#at the very least their Vibes seem familiar

[bumpscosity]

at the part where finn just got with flame princess and oh my godddd i don't care can they show more of tree trunks and pig macking on each other in increasingly populated public places instead

[coryndoll]

what would you do for love?

exboyfriend!rafe cameron x obsessed!exgirlfriend!reader

— in which y/n spirals into a possessive obsession over her ex-boyfriend rafe. she quietly pulls the strings from the shadows, creating accidents, bribing others, and doing whatever it takes to maintain control—believing she is the only one truly capable of loving him.

warnings: y/n acting like a subtle joe goldberg asf😭, drinking, smoking, y/n missing rafe

authors note: potential series??? THIS COULD BE ITS PROLOGUE. idk much about sofias background so i cant write out a full length “dive” on her like joe would in you, but ill do what i can!! im not abandoning “waking up to you” though, just trying to figure out ideas for how to play out the rest of the week ‘til the end LMFAOOO

if u are interested in being part of the tag list, please let me know through replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !! notifications are always on <33

next

you’re rummaging through your drawers, tossing clothes to the side in a desperate search for something that feels right. it’s one of those nights—some random party you’re not really excited for but can’t help going to because, well, everyone’s going. the young adults of the island, at least.

another night of sloppy, underage drinking, messy hookups, and pointless fights breaking out over nothing, the kind of chaos that seems to thrive in a place like this. you don’t even know whose party it is, but that hardly matters.

you’ve already pulled out a pile of tops, but none of them feel like the one. too tight, too loose, too boring, not the vibe. they’re scattered across your bed now as you dig deeper, hoping that the perfect top is somehow hiding at the very bottom. and that’s when your fingers brush against something familiar, soft yet slightly worn—his hoodie.

you freeze for a second, your hand gripping the fabric, and a wave of something bittersweet washes over you. you didn’t even remember it was still there, shoved in the farthest corner of the drawer like you were trying to forget about it. but now it’s right in front of you, and just holding it feels like opening an old wound.

it’s rafe’s hoodie. as in your ex-boyfriend’s hoodie. the one he never asked for after you broke up. it’s stupid, probably, keeping it like this, but a part of you always thought that meant something.

back then, you’d convinced yourself that him not asking for it back was a sign. like he was telling you, in some unspoken way, that it wasn’t really over. that he still wanted you to hold on, just for a little longer. you’d held onto that hope longer than you should’ve.

because now, things are different. you’ve seen him around the island, his arm draped around another girl, a pogue, of all people. the whole thing feels like a bad joke, doesn’t it? rafe cameron, the toxic kook from figure eight, running around with some girl from the cut.

you wonder what her deal is. maybe she’s living out some kind of romeo and juliet fantasy. is that it, rafe? is that what you’ve become—her tragic love story? maybe she’s the kind of girl who romanticizes the idea of being with someone she isn’t supposed to, thinking she’s special because she got him.

the thought makes you frown, a bitter taste rising in the back of your throat. she doesn’t even know him like you do. she doesn’t know the way his mind works, doesn’t know what he’s like when the charm fades, when he’s spiraling, when everything he tries to hold together starts to fall apart.

without thinking, you pull the hoodie closer, burying your face in it. his scent still lingers faintly in the fabric—his cologne. that familiar, warm smell that used to make you feel safe, even when things between you were anything but. it’s been a while since you broke up, but the cologne is still there, still clinging to the material like it’s holding on, just like you are.

you wonder if he still wears it. maybe he sprays it on for his new girl now. maybe she pulls his hoodies around herself the way you used to, breathing him in, thinking she’s the only one who gets to do that now. the thought actually makes your chest ache.

you blink a few times, your throat tight, and gently lower the hoodie back down to your lap. i miss you, you think, but the words never make it past your lips. they just hang there, heavy and silent, as you stare down at the hoodie, wishing things had ended differently.

eventually, you pull the drawer all the way open and spot a shirt hiding beneath where the hoodie had been—it’s perfect for tonight. you pick it up, placing it on the edge of the drawer, but your fingers linger on the hoodie for a moment longer. then, with a quiet sigh, you fold it back up, tucking it away into the corner of the drawer once more. out of sight but never really out of mind.

you shove everything else back in, trying to get rid of the clutter, both in your room and in your head. it’s just another party, another night to pretend everything’s fine. but the hoodie still sits there, waiting, like it always has.

you’re waiting as your friend pours you a drink, eyes drifting over the skatepark around you. the party is in full swing—some are crowded around ramps, a few on their boards showing off, others slouched on graffiti-covered benches, their laughter mixing with the pounding bass.

when your friend hands you the cup, you take it with a nod, cruising through the crowds as you chat. your gaze flicks from group to group—people are either dancing, downing drinks, or getting a little too close in the shadows. you’re only half-focused on the conversation as you weave between the bodies.

you end up hanging by a ramp, watching as a few people race to shotgun their drinks. it’s messy and ridiculous, the kind of thing you can’t help but get pulled into. someone challenges you, and before you know it, you’re joining in. you win—barely—but not without nearly choking yourself in the process, coughing and laughing at the same time. sure, you won, but at what cost? still, it’s funny enough to have you and your friends laughing about it after.

while your friends mess around, you drift away from the noise, leaning back against the railing near the top of the ramp. your phone dangles loosely in your hand, and you’re resting your head on one of your friend’s backs as they chatter on. you don’t really need to be involved in the conversation—it’s comfortable just being there.

you find yourself staring at your phone screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard as you type out a quick message: hey.

it’s to rafe. of course, it is. and you know it’s dumb, you know you shouldn’t send it, but for some reason, everything in you wants to. even though it won’t do anything, even though he’s probably not even thinking about you right now.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, hesitating for a beat longer before closing the app. you’re not gonna send it. you know you wouldn’t have anyway, you were just seeing if you’re drunk enough to go through with it. not this time. maybe another. maybe never. with a sigh, you turn your phone off and shove it into your pocket, trying to push the thought away.

but just then, there’s a commotion at the edge of the park, some people turning to look. a new car’s pulled up, headlights cutting through the dark, and as the doors open, your stomach drops.

yeah, of course, it’s him. rafe steps out, and your eyes lock onto him immediately. he’s got his girl by his side, and the sight alone makes you want to tilt your head back and groan. but instead, you just watch, waiting, seeing what they’ll do.

rafe moves through the crowd easily, that infamous smile on his face, flashing it at anyone who bothers to look. he looks . . . happy, which is great for him, really. it’s nice, or whatever. but as your gaze follows him, watching the way he’s moving with her, there’s a part of you that’s almost relieved. because no matter how content he looks, he doesn’t look happier. not happier than he did when he was with you. and somehow, that’s enough.

“don’t look now,” one of your girl friends mutters as she approaches, her voice low and careful. her back is to the rest of the party, which includes rafe and sofia, not that they’d even glance your way.

“you’re too late,” you say, leaning back against the railing, gripping it with a small smile. normally, you’d be dropping dead right about now, but if you did that, your friend would worry. and really, you’re not bothered. or at least, not too bothered.

“they look good together,” you add casually, waving a hand toward the crowd where rafe and sofia stand. you’re trying to sell it, trying to convince your friend that this is all good with you.

your friend gives you a skeptical look, her brow raised, and you nod, like you’re insisting she believe you. “i’m serious,” you tell her. “they’re perfect for each other.”

she rolls her eyes and glances over her shoulder to check them out herself, hand on her hip as she grimaces. “yeah, she’s perfect if he’s into . . .” she trails off, eyeing sofia's outfit—one of those looks where it’s obvious rafe bought the clothes for her, but none of it quite fits her style. “knock-off country club chic?”

it’s not that funny, but the resemblance is a little accurate. “stop,” you murmur, nudging her. you can’t help the faint smile that pulls at the corner of your lips as you lift your cup, pretending to hide it by taking a sip.

your friend's not wrong, and she catches the smirk you’re trying to hide. “told you,” she teases, a grin spreading across her face as you take the joint from her hand.

inhaling deeply, you let the smoke linger in your lungs before you exhale it in a slow, straight line. as the haze clears, your eyes fix on rafe and sofia, standing together in the middle of the skatepark. your face softens, the humor from earlier fading like something inside you has switched off. no more laughing, no more games.

just them.

just her.

you take sofia in for what she is—pretty. sure, you can give her that. you understand why rafe might’ve been drawn to her at first. she’s the kind of girl who stays close to him, like she’s tethered, like she can’t stand alone unless rafe has to excuse himself. and when he leaves, she fades into the background. disappears.

you watch her now, standing awkwardly off to the side while rafe talks to someone, looking small, unimportant. oh. interesting.

she must like attention. no, not attention, rafe’s attention. she clings to it like it’s the only thing that makes her visible. and yeah, she’s done up nice—dressed in new clothes, no doubt bought with rafe’s money. she cleans up well for a pogue.

but there’s something about the way she fidgets, like her skin doesn’t quite fit right in the fabric. you can tell she’s not used to it, this life. it’s too big for her. she’s nervous, uncomfortable, trying to blend in with the kind of people who were born into this world.

and her smile. you can see it from here, that ‘just to be kind’ smile. practiced, polite. probably something her parents taught her. good for her, really. that’s good.

she works at the pelican yacht club, doesn’t she? you live right by it. the idea that she works so close to your home, that rafe goes by your house just to see her . . . it makes your stomach twist.

she’s short, shorter than most. short hair, short bangs, and so this relationship will be short too.

just a phase. it has to be. or you’ll make it.

whatever it takes.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 2

Please read Part 1 first! G/N. 4.6k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

As far as first impressions go, yours went terribly. Gun can count on no hands the amount of people that have spoken to him like you did and lived to tell the tale.

Make no mistake, the sum total of which is zero. Zero spoke to him like that and lived to tell the tale.

It's like you have no manners and absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

But, he figures, he's finally doing his GED after the whole murderous stint and juvie and light dabbling in gang wars. Maiming a fellow classmate on the first day would leave an even worse first impression with the rest of the class than yours with him, therefore he should really try to behave himself.

Besides, he would never hear the end of it from Goo if he dropped out, or worse got kicked out, so he picked his battles and took your insults as best he could. 

Somehow miraculously managed to hold back from reaching across the screen to give you a well deserved ass whooping when you asked him if he was on the verge of a mid-life crisis. He schooled his face and took a drag of his cigarette instead.

At least, if nothing else, you're entertaining.

You also reminded him that small talk was a thing when you asked what he liked to do for fun. He couldn't remember the last time anyone asked, if anyone even did, although you don't really make this sort of conversation in his line of work and it is hard for Gun to find time to make chit chat with someone as he's usually the one brutally assaulting them in a fight.

And he had such good intentions with enrolling in school again so why not tell you he likes gaming. 

That's a perfectly Normal hobby, right? 

Even as he says those words, they stick in his throat like he's confessing something shameful and it comes out strangled and strange.

He moves on to more familiar territory by reframing his bloodlust as training and martial arts, which also sounds very Normal to Gun's ears.

A few more things that he can barely remember are mentioned to present himself as a very Normal individual and he isn't embarrassed to admit to himself he's pleased with how this has gone.

After all, the majority of his working day is spent with Goo and Goo is, to put it politely, an unhinged dipshit, and their conversations usually also have that kind of vibe. Gun is aware enough to watch his tongue in this conversation with you, and the fact you haven't looked terrified or called the police can only work in his favour.

What piqued his curiosity most of all though, is your threat to kick his ass.

(On Tekken, but still.)

So much confidence in your own ability, so much faith in your skills.

(On Tekken, but still.)

Alas, that night he finds out it's misplaced and you have severely overestimated himself and/or underestimated him.

But still. 

He remains curious about you.

You show absolutely no fear, no ulterior motive, no nothing, in the way you speak to him and seem to have latched on to him rather than anyone else in the class, and Gun is... 

Charmed.

He finds you oddly endearing.

Then when he sees the back of your head as he makes his way into the classroom for the first time and decides to sit next to you, the way you blatantly check him out doesn't hurt either.

People ogling Gun isn't anything new, but what is new is how much he likes it from you.

He makes up his mind to keep his seat next to you. Even if your gaze does linger a moment too long on his hair and makes him wonder if he used enough gel on it when he styled it that morning.

And although you caught him doodling and insult his masterpieces repeatedly - you also balanced it out by helping him with Literature, which truth be told, he is extremely grateful for. He forgives your missteps and your teasing.

Over time, Gun finds that he likes your company. Traits that would be annoying as shit with other people he finds sweet with you, including your unrefined taste in coffee.

As a bonus, you also don't balk at the tidbits of his life he shares. In fact it should really be a little troubling how grey your morals are, how easily you take it in stride for someone that seems like a normal well-adjusted(ish) civilian.

All in all, this never happens. Ever.

Never has anyone held his attention like you do, and for him to test the waters like he has done.

Gun likes to think he has good judgement, takes very calculated risks. This, he decides, is worth pursuing. Exploring.

With not so much a leap of faith but maybe just a tiny hop, Gun opens up his home to you.

.

.

.

.

You think you're in love with Gun Park.

This realisation hits you at 5am, when you're lying in his bed and he has done the gentlemanly thing of taking the sofa. It hits you because only a few hours ago, he had pulled you into his lap, looked at you and held you so tenderly then didn't kiss you.

The fact that he hadn't kissed you, and you're in love with a very questionable person sends you into a mental crisis.

Fuck.

He's secretive enough, letting you in on various elements of his life and you manage to piece together that he can only be up to no good.

There's no shades of grey in his life, only copious amounts of crimson from bloodshed, and a twisted sense of morals and principles he lives by.

You know by now he hangs around far too much with someone called Goo, who sounds like the personification of a headache and annoys him to no end but also seems to be the only friend he has. Speaks too highly of a Charles that you know is shady despite never having met the guy. There's also an Eli that he mentions like he's the one that got away.

You can live with all of that and the questionable amount of hair product he uses.

What you are in fact struggling to get to grips with is:

This man lives in a junkyard. Like some kind of violent, sexy raccoon.

A voice in your head that sounds scarily like your mother, lectures you about prospects and picking a man with no future.

Well, for one - he's back in school.

See mom, you're wrong.

He also seems to do very well for himself despite literally living amongst trash (you handwave away his blood money and unscrupulous methods to earn said money) so that's another point for Gun.

And what sort of person, who lives between piles of scrap metal and discarded appliances, has such a luxurious bed.

You're sure the bedding thread count is in the thousands. Instead of researching the cure to cancer or how to travel faster than light, scientists have researched the comfiest mattress known to man and has created this that you're currently lying on.

So maybe this violent sexy raccoon is actually a prize.

Regardless.

You seem to have hitched yourself quite willingly to this wagon and now your biggest issue, that leaves you tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning, is still-

Why the fuck didn't he kiss you.

And how could he, after sharing such a sweet moment, push you off his lap and kick your ass on Tekken for 5 straight rounds.

What a bastard.

.

.

At some point you must have drifted off to sleep and you awake to the smell of deliciousness.

Something is being fried and you melt thinking your raccoon king is cooking breakfast for you. Who knew he was this sweet and thoughtful.

What is even better though, somewhat masked by the sizzling, is if you listen hard enough, you think Gun might even be humming. Even the perfect bed can't keep you from pressing your ear up against the bedroom door when you connect the dots that he is humming a popular K-Pop song that you have listened to on loop 50 times the week prior.

You yank open the door with force, "A-ha!" and point in his direction, gleeful at catching him doing something so un-Gun like.

Gun, in the middle of plating 2 omelettes, whips his head to you and stills, looking like a deer caught in headlights or a raccoon caught in headlights, rather.

You ask him, with a shit eating grin,  if he's a big fan of the K-Pop group but it drops at his lack of reaction when he just shrugs and responds simply with a yes.

Damnit.

Of course you know it's not really anything to be ashamed of but it's so unexpected from Gun, that would it kill him to blush a little or act a little abashed? You expected something at least a little entertaining from his initial surprise, but you suppose anyone would act like that if a deranged house guest accosted them first thing in the morning after they so kindly made breakfast too.

As a consolation, after the let-down, you double take when you realise Gun had been cooking topless and remains topless this entire time.

In all his muscled glory. Pecs and abs and everything. Delicious broad shoulders and an enticing light trail of hair from below his belly button and stretching down, down, down into his sweatpants.

You gulp, trying to calm yourself down. You know you are staring so so obviously but you can't find it in yourself to look away.

Gun clears his throat as if to say my eyes are up here, and hands you a plate.

.

.

While you still have self control and before you outstay your welcome, you say bye to Gun after breakfast mentioning you have some errands to run.

It's a poor excuse but you didn't taste a bite of that omelette, brain too fixated on the man seated opposite and wondering if what he's hiding in his trousers matches the energy he gives off.

He offers to take you home and you insist on walking by yourself. You reason to yourself the fresh air after such a heady night and all the over excitement from this morning would do you good.

You say your goodbyes at his door, him leaning against the doorway, still unbearably tantalisingly shirtless and enough to distract you from the junkyard setting, with his arms folded and a smirk on his face as you stand there-

Standing and waiting and expecting.

You're pretty sure Gun wants to kiss you. There's a challenge in his eyes and you know he is teasing you.

The fact that you stared at him before like a slack-jawed moron also indicates full well what you would like him to do.

A goodbye kiss isn't too much to ask for (not that you're going to ask) but he continues to also lean and wait and smirk shirtlessly and god, this is the most awful hair-pulling frustrating game of chicken you have played.

For a moment you consider yanking him down and kissing him, hard and desperate, and making your way back inside to the most comfortable bed that has ever existed. For an even briefer moment you consider biting his pec and leaving a ring of teeth marks.

In the end, you can only muster "bye then," and to your dismay, your voice comes out whiny.

There's no hiding your disappointment.

Gun’s smirk grows wider at your tone and he relents and gives a peace offering in the form of a kiss on your cheek.

He pulls you into his body, arm wrapped around your waist and he dips down, grazes his lips featherlight to your cheek.

It's chaste. Impossibly tender and surprisingly sweet.

Damn.

You forget how to breathe and you feel like you're on fire as he murmurs bye into your ear. Later, you'll chastise yourself for letting Gun affect you like this with something so innocent.

You untangle from him and feel your legs wobble when you step off the porch and make your way back home.

Gun chuckles but you don't hear it.

You don't form a coherent thought again until that evening, when Gun beats you on Tekken and in a fit of rage and frustration, you finally break your controller.

.

.

To make things fair, Gun’s dislike of Literature is offset by how knowledgeable he is with Biology.

The human body, to be precise, and alarmingly so. Maybe serial killer levels of knowledge, with how much he knows about organs and muscles and tissues and everything in between.

He explains that it's useful for training, as if that's any explanation at all for his extensive knowledge. However, you've seen his body and heard enough about his past and yes, including his actual training, to realise that it does make sense in a way and you let it go.

Well.

Maybe you would have fought it a bit harder if you yourself was any good with biology but you're not. If he's great at it because he's a serial killer, then fortune favours the bold and you might as well take advantage of it.

Gun is a very very good teacher, which you did not predict and in a way you didn't expect.

His jaw is tense and the grip on the textbook tightens after you get the answer wrong for the 15th time and when you think he's about to whack you with said textbook, he closes his eyes and counts to ten.

When he opens them again, he tries another method with you. Then another. And another.

Truly, you did not think he had this sort of tolerance or patience.

He explains things simply and calmly (though you've noticed he has started to grit out his words). Unfortunately you still find all this theory hard to wrap your head around.

"Are you going to hit me?" You ask.

"Yes," Gun says though he doesn't. He looks more like he's going to ram his head through a wall. Neither happens and he continues to work through the textbook with you.

Hours later, it clicks.

You feel something of a genius even if Gun’s hair resembles a bird nest from the amount of time he has ran his fingers through in exasperation.

.

.

After finding out that you broke your controller, Gun buys you a new one immediately.

He's very generous and kind, you think, and it may be the first time in existence anyone has considered Gun as kind. 

Until you realise he has other reasons for doing so.

That night, and for several nights after too, Gun is merciless when he KOs you. Each match is shorter than the previous.

You register this is payback for the biology stint. It's got to be.

.

.

Nevertheless, because you're the bigger person and you take the defeats on the chin, as thanks and in an almost mirror image of Gun repaying your Literature help, you suggest taking him out for a coffee.

Getting a coffee to-go and hand delivering it would be much easier, but you can't bring yourself to order an espresso for someone even if it is their drink of choice.

You take him to one of your favourite coffeehouses. Somewhere much less lavish than the one he frequents and much more agreeable to your meagre pockets although the coffee is just as good.

"Two espressos," Gun says at the counter.

"One," you cut in firmly, holding yourself back from gagging. If you have to pay for it, you won't be drinking that bitter sludge. You rattle off your usual: a monstrosity made with double-digit syrup pumps and whipped cream and Gun flinches in your periphery.

Despite your insistence, he beats you to the punch and pays for the order anyway. Not before adding a jab that your coffee, if you can even call it a coffee, is the worst thing he has ever had the misfortune to spend money on.

"Try it," you offer, when your drink is in your hand and Gun watches every sip with mounting horror.

"No," His mouth is pressed into a thin line and he looks like he has half a mind to knock the cup out of your hand. He refrains, clenches his knuckles and rests them on his knee.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

You watch him, heartily enjoying your sugary drink and sucking noisily on the straw. He twitches and starts counting from one again. You feel a surge of affection.

.

.

Without any other plans, both of you amble together through the quiet streets. You window-shop as Gun smokes next to you and attempts to buy everything that you set your eye on.

You tell him thanks but no thanks and continue to look at pretty trinkets and funky decor. In the glass reflection, you notice Gun fondly looking at you.

"Hi," you smile, turning towards him. He looks more handsome than ever in the sunlight. You don't even mind the amount of gel in his hair.

"Hey," he says, low and hushed. He steps towards you, leaving only a hairbreadth of air in between and tips your chin up to face him with his fingers.

You notice his pupils are blown wide, flickering down to your lips. Gun dips down at the same time you press up onto your tiptoes, and you feel his chest against yours, his other arm winding around your waist, breath fanning over your skin-

This is it, you think, finally.

This, sadly, is not it.

"GUN!" you hear a voice screeching. You both tear your attention from each other to the shrill noise.

A blonde guy in the loudest suit you have ever cast your eyes upon is waving manically in your direction.

"Do you know him?" you ask and Gun's lips are thinner than you have ever seen.

"No."

"GUN!"  The blonde yells again and you raise an eyebrow at your companion.

His face looks pained as he tells you that is Goo Kim and when you ask if you both should go over and say hi, he snaps back absolutely not with a frown.

"Let's go," he says, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you in the opposite direction. Behind you, you hear cackling and Gun hastens his footsteps as if being chased by a deranged spirit.

You don't see the blonde again for the rest of the day although Gun’s phone seems to be going off every other minute. 

The moment you had is never quite recaptured. You can't bring yourself to mind too much though, as Gun never lets go of your hand.

And everytime he catches you smiling at your hand in his, he gives you a light squeeze and returns the smile.

.

.

If you thought school would be all cutesy and you would take turns in helping each other with topics you're stuck on, you're wrong.

Turns out, both you and Gun are equally bad at math.

You watch, face blank, at your screen as the teacher explains algebra. At least, you think that’s what the jumble of numbers and letters are because your ears refuse to make sense of the words.

You search the monitor for Gun to see how well he is faring and find him staring dead-eyed.

Not very, then.

In class, you see Gun's textbook with some attempt at notes in the margin before devolving into his lewd stick men doodles that he still insists are fighting stances.

"You shouldn't cover your page in smut. No wonder you're bad at this." You tease.

He doesn't look at you, doesn't rise to the bait. Simply rebukes, "Your book is blank and you're still shit."

"Asshole," you hiss and his dead eyed stare is replaced with a smirk.

.

.

As it happens, Gun can be very convincing when he wants to be.

A fellow student trails behind Gun in the library, and offers to help you and him out with your lack of mathematical comprehension.

You ignore that the student seems absolutely terrified and keeps giving fearful glances to Gun as he peers at them menacingly.

So what if the convincing involves some light threats of bodily harm or whatever Gun has so charmingly offered if that means you will pass. Didn’t you already establish that you have questionable morals? You’re too set in your ways and there's no point fighting it now.

Neither of you get any further after a few hours, and it doesn't help that the student gets more and more nervous each time you and Gun get a question wrong.

Explanations devolve into stammering and barely strung together sentences as if their life depends on you both understanding basic algebra.

They let out a petrified squeak when Gun snaps his fifth pen in half, noticing he has no more pens and may very well come for their neck.

Maybe he will.

"Leave." Gun commands, pinching his nose bridge when he realises this is futile and the student scarpers off.

"I hate this," You say, dejected, and you watch Gun close his eyes and quietly count to ten.

.

.

As it happens, Gun can be very resourceful too when he wants to be.

The following week, the teacher trails behind Gun to the library and offers to help you both out.

He seems equally afraid, eyes flickering over to Gun, and you choose not to focus on that, instead smiling brightly at his kindness.

The teacher, gripping the textbook white knuckled, breathes a sigh of relief hours later when both you and Gun start to answer the questions correctly and with accurate workings too.

In your mind, you have both learnt something and he has avoided an ass kicking so you're all winners here.

Nevermind the fact that Gun would have been the one handing out the ass kicking. There's no need to focus on such details.

.

.

From this distance, you find a figure chain smoking again. You’re now so familiar with his body language, with his mannerisms, that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s Gun and clearly there’s also something playing on his mind.

He sucks a cigarette down to the filter and lights up another one immediately after.

You worry about the poor state of his lungs and if he looks like this when he’s only 20, then mid-life will actually hit him hard. His body must be running on fumes. He really should cut down on the cigarettes and the caffeine and get a better night's sleep instead of staying up all night gaming. 

Not that you’re one to talk.

Perhaps it’s due to how he’s on alert for your presence like you are to him, his eyes snap to yours the moment you start to make your way over.

“You ok?” you ask and he gives you a funny look. It’s the same look whenever you express interest in his well being, or any general interest in him at all, and you think poor guy.

“Fine,” he responds, finishing off another cigarette and flicking it onto the floor.

And another thing, he really shouldn’t litter.

You don’t hesitate to tell him so, and as your tongue unravels, you start to also mention the smoking and his health and how you’re worried about him. Yes he clearly works out but all the cigarettes and lack of sleep will take a toll on him eventually.

Gun’s eyebrows climb into his hairline at your words. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you notice that what was supposed to come across as caring is very much coming across as a lecture though you can’t seem to stop.

As you begin to mention the obscene amount of gel he wears in his hair, his expression turns from bemused to sour and he cuts you off.

“You can nag me at mine over Tekken.”

“I’m not nagging-” you start, and then you abruptly stop as your brain kicks into gear and it sinks in that he has invited you over to his again.

Oh right. His.

The junkyard. 

At some point, you’ve forgotten that you’re in love with the King of Raccoons. That this guy willingly lives in a shack in the middle of, what you can only politely describe as, garbage, and you wonder how your life has come to this.

Gun is patient as he waits for your answer and his eyes are warm. It doesn’t sway you though. You want to counter with No. Why don’t you come to mine then you remember his beautiful bed. Yes you’re getting ahead of yourself but if there’s a chance you get to experience it again, sure. You will come to his raccoon den.

You agree and he gives you the softest smile you have ever seen.

.

.

“Shit,” you say, crestfallen and hanging limply.

“Shouldn’t you be used to losing by now?” comes Gun’s voice and you want to bounce the controller off his head.

“Shut up.”

“Your combinations are weak and poorly timed. You don’t understand how to use your characters or their advantages and you have no idea how to counter my moves.”

As the killing blow to your ego and pride, he adds, "You won that time because I let you."

A part of you already knew that yet you still stare at him agape at his audacity. Sitting, manspreading, on his armchair while he casually assassinates your skills.

“I’m not wrong.” He says with a smirk.

“Shut up,” you repeat, standing up.

“I can train you.”

“Shut up,” you stalk over to him.

“Or what?” He sits back to look up at you as you hover over him. Chin lifted defiantly and his eyes daring.

“This,” you snap, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him towards you. You’re sick of losing and you’re sick of waiting. 

You clash your lips together and feel Gun exhale sharply in surprise at your actions. He tenses, for a split second, before he tugs you into his lap and your legs straddle his thighs. His hand reaches under your top, sliding their way across your skin as you grind down. 

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling away, lips glossy and gazing at you half-lidded. 

He leans back to look at you properly, removing his hand as you subconsciously chase his touch, then with gentle hands, he cups your face and grazes his thumb over your cheek.

The TV screen illuminates his features, light reflecting in his eyes and you find something you only saw an inkling of during that first night, but has grown strong and steady since.

Gun looks at you like he did then -  soft, like you might break. Holds you the same way he had done - tender and precious. 

Only this time, there’s a steeled resolve in his face as he presses your bodies together, capturing your lips against his once more and you melt into his embrace. He’s much more gentle than you were but there’s a hunger and quiet desperation as his tongue swipes over your lips and slips in your mouth.

Your fingers run through his hair, and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it soft. All this time there wasn’t too much gel at all.

.

.

Gun wakes up the next morning with you drooling into his collar bone.

You wake up after the best night sleep of your life - wrapped in Gun’s arms and in the most comfortable bed known to man.

[madridfangirl]

I'm taking you home NOW!

(Jude Bellingham one-shot)

Summary: Jude sees his girlfriend at a club, tries to control himself as he watches her have the time of her life, but ultimately decides to take the matter in his own hands.

Inspired from an anon request.

Impromptu plans with the team was not a frequent occurrence for Jude. Their schedules just didn’t allow that.

So when the training was cancelled for the next morning and the team was wrapping up from Courtois’ documentary release event, a smaller (younger) group decided to extend the festivities of the night. 

That’s how they ended up in the private section of a high-end club in Madrid. It had a separate entrance, separate kitchen and a whole separate floor for the more ‘esteemed’ guests. With a tinted glass wall separating them from the section below. The glass was see-through from their side - they could enjoy the atmosphere outside but still be hidden from outside view, keeping their privacy intact. 

They had arrived late and the place was already buzzing. Music at high-decibels, along with the energy and vibe. 

As they waited for their large table to be set up, Jude looked through the glass at the upbeat scenes on the dance floor. The place was fairly crowded, yet no one seemed to mind. The DJ was top-notch, pausing the music in the middle to get people to sing along. Rallying them into stadium-like Mexican-waves. Taking their requests. Getting them to dedicate songs to each other. The mood was lit AF.

Just when he was about to turn around to find a seat, his eyes landed on a red dress. A very familiar fitted red dress. On a very familiar body.

The girl had his back to him, leaning over the counter to get the attention of the fit bartender amidst all the noise and crowd.

Once he noticed her, the bartender leaned even closer, trying to make out the drink she was asking for. That went on for a good while, and he finally grinned at her, pulling out the tequila glasses.

Jude was frozen in his spot. He didn’t need her to turn around to know that it was his girlfriend that the bartender was entertaining. That back, those curves, that hair, that ass, those legs - he could pick her out of a line-up in his sleep. And that dress. He had bought that fucking body-hugging dress for her. Something he hadn’t seen her in yet. Until now. 

He was too occupied to hear his teammates calling him from behind. Ultimately, Cama had to come over & smack his arm to get his attention. Before he could follow Jude’s line of sight, the boy recovered quickly, an impeccable smile donning his face. Most of the seats were already taken up. Jude had to find one with a clear view of the floor. So he had to manoeuvre (practically manhandle) Fran away from a corner seat, plopping next to Brahim. A confused looking Fran walking away to find another spot. 

What the fuck was she still doing at the counter? How long does it take to pour a fucking tequila shot? How was this guy a professional?

Maybe he’s taking it slow on purpose.

The bastard.

He craned his neck to get a better view. The guy was holding out salt & lemon in front of her, as she downed her shot. Smiling widely when she appeared to thank him. Jude nearly puked at the sight.

He felt a smack on his arm again, turning around to see Brahim waving the drinks menu in his face.

‘Whatever you’re having.’

He quickly dismissed the interruption & turned around, but she was gone. And the bartender was gone.

Before his mind could run wild, he thankfully placed her making her way through the crowd to the rest of her group, falling happily into her roommate’s arms as she lost her balance. Roma steadied her, and the girls giggled along like maniacs.

Yeah, she was drunk. Pissed drunk. And Jude knew how silly & carefree she got when she was so out of it. But at least she was with Roma, and a couple of other girls Jude could recognise from her pics. Looked like a fun girls night.

They had missed quite a few because work had been super hectic. Even this morning she was certain it would be a long night in office. But looked like something opened up for them as well. 

Good for her. She deserved to let her hair down once in a while. And paint the town red.

If only she could do that with him.

Once his profile shot through the roof since the world cup, and especially since the swashbuckling move to Madrid, Jude had been craving the everyday things he used to be able to do earlier. Like chilling at public places - clubs, cafes, amusement parks - without causing a stampede.

And since she had come into his life, the craving to go out & do regular couple stuff had intensified manifolds. But they had kept their relationship private, wanting to avoid the madness that would come from people getting to know. He couldn’t even take her out for a nice meal - some camera somewhere was always catching him. People constantly filming on their phones, even in the private sections sometimes.

Watching her live freely right now made his heart full - like he was living vicariously through her.

But it also made him ache - wanting to join her & be a normal 20 year old boy. To put his arms around her in a way that leaves no doubt that she was taken. If only he could have that once, just once.

The need to have her dance like that with him, swaying her hips against his body, was physically painful. Not that he was much of a dancer but he knew she’d make it work. Maybe he could throw a small party at his house, invite a few teammates who didn’t have a loose mouth and could keep a secret. And who had girlfriends / partners. Brahim & Fede could be good options. Yeah - he’d try to convince her. They could all dress up & have some fun together. Like regular young couples.

While his mind concocted all these wishful plans, he subconsciously downed every drink Brahim put in front of him. On to his fourth one now. In less than 15 mins.

‘You may wanna slow down, buddy.’

No response.

‘Jude.’

No response.

Jude had not turned his face fully, to not draw attention, but his eyes were still focused on her through his peripheral vision. He had been casually turning around and nodding in the middle to appear interested, but mentally he wasn’t present.

‘Boss might drop you in the next game. For Ceballos.’

Still no response.

Brahim laughed & elbowed him in the ribs.

‘Owww what the fuck?’

‘Who is she & where is she?’

‘What? I don’t understand.’

‘Yeah, cut the crap. Someone has clearly caught your attention. Now who’s the one?’

Brahim rose from his seat to try to look behind Jude’s frame but Jude caught him & pulled him down. Others looked at them curiously but Jude just laughed it off, saying he was drunk. They bought it; they were drunk too.

But not Brahim. He was a tanker.

‘Don’t.’

Jude gritted out slowly. 

‘Oh boy - you know her from before don’t you?’

Who the fuck made him this smart in such matters? He wished one of the other boys were there instead - they would have laughed it off with ‘I bet she’s hot’ or something. 

But not Brahim. He caught on. He observed as Jude shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to make a decision. It was like watching a golden retriever attempting to do trigonometry. 

Brahim laughed. Jude narrowed his eyes at him. The group called for another round of shots, still oblivious.

‘What’s funny?’

‘Your pathetic cover up.’

‘Oh shut up.’

Jude gulped his 5th drink - he wasn’t even sure which mix it was.

‘I…it’s complicated, mate.’

Brahim’s face softened. 

‘Hey, it’s fine. Don’t need to say anything. Let’s talk when you are ready.’

Jude wanted to. Talking to someone on the team would really help. They were the only ones who would get it. Maybe he could get some useful advice on how to handle the public aspect of the relationship. Brahim was just the guy for it.

But, not now. His mind was too scattered with her thoughts now to have this deep conversation.

‘Thanks.’

Brahim smiled & nodded softly.

‘Must be a special lady.’

Jude smiled back. 

‘But seriously, get a hold of yourself if you don’t want others to notice.’

The boys grinned at each other.

Jude turned to admire his special lady once more, who was waving to the music happily. A big smile on her face. Making her look all the more beautiful. The red looked gorgeous on her - the dress, the heels, the ruby lips. 

He couldn’t wait for the night to be over so he could take her home. 

With that thought, he let her be. And went back to his mates. For real this time.

Next 30 mins passed peacefully. 

And then, the DJ decided to screw with Jude. By playing salsa tracks. A romantic dance. A partner dance.

The floor cleared quickly and only the couples remained, dancing to the fast tunes in a close embrace. And, just as his luck would have it, he saw his girlfriend emerge on the floor with Roma, both giggling uncontrollably.

The girls held each other close, and started dancing like the other couples, taking turns on leading their partner.

Jude could’t take his eyes off Ananya. His breath hitched when he saw her spinning & shimmying & dipping in that atrociously tight dress, which kept inching up her thighs with her highly paced moves. She didn’t even notice. But he did. And he knew other guys around her would notice too.

If only he could build a shield around her. A barrier which no one could see past. 

If only he could hold her tight and be the person she was dancing so sensually with. Separating her from the crowd, their wandering eyes and sweaty bodies.

Unaware of how she was torturing her boyfriend, Ananya kept dancing like her life depended on it.   Swaying in sync with the beats, drawing attention to her firm round butt. 

Jude looked down at his pants, as if willing his body to behave. And counted back from 100 to 1 to not do something stupid. Like walking over to her right now.

She’d probably murder him, but at least this torture would end.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the music moved to lifts. The couples followed the beats, and the men lifted their partners off the ground in a variety of moves.

The girls obviously couldn’t do that. And Jude breathed a sigh of relief. But it was too soon.

An ugly, disgusting asshole approached Ananya, offering his sweaty, small hand to be her partner. She obviously refused, like Jude knew she would. But that split second was enough for Jude to lose his shit.

The longer that pig stayed around her, not getting the clear no, the harder Jude gripped his glass. Brahim covered for his friend, knowing he was out of it right now. 

The girls smartly decided to move to their table. Where their bags were. And Jude took the opportunity to dial her immediately. 

He saw her pull out her phone and smile adorably when she saw it was him calling. Both moved away from their tables, making excuses, finding a corner in their respective sections. His eyes still firmly following her.

‘Heyy babyy.’

She slurred on the line, while blowing kisses through the phone. Jude was unmoved.

‘A bra would have been nice with this dress.’

It hit her like a bucket of cold water.

‘Erm….what?’

She looked around rapidly, the movement making her head spin.

‘Especially if you intended to dance like that.’

She didn’t know if this was real or if she was hallucinating.

‘How did…where are you?’

‘Look up - straight ahead.’

She did. It looked like plain glass but she could make out enough lights beyond it to figure that it was a section divider. 

Ofcourse. 

How long was he watching her? What was that tone?

And why was it making her nervous? She was just minding her own business. Having fun. What’s wrong with that?

‘Meet me outside in 2 minutes. Ask for the back door.’

‘What?’

‘We are going home right now, Ananya.’

She was crazy about him. But that boy could be so pigheaded at times. 

‘No.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. Not calling it a night yet.’

‘Oh yes you are.’

She loved his domineering attitude in bed, but not so much in day to day life. 

‘Jude - I barely get time with my friends.’

‘You work with them. You are with them all day. But your nights are mine.’

Despite being mad, that sent a shiver down her spine. Darn that bastard.

But no - she’ll hold her ground here. She won’t give in. He needed to learn that he can’t always get his way. And he most certainly can’t boss her around.

‘Look - I’m gonna need 2 hours, yeah? How about I come to yours after?’

‘How about I come down, throw you over my shoulder & take you with me?’

She should be mad. She should be raving mad. But her skin started to heat at his words. Her treacherous body refusing to comply with the commands of her brain. 

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

She whispered, hating how small her voice sounded.

‘Try me.’

His was cocky and confident, as always. That made her recover quickly.

‘Do that - and you can forget about taking me home. Not tonight. Not any night.’

Heavy breathing at both ends. Jude changed tact, not one to accept defeat.

‘I sat here watching you, wanting you, waiting for you. Paid no heed to my friends. And you’re picking yours OVER ME?’

He made it sound like the worst tragedy in the world. Like she had wronged him in a thousand different ways. She saw right through the attempted manipulative wordplay. It may have worked with his other admirers, not with her.

‘Gosh I’m not picking anyone over you. Just wanna chill here some more with my friends.’

Jude being Jude pushed further, like he always did when he wanted something badly. Giving up was not in his dictionary.

‘Yeah? Chill with that bartender maybe? Have some more shots?.’

Ananya stilled. She did flirt a teeny bit with that guy to get her drink faster, and she could tell the guy reciprocated disproportionately. Giving her extra shots on the house. But she quickly left after, nipping it in the bud. It was all quite harmless, really.

Then why was guilt washing over her in waves? Why couldn’t she come up with any half decent response?

Also, how the fuck did Jude catch that from a distance? 

Jude could see he had hit the nail on the head. This was his window to double down.

‘Outside. NOW.’

‘1 hour.’

‘Nope.’

’Ok 50 mins. Take it or leave it.’

’15 mins - and I get a strip tease when we get home.’

‘Please Jude.’

‘Save that for when I pound you into the mattress tonight.’

She had to sit down, unable to handle his onslaught in her drunken state. Feeling hot all over with just his words.

’30 mins. Final.’

She needed some consolation win.

He stayed quiet for a few moments.

’30 mins. And strip tease.’

She evaluated silently, realising that’s the longest window she’d get. Before he actually does something stupid to draw attention to them. 

‘Fine. But I’m going for brunch tmrw with my friends.’

They usually spent Saturdays cooped up in his bedroom since he had late training. Not tomorrow though - she’d take pride over pleasure. And she really wanted to take him down a peg.

‘Sure - if you can walk.’

‘Oh you…….you little……..I HATE YOU.’

‘Then why are you getting wet right now?’

She nearly dropped her phone. At his audacity, and the fact that he was fucking right. 

Tonight was going to be a long night, and he’d make her make it up to him. Make her be a ‘good girl’ for him.

Somehow, despite crumbling on her will to resist him, it didn’t feel like much of a loss. Because she knew he’d make it worth her while too. Like he always did.

...............................................................................................

I could not stop thinking about this scenario & wrote this in the little time I got this weekend 🥹

Thank you dear anon - this was too good to not be written :)

For those who don't know, the characters are from Star Crossed Lovers.

Parts of Part 2 of this one-shot covered in Ch 12.

[starkidmunson]

damned if i do (give a damn what people say)

It seems Steve Harrington is back off the market

The latest news on the pop star’s love life comes mere weeks after word of a fallout with longtime beau, journalist Nancy Wheeler. While neither party has confirmed the rumors, many of Harrington’s closest friends have hinted at the end of the relationship in interviews and on social media.

One thing everyone failed to mention, however, is that Harrington appears to have moved on and is now dating Corroded Coffin front-man, Eddie Munson.

The two have been friends for years, tracing as far back as the early 2010s, though it’s difficult to put a pin in exactly when they met. Neither are particularly vocal about their personal lives and often change the subject when the other comes up in an interview; a diversion tactic they’ve been playing for years.

Still, the alleged new couple has been spotted around some of Harrington’s favorite Manhattan hot spots several times over the past week.

The rockstar has a bit of an edgier vibe than Harrington’s usual flings; more outspoken and unpredictable than the ‘type’ Steve has typically shown an interest in; at least publicly.

Only time will tell if “Steddie” (so dubbed by the fans in support of the relationship) is true… and if they’ll last.

_____

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating Eddie,” Steve grumbled into the pillow on the floor of his hotel room. With a huff, he turned his head and looked off to the wall on the far side of the room. “I mean, it’s crazy that I can’t go out to dinner with anyone besides you and not be on a date.”

Robin leveled her foot to the center of his back, before shifting her weight onto it, then grinned in satisfaction as Steve groaned and his back popped loudly in several places. “It’s not like it’s that surprising. The tabloids went feral over you and Nancy breaking up after they were convinced you guys were already secretly married.” She shifted her weight back off him, dropping to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “Plus, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, pushing himself up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, leg stretched out against Robin’s.

“It means you two have never looked at each other the way friends do. It makes sense that they’re picking that up.” Robin shrugged, brushing off her comment like it wasn’t shattering part of Steve’s bubble.

“We look at each other totally normally!”

The look Robin leveled Steve with had him pushing himself up off the floor and making his way toward the bathroom.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to start getting ready, but we don’t do anything normal friends wouldn’t because that’s what we are, Robin!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?” Robin asked and sighed heavily when Steve slammed the bathroom door closed in response.

It was only about five minutes before there was a familiar knock at the door; three in quick succession, followed by two after a short pause.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” was understandable, despite being muffled by the door, before Steve was racing out of the bathroom to beat Robin to undoing the locks and letting Eddie in. “Why didn’t you tell me we’re dating?” Eddie asked through a pout, leaned against the doorframe.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, letting Eddie follow him inside, before pointing at Robin. “See! Very much not dating!”

“Well,” Eddie started, teasingly, only to get hit in the face with a pillow from Steve’s bed. “I’m kidding, Steve. It’s not even a bad thing. I mean, they’re actually being really fucking cool about you being bisexual.”

“Being out as bi doesn’t mean that every person, regardless of their gender, is automatically my love interest just because I breathed near them.” Steve snapped, obviously frustrated despite Eddie’s attempts to ease the situation.

“Hey. Don’t get mean. You know what’s not what Eddie meant.” Robin responded. Steve looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment, before he collapsed, face first, onto his mattress with a loud groan.

“C’mon, there’s no need to meltdown over this. If you want me to, I can post something about catching up with old friends to try to make it go away.” Eddie offered, gently, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Steve.

It took a long beat, but Steve eventually lifted his head from his pillows and shrugged. “I don’t want to make you do anything like that. It’s fine. It’ll all work out in the end. I'm just having a weird day, I guess.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and when Steve didn’t elaborate, he turned his head to Robin, who shrugged.

“Nancy texted him this morning asking to not talk about her at shows and he’s been in a sour mood about it since.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, pressing his face back into his pillow miserably.

“Have you been, though?” Eddie asked, confused. “Talking about her, I mean? I thought I was doing a decent job at getting the highlights and I have no memory of you dropping anything profound about you and Nance on any crowds.”

“Not directly,” Steve spoke into his pillow, before turning his head and staring at the wall as he answered. “I made a few comments about my songs. How to get someone back. How to gaslight someone into thinking you love them before letting everything go at the drop of a hat for one of your best friends.”

A silence settled over the room for a moment, before Eddie burst into giggles, which set Robin off. Eventually Steve joined in, turning his attention to the two of them with a heavy sigh.

“I guess I was an asshole about it, huh?”

“I think it’s justifiable.” Eddie offered, to which Robin nodded in agreement as she started toying with Steve’s hair. “If you feel like you’re going to say something about Nancy, you could always say something to me instead. Really confuse the shit out of everyone.” He teased, but Steve beamed.

“Wait, that’s actually a great idea.”

Robin looked apprehensive, holding her hands in the air. “Steve, you remember you just freaked out about this, right? And now you’re going to play into it? Publicly?”

“It’ll be fun. I’m not gonna say anything directly about Eddie. But just. References. And then we can watch the fans lose their shit on TikTok later.” Steve reasoned with a grin, and Eddie smiled back at him.

“I promise to spend the entire show dancing my ass off and singing along. For the bit.” Eddie said, his hand over his heart.

“You do that anyway, you’re just usually backstage.” Robin pointed out, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well, obviously, I have to join you and Dustin in the family tent tonight. Duh.”

“Yes!” Steve agreed with a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re both psychotic.”

_____

“Indianapolis, you're making me feel awfully special tonight.” Steve bit at his lip as he looked around Lucas Oil Stadium to thousands of people screaming back at him. “This is as close to a hometown show as I really get these days, so thank you for always making sure to remind me how special of a place home is.”

The music started to pick up again, but Steve kept talking. “I kind of spent the last few years coasting by without anyone paying too much attention, but now that I’m back on the road, everyone’s suddenly deeply invested in my life, and it's strange to be back so close to somewhere I called home for so long, in the same position I was in five years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, before huffing out a laugh.

“But you guys, you've always been there. Unwavering in a way I will never be able to express my gratitude for.” he paused to glance around the crowd again, grinning as they cheered. “Not many people can say the same, you know?”

“Where is he going with this?” Dustin asked, leaning close to Robin, who shrugged, trying not to have a visible reaction. There were always cameras on them in public like this. Any reaction would be taken out of context and exaggerated.

“Did you see the tabloid rumors about Eddie and Steve?” She replied, and couldn’t help but smile as Dustin’s head whipped back forward to Steve.

“I mean, there’s Robbie, the kids I used to babysit. And, uh…” he trailed off, which Eddie took as his cue to move to the front of the family tent. “Maybe someone else. This one's for you.” Steve said, leaving the “you” ambiguous enough to be open for interpretation.

Eddie, hamming it up, made a heart with his hands, before immediately starting to headbang along to the love song next in the setlist.

_____

In a surprising twist, Dustin managed to wait until the security team had moved them out of the crowd and behind the stage with the crew nearly two hours later before his outburst.

“What the fuck?!” He asked as soon as the were away from the crowd. “Why are you two playing into this? It’s just going to get more headlines and attention on the two of you, which neither of you usually like!”

“But it’s different if it’s on our terms.” Eddie responded, not even looking up from his phone as he answered Dustin.

“Is it, though? Is it really on your terms if it’s not even true?” Dustin sounded exasperated, and while Robin could relate, she was planning on sitting this one out until Eddie shoved his phone into her face.

“It’s already on TikTok. 4 videos in.” He said with a grin as Robin watched Eddie make a hand heart toward the stage before his hair started flopping all over as he sang along. The clip was captioned “steddie is real!!!”

“So you’re proud you’re deceiving fans?” She asked, which made Eddie’s grin fall.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Steve called as he approached from the stage exit. He was covered in sweat and still in his performance clothes, holding a half empty water bottle. “It’s all in good fun. They never need to know if it was real or not.”

“I think you’re downplaying this by a lot. What happens the next time one of you is seen out on a date?” Dustin pressed, and continued despite the way Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean it, an honest to god date. People are going to lose their minds, trying to figure out what broke up Steve and Eddie, when you were never even together in the first place! They’ll turn you against each other, they always do. And if you weren’t dating, isn’t that just as bad of a look?”

“Woah. Henderson. Chill. It’ll be fine, man. You’re WAY overthinking this.” Eddie said, before he grinned at Steve. “Could you see my hand heart from the stage?”

“I could. Did you catch the wink I sent your way at the end of the song?”

“I did, nice touch! I patted my hand over my heart, so maybe that’ll end up on social, too.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the White River.” Dustin groans loudly, to a round of laughs and elbow nudges.

_____

Steve could pinpoint the exact moment things finally felt out of hand two weeks later.

He was getting ready for the show that will wrap up his first weekend at his “home away from home” in 5 years when Eddie texted him about being late to that night’s show.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Eddie had missed the last two shows in Chicago

It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie’d been there, religiously, at the 4 shows before Chicago on the tour, and 6 others before that when his band wasn’t playing their own concerts. Steve even made 3 trips of his own to Corroded Coffin shows, around his own obligations.

But it still made him frown at his phone for a moment too long. Long enough Robin caught him.

“More headlines about Steddie?” She asked, slipping the phone from his hands before he could stop her. When she read over the message, though, her expression softened. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” Steve rushed out, snatching his phone back and shoving it into his pocket. “It’s fine. I’m not upset, there’s no reason to feel sorry. Besides, he just said he’ll be late, he didn’t say he isn’t coming.”

“Would you be upset if he wasn’t coming, then?” Robin asked. Steve glared daggers at her, and sighed when she held her hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, honestly.

___

The intro tape was just about to start as Steve was making his usual trek toward his starting point, when he heard someone running and calling his name from behind him, rather than out in the crowd. He paused and turned, to see Eddie rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to see that I made it before you went on!” He was out of breath, his hair more wild from running than usual, and Steve…

Well, frankly, Steve was tired of pretending like Eddie wasn’t the hottest person he’d ever seen.

So Steve met Eddie halfway, threw his arms around his neck and pressed their lips together in a move Eddie seemed to have anticipated because he wasted no time returning the favor.

It was only Steve’s cue music that had him breaking away, biting at his lip and grinning at Eddie, who grinned back at him, before using the hands he’d placed on Steve’s waist at some point in the interaction to turn Steve toward the stage.

“Go, before you miss the start of your own show, superstar. I’ll still be here after.” Eddie said.

“Promise?” Steve called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stage’s catwalk.

“Cross my heart, big boy.” Eddie drew an x over his heart for dramatic effect, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Steve run to make it to his place on time.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Closer Than You Think

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Warning: fluff, Simon being very observant (kinda giving silent but deadly stalker vibes)

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, this is inspired by @machveil Off-Putting! Simon Fic Link here: https://www.tumblr.com/machveil/765073373377249280/off-puttingsimon-riley-with-a-reader-that-matches (definitely check them out💜)

Word Count: 1.3 K

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The kitchen was warm and quiet, filled with the familiar scent of spices and simmering food as you moved around, focused on your makeshift lunch. Simon was supposed to be cleaning dishes, his usual routine after meals, but he’d been washing the same plate for over two minutes now. From the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, his intense gaze following each step as you sliced vegetables and spread condiments with the quiet concentration of someone completely unaware—except you were more than aware.

The faucet ran uselessly, water spilling over his hands as he held the plate. His stare was unblinking, a quiet, focused intensity as if he were afraid you might disappear if he looked away. Finally, you turned to him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You can keep looking, Simon,” you said softly. “Just turn off the faucet.”

He blinked, almost as if snapping back to reality, and then, with that familiar smirk of his, he shut off the water, letting the dish slip into the rack. His gaze remained on you as he stepped closer, his presence heavy, grounding. You felt the warmth of his hand hovering at your back, close but not touching, like he wanted to reach out but held back, that fierce intensity tempered by the quiet tenderness he saved just for you.

---

Simon’s need to be close extended far beyond quiet mornings and kitchen counters. He was your shadow throughout the day, moving with you from room to room, an ever-present figure who seemed to appear whenever you least expected it. You’d be folding laundry in the bedroom when you’d catch sight of him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you with that same unwavering focus.

Once, while reading in the living room, you looked up to see him seated nearby, his eyes never leaving you as you lost yourself in the pages. He held his coffee mug in one hand, watching with an intensity that felt both comforting and slightly unnerving. It was as if he was memorizing you, studying every detail, absorbing your presence in a way that made you feel as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

He just gave a slight shake of his head, that rare, almost shy smile softening his features. “Nothing. Just like looking at you.”

There was a weight in his words, a depth that went beyond simple affection. Simon’s love was a fierce, consuming thing, one that he conveyed not with grand gestures or pretty words, but with his quiet, undivided attention. And in those moments, you could feel it as clearly as if he’d said it out loud.

---

At night, his need for closeness became even more palpable. Simon would slip into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist with a firm grip that sometimes bordered on possessive. He’d hold you tightly, his hand splayed across your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a roughness that left faint red marks in the morning. It was as if he needed that physical connection, a tangible reminder that you were his and right there with him.

There were nights you’d wake up to find him watching you in the dark, his gaze soft but intense, a quiet kind of reverence in his eyes. He’d reach out, brushing a hand gently down your arm, his fingers lingering as if reassuring himself of your presence. And when he thought you were asleep, he’d press a kiss to your shoulder, the tenderness in his touch a stark contrast to the hard lines of his usual demeanor.

“You’re really watching me all night?” you murmured one evening, breaking the silence.

“Only sometimes,” he whispered back, a hint of a smile in his voice. But his hand tightened around you, pulling you close in a way that made it clear he’d stay there forever if he could.

---

Grocery shopping was another arena for his quiet protectiveness. Simon followed you through each aisle, staying a few steps behind, his tall frame casting a watchful shadow as you moved through the store. He’d let you wander ahead, giving you space to browse, but he was never far. Sometimes you’d look up to find him at the end of the aisle, his eyes tracking your every movement.

One day, while you were comparing brands, a well-meaning stranger approached, glancing between you and Simon. “Excuse me, but… are you aware that there’s a man following you?”

You laughed softly, casting a glance at Simon’s intense, unflinching stare. “Oh—thank you. He’s my husband.”

The stranger’s eyes widened in surprise before he mumbled an awkward apology and hurried away. Simon stepped up beside you, his hand finding its way to your lower back, a grounding presence. You felt his thumb press against your spine, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature as he leaned in, murmuring in your ear, “I like when they know you’re taken.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, nudging him lightly as he smirked, his hand lingering just a moment too long.

---

Sometimes he’d follow you outside too, finding excuses to be close even on the quietest strolls. You might be out in the yard, admiring the blooming flowers, and he’d appear beside you, silent and watchful, his eyes tracing over you with that same intense focus. If you wandered too close to the edge of the property, his hand would come to rest on your shoulder, guiding you back with a gentle but firm pressure.

Once, you caught him outside in the early morning, his eyes on the kitchen window as he watched you from a distance. You’d only been making coffee, the simplest of tasks, but he observed you with the kind of attention others might reserve for something far more significant. You stepped out onto the porch, calling his name, and he came inside without a word, his gaze never leaving you as he slipped into the kitchen and pulled you into a loose embrace.

---

In social settings, Simon’s need for closeness only intensified. He’d stand close behind you at gatherings, his presence a protective wall against the crowd, his hand occasionally brushing your arm or settling at your waist as if anchoring you to his side. His gaze stayed fixed on you, making it clear to anyone nearby that you were his, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

One night at a friend’s party, someone reached out to give you a friendly hug, and you felt Simon’s body tense beside you, his hand sliding to your shoulder with a possessive grip. He didn’t say a word, but his stare was unmistakable, a silent declaration that made the friend take a step back, nodding in understanding. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, reaching up to rest a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Relax,” you whispered, amused by the quiet fierceness in his gaze. He just shrugged, a hint of a smirk on his lips, but he didn’t let go, his hand remaining on your shoulder in a gentle yet firm grip that conveyed exactly how he felt.

---

Even in the smallest moments, his intensity was ever-present. When you’d return from running errands, he’d meet you at the door, his eyes scanning over you as if reassuring himself that you were safe and whole. He’d take the bags from your hands, his fingers brushing over yours, lingering just a moment too long. And at night, he’d hold you close as you drifted off, his arms wrapped around you with a gentle possessiveness that left faint marks in the morning.

Simon’s love was a quiet, intense thing, a devotion that showed in the way he watched you, touched you, held you. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes, his constant presence a silent declaration that he was yours, and you were his. And as you lay beside him each night, feeling the weight of his hand on your waist, the warmth of his breath against your neck, you knew that this was a love unlike any other—fierce, consuming, and wholly, irrevocably yours.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reblogging! -Midnight💜

[fratttymatty]

The Basement

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot York had always lived in a world of his own making. A world painted in shades of faded Polaroids, sepia-toned photography, and the tactile hum of his beloved vintage film camera. At 30 years old, he'd never left his childhood home. His mother didn’t mind. She was just happy he was there, safely tucked away in the basement, where he spent hours surrounded by his photography equipment, sketchbooks, and the scent of old books. His life had always been quiet and unassuming—except for the occasional flare-up of frustration over his stalled career as a freelance photographer and artist.

The basement was his sanctuary. He had put up curtains to separate the clutter of his workspace from the cozy corner where he gamed, lounged on old leather sofas, and tried (and failed) to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him. The art on the walls, his collection of vintage cameras, the scattered paintbrushes and half-finished canvases—they were all remnants of a dream that had long been abandoned. But Elliot had found peace there, or at least a dull form of acceptance.

But one evening, as he sunk into his usual routine—editing photos, sipping cheap wine, and scrolling through social media—something strange began to happen. The room felt different. The walls started to shift and hum with an energy that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t a good feeling, not the cozy, familiar vibe that usually calmed him after a long day. No, this was something else. It was unsettling, almost alien.

Elliot stood up, his bare feet cold against the concrete floor. He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen went black before he could tap it. As if on cue, the lights flickered, then dimmed, and then everything went dark. The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Before he could react, the floor beneath him began to tremble. His heart raced, and the air seemed to pulse with something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, a searing light that filled every corner of the room. He shielded his eyes, but it was no use. The glow was everywhere.

The sound of furniture shifting, re-arranging itself, reached his ears. When the light finally faded, Elliot opened his eyes to find that the basement had transformed into something… different.

Where his art studio had once been, now stood a private gym. The walls were lined with weights, punching bags, and racks of dumbbells. There was a neon sign in the corner that read “GET BIG OR GO HOME,” and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, with gaming consoles strewn across a low table. His leather sofas had been replaced with sleek beanbag chairs, and there were posters of famous athletes and cars decorating the walls. The entire room reeked of sweat and testosterone.

Elliot staggered backward, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He looked around in a daze. This… this wasn’t his space. This was some jock’s lair. It was everything he wasn’t. But before he could piece together what was going on, he felt a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. It was an almost physical sensation, a deep, primal force pulling at him, rewiring him, altering him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

And then it started.

His body began to heat up, the air around him feeling thicker, as if his very cells were being remade. His skin stretched and tightened, his muscles swelling unnaturally as the change began. Elliot gasped, but the sound came out wrong. His voice, once soft and melodic, deepened into something guttural, more masculine. The edges of his vision blurred as the pain started to radiate from the inside out.

His hands, once slender and artistic, grew thick with muscle. His arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded. His abdomen contracted and thickened, forming the abs of a bodybuilder. He could feel the air leaving his lungs as the transformation continued—each breath a battle. His legs grew stronger, thicker, the bones in his legs cracking and reshaping, giving him the powerful legs of a jock.

As the changes continued, Elliot's mind was bombarded by new thoughts, new instincts. The urge to lift weights, to work out, to dominate, it all consumed him. His thoughts flickered and shifted, like pages turning in a book, each one erasing a part of his old self.

His hair was the first thing he noticed. The bleached buzzcut he had been sporting for the past year—decorated with delicate flowers and a symbol of his indie artist lifestyle—was gone. In its place was a thick, dark brown fringe that fell messily across his forehead, styled in the latest TikTok jock fashion. He ran a hand through it, surprised at how it felt so right to him now.

His clothing, too, had transformed. The oversized hoodie and vintage jeans he had been wearing were gone, replaced by a fitted, tight athletic shirt and cargo shorts that clung to his newly muscled thighs. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the gym mirror. The person staring back at him was unrecognizable.

The most shocking change, however, was the way his mind worked. Elliot—no, the person who had been Elliot—was slipping away. His new name was Ethan. He knew that now. He felt it. The name Ethan York seemed to pulse in his veins. The old worries about art, about the future, about being different—all of that was fading. In its place, a new drive surged within him: sports, girls, and partying. The thrill of competition, of lifting weights, of kissing girls on couches like these… that was what mattered now.

Ethan stood there for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. His entire identity was slipping through his fingers like sand. His old life—the life of an artist, of a photographer, of someone who had longed to find his place in the world—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It no longer seemed to matter.

A loud cheer echoed through the basement, and Ethan realized with a jolt that there were people here now. His friends—his new friends—were hanging out in the basement, lifting weights, laughing, playing video games, and throwing around crude jokes. One of them, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck, slapped Ethan on the back.

“Yo, dude, you ready for the party later?” he asked, his voice full of that easy confidence that Ethan now understood all too well.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ethan replied with a grin that felt so natural, it was as if he had always smiled like this. His old self—the one who had stared at the world through the lens of a camera, capturing fleeting moments—was gone.

As Ethan joined his friends, slipping into the role of the charismatic jock, he realized that there was no going back. He had been reborn. His old life, his old dreams, everything that had once been important to him, now felt hollow, irrelevant.

The basement—the gym, the gaming consoles, the posters of athletes—was no longer a prison of his own making. It was home. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt free.

He never once looked back.

The first few days after the transformation were a blur of new experiences, sensations, and… changes. Ethan, as he was now called, settled into his new life with an unsettling ease. At first, there was a part of him—buried deep inside—that clung to the remnants of his old identity. The artist. The creative soul. The man who had spent years living in his mother's basement, making art and dreaming of a different life. But that part of him quickly became overshadowed by the aggressive, hyper-masculine energy that now consumed him.

The more he worked out, the more his body seemed to crave the endorphin rush of weightlifting, of winning, of being the best. His muscles were constantly sore, but the pain felt good—it felt like he was becoming something greater, something stronger, something… dominant. And the more he grew in this new identity, the more he found himself disdainful of anything weak, anything soft. His patience with his old hobbies—photography, art, writing—waned. His camera, once a tool of self-expression, now sat neglected in the corner of his room, gathering dust.

Ethan started to feel that old life was for losers. The people he used to admire—quirky artists, introverted thinkers, anyone who didn’t fit into the tight mold of a jock—seemed… pathetic now. And in its place, a new breed of arrogance and entitlement bloomed within him. He was the center of his world now, and he knew it. The stares, the whispers—he loved them. He could feel the eyes of girls on him whenever he walked into a room, and it sent a rush of pride through his veins.

"Yo, Ethan, you gonna hit the gym today or what?" a voice called out as he walked through the basement. His buddy, Kyle, was sprawled across the new couch, his feet up on the coffee table, wearing a tank top that showcased his broad arms.

"Yeah, in a minute," Ethan replied with a lazy shrug, flipping his dark, messy hair out of his eyes. He no longer cared about the quiet, artistic moments he'd once cherished. Instead, he reveled in the shallow conversations, the jokes about how much protein they were consuming, and the constant flexing of muscles.

But then there were those moments, the ones that made his blood boil—moments that left a sour taste in his mouth, even in the high of his newfound popularity.

One evening, he was hanging out with a group of his friends—drinking beer and playing video games in the transformed basement, laughing too loud, throwing insults at each other like it was the height of wit. The mood was light, but there was something that cut through the laughter that made Ethan’s muscles tense, his jaw clench.

A guy he barely knew—Mark, one of the freshmen from the high school he still technically attended—had shown up at the party, wearing a tight shirt that clung to his body a little too snugly for Ethan's liking. Mark wasn’t a jock, not in the way Ethan now thought of as right. He was more on the geeky side, wearing glasses and talking too much about video games instead of football.

“Yo, Ethan, I didn’t know you liked photography,” Mark said awkwardly, holding a bottle of soda like it was his lifeline.

Ethan glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I used to be into that art stuff. Now I’m focused on real things, y’know? Like... working out.” His voice was rougher now, full of the newfound arrogance that he couldn't even recognize as self-loathing anymore.

Mark fumbled with his drink. "Oh, cool. I mean, I think it's awesome how, like, artistic people can still be jocks."

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately. His lip curled into a sneer, and his eyes narrowed. “Artistic, huh? That’s cute. You know what I think about art?” He looked down at Mark with mock pity. “It’s for soft people. You know, like… weirdos.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The others at the party laughed, clearly uncomfortable but complicit in the joke.

Mark flushed, visibly shrinking under Ethan’s gaze. Ethan wasn’t even thinking about it at this point; he was just speaking what came naturally. The idea that someone could be into photography and still be tough, still be masculine, felt so wrong to him now. He couldn’t put it into words, but his gut told him that real men didn’t concern themselves with art or sensitivity. Real men got girls, lifted heavy weights, and dominated life. His new life.

But it wasn’t just about art. Ethan’s homophobia had grown like a weed in a garden, spreading uncontrollably. It was like his new self had to rewrite every part of him, especially the parts that could be considered “weak” or “soft.” His tolerance for things that felt “feminine” had evaporated, and soon, even the smallest hint of something that was remotely “gay” or “queer” made his skin crawl.

At one point, when a guy from school—Chris—who was a bit more effeminate and openly gay, sat down on the couch near him, Ethan felt his blood pressure spike. Chris had always been polite, always too friendly, but Ethan had never given it much thought—until now.

"Hey, Ethan," Chris said, adjusting his hoodie and running a hand through his sleek hair. "You up for a game later?"

Ethan didn’t look at him at first. Instead, he took a long swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the room. "Nah, man. I’m good," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Chris laughed awkwardly. "Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to Chris, narrowing. “Honestly, dude, you should maybe… like, tone it down a little,” he said, his voice low, deliberately cutting. "You don’t have to be all... effeminate all the time. It’s a little weird."

His words hung in the air, like a heavy stone.

Chris blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion.

Ethan leaned back, his gaze hardening. "I mean... just… you're acting like you’re in a fucking musical or something." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to him. “You don’t need to act so… gay all the time. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

There was a cold silence in the room. Mark, Kyle, and the others shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything. They just stared, either not caring or too afraid to speak up.

Ethan didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

He was a man now. And men didn’t have time for weakness, for sensitivity, for anything that didn’t fit into the world he had molded for himself. The girl he had been flirting with earlier, Mia—she was all over him now, and that felt like the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t some soft, emotional artist anymore. He was Ethan York, and he was popular, and he was a man.

The party continued late into the night. Ethan and his friends played video games, traded insults, and knocked back more beers. The air was thick with bravado, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But Mark—who had been pushed aside by Ethan's cruel words earlier—remained quiet, nursing his soda.

He watched Ethan, his old classmate, with a strange mix of fascination and unease. Something about Ethan had shifted, something deep, something unsettling. But at the same time, Mark couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of longing—a desire to be part of the group, to be part of what Ethan had become. There was a magnetism about Ethan now, something powerful and alluring. And despite everything inside him that told him he didn’t belong in this world, a small voice in his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

It was then that the transformation began.

It started subtly, like the shifting of shadows, creeping through Mark’s body like a slow burn. He felt a wave of heat flood through his chest, his limbs tingling with unfamiliar energy. He was still sitting on the couch, his eyes locked on Ethan as if hypnotized, but everything around him seemed to blur. His body seemed to ache, his muscles pulsing as if they were being stretched and expanded.

Mark’s hands clenched, his knuckles cracking as his fingers thickened with new muscle. His legs seemed to twitch, his jeans growing tighter around his thighs as they bulked up, swelling with new strength. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his entire body seemed to reshape itself, and his thoughts—his old, nerdy thoughts—faded away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to fit in, to be powerful, to be strong.

His clothes felt tight, uncomfortably so, and with a sickening snap, his shirt ripped open across his chest as his pecs ballooned out. His face burned, his jawline sharpening, and his hair—once messy and unruly—now fell in a dark, tousled fringe that framed his face in the exact same style as Ethan's. He barely recognized himself. Mark’s body, once scrawny and awkward, was now a mass of muscle, solid and imposing.

He stood up, suddenly feeling taller, stronger—almost as if he was made to stand out. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Ethan, who stared back with a mixture of amusement and pride. Mark didn’t say a word.

The transformation had taken hold completely.

“Yo, Ethan,” Mark said, his voice now deep and confident, full of swagger. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and his words came out with a new arrogance, “This is fucking awesome.”

Ethan smirked, clearly satisfied. "Welcome to the team, bro," he said, throwing an arm around Mark’s newly broad shoulders, the two of them standing side-by-side. It felt natural, as if this was how it had always been.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His old self—the nerd, the shy, creative guy who had spent hours tinkering with gadgets and buried in his books—was gone. In its place stood someone who had finally found their place in the world. Mark was a man, and he wasn’t going back.

The soft hum of the gym in Ethan’s basement was now a constant background noise in his life—weights clanging, music blasting, and the occasional cheer of a newly broken record. The basement had been his domain, but in the last few months, it had become more than that. It had become the center of his life, not just in terms of workouts and gaming, but in how he’d built the new life he’d always dreamed of—confident, strong, and undeniably him.

But the biggest change had nothing to do with the weights or the video games. It had everything to do with her.

Mia.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ethan as he adjusted his dumbbells. The space between them was no longer just one of attraction or chemistry—it was something deeper now, something rooted in trust and understanding. They had been together for several months, and while the world around Ethan had transformed beyond recognition, there was one constant—Mia.

And she’d always had a way of seeing beyond the surface.

“Hey, how’s the game going?” Mia asked, a playful edge to her voice. She didn’t need to say much to get his attention.

Ethan grinned, setting down the weights. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned against the wall, glancing at her. “Crushing it. Of course.” He winked, his tone cocky, but the smile on his face was genuine.

Mia raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re always crushing it,” she said, her voice light but full of affection. "You need to teach me your secret sometime."

Ethan laughed, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch, his hand naturally resting on the back of her neck. He let his fingers trail lightly over the skin there, brushing away a strand of hair. “You mean the secret to being irresistible?” he said, voice laced with playful arrogance.

She snorted. “You really do have an ego now, don’t you?”

He grinned, but the cocky edge in his voice softened. “Maybe a little. But I’m not complaining. Life’s good right now.” He took a deep breath, feeling the quiet satisfaction of his success, but it wasn’t about the muscles or the achievements. It was about the life he had built—and who he was building it with.

Mia reached up to cup his jaw, her fingers gentle as they traced the sharp line of his face. She studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I can see that. But you know what? I’m proud of you, Ethan. You’ve worked hard for all of this. I see the difference in you.”

Ethan smiled, the weight of her words settling warmly in his chest. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, Mia.”

She tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze. “Maybe not. But you did it. And that’s all you.”

There was a silence between them—one of those comfortable, content moments that didn’t need any words. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the physical changes—those were easy. What she meant was that he’d grown into a person who wasn’t afraid to be himself anymore. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or hiding behind old insecurities. He was a man who had claimed his place in the world—and who had found someone who not only accepted him, but loved him for exactly who he was.

Their lips met softly in a kiss, one that wasn’t rushed or full of desperation, but one that carried years of silent understanding. They’d both grown over the past months—not just together, but as individuals. Ethan had finally come to realize that strength wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. And Mia had always been there, steady and real, pulling him forward whenever he felt like he was slipping.

As they pulled away, Mia grinned up at him. “So, what are we doing tonight? I was thinking we could actually hang out in the real world instead of this basement gym.”

Ethan laughed. “You mean… like a date? Outside of this cave?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile wide and genuine. “Maybe we could hit up that new sushi place you’ve been talking about? You know, actually go somewhere without a weight bench involved?”

Ethan thought about it for a moment. He was used to the basement—the familiar pull of weights, the games, the comfort of his private space. But as he looked at Mia, at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something as simple as dinner out, he realized that there were more important things than the four walls that had once defined his life.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, reaching down to take her hand. “I think I’m ready for something new.”

Mia grinned, squeezing his hand. “You mean you’re finally ready to leave your little kingdom?”

Ethan chuckled, pulling her up from the couch and leading her toward the door. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it. The basement's still got a few more workouts left in me.”

Mia laughed, her head resting against his shoulder as they walked out the door together. She was right—Ethan had changed. And while the muscle and the confidence were part of it, the real change had happened inside. He was no longer the guy who hid in the shadows of his mother’s basement, afraid to show the world who he truly was. Now, he was the man who had built his life, step by step, with the strength of his own will—and with the love of someone who saw him, really saw him, for all of it.

And as he stepped into the world outside, hand in hand with Mia, Ethan knew that whatever came next, he was ready for it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And he had someone by his side to enjoy it with.

[methoughtsphantom]

halfas are the found family trope foster child

they all adopt each other. it’s the reason Vlad wanted so badly to have Danny as his son and the reason Danny immediately went with sure you’re my cousin now with Dani. it’s a survival mechanism from being so very few of their species. Sooo, halfa!Jason except he sorta isn’t yet cause Jason’s core is extremely ruptured from the lack of ectoplasm involved in his forceful resurrection. So when Danny finds Jason in his catatonic state he can’t quite tell the dude’s been dead and remains some, just that the guy for some reason seems very friend-shaped. Danny doesn’t mind his friend is braindead, and is also a john doe, he gives familiar vibes and that’s apparently enough for Danny to constantly find himself in the hospital doing his engineering homework on the room with the guy, and talking for hours about the updates on the absolute clusterfuck of the city and how he was from a freaking ghost town and he can almost even draw comparisons. he blabbers about how he’s not homesick enough times to even corner himself to talk about a ghost lore many times and how he’s just finding himself a little more prone to violence and in constant pain since none of the people he has adopted as his family are here with him and he can’t consider a place a lair if there’s isn’t someone of his in it.

But Danny could never drag someone with him just because of some it, after all it was Danny’s choice to come to Gotham to collage and not stay where at least his parents (good parents Jack and Maddie) were in Amity.

Ironically, Danny essentially can’t feel that his core has been spoon feeding ectoplasm to Jason. As months go on, the little ball of energy builds in anticipation practically vibrating in the waiting pulse of something (Danny doesn’t know but more often than not has he found himself laughing in happy confusion. it weirds him out in a good way) It’s really that he’s feeling the slow healing process of his friend (brother brother brother) ‘s core.Imagine it’s just about to properly, correctly heal when canon strikes back and Jason gets snatched by League assassins. Danny is left feeling like his core got torned out. His core had spend months helping another’s only to feel the other’s imprint and to not be able to protect it in return is— forget it being an obsession; thats like having your newborn baby being ripped out of your arms. An all assuaging feeling of helplessness that is devastating. Danny just beginning to feel like home lair when out of nowhere the rug is swept under him. Danny suddenly struggling to not flunk all his classes and beat every single liminal that he can feel crossing paths with him to the ground. Danny suddenly having his chronic pain (that hadn’t been so bad lately) dialed up to the point that there are just bearable and bad days.

The worse thing is he doesn’t know why.

Jason had only been a guy.

…

It’s only a three weeks before Jazz tells him she accepted a job offer in Gotham.

(and the guilt only makes him feel worse when he can feel himself feel better because of it)

…

now

whimsical time skip ✨

Danny is now on his feet again and friends with a Wayne of your choice (or maybe they were friends a little before Jay dissapeared and it was badTM cause Waynes? liminal 🥲) Danny definitely didn’t enjoy snapping off to his friend like that. anyways it’s been a year since that and he and his friend are having a grand time playing civvies, uhh let’s say dick because I want them to meet while ice skating, Also Dick because he definitely turns a blind eye when Danny goes airborne for a second there yep. He’s just having too much fun.

anyways as alwaysTM Danny doesn’t clock celebrities and like why would he, Dick is just the random guy who’s was fast to turn Danny’s slow day in the ice ring into a competition one day and brighten when Danny matched up his puns. So he totally doesn’t get why the guy’s so gloomy one day, anyways as you can figure, it’s Jason’s deathday and Dick is a deprecating bean, Danny tries to cheer him up by having him remember his brother instead and Dick attempts to, but even skipping through some photos in his phone make his eyes burn.

It is because of that that he doesn’t notice Danny absolutely freeze up at the photo of his friend Jay (Jay because he’s a John Doe, but that’s just too impersonal and so the first letter is J *wink wink*)

Danny absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this information, barely catches himself from asking Dick how did his brother die. Most importantly when because Danny just saw Jay—Jason less than a year ago, and this somehow doesn’t feel too recent.

Annd that how we find Danny digging into the Wayne second son tragedy. Staring at the date of death while the knowledge that they met almost six months after burns his forefront of his mind. Danny spends a day going over all the questions running through his mind over how the fuck he couldn’t sense Jay was a ghost—err was… in past tense?? what the fuck?? Danny would really like a refund on his ghost sense.

Anyways Danny goes check out the grave (now that he knows there is one) and boom although intangible he somehow triggers those shitty ass sensors/alarms that somehow didn’t go off when jason was literally digging himself out.

Obviously the bats get in the case immediately. And boy are they absolutely enraged that someone would steal Jason’s body.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I think the Hisoillu dynamic is straight up one of the funniest dynamics ever actually

Two guys nobody likes because they’re murderous freaks and both have something deeply wrong with them, who almost always work alone. You’d expect them to have a kind of extremely fucked up rival villain/passive aggressive/regular murder threats vibe but instead, when they’re not terrorizing people, they’re usually just chilling.

Illumi is insistent that they are not friends, merely working together, but yet whenever there’s some downtime he goes and finds Hisoka and they just sit and chat about work. Have a drink. You know. And Hisoka calls on Illumi for favours and messes with him for shits and giggles and Illumi… doesn’t seem to care? It clearly irritates him but he doesn’t do anything about it. Hisoka propositions Illumi to murder him and Illumi describes this agreement in terms of an engagement. Up until this point they had what was described as a give and take relationship. This is clearly a form of fucked-up commitment and an understandable next step for them. Hisoka knows he’s messed up and even he is stunned by Illumi’s complete inability to read the fucking room concerning Killua and thinks there’s something deeply wrong with him. Illumi thinks his behaviour is perfectly normal and responds to Hisoka’s particular brand of freak with mild judgement but also a shrug and a whatever because he knows him well enough that it doesn’t really surprise him at this point.

Oh, and they knew each other before the story started, well enough that there is a definite familiarity there. This has yet to be elaborated on, and it might not ever be.

They actually very rarely interact directly in the story (mostly Hunter Exam and Election arcs).

At least they got off-panel murder-engaged (?) though?

10/10 dynamic. This is hilarious.

[loveemagicpeace]

🥃Astrological Things☁️🥥

🎨Fire signs are full of passion and life and everything they do involves passion. And they don't like being with people who are too serious and down to earth. They always say "okay lets do this". They love to do things and are there for all the drama and action and will always do crazy things with you.

🍬Mercury in Aries are very honest and straightforward. With them, you will always know where you are and what is happening. Everything you ask them, you will get a direct answer. They seem to me to be the most sincere and true with words.

🌙You will feel most comfortable and familiar with people with which you have 4th house synastry. With these you will feel the warmth and feel as if they will always be there for you. You'll feel like they've known you forever. You can feel this with your friends as if they were your brothers or sisters. It's home vibes so u two can be homies or family. Your family can look at them as part of the family. I think this is very beautiful synastry for relationships & friendships.

🫧Pluto in the 1st house - in the early period of your life you will face many trials. Many people may put you down or not treat you well. Many times I have noticed that they experience contempt from people or people humiliate them. Their early life can be quite difficult - they can attract many people who are jealous of them and wish them ill. You achieve strength later in life. But you transform yourself throughout your life and become an ever stronger person.

✨The difference between capricorn rising and scorpio rising is that capricorns will always get respect. What is one thing i have noticed that no matter what - they always get the respect of others and will always want to be respected. You will make an impression on other people with your silence. You're not going to do anything and you're just going to kill people with your looks. Your energy is very strong. Scorpios, however, want power, and with that they can go through anything to achieve it. Many times their energy can be too intense and tense. A lot of times they do something related to intimacy. Scoprio rising - intimate areas, sexuality..mc leo - sex, playfulness, visibility. Scorpio wants power & Capricorn wants respect.

🔥Mars in 1st house & Mars in 12th house - the difference is that someone who has Mars in the 1st house comes forward angry, aggressive, scary. But he is aware of his anger, which means that whatever he does, he is aware of his limits and how far he can go. Mars in the 12th house, on the other hand, hides its anger and anger manifests itself in many ways. These people can be much more scary and dangerous when someone makes them angry. Many times I notice that these people have at least one contact with weapons or they like it. They like guns. These people could have a collection of guns.

🌛Cancer & taurus moon are similar in that they both will leave if they don't feel the energy in the room of people or wherever they are and both moons don't like to go out with strangers or with really big group of people. They prefer to be with only one person. They both love food and movies. Both of them have a sense of security and always take care of the people around them.

🌱Cancer rising- you are more of an introverted person, prefer to keep back and do not like to be in the company of strangers. You need your own space and I have noticed many times that these people do not like to drive strangers in their car or go to the vacation with them. They don't like it when people invade their private space.

🌼Venus and Cancer - these people are enthusiastic about children, they have a good feeling for children. They immediately immerse themselves in the conversation with them. They are very family oriented.

🥥Capricorn moon people have a lot of empathy towards people. A very friendly moon, otherwise they can be too focused on work and the things they have, but they are very friendly.

🫐Virgo placements especially rising sign a lot of times they are insecure about their body and how they look like. Also a lot of times they don't like taking pictures of themselves for example : for the men -without shirt on it and for woman the body parts the chest or belly. Or any part of the body that is intimate. But a lot of times it's the upper part of the body. Many times they are also very critical of their bodies. I think they have a very beautiful body, but they are too critical of themselves about their appearance. And they look very sexy when they have messy hair!

☁️Taurus/ sagittarius/ virgo placements especially venuses will be very critical of the bodies of other person like they would see the details of the person's body. For example: you like someone's arms and fingers - and the person will gain weight in their arms and suddenly you won't like it anymore, or they will have a too thick neck or their legs will be too muscular - You will see certain flaws on the person's body that you will no longer like. Hard to explain, but there are little things that they notice. Also, if the person goes on beauty corrections or something similar, it can quickly turn them away from the person.

���Libra placements can sometimes be a little too obsessed with being liked by everyone and having a lot of people around them. Sometimes I have the feeling that they are too obsessed with the fact that people have to love them. They need the love from others way to much. And I have a feeling that sometimes they can be even more obsessed with perfection than virgos. The difference between libras and leos are that libras need people's attention. While Leos need attention to themselves, to be seen for their talents. Or that one person they really love.

🎯Aries in the other hand will always be honest and direct. But people often find them selfish because they focus more on themselves than on the people around them. And yes they could be but also when they love you and they find a connection with you, they will give you a lot of their energy. The difference is that Aries will only give their energy to people they really like and suit them. While libras will give their energy to everyone.

🍿The general energy between fire signs and air signs is that air signs can get along with everyone and will give everyone the same energy. Fiery signs are picky when it comes to people and will only give their energy to those they really like and will find passion with.

🧊8th house synastry create an energy like you have to have this person to yourself. And if the person is not only yours, you can quickly start showing jealousy. You want it to be just your person and you don't want to share it with any other person. These two people, even if they want to, cannot alienate themselves from each other. You cannot let go of this person even if you try. I mean it's very hard to go if you have a powerful relationship with this person.

🧃Geminis are very comfortable talking on the phone in front of other people. They always don't care if someone is around or listening to them. Many times they talk about very personal topics and don't care if anyone is listening.

☁️It's actually the earth signs that hides the most pain in themselves because they never talk about feelings out loud. They don't want to bother other people with their emotions and feelings and all of it. They want to be strong for others especially Moon signs and that's why they never talk about feeling so openly because they always feel this pressure they they have to be strong.

⭐️The signs you have a love-hate relationship with are actually the signs that will give you the most love and growth. For ex.: you have leo in your 8th house and you just hate their energy sometimes or how they made you feel. And all the times characteristics that they have bothers you and they will say all the wrong things to you and you will be like” I just hate them so much”but you will find out that this signs will actually do the most sacrifice for you. They will be the most loyal to you & you will have with them the most deep relationship of all the people in your life.

-Rebekah💗🦋🫧

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream who's most likely to have kids in the future. 

AN: Okay don't take this seriously, just a thought lol.

Lee Donghyuck

I mean, Haechan did mentioned that he wants to be a father so he's most likely to have kids. I chose two because I feel like he wants his kids to have siblings, ohhh and he's definitely a girl's dad. He'll give them bear onesies especially the matching one. If he had a son, he'll match his outfit with him. He's also very protective of his kids. 

Na Jaemin

Yes another one thank you. Not surprised given that he has three children already just kidding. Jaemin is fond with kids that's why he's second. I believe in Na Jaemin girl's dad supremacy and yes two daughters. Two pretty princesses with a pretty Dad. He'll spoil them rotten and give them the cutest room ever, painted pink of course. He's also protective of them and he lets his daughters play with Luna, Lucy, and Luke. 

Huang Renjun

Renjun seems to be the type who'll settle when he found the one. He's very endearing and the way he treats Dreamies as his kids, feels like he do want to have kids someday. I feel like he's a boy's dad, he's very familiar with boys that's why he prefer it,,, like does that make sense. And just one, because in this economy,, why would you want more than one? I think he'll be happy with just one kid. 

Zhong Chenle

Just like Renjun, Chenle would probably be the type who'll settle once he's really really serious with them. He seems to be the type of dad who'll spoil their son, base from how he treat his nephew and Daegal. I think that he's a girl's dad too! but a son is okay too. Probably the type who will indulge his kids with their hobbies. You like ballet? Okay I will enroll you to a ballet school, you want to be a singer? Okay he'll train them but will not let him sign under SM.

Mark Lee

Mark seems to be more career-driven, so he's at the least likely. If he did had kids someday, I feel like he'll have two, and he's definitely a boy's dad. I feel like the way Mark was raised is also the way he'll raise his kids. Especially with his faith, I know it sounds cheesy but I think that Mark's number one influence in his kids would be his faith. 

Park Jisung

This kid, he will die a virgin. Joke, I feel like it'll take time for him to find a significant other and if he did, he'll just have one kid. He's a boy's dad, definitely. And he'll see himself in his son, so he'll cherish him dearly. Maybe accidentally brought him to a dancing class one day so that he can also be a dancer like him. 

Lee Jeno

I placed Jeno in the least likely to have kids in the future because I don't know. That's just how his vibe radiates. He'll most likely be like Lee Dongwook in the future. Hot Dilf who's actually childless. He seems to be the type who's contended with his single life with his pet cats. If he did settle down, Jeno would probably have two kids and he can both be a girl's dad and a boy's dad. He seems like a chill father for me too. 

[l-in-the-light]

Luffy's and Law's similarities

Because people always talk only about their differences, time to do the uno reverse! You might be surprised how many there are, actually.

Snapping at exactly same thing.

Snapping at same stuff again, because sometimes they share exactly the same brain cell. Even their face expressions are exactly the same in both examples lol.

Whenever Law actually loosens his guard, he reacts in exact same ways as Luffy does.

They both have a very similar experience with their mentors sacrificing themselves for them and same selfblaming reaction. This serves mostly as a prologue because we will compare how child Law and child Luffy behaved.

Both were reckless brats with very wrong self-harming ideas to get what they want.

They hate "dirty tricks" and being lied to. And easily lash out.

Their initial reaction to making fun of someone tripping/being pushed on the floor or making fun of anyone. Also standing there in exact same pose with their fists clenched.

"I will go find a real role model", same vibes here honestly.

"You will pay for this" mentality. They were also both literally thrown which endagered their lives and they both can't believe it's actually happening, that anyone would do something like that. Also bonus points for swearing child Luffy haha.

Both consider some people to be just total scums that deserve punching. Bad guys should be taught a lesson. Law at least managed to land a stab, so 1:0 for him.

This is intriguing. This is the last time Law asks someone for help. And last time Luffy asks someone to help him. Both seem to be convinced "asking for help" caused their loved ones to get hurt, so you will never hear them do it again. The only difference here is Law is asking to help Corazon, while Luffy is the one who needs the help.

Later on Luffy is taught to ask for help by Vivi in Drum Kingdom, but he isn't asking for himself, but to help Nami. Meanwhile Law never again uses the polite words. The most he is capable of is to ask Cavendish "tanomu" which is more like "I'm counting on you".

Both sit in same pose whenever Law isn't trying to impersonate Corazon's style (yes, Law mimicks Cora a lot, also in the way he walks). At least once he slipped and sat in the way he found naturally comfortable instead and it was exactly same way as Luffy's preferred sitting position. What a curious coincidence.

Another funny thing about them is that they both like to wear exactly same type of shoes they used to wear as a child, Luffy the sandals, and Law his dark boots. It's not really that common thing in the manga, for example, Nami and Zoro didn't stick to same type of shoes they used to wear when they were kids.

They also sleep in exactly same position, the infamous T-pose. For comparison, the rest of the Strawhats all have their own different sleeping positions (first from the right is Usopp ofc lol).

They also match each other's pace pretty well. "Let's go, Torao!" and "Ike!" as Law's answer which literally means just "Go!", because Traffy is ready too, no need to stall back.

And finally my favourite:

If Law wasn't under Corazon's "calm" spell, would his laugh sound familiar? Perhaps would it be "shishishi" we know so well? Of course that's the last time Law laughs like that, so we can't compare him laughing when he's an adult. Families in One Piece often share similar laughs, it seems. Unless you're a devil fruit user, that also changes your laughter apparently hm.

There's probably even more similarities between their behaviour, thinking patterns and expressions than I managed to find. I find it suspicious considering those two did not grow up together, so why are they so similar when they're both children?

I dunno if whole D. clan is an actual family, but I think Law and Luffy definitely had a shared ancestor and probably not that far in the past. Very curious since they're from East Blue and North Blue, the two seas mentioned to be the hardest to travel from one another.

Many people speculated Dragon isn't related to Garp or Luffy because they don't really look that much alike, but if you compare Monkey, Trafalgar and Gol family members together you can start to see some pattern emerging: they all have naturally black ruffled hair Potter-family style (you're welcome for that comparison you never wanted to notice and now you can't unsee haha). I wonder if Joyboy will also be revealed of sporting similar style of hair.

[callahanisms]

body talk

seeing challengers was a mistake guys because all i can think about is challengers and how much i love challengers and how cinema is back after people declared the death of cinema like three years ago and how much i wanna go see challengers again—

anyways uhhhh did challengers make me hop onto the mike faist train? yes. because i love a man that clearly worships his wife and kisses boys.

character: art donaldson

for vibes: "physical" by olivia newton-john

context: stanford university. 2007.

if you had a choice, you wouldn't be working as a receptionist in the gym. instead, you'd work in the infirmary. it was more in line with your desire to pursue sports medicine.

your father himself was an athlete who sustained a career ending injury and went into sports medicine. you wanted to follow in his footsteps.

but for now, you were working as a receptionist at the gym for your federal work study. college wasn't going to pay for itself unfortunately and your parents could only provide so much support.

art donaldson recognized you while you guys were at a party. "you're the person at the desk in the gym!" he sounded so excited. almost like a puppy.

"yeah..." you look down at your red solo cup. "you're like a regular. with tashi duncan."

"you know her?"

"well, i've talked to her a few times. she's great." who wouldn't like her honestly? you weren't the biggest fan of tennis but whenever tashi duncan played, she always managed to make it magical.

"you're also in my bio class, right?"

"you're in my bio class?"

"oh don't tell me you didn't notice."

you shrug. "i didn't. you're not very...noticeable, i guess."

art took personal offense to that statement.

okay not entirely. because to some extent, you were right. he wasn't as noticeable as some of the other people in class, like the lacrosse player on the guys team or the girl from the basketball team, both of whom you seem to be close with.

growing closer to art was just a matter of being in a lot of classes together, something you didn't realize during the first month of college.

to be fair, it was a lot.

but the good thing about having a lot of classes with him was that it meant you always had a go to person for group projects. and god were professors adamant about assigning group work.

at the very least, you had a workout buddy when you guys were free. sometimes, you were even joined by tashi duncan. so it was cool to be able to work out with a famous tennis player.

perhaps the gym is where you started to notice art's...physicality.

he wasn't entirely imposing, aside from being quite tall. but he had a surprising amount of muscle. perhaps the tank tops he wore didn't help much. it left little to the imagination.

because of your familiarity with the body and your desire to go into sports medicine, art called you when he was feeling a bit sore.

he opens the door with a smile, seeing you with your bag and clementines. "what's the fruit for?"

"just in case you get hungry." you step in and remove your shoes. "just lay down."

"bed or floor?"

"whichever you prefer. the bed might be more comfy. we'd have to move stuff around if you were on the floor. oh and take off your shirt."

"what?" he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat up.

"take off your shirt. a massage won't be that effective with your shirt on."

"alright. umm..." art just does what you ask of him, taking his shirt off and setting it aside on his desk chair. he gets on the bed and lays down, front side down.

you pull out a bottle of lotion and crawl onto the bed, straddling him at his waist. you are unaware of how red he is feeling you against him.

you feel around his back for bit, asking him where in particular is tight. once you got a good idea, you squirt some lotion onto your hands, rub it a bit, then begin to massage.

art would be embarrassed from the sounds that came out of him. but he was craving for the relief from his overworked and tired muscles. he could feel just how deep your hands went in, twisting and rubbing. your hands felt so good. they glided smoothly and your touch soothed him greatly.

"damn dude. when was the last time you massaged yourself?"

"don't know." he mutters, burying his lower face into his own pillow. he could feel himself growing warmer all over his body.

your palm pressing into him, dragging itself through his muscles, rubbing baby lotion into his skin so he's soft.

your hand reaches a part of his lower back, your palm rubbing through the muscle. and he moans.

you stop for a moment. "something wrong?"

"no...nothing's wrong..." he mutters.

"you sure?"

"yes. keep going."

he enjoys the way your hands move lower, and lower. he wants them to sneak to the front. massage him a different way.

your hands linger on a particular spot of his back though, feeling the defined muscle. there's something particularly...satisfying, about running your hands over his body. you were tempted to feel more. especially his arms.

art's arms were utterly gorgeous, as if sculpted out of marble by a renaissance artist themselves.

"i think you're all good."

"all done already?" he smelled like baby lotion. whatever that mean.

"unless you want me to massage elsewhere." you get off of him and he turns on his side to look at you.

the tank top you were wearing was a little bit tight.

art gently grabs your wrist. "magical hands you know."

"it's beneficial to learn how to massage. for your own betterment and health. though i will happily help you with the spots you can't reach."

he rubs circles into your wrists. "are they tired?"

"a little. it was because i took an exam yesterday. writing in those blue booklets is absolute torture."

"that's fair." his eyes flicker up to yours. the room was warm, the atmosphere right. "do you...like my body?"

"it's nice. you're very beautiful." you smile.

art pulls you forward, your legs hitting the wooden bedframe of the shitty college provided furniture.

"do you want to feel it?"

you bite your lip. "i think i do."

[flowery-mess]

Midnights of October🍁🧡🎃

october 16th

Noah helps when stranger is bothering you

warnings: annoying stranger, alcohol, mentions of verbal abuse

summary: you and your friends have a girls night out where a stranger sits at your table and won't leave, so Noah steps in

taglist: @concreteangel92 @lma1986 @sorrowsofsilence (let me know if you want to ba added or removed)

Midnights of October masterlist

*

based on this post of mine and girls night out of mine

You and your friends were out for a hangout after long time of no seeing each other

In a quiet bar where's enough space to hang out but still hear each other talking

The night started off well, you were one of the first ones to enter and after one glass of wine the conversation was flowing

And suddenly the bartender came to your table with bottle of fancy champagne with words 'man sitting at the bar bought this for you enjoy'

Older man just waved at you and your friends from the bar and it seemed like it was really just a nice gesture and not his way to interlude your girls night

After while the bartender brought second bottle, third and suddenly the older man was sitting at your table

So your thoughts were actually right

Your friends thought it's rude to at least not talk with him for a bit, so some of them did, you not tho

Unnecessry attention from older men was always not appreciated by you, so not interested in his stories you started to look around the bar, maybe looking for familiar faces you could hang out to avoid this man

You saw group of 5 men, looking sloght out of place with their tattoos and the vibe they were giving off, in a good way

Your eyes locked with the brunette one for a few seconds, you two shared a smile

He is handsome, you thought

You turned your attention back to your friends, some of them still talking with the man, some of them looking annoyed just like you

Hiding your feelings was never yoir case, so to Noah it was very clear you're not happy about the man at your table even from his table at the other side of the room

You were glaring at him, talking with your grimaces 'fuck off from our table'

But men they were see the signs right

You caught Noah looking at you or the man at your table few times

Everytime your eyes met it seemed like he was asking you 'everything ok?' with his eyes

Later he noded his head in the direction of the man that was still comfortably sitting at your table

You just nodded your head

Later you went to get a new drink at the bar and while waiting you heard male voice from behind you 'You don't look happy about your company of that gentleman.'

You turned around and saw those pretty eyes from close

'He bought us few bottles od champagne and thinks he got ticket to our table with that.'

'If you'd give me one of those looks you're giving him I'd pack my shit and leave.'

And that's how your small talk with Noah started, he left you with 'If you need help just wave at me, there's 5 of us and just 1 him.'

Which was very hot to you

After another 30 minutes of that man talking you slightly got annoyed and told him that maybe he could go now, that you're out for girls night, not spend the night with a random weirdo

And that hurt his ego and he started attacking you verbaly

Voices were raised and so was Noah's attention

He saw you got offensive and he didn't want to cause a scene, so he just observed for a while longer

But when that man kept raising his voice and started calling you names Noah couldn't help it

'Take a hint and leave man, leave them alone.' Noah said with a calm steady voice

'And what the fuck do you care?' that man's actions got out of hand so security got involved

After everything calmed down you and your friends said thank you to Noah and the security guys and wanted to continue with your conversation

But you felt mad and needed fresh air, so you went outside to calm yourself down

'Are you ok?' and you heard that voice once again

Noah stood few steps behind you, genuine worry on his face

'Yeah I just needed a minute.'

'Understandable, that guy was a jerk.'

'Yeah, that he was. Thank you again.'

'No worries.' Noah send you s mile and stepped closer to you, comfortable silence taking over

'So, maybe after saving you I could get your name?' that made your head spin, because you thought he was serious about saving you, making it sound like you couldn't stand up for yourself

But you saw one side of his lips up and then the cutest laugh left his mouth

'I'm just kidding. About the saving part tho.'

That night you have him your name along with your number

'Thank you for actually kind of saving us.'

Since then, after you got to know each other and made things official, Noah loved answering the question 'How did you guys meet each other?', because he gets to tease you with his 'hero saved lives of 6 women and stole one of their hearts' story

But also when the guys are around, he gets teased for how much he cared for a stranger at a bar (at that time) just because she was pretty and he used it as a chance to get to talk to her

I'll edit this tomorrow, I'm tired af so sorry for mistakes, I'll also maybe change it a bit so you can come back for edited version lol

[so-so-woso]

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

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

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

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

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

[wildrangers]

The Planets and the Fates and All the Stars Aligned // William Nylander

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: The three times Willy almost asked you out and the one time he finally did

{This is my submission for the lovely @jackhues for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k24, organized by the amazing @wyattjohnston!}

Warnings/tropes: mutual pining, poor communication, resolved (minor) angst, fluff, cursing, drinking

You were grateful that Auston was taking you under his wing following your big move to Toronto—seriously. It was better to be at a New Year’s Eve party where you knew all of one person rather than alone in your apartment. Though…there were a lot of loud drunk men at this party which wasn’t your favorite vibe. You’d much prefer enjoying a nice cocktail with a view of Toronto over being stuffed in one of Tony’s teammate’s suburban homes. But really—you were grateful for Auston and this somewhat odd built in social network that came with him.

You were drawn from your thoughts by a cheer from the pong table and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the intense excitement of the younger guys currently facing off there. You flipped your wrist around to see the time again just as a large, familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

“That’s at least the fifth time you’ve checked the time since we got here…what, an hour ago?” Auston teased, grinning as he took the seat next to you.

“It’s only the fourth” you grumbled making Auston raise his hands in surrender.

“My apologies for the slander, miss.”

You rolled your eyes and jostled your shoulder into his before settling your head there instead. “I’m just tired from the move and everyone here seems very…extroverted?” you tried, not wanting to speak poorly of the group you barely knew.

“Look, I get it” he replied, ruffling your hair gently. “Can I please get you a drink now? At least your hands will be busy then.”

You nodded against his shoulder before raising your head so he could go grab your favorite drink. You were surprised when his place was quickly filled by a blonde-haired boy with mischievous blue eyes.

“You must be Julia, I’m Willy” he smiled, offering his hand for you to shake. You smirked, gripping his hand in your own. You were not, in fact, Julia, but this should be entertaining.

“Nice to meet you, Willy. I hope Auston hasn’t said anything too horrific about me.”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure I talked to you before things got too serious with him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean a gorgeous girl like yourself should know that I am available and a much, much better catch” he stated confidently and you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well, I may as well hear the sales pitch now” you smirked, pleasantly surprised by the tipsy man before you.

“I mean first of all” he said, simply pointing to his hairline, which drew a gasp from your mouth as you whacked his arm, “I’m just saying!”

“What are you ‘just saying’ to my cousin, William?”

Will’s blue eyes widened as he processed Auston’s words. “Wait so you’re…not Julia?”

Auston handed you your drink, “No, this is Y/N, weirdo. I was going to bring Julia to dinner tomorrow night but maybe I won’t now. How long did she have you going?”

“Long enough to put my foot in my mouth” he admitted and you smirked, pleased at the pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “But not so long that I can’t recover?” he questioned.

“Stay tuned” you replied, maintaining eye contact as you took a sip of your drink. Luckily, Auston was called away leaving just you two again.

“I swear, I’m not usually like that” he began and you tilted your head slightly.

“Like what?”

He seemed at a loss for words so you chuckled, “You’re fine, I’ll stop fucking with you now. You were just so confidently wrong, I had to see where things went.”

He chuckled to himself, “Confidently wrong is kind of a good summary for me actually…”

“The great William Nylander? No, I’d say most the time your confidence is probably just right.”

“You even knew who I was and still let me make a fool of myself?!”

You giggled and nodded, “I obviously know who you are, I watch as many of Ton’s games as I can. You’re usually playing in them too.”

“Wait, so rewind. You’re Tony’s cousin?”

“Not by blood, but yeah. We grew up together and our families are super close. He’s been trying to get me out here forever, so when a better job opened up in my company’s Toronto location, how could I say no?”

“When did you move?”

You jokingly checked your watch, “About eight hours ago now.”

“Oh well, welcome! I love it here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded, sipping his drink and you couldn’t help how your eyes were drawn to his mouth with the movement. “I moved around so much as a kid; this is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place. Minus summers in Sweden, obviously”

“I would love to go to Sweden” you admitted. “It looks so beautiful.”

As he began passionately talking about Sweden, conversation flowed seamlessly between you. He seemed genuinely interested in your answers to the questions he asked, eyes always remaining firmly on you in a way that made your stomach flip but also steadied you in the otherwise loud room.

You were dragged from your conversation as the countdown to the New Year began.

“Damn, it’s almost midnight already?” you questioned, checking your watch that had long since been forgotten.

“Guess so…do you want to ring in the New Year together?” Will asked and you were surprised by the tentative tone of his voice. Your eyes rose to meet his and you noted the nerves showing in the crinkle of his eyes.

“Yeah, sure” you smiled, scootching closer to him. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t seem confident I’d say yes.”

“I mean I wouldn’t want to come in too hot, making assumptions—that would be embarrassing, no?” he joked as he wrapped a tender arm around your shoulders.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to make that same mistake twice in one evening” you teased back and you earned a rich laugh from him that made your toes curl and you dipped your head to hide your grin. As the countdown entered single digits, your eyes rose to meet his again but he was focused somewhere just beyond your shoulder before turning his attention back to you.

“3…2…1…Happy New Year!” the room erupted but your world had shrunk to just you and Willy. You had a sneaking suspicion it had been Auston who briefly grabbed his attention from you, which was confirmed as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cheek rather than going in for the kiss. You were disappointed until you felt his mouth brush your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

***

Once Will had given the bottle of wine and his thanks to Mitch and Stephanie for hosting, his eyes were scanning the room for you. He’d been kicking himself for months since meeting you for not getting your number on New Year’s but Auston’s stern stare had scared him off, as embarrassed as he was to admit it. He just hadn’t wanted to risk his friendship with his teammate, or worse, make you uncomfortable since you’d just met. Plus, the firm “If you hurt her, you’re dead to me” lecture Auston had given him the next day at practice had driven the point home.

So, some combination of your new job and Auston’s protectiveness had kept you away from any team, family, and friends get together’s until now, just as the regular season was wrapping up. Just as he had begun to give up hope that he’d see you again, Mitch mentioned that Auston had RSVP’d for 3 people, you and a plus one that he assumed was whatever girl Tony was currently seeing. Will didn’t waste another minute before confirming his own attendance.

His heart sped up as he saw you chatting with Johnny, your body language so much more relaxed than when he met you months ago. He made his way to you and when your eyes met his, the broad grin you sent his way knocked him out.

“Willy!” you called, standing to greet him with a warm hug.

“Hey, it’s been too long, how have you been?” he asked, pulling away just far enough to take you in. “You look beautiful tonight, of course.”

He was rewarded with a dip of your head as you hid your shy smile at his compliment, “I’ve been good, busy, so I’m glad Tony mentioned this dinner, it’s nice to see everyone.”

A long pause filled the air as he simply gazed into your warm, smiling eyes. “Hey Willy, I’m here too” his captain called from behind you and Willy laughed, greeting him with a handshake.

“Sorry man, it’s just been a minute since I’ve seen Y/N here” he shrugged sheepishly. John nodded, clapping him on the back, “Since New Year’s, yeah?”

Will shot him a questioning look but Johnny only smirked before walking off to chat with another group.

“Will, you’ve been having such an amazing season, I’m so happy for you” you smiled, settling back down in your seat and patting the spot next to you. He quickly sat where directed, pleased that the small couch made his outer thigh gently press into yours—he was even more content when you didn’t shift your leg away but closer to his.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Just trying to gear up for the Playoff’s now. How have you been, settling in well?”

As you two caught up with small talk, he wracked his brain on how to ask you out without making it weird in case you said no. This conversation flowed just as well as your first and your sly humor shone through even more now that you seemed more at ease.

“I’ve missed seeing you at other parties like this” he admitted when the conversation naturally lulled.

“I think Auston may have refrained from inviting me to a few” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “And then the last few just didn’t work with my schedule. I was happy when Ton mentioned you’d be here tonight though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful as his heart began pattering more intensely.

“Yeah” you grinned, knocking your shoulder into his. “I really enjoyed hanging with you last time.”

“Me too” he smiled, taking in the genuine joy on your face. “I was actually wondering…”

He trailed off as he saw your eyes shift behind him and widen. “Jake!” you called, standing up and waving over an unfamiliar guy who wrapped you in an embrace and quickly pecked your cheek.

“Hey pretty lady, sorry I’m a little late. The subway got delayed” he replied, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Is this Will?”

As introductions were made, Will’s heart sank as he realized your boyfriend was the plus one, not Auston’s girl. It looked like he’d missed his chance with you after all.

***

You worked your way through the crowd, pausing as people you’d grown close to since your move to Toronto stopped you to chat. Johnny and his wife were hosting the start of the season party, welcoming everyone back to Toronto after being wherever they called home in the off season. You were hoping Will would be here but had refrained from asking Auston to avoid his eye rolls and protective bullshit.

When you’d seen Will at that spring party, you couldn’t admit to him that you’d partially been avoiding him. Not because you didn’t like him, but the opposite—you’d felt so drawn to him on New Year’s only to have Auston insert himself in the middle of things. After enough time had passed, you’d finally let your coworker set you up on that blind date with Jake. Who was nice but had basically been wiped from your mind when you’d met Will’s eyes across the room that second night.

You’d let yourself get wrapped up in the press of his leg on yours, the intense focus of his eyes as you caught up. Had allowed yourself to slip into the flirtation that had flowed so naturally between you during your first meeting. Until Jake had arrived, and you’d noted Will deflate before excusing himself.

You’d seen him a few times since then but he kept a wide berth, which you understood. But it had sucked and drove home that as nice as Jake is, he wasn’t the one for you. Which is why, several months out from that split, you were determined to make your move on Will—enough with waiting.

You grabbed a drink and surveyed the room, heart fluttering as you heard Willy’s signature laugh from across the room. He was talking with a younger guy you didn’t recognize but you strode over anyway. “Will!” you called and he spun, wide-eyed, at your voice.

“Y/N?” he smiled uncertainly but you just pulled him into a tight embrace.

“How was your summer? Tell me all about Sweden” you grinned, quickly introducing yourself to the rookie beside him who made himself scarce.

“Sure, but you seem…different” he noted, scanning your form as if he could find the answer there.

“Do I? I mean, not much has changed except Jake and I broke up” you offered and his eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry?” he offered.

“Don’t be. He was nice but it just wasn’t it, you know?”

He nodded, eyes skimming around the room before pulling out his phone. “Here, let me show you some photos from back home.”

You leaned into the comfort of his warmth, your eyes either taking in each photo he selected to show you or tracing the familiar lines of his face as he swiped through his camera roll. He was just so beautiful.

“It looks like a great summer, are you bummed to be back?” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, I always love coming back to Toronto—this is home too” he replied, eyes boring into yours. You couldn’t help yourself as you reached up to sweep a strand of hair that had fallen into his face, your hand lingering there, cupping his cheek.

“Y/N…” he breathed and you were surprised when his eyes left yours to once again scan the room. His phone lit up, drawing your attention, just as he began. “I actually am…”  

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” you cut him off, drawing your hand back, eyes fixed on his lock screen—a gorgeous shot of him with a beautiful woman tucked into his side.

His gaze followed yours and he quickly locked his phone screen, mouth forming a hard line. “No, I’m sorry. I should have been up front but whenever I see you, I just…”

“You just what?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

“I can only think of keeping you close. Even when I know I can’t, so I’m sorry.”

You sadly shook your head forcing a smile, “No, I did the same thing to you, didn’t I? I get it. I hope she makes you happy Will, have a great season” you assured him, squeezing his shoulder before excusing yourself from the party altogether.

***

Will wasn’t one to believe in fate but it seemed like the stars may be finally aligning as he entered Auston’s apartment to celebrate New Year’s Eve. He’d done his homework this time, enlisting Steph to make sure you weren’t seeing anyone. After your last encounter, his fledgling relationship hadn’t lasted long—not when all he could think about was you. That wasn’t fair to her, so he’d broken things off and thrown himself into the season. It was a contract year for him, he had to focus. But that focus didn’t stop him from noting that some of his best games were ones where he knew you’d be in the crowd.

Will wandered over to the large windows filling Ton’s living room, taking in the city skyline. He’d done a few laps but had yet to see you. Truth be told, he wasn’t in much of a party mood—he just wanted to see you. So, he wondered off from the main party down the hallway to what he knew to be Ton’s guest room for some quiet. He didn’t hear any noise from behind the door so he gently opened it, startling when he saw you curled up on the bed.

You hadn’t noticed the door opening, your head buried in a book with Taylor Swift playing softly from your phone. He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him—you, dressed to the nine’s, feet wrapped in fuzzy socks, eyes fervently scanning the pages before you, heels forgotten beside him by the door.

“Y/N?” he spoke softly, as to not startle you but you jumped anyway.

“Will?” you questioned, your head tilting to the side. “What are you doing here?”

“The New Year’s Eve party, silly, what are you doing locked away in here looking so beautiful?”

He was thrilled when you ducked your head, trying to hide the flattered smile that bloomed on your face. “Promise not to laugh.”

“Scout’s honor” he promised, settling on the foot of the bed.

“I’m on the last book of this fantasy series and I just wanted to make sure everyone got through the battle okay” you chuckled, holding up your nearly finished book. “I said hi to everyone but when I didn’t see you, I just wondered in here to try and finish it before midnight.”

“Well, is everyone safe and sound? I wouldn’t want to disturb you” he teased lightly and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I have like ten pages left” you chuckled. “I’ll come out and join the party in a few, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry” he shrugged, standing up but then stopped himself. “Would you actually care if I hung in here with you? I’m not in much of a party mood.”

“Sure” you beamed, scooting over on the bed to make room for him beside you. He slipped his shoes off, crawling up the bed to settle into your side, arm wrapped around your middle as you lifted your book.

“Is this okay?” he questioned quietly and you hummed in answer.

“Here, just lay down—that way I can rest my book on your shoulders” you motioned towards your lap and he didn’t have to be told twice, settling his head on your satin covered thighs.

A comfortable silence filled the room, broken only by you flipping the pages of your book. Will could stay this way forever, your scent wrapped around him, his breathing slowing to match your own.

As he began drifting off, you closed the book and set it aside. He felt your focus shift fully to him but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break this peaceful spell. He could have purred when your fingers gently ran through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp whenever your hand returned to the top of his head.

“I’m single” he murmured, nuzzling deeper into your lap.

“I know” you answered and he turned to look up into your eyes, confusion evident there judging by your chuckle. “I asked Stephanie.”

He let out a loud laugh, gently taking your hand in his own, “I may have done the same thing” he admitted, causing you to snort and shake your head.

“So, what does that mean?” you asked quietly.

“Hopefully, it means that when I ask you out, you’ll say yes” he questioned, nerves oddly not coming to his stomach. He knew how long you both had wanted this, the timing just never being quite right.

“Well, I can’t wait to say yes then” you smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his brow bone as your alarm rang from the nightstand. “Oh, time to get up, it’s 11:55.”

He shifted in response, sitting up and stretching, attempting to smooth out his shirt.

“Here” you offered walking towards him, heels firmly on your feet. He paused his fussing, allowing you to straighten his collar and smooth out the wrinkles that had developed on his chest. Your hand gently ran through his hair, settling down any stray hairs that had fallen out of place. “All better. Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect” he said honestly, rising off the bed and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. As you both exited the room, he marveled at how perfectly you fit there, tucked into his side.

The countdown had begun and Will’s eyes scanned the room, noting Auston immediately finding the two of you in the crowd.

“He’s intolerable” you mumbled, eyes also falling on Tony across the room. As the crowd counted down from ten, a giggle rose in his throat as you jokingly raised your middle finger to your cousin before turning back to him.

His hands settled on your hips, pulling you flush against him as your hands cupped his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. With the New Year beginning, your lips finally met his and he wound his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. As your mouths moved in perfect harmony together, the rightness of this moment settled around him.

As the crowd picked back up again, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“You have a game tomorrow, silly” you answered, chuckling. “But you can take me out the next night.”

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed! Please forgive any typos, I am in fact working through a concussion currently. It turns out writing for Willy has become one of my new favorite things to do. Always happy to hear feedback :)