. She can’t know that you’ve taken it, especially not now when she’s this far into what is coming close to a nervous breakdown.  

You didn’t even mean for it to take up residence among the rest of your clothing. It just happened last weekend when Melissa was out shopping and lunching with Barbara and you quite simply missed her, choosing to curl up in the sweater that she’s worn since long before you met. It just never found its way back to its rightful home and is now tucked away safely among your countless band t-shirts on the other side of the bedroom.  

After what feels like an eternity of watching your wife rifling through her own clothing, she finally stands from her crouched position, grumbling about her knees and gripping the edge of the cabinet, and turns to meet you.  

“How about I check the dryer for you, hm?” You ask as she turns slowly, her stiff muscles making it difficult to do so quickly. The stress in her features is evident, the crease between her eyebrows prominent from her furrowed brow. Her face softens as she meets your eye-line from where you rest against the door from, arms folded and head leaning against the wood.  

“I’ve already checked, it’s definitely not there,” she replied, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. As she moves you can’t help but notice her eyes dipping down your frame, taking in your form. Her expression has gone from stressed, soft, to starving in seconds. “You know, I never even noticed that this is what you looked like right now.”  

She’s crossed the room already and stands in front of you, arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you away from the door frame, toward her. Your own arms unfold and lace themselves around her neck, her red curls brushing against your wrists as you move. You scratch at the nape of her neck lightly, knowing that it calms her even in her most tumultuous of moments.  

“I haven’t even put my eyelashes on yet,” you huff. “I’m literally nowhere near ready.”  

Her eyes dip down again, your own following her gaze to see exactly what she finds so interesting. She wraps her arms tighter around you, bringing your body impossibly closer to her own. Her hands dip lower, brushing against the small of your back, bunching your robe and holding you in place.  

“You know, that isn’t a bad thing at all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice and your suspicions are confirmed when you look up and see that all too familiar expression laced across her features. Her dimples are deepened by the quirk of her lip, her eyebrow raised almost as if in a challenge. Your eyes dip down to her lips just as her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, coated with sticky pink shimmering gloss. When you look back up again you know you’ve been caught.  

You feel the heat rise up your neck, covering your chest in a pink blush. Even after all this time, Melissa’s flirting still makes you feel like a teenager. You can feel her subtly maneuver your body so that your back rests against the painted wall and not the sharp doorframe, narrowly missing the large wooden picture frame that protects an image of the Philly skyline.  

You know she’s proud of herself and the flustered state she’s got you in. Her lips haven’t even touched your own yet and you’re already putty in her hands, the task at hand completely forgotten. You feel her press into you, pushing you further into the wall, her leg coming to rest between your own.  

Her hands still hold your waist, keeping you in place and precisely where she wants you. The contact burns through your robe, the same way her eyes burn holes into your skin. When her eyes meet yours, you can see how dark they’ve become, the emerald green almost unrecognizable from the blown nature of her pupils. Her one hand leaves the comfort of your waist and instead trails up your body to rest at your jaw, her thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip.  

“You know, we’ve still got some time,” she says lowly, her eyebrow arched again. She knows you can never say no to her, especially when she looks as delicious as she does right now. The combination of her tight pants and buttoned plaid shirt makes your head spin, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and buttons undone slightly so you can see the smooth expanse of milky skin beneath. Her gaze runs down your body again and you feel yourself shiver under her scrutiny, goosebumps instantly appearing where her eyes follow. She leans closer, pressing her lips to your rosy cheek. “What do you say, pretty girl?” 

“My eyes are up here,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat as she presses her lips to your neck, using the hand on your jaw to keep you still and precisely where she wants you. You can feel the tackiness of her lips as they press into your skin, moving their way up toward your ear. Melissa’s breathing has gotten heavier, and you know there must be a trail of pink across your skin from the redhead’s attack.  

“I know,” she breathes into your ear, her deepened voice making your knees weaken. “Can’t I admire my beautiful wife?” She asks. You can hear the smirk in her voice and feel it where her lips press into your jaw, immediately giving her intentions away, as if the thigh pressing into the heat between your legs and the fist she has burrowed into the back of your robe doesn’t already. That same hand snakes its way around your waist, your wife pulling you impossibly closer as she continues to melt your hard exterior and quickly make use of what little time you have left.  

She uses the positioning to her advantage by sliding her hand around your thigh and lifting, bringing her even closer to your core. The sudden movement causes you to gasp, and her smirk only intensifies against your neck, turning into a full-blown shit-eating grin. You wrap your leg around her waist from where you stand, not letting her move away any time soon.  

She pulls her head back to look into your eyes, the green entirely replaced by her black pupils. Her lipgloss has smudged past the edge of her lips, almost matching the rosy hue of her cheeks, and her hair is mussed from where your hands have been buried within her red locks. This is one of your favourite versions of Melissa. She’s clearly hungry for whatever you can give.  

“How long do ya think we’ve got before Janine panics over us not being at the bar?” she asks, eyes trained on the pink glittery trail she’s left across your jaw. She’ll have to help you reapply your make-up later.  

“Probably an hour?” You respond, following her eyeliner as she admires her work, “But it’s never going to take that long, let’s be real.” 

Your words cause her eyes to snap up to meet yours, her mouth breaking into an instant grin, the lines around her eyes growing deeper at her joy.  

“I say we test your theory,” she says seconds before she spins you, leading you backward toward your bed.  

That was three weeks ago and she had all but forgotten about her sweater, her thoughts preoccupied with the other more important issues at hand. That was until she had walked back into your home one evening after her usual Saturday afternoon lunch with her Nonna. You would usually attend these lunches, finding the older Sicilian woman’s takes on the world incredibly entertaining but a week of testing means that you were far too behind on grading.  

When Melissa closes the heavy wooden door to your home, her belly and heart full, she can’t help but notice the eerie quietness. The usual music is playing from the radio on the kitchen counter, but instead of blasting some cheesy pop song that Melissa loves to pretend to hate she’s greeted by the dulcet tones of Carly Simon’s subdued crooning.  

She makes her way across the wooden floor, stepping carefully so her high-heeled boots can’t make the usual cracking noise with each step. When she rounds the corner into the living room, she is greeted by the dim light of a candle that has nearly reached the end of its wick, the sickly sweet scent of vanilla filling the room. She can see where you sit on the couch, the top of your head where a hastily thrown up bun sits giving away your location. You clearly haven’t noticed her presence yet, not moving at the noise of her walking closer.  

When she rounds the side of the sofa, Melissa can see that you’re not in fact hard at work but have evidently fallen asleep mid-grading. Your legs are a tangled mess where they rest along the length of the sofa, the plastic that protected the material had been removed long ago when you moved in with the red head, your relationship still fairly new but clearly thriving.  

Your head rests against the cushion of the sofa behind you, pen still in hand and paper discarded where it lays in your lap. Melissa can’t help but laugh lightly, thinking about just how many times she’s managed to find you in this exact position over the years. Your fluffy socks and bright red plaid pyjama pants are the image of comfort, she thinks, as she takes in the sight of you- wait a second, is that her Eagles sweater? The sight makes her jaw fall open in disbelief and everything clicks into place.  

The subject changes whenever it was brought up in conversation suddenly make so much sense to her now. She can’t help but chuckle and shake her head slightly, impressed that you had managed to misdirect her for so long but so enamoured that you could do all that just for a sweater. She would have let you wear it if you had asked, but she thinks it’s probably better to make you feel the achievement of swindling her out of her favourite item of clothing.  

Her heart feels impossibly full as she looks down at you where you rest, glass askew on your face and soft snores filling the room. Even if the losing streak the Eagles endured at the end of the season are a result of Melissa not wearing her sweater on game days, she would take the losses a million times over if it meant she could come home to this sight every evening. 

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

[sparkrls]

High School Sweethearts

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry Styles is the rookie on the football team and he's really lost and Adelaide Heathers is the captain of the volleyball team who's just a little too high-strung

Author's Note: Originally an AU of my Mastermind series, available on Wattpad

Word Count: 13.6k

•••

A FOOTBALL WAS KICKED STRAIGHT INTO ADDIE'S STOMACH, KNOCKING THE WIND OUT OF HER.

Addie wheezed, clutching her gut as she tried to recover air, but her lungs seemed to disagree with her intent. As she struggled to breathe, she reminisced on the peacefulness she'd been experiencing only a few minutes earlier.

It'd been just like every Tuesday afternoon. Finish school, head straight to the changing rooms and then to Addie's one true home: the volleyball court.

And now she felt like her lungs were collapsing.

The one and only thing Addie absolutely despised about training were the boy's football team training right beside them. It wasn't a rare event to have a football kicked into the sand, especially whenever the season was beginning and the rookies had yet to pass that learning curve.

But goddamn it, Addie was going to rip Captain Tomlinson a new one after getting hit straight in the gut. She'd been caught completely off-guard, and as she was busy showing the new girl how to properly spike the ball, Addie didn't have the time to dodge.

When air finally made its way into Addie's lungs, Tomlinson appeared right in time, wincing as he watched the other girls crowd around their Captain. She'd been leaning against her knees for balance, but when she caught sight of the blue-eyed football captain, she pushed herself up to storm over to him.

Louis Tomlinson, the captain of the football team. Fluffy brown hair, electric blue eyes and a bright smile. He was the kind of guy you took home to meet your parents, with a class clown personality, but kind enough.

His fatal flaw, in Addie's opinion, was being absolutely infuriating. With no adults around, his charm slipped into a sarcastic, more snarky personality.

If he didn't accidentally injure several of Addie's team with his stupid footballs, she might actually like him.

However, at the moment, Addie was pissed at him.

Addie raised her finger, pointing it at Tomlinson's face as he backed away hastily, stumbling over his own feet as he raised his hands in defense. She'd shouted at him enough times about balls getting kicked into their court for him to learn his lesson and know she was dangerous when angry.

"You moron, Tomlinson!" Addie seethed, as the back of his knees hit the bench, and he couldn't back away anymore. "How hard is it to kick the ball inside your huge field?"

Louis shook his head in protest, eyes wide with fear. He was a good ten centimeters taller than her, and he was still just as terrified of her as the rest of the school. "'S not my fault! We got a new player, and- he- he struggles a lil bit."

"A little bit?" Addie prompted, raising an indignant eyebrow. She gestured towards the field. "He kicked it forward, how the fuck did the ball go in the complete opposite direction?"

"I don't fucking know!" Tomlinson shrugged, looking just as bewildered as she was. "I told you he struggles."

"Struggles is an understatement."

Addie glanced at Louis, who seemed to be awaiting permission to move. She huffed, taking a few slow steps away from him.

"Fine, you're off the hook this time, Tomlinson."

Louis sighed, clearly relieved.

Addie rolled her eyes. "You're lucky it was me who got hit. Any of my girls go down because of you, and you're dead. Got it?"

Louis nodded eagerly. "A'ight, I'll tell Styles to watch it."

"Maybe kick him off the team if he's that incompetent," Addie muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she watched some other boys on the football team start to approach. "Get your boys away from my court, Tomlinson, before I kick their ass."

"Noted," Louis turned around, clearing his throat before whistling, a sharp and loud sound that rang in the air. "Oi lads, back to the field. Move your arse, Oli." As the jersey-clad boys began heading back, Louis turned around and called, "I won't kick him off, just so you know."

"That's a stupid ass decision, just so you know," Addie shouted back.

Louis shrugged, in a 'what-can-you-do?' manner. "The lad's got potential."

Addie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "He can shove that potential up his ass."

Addie pronounced 'ass' in a strange way, some unique hybrid between an American and a British accent. After a year or so of studying in England, she'd picked up a few odd habits of pronouncing certain words with an accent. She hadn't made a full transition, so of course her friends picked on her for pronouncing things 'too American' and then 'too British'.

Turning back around, Addie clapped her hands together to catch her girls' attention. "Alright, let's get back to work."

An hour later, Addie treaded back to her car, sand sticking to her thighs where she'd sweat and then later fallen down, ponytail a mess and in the spare change of clothes she carried in her gym bag. Taking a swig of water, she dug her keys out of her pocket.

Glancing around at the parking lot, she couldn't find her car.

Crap.

She always forgot where she parked her car, and so every afternoon, it was the same tedious game of clicking the buttons on her keys until she eventually located her car.

But just as she started clicking the keys, the universe decided it hated Adelaide Heathers. A small drop of rain trickled onto Addie's cheek. And then another. And another.

And within a few moments, the clouds were unleashing torment upon Addie, and she resorted to using her gym bag as a cover while she ran at top speed towards the roof of the basketball court.

When she finally made it to refuge, she collapsed on the ground, sitting and heaving as she watched sheets of rain fall down. The sound echoed through the basketball court. It was built in a strange way, with a roof covering the court and the bleachers, but with one open wall so that the court was semi-open.

Nevertheless, it was good for rainy seasons like these, in case it started raining in the middle of training, the football and the volleyball teams would huddle in the bleachers as they waited for the storm to pass.

Addie's ratty Spiderman shirt was sticking to her skin from the rain that had managed to get her wet. Once she'd caught her breath after the sudden run, she stood and squeezed the water from her shirt.

A shriek ripped from her throat when she turned and found someone else in the court. Her hand flew to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Oh my god, you scared me. Jesus, don't be so quiet," Addie groaned, cheeks flushed with embarassment as she spoke, "You're like a ghost."

The boy looked sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

His hair was a messy array of curls, sticking to his forehead that was dripping with sweat, his nose looked like a bunny's, and his eyes-

Oh god, his eyes.

Addie could've stared at them forever, analyzed every combination needed to unlock that perfect lively green color.

He had the potential to look like a frat boy, but there was something about the nervousness in his smile, and the kindness in his eyes that let you know he wasn't that way. He seemed to be a good person.

And of course he was exactly Addie's type.

"'S alright," Addie waved him off, her mind already racing on all the ways she could get this pretty boy's number, "Who are you?- I mean, I know every single person on the sports team, but I can't recognize you."

He smiled with only one side of his mouth, and the curve of his dimple gleamed like a star. "I'm new. Harry Styles." He offered his hand.

Addie shook it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Adelaide Heathers. Captain of the volleyball team. " Realization then dawned on her. "Shit, you're Styles. You're the guy who hit me in the stomach with that ball!"

The guy with the shittiest kick in the world, Addie thought, but she wasn't nearly rude enough to say it out loud. Or at least to his face.

Harry grimaced. "I'm really sorry about that, by the way."

She liked the slow drawl of his voice. It reeled her in and she couldn't escape even if she wanted to.

And she really didn't want to.

"So you really decided to torment me twice in one day, huh? First a ball in the gut and then scaring the shit out of me," Addie joked, but it seemed Harry took it too seriously.

Harry rushed to say, "I swear I didn't do it on purpose- I mean, you may count the second one on purpose as I didn't announce my presence- but I didn't mean to scare you, I'm really a nice guy- oh shit, I swear I'm not one of those assholes who says they're a nice guy despite obviously not being a nice guy-"

Addie cut him off, "Alright, alright, calm down, Styles." She placed a firm hand on his bicep. "You're alright, I was just kidding around."

Harry sighed in relief. "Okay. That's good."

Addie smiled, endeared by his antics. "So, tell me, Styles-"

"You can call me Harry, by the way," Harry jumped in, cutting her off. She gave him a look. "Just- just so you know."

"Well, Styles, I quite like your last name," Addie smirked, noticing a small smile begin to appear on his lips. She had to admit, it gave her a little power rush to know she flustered him. "Anyways, as I was saying, how come you're here so late?"

Harry said, "Uh, I was waiting for the bus to arrive but it was really late. And then it started to rain. So..."

Addie nodded, humming in approval. She began to take slow, deliberate steps towards the bleachers. She sat down, leaning her elbows against the row behind her and gazing up at the ceiling. Harry followed suit, crossing his arms over his torso.

"What bus do you take?"

"The thirteen."

Addie frowned. "The thirteen made its last stop an hour ago. It passes by at five and that's the last one of the day."

"But-" Harry was aghast. "But training ends at five thirty."

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

Feeling sympathy for the poor boy who looked like a kicked puppy with his eyebrows all scrunched up in worry, Addie asked him, "Where do you live? I'm sure there's another bus that passes by there, or maybe the subway."

"You mean the tube?" Harry prompted, the corner of his lips pulled up into a teasing smile.

Addie scoffed, playfully slapping his arm. "Shut up, you're the only country that calls it that."

"Okay," Harry said, unconvincingly. He was clearly teasing her, and it made her uncomfortable. She was supposed to be the one in control.

Addie took the reins of the conversation, "Alright, so where do you live?"

Harry shook his head. "The thirteen is the only bus that passes near my house, and the tube drops me off too far off. My house is too close for the tube but too far to walk."

"The bus is your only shot, damn," Addie cursed, "Well, I've got a car, and I can give you a ride home if you want."

"Wait, really?" Harry sat up. "You sure?"

"Yeah, why not?" Addie shrugged. "Just let the rain ease up and we can go."

"You're an angel, Heathers. A lifesaver."

Addie bit her lip to suppress her grin. "It's no big deal."

The cutest guy ever just called me an angel, Addie thought, and she knew she must be blushing.

When the rain finally died down, they ran to Addie's car, getting a little lost along the way, but managing to make it semi-dry.

Laughing at their idiocies, Addie turned the car on and pulled out of the school parking lot. Harry made small talk, asking her about her American accent.

"I'm actually from Mexico," Addie said with a small chuckle. Harry raised his eyebrows, and she explained, "Since the US is right there beside Mexico, I learned to speak English with an American accent. Then, a year ago, my mom and I moved here to London, and I started at this school."

After her parents' divorce, everything had crumbled. She'd been holding on by a thread, and that thread was this school, this city and these people. A fresh start where no one knew her as the weird kid, or the geek, or that girl in the pictures in seventh grade.

Sure, she was still top of her class, and people were terrified to be around her because of her reputation for a sharp tongue and a cold stare. But she had friends who could see beyond that mask she wore, she had found volleyball, and she found her place in this world.

Thing were okay here.

Maybe not at home, but at her school. At work, and here in the car with this new kid.

"What about you? You new?"

Harry nodded, drumming his fingers against the car handle. "Yeah, transferred this year, and somehow got into the football team?" He turned to look at her. "Quick question, just how low are the standards? I mean, I got in, so I'm guessing it's less a bar and more like a pit in the ground?"

Addie laughed, grinning despite her promise to keep her cool around him. But there was something about his warmth that made her drop her defenses. "Their standards are pretty high. Tomlinson's a ruthless captain, so watch out for him. But he's got trust in you, says you got potential." She stopped at the red light and turned to look him in the eyes. "Tomlinson's a pain in my ass, but he's also got a good eye for players. If he lets you on his team, it's for good reason."

The light turned green, and Addie started driving again.

"Thanks."

"Just stating the facts. Maybe learn to kick the ball the right way, though."

"Aye, aye, cap'n." Harry saluted her, making her crack up.

Addie faked indignation, "Don't distract me, I'm driving!"

Harry gasped, following along with her joke. "I'm sorry. I'll stop being so hilarious. Oh wait, I'm always hilarious."

"You're an idiot, that's what you are."

Harry smiled.

Mark her words, someday, Harry Styles would be Adelaide Heathers' idiot.

---

"Does it really not bother your parents that you drive me home every day?" Harry commented after three weeks straight of Addie giving him a ride. "I mean, you must get home late, right?"

Every day after training, Addie would pick up the things they'd used, get changed, and make her way to the car. She'd find Harry walking on the street, and honked her horn until he finally gave up and let her drive him home.

After a week, he started helping her pick up after volleyball practice, saying it was the least he could do for all the trouble he put her through. She began letting him. It was just picking up a couple of cones and packing up the net.

Now, she'd gotten used to it, to having him help her while he chattered on about his day. If it were anyone else, she would've stayed in comfortable silence, but he always seemed to pull a conversation out of her. And every time he talked about his day, she listened intently, until he asked a question that forced her to open up a bit.

After picking up, they'd get changed in their separate locker rooms. Somehow, he always took half the time she did and would wait outside the door for her. Always had his curls damp because he'd squeeze water into them to make them curl again after messing them up during practice. And with that puppy-like grin on his lips.

Addie shrugged. "Nah, it's just my mom and me. Dad and sister are back in Mexico, and since my mom works most of the time, she doesn't really notice I'm gone." She chuckled to herself. "Guess being a workaholic just runs in the family."

It wasn't uncommon for parents to be absent because of long work hours. It wasn't like Addie's mom couldn't afford to cut back her hours. Even if her mom only worked part-time, with her salary, they could have a great life.

But, like Addie said, being a workaholic was in their genes. Addie supposed that was the reason she was so focused on school and volleyball and work. She was addicted to being busy. To praise for her achievements and her work ethic. That was how her entire family was wired. That was how she'd been raised.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together in that way they did when he was deep in thought. "Well, if your mom won't mind, why don't you stay tonight for dinner?"

Addie's face slackened in shock. She turned her entire head to look at Harry before remembering she was supposed to be driving. She adjusted her hands on the steering wheel and cleared her throat. "Um... I mean, are you sure? You don't have to.”

Addie didn't want his pity or his fake niceties. She wanted him to truly want her. Maybe want her for more than just a casual dinner with his family. More than just that one friend who drove him home every afternoon.

Harry smiled, placing his hand over Addie's hand. She tightened her clutch on the driving stick as she felt the unfamiliar feeling of someone else's skin on hers. It only took a few moments for her to relax under the comforting warmth of his hand. "I want you there."

Pulling his hand back, Harry sat back, looking straight ahead.

Meanwhile, a million thoughts were whirring through Addie's head as she tried to understand what his hand on hers in this enclosed space meant. What did it mean?

Was Harry feeling the butterflies swarming his stomach the way she was? Or was she alone in her rose-flushed cheeks and thoughts of jumping and falling for someone who might not catch her?

Addie stayed at Harry's for dinner that night. She met his sister, who was studying at a college on the other side of the city, and his parents who were the sweetest people she'd ever met. It was no wonder Harry had turned out so amazing when he'd grown up in this family.

There were no sharp comments, no subtle comments to dig under skin, just teasing banter and sibling loving each other. Harry looked at his sister with such admiration, Addie felt a small pang of jealousy. His parents listened intently as he talked passionately about his day at school.

And when they turned to get to know Addie better, their words were kind and understanding. It started with the simple questions about her parents and their work. And then they asked, "So, why do you like our Harry?"

"Is it a pity thing?" Gemma joked, hiding her smile behind a roll of bread. That was another thing Addie hadn't experienced in years. Carbs at a meal.

When Addie started getting into sports, her mom stopped buying bread, saying "You need to stay in shape. Imagine being captain of the volleyball team and being overweight" (She hadn't even been promoted to captain yet, but her mom assured her that she would get the position one way or another).

Addie was hesitant to grab bread, but it'd been so long and it tasted so good slathered in butter and dipped in the creamy tomato soup.

Snickering, Addie nudged Harry with her shoulder. "I guess he's decent. He did throw a ball at my stomach the first time we met."

Harry's Mom, Anne made a sound of shock. "Harry, you did what!?"

His eyes widened with alarm. "It was an accident! I swear-!"

"Harry, I swear to god, you make such bad first impressions," Anne chided him, shaking her head in bewilderment. "Did you apologize?"

"Yes, Mom."

When dinner was over, they helped clean up and then Harry took her to his room, showing her around his house.

Harry showed her his small collection of CD's, blushing when she teased him for the obscene amount of Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks.

"I have Rumors on vinyl," Addie said as she scanned the CD, noting the small crack at the edge of the plastic case.

Harry's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was a gift from my dad." The last gift he gave her before she left for London. They'd sat down in the living room, next to the dozen of packed boxes, put the vinyl on and skipped to 'The Chain'. He'd held her hand and squeezed it, promising he would visit as soon as he could.

It'd been eighteen months and he hadn't visited even once. Calls were rare and short. Texts were a little more frequent, but still scarce.

Addie looked up, setting the CD down back onto its shelf, and wandering around the rest of the room, hands in her pockets. "You should come over sometime. I'll play it."

Harry's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yeah!" He exclaimed. And then he seemed to realize how eager he sounded, and cleared his throat, saying in a more laidback tone, "Yeah. I guess that'd be cool."

Pretending to look at the poster above his bed, Addie tried to hide her stupidly huge grin.

Harry had stars, those glow in the dark stars that every kid wanted in their room. The only lighting in the room was his desk light, so she could see a bit of the glow in the stars. They were randomly placed on the ceiling.

Even if they were real stars, she doubted any of them would shine as bright as Harry’s eyes as he met her gaze. His cheeks flushed a light pink, lips curved in a nervous smile.

Addie’s breath caught in her throat. She could reach out and graze the softness of his lips or the curve of his nose. He looked so soft in the absolute best way possible. Soft like the petal of a rose. Soft like the first stream of sunlight through the window.

The spell of the moment was broken by the door being shoved open. It made a loud sound as it hit the wall.

Both Harry and Addie jumped, startled. Standing in the doorway was Harry's dad, Robin. "Keep the door open at all times, Haz." He glanced between the two teenagers, who looked equally embarrassed despite standing quite far apart. And only being friends. "Have fun."

Once Robin was gone, Harry groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "I'm sorry. My parents are embarrassing."

Shaking her head, Addie laughed. "No, I think your parents are really cool." She smiled softly, sitting down on the gray blanket of Harry's bed. He sat down beside her. "They really care about you. You're lucky to have parents like them."

Harry's gaze softened. "They are pretty great."

Addie would kill to have parents like Harry's. Caring and nurturing, who actually gave a shit about their kids.

Clearing her throat, Addie stood up. "This was great, but I should get back soon. School night and everything."

A pang of disappointment shot through her chest as she remembered she had to go. There was a very stupid part of her that really wanted to stay with Harry forever. A very stupid and foolish part of her. The same part that felt butterflies each time her eyes met his and drove him home every afternoon just to get a few minutes with him.

Addie waved goodbye to Harry's parents, thanking them for dinner as she walked past their room. Harry walked her to her car, where he then hugged her and hesitated before placing a swift kiss to her cheek.

They both tried to play it cool, even though the two were flushed tomato red, and Addie stumbled as she got into her car.

The entire drive home, her cheek tingled where she'd been kissed. And if her fingers wandered over the lingering warmth, and her mind ran with thoughts of where this could lead, well... that was just for her to know.

---

Addie lost the match.

The first match of the season, and they'd been beaten by a landslide. It was absolutely pathetic how they'd barely gotten any scores in. The match was so clearly dominated by the opposing team, it was actually sad. But most of all, it made her realize just how shitty of a captain she was.

She wasn't made for leadership. All she had was her own strength, but she didn't have enough to keep everyone else moving.

When they got to their locker rooms, it was dead silent as they took turns in the showers. No one wanted to speak, afraid it would only make the moment real.

But it was when Lexi started sniffling, and Alice turned to hug her that Addie couldn't take the silence anymore.

"It's okay," Alice murmured to Lexi.

Lexi shook her head. "I'm the one who didn't hit that final ball. It's my fault."

"Lexi," Addie spoke. Everyone turned to look at her. All eyes were on her. This could make or break the moment. "We're a team, alright? One of us lose, all of us lose. And it's okay to fail sometimes, that just means we gotta work harder." She got to her feet, sitting beside Lexi and pulling her into her side. The younger girl clung to Addie, searching for some comfort. "We lost a match, but it's the first one of the season, we're still learning how to work together and that's okay. Now we know what we need to work on, and we'll do better next time."

"I'm sorry," Lexi sniffled. "I tried my best, I swear."

Addie's heart ached as she watched the girl cry. "It's okay. I know."

By the time the locker room emptied, Addie was the only one left. She always made sure to be the last one to leave, just to make sure the rest of her team were okay.

She cried in the shower, totally alone in her sorrows as she only had herself to blame. Maybe the whole team had lost, but she was the leader. Addie was the one who was supposed to steer them to victory, not to this.

This had been Addie's shot to prove herself, and she'd thrown it in the trash and set it on fire.

Addie locked up the locker room, and made her way to the parking lot, digging through her bag for the keys.

She found someone leaning on the hood of her car. Curly hair swept back as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes, breathing in the fall air.

Addie clicked the car keys, and the car made a sound, startling Harry. He jumped, stumbling forward and barely catching himself before he fell face-first onto the asphalt.

She snickered at his reaction, pushing past him to place her gym bag in the backseat of her car. "Hey, Styles."

Harry leaned forward, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He'd made it a tradition to always greet her that way. "Hi, Heathers."

Addie tried not to blush and failed spectacularly. "You looking for a ride?"

"You offering one?"

Addie shrugged, gesturing with her head. "Door's open." Harry got into the car eagerly, already buckling his seatbelt by the time she was barely sitting down.

Addie buckled her seatbelt and placed the keys in the engine-

"How'd the match go?"

Something inside of Addie snapped, and for the second time that day, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She sniffled, trying to wipe the tears away before he could notice, but it was too late.

Harry leaned forward, grasping her face with his hand, gently turning her towards him. "Love, are you okay?"

Addie squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she would stop crying. Harry probably thought she was embarrassing. She couldn't keep it together for even a few minutes. That was certainly embarrassing. All he wanted was a ride home, he certainly didn't need to see her tears.

"Ads? You can talk to me," Harry said, his voice ever so gentle, as if she were so fragile he could break her with just a few words. "Love?"

Addie opened her eyes, allowing him to see the tears swimming, the hurt hidden behind her amber eyes. "We lost. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up."

A strangled sob escaped her throat despite her best attempt to choke it back. Harry shushed her, leaning forward, the brake digging into his gut, but he endured the pain just so he could hug her.

And despite everything that had been ingrained in Addie's mind for so long- that crying was showing weakness, and weakness meant shame, and shame was the worst crime of all-

Addie took his comfort. She clung to it like a lifeline, because she was drowning and Harry was her lifejacket.

This was all she had ever needed all along.

Because even now, when she felt so incredibly low and pathetic, she didn't feel alone. Addie didn't feel alone, instead she felt a hope creeping into her life the way a candlelight slowly lights in a dark room.

"You didn't fuck up," Harry murmured into her ear, holding her tighter. Addie closed her eyes, bathing in the warmth of his touch. "You didn't, okay? You're amazing, and smart and so dedicated and maybe you lost this time- but you're goddamn Adelaide Heathers, and when you fall down, you get back up."

Addie weakly asked, "And if I can't get back up?"

"You will." There was no doubt in Harry's voice as he spoke. "Maybe you'll struggle a little, but you'll get back up. You always do. And you know that I'm always there to help you up."

"I don't feel like getting back up anymore," Addie protested, pulling away from Harry's hug with regret. She was bitter as she cried, "I keep getting kicked down and getting back up and I'm so sick and tired of it, and I just-" Her breath was shaky as she inhaled -"I just want to give up already."

Harry placed a gentle hand on her arm, a soft reassurance that he was there. "You can stay down a little while, but you'll get back up again. That's just how you're wired."

"I don't know if that's true anymore."

"Well, I know it's true," Harry defended, not aggressive but more insistent as he said, "Because I know you. And you trust me, right? So you can trust me when I say that you'll get back up. And even if you don't, then I'll be there anyways."

Addie sniffled, quickly wiping her tears away. "You're a really great person, Haz. Have I told you I'm really glad I have you in my life?"

Harry shook his head with a light chuckle. "No, but it's good to know."

"I mean it," Addie insisted, her voice still thick with tears. "I don't know where I'd be without you. Thanks for kicking that ball into my stomach."

Harry threw his head back laughing. The sound rang through the air like the chiming of bells, making Addie feel like she was on a cloud knowing she'd made Harry laugh. She had made him happy, even if only for a few seconds.

Once Harry's laughter had settled down, he turned his head to look at her. Something clouded his eyes, like a lavender haze falling over them.

His voice dropped an octave as he said, "I really like you, Adelaide Heathers."

"You're not half-bad yourself, Harry Styles," she whispered back, eyes flickering down to his lips.

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination or if Harry was leaning forward just a few inches, about to meet her halfway. And there was a yearning to crash her lips against his and take what she'd wanted all this time.

And then her phone rang.

Their bubble burst just like that, and Addie could recognize the ringtone. She answered, "Yeah?"

"Adelaide," her mom warned her, "You greet people with 'hello' not 'yeah'."

"Sorry, Mom," Addie said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What's up?"

"Why aren't you home yet?"

"I told you I was having dinner at Harry's tonight," Addie said, frowning in confusion. She looked over at Harry, who was looking at her for an explanation. She simply shrugged, as confused as he was.

Mom scoffed. "I didn't say you could go."

"Yeah, you did, Mom," Addie reminded her, "You told me yesterday morning it was fine. I told you I had my match and then after, I was heading to Harry's for dinner."

"You had a match today?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Don't use that tone with me," Mom snapped at her. Yeah, well, you missed my match, so get off your high horse, bitch, Addie thought bitterly. "Did you win?"

"No, we didn't."

"I'm disappointed in you, Addie. I thought you would do better."

Addie was ready to snap. Not only did her mother miss her match, but she had the audacity to then be disappointed in Addie?

Then again, her mom's words hit her like a punch in the gut. Even her mom thought she'd win. How many people had she let down today?

"Look, I'm headed to Harry's, I'll be back before curfew."

"I want you home at nine."

"Mom, it's seven-"

"Nine."

"Fine."

Addie hung up the phone and turned it on silent, knowing her mom would try and call her back just to tell her off. "Can I stay until midnight tonight?"

"I thought your curfew was eleven," Harry said, trying to piece together Addie's interaction with her mother.

"It is."

Harry waited for an explanation until he realized none was coming and nodded. "Stay however long you want to."

Addie got home at one am, by which time her mom was passed out on the couch, a glass of sugar-free lemonade beside her. She walked past her and headed to her room.

And that night, she dreamt of sitting in a car and no stupid phones interrupting a kiss with Harry. She dreamt of holding his hand and kissing him like he belonged to her.

The next morning, Addie was numb to her mom's yelling and didn't even give a shit when she was grounded. Addie realized she didn't really give much of a shit when it came to her mom. Not anymore.

She was fed up.

---

Addie whistled, "Horan! Come over here, you idiot!"

Niall whipped his head around, blue eyes sparkling with glee as he caught sight of the younger girl. "Heathers!" He ran towards her, hugging her tightly as she returned the embrace with matching eagerness. "How have you been, love?"

"I've been good, babe," Addie answered with ease, used to the friendly flirting with Niall. They pulled back from the hug. "What about you? You're the one who disappeared for two months, you dick." She punched him in the arm.

"Okay, first off, ouch. Second, it was actually really good?" Niall answered, slinging his arm around her shoulder and leading her towards the bench on the edge of the field. "I was worried 'cause 's been a while since I've visited my fam, right? But it was nice."

He was wearing his football uniform, and the scratchy fabric of the jersey infuriated Addie, but after last year of near-constant physical contact with Niall, she'd gotten used to it for the most part.

They ended up sitting down on the bench, chatting while Addie slung her legs over Niall's, always maintaining some kind of physical contact. She needed it after he'd gone away for two months to Ireland to be with his family.

Louis arrived fifteen minutes later, looking slightly disgruntled with his hair a mess and the front of his jersey dripping wet and spreading to his shorts. Addie took him in, raising an eyebrow at the water that didn't seem to have spread to the back.

"Niall, aren't you supposed to be warming up?" Louis grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to fix the disheveled mess. "And Heathers, don't you have a training to lead?"

"Don't you know how to drink water?" Addie retorted, looking him up and down.

Louis scoffed. "It was your stupid boyfriend that did this to me. Got distracted looking at this-" He gestured towards their intertwined legs -"And spilled a whole fucking shit bottle of water on me. Grabbed my arm in a fucking vice too. Pretty sure I'mma get bruises from the fucking thing."

Louis' swearing filter was removed whenever he was faced with the smallest of annoyances.

"Boyfriend?" Niall sat up, staring at Addie. "Fifteen minutes talking shit and you didn't mention a boyfriend?" He then turned to look at Louis. "Our little Heather has grown up and gotten a boyfriend at long last?"

Addie flicked Niall in his forehead, where the dark roots were beginning to grow below the bleach blond. "Asshole. Both of you. No, I don't have a boyfriend. Louis' just being a little shit."

Both of the boys looked unconvinced. Louis rolled his eyes. "Sure, he's not your boyfriend. You just look at each other with lovey-dovey eyes, and you drive him home after training every day, and he walks to the other side of the school just to be with you for ten minutes during break. He's not your boyfriend."

Addie groaned. "Goddamn it Tomlinson, he's not my boyfriend and he's not interested in me!" Louis and Addie had had this conversation a million times before. It was infuriating that he kept insisting that Harry was interested in her. This crush was not a mutual thing.

"Have you ever hung out with him outside of school?" Niall asked.

Addie made a sound. "I mean... not really. I just stay for dinner a couple times a week."

"What?" Louis shrieked, this being new information for him. "Why didn't you tell me that part?"

"'S not important."

"You've known each other for two months and you're already having dinner with his family?"

"It's not like that!"

Addie knew it was because Anne knew more about her family situation than Harry. She was always the one who insisted that Addie stay over for dinner and talked to her and cared for her.

In the last five weeks or so, Anne had done more parenting towards Addie than her own mother had done in the last two years.

"You know damn well that boy is head over heels for you," Louis said, making a tsk sound with his tongue. "Mark my words, Adelaide Heathers and Harry Styles are going to date someday."

Driving Harry home that afternoon was a quiet ordeal. They had their routine down to a T, and it seemed neither of them were in a particularly talkative mood.

Addie wasn't sure what was going on with Harry, but she was dealing with the fact that she had a huge crush on him and couldn't get him out of her head despite knowing he wasn't interested either. Plus her grades had been slipping lately and her average had dropped from a perfect 10 to a pretty good 9, but it was sure to result in another fight with her mom. And training had been a disaster, everyone was off their game and tournaments started in two weeks.

Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong that day. Addie didn't want to take it out on Harry, and she didn't need him to know she was struggling and weak. So she stayed quiet, to avoid questions.

But then five minutes passed and Harry asked, "Who was that guy you were with earlier?"

Addie frowned. "Who? The blond guy?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. Something about his demeanor was off. He was too closed off, filled with unnecessary tension. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Addie laughed. "No, he's not my boyfriend. His name is Niall, and he's a really good friend of mine." She snickered to herself. "I spent all of last year battling rumors that he and I were dating, but we're just friends."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Addie cleared her throat. "Niall's amazing. And we've always had this dynamic of flirting with each other, but he's just a friend. He... he was the first person to ever talk to me when I got here. Without him, I probably never would've talked to anyone. Today was the first time I saw him since summer break, so I was happy to see him."

"He's on the football team," Harry prompted. He was almost reluctant as he admitted, "Seems like a nice guy."

"He is. He really is," Addie answered immediately, quick to praise her friend. "Last year, he was basically my best friend, so I ended up hanging out with the football team a lot. Now that he's back, I'm willing to bet he's going to start dragging me along to a lot of things, so get ready for me to annoy you a lot more."

A weak smile began to appear on Harry's lips. "You could never annoy me."

"Yeah well, you'll get sick of me eventually. Tomlinson hated me the first couple of months, but he was outvoted by everyone else who wanted me to stick around. He eventually tolerated me," Addie chuckled. "He's not a close friend, but we're on good terms now. I think he just hated that no one liked his girlfriend Eleanor but everyone liked me."

"I thought you said you weren't Niall's girlfriend," Harry snapped, his voice brisk and cold.

Addie felt a small pang of annoyance. She was hanging on by a thread and her patience was running thin. "Yeah. I'm not."

"So why would you compare yourself to Louis' girlfriend?"

"Because everyone else did. I wasn't Niall's girlfriend, but I was basically his date." Addie clenched the steering wheel, reminding herself Harry wasn't the one annoying her. She couldn't take her anger out on an innocent.

Harry scowled. "Yeah, right."

"The fuck's your problem, man?" Addie snapped at him, finally having enough. "You're pissed I have a best friend? That's pretty fucking jealous of you, don't you think?"

"No, I just think it's ridiculous how you lead me on for two months and then your boyfriend shows up," Harry seethed, crossing his arms and looking out the window. "Real fucking nice that feels."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Addie exclaimed.

She tried to laugh it off, but it had been so annoying to try and date guys only to have them warded off by her best friend. If her boyfriend felt uncomfortable about her closeness with Niall, she'd set boundaries. But no one wanted fucking communication.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Addie growled in frustration, feeling a bubbling rage underneath her skin, and she needed to get it out. So she pulled into Harry's driveway and snapped at him, "Get the fuck out, you jackass!"

"Gladly, you prick," Harry retorted, grabbing his gym bag and slamming the door.

"Don't slam my fucking door!" Addie shouted, rolling the window down. She was glad Harry's parents wouldn't be home to hear this.

Harry whirled around, voice dripping with venom. "You didn't even pay for the fucking car. Your mommy gave it to you to make up for the fact that she doesn't give two shits about you!"

Ouch.

That one dug deep into her heart.

Because it was true.

"It's better than being an insane jealous asshole like you, who's always so obsessed with me!" Addie yelled. "I bet Tomlinson only put you on the team because he felt sorry for how fucking pathetic you are."

Addie knew that would strike a nerve. Deep down, Harry was an insecure person who was always worried about his worth. And there was a part of Harry that truly thought he didn't deserve his place on the team.

"Yeah? Well, everyone thinks you're a cold, narcissistic bitch who doesn't give a shit about her friends and just nitpicks and criticizes everything she can!" Harry yelled, knowing every word would dig deep into her intrinsic insecurities the same way she had.

"Well, this narcissistic bitch is telling you to get a new fucking ride!" Addie shouted, noticing Harry's blue plastic bottle still in the passenger seat and throwing it through the window, hitting him in the arm.

Addie pulled out of the driveway, vision swimming with tears. She managed to stay in one piece until she got home and hid in her bedroom, collapsing into tears.

Addie cried herself to sleep that night.

---

"Hi, Mrs. Horan," Addie smiled as she opened the door. She tugged her sleeves down, fiddling with them in her palms.

Mrs. Horan smiled back at Addie. "Hi, Addie, honey. Niall's down in the basement with the other boys."

"Thank you," Addie made her way through the hallway and down the stairs of the basement. There was one step near the bottom that was creaky and felt like it might break at any moment, so she usually just skipped the last few steps and jumped down onto the floor.

The sound of her landing alarmed the other boys to her presence. Niall leaned over the back of the couch. "Babe, you're here!"

"Honey, I'm home!" Addie said in a sing-song voice as she approached Niall, hugged him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She then threw herself onto the armchair beside him, kicking her legs over the armrest as she watched the other boys playing FIFA. "God, I forgot how much you suck at FIFA, Tomlinson."

"Shut up," Louis muttered under his breath, sitting on the edge of the couch as he lost miserably to Liam.

"Oof, that's gotta be embarassing," Addie winced in mockery as Louis lost. He looked over to her and gave her a dirty look. In turn, she smiled innocently. And then noticed the raven-haired boy beside Louis. "Hey, Zayn."

Zayn smiled. He had this really warm and kind smile that made you feel like you were at home. "Addie."

Zayn played defense on the football team, while Niall was midfielder and Louis was forward. And then there was the final one of the bunch, Liam, who was the goalkeeper.

Against her will, Addie had learned most of football terminology last year because she'd hung out with these four boys a lot. She'd gone to every match she could, and would never admit it, but actually got invested in the game.

"Hi, Payne," Addie smiled at him. He waved back as he passed the control to Zayn.

Niall caught Addie's attention with the wave of the control. "You want in?"

"Nah, I'm shit at FIFA, you know that," Addie shook her head. "I'll watch." She'd always sucked at video games for the most part, but whenever they played Street Fighter or Mario Kart, she kicked everyone's ass. So, she usually stuck to just watching them play and insulting them as if she wasn't ten times worse than them.

Then, when Louis and Zayn took a smoke break, going upstairs to Niall's room to stick their heads out the windows like dogs so Niall's parents didn't catch them, Addie transferred to the couch, sitting down next to Liam for a change.

Once Liam won his round, he passed the control to Addie, giving her advice and tips on how to be better. She didn't win the round, but it was the closest she'd gotten to being half-decent.

"Not half-bad," Liam mused, giving her a reassuring smile. "You've got potential, Heathers."

"And that potential will remain unfulfilled," Addie insisted, passing Liam the control.

Liam twisted his body around, turning to look at her properly. "Hey, tell me something."

"Something."

Liam nudged her with his shoulder. "What happened between you and Louis? You two used to be like this," he twisted two fingers together, "And now you barely even talk."

Addie sighed, sitting back and crossing her arms. She looked to Niall for help, who shrugged and gave her a look that told her she needed to tell Liam.

"Look, during summer break, there was this one beach trip we took. It was Louis with Eleanor and me with Niall," Addie began to explain. "Eleanor mentioned she wanted a spot on the team. She thought I could help her out, and she thought that just because we were friends, I would give her the spot. I told her we should play a match and then we'll see."

Addie recounted the rest of the afternoon. They'd played the game, and at the end, Addie had been disappointed in Eleanor. She'd refused to give her the spot. Eleanor was furious. She snapped at Addie, calling her an incompetent captain and making unsupported claims that she was doing this just to lord her power over Eleanor.

"My cat plays better than you do," Addie had snapped at Eleanor. Granted, the comment had been unnecessary, but Eleanor was being a dick about the whole situation.

It was then that Louis and Niall appeared, and they both had stepped in to calm the girls down.

Addie had made the offer to give Eleanor personal training once a week, and said, "You can take volleyball lessons all you want this year, but you're not making the team. Get some actual practice in and then we'll talk. But right now, you're incompetent and your play is lousy."

Louis had defended Eleanor. Addie was pissed at both of them, and Niall was stuck in the middle as a mediator.

"Louis took Eleanor's side, said I was out of line with my comments," Addie huffed to Liam. "But she assumed I would give her the spot just because we were friends when she's a shit player! I let her down nicely, told her to work on her game and maybe she'd make the team next year. But then she called me incompetent and a dick."

"She was way out of line," Liam agreed. "If she doesn't make the team, it's because there's a better player who deserved the spot more, and just because you're friends, doesn't entitle her to that spot."

"Exactly!" Addie exclaimed, getting frustrated once again with the situation. "And even now that they've broken up, Louis refuses to apologize. I know I have nothing to apologize for. I stood my ground and I spoke the truth and Eleanor was the one who was out of line."

The door to the basement opened and the thuds of footsteps along the stairs rang through the room. Addie pursed her lips, sitting back on the couch as Liam and Niall began another round.

Louis sat down on the arm of the couch, a few inches from brushing shoulders with Addie. "What'd I miss, lads?"

Addie sat up. "I'm going to get some water."

Liam glanced at her furtively, and then at Louis. Addie shook her head, silently asking him to keep it under wraps.

Addie headed upstairs, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and then going back down.

"-Styles has been off his game lately," Louis said, ranting to Liam whose eyes were stuck to the screen. "He's got potential and he was doing good, but if he keeps going like this, I'm worried I'll have to bench him."

Addie had gone stiff at the mention of Harry's name, reminded of the last two weeks of dead silence and cold shoulders in the hallways of school. Every car ride home from training seemed too short, too silent without the comforting chatter of Harry's slow drawl.

Instead of home cooked dinners with Harry's family, she had to settle for microwaving week-old leftovers alone in her room.

Addie couldn't help it. She needed to know about Harry and most of all, she felt concern for him. Football had become so important for him. He loved it.

"You're going to make Styles a reserve?" Addie prompted, taking a swig of water as she sat down.

Louis made a face and nodded. "I don't wanna. I know he can do it, but he's just- I dunno."

Addie frowned. "I thought things were going well."

"Yeah, but he hasn't been pulling his weight lately. And our first game is next week, I can't have any dead weight. Nothing against him, he's just not been the best player lately."

"I get it," Addie prompted, "No matter the personal relationship you have with a person, you gotta think about the team. I'm captain, I know how this goes." She gave Louis a look. "But I guess it only really counts when it's your team we're talking 'bout, right?"

Louis finally processed what Addie was implying, and his expression switched immediately. "Jesus, Heathers, seriously? Get over yourself."

He stood up, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

That was always the problem with Addie and Louis. Both of them had huge prides and were equally stubborn.

But goddamn it, Addie was sick and tired of all of her friends being stubborn assholes. First Harry, and now Louis?

"Lou," Liam warned, a sharp edge to his voice. He looked like an adorable puppy most of the time, but when it came to his friends, he would do anything to protect him. Which sometimes meant putting on an intimidating facade.

Louis glanced at Liam. "What?"

Liam gave him a look, but Louis simply rolled his eyes.

Niall then stepped in, deciding to change the subject. Somehow he was always the peace negotiator in Addie's life. She should find a way to thank him. "So, Addie, speaking of Harry, have you talked to him?"

"Talked to him?" Zayn echoed, looking confused at what Niall said.

"After their fight," Niall stated, seemingly confused that they didn't know what he was saying.

Addie immediately snapped, "Niall." She didn't need her dirty laundry aired out for everyone to see.

He seemed to realize he was the only one who knew about Addie and Harry's fight. "Oh. Oops?"

Sighing, Addie hid her face in her hands. These boys were the most troublesome people she knew, and she just knew they were going to stick their nose in her business.

Liam asked, "You and Harry had a fight?"

"When?" Zayn asked.

"Who started it?" Liam prompted.

"Okay, stop," Addie threatened them, giving them a sharp glare. She inhaled deeply, and sat up. "'Bout two weeks ago, Harry and I had a bit of an argument-" Zayn paused their game. "Seriously?" He shrugged, and Addie rolled her eyes.

She continued, "I'm not even sure what the fight was about. It started when he made the assumption that Niall was my boyfriend. I explained to him that we were friends, and it was a mistake most people made."

None of them were fazed by this information. They were the ones who had spent most of last year being asked whether Niall and Addie were together, and always were the first ones to deny the rumors that spread.

"I don't know, at some point I made some comment that I guess pissed him off. He said I had been leading him on for weeks only for my boyfriend now to show up, I said he wasn't my boyfriend, he said 'sure' in the most passive fucking aggressive way possible. I told him to get the fuck out of my car, so he did but he slammed the door so I got pissed at him and that's when it really went off the rails."

"What'd you say?" Liam asked, gaze softened with sympathy as he listened to her story.

Addie scratched the back of her neck, looking at the floor. "He said..." her voice was just above a whisper, barely loud enough for them to hear, "He said 'you didn't even pay for the car. Your mom just bought it for you to make up for how shitty she is."

Liam's face dropped as the realization of the statement settled in. All of them had learned the hard way what Addie's mom was like.

"So I told him he was an insecure jealous asshole. And that Tomlinson only gave him the spot because he felt sorry for him," Addie confessed, guilty as sin as she did. "He told me that everyone thought I was- and I quote, 'a cold, narcissistic bitch who doesn't give a shit about her friends and just nitpicks and criticizes everything she can'".

"The fuck?" Louis exclaimed. Addie's eyes looked up from where they'd been stuck to wooden floorboards, to find that Louis' face was filled with outrage. "That little shit didn't say that to you."

Addie's face went cold. "Look, it's not important, alright?"

"Addie, he called you a bitch."

"He said everyone thought I was a bitch."

"Same difference-"

"Don't act as if you're so high and mighty," Addie snapped at Louis, finally sick and tired of him. "Harry's not the only one who's treated me like shit lately."

"That's different," Louis defended, sitting up. On instinct, Addie sat up too, glaring at him even if he was slightly taller than her. Meanwhile, Zayn and Liam watched the two argue with equally shocked faces.

"How is it different?"

"Because you're the one who's too stubborn to admit you were being a jackass!"

"Eleanor was a shit player and you know it!" Addie seethed, taking a step closer to him. Her anger was beginning to bubble over and become something uncontrollable.

Louis argued, "That doesn't mean you could call her a moronic bitch!"

"Wait, you did what?" Liam exclaimed at the same time Zayn said, "You called her what?"

"I only called her a bitch because she deserved it!" Addie shouted back, "She called me a dirty skank, and if you'd given one damn about me, I would've told you that. But you decided to side with your lying, conniving girlfriend who- suprise surprise!- is now your ex." She could feel the tears falling freely down her cheeks. She always cried when she was angry. "I thought you were family! I called you my fucking brother and you didn't even hear my side of the story before deciding I wasn't- before cutting me out of your life."

Embarrassment crawled under Addie's skin as she realized the huge argument she'd just had in front the other three. She sniffled, quickly wiping her tears away.

Addie scrambled to grab her coat and keys, leaving a shocked Louis to simply stare at the space she'd once occupied. Protests came from the other boys, most noticeably Niall, who was beginning to get up, "Addie!"

She ignored them all and ran up the stairs, not even bothering to say goodbye to Mrs. Horan as she rushed to her car. She wiped the tears out of her eyes, and clicked the button to unlock her car-

A pair of firm hands grabbed her, turning her around. Addie yelped, and Louis let his grip go slack. "Did she really call you that?"

Addie shrugged. "Everyone loves to slut-shame, right?"

It was easy to act as if it was no big deal that everyone said that about her. Addie had spent her whole life pretending not to care about other people's opinions. It was second nature at this point.

But Louis saw through that cheap mask. "She shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have sided with her." His voice broke, and just a small piece of fragility broke through, "I called you my sister too."

Addie couldn't help it. She yearned for family, for belonging and love. She'd forgive Louis a million times over because that's what it took.

She hugged him tightly, tears running down her cheeks and onto his denim jacket. She sniffled, "Sorry."

Louis shook his head, burying his face deeper in Addie's black coat, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "Let it all out, babe."

"I love you, asshole," Addie muttered through choked tears.

Louis sniffled, just slightly as he pulled back and looked her in the eyes. His blue eyes were glassy with tears. "I'm really sorry I was a dick."

Addie sniffled. "It's okay. Family sticks together, right? No matter what."

"No matter what."

---

Addie had bruises all over her knees and elbows, and she was about to pass out from exhaustion. But she put on a brave face for her girls, and led them through the match.

This match would determine whether or not their team made it to State Championships, which meant all the pressure was on Addie.

This was her team, the one she had spent countless weeks, days and hours training. Sleepless nights thinking about strategy and sweaty afternoons training until the sun went down and all her energy was spent- it all boiled down to this moment.

Addie's role as Captain would be put to the test. She couldn't fail.

And yet she didn't feel alone. All she had to do was look over at the bleachers and she'd see the people who had her back. Niall and Louis' cheers stood out from the rest, both from the accents and the volume of the shouts, but Addie could always make out Liam and Zayn's cheers even over the other two. And then there was Oli, a ginger-haired boy who'd been dragged along by Louis. He was kind, and he cheered for Addie even if they hadn't interacted much before.

Addie took a sip of her water and grinned as she gave a thumbs-up to her boys, even with sweat dripping down her spine and the thoughts whirling through her mind.

Her mom hadn't shown up. She never showed up. It'd been so painful every time for Addie last year, but it had been her four boys who had filled that gap left by her mom.

Ever since Zayn caught Addie crying right outside of the locker room as she tried to call her mom, but reached nothing but an answering machine, the four of them had ganged up and decided they would be Addie's supportive family. "You're not getting rid of us anytime soon," Zayn had winked at her that first match they'd shown up.

Addie wiped her sweat away and grabbed her teammates. "Okay, Tara, don't be scared to move through your zone, and Claire, hit the ball a little harder, it was too close to the net, alright?" The girls nodded with a grim look in their face. This was war. Addie clapped her hands. "Let's go."

Despite their best efforts, it came down to the final set. Each team had won two sets, and now it was just a matter of seeing who could get that final set.

Addie grabbed her girls, and told them, "Alice, stop hovering over Tara, and Lexi, when you spike the ball, hit it towards that girl, Grace. She won't see it coming. We've got this. We worked for this. We can do it."

It was excruciating to watch the other team hit the ball back with such ease, while some of Addie's girls were beginning to wear thin because of exhaustion. They kept going, but it was looking bad.

And it was when their captain, Jordan, hit the ball just a little too far out of Addie's reach that she finally panicked. Lexi was the only one who could reach it. But she was always afraid, scared that she would be the one who made the mistake.

But Lexi gave a running start and jumped, hitting that spike at just the right angle for Jordan to slide forward, scraping her body against the sand, with her hand just an inch away from where the ball hit the sand.

It was the boys' loud cheering that snapped Addie out of her daze. Lexi gave her a tight hug, and their team gathered in a circle, catching their breath as they shared grins of success.

They'd won.

Addie had won.

---

Addie's wet hair seeped into the back of her shirt, leaving a dark stain on the jersey, an Eagles shirt, one she'd stolen from Harry. She could still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and the exhilaration of making it to State Championships made it impossible to wipe the grin off her face.

Maybe Addie still had a long way to go to Nationals, but in her first year as Captain and second year on the team, she'd qualified for State. That was a hell of an achievement.

Addie grabbed her gym bag, once again the final one to leave the room. She always made sure her team was all set before getting cleaned up herself. It was second nature by now.

She was supposed to head over to Tara's now, where her team and her friends would be waiting to celebrate, probably with a few packs of Louis' cigarettes and some six-packs of cheap beer. It was the kind of celebration Addie could've never appreciated last year, but it had turned into her own kind of comfort. Her home. Her family.

Addie locked the locker room behind her, making her way past the empty volleyball court and the extensive football field, breathing in the smell of freshly cut grass. They always cut the grass before a football match, and next weekend there would be one. Addie would come and cheer for her boys, no doubt about it.

She dug around for her keys in the pockets and zippers of her bag, finally finding it and clicking it. She turned towards the sound, and found a certain curly-haired boy leaning against the hood.

Addie froze, unsure of how to proceed, but she made her way towards him. His head was ducked, and he seemed to be staring at his hands. Addie shouted, "You better not be asking for a ride!"

Harry's head snapped up, green eyes landing on her. He blinked, scrambling to stand up straight, grabbing something he'd left on the hood and hiding it behind his body. "I'm not!"

Addie let herself stop several feet away from Harry. "So why are you here?"

"To apologize." Harry moved his hands from behind him and outstretched them to reveal a bouquet of red roses.

Addie's lips parted. "Flowers."

"You said roses you were your favorite," Harry explained sheepishly. She nodded slowly, meeting his gaze. She took the flowers from his hands, staring at the flowers. She'd never gotten flowers before. "They're apology flowers. And congratulations flowers. They- They're multipurpose."

Addie cracked a smile. Something about Harry's lighthearted jokes could always make her laugh. And the day had been good. She was happy.

Addie said, "I'm going to Tara's to celebrate our win."

Harry swallowed thickly, nodding somberly. "Right- I'll go then. Sorry."

Addie realized he'd taken it as a rejection and hastily said, "No- I meant, in case you wanna come with? And we can talk on the way, maybe?"

Harry blinked, giving her a once-over before slowly nodding. "Alright."

It was when Addie pulled out of the parking lot that Harry finally spoke.

"I'm really sorry."

"Haz-"

"No, I am," Harry insisted, twisting his body to face her fully. "I swear, I didn't mean anything of what I said, and I wanted to take it back and apologize but I didn't know how but I shouldn't have waited."

Addie cut in, "Harry-"

"You're just so amazing, and I think I like you, so I got jealous and that was wrong of me, I shouldn't have taken it out on you, and I don't think any of those things about you. Everyone's terrified of you, yeah, but they're so impressed by your talent and your intelligence and your kindness-"

"You think you like me?" Addie repeated weakly. She braked at the red light, and slowly turned to face a frozen Harry. "Harry, do you-"

"Yes." Harry looked shocked at his own words. "I don't want that to screw up our friendship, but I'm really in love with you."

A smile spread slowly over Addie's face as she pulled over to the side of the road.

"I can get out now, don't-" Harry started, but she cut him off by grasping the front of his shirt and pulling him toward her. Once he was close, she grasped his face delicately in her palm and gently laid her lips against his.

A gasp came from his lips, and she took the chance to trace the shape of his lips with her tongue. He emitted a soft groan, the sound swallowed by her slow and passionate kiss.

Harry's hands wandered up into her hair and on her waist, while she pulled him closer until she was practically in his lap. And he finally did finish the job, grasping her waist firmly and tugging her towards him until she was straddling his lap.

"That's my shirt, by the way," Harry murmured against her lips when she pulled away, resting her forehead against his.

Addie smiled. She knew everything would be alright. It'd all gone according to plan for the most part. She had a curly-haired, green-eyed boy wrapped around her finger, her heart in his hands and his shirt in her wardrobe. "It's not. It's mine now."

---

"C'mon, Addie, we're going to be late," Liam whined, knocking desperately on the bathroom door.

Addie groaned, fumbling for her lipgloss. "Shut up! You're not making this easier."

"You know Louis hates it when we're late."

"Well, he can shove his complaints up his-" Addie started, only to be cut off by the sound of a car engine rumbling. She yelped, the clattering of her makeup bag falling over and the contents pouring out echoing in her ears. She grabbed her lip liner and lipgloss, pulling the door open. "Shit. They're here."

Liam rolled his eyes, grabbing the makeup from her hands. "Go grab your bag, I'll meet you downstairs."

Addie smiled. "Thanks, babe."

She rushed to her room, grabbing her purse and pulling her heels on, glancing at the mirror in the hallway one last time and then making her way down the stairs, almost tripping halfway down.

Liam caught her before she fell. "Idiot."

"Thanks," Addie smiled nonetheless, giddy with excitement. "You look handsome, by the way. Zayn's going to love that suit."

Liam looked down at his fitted black suit, smiling to himself. "You think so?"

"He's going to die," Addie reassured him with a grin, grabbing her makeup and shoving it in her purse just in time for the bell to ring.

Addie made her way forward, eager to open the door, but Liam caught her wrist, pulling her back and adjusting the back of her dress, where the straps formed an 'X' but often got all tangled up. "Now you're all set."

Addie gave Liam's arm a quick squeeze of gratitude and opened the door. She met his green eyes, the color she'd become so familiar with for the last year. It was the color of the trees that grew, the grass you could smell in spring air, of christmas trees on holidays, of ivy that grew on you until it became a part of you.

Green was Harry's color. And now it was Addie's favorite.

She smiled at him, unable to keep a grin off her face for long around him. "Hi."

"Hey," Harry breathed, looking almost shocked as he took in the sight of her sharp eyeliner, the sweetheart neckline, the ruffles and layers of the skirt and the gloves she wore. "You look... you're beautiful."

There was something in his voice, that vulnerable honesty that always lingered, reminding Addie that he saw her as truly beautiful.

The way he looked at her, she could almost feel the love radiating from him, an affirmation that she was truly that special to him.

Addie smiled, confident in the fact that she was never letting Harry go. She took in the tailored pants, the cut of the blazer and the silk of his shirt. With curls swept back except for a single strand that fell in front of his face, framing his sharp cheekbones and that angled jaw.

The curve of his dimple appeared, and Addie's chest radiated with warmth as she grabbed the loops of his belt and pulled him forward, giving him a firm kiss.

Liam cleared his throat. "We gonna get moving?"

"Your boyfriend's waiting in the car," Harry muttered bitterly at Liam, unappreciative of the interruption.

Addie snickered as Liam pushed past them, practically skipping to the car where Zayn got out to greet him. She turned to Harry, wiping the lipgloss of his lips. "I love you."

Harry's eyes carried so much emotion, every bit of happiness and longing showing in them. He wanted her, he had her, and he was grateful for it. "I love you."

"You and me," Addie whispered, raising her pinky.

He crossed his pinky with hers. "That's my whole world."

A little game they'd made up one day. A way to reassure each other they would always be there, no matter what. It was silly and a little childish, but it was theirs.

The honking of the car was the second interruption to their moment. Harry inhaled sharply, glaring at the two boys he considered brothers waiting in the car.

Addie laughed, grabbing Harry's hand. "C'mon, it's prom, let's have some fun."

Prom was fun. They snuck in flasks of booze and spilled it into their cups of punch, easily sneaking behind teacher's backs.

Harry convinced Addie to dance with him, just for a little while. It turned into a good thirty minutes of them both smiling and enjoying the moment.

They snuck away for a quick make out session under the stairs, and when they returned, it was clear from the mark on Liam's neck that they weren't the only couple who'd snuck away.

Later, Louis snatched Addie's phone away as she was in the middle of taking pictures, and she chased him out of the gym and to the basketball court.

The others weren't far behind, watching with amusement as the two sibling bickered, their last time fighting before Louis went off to college and joined the big leagues.

That realization seemed to hit both Addie and Louis at the same time as she snatched her phone back. And their smiles faded as the facts settled over their chests like a weight.

It was then that Zayn kicked a ball towards Louis. "Show us some moves one last time."

Louis was up for the challenge and ready to distract himself from thoughts of what they might be losing. Addie kicked her heels off and padded onto the cold grass, chasing after Niall, who'd stolen the ball.

Their little group of six, the small clique that had formed and the bond that'd grown between them the last year, was all Addie could think about.

Addie didn't focus on Zayn and Louis leaving, she focused on winning the match, even with Niall's knee that had been acting up since his injury before the end of the season.

It turned into a match filled with trash talk, a few loose elbows and lots of smile and laughter. It was Niall, Addie and Harry versus Louis, Liam and Zayn.

"Pass it!" Addie shouted into the evening air, brisk to her bare arms, gloves discarded long ago as she waved her arm in the air. Harry caught her eye and kicked the ball towards her. A little too hard.

She tried to get it to hit her knee, but instead it flew into her stomach, making her bend over as she wheezed, all the air knocked out of her.

Harry ran towards her, his hand flying to rub her back as a steady stream of apologies spilled from his mouth. Meanwhile, the others snorted with laughter.

"Guess we end the year the way we started it, right?" Louis snickered, clapping Addie in the back. She straightened at the sharp pain, but smiled nonetheless.

"Shut it, Tomlinson."

No one won the match.

When Addie got home that night- or morning, it was three am. The alcohol had left her system hours ago, but the smell of tobacco from Zayn and Louis' smoking lingered on her dress, mixed with Harry's cologne.

Addie would miss these kinds of days when the two boys went off to college. But for now, she simply smiled into her pillow as she remembered the five loyal friends she'd made. And that one green-eyed boy she loved so dearly.

---

Addie cried during her graduation. For a number of reasons.

First, it was her mom's text that she wasn't showing up. No big surprise, but it still hit her hard. Then, it was seeing her friends in those cap and gowns. It meant they were all parting ways. And finally, it was as she got onto the stage for her speech as valedictorian, and looked into the crowd, expecting not to see a familiar face when-

"Let's go, Heathers!" Louis cheered, as Zayn shouted, "That's our girl!"

Addie grinned, reminded of the brothers she had. Her mom wasn't family. Those two were.

Addie told her speech perfectly, barely even glancing at her notes as she spoke about the loss of a stage of her life she'd never get back, strangers from another country who had embraced her with welcoming arms, and the friends she'd made along the way. She spoke of the hardships, and the challenges, but refused to leave out all the happiness and the victories.

She reminded them to take that leap of faith, jump and see where they landed, that the biggest risks came with the biggest wins. And the choice you feared the most would be the one to reap the rewards.

Addie got her diploma and after they tossed the caps in the air, it was almost as if it had been planned the way all four of the freshly-graduated kids sprinted towards Zayn and Louis, the six of them squeezing together for a hug.

That was the last time Addie cried. When she realized she'd found her forever home with this little mismatched family. Their Sacred group of Six.

---

It was at the end of their first year of college that Addie and Harry took their first trip as a couple. Just the two barely legal adults taking a trip to Mexico for the beaches.

Addie didn't tell her family she'd be in town, and instead just relaxed on the beach with Harry. It was when the weekend was coming to a close, and their last night at the resort was spent having a nice dinner.

He paid for dinner and then grasped her hand, leading her back onto the sand of the beach. The night sky was dark, freckled with the whites of stars and the gray hue of the moon.

The water reflected the moon, and a single one of Harry's knees touched the cold sand. His hand clutched a black box, and Addie's heart raced.

Words spilled out of his mouth, promises he would fulfill and letting all the love inside his heart linger in the air for Addie to know.

Six months later, they had a small wedding. A ceremony in Harry's backyard, with white and red roses everywhere and their family.

Addie's parents had been invited. She reckoned they could come as guests, but they wouldn't be allowed to participate in the wedding. Her parents had been bitter about not being a part of the wedding and being reduced to simple guests, so in protest, they didn't show up. It didn't bother Addie nearly as much as she thought it would.

Instead, it was Robin who walked her down the aisle and handed her off. And it was Anne beside her as the maid of honor. The two had done more for Addie in three years than her own parents had done in nineteen.

Addie had learned the hard way that family had nothing to do with blood. But it was a lesson she cherished having learned.

They'd decided to skip a little bit of the tradition and instead had divided the groomsmen/bridesmaids evenly between the two sides.

Liam and Zayn stood behind Harry, with Gemma in between them, while Niall and Louis stood behind Addie, Anne in between the two boys.

Over the last three years, Gemma had become like an older sister to Addie, guiding her through the rough parts of her life, and giving her a strong woman in her life she could turn to.

It was the first time several people had seen Addie cry, but it was only fitting for who they were. She kept a strong, cold face for everyone else, but the second her eyes met Harry's, it all melted away.

Every single wall Addie had ever built to keep herself safe crumbled to the ground with the one person she would always love. Her forever home, Harry.

And Harry cried, of course. He'd always been a shining star, but when he had Addie, he became the sun, fierce and radiating warmth. She was everything he had ever wanted and never known he needed.

Getting through their vows was the hardest part, both of them choking up as they tried to get through their speeches. Harry had had to write his down because every time he tried to speak it from memory, he'd get so distracted by the knowledge that he was marrying Adelaide Heathers, that he'd forget it.

And Addie managed to memorize hers, but faltered halfway through as she sniffled. It was Louis' reassuring squeeze on her shoulder that gave her the strength to finish.

Her speech was beautiful and poetic, and she'd worked tirelessly to make sure it could capture the essence of her adoration for Harry. But words were never enough.

She finished with one last sentence; "I can't wait to have forever with you."

After the ceremony, the two had had to retire to a private room before beginning the reception. Just letting each other process the fact that that was it. They'd just promised each other forever.

"I can't wait to start the rest of our lives," Addie said. "Me and you."

"That's my whole world."

---

Addie was in college for her scholarship to practice professional volleyball. She would later go on to win the Summer Olympics her first season as a player, and would rise through the ranks until eventually becoming Captain.

Harry kept going with football for several years. But after getting a camera for his birthday, soon discovered his passion for photography. He quit the team and began discovering his love for art.

He worked as a freelance photographer for a couple of years, and then worked with a highly-esteemed fashion magazine, worked as a model once with the same magazine before discovering he preferred being behind the lens than in front of it.

Harry then worked as a photographer for an album photoshoot for the highly-recognized Love Band, and then became close friends with members Mitch and Sarah Rowland. It was then that he began venturing into music.

After Addie was injured during her last match before her team could qualify for the Olympics, she was forced to drop out from the rest of the season. She them began to explore writing, and published several compilations of poems and short stories in the six months of break before returning to her team.

Years later, once Addie retired, she would join Harry with his exploration of music and the two would co-write an album. It would be Adelaide Heathers' debut in music and Harry Styles' fifth studio album.

They would spend the next few years exploring art, creating new and bizzare things, and most of all, staying in touch with the family they'd had since they were kids.

This is your reminder that in every world, and in every universe, no matter the circumstances, Addie, Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn find their way to each other and become a family.

And in every universe, Adelaide Heathers and Harry Styles fall in love. And despite the twists and turns, it always works out in the end.

[storiesofsvu]

Kattsholidaybingo2024

Yup!!! It's that time again!!

Prompts are all winter/Christmas/Holiday related! They do NOT have to specifically be Christmas, you can write/create about ANY holidays/traditions that occur this time of year!

More details and rules under the cut!

Submissions can be anything, ranging from a moodboard, a fic, bullet point headcanons, gif sets, social media AU's, a one shot or you could link each square together and make each one chapter of a series.

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Fics can be done in any style/whatever you prefer! Ships, reader insert, OC's, mix and match throughout. Crossovers from different shows/fandoms, stick with one, try out something new, it's all welcome and encouraged!

As per usual, EVERY fandom is welcome and included, there are no limitations to what you can create for this! We all just want to have some fun and see some cute holiday things!

Rules:

You must tag me ( @storiesofsvu )

Use the hashtag #kattsholidaybingo2024 on each creation and I will put together a masterlist (either as we go or when it's all done)

Bingo begins November 28th and runs until January 16th.

You may only submit ONE creation PER DAY and only one square per creation.

Include all and every appropriate warnings at the top of the fic near the summary.

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Only tag the PAIRING characters of your fic and the main fandom, not every single character involved in your story

If you are participating in the bingo please do your best to share with your friends and reblog other's creations! <3

There will be a prize this time around!!

If you have any questions please feel free to message me!

______

Tagging some people who might be interested! (you do not have to be tagged to participate, everyone is welcome!)

@mickey-gomez @rustyzebra @prurientpuddlejumper @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @wannabe-fic-writer @bumblebear30 @witches-unruly-heart @plaidbooks @bullet-prooflove @whiteberryx @iamnotoriginalphil @multifandomme @alwaysachorusgirl @melk917 @happenstnces @five-bi-five-main main @leftoverenvy @virescent-v v @blackbird-brewster @baubeautyandthegeek @thehauntingofbasingse @hotchfiles @hotchs-big-hands @lesbehonestsstuff @aubvrns @peonies-writes @valentinesfrog @cabensonsgirly @msschemmenti @ridalso @chimnlex @maximoffcarter @daddy-heather-dunbar @demonicbaby666

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VII)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Heavy petting, P in V sex, soft dom!Eddie. Discussion of uncomfortable sexual experiences. Inordinate amount of praise kink, good girl's, and vulnerability on both sides.

Word count | ~10,000

Taglist

Previous Chapter

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Most days, walking into the cafeteria comes with a cool sense of dread. A heaviness in your chest, mind working overtime to prepare yourself for an hour not quite talking with your not quite friends. You’re never sure what you prefer; the white hot shame that comes with laughter at your expense, or the simmering ache from being ignored entirely.

But there’s a levity to your mood today. You’re proud, or maybe more accurately relieved, at the circled red letter on the top right of your Chemistry test. 

You spot May at the usual table as you file in, catching her excited wave over the head of some of the cheer girls. The others offer a cursory glance before returning to their conversation, but May’s expression is expectant. “So? How’d you do?”

You grin. “A minus.”

“I knew it!” She squeals, removing her bag from the chair next to her to make space for you. “You always make a big deal out of tests, and then breeze through!”

She’s half right. 

Something about the weight of potential failure, some unknown consequence to doing poorly, always has you worrying about tests days prior, heart pounding in the moments before you flip the paper. Then you second guess yourself all the way through, scribbling over wrong answers before writing the same thing down again.  

But you certainly don’t breeze through. The weight of this test on your mind had you bursting into tears in Eddie’s van last week. What was supposed to be a movie theatre date turned into an impromptu study session at the library. Eddie sat opposite you while you read over your notes, writing up his campaign ideas and flicking through a book he’d found in the fantasy section before working begrudgingly on an essay about JFK he was supposed to have handed in the week before. He switched to the seat next to you when you failed to hide a sniffle, let you tuck yourself under his arm and press your face to his shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said eventually, coaxing you out from the damp spot on the collar of his shirt. “Talk me through what you don’t get, okay? I bet the answer’s up here.” He pressed a finger to your forehead, narrowing his eyes like he could pinpoint the spot in your brain the information was hiding. “We just gotta knock it loose somehow.”

He must, truly, have been bored to death as you went through the problem, starting over again and again each time you explained yourself into a corner. But he listened anyway, prompted you to keep going until you came to an answer that satisfied you, a conclusion that made sense, and then he listened to the next problem.

You apologised at the end of the night. For all the hysterics, for dragging him along to a joyless evening. He’d swiped the thought away with a casual wave of his hand. “You couldn’t be my smart girl if you didn’t have to study sometimes.”

Just thinking about it now, your eyes flicker from May’s hand on the back of the empty chair beside her to the place Eddie sits, far on the other side of the room. 

It’s an invisible line you haven’t crossed, spending any time with him at lunch. Eddie would never let you question whether he wanted you to sit with him, never let you worry about seeming clingy. He’d made it clear you were always welcome. What stopped you was that tug at your heart, that feeling that you’d be taking another step away, putting more distance between you and your friends. Or May, at least. You can’t remember the last time Heather sat with you more than once a week. 

And you promised, sincerely, that you would try a bit harder with the cheer girls. Apart from that one tipsy conversation with Tracy at a party, you’re not sure you’ve quite fulfilled that.

But you want so badly to tell him. Shamefully, it was your first thought when you turned your paper over today. Along with the usual relief came excitement, knowing Eddie would be pleased for you and make it clear, call you his smart girl till your face burns hot. 

“I’m just-” You start, tucking your bag up on your shoulder, glancing back to May. “I’m just gonna show Eddie quickly.”

There’s a pause. Her pleased expression, the gentle curve of her wax pink lips, doesn’t falter. Instead, it seems to calcify on her face. “Oh. You’re gonna sit over there?”

“Just for a while,” you reason. “Just to show him my grade. Okay?”

She makes a high mm hmm noise, half agreeing, half unsure, but you decide to take it at face value, making a beeline for Eddie’s table. 

As usual, he sits at the head, the frizz of his hair lit up in the natural light from the window behind him. His expression is a touch bored, eyes blinking slowly, chin resting on his palm as a boy at the other end of the table - young, with tight brown curls tucked under a yellow cap - talks a mile a minute. You catch the words radio and roof as you approach, but your own mind goes blank when you reach them.

You’d feel only excitement, if it was just Eddie who noticed your presence. For his part, his whole posture changes; from slumped over the table to sitting straight up, his pouty lips turning to an excited smile in your direction as his hand drops away from his chin. But on top of that, six additional faces turn to watch you walk up the side of the table. Maybe you could handle three, used to some attention from Jeff, Gareth and Matthew at this point, comfortable in their acceptance of your silly little fidgets and occasional long silences. 

But the other three, all freshmen, staring at you like you grew another head on the way over, have you shuffling in place, playing with the strap of your bag. You vaguely know Mike from watching him run out the door on the occasions you’ve babysat Holly, though his hair is a good couple inches longer than the last time you spent an evening at the Wheeler’s. The others, Lucas and Dustin, you know both from Eddie’s descriptions and his complaints. 

“Hi,” you say, voice quieter than you’d like as you wave at the group. 

“To what do we owe this pleasure, Princess?” 

Your mouth opens, and your throat closes. Your face feels suddenly warm under the eyes of his whole table. In an instant, you regret coming over here. What must you look like? What will they think of you, when they realise you came over here to brag about a simple test result? 

Eddie hums a questioning sound, bringing your focus back to him. He’s looking at you the way he does when you both know you’re going to have to be the one to speak first. There’s anticipation there, but the little curve of his lips is all kind patience. 

You swallow, glance down the table again. You make eye contact with Lucas, give him an awkward smile at his friendly wave. Even at that, you know the words won’t come. Sighing quietly, you unzip your bag and search through your books for the test, drawing out the paper and fiddling with the corner for a second. How do you tell him, all of them, that you really aren’t bragging? That more than anything you just want to thank him? 

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the paper. When he holds his hand out, and you find yourself passing it to him instinctively, toes curling in your shoes.

“An A!?” He screeches immediately, thoroughly dispelling any hope you might have had that he’d keep it to himself. Though your face burns, you fight the urge to glance around and offer an apologetic smile to his group, to the people that turned at the sound of his yell, because this is Eddie. Any embarrassment you might feel pales in comparison to hearing the pride in his voice, to see it on his face. What do judgmental looks and cruel whispers from strangers mean to you when they’re caused by Eddie, so excited and pleased for you that he’ll yell it publicly?

You tuck the top of your foot to the back of your ankle, playing with your skirt, correcting him shyly. “An A minus.”

Eddie scoffs. “An A’s and A, sweetheart. I’d know, I’ve missed enough of them.” 

Knowing now that at least Eddie himself has taken it the right way, you let yourself indulge. “I was two marks off a real A.”

Eddie’s hand slams down on the table with a bang, making you and everyone in the surrounding area jump as he rises, kicking his chair back with a screech. You watch, left in some strange place between proud and mortified as he practically floats over to the neighbouring table, flicking the paper at a group of juniors dressed exclusively in neon. 

“You see that? My girlfriend got a fucking A in Mr Brown’s AP Chemistry class!” He moves the paper around, displaying it for each of them. “That shit’s like fucking gold dust- hey!” He turns to shake it at a passing boy with a calculator in his breast pocket. “You’re in that class, right? How’d you do in this test, huh?” 

“If you must know, Munson, I got an A plus.” 

There’s a moment of silence.

“Okay, man. Shit. Kinda showing off a little-” He turns to you, eyes wide and head tilted as if to say get a load of this guy, but you’re shaking your head, desperately biting back a smile. 

“Eddie!” 

“Ah, she calls to me.” He drifts over to you then, frizzed hair flying out behind him. You giggle a little wildly behind your hands, still shaking your head at him though any disapproval is for show at this point. Everyone who turned to watch Eddie crow seems to have returned to their conversations, this side of the room apparently well used to his outbursts. He stops close enough that he’s all you can see; his dimpled smile, eyes shining at you while he hands you your test back. 

“Take my seat, Princess.” He gestures with a wide arm, directing you to the chair he rose from. You make a quick glance over at the cheer table, find Caroline just sitting down now with her tray, and feel an unusual sense of relief. It feels like freedom, to be on this side of the room, and not directly under her gaze. 

By the time you’re settled in his seat, Eddie has retrieved a spare chair, carrying it above his head and dropping it down next to you with another outrageous bash. He collapses into it, his arm finding the back of your chair as he leans in to Jeff, sitting on your left. “You’re in that class, too, right man?” 

“You know, we’ve been friends three years now, Eddie, and you’ve never once taken an interest in my grades,” Jeff answers, shutting down Eddie’s inquiry before he can really ask. He turns to you. “Bet it was question 18 that got you, huh?”

“Mm, no, that was okay.” You answer. “Eddie and I went over retention factors so much at the library last week. I understand it way better now.”

Six pairs of eyes blink at you, and the relief you were experiencing is fading fast. Instead, you get the recognizable sense that you said something wrong. Your foot starts tapping at pace, fingers finding the edge of the table and running over the edge.

“You were at the library?” Gareth asks Eddie, aghast tone mocking but serious in its surprise.

“I’ve been to the library before,” Eddie bites. “M’there all the time.”

“We’re not talking about monopolising the fantasy section, here,” Matthew says. “You were studying, Eds.”

“I told you,” Eddie replies, widening his legs until you feel the denim of his jeans rough against your bobbing calf. “I’m working hard this year. Trying to get out of this shithole.” He presses his leg more firmly to yours, and you realise it’s a deliberate touch, a silent reminder that he’s there, that he’s not going to leave you alone with whatever’s got you fidgeting.  

“You said that last year,” Jeff says.

“And the year before that,” chimes Gareth through a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, well, I meant it this time,” he says, leaning back in his seat with a deep sigh. “Jesus, Henderson, you look like you’re gonna explode. Go on. So you’ve built your stereo on the roof.”

“Not a stereo, Eddie- a radio!” Dustin cries through a mouthful of cafeteria lasagne. 

Eddie’s face darkens. “Do I look like I give a- Christ.” He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head with genuine frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, man. Please, please, just finish your story so we can all move on with our lives.”

Undeterred by Eddie’s rough tone, Dustin launches right back into what he’d been speaking about as you approached. Mainly focused on how he convinced his Mom to let him up on the roof in the first place.

You sigh in quiet relief as the attention of the table moves swiftly away from you, leg slowing until it stops shaking altogether. Eddie’s knee bumps yours, and you feel the warmth of him as he leans in to speak softly, just to you.

“My smart girl,” he says, drawing pleased shivers up your spine. “You deserve it, yeah? You worked real hard.”

“I wanted,” you start, grabbing at his sleeve, thumbing the chain that holds the leather together. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I know it was kinda boring.”

“Nah, glad I could help.” Eddie’s expression turns a touch sheepish. “I, uh, actually got a C on that History essay? Mrs Kelly said I would have got a B, if I’d handed it in on time, so…” 

Your eyes widen, barely able to process the sight of him now. Eddie Munson, who just yelled across the room about your academic achievements, now looking anywhere but at you, scratching his face and shrugging like his own barely matter. You find his hand, squeeze it tight until he shows you his eyes.

“Eddie, that’s brilliant!” You say. He puffs out air like it means nothing to him, shakes his head. “When-” 

“You aren’t even listening, Eddie!” Dustin calls from the end of the table. Eddie rolls his eyes, but then he gestures ;azily for Dustin to continue, now with the gift of his attention. It’s enough for anyone to believe he finds the boy annoying at best, but you know from how Eddie talks about them that Dustin’s kind of his favourite. There’s a clear fondness in Eddie’s tone when he rants about Dustin trying to contribute ideas to his campaigns, the begrudging respect he has for how unapologetically himself the boy is. The touch of jealousy that creeps in when he talks about Dustin’s friendship with Steve Harrington, of all people. Badass, my ass, he mumbles each time.

You listen in comfortable silence to the conversation as it continues, occasionally contributing a little yes or no when Jeff asks you leading questions, your fondness for him ever increasing. Only when you watch Eddie retrieve a bag of pretzels from his backpack do you remember your own lunch, too taken in by the awe in Matthew’s voice recounting the first time he heard a Judas Priest song, apparently life changing.

You frown at the realisation that the half empty bag is all Eddie brought for himself, immediately offering your open tupperware and holding it steady under his shaking head until he acquiesces to tearing one half of your sandwich in two, chewing on the quarter in between his contributions to the conversation.

Your ears prick when you move on to tearing the segments from your satsuma, handing a half to Eddie without a word. Amongst the chatter, Mike laughs about Dustin’s current failing grade in Latin, an unusual outcome for him. Dustin sighs like an old man. 

“I ask you, how many tenses does one language need?” He groans. “I thought there’d be something we could use for a campaign, The Exorcist style, you know? Instead I’m trying to remember the difference between types of declensions. Or I will, when I fully grasp what declensions are.”

The conversation about Judas Priest you’d found yourself somewhat involved in fades with how much you’re focused on Dustin’s defeated tone. One part of you is screaming that you could help him, that he seems really worried about it and he’s a smart boy so it probably wouldn’t be much work to get him on the right track. Then another part, the one that screeches and wails its distress until your head hurts, asks, what if he says no? What if he laughs? What if they all do? 

You open your mouth, wondering if you should just say it across the table. Just offer; just do it. Of course he won’t say no. And if he does, he’s Eddie’s friend so it will be gentle. Still embarrassing though. Your mouth closes again, teeth digging grooves into the gum behind your lips. Just help him. You pull your sleeves down over your hands, playing with the soft ends. You clear your throat, take a breath-

“I’m good at Latin,” you say, immediately cringing at how that sounds. But you’re pleased when Jeff goes on chatting about the album he just bought, letting you contribute to the other conversation across the table freely. Dustin blinks at you owlishly. “I mean, I can help. Tutor you, or something? If you want.”

“Seriously!?” Dustin asks, flashing you a braced grin when you nod. “That would be amazing! Thanks!”

You smile, just sighing out your relief when you feel another nudge at your knee. Eddie’s watching you, eyebrows raised. You shrug shyly, grasping the sleeve of his jacket again to fiddle with the chains. He pulls free, but only to take hold of your hand instead. 

You’re basking in the feeling of knowing Eddie’s proud of you, your own pride in yourself, and you know you couldn’t force yourself back across the room today if you tried. 

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You realised, walking alone to class, that you hadn’t spoken that much during lunch the entire time you’d been at highschool. Giggling at Lucas’ jokes, asking about their DnD characters, getting increasingly comfortable talking about metal with a group of people who are genuinely excited to hear about your introduction to the genre. By the end it felt almost natural; simple and fun to talk to an entire table of people.

But you’re feeling some of the effects of it now, even quieter than usual in Eddie’s van as Gareth considers whether to paint or sharpie the Corroded Coffin logo Eddie designed onto the front of his bass drum. 

From the soft hum you’d given in greeting as you climbed into the van after school, Eddie had offered you his palm, open and relaxed. Now, your forefinger traces the long groove from his wrist to the base of his thumb that forms his life line. You love Eddie’s hands, love how they feel in yours, and on every other part of you they’ve touched. 

You swallow, face suddenly hot. It’s been easier, nicer, every time Eddie’s touched you. So much so that you now understand why it’s all some people think about, all that drives them. The way Eddie feels inside you, all the words that spill from his mouth as he moves; how much he wants you, how good you make him feel. You find your mind circling back to it at the strangest times. In class, making dinner, driving home with Eddie’s friends-

You jump a little at the chorus of bye’s from the back, the sound of the doors being thrown open. Eddie’s already watching you curiously when you look back to him, unable to hold eye contact, half convinced he’ll be able to read your thoughts with one good look at you. “You okay, sweet thing?”

“M’just tired.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding thoughtfully. “The guys- they can be a little intense.”

Mirth spreads through you at the thought of Eddie ‘jumps on cafeteria tables’ Munson describing anyone as intense. “I like them.”

“You say that now. A week tutoring Dustin and you’ll be changing your name and moving to Idaho. I’ll never see you again, and it’ll be all that little punk’s fault.”

“He’s your favourite.”

Eddie’s tone goes from playful to offended in a second, as to close a screech as his deep voice can get. “He is not- I don’t even have- Even if I did have a favourite, which I don’t, Dustin Henderson would not even come close-” He pauses at the sound of your laugh, narrowing his eyes. “Mmh. I get it. Tired, but not too tired to rile me up.”

You chew the inside of your lip, fighting a smile. Running a finger along his palm again, you reply, “it’s not particularly difficult.” You expect another dramatic yell of offence, or maybe a laugh. Instead, you get something pleased from his expression, dimples on his cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing. I just like it when you tease me.” His fingers close around yours, weaving together. “S’like you’re more comfortable around me, I guess.” 

You’re sure he’s right. Every day it’s a little easier. Every time you see him, your mind gets in the way less and less, slowly coming to accept that he’s not waiting for you to say the wrong thing, that he won’t abandon you when you inevitably do. 

“You make me feel comfortable, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your quick nod. “Does that mean you’re coming back to mine?” 

“Actually,” you start, truly needing that comfort now. You know the implications of what you’re going to ask, sure that if somebody other than Eddie heard you, they’d come to conclusions about the kind of girl you are. 

The more time you spend with Eddie the less you’re sure that it matters if they would be right or wrong. 

You press your knees together, tap your fingers in a wave along Eddie’s knuckles. “Well, my parents aren’t home...”

There’s a second of silence, long enough to have you squirming, finding his dark eyes and then looking away again in a loop. 

Eddie leans into you, chin tilted to capture your gaze and keep you there. “You mean to say that the Princess’ tower is unguarded this night?” 

Your stomach squeezes at the sound of his voice, serious and soft, like a real adventurer on the verge of committing himself to a great quest. You love this about Eddie, how easily he can slip into characters like this. It’s something he learned from DnD, or maybe Eddie’s so good at the game because he has this ability to play at being somebody different without hesitation, without a hint of the worry you’d feel if you tried it, convinced you’d do it all wrong, sure you’d sound stupid. 

“No dragons for me to slay?” He asks, closing one eye like he’s trying to work out if you’re tricking him. Your head shakes, and Eddie turns your hand in his to bring it to his mouth. He kisses your knuckles, a soft warm press. “S'that what you want?”

“Yes, Eddie.” 

“Okay,” he says, lips meeting your hand once again. “To the castle, it is.”

Eddie is as quick as usual to drive you home, each turn forcing you to lean to the door or to the centre console. But any urgency seems to vanish the second he’s pulled up by your house. In the van, you wait as he makes sure he has his wallet and his keys, sets the sun visor back into position. When you've jumped out, you watch him check that he's locked each door of the van with more care than you've ever seen from him, like he's particularly worried about a carjacker on your suburban street in broad daylight. 

Inside, Eddie is careful about unlacing his shoes and placing them at the door next to yours, toed off your heels carelessly. Then, at the top of the stairs, when you think you finally have him at a regular pace towards your room, you are jolted back by his sudden stop on the landing, leaving your hands connected at the end of stretched arms. 

“‘M looking for anything I can use as a weapon, you know?” He says, peering into a vase of fake orchids, examining a glass seahorse statue, scrunching his nose when he gets hit with the scent from a bowl of potpourri. “This all feels a little too easy, and you’ve gotta expect the unexpected in situations like these.”

“Eddie?"

You’re so endeared to him, watching him examine the objects your Mom set out playing up to this story he’s created. But the way he’s stalling, almost hesitant, has you sure you missed a clear sign along the way. “Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you, like, not want to come here?” 

His head shoots up then, round eyes blinking. “Of course, I did. I do.” Eddie laughs airily, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as he approaches. “I’m a freak, okay? I’m not crazy.” 

You still feel like you’re missing something, wondering if you should offer him another way out. Eddie makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting you to guide him forward. Walking slow to give him time to change his mind, you make your way to your door, decidedly not looking back at him when you enter.

Eddie is unusually quiet, then, following you in but stopping once again when he takes the first step onto your cream carpet. You only glance back at him when you’ve dropped his hand and started playing with your sleeves, comforted by the fact he just seems to be taking everything in. He stands out, all ragged denim and black leather in the pastel softness of your bedroom, and yet he fits so well in a room full of things you love. 

He shifts his weight back and forth on the soft carpet, subtly sniffs the air that must smell of you and the apple blossom diffuser on your side table. His eyes drift as he takes in each focal point; the desk laden with textbooks and paper, your windowsill, lined with a couple snow globes, a ceramic cat you’d painted as a child, a framed photo of you and your friends Heather gave you for your 16th. He scans quickly over the cork boards to the corner of the room, smile lines appearing at the sight of your long favourite stuffed animal, a soft grey elephant you’d carefully positioned on a pink cord beanbag, looking ready to start reading judging by the pile of books to her right.

His gaze eventually circles back to you, waiting nervously for his reaction. Eddie shifts back and forth on his feet. “You know, I, uh, gotta admit, I imagined some stained glass.” He gestures lazily to the window, then to your bed, the wooden frame and the blue floral bedspread. “And I was sure you’d have one of those beds with all the fabric, you know what I’m talking about?” He raises both hands to motion the shape of a canopy bed, fingers wiggling. 

“Disappointed?” You say, only half joking. 

Eddie finally takes a step further in, turning to the shelves of books by your bed. “Me? Nah I was worried about getting tangled up in it, to be honest.” He flashes you a quick grin before scanning over the spines. Eventually, he points to one. “Iron Maiden, yeah?”

You check the book he’s pointing to, The Complete Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and nod, always pleased by the reminder that Eddie listens, really listens, when you speak. That he remembers so many innocuous things you share with him, things you’d never expect him to remember. 

You badly want to reach out for him then, fingers itching to hold his hand, play with his sleeves. You almost do, raising your arm a touch, but a wave of concern hits you, still trying to work out if you’ve done something, said something wrong to make him act like he’d rather not be here. 

Eddie catches your stunted movement, eyes blinking at your fidgeting hands before shifting to your face. You’re sure then that your anxiety is clear in your expression, that he sees how eagerly you’re waiting for him to give you an explanation for his hesitancy in the hallway.

Eddie frowns, looking at the books again. He clears his throat. "I've never been in a girls' room before," he tells you. From his voice, it sounds like a confession.

“Oh.” Your brows furrow, trying to work out how that matters. “I mean, they’re not all like this.”

"No, I mean, it’s just that it’s like, a first. For me.” When that doesn’t quite cover your confusion, he continues. “Nobody ever wanted, y'know, me in their room. Or whatever."

Your heart pangs with sudden understanding, the memory of Eddie lying across from you on a blanket, the warm sun on your skin. Am I being too intense? That's what Eddie had asked you, that day at the lake. People say I can be too much too soon. 

“And it’s already different, with you. Better. I mean, shit, a million times better,” he says, eyes wide. “But I still just didn’t expect you to, just, ask me, like- Like, you just want me here. Cause it’s never been that simple. Shit. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“No. No, Eddie,”

“I didn’t wanna make you worried or anything. It’s the complete last thing I’d ever want. I guess I was kinda just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He laughs again, but it’s hollow, and cuts off too suddenly to be real. 

You give in entirely, practically launching at him to wrap your arms around his torso and pull him into a tight, desperate hug. You wish, not for the first time, that you were more like him, better at getting your thoughts into words and saying them.Then you could soothe him like he deserves. Then you could tell him the truth. 

Eddie’s face presses to your hair, arms tight around your shoulders. 

“Eddie,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him again before you build the courage to look him in the eyes. “You’re so-” Your throat tightens, forcing you to whisper. “You’re so good.” It seems lacklustre, probably a million better words to describe all that Eddie is, but it feels right; it’s what you think, that Eddie is, deep at his core, so good that it hurts. “You’re too good, too good for anyone that made you think-” Your voice cracks, and Eddie blinks shining eyes at you when you reach up to stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, pressing his face to your palm. “I’m okay. Really.”

You press your lips to his, hoping he understands this at least. You feel his smile, and believe that he does. He hums as you shift your kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheeks. You peck the end of his nose, watch it scrunch sweetly. You’re warmed by the sight of his reddening face, the sound of his laugh. “You know how to make a guy feel appreciated, sweetheart.”

Your hands seem incapable of moving from him, only moving from his cheek to his shoulders, wrists tickled by the fluffy ends of his curls. “I want you here,” you say, a little strained. “I promise.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I would have invited you earlier,” you continue. “It’s just…”

Eddie’s eyes flash. His hands, big and warm, rub up and down your back, pulling you closer to him until you’re flush against his chest. “It’s just, we couldn’t have done what you want to do,” he finishes. “Not with your parents downstairs. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Your stomach twists with that exciting shame, face hot. You don’t have anywhere to hide, caught by Eddie’s gaze. You still can’t look into his eyes for too long, lest your heart beat out your chest, so you find yourself staring at his lips, pillowy and pink. “Not just that.”

“Okay,” he answers, hand drifting down to skim the end of your skirt. You press closer to him when his fingers tease the soft skin of your thighs, and he breathes a laugh. “But, mainly that, huh?” 

Your fingers curl into his shoulders, embarrassed and excited in equal measure that he’s naming your intentions so clearly. You bounce a little on your toes, still gazing at Eddie’s lips, the dents of his laugh lines and his dimples.

Callused fingers reaching under your skirt, his thumb grazing the cotton of your panties, pulling at the elastic. You think you’re being subtle, the way you open your legs a little to make space for him, but know immediately that you failed when Eddie laughs, eyes crinkled at the sides. He breathes a sigh, watching you lose the last pretence that you aren’t a little desperate for him to touch you how he wants. “My good girl.”

Oh, but that makes you ache for him. Your head drops to his neck, hiding your face in his skin. You breathe him in, smoke and Eddie, swallowing a whimper.

“You like that, don't you? Like being a good girl.”

You nod on impulse, willing to agree to just about anything when his fingers drag over your mound, press to the split of your pussy through your panties, the material just grazing your clit. But something about what he's said isn't quite right, and you start shaking your head instead.

Eddie's mouth finds your ear, warm breath teasing the sensitive skin at the top of your neck. "No? Not a good girl?" 

You shake your head again, because that's not right either. You tilt your face to catch his gaze, ink dark eyes already waiting for you. "I like-" You sigh when his fingers catch at the fabric that sits at the top of your sex again, giving a single teasing circle that helps you relax enough to tell him the truth of it. “It’s for you, Eddie.”

"Ah," Eddie breathes, finally, finally dipping his fingers past the elastic of your panties. He hums his approval when he finds your clit, swollen and waiting for him. He gives you one tap just to see you pout, then he’s rubbing tight circles that have you trying to press even closer to him, nails digging into his shoulders. “My good girl, mm?" 

"Yeah," you nod desperately, proud to see how pleased he looks with you. "Yes, Eddie." 

"That's right." He continues, watching your face as your lips open to moan softly, eyelids flickering. His fingers dip quickly to your entrance, dragging slick up to ease the way for his fingers on your button. “Just for me. Cause I'm the one who gets to touch you," he says. "Only I get to hear you like this, yeah? Hear you begging me with that pretty voice?" 

"Only you. Please, Eddie." 

“S’cause you know I’m gonna take care of you, don’t you, sweet thing? You and this pretty pussy?”

Eddie's fingers keep rubbing at your clit, pulling sensations from your body that only he ever has. Staring at him, hearing his rough voice even as he looks at you like you’re precious, you feel it again, as you have with increasing frequency. How badly you want him like this and every other way. It almost overwhelms you, makes you want to hide away again in his shoulder. But Eddie is owed the sight of the pleasure he brings you, deserves to see it play out on your face, hear every whimper clearly. Eddie coos softly at the sight of you, his free hand coming to support the back of your neck, nodding you through each shaking breath. “That’s it. That’s it. You gonna cum?”

A tremble moves through your body, hips rolling against his hand as you groan into the air. The high builds to a long, half painful peak, your hands grasping at Eddie’s t-shirt, his hair, first for something to hold on to, then because the resulting groan has your cunt clenching around nothing. It crosses over into too much suddenly, twitching away from his hand between your legs even as you give in and throw your face to his neck, kissing your gratitude all over the pale column of his throat. You find his pulse, feel its steady beat under your lips, and bite. It’s little more than a scrape of your teeth, but Eddie shudders in your arms, tilting his head back to let you soothe the bruised skin with your tongue, then kisses. 

You sigh deep, relaxing your death grip on his body while Eddie kisses at your sweaty temple. You peek at him then, find the warm brown of his irises swallowed up by darkness, his tongue licking quick over his bitten dark lips. He pulls his hand from your panties, showing you the remnants of your slick on his fingers before licking at his ring finger. “Always taste so good, baby. Wanna try?”

“Uh huh,” you say, head fuzzy with pleasure. Your mouth drops open for him, letting him press his middle finger to your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking gently. You don’t think it tastes of much at all, but Eddie seems suddenly desperate to get at what he’s given you. He drags his finger from your mouth and captures your lips before you’ve even registered the loss, his tongue licking at yours like he can steal the taste of you back. “That what you were thinking of when you invited me up here, mm?” He says when he breaks away, lips still grazing yours as he speaks. “Or do you want more?”

You do want more. You want Eddie. Want him filling you with the length you can feel, hardening against your thigh. You want to make him feel good, want to hear him groan when he cums. “More, Eddie,” you whisper without shame. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning in for another desperate kiss, taking advantage of your pliant state to open your mouth to him. “Fuck. I wanna bend you over so bad,” he admits, watching your face for your reaction. “You want that? Want me to fuck you like that in your pretty princess bed?” 

Your toes curl, clit throbbing at the playful tone of Eddie’s voice, teasing and rough. “Mm. Okay.”

Eddie tilts his head, meeting your eyes, checking in. “Okay?”

You try to picture it, imagine how Eddie will feel fucking you that way. In truth, you’re stuck  on how vulnerable you’ll be; exposed, not able to see him or cling to him the way you like. But it’s Eddie, you assure yourself. You take a breath. “I want that, Eddie.” 

The kiss that follows is sweet. It’s a comforting reminder that no matter how much Eddie teases you, how rough he gets, he's still the boy who calls you princess, holds your hand in the car, promises to take care of you. 

He helps you remove your shirt from your heated skin, pulls his own over his head the second you start tugging at the hem. Once you have access to his skin, you can't stop touching him, palms flat to his chest, kissing his neck while he pulls your panties down over your hips. 

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he murmurs, turning you to face your bed. He kisses your shoulder, his body warm at your back. "Climb up for me, mm?"

You want to do what he says. You want him to touch you like this. But you still feel a prickle of nerves as you crawl up to your pillow, body exposed and missing Eddie’s skin already. 

“So pretty,” Eddie says above you, behind you, as you rest your chin on your curled arms on top of the mattress. You hear the clink of his belt, toes curling at the sound. Then you feel him through his boxers, hard and hot as he rolls his hips against your ass. You hear him whisper, shit, say something about protection. It's followed by a far off, satisfied a-ha at locating a condom in his discarded jacket, but it’s fuzzy beneath the sudden rushing in your ears. 

You feel him again, grinding against you, and you're not sure where all the excitement went. You’re staring at the blue cornflowers on your pillowcase while he continues behind you, remembering the last time you were positioned like this, tense and vulnerable. You try to breathe slow. When that doesn’t work, you try to let the heavy throb between your legs remind you how badly you want this.

It doesn't work, and you focus instead on feeling of just having to lie like this, get through it for him, just stare at the flowers and don't cry and he’ll be finished soon-

The pressure behind you disappears, the mattress shifts under you. Eddie bounces when he flops down beside you, face level with yours and hidden behind his flying hair. He makes soft puh noises like he’s trying to spit it out, blowing it away from his face. You blink, the white noise in your ears fading when you touch him, tucking his hair back behind his ear to find his grateful smile. 

“Thanks, baby,” he says. He reaches for your hip, rubbing soft as he presses your arched body down until you're lying, flat to the bed. Then, all heartbreaking gentleness; “where’d you go?”

You stumble, embarrassed. “I, I didn’t-”

“Stopped making those pretty noises for me," he reasons. “Isn't any fun without 'em." Your bottom lip shakes, and you feel like an idiot. 

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Not Andy, not some boy here for himself, only to take and never give. 

"Hey," he says, shuffling in until he can bump your nose with his. "We don’t have to do it like this if you don’t want. You know that, right? Don't have to do anything you don't want.”

“It’s not that, I-” You sigh, watch Eddie’s shining eyes, round and soft, waiting for you. “I needed to know it was you. I’m sorry.”

Recognition registers in his face. He frowns, cupping your face in his palm. “No apologies. Not about what you need, okay?”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“Wanna cuddle?” 

You do. Desperately. You reach out for him easily, shuffling until you're surrounded by him, clinging to his torso, cheek to his chest.

"Ah," Eddie breathes, wiggling like he can get his skin any closer to yours. "That's the good stuff." 

You hadn’t realised how fast, how hard your heart was beating until you’re settled in Eddie’s arms and it starts to slow. There's a minute’s comfortable silence, letting his presence ease you back to comfort. Then he hums, strokes at the hair on your temple. "You gotta tell me when something's not right, ‘kay?" he says seriously. "I like to think I can read you pretty well, but I could've missed it." 

"I'm sorry," you say, then, remembering you just agreed not to do that, "sorry."

Eddie breathes a laugh through his nose, leaves a wet kiss on your forehead. "My shy girl, mm?"

"Sometimes it's just…hard to say what I'm feeling. I didn't want you to stop.” You hum. “I don't think I did."

Eddie considers that, still stroking at your hair. "Do you, uh, know what a safe word is?” You shake your head, and he continues. “S’kinda like a code. Something you can just say if you wanna press pause, you know? Means that instead of getting in that head of yours, trying to work out what you want, you can just say a word and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You consider it, imagining the scene if you'd been able to just say one thing and slow down. Easier not to have to think through what you need before you tell him, just say one word and let Eddie help you get there, coax from your head what you haven't worked out yourself. "That sounds good, Eddie." 

"Yeah?" He asks, eyebrows raising. “Okay. We can keep it simple for now. If we wanna stop completely, for any reason, we say red, yeah? If we need to slow down, talk a little about what we need, we say yellow. And green for keep going. How’s that sound?"

"Good," you say, feeling grateful that you’re learning all these things with Eddie. "It sounds good, but I- I am sorry that I'm, y'know. Difficult, sometimes."

Eddie blinks, eyebrows pulling together. "Difficult? My sweet girl? Nah. Besides," he leans in, closing one eye. "I like looking after you." 

You sigh happily when he kisses you, gentle and seeking nothing more than sweet presses. But you're still wet and wanting, hand rubbing across the softness of Eddie's tummy until your fingers draw across the sparse hair at the top of his pants. Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you pressing your thighs together. 

"You wanna turn over, mm? Open those pretty legs for me?”

Yes. You love having Eddie on top of you and inside you. Better every time, as your body gets used to him, as Eddie learns how to draw pleasure from you, as you learn what makes Eddie gasp, makes his hips move desperately like you're the only thing he needs. 

But you pause. Now, comfortable in the knowledge that you know how to slow down, stop when you need to, you let yourself imagine Eddie behind you. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, his big hands holding your waist, arching your body just right to slide inside. Letting yourself be vulnerable with Eddie, the feeling of offering yourself up to him, the reward of his touch.

“I want to try, I just, I need-” You don’t know, exactly. You feel another wave of irritation at yourself, wishing you could be a little more simple. That you didn't need to cling to him that first time, that now you need him to work out this hurdle. 

Eddie hums, and the mattress shifts again as he sits up behind you. “Lift these hips for me again, sweet thing?” He asks, helping you shift your knees forward, tilting your body up for him. You hear the crinkle of him tearing open a condom, his soft sigh as he rolls it down over his cock. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, hands smoothing your skirt up, exposing your hot flesh to the air. You shiver up your spine, but when Eddie grinds against you, what follows is his torso stretched along your back until you can feel him pressing wet kisses to your shoulder. The tension falls away, replaced by the tickle of Eddie’s hair at your neck, his sweet sting of his teeth nipping your shoulder, the sound of his pleased hums.

A final touch, his left hand grabs yours on the mattress, linking your fingers up and resting them in your eyeline. You know Eddie’s hands better than you know your own. Thick fingers adorned with a pig, a cross, a skull; all pale skin but for the subtle pink at his knuckles and around his nails. The veins that run from the end of his fingers to his wrist, the dip at the end of his thumb. 

“Better?” Eddie asks. You hum happily. You’re so blissfully wrapped up in him like this, surrounded and safe. Eddie’s right hand teases your clit again, presses gently at your entrance and finds you still went and wanting, bearing down at the first dip of his digits inside you. “Fuck, don’t worry, sweet thing. Gonna give you what you need, mm?”

“Eddie,” you say, his name a gentle plea.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his. He reaches between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance, the head of his cock tapping torturously at your clit. You have half a mind to kick your legs out in impatience now, settle on whining at the back of your throat. Eddie breathes a laugh into your shoulder, but it shifts immediately to a groan as he presses inside. 

You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of him slowly filling you, the edge of pain still leading you to bear down on him, body stuck between desperations; to force him out or or pull him deeper. But then there’s the perfect ache of feeling full, the warmth and heaviness of him inside. 

Eddie’s hips roll, the wet sound of him pulling from you making your toes curl. He starts up a steady pace, easing your body into letting him slide deeper into your cunt with each thrust. His fingers return to the top of your sex, rubbing at your sensitive button. With every slow thrust, each stroke of your twitching clit, it feels like your body is opening up to him, easing the way for him to press deeper, push inside a little rougher. Your body flinches, tightens and loosens up all over when the end of his cock finds the back of your pussy, sending waves of pleasure up your spine. 

“Feel good?” He says, amusement in his tone. You moan freely, happy to be teased by him as long as he keeps touching you. “Tell me.”

“Feels good,” you parrot, staring at Eddie’s hand in yours, the slow movement of rose tone up his wrist, along to his knuckles as he heats up. You shiver to let in his warmth, his breath on your shoulder, his chest at your back. His cock, hot and thick, fucking you open.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, groaning at the way your cunt clamps down, gushing wet around his thick cock in thanks for his praise. “Christ. I shoulda known that was your favourite,” he breathes, his right hand pressing at your mound to angle your hips just so, helping his cock find the spot at the end of you that makes your thighs shake with every heavy push. “S’mine too.” 

His lips travel up the side of your neck to the top of your cheek, eyes finding yours when you turn to him. Eddie gives you a gentle pout at the sight of your mouth open to take gasping, whimpering breaths, your eyes fluttering when he starts to bully your clit in line with the increasingly harsh movements inside you. “You were fucking made for me,” he tells you. “You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You cry out, arms giving way underneath you when your body twitches all over, squeezing tight around Eddie’s invading cock. Your head drops into the mattress next to your joined hands, but you nod desperately, wanting him to see that you know perfectly well. That nobody could make you feel as good as Eddie does.

Eddie keeps your body angled how he wants, adjusting your hips to pull your back into an arch. “All mine, aren’t you? Mine to look after, mine to touch. Mine to fuck-” He gives you a harsh thrust that makes your thighs twitch, legs close to giving out if he wasn’t holding you up with his arm under your stomach. “I wanna feel you cum, yeah? Think you can?” 

You’re still nodding, hand gripping his tight, fingers curled through his. 

“For me? Just for me?”

Always. Only for Eddie. You can’t say it, mind too far away to form the thought properly, but the feeling of him saying it like that, claiming your pleasure for himself as he drags it out of you with his cock, heavy and hot, and his hand playing with your clit, drives you over the edge. You mewl into the mattress, cunt clenching tight around his throbbing cock as your pleasure peaks.

Eddie makes a soft whimpering sound as you cum, following you down to bury his face in your shoulder. His hips move faster as he starts chasing his pleasure instead of focusing on yours, hand that was teasing your clit now stroking at your hip to soothe your sensitive, twitchy body. 

Hearing him now, gasping breaths, whimpers in your ear, you sink happily into this feeling. Almost as good as reaching your own peak, the knowledge that you’re making Eddie feel good. That this boy who treats you so well, dedicates himself to helping you find your pleasure, loses himself a little at the clench of your cunt around him.

You drag your clasped hands to your mouth, kissing at the pink skin of his knuckles. How could anybody not want this with him? How could anybody have given him up? You feel a sudden, desperate possession of him, the need to claim him like he claimed you.

“Mine,” you murmur, pressing your lips to the back of his hand in an array of gentle kisses. Your other hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, scratch at the back of his head as he whimpers. You crane your neck, searching for his eyes. They’re dark, shining as they take you in. His cock twitches inside you, and you squeeze his hand again. “Mine?”

His bottom lip shakes. “Yeah. M'yours. Yours, fuck-” He captures your lips but the kiss ends quick when he groans, hips stuttering in your warmth then sinking deep. You keep scratching at his neck as his body shakes through his orgasm, and still after when his weight drops on you and you fall flat to the bed together. You lie there for minutes, catching your breath, luxuriating in the feeling of being held by Eddie, pussy still clenching weakly around him.

Eddie hums, pulling from you slowly with another wet sound that makes you bury your face in your pillow. He rubs at your hip gently, squeezes your hand a final time before untangling from you to deal with the condom. You make a mental note to do something with that before tomorrow morning, but Eddie has your mind going wonderfully blank again when he bounces back beside you and pulls you in. You’re both a little sweaty, cheek a touch too hot against his chest, but you have no interest in cooling down if it means you have to stop touching him.

“Good?” He asks, fingers rubbing at your temple. You hum a long content sound in answer, not ready to form any coherent thought yet, and feel Eddie’s chest shake with laughter under your cheek. “Good.”

You lay like that, clammy and pleasured, convinced nothing could drag you from this bed.  Until you feel a quick pang in your stomach, and the quiet reverie is interrupted by a deep rumble. There’s a moment of silence, then Eddie snorts underneath you. You’d be embarrassed if his laugh didn’t make you want to follow his happiness, smiling shyly when he rubs gently at your tummy. “Hungry work, huh?” He asks, giggling. “Never fear, sweet thing. I can fix that.” He pauses then, licks his lips quickly. “Hey, you got a box of mac and cheese sitting around here, somewhere?”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You flinch, watching with increasing horror as Eddie’s attempts to chop the onion you’d handed him. Fingers splayed and terrifyingly close the blade, you’re stuck between gently taking the knife from him and asking point blank how he’s managed to keep all ten fingers intact this long. 

“Do you want me to finish that?” You ask, frowning when he shakes his head, still fully concentrated on each dangerous movement, his tongue just poking out of his lips in a physical demonstration of his focus. 

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d be appreciating how soft and comfy Eddie looks right now. Black Sabbath t-shirt tucked into his jeans, socked feet ready to slide along your kitchen floor. His dark curls pulled back from his face and braided by your own hands, tied at the end with your favourite lilac scrunchie that you kind of hope he’ll keep.

But you can’t think about it, because you’re terrified Eddie’s going to ruin his musical career here in your kitchen, making pasta.

“No, need, sweet thing,” he assures. “This is a patented Munson technique for chopping onions.”

You could curse yourself for not having any boxed mac and cheese, for suggesting you cook something from scratch together in the first place. You’re used to cooking, with your Mom and Dad, with your friends, and eventually for yourself. But you get the sense that Eddie does a lot of microwaving, looking after himself the same way he has since he was a kid, at dinner time when Wayne is working nights.

“Eddie, can I?” You gently take the knife from him, turning the half of the onion left and chopping it with your thumb tucked in. 

He tilts his chin. “Lacks the adrenaline rush that comes with the Munson method,” he says when you’re done, watching you tip the contents of the chopping board into the heated pan on the stove. Then, a little sheepishly, “I, uh, I don’t cook much. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“You don’t like it, or?”

“I like this,” he answers. “And I make breakfast sometimes with Wayne. But not dinner, so much. He’s usually at the plant that time of day, so nobody ever taught me, I guess.” He pauses. “That’s not true. My mom and I used to cook, I think. Sometimes.”

You wait for a couple of seconds, watching the onions and garlic soften. “When you were a kid?”

“Yeah, we’d make stuff like this. Or, she would. I think I’d just watch mostly. Stir stuff, lick the spoon.”

“Best part,” you say, smiling. Then, watching him carefully. “Your Mom, she…?”

“She died,” he finishes with a shrug. He taps at the counter with his knuckles. “Then I lived with my old man, and he was not one for cooking lessons,” he laughs derisively. “Then one day the bastard dropped me off at Wayne’s. Best thing he ever did for me. Not that he cared either way, he was just sick of having me around.” Eddie finally looks at you then, and catches something in your expression that makes him wince, the laughter that follows clearly forced. “Christ, sorry. I’m really dumping on you today.”

“Don’t apologise, Eddie.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t have-” He shakes his head, tapping the counter again before resting his palms at the edge. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Eddie, of course it matters,” you say, turning off the stove to approach him, standing separated from his body by his arm reaching to the counter, keeping you from wrapping around him the way you want to. “Of course it matters.” 

Eddie shrugs again, and it’s another one of those moments where you wish you were more like him. Eddie always knows what to say, senses where you’re hurt and how to soothe it, knows when to talk and when to just hold you. 

But now that it’s your turn, you’re left feeling useless, stuck just wanting to cry at the thought that anyone has ever hurt him, made him feel like he has something to apologise for just for being around.

“I think you’re so wonderful, Eddie,” you say. “I want you around all the time.”

There’s a second of something. He turns to meet your gaze, searching your face with a frown. Then he gives you a small, barely there smile. The arm between you raises to let you close, wrap him up in a tight hug. You feel his body lose tension as he sighs, your hand stroking his back the way you know he likes. “I want you around all the time, too, sweet thing,” he says softly. “I really do.”

Next Chapter

[mxanigel]

One-word prompts: Spy

Set in Denerim during the DAO "Crime Wave" sequence.

-----

“You hear about that silver shipment stolen from the arl?”

“You believe that rumor?”

“It really happened! The arl was pissed.”

“The arl gets pissed about a lot of things.”

“Well, wouldn’t his anger make more sense if the thief was an Orlesian spy?”

A snort. “Don’t believe everything you hear. Besides, thieves take stuff, not spies.”

“Don’t spies steal information?”

“I guess… But you just said silver was stolen, not information.”

“I heard it was both—” A clank of metal on metal precedes a weak exclamation of “Ow.”

“Stop believing everything you hear.”

“Fine. But don’t come whining to me if the spy pays this place a visit and you miss him because you didn’t believe he existed.”

“He won’t, because he doesn’t.”

Heather suppresses a laugh, tightens her cloak around her shoulders, and slips back into the alley. Though she didn’t overhear the information she wanted, at least she found something entertaining.

[Read all of the prompts by clicking here!]

[hd-junglebook]

Falling For It

Part 2

word count - 2,404

Prev ... Next

Side note - Y'all are eating this damn fic up. 120 likes in two days is crazy and I appreciate all of you for being obsessed with the same man as me <3 Enjoy queens !!

After the night out, Y/n and friends went out the next morning for coffee planning to nurse their hangovers with some girl talk.

Rain tapped against the windows of the cozy coffee shop as Lexi, Angie, and Heather animatedly recounted their encounters with the hockey players, their voices rising with excitement as they relived the thrilling moments.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed loosely over her chest as she listened to her friends' stories, a thoughtful expression playing across her features.

"He was so dreamy," Lexi gushed, her eyes sparkling as she described her conversation with one of the players. "And did you see the way Quinn smiled at me? I swear, I almost melted on the spot."

Angie nodded in agreement, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I know, right? It was like something out of a romance novel. I could barely keep it together with Jesper.”

Heather, turned the conversation to Y/N. "I noticed you've been pretty quiet about the boys," she said with a mischievous laugh. “Someone on your mind?” she probed teasingly.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her mind drifting back to her encounter with Jack at work. She took a deep breath before finally admitting,

“Well since you begged me so nicely. Maybe there is someone,” she admitted, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on the surface of her coffee cup.

Heather's eyes lit up with excitement, her curiosity piqued. "Ooh, spill the tea, girl!" she exclaimed, wiggling her eyebrows eagerly. "We need all the juicy details."

"Well, there is this guy I met at work, but..." She trailed off, uncertainty clouding her expression. Lexi leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, while Angie and Heather exchanged knowing glances, their expressions sympathetic. "But what?" Lexi prompted.

Y/N sighed softly, her gaze dropping to her coffee cup as she wrestled with her thoughts. Rain continued to drum against the windows, a steady rhythm that mirrored the steady beat of her heart.

"He was really cute, like, ridiculously cute," she continued, a sheepish smile playing on her lips.

"But, I don't know, he just seemed like a player, you know All charm and no substance. I didn't want to get involved with someone like that, so I shut him down."

Her friends groaned in disappointment. Y/N shrugged, a pang of regret tugging at her heart. "I don't know, maybe I overreacted," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But it's better to be safe than sorry, right?”

Her friends exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by Y/N's revelation. But after a moment of silence, they nodded in understanding, offering words of support and encouragement.

Angie reached out to squeeze her hand in a gesture of support, while Heather offered a sympathetic smile.

Angie suddenly let out a high-pitched squeal, causing Y/N pull away and instinctively cover her ears in surprise. The sound pierced through the air, leaving her momentarily stunned at Angie's unexpected display of excitement. “Damn girl, relax!” y/n exclaimed back. 

Angie, her eyes sparkling with glee, waved her phone in the air triumphantly. "It's Jesper!" she exclaimed, her grin stretching from ear to ear. "He just asked me out on a date!"

…

The week had flown by in a whirlwind of work and routine for Y/N, but now it was finally Saturday—the day of the hockey game she and her friends had been eagerly anticipating.

As she made her way home from work, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building in the pit of her stomach.

Once home, Y/N wasted no time in tidying up her apartment, she set about lighting a few scented candles and fluffing up the cushions on her couch, all the while accompanied by her faithful feline companion, Hugo, who lounged lazily nearby.

she settled onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn and her favorite blanket draped over her lap, Y/N's phone buzzed with a notification from the group chat. She glanced down at the screen, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she read their excited messages about the upcoming game.

"Hey bitches, don't forget, the game is at 7 tonight!" Lexi's message read. "We need to meet Quinn at the back of the stadium to get in. Can't wait to see you all there!"

With a contented sigh, Y/N leaned back against the cushions, her gaze drifting to the television screen as she queued up an episode of "The 100." It was the perfect way to pass the time until it was time to start getting ready for the game.

The drama unfolds onscreen, Y/N felt herself relaxing into the familiar rhythms of the show, the tension of the week melting away with each passing minute.

But just as she was getting caught up in the action, her phone buzzed again. Y/N glanced down at her phone again, confusion crossing her face as she noticed a new message from an unsaved number.

Frowning in confusion, Y/N set her bowl of popcorn aside and picked up her phone, her heart rate quickening as she read the cryptic message that flashed across the screen.

‘I hope you're happy with what you've done. You might think you've won, but remember, everything has a way of coming back around.’

For a moment, she felt a shiver of unease run down her spine, but she quickly shook it off as a prank and tossed her phone back onto the coffee table.

Refusing to let the strange message ruin her mood, Y/N pushed the unsettling thought to the back of her mind and focused instead on heading to the bathroom to freshen up and prepare for what promised to be an exciting evening ahead.

…

The train rattled along the tracks, carrying Y/N to the Prudential Center, the crisp fall air nipped at her cheeks as she stepped off the train. Y/N followed the gps towards the back of the stadium, her breath forming small clouds in the chilly air.

The sight of the towering arena ahead sent a thrill of anticipation down her spine, and she quickened her pace to reach the group.

Her friends shrieked with excitement as they caught sight of her, she was relieved to see them and eagerly joined in on their chatter, trying to forget about the strange text she had received. Lexi, Angie, Heather, and Y/N followed Quinn inside nearly bowling over Quinn in their haste to escape the cold.

Laughter filled the air as they huddled together, eager to find refuge inside of the arena. Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridors as they made their way toward the stands.

Y/N couldn't help but be awestruck by the sight that greeted them. The vast expanse of the arena stretched out before them, the ice glistening under the bright lights as the hockey players practiced their moves with precision and grace.

"Wow, it's so quiet in here," Angie remarked, her voice hushed in awe as they entered the arena. "I've never been to a game this early before."

Y/N nodded in agreement as they approached the glass overlooking the rink. Quinn grinned at her excitement, gesturing towards the action on the ice. "Wait until you see them in action," she said, her voice filled with pride. "My brother is really good, I should introduce you after the game."

With Quinn leading the way, they made their way to their seats towards their reserved suite at the top of the stadium.

The sound of skates slicing through the ice echoed through the arena, punctuated by the occasional thud of a puck hitting the net. Quinn pointed out some of the star players as they effortlessly executed maneuvers.

Lexi wasted no time in engaging Quinn in playful banter, her flirtatious antics earning a chuckle from Y/N as she watched the scene unfold. The two teased each other mercilessly, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation around them.

Just as the announcements ceased and the players took to the ice, Quinn's voice rang out from behind her, drawing their attention to the jumbo screen overhead. "That's my brother," he exclaimed, her voice tinged with pride as he pointed to the live image of Jack Hughes, the player Y/N had met at work.

A gasp escaped her lips, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, as she sank down in her seat, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

She couldn't believe her luck—or rather, her lack thereof. Of all the places to run into Jack again, why did it have to be here, at a hockey game, with her friends by her side?

The puck dropped, and the players hit the ice with a burst of speed, Y/n's eyes followed the action on the ice, her pulse quickening with each passing moment as the Devils and the Krakens battled it out on the rink.

"Wow, they're really going at it," Lexi exclaimed, her eyes glued to the players as they executed intricate maneuvers with ease. "It's like watching a bunch of rats chase after food."

"Isn't he amazing?" Quinn gushed, oblivious to Y/N's inner turmoil. "He's playing so well this season." Y/N forced a smile, murmuring praise through gritted teeth. Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jack on the screen, his familiar face.

The sound of the horn blaring through the arena cut off their conversation abruptly, the deafening noise signaling the Devils' goal and igniting a frenzy of cheers and applause from the crowd.

Y/N's friends were swept up in the excitement, their voices blending with the roar of the crowd as they celebrated the team's success.

But for Y/N, the shock of seeing Jack on the ice lingered in the back of her mind, casting a shadow over the euphoria of the moment. As the buzzer sounded for intermission, her friends turned to her with concerned looks, their questions hanging in the air.

Before she could even begin to explain, Heather let out a chuckle, nudging her playfully. "That's the guy, isn't it?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement as y/n nodded. "Looks like fate has a funny way of messing with you."

Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend's teasing, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself. "Yeah, it's like the universe has a twisted sense of humor," she replied dryly, shaking her head in disbelief. "Guess I should've brought a disguise or something." 

…

They exited the suite, Quinn practically bounced up and down in excitement, her energy infectious as she addressed the group. "Do you guys wanna come with me to the after-party? The boys want to head to this bar by the beach."

Before Y/N could even respond, the other girls screamed "Yes!" in unison, their excitement matching Quinn's enthusiasm. "Absolutely!" Lexi chimed in. "I'm ready to get fucked up!" A hearty laugh bubbled up from Quinn's lips at their unanimous response, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

The ride to the bar was short but filled with chatter and laughter, the anticipation of the evening ahead palpable in the air. they piled out of the vehicle and made their way down the steps to the entrance, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of giddiness coursing through her veins.

Sounds of laughter and music mingling with the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation. The players moved around in a jovial stupor, shouting greetings and exchanging high-fives as the girls made their way through the crowd. She scanned the crowded room, her eyes searching for one familiar face amidst the sea of strangers.

And then she saw him.

Jack stood in an adjacent room, his fluffy brown hair caught the dim light of the room, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the soft curve of his lips. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched him, her pulse quickening with every step she took.

With each stride, she could feel her confidence growing, her nerves slowly melting away. She threaded her way through the crowd, her gaze fixed on Jack as she approached.

As y/n drew closer, she noticed Jack engrossed in a game of pool, his focus laser-sharp as he lined up his shot. Y/N couldn't help but smile to herself at the sight, her heart thrumming against her chest drowning out the music.

She crept up behind him, the sound of her footsteps lost amidst the din of the bar. Standing on the tips of her toes, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "Hi, stranger."

Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it cut through the noise of the room like a knife. She watched with bated breath as Jack's shoulders tensed, his grip on the pool cue tightening ever so slightly. Slowly, Jack turned to face her, his expression a mixture of surprise and intrigue.

Y/N held her breath at his response. He turned to face Y/N, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that she couldn’t understand. For a brief moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble of existence.

This was her chance, her moment to make a lasting impression on the man who was slowly capturing her mind from the moment she first laid eyes on him.

"Well look who it is," Jack finally replied, his voice low and husky as he returned her greeting. There was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes as he studied her, glancing down to the dress that clung to her body.

She took a step closer placing her hands on her hips, closing the distance between them until there was barely a few inches of space separating their bodies. "I couldn't resist saying hello when I saw you here," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?"

Jack's smile widened at her words, "It certainly does," he agreed, his tone tinged with a hint of intrigue. "And who am I to argue with fate?"

With a smile that felt like it could light up the entire room, Y/N turned back to Jack, her eyes shining with anticipation. "So, stranger," she said playfully, her voice filled with warmth. "Are drinks still on you?

Jack smirked in response, leaning in closer after you stepped away, noticing every inch of the way to looked in front of him. "i thought you'd never ask. Drinks are definitely on me."

 …

[steddieas-shegoes]

won't know unless you try

for @steddie-week prompt 'mutual pining'

rated t | 1919 words | cw: referenced recreational drug use | tags: mutual pining, getting together, awkward flirting, fast burn

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

Eddie’s just the guy he gets drugs from. He has to remind himself of that a little too often.

It’s just that he’s been seeing him weekly for nearly a year now with the exception of his family holiday for two weeks over the summer. When you see someone that frequently, even if only for a couple of minutes, you tend to become friends.

Which is an exaggeration of what they actually are, and Steve can recognize that he is almost definitely the only one who feels anything more for Eddie than what a business transaction would call for. Eddie’s never even so much as hinted at wanting to hang out outside of the exchange of goods, but Steve thinks the small smile and nod he gives when Steve waves goodbye to him is flirting.

Or flirting adjacent.

Eddie may not even actually like guys. Steve’s not the best at reading people, and it’s gotten his heart in trouble plenty of times before.

Like when he was pretty sure he was in love with Robin and she awkwardly came out to him in a bar’s bathroom, leaving him feeling a bit dumb, a little heartbroken, and a lot disappointed. Luckily, she was able to give him space for a few days and he realized he just loved being her friend.

It didn’t go so well with Evan or Cooper or Connor. Or Amanda or Heather or Caitlin.

But with Eddie, it felt different.

You won’t know unless you try, ran through Steve’s head on loop as he walked up to the front door of Eddie’s apartment.

Only a few customers got the privilege of knowing where he lived, Steve being one of them.

Months of sad attempts at flirting and awkward giggling led up to this moment.

He knocked on Eddie’s door, smiling to himself when he heard music shut off and a curse as Eddie must’ve stumbled over something.

The door swung open and Eddie was standing there with his guitar slung over his back, hair pulled into a bun.

“Hey, Stevie.”

****

No other customers got to come to his apartment, that was his biggest rule.

A rule he broke the moment Steve had been in a rush and had only been a few blocks from where he lived.

He knew why, and he knew it was stupid, and that he was just hoping for something to happen. He needed Steve to make a move.

But Steve never did. He was kind of awkward, actually, not even close to as charming as his friend Jeff made him believe. Well, the awkwardness was actually a little charming. But Jeff had made it sound like he was some casanova who could get anyone he wanted with one line and a well-placed touch.

He never gave discounts, either, that was his other biggest rule.

But Steve never paid full price, not even the first time.

He’d looked exhausted and sad and, well, pathetic. Eddie felt bad for him and ended up giving him a bit of a buy one get one situation. And then he just…kept doing that.

Steve didn’t know. He didn’t think he knew. He never said anything about paying more elsewhere or anything, so maybe he just never shopped around.

Steve was one of his best customers, and at this point, Eddie needed to just make it clear that he wanted to be more.

That’s why the moment Steve texted him that he was on his way, Eddie had thrown his hair up and grabbed his guitar, trying to look effortless while putting as much effort as ever into how he looked. If this didn’t work, he wasn’t sure anything would.

The knock on the door sent him spiraling. Suddenly he hated every choice he made up until this point. Why had he put his hair up in a bun? It made him look like he just got out of bed. And this shirt had stains on it. Not obvious ones, but he could still see them.

He opened the door to see Steve standing there, smiling at him, fingers giving that silly little wiggle.

“Hey, Stevie,” he could hear how breathless he sounded, but he covered it with a slow inhale. “Come in. I was just practicing.”

“I’ll be quick then,” Steve said as he stepped in the doorway.

“No, it’s okay!” Jesus, Eddie, chill out.

Steve just smiled and settled his hands in his pockets. “You write your own stuff, right?”

While they may have only spoken for a few minutes at a time every week, they both gave plenty of little tidbits about themselves. Eddie had shared his love of music early on, talked about his band more than anything else.

“Yeah, when inspiration strikes.” Eddie shrugged.

“Have you been inspired lately?” Steve asked, still standing in front of Eddie with his hands in his pockets.

Eddie thought about the notebook open in his bedroom, line after line of lyrics about Steve.

“You could say that,” he answered.

“Could I hear one?” Steve asked.

Eddie never got nervous before playing in front of a crowd, or friends, or even his Uncle Wayne. He thrived on the adrenaline of an audience watching him, sometimes singing along, sometimes just nodding their head to the beat if they didn’t know the words.

But Steve hearing a song he wrote here? In his apartment? Alone?

His stomach was already turning and his chest constricted with anxiety.

“I mean, no pressure!” Steve quickly held his hands up. “You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s fine! I just usually play with my band, ya know? It won’t really sound the same without them, but if you really want…” Eddie looked towards his amp set up in the corner of his living room.

“I’d love to.”

Eddie was pretty sure this would scare Steve away, but maybe this was the move he had to make. At least he’d know one way or another if Steve was actually interested in him.

He knew exactly what song he wanted to play. He hadn’t even taken it to the guys yet, only played it acoustically so far because he knew it wouldn’t sound right with just his vocals and electric guitar.

It still needed some work lyrically, but he was pretty proud of it.

He gestured for Steve to sit on his couch, pushing thoughts about there being stains on his coffee table from not using coasters out of his mind so he could focus on his task at hand.

He rushed to the corner of the room to switch guitars, then rushed back and sat across from him on the couch.

“So this is one I haven’t even shown the band yet. I’m not sure if we’ll even play it. It’s…special to me,” Eddie rambled. “Sometimes I prefer to just have those for myself. Like sharing it with other people doesn’t feel right because it’s thoughts catered to me by me. That doesn’t even make sense-”

“Hey,” Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s arm. “It makes sense. I’m not really a musician or artist or anything, but one of the kids I used to babysit for was. He would get really nervous about stuff that was personal. I think it’s pretty normal.”

Eddie swallowed around the lump in his throat.

He was really doing this. Okay, then.

“Okay.” Eddie nodded. “Okay. Here we go.”

Eddie could feel Steve’s eyes on him as he sang a song about barely knowing someone but wanting them, about trusting that that person would be right for him, about getting a chance to love them. It was too much, but Steve didn’t run away, not even when Eddie finally looked up as he finished singing the last line.

“That was beautiful.” Steve had tears in his eyes. “I thought you guys were a metal band.”

Eddie laughed. “We are! This one will probably have some edits and I know Gareth will give it the double bass treatment. But for now, it’s more of a slow ballad.”

Steve had inched in closer to him while he played, his knee brushing against Eddie’s where it rested. He looked down at where they touched, then back up at Steve, who was biting his lip.

“This is gonna sound…so crazy. And you can totally kick me out and never let me come here ever again! But I just-”

“It’s about you.”

Steve’s breath caught as his eyes searched Eddie’s, probably looking for any sign that he was lying.

“You wrote a song about me?” Steve’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why?”

“Did you hear the part about knowing that something was right without knowing much at all?” Eddie leaned in, catching the scent of whatever cologne Steve had on.

“I just didn’t wanna assume you meant me.”

Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek in his palm. “You should always assume I mean you.”

*****

Steve leaned into Eddie’s hand, hoping the heat on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“You barely know me, though.”

Eddie leaned in further, resting his forehead against Steve’s and breathing out.

“I know enough to know I wanna know more.”

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Before I gave you my address. No one else is allowed to pick up here.”

Steve’s eyes widened momentarily at his admission. He knew he had some special privilege with picking up at Eddie’s place, but didn’t realize he was the only one who did.

“But that was…months ago?” Steve had been sitting with his own feelings for so long, he was finding it hard to grasp that Eddie might have been feeling the same this whole time.

“Yeah. Seeing you for five to ten minutes every week has kind of been the highlight of my year,” Eddie admitted. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Steve answered him by leaning in the last few inches to kiss him.

He ended up staying for the rest of the night, and most of the next day, and nearly any moment he wasn’t working was spent with Eddie.

Five minutes a week turned into five days a week quickly, and nothing made Steve happier than driving straight to Eddie’s apartment after a long shift. He had a key now, so that if Eddie happened to be at band practice or his own job, Steve could let himself in and relax.

Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly stressed, he’d grab one of Eddie’s edibles and hop in a hot shower.

Eddie usually made it back in time to join him, and they’d get carried away for hours.

It took months for Steve to realize Eddie never seemed to sell to anyone.

“You know it doesn’t bother me if you do. I know you’re careful,” Steve said over dinner.

“Stevie, I really only kept selling to see you.”

“Oh.” Steve looked down at his lap to hide his blush. “So do you need me to pitch in for rent or anything since I practically live here?”

“Sweetheart, I really didn’t need the money,” Eddie laughed as he reached for Steve’s hand. “I’m good. But if you wanted to move in, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“This is crazy, you know that, right?” Steve’s heart was racing in his chest at the suggestion.

“Not really. I love you, you love me, you do practically live here, and we spent over a year pining for each other. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

When he put it like that, Steve had no choice but to agree.

[senditcolton]

So Tragic and Rare

"Meet in the Middle" (pt. 13)

a/n: hello again! another fic added to the universe. this one is not as wild and crazy as the last but a nice little look in at where Andrei and Keely's relationship might go.

word count: 5.2k warnings: none! masterlist

When Andrei’s phone buzzes, he is in the middle of untying his skates after practice, the laces tight in his hands. His eyes glance over, the text message preview shining brightly on the screen and Andrei’s movements stop when he registers the name of his agent. And his heartrate increases when he reads the three-word message.

Mark Call me asap.

Andrei can’t stop his mind from spiraling. There was absolutely no reason his agent should be texting him, especially not with that cryptic message that conveyed a dire sense of urgency. He wasn’t in danger of being traded or put on waivers or anything else that would prompt this text from Mark. Unless, it was something else; an outside source implicating Andrei in something that could be damaging to his career.

The confusion and small hint of fear coursing through him causes Andrei to finish his post-practice routine in record time, racing back to his car before calling Mark back. The nerves do not settle when his agents voice comes through the speakers of his phone.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Andrei?”

The question catches him off-guard even more that his agent’s previous text, something that Andrei expresses with a vocal bewildered ‘what?’

“I received a very interesting phone call today from one Heather Griffith,” Mark explains. “Do you know she is?”

“No,” Andrei answers, the name not pulling any image into his mind, the hesitancy painting the single syllable response.

“She is a publicist, known in music circles. And today, she reached out to our office on behalf of Keely Halloran. Do you know her? She performed at the All-Star Game last month.”

As if Andrei could forget about Keely Halloran. As if he hadn’t spent the last month gathering every scrap of information that he could about the rockstar that had crashed into his life that weekend in Toronto. As if he still didn’t see her face and hear her voice in his dreams and feel her touch in his dreams.

Of course, he doesn’t say any of that to his agent. Instead, he just responds with a small affirmative hum, enough for Mark to continue.

“Well, apparently Halloran was wondering if there was a time that the two of you could get together during the Canes upcoming northeast road trip.”

“The New Jersey, New York, Boston trip?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” Mark responds. Through the speakers, Andrei can hear him flipping through some papers before he speaks again. “She says that she could either have you meet her at her recording studio in New York City or at her apartment in Boston; whatever works best for your schedule.”

There is a beat of silence as Andrei takes in the information. In the month after Toronto and he hadn’t heard anything from Keely. Her social media hadn’t even updated and any news stories that she was involved in had either been rumors or old new. There were moments when he wasn’t even sure that she would ever reach out to him. He had been – still was – willing to wait for her, just like he promised. But the complete radio silence had him wondering how long he was supposed to wait. A month? Six? A year?

That question was clearly irrelevant, now that his agent was telling him that she wanted to see him.

“Andrei, you still there?”

Mark’s voice breaks him out of his reverie and he clears his throat before responding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. Um, New York would be better since the travel between Jersey and the city isn’t as much as New York to Boston. I mean, I could do Boston also but I’m not sure.”

“Let’s just stick with New York. I’ll reach out to her publicist to confirm and we’ll work out details from there.”

Andrei continues to sit in stunned silence, listening to the clack of a keyboard and more flipping pages until Mark sighs again.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Andrei?” he asks, his voice haggard as he repeats the question posed at the very beginning of their phone call.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do I have a rockstar’s publicist on my answering machine? How did this even happen?”

Andrei can understand both his agent’s confusion and his concern. He knows that he should tell Mark everything, give him all the information he could because that was Mark’s job. His agent didn’t only help Andrei navigate contracts but also navigate the world as someone with a spotlight on him. And news like this, his connection with an insanely popular musician, would just draw more eyes to him.

But something stops him from telling Mark exactly what happened – what was happening – between him and Keely. Perhaps he wanted to keep Keely safe, protect her as much as he could. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t exactly sure what he and Keely shared.

“I don’t know,” Andrei replies, choosing to give Mark an abridged version that still had glimmers of the truth. “We connected at the All-Star game and I asked to keep in touch. Now, this.”

“Fine,” Mark says, a defeated sound coming from his chest and Andrei can picture the shake of his head. “Just, whenever you know, please tell me. Might need to high more PR or at least a crisis consultant.”

The last sentence is more muttered than spoken but Andrei hears it all the same before the line goes dead. Mark’s concern digs into Andrei, making him think deeper about his agent’s questions.

He didn’t really know where this – whatever he shared with Keely Halloran – was going. He initially thought it might have ended a month ago. He didn’t know if it would last past this next week. It was tenuous, delicate. And he knew that fragility wouldn’t disappear even if their bond strengthened.

That was just what happened, considering who she was. Who he was.

But he tries to let those concerns roll off him, like water off a duck wing. There was no point worrying about a future when that wasn’t even certain. That mindset made him a good hockey player and he knew that mindset would make him good for Keely.

If she wanted him.

~*~*~*~*~

~*~*~*~*~

The electronic voice of Andrei’s Google Maps directs him to turn off 17th, down Greenwich Ave. His legs may have been a little sore from the morning skate plus the 30-minutes he had been walking but Andrei could easily count the positives.

Like the fact that no one had stopped him since leaving the hotel, or that it was a pleasantly warm day, or that he had almost arrived at the studio, or that he was about to see Keely again.

His app tells him the Electric Lady Studios is coming up on his left and Andrei takes out his headphones. He looks ahead on the sidewalk for a sign or anything other identifiers. He doesn’t expect for his identifier to be the small group of men with cameras lingering outside but Keely did warn him about the possibility.

The sight of them gives Andrei pause, his steps slowing. He’s sure that he is unworthy of getting a phot taken, the men most likely looking for higher list celebrities. But just to be safe, Andrei adjusts his sunglasses and pulls his baseball cap a little lower. With a deep breath, he walks up to the front door and pulls it open with as much casualness as he can muster, hoping that the paparazzi thought he was just another worker or security guard.

The sound clicking camera shutters do not hit his ears and a sigh of relief flows through him. Quickly taking off his meager disguise, smoothing his hair with his hands, he walks up to the front desk where serious woman sits, typing on a computer.

“Hello,” he says, causing the woman’s eyes to look up at him over her horn-rimmed glasses, her eyebrows raising. Andrei tries not to let himself falter under her stare, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m here to see Keely Halloran.”

“Name.”

“Andrei Svechnikov,” he replies, waiting to see if any form of recognition crosses over her face. But the receptionist, unfazed, simply picks up the landline, tapping a few numbers before murmuring Andrei’s information to the person on the other end. Andrei watches the small nod of her head before she is placing the phone back down and fixing her eyes on him once again.

“Studio D. Down the hall to the left.”

Andrei leaves her with a polite thank you, receiving only a hum in response. He walks across the plush carpet, following the receptionist’s directions as well the signs hanging on the walls until he arrives at the recording studio labeled with the letter D. After another slow deep breath, he pulls open the door.

It is nearly silent when he steps into the room but he can hear the soft somewhat muffled sound of Keely’s singing. The room is on the smaller size, the main attraction being the giant switchboard facing a huge window. Two men were standing in front of the board, giant headphones on their ears and he could see their fingers moving. Andrei looks past them, through the window, and sees Keely.

After a month of only seeing her through a phone or computer screen, the sight of her in front of him takes his breath away. She was beautiful – no photos could compare seeing her in person. Photographs could never capture the beauty of her entire essence: sitting in the live studio, her own headphones perched on her head as she sings into a microphone, her eyes almost closed, her hands emoting with every word.

Andrei just stands back, not wanting to disturb the moment, content to watch Keely in her element. She pauses, looking back towards the window and it is then do her eyes flit up to Andrei. The skip of his heart is noticeable when her smile grows exponentially at the sight of him. She sends a soft wave in his direction as a silent hello, before her fingers curl to indicate ‘one moment.’ He just nods, patiently waiting as she does a few more takes before she takes off her headphones.

Keely gets up from the chair she was perched in and walks through the connecting door, smiling at Andrei before turning her attention to her producers.

It is fascinating, watching her work. He assumes that this is how people felt watching him skate.

Keely looked so in her element, leaning over the switchboard, her hands holding her headphones in place, her head moving with the beat. He watches how she talks to her producers, humming and singing, brainstorming ideas about the music and lyrics. Her smile never leaves her face, not even when a soft thank you fall from her lips. Her producers get up from their seats, receiving a warm hug from Keely before they depart. And then, finally, she turns her attention to Andrei.

“Hi,” she says, the lingering happiness painting her words.

“Hey.”

It’s one of the only words Andrei can say, still in shock that he was able to see her again. Still surprised that she reached out to him after a month of silence.

“Sorry again about the whole fiasco of setting this up,” Keely laughs, pushing the door open to the other side of the recording studio, holding it in a silent invitation for Andrei to follow behind. “I hope you were able to get here okay.”

“It was fine. New York is beautiful so it’s nice to walk around.”

Andrei’s words slightly trail off as he walks into the live room. He wasn’t able to see the entirety of it until now. It is cozy; the warm paneling, a myriad of couches and chairs, and even plants sitting on many surfaces. But it is also so obviously a recording studio with every different type of instrument placed along almost every wall. He watches Keely sink down onto one of the couches, her blue eyes looking up at him, the excitement of seeing him and having him here, in her world, evident. Andrei returns her smile as he sinks into the cushions opposite her before continuing.

“And don’t apologize. I’m honestly just happy you reached out,” he continues, letting his smile widen ever so slightly. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“Grow tired of waiting for me?”

“Never,” he responds immediately with a sharp sincerity. “Although, if I got your number back in Toronto, it might have been easier to remind you that I was here.”

Keely laughs, her head tilt indicating he made a good point but her laughter fades as she looks back at him with that genuine expression that made the temperature of his body increase.

“I wouldn’t need a reminder,” she softly says. “I never forgot about you.”

This woman. A part of Andrei wondered if she’d ever stop making his heart do flips in his chest.

“Really?” he asks, the question lifted with an air of uncertainty. His shock is once again noticed by Keely who only laughs that bright laugh in response.

“Of course. You think I let any random guy I met once into my recording studio?”

Andrei shares in her laughter, never ceasing to love how confident and carefree she was.

“It is a beautiful studio.”

“Thank you,” Keely replies, looking around the space before training her blue eyes back to Andrei. “I hope this isn’t too weird but I was wondering if you’d be comfortable having lunch with me in here? There’s a mini fridge that I keep stocked with food or we could order in.”

“You have a fully stocked mini-fridge?”

“Never know how long I’ll be working. Don’t want to interrupt the creative process by having to walk outside and grab a bite to eat, y’know?”

Andrei replies with a soft chuckle of understand because he did get it. There were moments in practice where he did not want to leave the ice until he perfected a specific technique or a specific play and then repeated it until it became muscle memory. He could imagine writing a song might operate the same way.

“I’m fine with whatever,” he says, his shoulder shrugging, leaving the decision entirely up to her.

“Cool. I think I’ll order some food then. There’s this Italian place a few blocks away that to die for,” Keely replies, lifting herself up and grabbing her cell-phone before turning to Andrei. “Chicken and pasta, right?”

“Yeah,” Andrei confirms, his smile growing on his face. “How’d you remember?”

“Like I said, it was hard to forget about you.”

Andrei leans back and lets Keely type their order into her phone (although he does offer his own card to pay but she shoos his request away, saying she invited him). She settles back down on the couch and while they wait for the delivery, they talk, catching each other up on what had been happening in their lives.

It was surface level stuff at first: how the season was going for Carolina, how many times Keely had been in the studio. When their food arrives, their conversation turns more intimate, talking about smaller, non-headline items. Keely shows him videos of her dog Gigi and some other photos of Boston from her point of view. Andrei recounts the absolute freak-out that Seth Jarvis had when Andrei sent him the video they shot up in Toronto. He can’t contain his laughter, even going to show the all-capital multi exclamation point text messages that he received, causing Keely to laugh as well.

“Well, if that’s how he reacts to a video, I can only imagine what he’d be like if I ever meet him.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

“Maybe. You think I will?” Keely says, responding with her own question and Andrei can see both the gentle tease in her eyes as well as the sincere hope. The hope that maybe meeting each other’s friends was were this could be heading, growing from a chance meeting to something real.  

“I guess we’ll find out,” he replies, his own eyes surely sparkling with that same hope.  

“Guess we will.”

“You look great by the way. I’m not sure if I’d told you that yet.”

“If you did, I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing it again.”

“Well, you do,” Andrei compliments, his gaze darting down her body.

She always did look fantastic but this felt different. Her outfit matched her demeanor: casual and relaxed. Another monochrome outfit of a tank top, pants, boots, her hair in two braids, that made her seem so effortlessly cool. His eyes trace the lines of her necklaces and down to the bracelets adorning her wrists before noticing the ring on her middle finger. He recognizes it as the same one from her jewelry tray in her hotel bathroom.

“I like your ring,” he says, gesturing. “I saw it… well, that night. It’s very unique.”

Keely’s eyes follow his gesture, her right hand lifting as she takes in the jewelry, a small chuckle falling from her lips.

“It’s actually one of the most common rings you’ll see in Boston. Especially South Boston.”

“Really? What is it?”

“It’s called a Claddagh ring. Old Irish tradition,” she explains.

She holds her hand out and Andrei doesn’t hesitate to take a hold of it. There is a notable shiver that runs through Keely at his touch, a smile appearing on her face – one that Andrei matches, his thumb running over her knuckles. She lets out a small shaky breath before continuing.

“The heart represents love, the crown loyalty, and the hands friendship,” Keely says, pointing to each element of the ring. “Most girls get one when they turn seventeen or eighteen. It’s actually a way to show relationship status. When it’s on the right hand – like mine – and the bottom of the heart is pointing out – like mine – it means that your heart is open to love. If the heart is pointed towards the wearer, it means they’re in a relationship. And then on the left hand, pointed out means engaged, pointed in means married.”

“Sounds complicated,” Andrei laughs, making sure his voice stays light as to not offend.  

“Only if you don’t know the traditions,” she teases back, taking his jest in stride.

“You wore it the other way for a while,” he comments. There is a silence that falls and Andrei’s eyes dart up to see Keely staring at her ring, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Tan line is still there,” Andrei explains, his thumb running over the ring, pulling it slightly to the side to show the – albeit very faint – tan line. Keely’s hand slips from his as she brings it closer to her own eyes, taking in the lighter skin.

“You think it would’ve faded by now,” she sighs, rubbing the finger, the ring twisting as she looks away, her eyes distant.

Andrei just sits there, taking in the sight of the vulnerable woman sitting in front of him. It still hurt him, how much pain that she had obviously gone through. But it also made his heart soft that she was this open and trusting with him after only a few interactions.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m sure you know the story,” she says with a humorless chuckle, her eyes darting over to him.

He didn’t want to tell her that yes, he did. After he left Toronto, he looked up as much as he could about her, trying to understand who Keely Halloran was. There was a lot of noise to dig through: internet trolls, overly critical journalists, people who had nothing to say but still said it as loud as possible. But he did know the story of her recent breakup and the fallout that followed.

“I haven’t heard it from you.”

Her blue eyes dart up to him and he hopes she understands that he wanted to hear about what happened from her perspective; the perspective of the person who lived through it all. Not to satiate some sick hunger to get information from superstar Keely Halloran but because he cared about her.

It seems as if his expression conveys enough because that self-deprecating smile softens. She lets out a small sigh before speaking.

“The short of it… is that he cheated on me. The long of it is that he cheated on me multiple times, in multiple places, in the five years we were together. Told me everything after we broke up. I wrote a song about it, got crucified for writing said song, disappeared for a few months, and now – here I am.”

“Multiple times in multiple places?” he repeats, shocked that there was a guy out there that was just plain stupid. Keely just shrugs.

“The danger of dating someone who travels for their job. It’s pretty easy to hide infidelity when you’re in different cities.”

“But he told you?”

“Yeah,” Keely chuckles, her eyes rolling. “Wrote me a letter, in fact.”

“The Late-Night performance,” Andrei whispers, remembering the messy scrawl that was projected across the soundstage.

“Yep. I don’t know if he was asking for forgiveness or wanted to cleanse his soul or some other bullshit,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “The funny thing is, him doing that is what caused everything else to happen. He could’ve gotten off scot-free if he just kept his mouth shut. But then again, I suppose I didn’t have to write a song attacking him.”

“No,” Andrei says. Keely glances back over at him, her eyebrows furrowed in a silent question. “If he didn’t want you – a singer – to write a song about how he hurt you, he shouldn’t have hurt you.”

 He can see Keely blink a few times, her body shifting, leaning back in surprise at his words and the conviction in his voice. Another sly smile tugs at her lips, her blue eyes fixed on him.

“Where were you a year ago?” she asks, her voice lilting in a gentle tease.

Andrei responds with a chuckle of his own, blushing as his head ducks down, scratching the back of his neck. He glances back up at Keely, her gaze taking him in, that cool casual demeanor thrown over her again like a security blanket.

“What about you, Andrei? Any past relationship drama I should know about?”

“No, not really,” he replies, gently laughing off her question.

“Really? No gossip that I can dig up on social media or through Google,” she says, relaxing him by gently poking fun at herself and her fishbowl life.

“Nah, there’s not much to say. My job and all… it – it keeps me busy. I only have summer really to date. But then hockey starts again and I’m travelling and… yeah,” he explains with a shrug. “Most of my problems have been physical: injuries. Missed last year’s playoffs because of my knee.”

“I’m sorry. I mean, that’s gotta suck.”

“It’s fine. Well, it wasn’t but… I’m all good now.”

“Back and better than ever?” she muses, that bright smile returning to her face.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Something we both can relate to.”

Andrei matches her grin as the two of them sit in that comfortable silence of a deeper understanding. Their worlds, while slightly different, were oddly similar as well. They had outside eyes on them, unsolicited opinions on their careers coming from every direction. But they both loved what they did. It was an intrinsic part of them, something that they couldn’t suppress even if it might be easier for them if they did.

“What were you working on? When I showed up?” Andrei asks, moving the conversation to what he hoped was lighter subject matter. His heart flips when he sees Keely’s eyes light up, the expression so like the joy he expressed on the ice.

“Just a new song. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet. Might be scrapped, might be on the next album. We’ll see,” she explains.

“Can I hear it?”

“For you? Of course.”

Keely jumps up from the couch, careful not to knock over any of their empty takeout containers. She tells him to wait as she disappears into the control room. Andrei can still see her from the other side of the window fiddling with the control board. The instrumental somewhat startles him when it starts playing through the speakers. He can tell that it is a work in progress, not as completed as the songs that he hears on the radio. But he sits and listens to the snippet played.

Tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve and fuck like a demon. Do it like nothing, I am disgusting, I’ve been corrupted and by now I don’t need no help to be destructive. I’ve been gone. Yeah, I’ve been on this road too long.

The track stops and Andrei looks back at Keely through the window. She smiles, giving him a questioning thumbs up to which he responds to with one of his own. He watches as she practically bounds back in and sits down in her previous spot.

“Yeah, no idea what it’s going to turn into, if it’s going to be anything. One idea that I had that I’m really attached to is adding this cool skip effect to the word ‘corrupted’ just to emphasize that meaning. But any way… what do you think? Honest opinion.”

“I, um, I don’t know a lot about music. I don’t want to offend,” Andrei slowly replies. Keely just playfully scoffs at his explanation, rolling her eyes in a teasing jest.   

“Please, you know my life. It’ll take a lot to offend me,” she laughs. Andrei replies with a tilt of his head, silently telling her that she made an excellent point.  

“I like the music. I’m not sure about the lyrics. They’re a little… dark?”

“Dark?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t seem like you. But maybe I’m seeing a different side of you that makes me feel like that,” Andrei explains, looking up at Keely with shy brown eyes. This time, it’s Keely that tilts her head in agreement to his statement.

“You might be right. Well, maybe you’ll like these lyrics a little better.”

Keely once again pops up from her sitting position, walking swiftly over to the wall of guitars, and grabs one without hesitation. He watches as she gently sets it down on the couch across from him, before taking one of the smaller amps and bringing it up. With a practiced ease, she connects the instrument, pulling it into her lap and tuning it.

She strums a few notes, making sure everything was correct before she starts playing an upbeat chord progression, her foot tapping to the beat. The melody of the guitar already makes a smile appear on Andrei’s face, one that only widens when she starts singing.

“You should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. You should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. And I had a boyfriend who’s older than us. I haven’t seen him in a couple of months. I go through phases when it comes to love. I’m nothing that you want but I must say:

You’re so gorgeous, and I ain’t just talking about your face but look at your face. (ah-huh-ah) And I’m so curious. Your mind got me feeling some type of way. What can I say? You’re gorgeous. (huh, huh, ah-huh-ah)”

If there was one thing that was for certain, it was that Keely Halloran would never cease to surprise him. That was the thought repeating in Andrei’s mind as he watched her sing. She was so at ease, the weight that had been so evident on her shoulders seemingly vanished and all that was left was the music. The soft smile on his face remains even as she stops playing, her bright blue eyes looking up at him.

“I’m still not sure how I feel about that one,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as she rests the guitar against the couch cushions. “I think if I figure out the lyrics, I might send it off to another artist.”

“I like that one,” Andrei says, his voice painted with soft admiration.

“Well, I hope so. It’s about you after all.”

Those electric blue eyes seem to sparkle with the intensity of a million stars at the quiet confession. Andrei was slightly taken aback, not fully realizing how much he impacted this woman’s life until now. They only interacted with each other a minimum of three separate times, not including this one. What did she see in him? How had he not messed this up already?

“Well, I love it,” he says.

“I wrote another song about you,” Keely says, dropping the information so casually as if discussing the weather. Andrei wasn’t sure if she was emboldened by his sincerity or just liked to see him flail but whatever the reason, Andrei loved the way that it looked on her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I already sent it off to my friend Damiano. The moment I wrote it I knew it would fit perfectly on his band’s new album.”

“Can I still hear it?”

“You’ll have to wait for it to come out, just like everybody else. Besides, you already got enough of a sneak peek.”

The comfortable silence falls again as Andrei watches Keely return the guitar and amp to their homes. It’s almost perfect, a glimpse into what a potential future with her would look like. That is, until the sound of an alert shatters the peace. Andrei recognizes it as his alarm tone and he fishes out his cellphone from his pocket. The alert on his screen makes his heart slightly drop that it was that time already.

“Sorry, it’s an alarm I set,” he explains gently, turning off the noise and shoving the phone back in his pocket before lifting himself off the couch cushions. “I’ve gotta head back to the hotel.”

“Hey, I understand,” Keely says, walking with him out of the recording room, back into the control room and the door to the studio. Andrei stops, turning back to Keely, his hat and sunglasses in his hands.

“Are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“No. I planned on staying in the city for the rest of the night, have some dinner with my friends, before heading back to Boston. Plus, me, at a Rangers game? Can you imagine?”

“Well, the Bruins game, then.”

“So confident,” she smiles, the words a glimmer of those exchanged in Toronto. “I think that is a definite possibility. I’m planning on going to TD Garden for a friend’s concert the night before the game anyway so, I’ll be in the area.”

“Would you be rooting for me?” he asks, a playful tease painting his words, one that makes Keely’s lips twist in her own mischievous grin.

“I don’t know, Svechnikov. You’ve gotta be pretty amazing for me to forsake a lifetime of hockey loyalty.”

“I’ll make sure to play my best game just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“You’ve written two songs about me. I’ve gotta catch up.”

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[milfjuulpod]

hi!! can you do one of melissa x fem reader where reader just started teaching at abbott and melissa develops feelings pretty quickly after they become really close, but doesn’t know reader is dating someone. until reader’s partner starts visiting her at work & melissa gets jealous. little does melissa know that reader likes her back & wants to leave her partner cause they’re kinda shitty to her or whatever you think works best!! and with melissa & reader eventually getting together:)

i’m terrible at explaining skdjfhd but i hope it’s good enough!!! i love your work btw!!!<3

She’s Not You

summary: see req

content/warnings: heavy cursing, hinting at emotional abuse, fluff in the end tho duh

a/n: hello :p thank you for sending a req and for the kind words 🥺 i could cry. i hope you like this, i am not too happy with it so maybe i’ll revisit this prompt but for now, here u are! much love 🫶

Abbott Elementary quickly became your safe haven. After landing a job as a third grade teacher, you’ve gone from just another face to part of the family. Particularly, with Melissa Schemmenti. Your job opening was actually because of Melissa. Her meshed second and third grade classes proved to be too much for even Melissa and an aid, and somehow the driven teacher found money through the district to hire you.

Both you and Melissa felt indebted to each other, her basically giving you the job, and you saving her from the worst year of teaching yet. At least, that’s what the two of you kept telling yourselves. I’m just returning the favor.

That’s why Melissa offered to show you how to cook, why you invited her over to show her some cult classic movies, why the two of you became…close, to say the least. Even though the two of you shared some intimate moments, you never shared many intimate details. It wasn’t until your partner of three years started coming to your work that you realized you had never shared that part of your life with Melissa.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Melissa more about your life, you wanted to badly. But, you were afraid. The relationship between you and your partner was less than, in your eyes. Of course at the beginning it was all roses and smiles and kisses and whispers, but slowly the facade dropped, and you slowly began to meet the person you had dedicated way too much of your personal life to.

You knew the only reason Heather, your girlfriend, was coming by to work was because she didn’t have enough control. She noticed how much happier you were, how you were thriving. And since it wasn’t coming from Heather herself, she needed that to change.

The first time she came by, it was unannounced. You sat in the break room, in your usual spot a little too close to Melissa, the two of you working on a crossword together. Your thoughts of the clues were interrupted by a familiar voice that made your blood run cold. “Hey baby, happy to see me?” Heather announced herself to the room. You blinked a few times to ensure you weren’t dreaming, missing Melissa throw Heather the nastiest glare she could.

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You asked Heather with a small smile, although you were secretly worried about her true intentions. She decided to make herself comfortable and pull up a chair next to you. Everyone else in the break room simply stared, worried for the girl who was unknowingly digging a deeper and deeper hole with the Italian teacher sitting a foot away from her.

“I missed you, wanted to bring you lunch. You didn’t eat breakfast this morning, or grab the coffee I made you. I woke up early for that, y’know,” she said to you, plopping the bag of food in front of you. To an outsider, it might’ve seemed like light teasing between a comfortable couple. But you knew that tone. The tone that meant she was going to bring this up later, start a fight, and then make it up to you before you could change your mind about finally leaving.

You muttered a quiet “thanks,” and took the food in your hand. “Why don’t I show you my classroom?” Before Heather could respond, you were out of your seat and guiding the two of you to the door.

“Who was that?” Barbara asked the room, although she gave pointed eyes to Melissa, knowing the two of you had grown close rather quickly. Melissa on the other hand, was angrily staring at the crossword in front of her. How dare this stranger come and interrupt the time she treasured with you, taking you away and-

Then she remembered the pet name, the mention of breakfast and coffee, and the dots connected. You had a girlfriend. A girlfriend Melissa knew absolutely nothing about. She didn’t even know you liked women. Sure, she had her suspicions, after all you weren’t very subtle about it. But you never opened up to Melissa about it, the loving of women or the girl you had already loved, and that made Melissa’s heart shatter more than she felt she could physically handle.

The redhead abruptly stood up from her seat and started gathering her things. She could not be around others right now, not in this emotional state. Melissa knew she had a crush on you, she just didn’t think it was this bad. To the point of making the usual hard-shelled woman fall to pieces at the sight of you with somebody else. In her haste exit, Melissa missed the many friends she had calling out to her, she couldn’t hear anything other than the thousands of thoughts in her head.

“Fuck,” Melissa muttered to herself, leaning against the wall in the hallway. She covered her face in her hands, hoping it would stop the tears from leaving her green eyes. She did her best to quickly pull herself together before anyone saw, and made the walk back to her classroom. Of course, she had to pass your room to get to her own. The sight of your classroom door made Melissa’s stomach turn. Usually it was because of butterflies, and now dread. She felt sick.

As she got closer, she could hear voices coming from inside. Melissa stood still for a moment, debating whether or not she truly wanted to know what was being said in there. Against her brain telling her to do otherwise, Melissa creeped towards your door, trying her best to listen for conversation.

“I make you coffee and you don’t drink it, I bring you lunch and you don’t eat it, what the fuck is your problem? Do you have no appreciation for those around you? Are you that fucked up?” The voice from earlier could be heard through the door. Melissa was shocked, angry, jealous, all rolled up into one storm. Which would explain why she swung open your door before she could tell herself no.

“Who are you? We’re having a conversation.” Heather spat at Melissa immediately. Before answering, Melissa glanced towards you. She had never seen you in such a fragile state. Sitting in your desk chair, in the dark, with so much fear in your eyes somebody might think your life was being threatened. “It’s a need to know basis kid, and you don’t need to know. Could I steal my friend for a minute?” Melissa asked, even though she was already taking your hand in hers and walking out the door with you.

She didn’t stop once she left your classroom either, not until she made it to the steps outside of the building. Melissa looked into your eyes for something, anything at this point. But you just sighed and looked away. “Please don’t yell at me, Mel,” you said quietly. You were ready for your friend to tear you apart for hiding your girlfriend and for letting her speak to you that way. “Yell at you? Honey…” Melissa said. She pulled you back close to her and wrapped her arms tightly around your body.

Quietly, you cried into her. You couldn’t help it, Melissa made you feel safe, and that wasn’t a luxury you could frequently afford. “She just…” You started, trying to explain everything to the woman who was trying to take care of you. “I can’t do it anymore Melissa. I’m sorry I never told you about her, or the fact I like women. It’s not that I didn’t want to, please don’t think that I just–” You stopped, lifting your head from Melissa’s shoulder to finally meet her gaze again. “I didn’t want you to see how small she makes me feel. I know I shouldn’t be with her, I just don’t know anything else. Not unless I’m with you but, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore,” you finally finished with a heavy sigh.

Melissa took a moment to respond, gently rubbing your back and taking a second to absorb everything you had just told her and everything she heard. “I know its easier said than done, but you and I both know you deserve better than that crazy ass bitch back in that classroom,” She gestured with her head to the door. You noticed the venom in her voice as she referred to your girlfriend once again, and if her eyes weren't the most beautiful shade of green, they would be red with anger. “I don’t know Mel…” you trailed off.

She scoffed, tightening her grip around your waist, and you tried your best to ignore the warmth growing in your chest. “Well I know. I know you should be with somebody who actually cares about you, who notices all the stupid cute habits you do all day and loves them, you deserve somebody who will give you that,” Melissa said honestly, more honest than she would have liked to be. You couldn't help the smile that formed on your face, touched by the woman’s words. “Maybe I’ll find them one day,” You said, starting to walk back inside with Melissa. “But I don’t think I’ll find anybody who loves me quite like you do Mel.” Melissa’s heart jumped at that. “I don’t think you will either, sweetheart.”

———

The weeks following that first incident were strange to say the least. The air between you and Melissa became tense, like both of you had something to say but just couldn’t. Or rather, wouldn’t. The few times Heather popped by again, Melissa would always leave without a word. No goodbye to you or the others, and you quickly learned that for whatever reason, she had a hard time coming back to life after seeing Heather. You blamed it on her protective nature, simple explanation.

It wasn't until Heather had actually stopped coming around that Melissa spoke of the girlfriend without being prompted. The two of you sat alone in her classroom, grading papers before the weekend. “So, are things going any better with…y’know? Haven't seen her around much,” Melissa said without looking up from her papers. “Actually, she moved out. Last weekend. I was going to tell you I just, needed time, I guess,” You answered, looking up at Melissa, trying to read her mind through her eyes.

At first, they lit up, before Melissa could pull herself back together. “Well its about time you kicked her sorry ass to the curb. Nobody treats cuore mia like that,” She said, watching in real time how you melted at her words. “I- What?” you giggled out of confusion. Melissa returned to her gaze to her papers and quietly said, “my heart.” Your cheeks grew hot and you found your breath quickening, both at Melissa calling you such a sweet name, and the Italian she spoke it in. It was this moment that the puzzle pieces started fitting together in your head. Why Melissa was so angry and upset with Heather, and why you always preferred Melissa’s company anyways. The two of you were practically in love.

“If you want to call me pet names, at least do it in English so I know what you’re saying,” You lied to her. You couldn’t have her speaking in Italian to you, but not because it bothered you. In fact it had quite the opposite effect. “What, you don’t like when I speak Italian? Besides, you’ll learn soon enough dolcezza mia,” Melissa cooed, leaning over the edge of her desk to get closer to your face. If you could, you would kiss her right then and there.

So you did. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you cupped Melissa’s cheek and pulled her lips onto yours. Both of you were surprised at the sudden move, but neither pulled away. It was gentle, Melissa stroked the back of your head as she pulled you into her as well. She ran her fingers through your hair and used her position to lightly pull you away from her. “I’m sorry.” You both said at the same time before giggling like children. “Why are you sorry?” Melissa asked. “For kissing you, without asking. Why are you sorry?” You simultaneously answered and questioned her. “For kissing you back, I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Melissa said quietly, suddenly deflating.

You took her hand in yours, gently rubbing her knuckles with your thumb. “Melissa, you’re a very intelligent woman, but you’re acting like an idiot,” You laughed as Melissa furrowed her brows at you. “I kissed you, Mel. I wanted to kiss you I want to kiss you all the time, I didn’t realize until after you started helping me with…you know who,” Both of you grimaced at the mention of your ex. “Everything she should’ve been making me feel, is how you make me feel every day. And I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that,” You told Melissa truthfully. The grip on your hand tightened as she took in your words. “God, come here you,” Melissa said as she smiled, and tugged on your hand for another kiss.

[thefrontofmymind]

Helping Hand (Matty Healy x Reader)

Requests:

hi! i just came across your blog and read both your matty works! if your requests are open could you write a friends to lovers with matty? maybe a confession with tension from not knowing the other’s feelings? –anon

Could you write a Matty Healy smut where he and the reader share an apartment as friends. Reader comes home pissed and Matty offers to ✨take care✨ of the reader for the night. Reader also has a praise kink – @kmsmedine

Prompt idea: “you know I can fuck you better, right?” With matty –anon

WARNINGS: piv unprotected smut, blowjob, a little bit of alcohol consumption (lmk if i missed anything)

The way you’d describe your life, in a word, would be bittersweet. You had your dream job, a great family, a gorgeous apartment, but there was one part that was missing, an important part–you lacked a connection, at least in a way that was satisfying.

You hated the idea that you were some kind of cliche–you had everything you ever wanted except a boyfriend, it sounded like some half-arsed romcom you’d find on DVD in some bargain bin at a Poundstretcher. Sure, you weren’t completely hopeless, you could get a shag if you felt so inclined, when you felt so inclined. But your heart was never in it. Because of one man, your closest friend in the whole universe–and roommate–Matty.

You’d spent years pining over him. From the moment you’d met him, you could feel your heart jump every time he’d look your way, and then crack and crumble when he’d look elsewhere. It wasn’t from lack of trying with him–the first year of your friendship you tried your damnedest to get him to notice you in the way you craved.

The nail in the coffin came with his first serious relationship–a lovely girl called Heather, or Hannah, or some name like that–you pushed the feelings to the very back of your mind as best you could, but they refused to stay quiet. You had many a crises over what to do. You loved Matty, more than a friend, and even more than a lover, he was your person and you couldn’t bear the thought of living without him, no matter how painful it would be to see him hold another’s hand, whisper in an ear that wasn’t your’s, see the way he smirk at other girls in clubs when they’d tell him what they wanted to do to him on the cab ride home–something you could never get the courage to do.

Though once you’d mourned the loss of what may have been, you realised what you did have, a man who knew you like the back of his own hand and would run to you the second he was beckoned, though just platonically.

Eventually you began to put yourself out there, started seeing other men–nothing serious ever came of any of them, but it was a distraction, nonetheless. You’d simply made your peace with the situation and resigned yourself to the fact that it would never change.

You figured you’d never get one of those looks from Matty that you’d seen made other girls’ knees wobble, and you’d certainly never get that close to him, and you’d simply have to make do with any distraction you could find, as hopelessly downcast it seemed..

It was late on Thursday night, very late. You weren’t home yet and it worried Matty–he knew you’d have left work almost an hour ago and you hadn’t let him know you were going anywhere afterwards–it was all very unlike you. 

He sat in your shared living room on the sofa, laptop in front of him as he fiddled around with some demos that George had sent him, though he was immediately pulled out of it when he heard the front door slam shut and saw you huff as you walked to your bedroom. He quickly got up and followed you, concerned.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist then?” He asked you as he was greeted with the sight of you sat down on your bed, taking off your boots and eyes that were full of tears–a horrible side affect of being left with your thoughts on the walk home.

“I’m not in the mood for a joke, Matty,” you sighed, not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He was truly worried. 

You took a second to collect your thoughts before you spoke. “Why is it that some guys just never learn, hey? Like they just do not care about the girls they’re fucking and don’t even try to give them attention?” Matty gave you a questioning look as he sat down next to you, seeing your wet eyes threatened to spill. “You remember that guy, Sam? The one I met at the work Christmas party last year?” Matty nodded. “Well, he asked me to go over to his after I got off work, and I went-uh-and he just doesn’t care.” You couldn’t stop the sob that came out as you finished your sentence. As if on instinct, Matty pulled you into his chest and let you cry, to which you had no protests. You had been building up for a while and it seemed you just couldn’t hold off the breaking point any longer.

“That’s so shit,” Matty said, holding you gently. “You deserve better than that.”

You sat in silence for a moment, you could smell the faint scent of weed and his regular cologne on Matty’s jumper.

You laughed. “Yeah, well it’s not like I really have any other prospects at the moment, so I’m just kinda stuck with Speedy Sam for now…”

Matty laughed with you for a second before his tone changed drastically. “C’mon, you’re a stunner! Surely you’ve got a lineup just waiting for ya?”

“No one else seems remotely interested…” You sighed. You knew it wasn’t productive to pity yourself the way you were, but you’d had a few glasses of wine at Sam’s so you couldn’t really help yourself.

“Well that’s just not true, now…” Matty muttered–under his breath but still loud enough that he knew you’d have heard it. You didn’t know how to answer him, you were simply gobsmacked–surely he didn’t mean what you thought he was hinting at? After all these years?

You tried to laugh it off, break the tension with some joke and asked Matty if there was any takeaway from the other night left in the fridge, but his face didn’t crack and he never broke eye contact, and that sobered you up really quick. 

It felt like the earth had stopped turning and time had stopped ticking–it was just you and Matty at a stalemate in your apartment. 

“Just something I thought about…” He mumbled as he got up and went back to the living room, leaving you wide-eyed and gobsmacked in your bedroom with a mind going a million miles a minute.

As if on autopilot, your legs carried you to the living room, standing right in front of Matty–who was ever-so unbothered and scrolling on his laptop. You didn’t quite know what to say, so you stood with wide eyes fixed right on him as you mulled over how you could ever respond in this situation.

“Can I help you?” He said, as if he didn’t drop a bomb on you merely a minute ago.

“You can’t just say that to me,” you said with a deadly serious tone that even took you by surprise.

Matty closed his laptop and stood up so you were eye-to eye. “I only said it because it was true.”

“Wha-” You couldn’t speak, all the air in your throat felt trapped, you couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening.

“You know I can fuck you better, right?” He said, without a microgram of hesitation nor taunting in voice, while his eyes stayed unwavering and staring into yours. “Better than that dickhead and any other guy you’ve been with since I’ve known you.”

You could barely stutter out an answer, you knew what you wanted to say–you had fantasies of a proposition like this from Matty for years, you’d resigned yourself that it would never happen and that was just something you had to make peace with. You needed to tell him, and now.

“Then prove it,” you said, a small waver in your tone, showing the sliver of trepidation.

Matty’s thumb lightly rubbed the side of your cheek, not breaking eye contact. “Can I kiss you?”

“I think you should,” you answered, feeling so much anxiety at this newfound revelation in your best friend and roommate.

His lips were ever-so soft against yours, giving you the chance to pull away, should you want to, but you didn’t. Without thinking, you grabbed the fabric of the collar of the hoodie he was wearing and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t quite process what was happening, your mind felt like mush as you lightly bit on his bottom lip, earning a stifled moan from Matty. You eventually had to break the kiss to get a proper breath in, as much as you wish you didn’t have to. You stayed close–nose-to-nose–as you caught your breaths.

“So your room or mine?” He asked.

You pulled him back to your mouth, this time with a bit more ferocity, and your hands quickly found their way to his hair as he grabbed at your waist. You both managed to stumble to your room–the closer one–without breaking the kiss. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be doing, and you were just glad it was finally happening, not just in your mind when you were alone and bored.

Matty quickly pulled away to take off his hoodie, while you rid yourself of the sweaty and dishevelled blouse you’d worn to work that day. Before you knew it, you’d gotten completely bare in front of him–you weren’t scared or worried or insecure, it was Matty, he knew you, so there was nothing for you to be afraid of, nor him.

He sat on your bed before you, you didn’t quite know how to proceed. You’d been through so many scenarios like this in your head, you were overwhelmed.

“C’mere, darling,” he said, holding out a hand to take yours and guiding you to straddle him–it all felt much more sincere and…intimate…than before–you finally realised this was real and it was happening. 

Matty locked his arms around your waist as you began to kiss down his neck and into the crook of his shoulder, eliciting a breathy moan from the top of his throat. His hands began to wander down your back and he took grip of your ass cheeks as he kissed you again.

Your hands soon found their way to his cock, slowly giving it a couple of strokes before you readjusted so you could press a warm kiss to its head. 

Matty’s head was spinning, never did he think he would ever have a chance with you, in the years of your friendship. He was simply too scared to say anything, and it got to a point that he’d come to the conclusion that he’d left that grace period of early-friendship confusion well in the past and there was nothing he could do about it, so he tried to move on–girlfriend after girlfriend, with as many pointless hook ups in between, but they all weren’t you. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him in the face for what he said; he’d had a couple glasses of wine and it went straight to his head, giving him the confidence to do what he truly wanted to in the first place.

Matty sunk into a sea of ecstasy as your lips closed around him and his cock inched further and further into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat.

“Oh darling,” he barely managed to stutter out between moans as he gently grabbed a handful of your hair and your tongue swirled around his tip. “Ple-please just let me fuck you.”

“I think you should.” You said as Your mouth was replaced by your hand and you looked at his face to answer him–his lips parted and eyes almost completely shut from pleasure. You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence you exuded came from, but you were sure glad it appeared when it did. 

Soon enough, you were once again straddling Matty’s lap, his cock rubbing against your entrance–you felt like your head was just about ready to explode from the anticipation.

“Are you ready, baby?” Matty whispered, leaving a trail of kisses from your ear to the crook of your shoulder. You couldn’t find the words to speak, so you let out a hum and a fervent nod, and that was enough for him.

You felt so full as each inch of him entered you, leaving you a moaning mess immediately. Matty was in a similar state, breathing deeply and trying to blink away the stars in his vision of you. You began to move, just a little, which made the pleasure increase tenfold–leaving you twitching and whining every time Matty hit your g-spot. He took hold of your hips, helping you bounce on his cock.

“So…so good…So good fo’ me…” he moaned, leaving you smiling to yourself.

As time went on, your legs began to grow tired, and Matty noticed as your movements slowed.

“Want me to be on top?” He asked in between feverish kisses wherever he could place them.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “M’legs are getting sore.”

After some readjustment, Matty was now hovering above you, while one of your legs wrapped around his hip to keep him close. His thrusts were slower than you were expecting–going as deep as he could get. One of his hands was holding himself up from next to your head, while the other found its way to your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on to the swollen bud.

It all just felt so comfortable, so natural–not at all like a first fuck, the two of you moved so in sync with each other, you’d think you’d been together for years with just how responsive you were to each other.

You felt your lungs get tighter as your breathing got shallower, and a tension began to grow between your thighs. You urged Matty to go faster, to which he obliged with a smirk that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

All at once, everything let go, and you were sent into orbit as you released–all the while moaning and whining which only spurred Matty on more, soon reaching his release as well before collapsing on top of you, fully spent.

The two of you laid there on your bed in silence for a little while, Matty’s softening cock still inside you. There was something so intimate about the whole situation, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his face as he caught his breath with a small grin on his face. You noticed freckles on his nose, faint lines around his eyes, things you’d never had the chance, nor the right before this, to see.

Eventually, Matty moved to face you before speaking. “That was…” He um’d and ah’d for a moment, trying to find the right words. “It was everything I’ve ever hoped it was.”

“Really?” You never thought of Matty hoping something would happen, and what it would be like.

“And more,” he added, kissing you again while you chuckled in the afterglow. You both began to drift into the lull of sleep in each other’s arms. “And I never want to hear about Speedy Sam again…”