#but i gave some to a neighbor in the elevator who seemed so friendly! and then i brought some to my cool neighbors i've barely talked to

[just-in-cays]

my coworker asked if i wanted some limes and i naively and foolishly said okay. he brought two entire grocery sacks of limes. 63 limes. sir why on earth do you think i, or anyone that is not a family of 18, would need 63 limes. 😐. like thank you but this does also feel a tad excessive

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 8.3K

paring: Bakugou x fReader

warning(s): oral(f! receiving), dirty talk, tit worship, slow soft sex that turns to rough sex, breeding, creampie. I think that's it, sex after a confession always leads to good fluffy sexy stuff.

authors note: well, this took longer than I was hoping for so I do hope it was worth the wait! I don't typically write Bakugou as I am never confident I can do him justice, but I do know how much everyone loves him (and I too find the dork just a lot of fun) - so to my Bakugou stans I hope I did good enough and I hope you all enjoy a surprisingly long fic of our favorite gremlin~🔮

You had meant to move about a month ago; you had gone through the whole process of finding the right apartment that fits your budget, was in a decent neighborhood, and was close enough to both yours and your friend's place of work. All that effort, months of it, was supposed to accumulate into one big celebratory day where you both moved all your things into your new home.

However, your family had other ideas. And thus, you were a helpless passenger flying between family members as they took their sweet time to say goodbye to you; unable to stop them from milking the melodramatics of your moving to a city so far away for who knows how long.

And your poor friend, who technically now was your roommate, had to move all her things by herself. To settle into a new place, routine, and life in a city also foreign to her, on her own. It was not the plan, but then again when did anything go according to plan for the pair of you? Despite her reassurance otherwise, you still felt awful about your false start.

But it wasn’t all bad. Your family gave you plenty of gifts to help kickstart your new adventure, items that would be more than helpful for living on your own and away from family and their abundance of resources. And your friend became quite friendly with the new neighbor.

Their meet-cute was something you missed while you were away visiting family. How he seemed to come to her rescue while she was struggling to get all her boxes up the four flights of stairs to the apartment - and of course, there was no elevator in the old building - how polite he was, how adamant that he help her out, how strong he was. All of it was something she gushed about to you on the phone that night, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with her.

Of course, it didn’t stop there. It seemed every day that led up to you finally moving into that place with your friend, she was on the phone with you talking about another encounter she had with the new neighbor. How he helped her bring her groceries up, helped her with building some of the new furniture sets you both bought, how he would come by to ensure she was okay - everything and anything. You knew basically all there was to know about the man before your friend even let you know his name.

Though you could understand why.

Kirishima Eijirou was a pro-hero after all, and despite being the friendliest one out there, he did want to uphold a semblance of privacy. It was only a few days before you moved in that you both found out his name and occupation; it was a bit of a surprise, but neither you or your roommate would blab about him to the media. After all, you were neighbors. If his privacy was to be infringed upon, yours would be too.

Besides, you didn't want to ruin the budding relationship that was forming between the two of them. If the media got involved, it would be ruined before it started.  So, you had no problem keeping your lips sealed tightly about it all.

You finally did meet Kirishima when you stumbled up the seemingly endless flights of stairs with your roommate, with the many boxes of your stuff. And you had to admit he was one of the sweetest, most infectiously friendly, men you had ever met in your life - and unlike your roommate, you took full advantage of the help he offered.

From there you got to enjoy the new bliss that was this adventure. Setting up your bedroom; adding decorations to the shared spaces; going grocery shopping for the foods you liked; and the overall fun you found, being in each other's company. This new routine was built of comfort, not the chaos you were previously used to; one you were happy to come home to. Though, that being said, you could never really find time to go out or socialize with your friend - at least not one-on-one anymore.

Kirishima was usually always there, greeting you with that same cheery smile whenever you emerged from your room in the morning to start your day. Whenever you came home from an errand or work, there he was on your couch cuddled up with your roommate. When you answered the door, there he was, greeting you with the same amiable demeanor.  You always returned the smile, always gave happy greetings back - again he was a nice guy - but after a few weeks of seeing him constantly, of becoming the (unwilling) third wheel to this honied new romance with your friend, it started to wear thin.

Bakugou could say the same.

All Kirishima could talk about was his new girlfriend. Bakugou couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he heard of their ‘chance encounter’ as if chance had anything to do with it - they lived next door. Their meeting each other was bound to happen, one way or another. And he couldn’t even begin to count the number of times the plans he made with his best friend were called off last minute for this girl.

It’s not like he wasn’t happy for Kirishima. He was glad to hear that after the hustle and grind that comes from their line of work, his best friend had finally started to date again. The pain caused by lack of privacy, and by lack of time to spend on romance or new relationships, in general, was no small thing. Bakugou knew that pain better than anyone… but this borderline obsessive, lurid behaviour Kirishima had towards his newfound relationship was starting to rub him the wrong way - the puppy love of it all made Bakugou want to gag.

And his best friend's new girlfriend had the worst roommate - bar none.

Bakugou could recall the awful encounter vividly. It was a Friday afternoon. He was on his way to start his evening patrol, walking over to Kirishima’s place as the redhead was to join him. But of course, Kirishima was not there, or at least he was not answering the door. After minutes of pounding and yelling, Bakugou figured the bastard was where he always was, at his girlfriend’s place. Stomping his way over, he barely had a chance to properly knock on the door before you swung it open - the look of utter annoyance and anger in your eyes as you looked up at him was something he would never forget.

“He’s not here.” That was all you said before slamming the door in his face.

Bakugou was never before left so stunned or speechless, at least not by an every day, quirkless, person, and he didn’t like it if the intentional stomping of his heavy boots and the huffing chest was anything to go by. Both Kirishima and his girlfriend got an earful about it when he finally managed to find them.

And to make matters worse, the next time he was to hang out at Kirishima’s place - to relax and unwind with a boy's night out - you were there. What was supposed to be a night getting drinks and letting go of all the stresses of their job turned into a movie night in - as that is what his girlfriend and you had planned, and Kirishima, unsurprisingly, wanted to join - forgoing the original plan, as if it was nothing. Bakugou visibly fumed in the doorway as he debated whether or not to join - with Kirishima convincing him of the latter.

And there he was, sitting on the opposite side of the couch from you, as the large single-use chair he wanted to sit in was occupied by Kirishima and his girlfriend. Bakugou truly wondered if he could resent his friend more than he did at that moment as he stared blankly at the screen before him - not bothering to even pay attention to the movie he was so rudely coerced into seeing. 

As the night neared its end, though, so did the height of that resentment. He watched from the corner of his eye as you scooted yourself a little closer to him; eyes shy and unsure as you gazed at his profile - Bakugou couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow in interest, eyes shifting to you and making you pause your movements.

“I want to apologize for the other day…” your tone was begrudging, he remembered that, as you began to explain your horrible behaviour when you both first met. How you had the worst headache and couldn’t get out of work, and the noise he was making caused you to snap. Bakugou simply shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgment after you were done, but that was all before his eyes moved back to the screen; yours followed suit after another beat with a nod of your head.

You thought maybe he had ignored your apology, given the dismissive way he regarded it, and you could not fault him for that. Nor could you fault his attitude towards you and the situation he was in that night, it was clear he had not wanted to waste his time watching a stupid movie a random stranger had picked out - you certainly didn’t want to if you had the choice. So, you simply chalked it up to him having a rough day and not wanting to deal with you and your silly excuses for your shitty behaviour.

But after that day, whenever he would be looking for Kirishima, you could barely hear his gently rapping at your door or the heavy boots as they walked across the hallway - a far cry from your first encounter.

In fact, most of your interactions with Bakugou were a light year from the initial two you had with him. You knew who he was, it was hard to ignore when his face was almost always plastered in the news or on screens in the city, and given what you could tell he was a bit brutish - standoffish and quick to anger - very much like how he was when you first had the pleasure of meeting him. It was supposedly a part of his charm, but you found nothing charming about it, that was until you extended that olive branch with your apology. The way he spoke to you after that, the softer tone - one that was almost hushed - always surprised you; it almost didn’t fit who he was but somehow you still liked it. You knew he did it because he was worried he might aggravate you, and your possible headache, further but it was the courteousness that made you start to warm up to him.

And Bakugou could say the same. He didn’t want to admit it, but you were fairly sweet - always apologizing when you would have to tell him his friend wasn’t there and giving him a fairly wise suggestion on where they might be; your tone and demeanor soft, always catching him off guard; as every time he knocked on your door he was expecting an incensed tone. And your eyes… Bakugou had always expected them to look cruel, to have the sharp hue they previously had when he first gazed into them. He was always surprised by how gentle they were, looking up at him. They continuously ambushed and captivated him, and he couldn’t stand it. He hated how pretty they were.

And it all just got worse from there.

At least that was how Bakugou saw it at first. He knew you probably did too, given the exhausted, almost fed-up expression you’d share with him whenever the pair of you crossed paths once more, in some shape or form, by the lovestruck pair. 

“I suppose misery loves company, and evidently, we seem to be her favourite kind.” you would murmur to him, in a mirthful tone, with a shrug of your shoulders before diverging paths in a fruitless, and endless, search to find - and subsequently, make sense of, - those lovesick two you call your closest friends. It wasn’t long before you found yourselves being dragged along on all the errands and lunches they had planned; being a forced pair to endure and join in on an afternoon or evening out for whatever they had planned.

“I don’t understand, why do they feel the need to invite us?” You would ask him, voice hushed as you both would walk a few steps behind them to avoid any ire from your complaining.

“As if I would know.” Bakugou scoffed, his ever-present scowl being turned in your direction “Not like I want to spend my free time here being a third party to their lovely bullshit.”

“Fourth party, I was here first” Your quick response would make his scowl soften, as you would smirk up at him; though it was only ever briefly as his gaze always made you shy “Maybe that’s why…”

“Why what?”

“Why they drag us along.” 

“Care to explain?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowing as he regarded your shrugging shoulders.

“You haven’t figured it out? And here I thought you were smart!” 

“You fucking brat.” Bakugou couldn’t help but playfully shove you away, a smile forming on his face as your soft giggles filled the air as you stumbled about to try and regain your footing “Come on, out with it.”

“I think the reason….” You began, trying to keep your voice down once more to avoid suspicion. “I think the reason they drag us along is that they feel bad. It sucks when you're alone around a couple, but it's more tolerable when there is someone else in the same shoes as you.”

“I mean, yeah sure… but why not just leave us alone? Why invite us in the first place?” he asked, eyes fixated on the couple ahead of him as they started to make their way into a popular café; the destination of this trip. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I guess, misery loves company. And we’re her favourite kind of company” Bakugou shrugged in a manner that was mimicking you.

“Oh, so you do listen to what I say!” You mocked, as you began to walk across the threshold of the café through the door Bakugou had opened “And here I thought nothing I said got through that thick skull of yours.”

Your giggles filled the air again as you felt his hand push at your shoulder causing your feet, and stride, to stumble as you tried once more to regain your balance - his herculean body shoving you away effectively stopping you from entering the café. The adrenaline rush of falling made your laughter even louder when you landed on the pavement; whether you were injured you couldn’t tell, you were too preoccupied at laughing at the man who had now closed to café door on you, watching through the glass as he muttered, with a smile, that you were a ‘fucking brat’.

~

Double dates, would be the most appropriate word for what followed, but you were always hushed and told differently when you would bring that word into play.

“I just want to see you get out of the house, to have some fun!” is what your roommate would defend with each time you griped and groaned at her for being forced into another ‘activity’

“You know, it would be nicer if it was just the two of us,” You’d shoot back, eyes glued to whatever task you were currently doing, knowing her puppy eyes were a weakness of yours. “Kirishima doesn’t always have to be there.”

“But he’s always so busy with his work!” She would pout, using that to her advantage as well, “It’s the only time I get with him! Please? You know how hard it is to find time with the both of you! Can’t you just come along, this will be the last time, I promise!”

She always said that. Always promised that this would be the last time you would be dragged along on another ‘outing’ that they had planned; last time she - they - would combine the need to hang out with a friend and go on a date. You would always sigh and agree to join, despite knowing the truth of the matter at hand, because…. well, she was right. Trying to find time to spare for both your social and romantic lives was difficult when you had to spend most of your time working so you could stay financially afloat.

Besides, you always had company. And Bakugou was slowly starting to prove to be your favourite kind of company.

He made being dragged along from event to event more tolerable. Whether that be having to help pick apples in a local orchard, or having to be a part of the standard photoshoot which followed, Bakugou made everything bearable. You couldn’t help but enjoy his snapbacks at Kirishima when being told to look or pose a certain way. His pained smile in every photo taken made you laugh so hard you could barely breathe.

Hiking and going to Farmer’s markets were tolerable too; you weren’t surprised that Bakugou was good at going uphill in uneven terrain; he was a prohero after all. But you were surprised, and grateful, at how good of a guide he was - always taking the lead so he could warn you of any possibilities to get hurt; lending a hand when needed without any sort of ire or condescension. And Sunday morning market runs turned into less of a chore when being guided to the best stalls, having someone hand pick the best items there, and having them use their fame to get you the best prices.

Traversing the many museums your roommate wanted to go to became quite the respite. Though you were perfectly fine splitting from the lovebirds and exploring on your own, it was nice to have a presence beside you; and you couldn’t deny how surprised you were whenever Bokugou would share with you a fact he knew about many of the exhibits you crossed.

And of course, traveling miles to see the country's largest aquarium was a real treat; one you suspected was a way for your roommate to apologize for always being dragged along to do the things she wanted to do. How you clung to her arm the whole time and dragged her (and the party) excitedly along to each giant tank to point out every marine animal that was housed there - rambling on and on about all you knew. And Bakugou, though he would tease that you were acting like a child, enjoyed seeing the way your face lit up again and again as you rambled on without a care; grateful you were never looking his direction, not knowing if he could live with the embarrassment of you seeing him look at you so softly.

Despite the forced proximity, you found a lot of enjoyment in spending your free time with that hotheaded man. And Bakugou could only agree that you made all these pointless so-called adventures convivial and worth giving interest to.

And those movie nights? The ones which were originally the bane of Bakugou’s existence? He found himself enjoying them the longer he stayed in your semi-forced company. He liked your commentary. He wanted to hear the little facts and details you’d point out as you mumbled into the popcorn you were trying to eat. He especially liked all the quick and smart jokes you would make on the more terrible movies that were chosen, knowing that his evening would actually be entertaining rather than tremendously painful to sit through. Over time, he longed to have you sit closer to him, to have you move from where you always sat at the other end of the plush couch to be right by his side. He yearned to feel your warmth against him, to hear what your whispers would sound like in his ear.

It was right where you belonged. That’s what he thought every time you would lean closer to him in some form or another; whether it was to move out of others' way, or to inform him of whatever thought crossed your mind. It’s where he wanted you to be.

Bakugou didn’t want to admit it, but he knew there was no way to deny it or try and convince himself otherwise, that he was starting to fall in love - or at least as close to love as he had ever experienced before - with you; that what started as him resentfully having to be around you morphed into something he was excited for; something he genuinely longed for.

But of course, his luck in romance was never as strong as it was everywhere else. And that unluckiness took, in this case, the form of his other prohero friends.

It was at the New Year's Party that they all held every year, a small get-together of close friends to celebrate another year together, and this year was Bakugou’s turn to host. And of course, Kirishima was going to bring his girlfriend; everyone was super excited after all to meet her. And Bakugou was hoping, though he would never admit it or ask, that you would be there too.

He couldn’t help the way his eyes lit up when you saw your figure enter his apartment, following behind the couple you came with; as you exclaimed a “Happy New Year!” towards him and the group your eyes were greeted with.

And he couldn’t help the way he bit his lip as his eyes raked over your figure. The outfit you were in, though it was cute - and in line with how you normally dressed - was a little more risque than normal; and he couldn’t help but wonder, all the blood in his body turning hot over the thought of, if you did it for him.

But things started to fall apart when Kaminari and Sero introduced themselves. You spent the whole night giggling and joking with them as if they were old friends. It was something that took Bakugou months to achieve, and yet, somehow, the pair managed to coax all of that out of you so easily. And your attitude, your presentation, was so unlike how you were with him. You were more demure than Bakugou had ever before witnessed. He’d never seen you act so shy, all bashful and blushing. It made his heart hurt and his blood to boil in anger as he watched it all, his whole night ruined by seemingly harmless interactions.

After that, both men started joining you whenever there was an outing - suddenly tables at restaurants were seating six instead of four. And his beloved movie nights, the one time and the chance he had you to himself - to be the only one so close to you -  were infiltrated with two extra bodies that sandwiched themselves between him and you.

He hated how endearing, and appealing, they were; and how it was working on you so effectively. Bakugou wasn’t a stranger to their lovable personalities - they were his closest friends for a reason. It was just, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to make you smile like that, to make and hear you giggle that obnoxious but cute giggle, to tuck your hair behind your ear and have you be unable to look him in the eye after, to have you fall asleep against him whenever the movie nights ran too long. All of it, he wanted to do all of it with you.

But he figured, maybe, he wasn’t the right man. 

Perhaps you were looking for someone more like Kaminari, who was spontaneous, adventurous, and fun-loving; who would take you on endless surprise dates, and have you guess on where it might be - always having it end up being the most fun you ever had. Someone to continuously, unabashedly fawn over you, and make you laugh at the dumbest things.

Or, maybe someone like Sero, who was so effortlessly charming no matter what he did. A partner who can make you both smile so brightly and have a blush burning your cheeks with one simple word. Someone who could make you feel like the most special person in the world with just a touch, who could pull you into a dance at just the right moment. 

Why would you ever want him? The loud, angry, brutish hero everyone saw him as?

Bakugou started to pull away. To slowly stop being a part of the so-called ‘outings’, or helping with errands, or coming by on movie nights. He began to focus all his attention back on his hero work like he did before he met you, to divert all of his time, energy, and focus back on his goal of becoming the best hero he could be, to attempt to erase you and the thoughts of domestic content out of his mind. To try and avoid you at all costs, to spare him the heartbreak you inadvertently caused whenever he looked at you. 

But he couldn’t avoid it forever - he knew that - the inevitability that he would need Kirishima, and subsequently have to go on a hunt to find him was always looming in the back of his mind; how it would ultimately lead to you. Bakugou knew the day would come, and it did, it just took longer than expected. He needed to ask Kirishima if he could cover a patrol shift for a hero who called in sick; and though Bakugou would take it in a heartbeat if he could, to avoid the possibility of you, he was off-field duty until he finished the mountains of paperwork from his last mission  - and he ran out of options.

He walked up to your door, that familiar off-white he had grown used to seeing, and made sure to rapt as gently as he could - like he always had - for your sake, as he waited for an answer; his breath caught in his throat, almost suffocating on the air from the awkward nerves that consumed him which came from showing his face after so long.

“Please don’t let her answer, please not her, please….” he pleaded like a mantra in his mind, but of course it was you, answering the door and greeting him with your usually soft surprise and beautiful eyes.

“Hi stranger, you just missed him.” You mumbled out, body leaning onto the open door you were half hiding behind “He left in a hurry, something about going on patrol to fill for another hero or…. Yeah”

There was a pause, and Bakugou knew you left it for him; knew that you wanted him to say something like a ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ or an acknowledgment of his lack of presence, lately. Instead, he began to turn away from you, unable to say anything, or be confronted any longer by your wide, sad eyes. 

“It’s been a while… “ You mumbled, starting the conversation again, not wanting him to leave, “You know… since I last saw you.”

“Yeah, been busy.” Bakugou shrugged, trying to play nonchalant, as he stepped away from your door.

“W-well-!” You blurted, your loud tone startling not only you but Bakugou, causing your head to bow sheepishly  “I-if you’re not busy or anything…. would you, um, like to come and join me for a movie?”

“A movie?” Bakugou asked, a smile briefly twitching on his lips over your behavior and invitation.

“Well, yeah. It’s Friday and normally everyone is either here or at Kiri’s for our usual movie night, but tonight it’s just me. And… and…. I-I’m really hoping you’ll join me…”

You were fiddling with your fingers, a nervous habit you had when you were unsure of something, or wanted something you didn’t know if the other person would want too. And how was Bakugou supposed to say no to that?

“What movie?” He grumbled, trying his best not to be affected by the bright smile that overtook your face as he further pushed through your door to enter your apartment.

“I-I haven’t picked yet, don’t really know what kind of mood I’m in, ya know? You, um, can choose what you like!” The last bit of your sentence was harder to hear as you went into the kitchen to get some more snacks and another drink for your newfound company.

“Where is everyone?” Bakugou asked, plopping down on your couch, as he began to fuss with your remote, and its less-than-responsive connection to your TV, to boot up your streaming service.

“Well… my roomie is out of town to visit her family; it’s her mom’s birthday.” You gave a smile as you began to set the items in your down on your small coffee table.

“What about Sero and Kaminari?”

You paused your motions for a brief moment, not expecting them to be brought up before you shrugged “I’m not sure, I haven’t really seen them much lately either - probably scared them off, you know how I get some days.”

“You’re not that bad.” Bakugou scoffs, trying his best not to be affected by your mirthful smile “What kind of movie do you want? Good or bad?” 

“Uh… a bad one. It's been a tough week and I could use a laugh” You smiled before settling in on the couch beside him and handing him a drink; a bowl of popcorn nestled in your lap.

The silence settled over you both as the movie began to play; the sounds of its action and dialogue broken only by whenever you decided to share some of your commentary on the plot, and tell your jokes, varying degrees of laughs over it all. Before long, Bakugou couldn’t help but join in; as if the month spent apart never happened, and you both fell back into that blissful comfort you had built up, enjoyed, and so grieved in its absence. 

“I missed you.” You whispered out as the movie’s credits began to wash over the screen; it was so faint, yet Bakugou heard it like thunder in his ears, as his bewildered eyes fell on you.

“What?”

“I missed you. Things aren’t really the same, or as fun without you around…” You mumbled a little louder, unable to bring yourself to look at him during your confession; the silence returned, falling upon you, much like the night you first apologized to him - it crushed and consumed you as it did then, causing you to change the subject.

“You wanna watch another one?” You leaned forward to grab the remote, passing it over to him “Cause we can! You can put on one of your favourites, I know you’ve been trying to show some of them to me for a while.”

“Sure.” was all he could muster as he grabbed the control to play yet another movie. Trying his best to not be affected by the leaning of your body into his side once the opening scene began to play.

There was less talking this time, Bakugou knew it was because you were sheepish over your little confession, and his lack of response to it, and just wanted to hide. And he just didn’t know what to say, was never good at easing situations like these. Though after a while the silence became more palatable as you both gazed at the screen ahead. Though that tentative peace was disrupted when your arms snaked between his arm to encase it in a weird sort of hug.

“H-hey!” He didn’t mean to jump, or try and pull away at what you did, but he couldn’t help but be startled by it “What’s this all about, huh?”

“N-nothing, I’m sorry, I’ll just stop…” you began pulling away, and though you tried hard to mask it, the warble in your voice still came through.

“Don’t stop.” Bakugou spoke firmly, fully turning towards you and holding your shoulders to keep you in place so you could hide or run from him “Just tell me why you’re acting like this. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothings wrong!” You began, the tears in your eyes welling and blurring your vision “I just really really missed you, okay?”

“No, not okay! Why are you crying, I doubt you missed me so much over that.”

“I’m… I’m worried you don’t like me anymore… that I did something to make you hate me.”

“I’m not mad at you” Bakugou sighed, shoulders losing all tension as he gazes down at you “Or hate you. Just really busy with hero work right now.”

“That’s not true,” you sniffled, though the firmness in your voice and the stern look in your eyes as you gazed back at him, caused him to almost flinch “That’s not true, and you know it. Hero work didn’t make you suddenly get up and leave one day, didn’t make you just stop wanting to be around me, or talk to me. So, why did you?”

“Because… because… I… I just…” Bakugou began, trying to find the right words but unable to get his tongue to form any of them.

“Bakugou, please, just be honest with me!” You exclaimed, eyes pleading with him to just say anything, trying to push away from him in your anger, but to no avail; his grip on your shoulders just got stronger.

“I like you okay!” He finally managed to blurt out “But of course, you didn’t notice with stupid fucking Kanimari and Sero taking all of your goddamn time lately! And how they began hogging you, how was I supposed to react, huh? Was I supposed to be okay with them being so fucking friendly? To have them make you smile and laugh that stupid laugh yah have and make yah so fucking happy when that’s all I wanted to do! I like yah a lot, but I figured with all of this it meant you didn’t like me back, so I just fucking went away, okay?

“You’re such an idiot.” You whispered after an almost stunned pause, shaking your head as you gazed at him, watching as his chest rose and fell rapidly while he tried to regain his breath.

A giggle bubbled up your throat as you bit your lip to hide the smile crossing your face, eyes still glued to the clueless man in front of you; watching as his brows began to furrow even further in anger over your response. He never did get to voice a syllable of his anger before your lips pressed to his, your hands coming to cup the side of his face to pull him a little closer - a little deeper - into the kiss.

You pulled away far too quickly for Bakugou’s liking as his lips tried to follow yours; you giggled again at him, and he finally opened his eyes to look down at you, his smile mirroring your own when you whispered out “I like you too.”

This time, he kissed you, his smile could be felt against your lips at your confession; overjoyed that his feelings were actually reciprocated. It didn’t take long before the movie was forgotten over the mutual want, and need, to make up for the lost time. Bakugou quickly took control; tilting your head back, cradling your neck, and keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss - taking the lead and dominating it with a satisfied hum.

And how quickly those soft, sweet kisses, with little giggles and murmurs of sweet nothings in between when your lips parted, turned into something headier; heavier as the two of you grew louder. The smacking and sucking of lips as they continuously connected felt frantic as the minutes passed like nothing, saliva coating your chins as you both refused to part - to catch even one breath. Your hands wandered down his chest, pulling him by the soft cotton fabric of his t-shirt to hover over you as you shifted to lay fully down on the soft cushions.

The change in position is what finally snapped Bakugou back into reality, out of his spell your soft lips had lured him into, as he finally pulled away from the kiss; tugging your hair gently to stop you from trying to chase after another as he did his best to dull the burning ache in his lungs.

You weren’t making it easy for him though, arching your back to snuggly press your chest to his as you stared up at him with those lust-filled eyes, making his body grow hot and pants tighten as you begged him to “Please don’t stop.”

“You sure you wanna do that, beautiful?” He masked his shaky, broken, breath with a hum and he nudged his nose with yours. “Think you’re ready for all that?”

“Of course, I am.” Your bottom lip sticking out in a pout “More than ready! Please, Katsu?”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know that?” Bakugou sighs out, lips attacking yours once more as his hands move to hike up your legs so his knee can slide, and rest, between them.

The resulting gasp that leaves your lips when you feel his knee press up against your cunt is met with a chuckle as he begins to travel his hot kisses across your cheeks and down your neck; tongue lavishing the smooth skin he finds there, marring it with small nips and sucks as he calloused hands wandered underneath your sweater; your skin jumping at the newfound friction as he slowly began dragging the fabric upwards and off your body.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps when it met the cold air, though you really couldn’t mind when he followed suit, his gloriously chiseled chest - one you knew took years to build - was before your eyes and at your fingertips. Bakugou allowed you a moment to drink it all in, to get your fill, before nudging your curious hands away in favour of resuming the task at hand.

His lips trailed over your newly exposed, supple flesh, down the valley between your breasts, and inhaling the scent of your skin and his rough palms began to roll and squeeze at your mounds through the soft cotton bra you decorated them in.

It all felt so heavenly, and though your heart swelled at the fact, and thought, that he was willing to go slow for your sake, it just wasn’t enough for you, if the small whimpers and wiggling of your hips were any indication. You needed, craved, more of his touch.

“Katsu, please!” You finally whined, body too hot to lay comfortably still or endure this slow torment anymore. “Stop going so slow, I need more!”

Your complaint ended with a strangled cry as you felt his teeth sink harshly into your hardened nipple, the fabric doing nothing to dull the ache.

“Stop whining…” He grumbled out, voice low as his teeth tug once more at the abused bud, before letting it go “Been waiting a long time for this, and I’m gonna do it right, ya hear? So just lay back and let me do what I want.”

You merely let out a whimper and nod in response, his chuckle and mummer of ‘good girl’ going straight to your core and he continued his adoration of your chest; the latches of your bra finally slacking as he removed the only barrier between your sensitive skin and his warm breath. His lavishing turned more aggressive as he began to nibble, kiss, nip, and tug at the supple flesh - leaving his marks wherever he saw fit - with your moans and mewls spurring him on further.

“What did I say?” Bakugou growled, hands shoving your wiggling hips back down onto the couch.

“I can’t help it!” You sob, hands coming up to tug at his hair in frustration “Just wanna feel more of you, wanna feel you inside, please!”

“God, baby,” He groaned, head ducking down against your chest to try and regain the resolve he just lost; shaking his head after a moment, shushing you with a kiss before you could whine once more,  “Not yet… but promise I’ll make you feel good, give you want you want, okay?” 

Without another word, Bakugou swiftly pulled both your sweats and panties down your leg; baring your bottom half to him and the heady air of the room you were in, kissing one of your calves while settling your legs to sit comfortably on his shoulders. His thumb began tracing up and down your wet folds as he marveled at the sight.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby…” He whispered out, his other thumb joining to spread you open further, enjoying the way your thighs jumped as his hair tickled them as he leaned in close for a better look “So, so, pretty.”

He wasted no further time before confidently swiping his tongue up and down your glistening cunt; relishing in the broken moan you let out when his tongue began circling your clit; all restraint leaving him when your hands tugged at his hair as his lips finally wrapped around your little button, sucking mercilessly.

He was utterly filthy with the way he ravished your cunt, the amount of spit he gathered between his mouth and your pussy as he abused your poor clit with onslaughts of tongue flicking, was obscene as his slurping could be heard over everything else in the room as he tried to taste more of your sweet juices. He watched your pretty head thrash from side to side, and listened to you wail as he dragged his tongue up your fluttering hole, just to shove himself deep inside you.

You were losing your mind to the pleasure, your hips unable to stay still as your moans and cries of pleasure were released unabashedly like a mantra to the gods above; nails digging harshly into the pillows nearby and your lover's scalp as you tried desperately to ground yourself, to little avail, as you begged and whined for him to let you cum.

Your sounds were beautiful, and Bakugou couldn’t deny, they were certainly doing something to his ego, but they were also going straight to his cock, twitching and aching for you, uncontrollably. And if he wanted to avoid a noise complaint, and not cum in his pants like a teenager, he had to do something.

“Stop squirming!” Bakugou groaned, pinning your hips once again within his iron grip “Told you to stop it, you brat”

“M’sorry,” you hiccuped, thighs twitching and squirming over the need to gain some of the lost stimulation “I’m… M’just close, wanna cum.”

“You will, baby,” Bakugou hummed, arm stretching across your body to have his fingers tap at your lip “Open wide, and suck on these like a good girl, okay?”

You do so without a word. Lips part to accept two of his thick digits into your waiting mouth; tongue swirling almost instantly as you hollow your cheeks, he could feel the gentle vibrations of your moans when the pads of his fingers pressed down on your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Bakugou groaned, the sight alone almost made him come undone, as he leaned back down to continue what you so rudely interrupted.

You did as you were told, sucking so diligently on Bakugou's fingers as he continued to push you over the edge; moaning, though muffled, was constant as you tried to maintain a rhythm. - afraid that he might stop again.

Not that Bakugou would. You were driving him wild, and now he wanted nothing more than to make you cum; first on his face, and then on his cock. Talking between breaths about how pretty your pussy is, how good you were, how he’s gonna stretch you open, all while fucking you with his tongue; his sucking and slurping filling the air in between his words. All this while trying to keep his composure from the sight of your debauched face messily sucking his fingers to keep quiet; feeling your drool run down his wrist. 

It didn’t take long. Bakugou’s words, sinful tongue, and moans against your cunt made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, causing you to let out a strangled cry as your toes curled and thighs twitched - doing their best to crush his head as he continued to slurp and suck your cunt; cleaning you up; hands pinching and squeezing at your hips to try to soothe your shaking body.

“You think you’re ready for more, babygirl?” Bakugou asked voice strained as his hands began frantically fumbling with his belt “Ready for me, baby?”

“Y-yes… ah-!” Your cry ended with a small whimper as you felt Bakugou slap the tip of his cock against your puffy clit

“You sure?” He teased, tone mocking your own as he slots his heavy cock between your folds; chuckling at the way your twitching little hole tries to suck him in “Want me to fuck you?”.

“Yes, please! I want you so bad, only want your cock, want it to fill me up, want it so bad, please!” 

“So fucking needy…” Bakugou cursed, slowly pushing his thick cock head into you, gritting his teeth at just how tight you were for him “But so fucking good.”

His hips meet yours with a snap, causing you to cry out as tears cling to your lashes; not used to the feeling of being so full. His hand, still wet with your drool, pinches your cheeks together slightly to force you to look back at him.

“Eyes on me, got it?” He commands, though gentle in tone, waiting for you to nod your head before pulling out to thrust into you again.

His pace is deliberate, thrusting into you slowly, deeply, hitting every spot that makes you see stars; your mind still a little hazy, and body still too sensitive from the most recent orgasm, as your muscles jump and twitch at every drag of his heavy cock as you cling to him. Moaning his name as your nails dig into his back, watery eyes doing their best to stay on him as your face heats in embarrassment and blood rushes to your ears; barely able to hear the groans that pass his bitten red lips.

Bakugou was relishing, savoring, the feeling of your walls clamping down on him, milking him as he watched those tears threaten to fall from your beautiful eyes as you gaze up at him; your hot breath mingling with his own as your lips brushed his with every heavy thrust in, tempting him to lean down to connect them fully.

As heavenly as it was; you need more, more, more.

“Katsuki, more please!” You sighed, pulling him into a brief kiss to entice him further. When your request was met without change; his pace still agonizingly slow, your lips formed that familiar pout. “Come on Katsu, faster! You said you would fuck me!”

“You want me to fuck you, hah?” Bakugou growled, sitting up to push your legs into your chest, not bothering to care that his nails were digging into your skin “I’ll fuck that pretty little cunt until you’re screaming my name until you’re begging me to cum inside you.”

Each of his words was emphasized by a rough thrust of his hips, each drag of his length against your inner walls so perfect, making your eyes flutter and threaten to shut from the intense pleasure. His muscles rippled from the increased speed as his hips met yours, again and again, making sure his pelvis bullied your clit with each forward motion; cock burying itself even deeper inside you and hitting that spongy spot in your aching cunt that made you gush - soaking his coarse pubic hair and making a mess of you both.

Your cries of his name and tears of pleasure were met with mocking whenever you wailed out that it was too much; his rough tone growled at you to, “take his cock, like the good little brat you are.”

“Yeah, you wanted harder, so you fucking take it.” He snarled, pushing your legs even closer to your chest; lifting you higher as his balls pressed firmly against the curve of your ass; cock buried inside you to the hilt as his tip kisses your cervix. “M’gonna fill you up with my cum, n’you’re gonna keep it all in this sloppy pussy, yeah?”

“Y-yeah…” You mumbled with a nod, eyes glossy as your walls twitch around him.

“Good fuckin girl.” 

His grip tightens as his pace picks up to an even more brutish one, heavy cock bullying its way into you to pound that spongy sweet spot to make you gush and squirm for him. He was so close and wanted nothing more than to feel you sweet cunt milk his cock for all it was worth.

Your eyes finally closed due to the surmounting pleasure and pressure in your core; eyes rolling back once more as your nails raked down his back, leaving angry, red lines in their wake, and causing Bakugou to hiss in pain and pleasure. Wailing out his name one final time before cumming, hard; whimpering in overstimulation of the final few thrusts it took before Bakugou finally filled you up.

The weight of Bakugou’s body was comforting as he lay atop you; peppering kisses along your chest and neck as you both tried to recover from such intense pleasure. You pulled his head from your neck to press your lips to his in a final, and much needed, sweet kiss.

“You okay?” Bakugou whispered, eyes scanning her face for any signs of pain or discomfort, singing in relief when you nodded your head.

“Sorry I made us miss the movie” You giggled breathlessly, turning your head to the TV and watching the credits scroll across the screen.

Bakugou smirks, grinding his hips against yours and making you gasp “We can miss another one if you want.”

[vividwritinglove]

next door II - a Pierre Gasly series

YOU ARE AMAZING! I am living for your feedback and I reward you with another part of this series!

pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

warnings: just some sexual tension

word count: 1.5k

————————————————————————

The breakfast turned into a brunch. There was so much to talk about and Pierre seemed to be really interested in you. And since he was so talkative about his life before, you decided to tell him more about your interests or your family and friends.

"I need to give you a compliment for the interior of this apartment. When I moved in, it didn’t look like this after only a couple of weeks. It actually took me months!"

"Well it’s my job.." you answered quietly not to sound pretentious.

"You're an interior designer?!"

You just nodded and took a bite from a big and juicy strawberry. Pierre got a little distracted how your full lips wrapped around that sweet berry. It amazed him, how you made the most normal thing, like eating fruits, look so sensual. He was not able to take his eyes off your lips and imagined how they would feel on his.

"You good?" you asked, a little worried, since there was no reply from Pierre, and he seemed a little lost. He was lost, lost in you. He shook his head a little and ran his fingers over his mouth, "Yeah, yeah. I was just lost in thoughts. Sorry!".

He brought up your job again and wanted to know everything about it and the projects you already had done.

He even asked you to help him find a lamp for over his dining area – since he moved in, he hadn’t found the right fixture and was using a plain bulb instead.

You couldn’t help yourself and had to smile throughout Pierre’s vision of the perfect lamp. His storytelling and gestures impressed you, and you soaked in every little detail.

He would’ve never thought of having a conversation about light fixtures with his extremely attractive neighbor.

To be honest, he had other things in mind when he first saw you. That first shy look you gave him, when he was stepping into the elevator – it was manifested in his head. And since then, there wasn’t a day he was not thinking about you at least once.

Every time he met you, you gave him this beautiful and stunning smile, that made his heart skip a beat.

Talking to you felt so easy. You were a woman that knew what she wanted and probably knew how to get it. You’re independent. That made him even more attracted to you, because it felt like a hunt. He was not used to chase after women, usually they threw themselves at him. This was new and refreshing.

The two of you were interrupted by Pierre’s phone ringing, "Sorry, I have to take this."

He didn’t stand up from the table. It felt strange to you, how open he already was around you.

"Hey Pyry!" he answered the phone, smiling at you. You instantly smiled back.

"I am at y/n's." That sounded awkwardly natural.

"Wait!" now he stood up, walked straight to your apartment door and opened it.

Slightly confused, you watched him and also stood up, as soon as another man entered your apartment. He was taller than Pierre and also more muscular. It turned out to be his performance coach. They greeted each other with a hug.

"And you must be the famous y/n!"

"Famous?" you laughed and looked back to Pierre, who gave his coach a hit with his backhand against the chest.

Pyry didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the protest of the younger athlete, "He talks about you all the time since you moved in!”.

Pierre sighed, closed his eyes and pinched his bridge of the nose with his thumb and index finger. He was clearly annoyed by him.

"I am just here to pick this lazy ass up for training!"

"Feel free to do so!" you smiled at him friendly.

"It was nice meeting you. Until next time!"

And with that, he was already out the door. Pierre and you looked after him.

"I am sorry to leave like that. I completely forgot about the training.." Pierre apologized and scratched the back of his head, "What are your plans for tonight?

"Nothing planned until yet."

"Oh Good. Maybe we can go to this nice little restaurant..”

"Hurry up, Casanova!" you heard Pyry pushing from behind.

"Is he always like that?" you asked and chuckled a little.

"Most of the time."

You two shared another smile.

"Come on, Pierre! This will bring you some extra push-ups!" his coach seemed to get more impatient by any second.

"Alright. Alright. Pick me up at 7!” you agreed, so that Pierre wasn’t embarrassed by his coach in front of you anymore.

Pierre smiled at you thankfully and hurried out of your apartment.

The moment your apartment door closed, you regretted that decision. What have you done? The last thing on your mind was to go out with a man.

Pierre was nice and really handsome, without a doubt, but dating was currently not on your agenda.

Slowly you started to clear up the table and did some household tasks over the afternoon. You considered whether and how you could cancel that "whatever you want to call it" with Pierre later. You don’t have his phone number, and he wouldn’t be home until the evening. Canceling short notice was not your style and also you don't want to mess up with him either. After all, you will always run into each other, when he will be in Milan and what should he think since you got along so well this morning. Even though you are desperately trying to look for a good reason to cancel, there isn’t one. It just wouldn’t make sense!

Now you’re standing in your walking closet in front of a big mirror – freshly showered, hair dried and make up already done – trying to figure out what to wear. Nothing too sexy or revealing, for sure. You definitely didn’t want to send wrong signals and it was still winter.

Due to the coldness, you chose a long body-con dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck and some knee-high boots.

You just put up your hair in a high ponytail as you heard someone knocking on your door.

Before you opened the door, you grabbed your purse, coat, and scarf.

And there he was greeting you with a cute smile, showing off his tooth space again. You couldn’t deny that you had a thing for it.

"Very on time!” You greeted him and walked with him towards the elevator. He was wearing a coat as well, under that a shirt that was partially unbuttoned. Revealing his chest hair and the gold necklace again, which had a cross attached to it. You couldn’t explain it to yourself, but this was an extreme turn on for you.

The elevator ride was long, at least it felt to you that way. Pierre was standing closer as usual to you and he radiated so much heat. His cologne was strong, but the smell was seductive. You pulled on your turtleneck to get some air, and a small sigh left your mouth.

This action was not unnoticed by Pierre. He was having this effect on you again and he loved it! A triumphant smile caresses his lips.

You always looked good – you knew how to dress – but tonight he liked your style even more. It gave him major Milano vibes, classy and sexy. He was not able to take his eyes off you and your body. Even though you tried not to look seductive, this dress hugs your body like a second skin.

The only way to break this almost bearable tension between the two of you, was for you to put on your coat. Pierre instantly helped you – his manners and awareness impressed you. Something you wouldn’t expect from a guy in his mid-twenties.

But Pierre didn’t want this tension to come to an end. He stayed in his role.

"How was training?” you asked, to get a conversation going.

"Good." he simply answers, but his voice sounded raspy and in combination with his French accent, it made a shiver ran down your spine, "Also a little exhausting."

You directly had a sweaty Pierre in mind, and it made you press your legs together.

Why was he able to drive you that crazy? And since when did you feel intimidated by a man you barely even knew. This was insane. You are confident and proud, and it was more than time to show him that.

You met his gaze and hold the stare he had on you this whole elevator ride. The eye contact didn’t make you nervous, it made you calm. His ocean eyes had a calming effect on you. Pierre liked your new gained confidence and he wanted to go further. He leaned into you and you felt his breath on your Cupid’s bow. In the same moment, the elevator doors sprang open and it made you two move apart from each other.

Part III

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Odd Hours//Getting Even

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Cursing; Fluff; slow burn but not nearly as slow as my usual slow burns. Notes: This is uh... I don’t know, I’ve had the idea kicking around in my head for a while. Also please excuse the film trivia. I will take any excuse to talk about The Man Who Came to Dinner. I couldn’t decide on which title would suit better so I named it both. Not beta-read. Summary: You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times. 

Your new neighbor looked very put together all of the time. Well… The couple of times that you’d seen him in passing. He was always in a suit, his tie was always straight, and his hair was always coiffed so neatly. You just assumed that he looked that good all the time. You’d seen him with a beard once, and then the next time you’d seen him, he was clean-shaven. He was gorgeous both ways, but that beard… Fuck, it had looked good. You’d never spoken to the guy before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

-- The first time you spoke to him was evidence of that. It was almost three in the morning. You’d just gotten off of work at one of your jobs at a bar. You stifled a yawn as you stepped off of the elevator and fished into your pocket for your keys. You managed to dislodge something on your way, but you didn’t notice. At least, not until you heard: “You dropped this.” You turned to see your neighbor holding out the foldable reusable bag you tended to keep in your pocket. “Oh!” You reached out, smiling, “Thank you-- I didn’t even notice.” “Sure,” He nodded, “We haven’t met, I’m in 5B.” “5A,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to your door. “Marcus Pike,” He held his hand out to you, and you shook it, giving him your name. “Long night?” You asked, and he chuckled, nodding. “Very.” The two of you linger for a moment longer before you nod over your shoulder, “I’ve got a couple of hungry cats to get to, so.” “Right,” Marcus nodded. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” You ducked into your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind yourself. You flicked the living room light on and tossed your keys into the bowl beside the door. You stepped further inside, smiling at the sight of your two Siamese cats, Princess and Pyewacket. They lifted their heads from where they were both lounging on the couch. “I met our neighbor,” You told them. Pyewacket got up, stretching before jumping off of the couch and following you into the kitchen. “Yes, he seemed very nice,” You answered the cat’s unasked question as you reached down, scratching his chin above the black moon and star patterned collar he had on. Princess slinked into the kitchen behind him, a matching pink collar around her neck. “And hello to you, too,” You murmured, “Let’s get you fed.” -- The next run-in was almost two weeks later. It was nearly noon, and you were coming off of your other job at a bookstore nearby. You ran into Marcus as he was leaving his apartment, and your brows rose. “Hi there,” he greeted, smiling. “Hey,” You shift your bag on your shoulder as you twirl your keys around your finger. “How are the cats?” You laughed a little, nodding, “They’re good. I won’t say they were happy to see me, but I fed them, so they tolerated my existence for another day.” You eyed his pristine-as-usual-suit. “Heading to work?” “Yeah, just came off of a late night. I actually just kinda...Came back to shower and change,” He absently swept his hand over his tie. “Oh, yikes,” Your brow furrowed, “What do you do?” “I work for the FBI, International Art Theft.” Your brows rose. “Wow.” “Surprised?”

“A little,” You admitted as you walked to your door, “I had my money on your being a lawyer.”

“Really?”

You lean back against your door, waving at him, “It was the suits.” 

He chuckled, “I should get going-- as long as you don’t have any stolen art in there.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?” You teased, shooting him a wink, “Have a good day, Agent, and uh-- try to get some sleep at some point.”

--

It wasn’t every day that you got a knock on your door at two in the morning. Your hackles were immediately up, and you were quiet and careful as you crept toward your door. You peered through the peephole, frowning at the sight of Agent Pike-- And one of your cats. You hurriedly flicked your light on and opened the door. “Is, uh, this one of yours?”

“Pye,” You groaned, reaching out to take Pyewacket out of Marcus’ arms, “I’m sorry-- sometimes he slips out when I come in, and-- He’s such a weirdo, he always waits right out here.” You cuddled him close to your chest, smiling a little as Pyewacket pushed his head up against your chin. “Thank you,” You added, scratching Pye under the chin, “I hope he didn’t bug you.” “No, he was pretty friendly.” Your brows rose. That was rather unlike Pyewacket. “I’ll be honest, I was a little surprised to see you holding him-- Though that was more because, you know.” “It’s like two in the morning?” Marcus asked. You laughed, nodding. “Another late night for you, Agent?” “Slightly,” Marcus admitted before reaching out and scratching Pyewacket under the chin, “But I appreciated the welcoming committee.” You smiled, glancing down at the cat as Marcus’ fingers brushed yours. “Well, I’m glad Pye could be of assistance.” “‘Pye’?” Marcus repeated, leaning in your doorway, “Like the food?” “Oh, no. It’s short for Pyewacket,” You explained, shifting the cat in your arms. “Like in Bell, Book and Candle with uh-- Kim Novak and Jimmy Stewart?” He asked. You blinked up at Marcus in surprise. “Uh… Yeah,” You nodded, and laughed, “Sorry, just-- Most people don’t know that.” “I’m a fan of classic movies. --Who���s this?” Marcus looked down.

You followed his gaze, laughing, “Someone that was feeling left out. That’s Princess,” You smiled. You took a little bit of a step back as Marcus crouched down to pet her. You were suddenly acutely aware that you were in your pajamas and Marcus was still very...very suited. You couldn’t help but grin as he cooed over Princess, though. “I’m not gonna lie, you strike me as a dog guy,” You admitted. “Oh,” Marcus scooped Princess up, cradling her against his chest, “I do like dogs, don’t get me wrong, but my grandmother had a cat-- big fluffy Persian named Chester.” You were quiet for a moment, watching Marcus and Princess before you glanced into your apartment. “Do um--” You hesitated, “Do you wanna come in for a drink or something?” Frankly, standing across from a cute guy as you each held one of your cats had to be the weirdest way you had ever asked a man into your place. But it wound up with you and Marcus on your couch with a beer each having a shockingly nice conversation. You didn’t keep him long - you could tell it had been a long night for him and you didn’t want to keep him late - not to mention you had come off of a shift at the bar and you were pretty tired yourself.

Pike was out of there by 2:45 (though you’d gotten his number in your phone and yours in his by 2:42). Pyewacket trotted after him to the door. Marcus gave him one last scratch under his chin, one last look at you before he murmured, “Goodnight.”

--

Smitten was not the word you would use.  It was what you were, but you wouldn’t admit it. Hell, you barely knew the guy, had only met him a couple of times. But he seemed sweet-- and your cats liked him, that was a good sign. 

You tried not to reflect on the fact that that thought made you sound like your Great-Aunt Cecily.

You held off on using Pike’s phone number for about two weeks. Then one night, around 10:30, in the middle of a William Powell marathon on TCM, Pyewacket jumped off of your couch and trotted over to the front door. You frowned, watching him and muttering, “What the fuck, dude?” before you heard the jingling of keys. You smiled when you realized why he’d gotten up - and went out on a limb as you pulled your phone out and texted Pike:

-Either you just got home or the ghosts in the hallway are bothering my cat again

You raised your phone, snapping a quick picture of Pyewacket at the door before sending it off. You glanced down at the lone messages in the chat before you closed it, tossing your phone onto the couch cushion beside you. It didn’t stay there long, though-- it buzzed a moment later.

5B: You’ve got a great alarm cat

5B: Just how often do the ghosts in the hallway bother Pyewacket?

5B: And how many ghosts are we talking?

-Like once a week, they’re very mean to him.

-And at least two ghosts, I’m convinced

You put your phone down, figuring that that would be the end of it. You were wrong. 5B: They bug Princess, too?

-Nope, they don’t dare. No one fucks with Princess

-How’s work?

5B: Busy.  -Long day?

5B: Excruciatingly

-Sorry 😞

You winced, resting your head on your hand and considering.  Why did you use an emoji? You raised your phone and snapped a picture of Princess where she was curled up on your lap.

-You could take Princess with you next time if it’ll help?

5B: Might take you up on that. I’d prefer not to be fucked with tomorrow

You smiled. -I’ll see what I can do about a leash

5B: Very kind of you

-Anytime

--

5B: Okay, I don’t wanna be weird, but I feel like almost every time I come in around dinner time, whatever you get or are making smells delicious

You looked down at your phone as it buzzed and chuckled, picking it up from where you’d left it on the counter. 

-Not weird. Not to brag but I’m kinda the slow-cooker queen

You glanced at the slow-cooker, and the timer reading fifteen minutes left on the food you were making. It was a large batch - you’d wanted to have enough so that you could bring lunch to work at the bookstore. But there was enough to spare. You hesitated before texting,

-Hungry? 

--

Marcus brought wine, and stayed for three hours. The two of you ate dinner, did the washing up, and wound up on your couch watching It Happened One Night. Conversation flowed over most of it - you’d both seen it several times. The movie gave the two of you the chance to watch and weave in and out of conversation and film trivia without pressure. Pye and Princess curled up on the couch between you like sleepy little chaperones.

By the time he left, the bottle of wine that he’d brought was empty, and he had cat hair all over his pant legs.

“Thanks for dinner,” He turned around to face you as he stopped in the hall.

“Sure,” You leaned in your doorway, tucking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants.

“I’ll have to have you over sometime, make us even.”

Your stomach flipped at the offer and you nodded, “I’d like that.”

--

“What’s got you out so late?”

“Work.”

“I’m guessing it’s the bar and not the bookshop?” Marcus asked as he watched you slouch against the wall of the elevator. You smiled a little tiredly. “I see those sharp skills aren’t just reserved for art thieves, Agent Pike.” He chuckled as the two of you stepped off at your floor. “What about you?” You asked. “Grabbed drinks with the team after work. We closed a case.” “Congratulations,” You smiled, “What happened?”

“It’s a slightly long story,” Marcus shrugged, “...Would you like to come in and hear about it?” “Gimme half an hour to shower and feed the babies and I’ll be right over.” --  “...Shit.” “What?” You lifted your head from his shoulder. Considering the last two times Marcus had been to yours, you hadn’t had any reservations about going over to Marcus’ in your comfy clothes. You’d shuffled over in your slippers, and when Marcus had opened the door, you’d held up a bottle of white wine. He’d grinned and told you it would pair well with the grilled cheese he was planning on making for the two of you. Without the cats between you, you and Marcus had settled close together on the couch. As the late night wore into early morning, you’d wound up tucked into his side as you talked. “It’s almost four,” He chuckled, looking away from his watch. “Oh,” You yawned widely, “I should let you get to bed.” “I’m the boss, I can get in a little late.” You smiled, tipping your head up and finding him watching you. “You don’t seem the type to abuse that power,” You teased. “Long as it doesn’t become a habit.” “Mm-mm,” You shook your head a little bit and sat up, “I don’t wanna be a bad influence. I save that for Pye and Princess.” “Can I walk you home?” You laughed and nodded as you and Marcus got up from the couch. You missed the warmth of him as soon as you were up, and you were so tempted to turn back toward him and cuddle into his chest-- if only to warm back up. You chatted a little more on your way to the door, and you tried not to overthink the way Marcus put his hand on your lower back as he opened the door for you. -- “Can you recommend a good book?” You didn’t look away from what you’re shelving, but you couldn’t help the slight flurry of butterflies in your stomach at the question. “That depends on what you’re looking for.” “Oh...Maybe something on classic film.” “That’s gonna be two aisles that way,” You nodded over your shoulder, “Back wall.” “Could you show me?” “You really don’t have anything better to do today, Agent Pike?” You teased. There was a pause before you heard him drifting closer to you. He peered over your shoulder, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Well, I was hoping I could take you to lunch, if you’ve got time.” “You trying to even out our meal score?”

You glanced up as he leaned against the shelf beside you and met your eyes. “I’m trying to spend more time with you,” He admitted, “If you’re interested.” You lowered your eyes to the books you were shelving, unable to help the smile that grew on your lips at his bluntness. “I’m interested.” 

-- 

Lunch ended with plans for Marcus to come over after your shift at the bar the following night. He dropped you back off at the bookstore and left you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth that you thought about for the rest of your shift. --

TCM was airing a Bette Davis marathon. By the time you got home, it was nearly 10:30. You showered, neatened up the apartment, cleaned as much cat hair off of the couch as you possibly could, and told Princess and Pyewacket to behave themselves. Princess blinked at you; Pyewacket flicked his tail. You texted Marcus that he could come over whenever he was ready, and there was a knock on the door ten minutes later. Marcus looked cozy in a way you hadn’t seen before - sweatpants and a t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and strong arms. You stepped back and nodded him in, and grinned as he crouched down, immediately scooping up Pyewacket as he came over. --

“You know, Bette Davis wanted John Barrymore to play Whiteside,” You were cuddled against Marcus’ chest; his arm was curled around your shoulders, fingers skimming along the strap of your tank top, “But he was drinking so heavily he couldn’t remember his lines. They wound up going with Monty Wooley-- he played Whiteside on Broadway, too.” “Really?” Marcus’ question was mumbled against your temple. You nodded a little. “Mhm. Cary Grant was set to play the role at one point, but Davis was so against it that he withdrew.” “Something tells me you like this movie.” You laughed, reaching out and absently picking off a piece of cat hair off of his sweatpants. When you’d disposed of it, you rested your hand on his knee lightly, giving him a chance to shake it off. Marcus just gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you gave his knee one in turn.

-- 

The two of you watched The Man Who Came to Dinner and All About Eve. “I’m worried that I’m setting a dangerous precedent for your sleep pattern,” You sighed as the credits rolled. It was almost half past three. “Mm, don’t worry about me,” He murmured, nuzzling into your neck. You closed your eyes, shivering a little bit. “...Do you wanna stay over?” You offered, raising your hand and lightly running your fingers along Marcus’ arm. “I’d like that.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “C’mon,” You urged, patting his thigh and standing. “Should we clean up?” Marcus stood with you, looking at the empty popcorn bowl and discarded cans of beer on the coffee table. “Nah, we can deal with it in the morning,” You took hold of his hand, leading him back to your room. Marcus glanced back toward your cats, to where Princess and Pyewacket were still settled on the couch. “Do the cats sleep with you?” He asked. “Sometimes.” “They gonna be mad if I shut your door?” “They’ll get over it.”

-- It was your alarm that woke you up. You leaned across Marcus, mumbling your ‘sorry’s and shutting it off. Once you did, you leaned back down, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes again. You smiled as his arm curled around your waist. “You need to go?” He mumbled. “No, just-- Forgot I had it set.” “Good.” You smiled, turning your head and nuzzling against his shoulder. “You sleep okay?” “Mhm,” He hummed, sliding his thumb along the hem of your shirt, “You should stay over at mine next time.” “So we’re even?” You blinked up at him as his fingers curled under your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. “Things aren’t always about getting even,” He smiled sleepily down at you. “What’s it about then?” “...Why’d you ask me to stay over?” You hesitated before you pushed yourself up to lean over him, “I thought you’d look good in my bed. And whaddaya know? I was right.” Marcus laughed, using the arm wrapped around you to draw you against his chest. “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” He asked. “Mm?” “Kissing you.” Heat curls in your stomach, tingling and pleasant. “Something stopping you?” You asked. The hand on your jaw slipped down to rest on the back of your neck. His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips for a few moments before he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. You felt that spark grow in your stomach, and you dipped your head a little closer, chasing the chaste touch. You shifted, leaning more heavily against him and resting your hand on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hooking in his collar. When he pulled you closer and turned, settling you down on your back, you went easily, letting your thighs splay so that he could lay between them. You moaned quietly as your kisses became warmer, more insistent. You wrapped an arm around Marcus’ shoulders, sighing as he slipped a hand under your shirt. And then you heard a yowl at your door. You groaned quietly, dropping your head back as Marcus laughed, resting his forehead against your neck. “I told them to behave,” You whined. “Don't blame them, this is on me. I should’ve kissed you last night,” Marcus murmured against your throat. You shivered, chuckling a little. “I should feed them before they do something rude like continue to yell... or throw up in your shoes.” “Would they do that?” “Oh, god yeah. I love Princess, but she’s an asshole.” --

You reached down, setting Pye’s food dish down for him and scratching him behind the ears as he began to eat. Princess was already halfway through her food. You glanced over at your phone as it buzzed on the counter and grinned when you saw who it was.

❤️5B: How’s unpacking?

-Nearly finished. A couple of boxes left. Pye was sleeping on a stack, so I couldn’t touch it.

❤️5B: No worries, baby. On my way home. Need anything?

-Cat food and popcorn. Humphrey Boggart marathon starts at 8

❤️5B: Takeout?

-Nope, got dinner covered. ❤️5B: You’re my favorite. -Don’t let Pyewacket hear you saying that. ❤️5B: Favorite human.

-Better. Btw some couple moved in across the hall. I think they have a dog?

❤️5B: I’ll make sure Pye doesn’t get out when I come in

Tag list: @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo; @fantasticcopeaglepasta; @paintballkid711

[storiesforallfandoms]

childhood secrets ~ hannibal lecter;hannibal

word count: 1711

request?: yes!

shady80smusicsingercolor “Hey! Can i request something

Hannibal l x reader

The reader kept her childhood a secret from everyone,until she was watching news about a teen getting bullied,she remembers her childhood and just cries.Hannibal notices and goes run up to her,ask what's wrong.She explain what happen,that her childhood friends used make fun of her,or calling her weirdo.Hannibal comforts her

Hope is okay❤”

description: after hearing the story of a teenager’s tragic passing, unwanted memories are brought back to her

pairing: hannibal lecter x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying

masterlist

“Did you hear about the Thompson girl?” Zeller asked as we examined some DNA for a case.

“Who’s the Thompson girl, first and foremost?” I asked.

“She was friends with Abigail Hobbs when she was sent to that psychiatric facility,” Price explained. “They were room neighbors I think.”

“Oh! That Hannah girl! What happened to her?”

“Her parents found her dead in her room. Suicide.”

I was so shocked at the response that I dropped the tool in my hand. Both of them looked at me for a moment as I just looked down at my hands. I was trying to calm the growing PTSD rising in me.

“The poor thing,” I finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Price said. “I think she was in the facility because of mental illness. Her parents put her in there after her first attempt.”

Zeller shook his head. “Poor thing. They shouldn’t have let her check out so soon. (Y/N), are you okay?”

I was still staring down at my hands. They were shaking and it was getting hard to breathe. I could barley register the fact that Zeller had asked me something. They were both looking at me, expectantly.

“What? Yes, I’m fine,” I responded. “I gotta get some fresh air.”

I threw my coat and gloves on a nearby table and quickly raced for the exit. I had to wait for the elevator to take me to the ground floor, but the wait was antagonizing. My chest and throat felt tight, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

When the elevator door opened, I was faced with Jack Crawford, Will Graham, and Hannibal Lecter.

“(Y/N),” Crawford said. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond this time. I had to get out, I had to be away from there.

The breathe of fresh air in my lungs was just what I needed, but I was still feeling panicked. Flashbacks were running through my head, things I had repressed for all those years coming back all at once, hitting me like a freight train. I sat down on the sidewalk, trying to calm my breathing enough to go back inside.

“Miss. (Y/L/N)?”

I looked up to see Hannibal stood behind me.

“I’m fine, Dr. Lecter,” I told him. “You don’t have to check on me.”

“You’re very obviously not okay. You’re breathing is abnormal and you look as though you’ve been crying.”

I felt my cheek and was shocked to find that Hannibal was right, I had been crying. I hadn’t even realized it before.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, but the crack in my voice gave me away.

Hannibal sat next to me. I tried not to let him see my face, but I knew there was no turning back now. He had seen me in the elevator, he saw how unhappy I was at that moment. Any other person would just think I was overwhelmed from work, or maybe one of our discoveries had upset me, but Hannibal was a talented psychiatrist. He probably already knew what was wrong with me.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

I chuckled. “How often does that one work?”

“Enough times to keep me employed.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Zeller and Price were telling me about a girl that used to be friends with Abigail, Hannah Thompson. She...she...”

“I know,” Hannibal finished for me, luckily. Just thinking about having to finish that sentence made my throat tight again. “I wasn’t aware you knew her so well.”

“I didn’t, but I know...the feeling. Like you’re trapped in your own mind and there’s only one way out of it.”

Hannibal was looking at me, waiting for me to continue but not pushing me to go any further than I felt comfortable with. I wouldn’t have to go any further with my explanation if I didn’t want to, I knew he wouldn’t force me. We could’ve dropped it right then and there.

But my mouth moved before my mind could comprehend what I was sating, “I was the weird girl in school. While other girls wanted to be princesses or astronauts, I wanted to be a forensic scientist. I always had a fascination with crime and forensics and such. At first, I was just an outcast with no friends, until a group of girls took me in and added me to their group in high school. They weren’t super popular girls, but they also weren’t my level of outcast or anything, so, understandably, I was excited.”

“I’d assume it wasn’t as ideal of a situation as you were led to believe.”

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes again. “They only befriended me so I could be their verbal punching bag. It started mild at first, just some friendly jokes that I could throw back at them. Then they started calling me the weird girl, the freak who liked death and murder. They’d make fun of me for reading stuff about unsolved murders, or even just murder mystery novels. They told me I’d probably grow up to be one of the unfound murderers in those stories. They put me down at every chance they got, but they were the only friends I had so I just...I dealt with it. I even gave up the opportunity to shadow at a police department during my senior year because I was afraid of them making fun of me more.”

“What was the tipping point?” Hannibal asked. “Obviously they are no longer around. I assume either you got rid of them or...they left themselves.”

“A bit of both really,” I responded. “One day, their bullying just got too much for me. My parents never liked the group, so I felt like I couldn’t go to them because they’d just tell me ‘I told you so’ - not because that’s how my parents are but because that was my irrational fear - and the teachers and guidance councilors and principals at school were garbage. They did nothing unless they actually witnessed the bullying first hand, and even then it was always a slap on the wrist punishment. So, I thought...I thought I only had one way out.”

I was still half conscious when my parents found me. My mother’s screams were permanently etched in my head, her sobs breaking through the otherwise muffled sounds I was hearing. Even when I blacked out, all I could hear in my head was my mother.

“They sent me to the same hospital Abigail was in,” I continued, skipping over the nasty parts that I couldn’t bare to relive. “My parents said I needed actual, medical help, that they couldn’t ignore my mental health issues anymore. I was there for months. I met people just like me, people who understood what I was going through. I made friends with a lot of them, and they’re all still in my life right now. My high school friend group came to visit me at one point. They seemed genuine enough with their apologies, saying they didn’t realize how much I took their words to heart and how they didn’t know how dark of a place I was in mentally. I don’t know how true any of that was, but they put on a good act. When they finished their groveling, I told them to go fuck themselves and to never contact me again. They were...offended, to say the least. Apparently they spread rumors about me at school, but I finished my senior year at a different school so it didn’t really matter to me. Went off to do forensic science in college and...here I am.”

For a moment, a look of pride passed over Hannibal’s face, as if the end of my story made him feel proud for me. I guess it made me feel proud, too, but sometimes I kicked myself for sticking around with that toxic friend group for far too long.

“I’ve never told anyone that,” I admitted. “Not anyone who didn’t know me at the time, anyways. I tried to keep it repressed, but hearing about Hannah Thompson...it brought all those memories back for me. Maybe I’m not over it like I think I am.”

“Mental trauma when your brain is still developing is not something one can easily get over,” Hannibal said. “It takes years, and even then those painful memories could follow you to your grave.”

I winced at the thought of having to battle with those memories until the day I died. Part of me was still worried that they would be the reason I would eventually die.

“But it is important to know that your old friend group was wrong,” he continued. “There is nothing wrong with being interested in something that the masses aren’t interested in. I’d argue that being interested in murder and police work is much better than wanting to grow up and be a princess or an astronaut. Your job helps the police to find serial killers and to save innocent people from being their victims. There’s nothing weird about that, not in my eyes.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I think I just needed to hear that when I was younger and...no one really said it to me before.”

“I’m saying it now,” he said. “If you ever feel overcome with those memories again, please do not hesitate to call me. A beautiful and brilliant mind such as yourself should not be worrying over what irrelevant people have to say about you.”

I felt myself blush, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the reassurance Hannibal was giving me, or if it was from the compliment.

“I want to sit out here for a little while longer,” I told him. “I still need some air, and to come down from what happened back there. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“I don’t have to, but I will,” he decided. “I want to make sure you’re okay before I join my collegues again.”

I smiled at him again. I definitely wasn’t about to fight him on staying there with me. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was anyone I wanted with me in that moment, it was Hannibal.

[texanstarslove]

everything has changed

A/N: So this little number is for @hockeynetwork‘s Winter Gift Exchange and I was matched with @bigboigritty​! I hope this fic lives up to your expectations, my dear! I was thrilled to write a fic for Nolan as I had yet to do so up until this point! I also want to give a special shout out to @danglesnipecelly​ for listening to me rant and rave and yell about this fic NON FUCKING STOP. LOVE YOU K! 

Song Inspo: Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, ridiculous amounts of fluff, cheesy friends to lovers trope 

Word Count: 8.5k

*italics indicate flashbacks*

~

They say that opposites attract, like fire and ice or Yin and Yang. Two completely different entities that have no business being together but somehow find a way to connect and create something beautiful.

That was the definition of your relationship with Nolan. 

You were the outgoing one, the one who would talk to anyone like you had known them your whole life without a second thought. You never met a stranger and were friendly and kind. One time while you were waiting for your coffee order at a local café you struck up a conversation with another customer over the most mundane of things: the straws sitting on the counter. That was just the kind of person you were. Always ready to chat with anyone about anything, sincerity in your voice at all times.

Nolan...not so much. He was a nice guy, yes, but he definitely didn’t have the same bubbly, loud, boisterous persona like you. He was happy to keep to himself, never really wanting to go out of his way to make small talk with anyone. Half the time when he spoke, it would come out as mumbles that were borderline incoherent. And although he was sometimes a person of very few words, he also carried an air of confidence. He wasn’t cocky by any means, just someone who seemed to be very sure of themselves most of the time. Some would say he gave off the vibe of someone who was constantly irritated or annoyed, a grump even.

But that was part of the reason he drew you in. He was intriguing to you. He made you want to get to know him better. He could say the same about you, how you made him want to open up in ways he never could with anyone else. The way you carried yourself made that easy, your nonjudgmental attitude made talking to you effortless.

When you first met Nolan, it was in the elevator of the apartment building you had just moved into. You were carrying the last of your belongings in perhaps one too many boxes, struggling to make it to the elevator before the doors closed. It was then, unbeknownst to either of you at the moment, that everything had changed.

“Hey, wait! Could you hold that for me?”

You moved as fast as you could, the person in the elevator holding their hand against the door to keep it open. You huffed out a ‘thank you’ before leaning against the wall to catch your breath, running your eyes over the person standing just a foot or two away from you. He was tall, easily towering over your smaller frame, hair swept under a cap that sat backward on his head. When you were finally able to get a good look at his face, the first thing that struck you were his eyes. They were the same as the sky and sea calming after a storm, swirls of gray and blue mixing seamlessly into one beautiful color. Something about those eyes made you stare just a little too long, your trance was only broken when he cleared his throat and glanced at you expectantly, his voice so much deeper than you thought it would sound like.

“What, uh...what floor?”

“Oh, um,” You blinked, shaking your head as if to bring you back to reality, and glanced at the button display to your left. The button for your floor, the sixth, was already illuminated. “Looks like mine has already been pressed. You headed to the sixth floor?”

The man just nodded, lifting his cap with one hand and running the fingers of his free hand through his hair before settling the cap back on his head. You cocked your head to the side, studying him once more. You immediately picked up on his reserved vibe but you felt compelled to talk to him some more.

“I’m assuming you live here, too?” 

He nodded his head again but turned slightly to face you so it didn’t look like he was ignoring you. You noticed his hands fidgeting in the front pocket of the black hoodie he was wearing as you continued to try and coax conversation from him.

“Do you like this complex?” You asked, “I read the reviews before I moved in and they all seemed pretty good. I figure asking a current resident how they felt about it would make me feel better about my decision.”

One of his hands leaves the pocket of his hoodie to rub the back of his neck. “It’s pretty nice. I just moved in this year and can’t really complain too much about it.”

“Yeah? That’s good to hear,” You replied, “This is the perfect spot between where I work and the university. I figured having someplace right in between would bode well for me.”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like a good idea.”

You nodded your head, clicking your tongue as you thought of more things to say to keep conversation with him. The way that he spoke intrigued you. It was almost as if he was talking behind his teeth, his voice almost coming out as a mumble. You studied him some more, noticing how he slowly rocked back and forth on his heels, his eyes downcast as if to avoid eye contact. The vibe he was giving off wasn’t exactly standoff-ish, but he definitely wasn’t jumping at the chance to keep talking. You didn’t know what it was, but something about him pulled you in and you wanted to know more about him. The elevator dinging as it reached your floor interrupted your thoughts and you shifted the boxes in your hands as the doors opened. 

“Do you need help with that?” The man asked as the top box began to teeter over the edge of the one it was situated on.

“No, no,” You rushed, “I’ve got it.”

“You sure? It looks like you’re about to..”

Just as the words were about to escape his lips, the top two boxes came tumbling out of the elevator doors, its contents scattering across the floor. You sighed heavily, shaking your head at the scene in front of you before bursting into a fit of giggles. The man looked between you and the mess that had just been created by your stubbornness and sighed.

“Just like a woman,” He mumbled, “Never wanting to accept help.”

You caught on to the teasing in his monotone voice quickly, turning to stick your tongue out at him as you giggled some more. 

“Oh, shut it.” You shot back through your laughter, “You can help me now if you want.”

He chuckled softly, extending his arm out of the elevator as if to lead you out. You shook your head as you walked into the hallway, thankful no one else was around to see what a disaster you had created. You crouched down to begin picking up your things, throwing them haphazardly into the boxes on the ground. The man did the same, only he was a little more careful with your belongings as he placed them inside the boxes.

“God, you must think I’m a hot mess.” You sighed, putting the last few items back in their box. “I swear I’m a little more put together most of the time.”

“Not a hot mess,” He said, “A little talkative maybe but…”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.” You cut him off, “I have a tendency to chat people’s ears off. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” He reassured you, “I’m used to it. I have a buddy who never shuts up so really, it doesn’t bother me.”

You smiled, nodding your head, grateful that he didn’t think you were a complete loon. It was at this point you realized you hadn’t even properly introduced yourself. “And you must think I’m incredibly rude making you help me pick up my shit when we don’t even know each other’s names.” You offered your hand to him. “(Y/N).”

He gently took your hand, squeezing lightly as he shook it. “Nolan.”

“Well, Nolan,” You stood from where you were crouched down, holding the boxes you could while he carried the others. “I really appreciate your help.”

“If you would’ve let me help you in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.” That teasing was back again. He stood from his spot as well, a sly smirk spread across his lips.

You playfully bumped his hip with yours as the two of you walked down the hall to the front door of your apartment. Setting the boxes you were carrying beside the door frame, you pulled your keys from your jacket pocket and unlocked the door, gently pushing the boxes across the threshold with your foot before taking the remaining boxes from Nolan.

“This is crazy,” He mumbled, pointing over his shoulder, “My apartment is literally right across the hall.”

“Yeah?” You turned to face him once you set the last of the boxes inside, “That’s awesome! Maybe we’ll become best friends after all.”

Nolan smiled, his already rosy cheeks darkening just slightly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah, maybe.”

That chance meeting in that elevator was quite possibly the greatest thing to ever happen to you. Not only had you met your neighbor and actually got along with him, but you also became friends, best friends, almost instantly. It started with the occasional meet up at each other’s apartments, getting to know each other before hanging out almost regularly. Your polar opposite personalities meshed together perfectly, both of you bringing out the best in each other. Nolan felt like he could be 100% authentic, becoming more and more open with his feelings around you. He felt like he could tell you anything and all those feelings he had were reciprocated by you. You could tell each other anything about everything, sharing every aspect of your lives with the other. You were like two peas in a pod, attached at the hip whenever he was home. Eventually, the two of you had exchanged keys, mainly so when he was gone on road trips with his team you could bring in his mail so it wouldn’t pile up. He only held on to yours at your insistence.

“It’d be weird if I had your key and you didn’t have mine, Nolan.” You told him when he tried to brush it off. “Just take the damn thing. Just in case, you know?”

Most of the time, you were the one letting yourself into his apartment. You’d send a quick text of “I hope you’re decent, I’m coming over” before all but barging in, filling his usually quiet space with your over the top energy. It would be a lie if Nolan said it didn’t take some getting used to. He was so used to being by himself, him and his video games or music. And though you always told him he could, he really did not need to ever let himself into your apartment when you weren’t there. He wasn’t like you, always bringing him food or buying little trinkets and placing them in random spots in his apartment. He never complained about the meals but always balked at the idea of new decorations you managed to find for him. You insisted that he needed to liven up his space, that it looked too much like a jail cell instead of a place to call home.

“I like my place just fine, ma’am.” He once told you, poking at your latest purchase, a set of succulents. “Besides, I’ll just kill these fucking things anyway.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have a spare key.” You countered, placing the plants along the window sill. “I’ll make sure you don’t kill my babies.”

He laughed at your comparison of the plants to children. “Why don’t you just keep them at your place then? Why do they need to take up space in my apartment?”

“Quit arguing with me, Nols.” You scolded him, “Not in front of the kids.”

Conversations like that always ended with him chuckling and shaking his head, all but admitting defeat. He would never say it out loud to anyone, but he actually loved how much you seemed to care about his well being. While he was perfectly capable of doing things for himself, if it made you happy, that was all that mattered to him. There was something about the outgoing and sometimes clumsy girl he met in the elevator that made it all worth it. The mood was always lifted when you showed up and though he would tease you about invading his space or being obnoxious, you both knew he never meant a single word.

There were, however, those rare occasions where Nolan would use your key. It didn’t happen very often but whenever he was going through a particularly rough patch, he found solace in you. It could be about anything, the way a particular game went, how he as an individual player was performing or if he was just having a shitty day. Whatever brought him to the edge emotionally, he knew he could come to you. You always knew when it was coming, too. Instead of a normal greeting when he entered your apartment, you’d hear the door unlock before it opened slowly, Nolan trudging in without saying a word before closing the door behind him and flopping on your couch. He’d exhale loudly, a clear indicator that something was wrong, waiting for you to come sit beside him. 

That’s exactly what happened this time. Just as you finished up an online class, you heard the key in the lock. When you closed your laptop and glanced up at the door, Nolan was there with a sullen look on his face. He went through the normal routine, keeping quiet and not saying anything, just a nod of acknowledgment before sitting on your couch with a heavy sigh. You smiled sadly, placing your laptop back in its case before walking to sit down beside him.

“What’s up, Grumpy McGee?” You teased, taking your place on the couch and resting your head on his shoulder. Typically Nolan would huff out a laugh at your eloquent nicknames for him but not this time. When all you got in reply was yet another deep sigh, you leaned back taking in his appearance. His shoulders were slumped more than usual, his posture slouched and head hanging low. He avoided eye contact when you tried to move your head to look him in the eye.

“Nolan?” 

When his eyes finally met yours, you were taken aback by what you found within those ocean-blue depths. You had seen him angry, happy, frustrated; all of the feelings that came with the profession he was in. You had seen just about every emotion in those eyes but this one almost took your breath away. For the first time, when you looked into his eyes, you saw someone who was unsure of themself. Someone who lacked the confidence they so often carried with them, even if it was in a subtle way. 

“Hey,” You murmured, turning your body to face him, “Nolan, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” He mumbled, turning to avoid your gaze once more. “Just had a rough day is all.”

You knew he and the team had been going through a bit of a rough patch. The team had been on a bit of a skid going into the upcoming holiday break. There was one more short road trip before Christmas and you could already tell Nolan was stressing about it. Not just because of the team’s performance, but because of his own personal struggles. The pounding migraines he had been dealing with for the better part of the season had become more frequent, causing him to miss playing in a few games here and there. The way to go about managing the migraines was somewhat of a mystery to team doctors and trainers. While they were doing their best to help Nolan, and he knew they were exhausting every option available, nothing seemed to be working and it seemed that Nolan was finally at his breaking point.

“Are you feeling okay?” You gently ask, your hand running soothingly across his bicep. When he just shrugged his shoulders once more, you gave a light, reassuring squeeze to his arm, smiling softly when his eyes met yours again.

“I feel fine right now,” He sighed, “But these things fucking come out of nowhere. Never know when they’re going to hit me.”

You nodded, wordlessly encouraging him to continue. He needed to vent, you sensed it, needed to let out all of the emotions he was feeling.

“I just…” He trailed off, his fingers running through his hair as he huffed out another breath. “What if this ends my career, (Y/N)? What if these things get so bad I won’t be able to play anymore? I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t…”

“Hey, hey, hold on a second,” You scooted up onto your knees, kneeling next to him on the couch. “You are going to be just fine, Nolan.”

“You don’t know that, (Y/N),” He bemoaned, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” You insisted, “I do because the whole organization is on your side. You have some of the best doctors in Philadelphia working with them to help you. They’re going to find something that makes this better for you.”

“But what if they don’t?” His voice increased slightly in volume as he sat up a little straighter, “What if there is nothing they can do for me and this team drops me? What if they see there is no use waiting around for me to get better?” He drags his fingers through his hair before holding his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. When he speaks again his voice comes out in a whisper. “What if they give up on me?”

The uncertainty and brokenness in his voice made your breath hitch in your throat. Moving closer to him you gently took his face into your hands and turned his head to face you, making him look you in the eye. 

“They will not give up on you, Nolan.” You spoke with gentle firmness. “I just don’t see that happening. You will get better and you will have an amazing career here. And can I tell you something else?”

You could see the desperation in his eyes as he nodded.

“I’m never giving up on you,” You whispered, “That I know for an absolute fact. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He chuckled softly at your remark and you smiled, running one of your thumbs along his skin beneath it. His gaze softened as you continued to hold his face, your thumb still gently caressing his cheekbone. You couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face but it made your stomach flip, made your heart rate pick up just a little bit. It was a feeling you never felt being this close to Nolan and it startled you. You swore you saw his eyes flicker to your lips but before you could process that thought, you dropped your hands to his shoulders, giving them a gentle couple of pats before moving back to your previous spot on the couch. “You want to grab something to eat? We can order in if you want?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He stuttered, shaking his head as if he was trying to clear his mind. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Of course it does,” You teased, giving his shoulder a little nudge as you stood from your spot on the couch. “You never turn down food.”

“Busted.” He gave you a small smile as he watched you make your way into the kitchen. You stood at the counter, pulling out a to-go menu from your favorite restaurant and your phone, dialing the number to place the order. You couldn’t see it but as you talked on the phone, Nolan watched you intently. He watched the way you confidently spoke and how you paced around the kitchen, making small talk with the person who was taking the order. You couldn’t see the way he looked at you with complete adoration or feel the way his heart pounded in his chest when he heard you speak. You couldn’t see the smile that spread across his lips, a smile that only you could bring out of him. You also couldn’t hear the voice in his head beating him up over not pressing his lips to yours as you held his face in your hands. He didn’t understand where the intense urge came from at that moment, but he knew he so desperately wanted to know what your lips felt like against his own. 

“You alright over there, space cadet?” 

Your voice brought him out of a trance when you spoke to him. He blinked in quick succession, seemingly willing his brain to come back to reality before he gave a quick nod. “Yeah, I guess I kind of zoned out there for a second.”

“I’ll say,” You chuckled, returning to your spot on the couch, flopping down beside him. “The food should be here in about thirty minutes or so.”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the night carried on as usual. You and Nolan finished your meals and fell into your normal routine of tv and conversations about literally anything. You tried to keep things light and fun, attempting to keep Nolan’s mind off of the struggles facing him and his team. The two of you bantered and laughed and carried on as you normally would for the remainder of the evening. Occasionally you found yourself staring a little longer at him as he watched whatever was on, studying the angles of his face in the flickering lights of the tv. You had always thought that his facial features gave him an angelic look, a juxtaposition to how he spoke and how he carried himself. You smiled, hunkering down further into the couch as you got more comfortable and got pulled into the television show. You eventually found yourself dozing off as a random Christmas movie played on the screen. You had laid yourself across the couch, your legs swung across Nolan’s lap. It wasn’t until you felt him gently tap your thigh that you realized you had fallen asleep.

“Hey,” You heard his low voice speak, “(Y/N), I think we should call it a night.”

You stretched as you slowly sat up, a soft groan escaping your lips. “What time is it?”

Nolan looked down at his phone, checking the time before looking back at you as he also stretched. “It’s just past eleven. I should go, got an early flight tomorrow.”

“Right,” You grumbled, “Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

He nodded and got up to stand in front of you, reaching his hands out for you to take. He gently pulled you up but even still, being the clumsy person you are, you stumbled forward slightly, hands pressing into his chest and his catching you at your waist. You looked up at him and found the same look in his eyes as earlier when he confided in you. That same feeling you had was creeping back in as well and you held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary. You quickly averted your eyes and cleared your throat, walking with him to your front door.

“Thank you for tonight, (Y/N).” Nolan leaned against the door frame, half in the outside hallway and half still in your apartment. 

“Anytime.” You grinned, “Always happy to be of service. Someone’s gotta feed you.”

He chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “So, uh, I’ll see you in a couple of days, yeah? Going to G and Ryanne’s for that party?”

“You know it.” You replied, “Have a safe flight, Nols. Text me when you guys get there.”

“Will do.” He saluted you before pushing off the door frame and turning to cross the hall to his apartment. You watched as he unlocked his door and opened it to head inside for the night. Just before he closed the door behind him, you called out to him.

“Hey, Nolan?” He turned to look at you, a questioning look in his eyes. 

“What’s up?”

You smiled softly, leaning your head against the threshold of your apartment. “I think you’re amazing. You know that, right?”

He leaned his forearm against his door frame and smiled. 

“I think you’re amazing, too.”

You smiled as you closed your door, leaning against it when it latched shut, and took a deep breath. Something in the air felt different and you couldn’t quite explain it. It made you nervous, anxious even, but you also couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. Something felt different between you and Nolan and even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, you knew that everything had changed.

~

With the Flyers’ road trip winding down and it going in a way that wasn’t exactly favorable, you knew there was more than likely going to be a bit of a cloud over the holidays. The boys managed to sneak in one win out of the three games played but knowing them like you did, it wasn’t something they were going to tout as a success. You also knew, given your knowledge as to how his mind worked and the existing personal struggles he was facing, that Nolan would be extra critical of himself. He’d try and disguise it, not wanting to put a damper on the upcoming holiday festivities, but you knew him better than that. 

That is how you found yourself in his apartment yet again, only this time decorating it to fit the Christmas theme. You knew it was excessive, you knew it was over the top and ridiculous, but if it would bring any semblance of a smile to that boy’s face it was all worth the complaining he’d undoubtedly do when he walked into his apartment. You had managed to snag some Christmas decorations on the cheap, scouring bargain stores for everything from lights and garland and stockings to even a tree with accompanying ornaments. When you finally deemed your collection enough to decorate with, you let yourself into his apartment and put things in place little by little over the course of the weekend. The guys were slated to be home by early afternoon with the Christmas party at Claude and Ryanne’s later in the evening, allowing everyone a little bit of time to decompress then have a little bit of fun before heading to their respective homes for the holidays. 

Holiday music was filling the apartment, your soundtrack to your latest decorating endeavor. The cheesy gas fireplace in the living room served as the perfect spot to hang some lighted garland and the stockings. Fairy lights adorned every spot in which it was feasible to place them. There were even candles that were purchased, their scent matching the season but ultimately used for the ambiance they provided as well. Decorating the tree was saved until the very last moment. As you danced and sang to the sounds of Andy Williams and Bruce Springsteen, you methodically placed the red and gold ornaments on the tree. You even snuck a small Gritty ornament in the mix, making sure to give a nod to the mascot you knew Nolan loved and adored, hoping he’d find it and smile. As it all came together, you pulled out the last item to place on the tree, it’s topper. You loved how when the little star was placed at the top it felt like the finishing touch to it all, giving finality to all your hard work. You stood back a couple of feet from the tree and looked on in contentment, happy with how the decorations turned out. You chuckled to yourself, knowing that when Nolan walked into the room when he got home he’d instantly know who to blame for Christmas practically exploding in his space.

Admiring the room in its entirety one last time, you smiled once more to yourself, proud of what you were able to accomplish. You knew Nolan would be shocked, and probably bitch and moan about it, but in the end, he’d have a laugh and hopefully feel just a little bit of the holiday spirit. You blew out the candles, their scent lingering in the air, before heading back across the hallway to your apartment. It was nearly lunchtime, meaning you had more than enough time to clean up and get ready for the team Christmas party. You pulled out your phone, seeing you had received a text from Nolan saying he and the boys had just landed and would be back home soon.

You: Happy you guys made it back safely! I’ll be ready for G’s party around 6, that should be enough time for you to nap or whatever, right?

Nolan: Yeah sounds good to me.

The two of you exchanged just a few more texts before he needed to drive home. The extra time before the party allowed you to get a few house chores done before actually beginning to get ready. Not even an hour after your text exchange with him, your phone began to ring, Nolan’s name flashing across the display. You smiled broadly, already anticipating what his reaction to his newly decorated apartment would be.

“You’re supposed to be taking a nap, no?” You tried to hide the giggle threatening to bubble up, knowing exactly why he was calling you.

“Don’t you act like you don’t know exactly why I am calling you, (Y/N).” Nolan’s gravelly voice greeting your ear, “Why the fuck does it look like Christmas threw up in my apartment?”

“You don’t like it?” You feigned shock and hurt, “Come on, Nols, don’t be such a Grinch!”

“Ha, fucking, ha.” Nolan retorted, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “Seriously, you’ve outdone yourself. This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Mission accomplished, then!” You cheered, “Now hang up the damn phone and take your nap! We have a party to go to tonight and I expect you to be my date.”

Nolan scoffed. “Oh, with this latest stunt I’m taking away your plus one status.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” You gasped, earning a hearty chuckle from Nolan. 

Of course, he never would. It would be like sucking the life out of the party leaving things so much more boring if you weren’t around. Having you at his side to these events and gatherings made it all worthwhile, even if you were just tagging along as his friend. “TK and Hayesy would never let me hear the end of it if I did. And you’d end up bugging me to go all the time anyway.”

It was your turn to laugh now. You know those boys liked to rib Nolan to no end about his relationship with you, asking when he’d ‘wife you up’ or why you spent all your time with a guy like Nolan. It was all in good fun, though. They were never malicious or had any ill will, in fact, they were just the opposite. You two would never know it but the guys on the team, and some of their significant others, were secretly waiting for the day the two of you would get together. Though you and Nolan both insisted your relationship was no more than a friendship, your friends were not convinced in the slightest. You’d both just shrug off the comments and jokes, nothing ever really bothering either of you. 

“Well, you can’t disappoint them then!” You teased, “Now seriously, get some beauty rest and pick me up at six.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He replied through his laughter.

“See you in a little bit, Nols.”

You said your goodbyes and continued with your day, doing the various chores you set out to finish and allowing yourself more than the usual time it took for you to get ready. After showering and picking out an outfit, something festive but not over the top, you sat at your vanity with your makeup spread out in front of you. You took your time, playing yet another Christmas playlist to help set the mood for the get together you’d be attending. Something about the music and festivities put you in a wonderful mood and made you even more excited to see everyone before they all headed back to their respective homes for the holidays. 

As you were putting on your earrings, the finishing touch to your look, your phone buzzed on the countertop as a text came through. You glanced down and saw that it was from Nolan, asking if you were finished getting ready.

Nolan: Your Uber is waiting for you outside the door.

You: Ew, that’s creepy. I didn’t think they did that. 

Nolan: Kidding of course. Can I come in?

You: As long as you aren’t the creepy Uber driver.

You smiled to yourself as you sprayed the last bit of hairspray in your hair and looked over your appearance once more. Satisfied with the finished look, you grabbed your purse and walked into your living room, just in time to see the front door open and for Nolan to walk through.

“Creepy Uber driver has arrived.” He called out as he shut the door behind him. At first, he didn’t notice you had walked into the living room, speaking louder than he normally would, but then his eyes landed on you and they seemed to widen as he took in your appearance. “Wow, (Y/N)..you look..”

“Do you think this is okay?” You asked, “I know they said casual but I didn’t want to just show up in what I normally wear so I-”

“Hey, you look great,” Nolan assured you, “I mean, I thought you’d be wearing one of those ugly Christmas sweaters given how you decorated my apartment so this is a nice surprise.”

You playfully smacked him in the chest before linking your arm with his. “Let’s get this show on the road.” 

The drive to the Giroux household was nothing short of typical for the two of you. There was the usual chirping from you about how Nolan was driving and the incessant moaning and groaning from him about the music you chose to play.

“Any time you’re on the AUX cord, no good music is played.” He complained, attempting and failing to take the cord from you as he drove.

“Nolan, we are on our way to a fucking Christmas party,” You said, “It would be sacrilege if we didn’t play any Christmas music! Now focus on driving before you kill us.”

He shook his head in defeat, chuckling softly at the small little victory dance you did in your seat as you played your music. Every now and then he’d steal a glance at you, watching as you happily sang and danced to every song that played. He’d never admit how much he actually enjoyed the cheesy holiday music, mostly because of the joy it brought you. Everything that made you happy made him happy. Seeing you smile made him smile. Every little thing you did for him, no matter how much he may have complained about it outwardly, made him feel like he was on top of the world. Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, thinking these thoughts, feeling these feelings at this very moment made him come to a not so shocking realization. 

He was madly in love with you. He was so head over heels for you and it took his breath away. 

He took a deep breath, one that caused his chest and shoulders to rise and fall dramatically and you took notice. As he pulled the car into the drive, you raised an eyebrow at him and cocked your head to the side.

“You alright over there?”

He shifted the car into park and offered you a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You gave him a beaming smile, unbuckling your seatbelt to get out of the car and head inside. “Come on, Mr. Grinch, let’s go see everyone.”

He watched as you climbed out of the passenger seat, shutting the door behind you, and walking up to the front door of the Giroux’s home. When he saw you turn to see if he was going to follow, mouthing a ‘Come on!’ as you waved, he sighed once more, climbing out of the car himself. That big, wide grin was still plastered on your face as he walked up beside you, you linking your arm with his once again. Looking down at you, seeing how excited you were as the two of you walked up to the door only solidified his earlier thoughts. He knew in this very moment that everything between you had changed.

~

The evening carried on at a relaxed pace, Claude and Ryanne being the wonderful hosts they always were. The guys with families brought their children along and the entire night was filled with plenty of laughs and entertainment. You always found yourself gravitating to the kiddos when they were involved. That’s how Nolan caught up with you after the two of you were separated for a little while. You were sitting and chatting with Ryanne, bouncing a happy little Gavin on your knee.

“How is it that you always manage to end up with the kids?” He asked you as he came to stand beside you. His finger lightly poked at Gavin’s belly making the toddler giggle excitedly. “What’s up, little man?”

You smiled up at him and bounced your knee, continuing Gavin’s giggles. “I can’t help it. He’s the cutest guy in the room.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” He replied, “Thanks for hosting all of us, Ryanne. It’s been fun, as always.”

“Oh, of course!” Ryanne smiled, “It’s a blast, we love having everyone here.”

Nolan turned back to you as he spoke again. “I was going to get something to drink, did you want me to grab you anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks.” You looked back at the giggling toddler still in your lap. “I just need a few more Gavin cuddles and I should be ready to go soon if you are.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, “I’ll meet up with you in a little bit then, yeah?”

He gave your shoulder a light squeeze before making his way to the kitchen, seemingly making small talk with Kevin.

“He’s got it bad for you, girl.” Ryanne gushed when Nolan was out of earshot.

You felt your cheeks warm, butterflies running rampant in your tummy before brushing her comment aside. “You’re crazy. We’re just friends, Ry.”

“And I think you are lying to yourself.” She countered, “He’s a good guy, (Y/N).”

“I know that,” You agreed, “He’s my best friend, of course I know that.”

Ryanne just smiled, that ‘If you say so’ kind of look that she gives you every time this subject comes up. She, just like all your other friends, never pushed the envelope with you. She respected your boundaries but she was always one of your biggest cheerleaders. She was like how Claude was for his team except in her place in the WAGs group, really in the whole friends group entirely; the momma of the group. She would have your back no matter what and support you with no questions asked. 

“So tell me about how he reacted to your Christmas decorations.” She said, changing the subject, “Did he freak out over it?”

“Oh, god, it was hysterical.”

You indulged Ryanne in all the details of your decorating assault on Nolan’s apartment, telling her about how you almost lost your invitation to the evening’s festivities. The laughter you two shared echoed through the living room and into the kitchen, Nolan of course taking notice of your laughter specifically. He was leaning against the island that overlooked the living room, smiling at how much fun you seemed to be having in telling whatever story you were to Ryanne. He felt a pair of hands land heavily on his shoulders, a hard squeeze being given to both, before that all too familiar Boston accent filled his ears.

“Buddy, come on.” Kevin chuckled, “You have got to say something to that girl.”

Nolan turned to face his friend who had leaned on the island beside him. He attempted to give Kevin a nonchalant, playing it cool response and shrugged his shoulders. “What are you talking about? Tell her what?”

 “Don’t give me that shit, kid.” Kevin told him, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Nolan sighed, one of his hands coming up to run down his face. There was really no point in trying to play it off anymore. Of everyone in this house, aside from Ryanne, Kevin knew exactly how Nolan felt about you. Though unlike Ryanne, Kevin wasn’t going to play games with Nolan. He had sat back for too long watching the both of you deny, deny, deny and he was ready to at least call Nolan on his bullshit.

“What, no smart ass comeback this time?” Kevin chuckled when Nolan didn’t respond. As he watched him for a second longer, he knew Nolan had recognized his own feelings. “Oh, shit, you do have feelings for her, don’t you?”

“Don’t act like you’re surprised.” Nolan retorted.

“I’m not surprised you have feelings for her, bud.” Kevin clarified, “I’m surprised you’ve finally admitted it. Took ya long enough!”

Again, Nolan sighed, this time in annoyance. “Well, keep it down, you big idiot. I don’t need to spring any surprises on her like this.”

Kevin just laughed, taking a swig of the beer he was nursing. He watched as Nolan turned his attention back to where you were still chatting with Ryanne. He could tell just by the way Nolan was looking at you that he had it bad, just like Ryanne had told you earlier. One of his hands came up to Nolan’s shoulder once more, gaining his attention once more.

“Can I tell you something without you getting defensive on me?”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “That depends on what comes out of your mouth.”

“Fair enough,” Kevin chuckled, “In all seriousness though, Patty, that girl loves you too. I’m just sayin’.”

“How do you know that?” Nolan scoffed, “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” Kevin grinned, taking another sip of his beer. “But I have a feeling that if you told her how you felt, I’d be right.”

Nolan looked back at you once more just as you were finishing your conversation with Ryanne. You caught his eye and smiled that big, beautiful smile he loved so much as you stood to walk over to him. Kevin gave him one last pat on the back as you made your way to where they were standing.

“Ready to go, Nols?” You asked, tucking into his side.

He nodded, turning back to Kevin to give him the handshake-hug hybrid thing that men like to do. 

“Remember what I said,” Kevin told him before turning to you and pulling you into a hug. “Have a good night, sweetheart. Don’t let this guy give you any trouble.”

“I know who to come running to if he does,” You laughed, “See you around, Kev.”

You and Nolan said goodbye to the remaining partygoers before heading back out to his car. Per your usual, you snagged the auxiliary cord before Nolan could reach for it, expecting a fight out of him like always. When he did nothing but chuckle at your antics you got your first clue that something was going on in his head. You let it go, however, chalking it up to you just reading too far into his actions. But when the car ride back to your shared complex was quieter than normal, no words being exchanged between the two of you, you knew for sure something was up. You turned the volume on the car stereo down and turned in your seat as best you could to look at him.

“You okay, Nolan?” 

He glanced over at you, still trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Yeah, I’m good. Why what’s up?”

“You’re just quieter than normal,” You replied, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just tired is all,” He mumbled, reaching across the console and taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze, “I’m good though.”

He didn’t let go of your hand. Even after he stopped talking he didn’t let go of your hand. You tried not to outwardly show how you were feeling on the inside. Your heart rate jumped, feeling like it was beating rapidly in your throat. You felt your face get hot and you were thankful that it was dark out, only street lights illuminating your face as Nolan drove. You tried to calm yourself as Nolan pulled the car back into his usual spot back at the complex parking garage. The two of you walked into your building, your hand still burning from his touch. The silence between you two remained but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You could understand why Nolan would be tired, having flown back home and attending a Christmas party all in the same day. As you went to pull out your keys, Nolan stopped you, nodding toward his apartment door.

“You want to come in for a little bit?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck like he was nervous.

“Y-yeah,” You stammered, not sure where the sudden nervous energy was coming from, “Sure. That should be fine.”

He gave you a small smile before unlocking his door, letting you walk in first before closing the door behind him. You took off your shoes, leaving them by the front door, and removed your coat and scarf, draping them over one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. The only light in the apartment was that of the lights you used to decorate with. When Nolan went to turn on one of the lamps you stopped him.

“This is the best way to enjoy the Christmas lights,” You told him, “Come look at the tree with me, please?”

Nolan gave you a small nod and came to stand beside you. The lights gave off a soft, warm white glow and you smiled as you admired your handiwork. “Did you notice that I hid Gritty in there?”

You heard Nolan chuckle softly before replying. “Yeah, I did. He really makes the tree.”

You giggled, nudging his hip with your own. He smiled back at you, watching as you continued to look over the tree. He knew you were proud of the work you had done and that warmed his heart. He also couldn’t help looking at how beautiful your face looked lit up by nothing but the soft glow of Christmas lights. His gaze lingered for a while and when you felt it, you turned so your body was facing him, giving a puzzled look.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Just…” He shook his head, looking down at the ground before his eyes met yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You questioned, your head cocking slightly. 

“For everything.” He murmured, his fingers coming up to brush your hair behind your ear. “For being my friend, taking care of me. For being you.”

“Nolan, you don’t have to thank me…” 

“I know,” He insisted, the hand that came up to your face lingering just a little longer, not yet dropping back to his side. “I know I don’t but I want to.”

“Nolan…” 

“I also want to do one more thing.”

Before you could even process a response, he was stepping closer to you and his other hand joined the first in cupping your cheeks and tilting your head upward, his lips pressing to yours in a gentle but sure kiss. You gasped softly, your eyes a small noise of surprise escaping you and your hands clasped around his wrists. His kiss was soft, gentle enough to not scare you away but it wasn’t tentative. You knew without a doubt that this was something Nolan was sure of and with just a second’s hesitation as you regained your bearings, you kissed him back, and as you did so Nolan sighed into the kiss, relief flooding him. Your eyes fluttered shut, throwing yourself into the moment. You kissed him back with the same gentle urgency, allowing his tongue to tangle with yours when you felt it trace your bottom lip. You don’t know how long the two of you kissed. Eventually, the urgency calmed and you fell into slow, languid movements until you both needed to come up for air. Your eyes remained closed for a moment longer as you felt Nolan’s forehead rest gently on yours. When you opened them once more, you were met with the ocean blue eyes that, though at the time you hadn’t realized it, you fell in love with the moment you saw them. Your hands were still clasped around his wrists, thumbs brushing the tops of his hands as you smiled up at him before he broke the silence first.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” 

You giggled softly, letting go of his wrists and pushing up onto your tiptoes so you could wrap your arms around his neck. “That was nice.”

Nolan chuckled, his hands dropping to your waist. “I’ve had feelings for you I think from the start.”

“Oh is that what that means?” You teased, giving his nose a quick peck. “I thought it was just a ‘thank you for decorating my apartment, (Y/N)’.”

He gently squeezed your sides, eliciting a surprised squeak from you. That soft smile of his graced his face once more before he spoke again. “I’m serious. I think that maybe… I think I’ve loved you for a long time now.”

“You love me?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” He replied, his hand rubbing your sides, “Yeah, I love you.”

You grinned from ear to ear, Nolan’s smile almost matching yours before you pushed your lips to his again, loving how they felt on your own. You were nearly breathless when you pulled away again, speaking in a hushed tone. “Good, because this would have been so fucking weird if this was just your way of saying thank you.”

Nolan quirked an eyebrow, his little smirk spreading across his lips. “So it’s not weird?”

“No, you idiot,” You giggled, “Because I love you, too.”

He pulled you into one more kiss, this one just as slow and gentle as the very first. You couldn’t describe the happiness that was flowing through your veins, but you did know one thing. It was there, in the ridiculously decorated living room of his apartment, beneath the warm glow of Christmas lights, that everything had changed.

[brockadoodles]

Take my Heart, I’ll Give you my Soul - b. boeser

AN: Alright, here it is. Without a doubt my favorite and most popular fic. It will probably flop and my heart will shatter since this is a repost but y’all said you wanted it so here ya goooooo. 

Word Count: 24,717

Warnings: Drinking, angst, mentions of sex, and that it’s a long one. 

It might have been dramatic, but you couldn’t possibly imagine that you had ever had a day as exhausting as this. It was your senior year of university, and one of your seminars was an 8am. Normally this wasn’t an issue, you generally enjoyed mornings, especially in your new apartment. Ever since moving in six months ago, you found yourself waking up early to enjoy the sunrise over the city, sipping your morning coffee on your balcony as you watched the city come to life. Lights slowly turn on, pinks, and orange hues lighting up the sky as the sun rises. You found it calming, taking extra care to slow your breathing down and relax, the cool air running through your hair. 

This particular morning, however, had gone entirely wrong. You must have forgotten to plug your phone in the night before, waking up slowly around 7:30, which gave you nowhere near enough time to shower, get dressed, and commute from the city to campus. 

You rushed through your morning routine, simply brushing your teeth, throwing up your hair, and a simple combination of a sweatshirt and leggings to get you through the day. You were the type of person who hated being late, to you, if you weren’t at least ten minutes early to something, you got a sense of uneasiness in your stomach. You tried to brush the feeling off, reassuring yourself that your professor didn’t care and that you were still attending the seminar rather than skipping like most students probably would have. 

You rushed out the door, locking it swiftly and throwing your bag over your shoulder, walking quickly toward the elevators of your building. You tapped your foot impatiently as you watched the numbers on top of the doors count upward to yours. When the doors opened, you saw Brock standing there, a deep blue Canucks sweatshirt on him, dark grey sweats covering his legs. You stepped aside, allowing him and his dog, Coolie, to walk out of the doors. You had only met Brock a few times, being as he was your across the hall neighbor and you hadn’t seen him until one morning in August, him introducing himself to you in the elevator. You had spoken a few times in passing, never more than a quick hello as one of you was coming or going, but he always offered a friendly smile. 

Today he looked different, a frown on his features while he exited. He was clearly stuck in his own head over something, thoughts mulling around. If it weren’t for Coolie rushing to your legs, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed you standing there. 

“Good morning, Coolie.” You leaned down to pet the dog, scratching softly behind his ears while he wagged his tail. Brock smiled over at you, mumbling a quick hello before you parted ways for the day. You barely knew him, but something felt unsettling about the way he looked at you. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and it seemed more than just the fact that it was early morning. 

The day progressed and things quickly escalated from minor inconveniences to flat out annoyance. Class passed by painfully slowly, and your shift at work dragged on, with your boss coming hard on you for something you didn’t feel at fault for. By the time you got back to your apartment, you had three new assignments due, and a new deadline for a project at work. Your head was pounding from the stress, and you pulled your hair up into a loose bun and settled into your glass of red wine, a pair of old red fuzzy socks adorning your feet. You combed through the cupboards, wine glass in hand as you pulled out ingredients for cookies with your other hand, knowing that baking might help take your mind off of things and that the smell of freshly baked cookies would remind you of home. 

You had always been a stress baker, finding something relaxing about the meticulous craft that was baking, comfort coming from strict measurements, and the feeling of control as you worked through various recipes. It had gotten you through many rough patches in life, and earned you a ton of friends more than willing and enthusiastic to consume all of the treats you baked. 

When you moved to Vancouver, you lost that luxury, and you hadn’t really felt stressed enough to whip out the supplies since moving in six months ago. But with that day being so long and exhausting, you found yourself missing home more than you usually did, and as you had for many years, you turned toward baking to get you through the homesickness. 

You turned on some music, letting it play softly as you started mixing your dough. You danced around in your kitchen feeling the tension release from your body and your head start to clear as you loaded up a plate of chocolate chip cookies, exiting your apartment and heading to the one across the hall before you could consciously realize what you were doing. You could blame it on the glass of wine, but if you were to dig deep into the archives of your mind, you knew it was because there was a nagging feeling about Brock nestled there all day. A single thread tying you to this boy you barely knew, wanting to make his day just a bit better. 

You raised your fist to the door, knocking softly while balancing the plate of cookies in your other hand.  You instantly regretted what you were doing as soon as you removed your knuckles from his door and heard Coolie’s feet scrambling around inside the apartment. You held the plate nervously, the few leftover chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven. You knew you looked like a mess, your hair was sloppily thrown up on your head and your makeup had long since been removed. The dark leggings you wore were stained with flour, from you accidentally wiping your hands on them while mixing your dough. You told yourself that it didn’t matter, you and Brock were friendly enough, and with the look on his face that morning not leaving your mind for most of the day, you wondered if maybe your neighbor needed some sort of pick me up of his own. 

“Hello.” You were met with a voice you didn’t recognize. You looked up at the young man standing in the doorway, Coolie trying to rush out of the door once he saw it was you standing there. You made eye contact with him, noting that he was tall, and blonde, like Brock. He was wearing a Canucks sweatshirt, similar to the ones you had seen Brock in many times, so you could only assume he might be a teammate or someone else who works in the organization. 

“Petey, who is it?” You heard Brock’s unmistakable voice, muffled from the walls. The boy in front of you smirked, looking down at the cookies in your hand, and your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

“Uhm, is Brock here?” You asked tentatively, sneaking a glance past the blonde-haired stranger in front of you. 

“It is a girl with cookies.” He called back, voice calm and monotone. You weren’t sure what to make of him, he wasn’t not being nice, but he was quieter than Brock. And now, with it arguably too late to turn back, you were beginning to feel regret creep up inside you about going over there in the first place. 

The door flew open after your short interaction with the other blond, revealing Brock. Coolie immediately rushed out, tail wagging as he whined for your attention and sniffed your legs. Brock smiled at you, a more genuine smile than you had seen from him this morning, and it instantly melted all of your nerves as he motioned for you to come inside the apartment.   

“God, I don’t deserve you.” He groaned, reaching down to the plate of freshly baked cookies you just set on his counter. You saw another young boy sitting on the couch, dark brown hair, and dark circles under his eyes. He looked a little awkward and was staring blankly at the basketball highlights playing on Brock’s TV. You suddenly felt embarrassed, you had no idea who these friends of Brock’s were, and here you stood, hair a mess, covered in flour, bringing your neighbor who you barely knew cookies in the late evening. 

Brock either noticed you tense up, or was just genuinely polite enough to speak up after he swallowed the last bite of the cookie. 

“Ah, this is Petey.” He properly introduced the blonde who answered the door, clapping a hand quickly to his shoulder before throwing it back to point at the other boy on the couch.

“And that little dead kid is Quinn.” He smiled. Quinn looked over at you, smiling softly and nodding his head before resuming watching the television, not even reacting to Brock borderline insulting him. Brock eyed you curiously as you reached down to pet Coolie who was pawing at your leg for attention, a fond look on his face. Petey eyed you suspiciously, watching as his best friend looked over at you. He assumed this was the pretty neighbor he always talked about, who he never actually had the nerve to hang out with on his own. 

You could see Petey mulling over the interaction, almost as if you were watching him analyze the situation, causing you to feel exposed there in Brock’s kitchen. You swallowed, just about ready to gather your excuses and head back home before Brock spoke up. 

“So, what brings you over at 11:30 with freshly baked cookies? Seems a bit late for baking.” He teased, chuckling lightly as you stood back up, wiping your hands on your already dirty leggings. You felt your cheeks heat up with his eyes on you, you were a bit embarrassed, having intruded on what appeared to be their guys' night. 

“Just had a long day and baking helps me unwind. I made too many and don’t know anyone else so…” Your voice got softer as you spoke, unsure of what else to say. You brushed a strand of hair away from your face, watching carefully as Petey went and sat next to Quinn, the two of them whispering a bit as you stood in the kitchen still with Brock. Brock leaned across the counter a bit in front of you, resting his chin in his hands while he studied your face. The next words out of his mouth smooth.

“Want to grab coffee tomorrow morning and talk about it?” He asked. Your eyes widened a bit, this was your neighbor, who sure, you were friendly with and was ridiculously cute, but coffee? Was it a date? Was it the beginning of a friendship? You weren’t sure. You glanced over to the couch, the other two boys now with their full attention on you, making you nervous once more. You swallowed one again, clearing your throat quietly as you answered. 

“Sure.” 

“Cool. There’s this really old place a block from here, they have the best latte art.” He smiled once more, grabbing another piece of a cookie and popping it into his mouth. 

“Latte art?” You questioned, finding it oddly charming that this tall, broad guy would be interested in something as trivial as that. But you didn’t know anything about Brock yet, and you couldn’t help but smile a little bit at how adorable it was. 

“Very cool, one time they tried to do a portrait of me.” He nodded. 

“It was ugly.” Petey jumped in, smirking at his friend for finally making the move at getting to know the cute neighbor he had to suffer through Brock always talking about. Brock laughed, a genuine full laugh where his hand rested on his stomach and his eyes crinkled and you instantly felt yourself growing captivated by him. He had the best laugh and it made you feel warm, something that no one else had ever been able to do for you.

“9?” He ignored his friend, instead focussing his attention only on you. You nodded before saying goodnight to everyone. You walked back into your apartment, hopping in the shower and working through your evening routine, mentally preparing to keep yourself up all night in anticipation of this coffee date with the cute boy across the hall. 

The next morning you found yourself irrationally anxious, silently cursing yourself for agreeing to coffee with Brock. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, you liked Brock, maybe had a bit of a crush on him, but that was exactly the problem. You had no idea why someone as cute and successful as that wanted anything to do with you. You were just a normal person, finishing up your undergrad at the University of British Columbia, hopefully entering the world after with some sort of better job than you already had that would allow you to stay in the city. Brock probably had way better options than you on his horizon, given that he was, from what you gathered, a successful professional athlete. 

The fears melted away when Brock knocked on your door the next morning, a smile on his face and dark beanie covering his hair. You felt more comfortable around him than you expected so early on in what would eventually become a close friendship, following his lead as you entered the elevator together. Conversation flowing easily between you as you walked the short distance to the coffee shop he had been so excited about from the night before. 

It didn’t feel like he was a stranger, and you found yourself wanting to share more with him than you normally would with someone who was just an acquaintance from across the hall. You also noticed how attractive he was, feeling yourself blush more than once as he intently listened to you tell him about your school and work. 

You reached the shop, looking up at the old wooden building, a stark contrast from some of the more modern structures lining the streets. It felt homey, a warm-toned feeling emulating from the outside, spreading to the inside as Brock held the door open for you, motioning you inside. You looked around at the shop, seemingly empty for that early in the morning, just a few other patrons scattered throughout. Brock followed you up to the counter, saying hello to the barista who seemed to recognize him. 

“Hey Brock, the usual?” She asked, her hand reaching for a cup to write his order down. You noticed how friendly he seemed toward everyone, nodding to the other barista who was across the shop, wiping down tables, a quality that you found yourself attracted to. 

“Yeah, but for here.” He smiled, looking toward you. You felt your cheeks flush, carefully saying you’d take whatever he was having, feeling slightly embarrassed. The barista nodded, grabbing another mug with a smile on her face as she looked from you to Brock and you tried not to think about if you were the first girl that he had brought here as he handed over some cash to pay for the drinks.

You settled into a table near the back of the coffee shop, talking endlessly about anything and everything together. Brock was a presence that you didn’t know how you lived with just in passing for the last few months, now that you were seeing what he was showing you. The strange thing about it was how natural it felt, a connection between you that you couldn't explain. 

You watched Brock curiously as he was speaking, finding yourself slowly memorizing each feature of him as if you were painting a picture in your mind for safekeeping. You felt drawn to the way his eyes closed as he smiled, and the way his hand rested on his stomach when he laughed. He was distracting, in the most endearing sense of the word. You sat there in that coffee shop, listening to him for almost two hours that morning, a fluttering in your stomach and heart that you were cautious about. 

When Brock walked you to your door that was just across from his, there was an easy smile on his features as the conversation dwindled down. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stood close to you, your hand fumbling in your bag for your keys, his eyes softly on you.  

“Since we’re now friends.” He started, a small smirk present as the two of you stood in front of your door. 

“Can I have your number so we can do this again sometime?” He added, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, coming in close to your body. He smelled like cinnamon and cloves, the warm smile still present on his face as he watched you, carefully gauging your reaction to his seemingly weighted question. You had to concentrate on not fumbling while you exchanged phones, entering your phone number into his.

When he handed you your phone back, you laughed softly at his contact entry, the little whale emoji and blue heart next to his name, feeling yourself flush at your cute neighbor who you just had what some would assume was a great first date with. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest as the texts started coming in, communication between you becoming a new constant in your life, friendship coming together seamlessly as it was meant to be. 

The only downside was that as you started getting closer to Brock, the more it became painfully obvious your crush was unrequited. But that was okay with you because having Brock as a friend in the city was something you were grateful for, and if it meant you had to pack up your seemingly silly crush into a box, sealed and locked away in the depths of your heart, you would, because having him was as a friend was better than not having him at all. 

Brock, however, knew he liked you from the first time you showed up to his condo, your red fuzzy socks on your feet, flour across your legs, and cookies in your hands. He had seen you many times before, in passing when one of you was leaving or coming back, but when you knocked on his door that late November night, he knew you were someone that he wanted to get to know better.        

---------

December came and you and Brock had quickly gotten close, any awkwardness that you usually experience with a new friend as you get to know them had already melted away. You found yourself at his condo more often than your own on days and nights that he wasn’t out of town. He had even gotten you to go to one of their home games, surprising you with a jersey beforehand and laughing when it wasn’t even one of his. 

“Brock last I checked, your last name is not Pettersson.” You ran your hands over the stitching, and you tried not to let your quickly beating heart question why he wouldn’t want you to have one of his. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to grab one but I knew I had this. Don’t worry, next game it’ll say Boeser.” You nodded at his words, pushing down any anxieties you had as you folded the jersey and set it down, making a mental note to not forget it as you left. 

“Okay, let me cook you, useless boy.” You joked, shooting him out of his own kitchen while you started washing the vegetables and preparing dinner. 

You and Brock had developed somewhat of a routine the last few weeks, with at least two dinners a week together when his schedule would allow it. It was nice at first until Brock absolutely wrecked a simple meal and you realized you’d either be eating takeout or cooking yourself each time. You didn’t mind though, because you liked being there with him, a lazy smile on his face as he tried to help you with whatever you were making, usually sneaking in bites of the food while he thought that you weren’t looking. 

“So let me get this straight, you need me, to go on a double date with you and some girl Quinn wants to impress? Why?” You laughed. 

“He really likes this girl, and you know how huggy is, he’s awkward.” Brock smiled, knowing that you had a soft spot for the little Canuck of the team. He reached over with his fork, grabbing a quick bite of your roasted vegetables from your plate, humming as he plopped them into his mouth. You swatted his hand away from your plate, rolling your eyes as he overly exaggerated how good the roasted veggies were while he chewed. 

“Please? He’s taking her mini-golfing, clearly, he needs help!” He laughed once more, thinking about how nervous his teammate had been over this date, practically begging him to come along. “Plus, I can’t just third wheel it.” Brock added. 

You rolled your eyes, softening a bit at the idea of helping Quinn. Brock watched you as you pondered over the idea, knowing that you would probably say yes. You knew he wasn’t seeing anyone, so it wasn’t as if there was an option for him to bring a date. 

“Fine, on one condition.” You said, pointing toward Brock with your wine glass in hand. 

“I win put put, and you’re taking me out to that fancy new brunch place downtown.” Brock smiled at your words, relieved that you said yes. He raised his beer to your wine glass, clanking them together softly as he grinned at you, cheeks slightly pink. 

“Done deal. You know if you wanted me to take you on a fancy brunch date, all you had to do was ask.” He teased. Your own cheeks now rivaled his, your crush on your best friend bubbling to the surface. Brock winked at you as you shifted in your seat, gulping back the last of your wine while shifting your eyes away from him. You needed to compose yourself, Brock was just joking around, he wouldn’t actually be taking you on a date and you needed to keep telling yourself that to push the lingering feelings away.

“Don’t push it Boeser.” You smirked, gathering your plate and heading into your kitchen, leaving him at the table while you started packing up the leftovers from the dinner you cooked for the two of you. 

A few nights later you found a nervous Quinn in the elevator as you were heading back home to get ready for this date. He was wearing some nice jeans and a simple sweater, with a dark jacket over it, cleaning up nicely. His eyes looked nervous but it looked like he had slept, a good sign you thought. He had a small bouquet of roses in his hands, debatably too much for a low key first date, but you shrugged it off, thinking that this girl would probably appreciate the effort. 

“Quinn, what made you think it was a good idea to take a girl on a date outside in December?” You said, ruffling his hair quickly as you walked down the hallway toward Brock’s door. 

“I didn’t really think about it..” he trailed off, avoiding eye contact. You touched his arm soothingly before knocking softly on Brock’s door, Coolie barking in the background. 

Despite the cold weather, and Brock trying to block every shot of yours that you tried to get to go in, you were having a great time. It was deceiving though, because you were sort of in your head about all of it, almost giving yourself the illusion that the date with Brock was real. 

You stepped off to the side of the course, leaning against a short fence. Brock followed you, positioning himself right next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. 

“What do you think?” He asked, nodding his head toward where his teammate was, fumbling over his golf club while Kyn laughed at him softly. You smiled. 

“I like her, he looks like a nervous wreck but it’s nice to at least see some emotion.” You joked, leaning against the small white fence next to Brock as you watched Quinn fumble over Kyn. She was currently giving him an earful about how to properly put the shot in through the small windmill, Quinn looking at her with adoration in his eyes.

Brock laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder while he watched them. It was stupid, really, how such a simple action from him caused you to feel nervous. You had known Brock for a while now and while he wasn’t overly affectionate with other people that you could tell, he always seemed to have a need to be touching you when you were together. Sometimes it was his knee brushed up against yours on the couch during movie nights, sometimes it was his arm casually thrown over your shoulder while you were out with some of the team, and sometimes it was his hand brushing against yours while you walked. 

“Wanna ditch them?” Brock’s voice pulled you from your own head. You looked over at where Quinn and Kyn were standing, he was laughing at something she said, both seemingly oblivious to the fact that you and Brock had separated yourselves from them. You turned toward Brock, leaning into him slightly.

“Movie night?” You asked, knowing that those were likely going to be the next words from his mouth. Brock smiled, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your temple, sending your heart flying at the seemingly friendly kiss. 

Brock pulled back, avoiding your eye as if he wasn’t sure why he had just done that and you felt your shoulders slump a bit at his reaction, only reinforcing his lack of feelings for you. But, the moment passed almost as quickly as it came, and he smiled down at you.

“You know me so well.” He said, the two of you already leaving the mini-golf course, seeing Quinn and Kyn in the distance, a budding romance building up between them that you found yourself slightly jealous over, no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts of Brock taking you on a real date away. 

---------

The next week, you were lounging on Brock’s couch, Coolie with his head on your lap, your hand resting gently on his head. Brock was in Washington DC, the Canucks on an east coast run. Over the last few weeks, you had slowly become the one that Brock trusted enough to watch Coolie, with you usually staying over at his condo, keeping an eye on things whenever he was gone. It was nice, domesticity with Brock that you fell comfortably into. You felt at home in his place, after many nights spent there with him over the few short weeks you had known him, and you absolutely loved the dog. 

You never thought about how your friendship looked to other people, how quickly everything seemed to progress. You just felt like Brock knew you, and you knew him, two pieces of a puzzle that fit together smoothly, the only rough edges being your unrequited feelings for him. 

You sometimes wondered if it was crossing some sort of metaphorical barrier of friendship though.  You slowly picked up on him not talking to other girls, him calling and texting you even more so than he already used to, his body usually as close to yours as possible when you were together, and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t let your heart think about what it all meant. 

The annoying thing was that you beat yourself up over it, allowing your mind to drift into places that Brock never put you in, in the first place. He never did anything to make you feel not good enough for him, so why did you suddenly feel like that’s what it was? 

You hadn’t been able to watch the game that night, getting in late from work as you rushed from your office back to where Brock lived, where you used to live. You had seen the score though, and you knew the Canucks lost, and you were anxiously awaiting Brock’s Facetime to talk it out with him. 

Brock always called you after bad games, or away games. There was something soothing in your ability to ground him, you listened to him, never offering advice if it wasn’t warranted, but you held him accountable to his game. He loved that about you, you had taken the time to learn him, memorizing everything about the inner workings of his mind to a point where he was unsure of if anyone would ever compare to you. Brock wanted you, more than anything, but what you had was so valuable that he wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk of losing. So instead, he took what he could get from you, and tried his best to give you everything you needed in return. He knew he was setting himself up for heartbreak down the line, but he didn’t care, so he kept dialing your number, with no intentions of stopping. 

You picked up on the third ring, switching the call to facetime. Brock’s heart swelling in his chest, seeing you there in his condo, with his dog laying on you. He was selfishly getting too used to it, coming home to you, so much so that he found himself missing you when he would find stray items of yours scattered around. The hair ties in the bathroom, or the smell of your shampoo on his pillows. He knew he was falling, hard, and every time he came home to you, he found it harder and harder to restrain. Li

“Hey,” you said, eyes soft as you took in his appearance. He was in a hotel room, the dim lighting, and bad decor a giveaway. He looked tired, as you scanned his face you saw the large gash on his cheek, flecks of bruising starting to appear around it.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rushed out, instantly worried. You hadn’t seen anything about him getting injured, and even if it was just a cut, you felt a tugging on your chest, needing to know he was okay. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay, just a high stick. My shoulder is a bit sore though, I took some bad hits.” He said, voice calm and reassuring. Brock was the type of guy who didn’t like to complain, he didn’t want people worrying about him, so he tended to brush things off, instead of focusing on what others needed. It was one of your favorite things about him, how selfless he was, but sometimes you needed him to take care of himself. You never said anything though, because it wasn’t your place to tell Brock how to react or not react to things that happened to him, especially if they were in his career. It was your job to be there as his friend and support him when he needed it, so that’s what you did night after night, facetime calls going so late into the night, often falling asleep next to one another on-screen. 

“Tell me about your day though, could use the distraction.” He smiled. You could tell that something was off with him, maybe it was that he didn’t want to worry you with his pain, or maybe something else happened and he didn’t want to talk about it. Brock rarely asked for a distraction, he was always forthcoming with you, so him not wanting to talk about what happened bothered you, more so than it probably should have. 

You bit your lip, glancing away from the camera slightly before looking back at him, short enough that you didn’t think he would notice. The truth was that you didn’t have a good day, you found out that you were going to be unable to go home for Christmas, something you had been looking forward to since moving to Vancouver. 

Brock noticed something was wrong as soon as you picked up the call and switched it to facetime. You looked tired, your eyes heavy, the room dark with just the small lamp by his couch illuminating your face. He still thought you were beautiful, his mind reeling when he noticed you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, something that you did often that he never grew tired of. He saw you bite your lip and look away, something that you had a tendency to do when something was wrong. He softened a bit, waiting to see if you would bring it up with him. When you didn’t answer right away, he said your name softly and you turned, offering him a small but not quite all there smile in return.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. You looked at Brock, not necessarily surprised at how he picked up on your shift in mood. You felt your eyes well up with tears, partially from the news from today, partially because you were simply exhausted, and partially because you missed him. He had been gone almost a week now and you were missing him more than you knew you should for being just his friend. Being in his condo, sleeping in his bed, the scent of him everywhere, it felt too intimate and you were beginning to get overwhelmed by what it all meant. 

“I can’t go home for Christmas.” you softly said, him frowning slightly in return. 

Brock knew how much that trip meant to you. You loved the holidays and you had been telling him for weeks how excited you were to go home and bake with your mom, go out to the tree farm and cut down the perfect tree with your dad, and just be around your family that you hadn’t seen in months. He also knew that most of the people you were close to in the city probably weren’t staying in the city for the holidays, and his heart ached at the thought of you spending Christmas alone. 

“I’ll stay with you.” He said, voice small as if he was afraid this was too much, or the wrong thing to do. 

“No, Brock you can’t, what about your dad?” You frowned, knowing how important going back to Minnesota whenever he could was to him. Brock picked up the phone, adjusting it on his pillow as he shifted around in the bed. 

“I’ll just go home for All-Star break, it’s only a few more weeks, they’ll understand.” 

“Brock-” you tried, him cutting you off quickly.

“I want to stay, let me.” He sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by it. You knew Brock cared about you, he always made you feel like you were one of the most important people in his life, but volunteering to stay with you for Christmas because he felt bad you couldn’t go home was heartwarming in a way that you couldn’t describe. You felt light tears pricking in the corner of your eyes, the relief from knowing you wouldn’t be alone during your favorite time of the year making you emotional. 

You propped the phone on the coffee table in front of you and pulled one of the sleeves of the sweatshirt down to wipe your eyes. Smiling softly at Brock who was watching you carefully, taking in your movements, hoping that you wouldn’t fight him on this. 

“Okay.” was all you could manage, the tears slipping out quicker. 

“Good, because I really think I need to make my trainer mad by eating a whole batch of those gingerbread cookies you have been raving about for a month.” Brock joked, trying to lighten the mood. He hated seeing you cry and it was even more distressing to him when you were alone in his condo, him a thousand miles away unable to do anything about it. 

You smiled at his joke, nodding your head at his words. Words couldn’t describe how appreciative you were of Brock, and a few weeks later when Christmas did roll around, you baked him two batches of those gingerbread cookies, watching in enamored amusement as he tried to shape them into various shapes. You were treading down a slippery slope with Brock, one that you were terrified of as the train raced down the track, headed toward the sharp curve of your heart, a curve that you weren’t sure the train could withstand. 

---------

January came and went, with you busying yourself with your last semester of classes, and Brock going home over the All-Star break, you felt like you hadn’t seen him in a while. It was the busiest month for both of you, with the Canucks mostly out of town for away games, the only times you truly got to see Brock were when he would come back to his condo late from roadies, carefully slipping himself into the bed next to you, softly murmured “hellos” before you both drifted back to sleep. 

It was agonizing in a way, this back of forth with Brock, you were friends, but ever since Christmas, it had felt like more. You were almost sure he was going to kiss you that night, the tree illuminated in the background, joking around about hanging mistletoe up. And you let yourself stand there in front of him, prepared to take what felt like a long-overdue step in the confines of your relationship and it just never came. Brock never leaned in to kiss you that night, and you had carefully replayed the entire scenario over and over in your head wondering why he didn’t. 

But now it was late February, and you were running late from work getting to Brock’s birthday party. You had been excited about this the whole week, feeling like you hadn’t had that many great opportunities to spend quality time with him. You were in the throws of midterm exams and a big project deadline at work, simply catching glimpses of him in late-night Facetime calls or the occasional morning coffee runs together if he didn’t have a morning skate or practice scheduled that day. 

You had felt something shift since he spent Christmas with you, a dynamic in your friendship that felt slightly different. You didn’t know how to describe it, but the thoughts of him as more than your friend were getting stronger, more evident in the way that you thought about him. You were scared that maybe he could see your feelings, as if they were like a neon sign lit up in a window, the window protecting the piece of your heart that you hadn’t given to him. 

You felt anxious as you left work, time slipping away from you as you sent Brock a quick text, apologizing for being late, and that you’d be there soon. You walked down the streets of downtown Vancouver, holding your arms close to your chest to keep yourself warm from the late winter breeze as you headed toward the bar where you knew everyone was. 

Brock had been anxiously awaiting your arrival at the bar, knowing you were leaving a work meeting that had gone on a bit later than you anticipated. Most of his friends were there, mingling amongst each other in the dimly lit setting as they began celebrating Brock’s birthday, drinks freely flowing. He was waiting at the bar, saving a drink just for you for when you got there, knowing that you were the one he wanted to see. He watched carefully as he saw your figure come into view, you tucking your ID back into your bag and looking around for anyone you recognized. He was just about to raise his hand to try to get your attention when he saw you run into Quinn, instantly pulling him into a quick hug that Brock told himself he wasn’t allowed to be jealous over. 

“You should tell her.” Brock looked over at the voice, Elias walking into the bar to get a refill of his drink. Brock just watched as the bartender handed him a new drink, Petey bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. When Brock made no move to respond to his friend, Elias spoke up once more. 

“You should tell her how you feel.” He clarified, shifting his eyes slightly to where you were standing, just outside of earshot from where they were leaning against the dark wooden bar counter. Brock followed his gaze to where you were, looking at you. You must have just gotten there, your coat still wrapped tightly around your shoulders, cheeks, and nose slightly flushed from the strangely cold February night.

You were laughing at something that Quinn was saying, a genuine smile reaching your eyes. He would do anything to be the one to make you smile all of the time, harboring feelings that no one should have for someone who was supposed to be just a friend. If he really thought about it, he could rationalize that maybe you felt the same way, that the lingering looks you gave him as he told you about something important to him, the lines crossed after nights out where you’d wake up in his bed with your legs entangled together, all were indications that you wanted him in all of the ways he wanted you. 

He was about to deny it, words tumbling out along the lines of “We’re just friends” to Petey that he had said so many times before, unsure of who he was trying to convince at this point. But before he could stop looking, you turned, catching his gaze, and offered him a small smile. The moment was quick as you turned your attention back to what Quinn was saying, but Brock was mesmerized by the small upturn of your lips. 

“Brock.” Petey tried, looking at his friend who was so hopelessly in love with you that it didn’t even surprise anyone anymore. Brock pulled the cap from his head, running his hand through his blonde hair before putting it back on, trying to shake off the moment that had just happened. 

“There’s nothing to tell, we’re just friends.” He laughed, desperately trying to believe it himself. It was so much easier if you truly were just friends, and if he had to repeat that statement a million times for it to be true, and for him to forget about the feelings he had for you, he would. He couldn’t lose you, and if that meant mentally locking up his heart when it came to you, that’s something he was willing to do. 

“You two are something else.” Petey shrugged, leaving the counter with his drink. Brock quickly finished his vodka-soda, nodding to the bartender for a refill. He felt the alcohol starting to take effect on his body, watching as you slowly work your way through the crowd of his teammates toward him, stopping and saying hello as you passed by. 

“Hey, birthday boy.” You smiled, walking right into Brock’s open arms. He hugged you close, resting his chin on your head for a moment before leaning back to grab you a drink. The bar in downtown Vancouver was busy even by a Friday night standard. The season had somehow worked out in Brock’s favor that year, with only a practice scheduled the morning of his birthday, and a day off the day after. He held you close for a moment, taking in the scent of your perfume and the presence of your body wrapped in his. He was already a few drinks in, feelings for you bubbling up to the surface from the haziness of the alcohol. 

He handed you a vodka soda, letting his eyes scan your body quickly. You were wearing black booties and a pair of black skinny jeans that hugged your hips nicely. You had a navy blue sweater on, the dainty gold necklace that you always wore peeking through the collar. You had just come from work, not having time to change before heading to the party everyone was having for Brock’s birthday. You smiled at your best friend, chuckling slightly to yourself as you saw how hazy his eyes were from the drinks. 

“Got you something, Boes.” you said, digging into your bag to pull out a small box, wrapped in blue paper. Brock looked from your eyes to the box, smiling widely as he slipped it from your fingers. 

“A present? From my favorite girl?” He said, grinning widely. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a sloppy drunk kiss to your temple, something that was a bit more than friendly and had your mind racing. Your skin feeling hot from his touch, even through your sweater, your silly little crush on your friend rising to the surface from his overly affectionate tipsy actions. 

“Open it!” You beamed, taking a long sip of your drink. Brock quickly unwrapped the box, the curve of his lips tilting upwards as he looked inside. 

“These are amazing, I love them.” He said, looking at the silver cufflinks you got him, engraved with a small outline of Coolie on each one. You thought the idea was kind of silly when you bounced it around with Petey, him reassuring you that this was exactly the type of sentimental but useful gift that Brock would love. Brock pulled you into another hug, letting his arm linger on your body as people started filtering through to wish him a happy birthday. You let your guard down, drinking arguably too much with your best friend, your head spinning faster each time his hands lingered on your body.

“Are you coming back to my place?” He asked, smiling once again at you. You nodded, curling your body back into his arm, that was loosely hanging over your shoulder. His breath was hot on your ear as he smiled wide at your wordless answer. You felt butterflies at the question that was only loaded in your head and going with a surge of bravery you reached up and laced your fingers through his, a move that earned you another soft kiss to your temple, and Brock’s sparkling drunk eyes looking at you fondly. You both ignored the looks from the others as you left the bar like that, hand in hand walking back to his condo, drunken giggles, and incoherent secrets spilled between you.

The walk back to the familiar building was quick and one you had taken many times before moving out, fond memories of nights out with Brock entering your mind as you stepped into the lobby. 

“It’s still weird coming back here and not going into my place.” You said, walking into the elevator Brock trailing behind you, hand still laced tightly in yours. He pulled you flush against his chest, facing the mirror on the back of the elevator, looking at himself holding you, something he never wanted to stop doing. 

“I miss just walking over to your place in the middle of the night.” He frowned, remembering the day you moved out. 

“Mmm, me too babe, me too,” you mumbled into his jacket, the pet name slipping from your lips before you could reel it back in. Brock finally let go of you when the elevator doors opened, following your lead as you walked toward his front door. He fumbled with his keys as he heard his dog running toward the door at the sound of you and him waiting outside. When he slid the key in the lock, you pushed the door open, drunken giggles and Coolie’s whining filling the silence. 

“Coolie, my favorite boy!” You said, tumbling into Brock’s condo, getting down on the floor to allow his dog to jump all over you in excitement. Brock laughed, walking into the kitchen and pulling out two glasses from the cupboard, filling each one with water. He came around the counter, reaching a hand down to help you up to your feet, you crashing into his chest, giggling. 

You took the glass of water from the counter, drinking it slowly as you walked toward Brock’s bedroom, entering his closet to pull out a shirt for yourself to sleep in for the night. It didn’t even phase Brock how you walked around as if you lived there, because deep down he spent a lot of nights thinking about it. Whenever he was on a roadie, he knew you were there, watching his dog, sleeping in his bed, and it drove him crazy. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love your bed?” You groaned, plopping yourself on top of the bed, crawling underneath the covers. Brock laughed in return, tossing his shirt to the floor and getting in next to you. He pulled you into his chest, the atmosphere in the room shifting to something more serious. You tried to focus on his face and the way he was looking at you, but all you could feel was your heart beating in your ears as his fingers danced softly along the top of your hip, sliding his shirt that was draped on your body just enough to show skin. You needed to do something to break the silence, to pull his stare away from you before you did something that you might regret.

“Did you have a good birthday?” You whispered, hoping that he couldn’t hear the steady thumping in your chest. Brock smiled again, his whole facial expression getting softer the more he looked at you. 

“The best.” He whispered back, leaning in and pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of your mouth, lips almost touching yours. Your breath caught in your throat, the moment passing as quickly as he did it. Brock tightened his arm around you, leaning his head into your shoulder. You lay frozen there, with Brock draped over your body as you struggled to breathe. Brock’s almost kiss sending you into a spiral of thoughts, instantly making your heart race. It wasn’t until you felt his hot breath on your neck, and heard his snores in your ear that you were able to calm down enough, drifting to sleep, neither of you remembering or mentioning the almost kiss by the time you woke up.    

The next morning, your eyes felt heavy, your head pounding as you tried to block out the sun coming in from Brock’s windows, the floor to ceiling windows normally offering your favorite view of the city shining sunlight that was far too bright for anyone who had that much to drink the night before to deal with. You groaned, feeling Brock’s arm wrapped securely around your waist, no memory of how you got into this position with him from the night before. 

“Brock.” You shifted, trying to move out from under his arm. He groaned in response, pulling you even closer into his chest. You were overwhelmed by the situation you were in, Brock’s legs entangled with yours, his arm sprawled over your middle, his head in the crook of your neck. You felt more vulnerable with each thump of your quickening heartbeat, holding your breath while you pieced together the night before. You and Brock had slept in the same bed before, you were adults and friends. Sometimes after a night out, the two of you would stumble drunkenly back to his condo, wordlessly sinking into his bed together to sleep off whatever the drinks of choice were for the occasion. This felt different, you’d never woken up completely consumed by him, your bodies close together. It felt too intimate for your relationship, his arms too closely holding your body, his lips mere centimeters away from peppering light kisses into your neck. 

You found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to wake up like this every morning, feeling secure and content in Brock’s arms. You could easily picture a slow morning where you’re woken up in the late morning to soft kisses, running your hands through his hair while you come close together. It wasn’t that far off from where you were now with him, only you couldn’t just wake him up and kiss him, and the realization sent you spiraling into your own heart with feelings you had so desperately tried to keep at bay for months. You needed space, you needed to get out of his grasp and forget about how good it felt to be with him, even if it was only for a moment of consciousness. 

“Brock.” You said more firmly this time, you shook his arm slightly and he seemed to realize what was going on. His eyes fluttered open and for a moment he looked at you, there in his arms and it was the best feeling he had experienced in a long time. Something so simple as being wrapped up in you sent him over the edge, tumbling through his feelings like a boat on rocky water. 

He pulled himself from you, running a hand through his hair as he watched you get out of his bed, eyes lingering down your body. His heart was pounding, and his mind racing as you stretched slowly in front of him, his t-shirt you had borrowed from the night before riding up your thighs slightly. He let himself imagine for a moment what it would be like to pull you back into bed, fingers laced together while you’re underneath him, needing only each other. 

“Fuck.” he cursed, trying to rid himself of the image he created. 

“What?” You laughed, turning to look at Brock. He had a hand stretched out over his face as he groaned.

“Just a headache, one too many vodka sodas.” He joked, sliding his hand through his hair before smiling at you. You smiled back, your eyes soft as you focus on him. It felt like something more, the way you looked at him. 

“Well, Boes, I’m starving, think I need some of your famous eggs.” You grin at him, the moment passing just as quickly as it began.  

---------

Brock steps onto the ice, knocking over a few pucks that are stacked up on the bench next to the tunnel before beginning his usual warm-up lap. It’s game one of the first round of playoffs, the Canucks entering as the wild-card this year. He was absolutely buzzing with nerves for the first game, the energy in Rogers Arena already different than it was for normal home games. 

It was still early, but the arena was already filling up with fans. 

He was focusing on his pregame rituals, but still taking his time to read the signs that kids had taken the time to write, stopping every so often to toss a puck in their direction. He took glances over at the other end of the ice, where the San Jose Sharks were warming up for the game, flashes of video of their games running through his head as he focussed on getting mentally checked into the game. 

He was pleasantly surprised when he skated by and sees you behind the player’s bench a few minutes into warmups, pre-game nerves for the playoffs settling in, but somehow slowly evaporating when he realizes you're there. You’re smiling brightly at him, offering a small nod as he noticed you. He quickly glances toward the young girl next to you, holding your hand. Brock quickly picked up a puck on his stick, bouncing it around before catching it in his right hand. He mouthed something to you that you didn’t quite catch, but before you could ask he was tossing the puck in your direction. You caught it, watching Brock as he smiled at your niece and waved. 

“Is that the one?” Your sister-in-law teased as you reached down, and handed the puck to your five-year-old niece. You sighed, knowing exactly where she was headed with this conversation.

“We’re just friends.” You tried, not knowing who you were trying to convince more at this point. Your crush on Brock had developed into full-on feelings, and sometimes you were almost sure that he could sense the way you reacted to him. You hadn’t admitted your feelings to anyone, hoping that if you kept them guarded close to your chest that you would eventually move on and stop daydreaming about your best friend. But it seemed like almost everyone was onto your scheme, poking fun at your dynamic with each other every chance they got. No matter how many times it happened, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pinch in your chest each time Brock brushed off their comments. Your heart sinking every time he laughed the words,

“We’re just friends.” To someone. 

Holly came down after warmups, just before the game was set to start, a smirk present on your face as she held her hands behind her back. 

“Okay, what’s that face for?” You rolled your eyes, knowing Holly it could be anything. She pulled her hands in front of her to reveal a denim jacket resembling her own. You looked at it, noticing Boeser clearly written on the back, details surrounding his name of things you knew and loved about him. One thing that caught your eye, was the small patch on the top right corner, just where one of the seams aligned with the shoulder. You widened your eyes at your small initials embroidered into the corner. 

“Well, what do you think?” She smiled brightly handing the jacket to your shaking hands. You didn't know what to think. You weren’t Brock’s girlfriend, Holly knew this. Holly also knew about your long harbored crush for him, feelings that had been spinning out of control lately, a wag jacket doing nothing to help them go away. 

Your sister in law looked at you, a knowing smirk evident on her face as she bounced your niece in her lap.

“Holly…” You trailed off, unsure of if it was even appropriate for you to be wearing something like this, endless questions racing through your mind, wondering if Brock even knew about this, and worse, if he did, what would he say. You ran your fingers over the stitching on the jacket, letting your heart think for just a moment about what it would be like to wear this if you were actually his girlfriend. 

“Well, put it on. I want to see.” you sighed at her demand, stomach filling with nerves as you placed the jacket over your sweater, the fit perfect on your frame. You felt like people were staring, it was obvious what that jacket symbolized and even most casual fans knew who Holly was, being that her husband was the captain of the team. The last thing you wanted to do was end up all over Twitter as “Brock Boeser’s girl spotted” or something like that. Not only would it be embarrassing, but your feelings were already growing stronger, like ivy settling into a trellis, weaving its way through the spaces while the beautiful leaves slip out, and you didn’t need those leaves present to the entirety of hockey Twitter right before an important series for Brock. 

“God, he’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you. Poor guy probably won’t make it.” She said, taking a sip of her drink and settling down into the seat, the other girls slowly started to fill the friends and family section down by the ice. You felt exposed, standing there in a matching jacket knowing that so many of the girls knew you weren’t Brock’s girlfriend.

“Wait, he doesn’t know?” You exclaimed, making a move to slide the jacket off of your shoulders, embarrassment clouding your judgment, and turning your cheeks a bright color as you felt the temperature of the arena shift. The lights began to dim and the Canucks opening graphics started to appear on the ice, you instantly shrugging back into your seat when you saw Brock skate out with the rest of the opening lineup, eyes searching the crowd for you as he stood there next to his linemates. He offered a small smile toward you, nodding slightly before focussing his attention back on the ice as you waited for the anthems to start. You tried to ignore the way the jacket felt on your body the rest of the game, ignoring how the meaning of wearing it felt as time progressed.  

It was late in the third when Brock scored a goal, pulling the team ahead 2-1. You jumped up and cheered loudly along with the girls as he skated right up to the glass in front of you with his linemates. When the celebration broke and he skated along the bench, bumping fists with his teammates, he looked at you the entire time, smiling brightly. He didn’t notice the jacket, too focussed on your smiling face, and the momentum shift as his goal pushed the Canucks in the lead as he skated by, the goal ending up as the game-winner for the opening night of the first-round series against the Sharks. 

You shuffled out of the stands, saying goodnight to your sister-in-law and niece before following Holly down to the tunnels, a text from Brock burning a hole into your hand as you read it. 

Wait for me? It read. 

The words twisting in your mind as you tried to decipher what they meant. It could be nothing, but you couldn’t help but feel a shift in the air as you wore his last name on your back, standing amongst all of the other wives and girlfriends. You tried to push the feelings down, shoving them back into the box whose wood was splintering more and more lately, feelings for Brock tumbling out of the cracks. You couldn’t even deny it anymore, you liked him, and it terrified you in a way that you couldn’t explain, and wearing his name on your back was doing nothing to help you push the problem away.  

You tapped your foot anxiously as you stood around with the rest of the girls waiting for him. You felt a bit out of place, being there among all of the wives and girlfriends, but Holly had stuck by your side, welcoming you with open arms, and a big surprise that you were now wearing. 

The denim jacket hung loosely over your shoulders, Boeser embossed on the back, the number 6 stitched on the right arm. You felt a bit strange about it at first, not wanting to cross another boundary with Brock, the lines seemingly becoming blurrier and blurrier as the last few months wound down. You told yourself it was just playoffs, this was standard, and you knew Brock wasn’t seeing anyone, in fact, as far as you knew, he hadn’t been talking to anyone for months. You tried your best to ignore what that meant, to tell yourself it was just a coincidence that the two of you had started spending even more time together. 

Brock exited the locker room, his hair was still slightly damp from the shower, his navy blue suit back on his body. He was riding a post game-high, and the feelings only escalated when he saw you standing off to the side. Your bag was draped across your arm, foot lightly tapping on the ground as your eyes looked around the hallway. His breath came to a stop when he realized what you were wearing. 

Draped over your shoulders was a light wash denim jacket, one that he instantly recognized as the infamous wag jackets. His eyes darkened as he scanned your body, gaze lingering on the number 6 on your right arm, his number. He took the final steps toward you, wrapping your body into his as you realized it was him there to greet you. 

You looked up at him, instinctively tossing a hand up to his slightly damp hair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he hugged you. 

“That’s a nice jacket.” He said, leaning his head in, resting his forehead against yours, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to rapidly beat in your chest. You didn’t know what he was doing, but something about the darkness of his eyes, and the softness of his voice removed you from where you were. All you could focus on was him, not the tunnel, not the other players and wags shuffling out of the arena, it was just you and Brock.  

“Yeah? Thought I’d represent my favorite guy.” You whispered, leaning in ever so slightly, shaking with nerves and hoping that you weren’t misreading the situation. This was it, Brock was finally going to kiss you, and you weren’t entertaining any of your head’s thoughts of stopping it. 

“I’d hope that’s my last name on the back.” He said, the tone of his voice lower, eyes reflecting something darker that you hadn’t seen before. Your cheeks were probably red by now, your heart was beating in your throat, and butterflies were swirling deep in your stomach as you both leaned in. The moment was agonizingly slow. You felt your eyes flutter shut, preparing yourself for a kiss that you had spent months waiting to happen. 

“Boes! You forgot this!” Jake yelled, and Brock pulled away from you quickly, recovering instantly as if the moment never happened. Your heart sank, and your stomach filled with another emotion, one that you tried to avoid thinking about as you hung the jacket up in your closet later that night, coming to the realization that he didn’t want to kiss you, rather he must have just been caught up in the moment. 

Neither of you mentioned the almost kiss, instead it was added to the overstuffed box of moments that you swore he felt what you were feeling, only to be locked away collecting dust as you waited for a kiss that at this point you were beginning to feel like would never come.    

The Canucks unfortunately were knocked out of the first round, your heart aching as you watched the final seconds of the sixth game on tv, knowing that Brock was probably beating himself up over the missed breakaway chance from earlier in the period that would have tied it and sent it to overtime. You watched sadly as the Canucks skated off the ice, seeing Brock with his head down as he left quickly. 

Your heart ached for him and the rest of the team, knowing how hard they had worked to get to that spot only to be eliminated so early on. You opened up your text thread with him, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you questioned how to offer your support when he most likely didn’t even want that right now. Before you could come up with some attempt at empathy for what he was feeling, your phone buzzed in your hand, his name flashing on the screen indicating a text.

“Going to try to sleep off the bad mood, we land at 8:30 tomorrow.” The text read. You just sent three blue heart emojis back, not knowing what to say, wishing that you could comfort him but knowing that he just wanted to be left alone. You couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting. You wanted to be the person he went to for everything, and while you knew you were practically that person already, him not opening up to you now had you feeling like it was a reassurance that he didn’t feel the same. Your brain is trying to convince you that if he did have feelings, he would want to talk to you. 

The official end of the season also meant that you knew your time with Brock was dwindling down as he prepared to go back to his hometown for the summer, something you were selfishly dreading. Going a few days without Brock usually felt too long, and you selfishly didn’t know how you’d handle not being able to see him every day. With how close you had grown in the months since meeting him, and how wrapped up in him you had somehow let yourself fall, you couldn’t imagine what this summer would be like with him gone. 

Brock got back into Vancouver the next morning, coffee and pastries in hand as he came into his condo, relaxing as soon as he saw you and Coolie curled up on the couch. You were wrapped in the throw blanket, head leaning awkwardly on the back of the couch with Coolie curled up next to you. Your favorite show was softly playing on the TV in the background, a now cold cup of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. 

He went into his room, dropping his bags near the closet and grabbing some fresh sweats and a shirt to wear, Coolie noticing and jumping off the couch to follow him. He reached down, greeting his dog with affection before walking back out to the living room. He slipped onto the couch next to you, pulling the blankets over enough to cover himself, nudging you softly until your eyes fluttered open to meet his. 

“You’re back.” You said, voice slightly groggy from sleeping. Brock reached up and put his arm around you, motioning you to lay down on his lap. You smiled, curling yourself into him and adjusting your position so that you were able to lay on his lap. His arm adjusted, resting over your stomach, his hand just close enough to yours that you almost reached up and threaded your fingers through his. His other hand softly playing with your hair, actions feeling like they were blurring a line to the point of almost crossing it, but not taking the final step. 

He didn’t say anything in return, instead looking down at you with a smile. You could tell he was upset, the reality of the season-ending finally kicking in now that he was home. But he made no move or indication that he was wanting to discuss it, probably earning an earful from the coach anyways. Instead, the two of you settled into the spot there, your show playing on the tv with both of your minds drifting to each other, wondering if the quickening paces of your hearts were normal or just an illusion of the feelings unspoken between you.   

A few hours later, you found yourself in a different position, your feet were feet propped up into his lap, one of his hands was resting securely on one of your shins as he scrolled through his phone with the other. It was quiet, the two of you finally up and awake from the nap you took together when he came back, and you knew the inevitable talk of him leaving was coming. 

You didn’t want to talk about it, and if you had your way, Brock would be staying in Vancouver this summer with you. But, you weren’t his girlfriend, and it was unreasonable to allow your mind to drift to that place, no matter how many times you thought to yourself that he must feel the same, only to be let down by nothing ever-progressing past friendship between you. 

You didn’t know how much longer you could handle it, the underlying feelings every time his skin touched yours, the times where it felt like he was so close to finally kissing you, only to pull back and stop himself. You didn’t know what to do, your heart and mind battling back and forth with your mind begging you to distance yourself, trying to tell you that it was good he would be gone for a few months, and your heart telling you to keep as close to him as possible. 

“So, when are you going home?” Your voice broke the silence. You spoke quietly, trying to hide the hint of sadness in your voice at the idea of him leaving. Brock looked up from his phone, locking it and setting it down on the coffee table before he squeezed your shin reassuringly. 

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that.” He started with a hint of nervousness in his voice. You leaned up, propping yourself up on the pillows to look at him, nodding at him to continue. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” His question startled you and sent your mind slipping down a runway that you didn’t understand. The question felt loaded yet natural at the same time. Going home with him meant meeting his family, spending time with the people he cared the most about, and you didn’t know how to process what exactly he was asking of you. 

You were just Brock’s friend, what would his family assume when he brought you home? Did they know about you? The questions were circling in your mind, causing you to freeze for a moment before being able to answer his question. 

“Brock, what do you mean?” you asked. 

“I know the last couple of months have been hard, with graduation and your job winding down, and I also know that I can’t imagine spending months away from you. I thought it would be nice to show you where I’m from, get you away from the city for a bit. You’d love it there.” Your heart fluttered at his words, overtaking every inner thought that your mind was screaming at you. Your head was telling you to say no, that this was most definitely a clear boundary that shouldn’t be crossed. But your heart was running through every red light, every traffic signal placed there by your head, telling you to turn around and stay in Vancouver. 

You placed your hand over his and he instinctively flipped his hand over and threaded his fingers into yours. It was a small gesture, but one that sent your heart into absolute overdrive, killing off any willpower that your head was trying to preserve. 

“I’d love to.” You answered, leaving your hand entangled with his for a moment as you watched his smile grow, a weight seemingly lifting from his shoulders. He looked happy, and you would have done anything to make him happy. 

---------

Spending time with Brock in Minnesota was something that you didn’t know you needed. You felt like you were seeing a different side of him, one that you knew was there but that you hadn’t had the privilege to see before. He was more at ease around his family, always in a relaxed state of mind no matter what was going on around him. 

You watched him with his dad, sitting out on the dock next to one another. The hot sun casting a beautiful sheen onto the lake water outback. Brock’s hair was getting lighter, his skin getting tanner with each passing week, and you found yourself falling even more in love with him than you already were. Watching him with his family changed something in you, you knew you had feelings before, but for the first time since discovering them, you wanted to do something about it. 

There had been so many instances since being in Minnesota where you’d be there with Brock, so close to leaning in and finally crossing that boundary, showing him how you felt. But something stopped you every time, fear. 

You continued looking out at the dock, watching as Brock sat with his dad. You loved this side of Brock, seeing him so at ease with one of the people that mattered most to him. You knew Brock was happy in Vancouver, and that he was working hard on contract negotiations to stay, but Brock in his hometown was a different side of him, one that you felt privileged to be able to see.  

Your eyes lingered on the sky, bright stars filling the vast dark space, the moon illuminating a reflection against the water as you laid next to Brock on the small boat. Your head comfortably resting on his chest, his arm around your shoulders. It was another shift in closeness with him that had occurred over the short week you had been in Minnesota. Something between you had changed, and despite knowing everything you thought you could know about Brock, you found yourself wanting to know more. Each touch sends you closer to admitting your own feelings to him out loud, only to stop yourself short by the worry of losing the best thing in your life that you had. 

“He’s happy you’re here, you know?” His mom’s voice startled you, her stepping onto the patio where you were, taking a seat at the small table outback, a drink in her hand. You looked at her curiously, replaying the words over in your head. Something about her tone had you feeling like there was more weight to them. 

“I’m happy too.” You smiled, trying to keep your composure. It wasn’t that his family made you nervous, but you wanted to keep having a good impression on them because they were important to Brock.  

“You can tell him, he feels the same way.” Her voice was distant, ringing in your ear as the words hit you like a force of air rushing through your lungs. You watched as she looked over at her husband and son, smiling softly, before looking back to you. You were frozen in time, hand firmly on your glass as you circled through her words in your head, dancing around the idea of taking them to heart. 

“Just something to consider.” She said, standing back up and walking inside, leaving you to your thoughts. 

You felt something bubbling up to the surface, feelings that you had tried for so long to keep in a box tucked away. Albeit, you were doing a poor job as of late, but something about what his mom said to you had you thinking about it, taking the chance on Brock, something you’d been telling yourself you don’t need to do for longer than you could remember. You were terrified, even if he did feel the same, that it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t work out and you’d be left alone, in a city that you grew to love because of his company, shattered while you were left to pick up the pieces alone. But you also knew that you couldn’t keep going the way that you had, the two of you dancing around something that had been seemingly so obvious for so long, mere inches from one of you taking the plunge. 

Brock caught your eye from across the yard, a gorgeous smile on his face as he made eye contact with you, eyes squinting slightly from the sun, skin glowing. Something about the way that he looked at you at that moment had everything come crashing to a head for you, and you knew his mom was telling the truth. You knew Brock was just as in love with you as you were with him, and maybe if you let your guard down long enough, your own fears would be powerless to stop it.  

A few hours later you found yourself outside with Brock, the two of you in a comfortable silence as the pinks and oranges flashed through the sky, the sun beginning to set and moon beginning to rise. You had been thinking about what his mom said to you all day, about him feeling the way you felt, willing yourself to just reach out and take his hand, lacing your fingers together like you had done so many times before, only this time the meaning would be more. 

Brock stood up, his sudden movement startling you from your thoughts as he reached his hand out for yours. For a moment, you wondered if he was in your head, taking the leap that you had been wavering back and forth over for quite some time now. 

“Come on, I wanna take you on the water.” He said. You tentatively reached out and placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you up as he threaded your fingers together leading you toward the small boat that was at the dock. He helped guide you over the ledge, using his hands to steady your hips when the boat lurched underneath your legs as you climbed on. You looked around, noticing the pile of pillows and blankets scattered on the floor of the boat deck, a bottle of your favorite wine visible. 

Brock kept his hands steady on your hips for a few seconds as you adjusted to the movement of the water, your eyes curiously wandering around the small scene he had set up, fully intending to take you out for a nice sunset ride on the water. 

“What’s all this?” You asked, feeling your stomach begin to fill with butterflies that Brock had given you so many times up until this point. He just looked at you, a fond smile present on his face while he reached his hand up from your hip, slowly guiding it toward the back of your neck to cradle your head in his hand. You thought, once again that this would be the moment where he would finally kiss you, but instead, you felt his lips touch your forehead, and your thoughts of doubt creep back in. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as he let your body go, motioning for you to sit down as he got the boat away from the dock, the sun setting in the distance. 

The whole time spent navigating to the middle of the lake was quiet but comfortable. You sipping on wine, and Brock steering the boat, sun continuing to set. He had a serious look on his face, and from knowing Brock all of this time, you knew he brought you out here for a reason, one that you only hope would be something good. 

He dropped an anchor in the water, keeping the boat steady when he got to a place he liked. It was beautiful, the water of the lake a gorgeous deep blue, the dark trees casting shadows onto the water as the sun disappeared from the horizon, the moon taking its place in the night. Brock came over to where you were sitting, laying down next to you and watching the stars. He was quiet, deep in thought as you looked at him. 

“Brock,” you started. He turned to face you, leaning up slightly and opening his arms, a silent ask for you to lean into him. You laid down, resting your head onto his chest, on hand sprawled out on his stomach. He reacted quickly, one of his arms wrapping around you, holding you as close to him as possible, fingers pulling slightly on the ends of your hair. He pressed a soft kiss to your head, another action that sent your mind fluttering with worry as you waited for him to speak. The two of you resting in that position, holding each other while the night continued on. 

“I got an offer today.” Brock’s voice broke the silence, vibrating through his chest as he spoke, his hand absentmindedly playing with the tips of your hair. You knew what he was talking about, it was part of the reason you had come with him back home in the first place. Brock was up for a contract in Vancouver, something he desperately wanted, but he also knew that anything is possible in the league, and things can change quickly. You lifted your head up to look at him, pressing your hand into his chest for balance. 

“Where?” You asked, voice small. You didn’t want to let yourself think about what would happen if Brock left Vancouver, and you had managed to push the thought away for weeks. In your mind, Vancouver had to work out, and maybe that was selfish of you to think, but you didn’t care. You knew how much he loved the city and believed in that team, not to mention the friends he had. Moving somewhere would be devastating for him, and you didn’t know how to process what that could do to your friendship if it would even survive at all. 

“Nashville.” He hummed, threading his hand through your hair, resting on the back of your neck. A simple touch, one far too intimate for your supposed dynamic, but that sends chills down your spine. 

Your shoulders slumped as you went over what he just said, repeating Nashville in your head a few times, mentally calculating the distance, trying to justify hanging on when he would be almost half a world away. You felt your heart sink completely, silently closing the door to telling him how you felt that night, realizing that if he was leaving, maybe it wasn’t worth the risk at all.  

“Oh.” You said. Brock sighed, still holding on to your neck, looking you deep in the eyes. 

“I’m still waiting for Vancouver.” He smiled sadly. You looked at him for a moment, recognizing the tenderness in his eyes, the way he was so shakingly trying to keep his worries at bay, to protect you from the possibility that this was your last summer together. You laid your head back onto his chest, focussing your breathing to match his, listening to the steady beat of his heart while you laid there, mulling over the words tumbling through your head. 

“Brock?” You whispered, not daring to move. 

“Yeah?” 

“What happens if you leave? To us?” You tried to sound light, but the shakiness in your voice was difficult to disguise, the only noise surrounding you was the soft rocking of the water, and crickets chirping through the darkness. Brock tightened his arm around you, pulling you further into his chest. It was warm, secure, and for a moment you allowed yourself to drift into a headspace where this was more than it was. Brock was your best friend, but in that moment, you had never felt more sure that all of your feelings were reciprocated, the two of your heartbeats synched. 

“Nothing, no matter where I am, you’re too good for me to not be close to.” You tipped your head up at his words, faces mere inches apart. 

“Do you mean that?” You whispered, already knowing it was the truth. Brock never was dishonest, he wore his heart on his sleeve and proudly carried around the scars that people who didn’t deserve him left. He gently raised his hand to your cheek, offering a reassurance you needed in his expression, eyes connected with yours. 

“Always.” 

You instinctively reached up, threading a hand through his blonde hair. The two of you looked at each other for a moment, your eyes glancing down to his lips. The moment is frozen in time, nothing but the late-night cool breeze passing over your skin, raising goosebumps on your arms, but the only sensation you could feel was your heartbeat in your throat, willing you to take the chance. It was now or never, you thought, needing to show him how you felt, how badly you couldn’t handle it if he went to Nashville, leaving you alone in Vancouver without him by your side. 

Without processing your next move, or allowing yourself to stop, you leaned up and pulled his head down to meet yours, pressing your lips softly to his for the first time. Brock reacted quickly, leaning further into the kiss, moving his lips against yours. Your mind was on overdrive, and your stomach in knots. You had wanted to kiss Brock since the day you tumbled into his apartment, fresh cookies from your infamous stress baking sessions. But somewhere along the way, he became your best friend, and while the thoughts of kissing him never went away, you locked them into a box tucked deep in the cavities of your heart, in hopes that it would protect you from losing him. By kissing him you had taken an ax to the box, ripping it apart at the seams and allowing the feelings to escape, blind to the pressure that you would come to feel from it all in just hours time. 

You tugged on the ends of his hair, the kiss becoming deeper as he pulled you closer to him, every emotion you were both feeling tumbling out from the safe spaces it had been locked in. Brock slowly pulled back, eyes darkened as he looked at you, lips slightly pinker. He had never thought he would get the chance to kiss you, and now that he had, he didn’t think he could ever stop. But, he needed to know you wanted it too, that this wasn’t some fleeting caught up in the moment kiss. 

You smiled at him, a smile that he had seen so many times yet could never get enough of. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his jaw slowly, delicately as your fingers pulled through his hair. He could barely breathe, your lips igniting his skin. He needed to feel every inch of you. 

“Are you sure?” He hummed out, tilting your head up to look at him once more, a question holding more weight than either of you imagined would happen when heading out into the late summer night on that boat. 

“I need you.” was all you said, intently looking at the boy in front of you who had somehow become everything. Brock kissed you quickly, a fire in his eyes and heart that only could be contained by you. You deepened the kiss as he slowly leaned your body back, rolling himself to hover over you. Your hands ran up his chest, settling back into his hair. One of his hands firmly pressed into the dock, steadying himself as his other snaked under the sweatshirt of his you had on, settling on your bare skin just above your hip.

Your breathing started to get heavier as his lips left yours, trailing softly down your neck and collar bones. His hands slowly sliding up your sides, resting just below the line of your bra. He pulled back slightly to look at you, admiring once again how beautiful he thought that you were. You knew what he was going to ask next, Brock was always the type to need clear consent before doing anything. You reached a hand up to his cheek, lifting your head to press your lips to his softly once more.

“It’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled, thankful for the only light being the moon so that he couldn’t see your flushed cheeks. Brock pulled his hand from your sweatshirt, reaching up to grab yours in his, lacing your fingers together and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a move that sent butterflies into your stomach.

“Are you sure?” He needed to hear you say it, he needed to make sure this feeling was real, and that he wasn’t just imagining what was about to happen with you. You squeezed his hand softly, words firm as you spoke.

“I want you, Brock, all of you.” He took his time, hands gently peeling the clothes off your body, reassuring kisses splattered all over your neck and chest. You leaned into him tugging softly on his hair while you felt his whole weight on top of you. Your mind was hazy, thinking of nothing but this moment with Brock, how good it felt to finally have him. 

He laced his fingers through yours, pinning your hands down as he slowly entered you, his body hovering above yours. Moans softly filling the air as the pace picks up, your bodies flush against one another as you irrevocably cross a line in your friendship in the darkness, stars floating brightly in the sky, the only illuminance reflected on the still water.

---------

Brock swore he imagined it, you kissing him the night before, the way his hand fit tightly in yours, the soft breaths you took underneath him. And when he woke up to the light shining through the curtains, and you curled up under his arm he worried for a moment he was still in the dream. He lay there, listening to the soft snores coming from your slightly parted lips, admiring how at peace you looked. It was only when he realized you were in only his shirt, a hint of red marks peeking out from the collar that he realized he hadn’t been in a hazy dream after all. It was real, you and him, it was all real and he was determined to make it last.

“Morning,” Brock mumbled, pressing a light kiss into your shoulder. You opened your eyes slowly, memories of the night before flashing through your mind. You curl your body into Brock’s, and he pulls his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together. Your mind was racing, every emotion running through you. Brock kept peppering kisses along your shoulder, something that was far more intimate than friends should be doing. This was what you always wanted with him. So why did it feel like you were standing in a forest, waiting for the tree to drop on top of you, knocking you out of the dream world that you must have been residing in. 

“Brock.” You whispered, daring yourself to break the silence. You felt your insides twisting, your stomach rumbling with nerves as you laid entwined with him. It didn’t feel real, and the longer you put off the inevitable conversation, the worse the heartbreak for you would be when he told you it didn’t mean anything or was a mistake. 

“Yeah, baby?” He said, lifting his head up from your shoulder. You shifted in his arms, detaching yourself from him and sitting up in the bed. You felt exposed, laying there with nothing but a thin linen sheet covering your body, knowing that you had slept with Brock not once, but twice the night before. You bit your lip, avoiding his eye as he sat up next to you, running his hand through his hair. 

Brock was nervous, you weren’t reacting how he assumed you would, and part of him wondered if last night was some fever dream. Something he imagined happening, but your naked bodies next to each other confirmed the reality of the position you two had put yourselves in. He wanted you, he wanted everything with you. He wanted to hold your hand all the time, kiss you whenever he wanted. He wanted to hold you while you cried and help wipe the tears away. He wanted to be yours and only yours, for as long as you’d have him, and the memories of your body entangled with his was pushing his heart to finally open up his heart fully to you, even if you already unknowingly held it in your hands. 

“So, last night…” you trailed off, gripping the sheet closer to your chest. You were feeling more anxious with each breath you took, heart, filling with regret of your own actions as you sat there next to Brock. He smiled at you softly, no indication that anything was wrong, and although that should have reassured you that it would all be fine, something about it made you more uneasy. You opened your mouth to speak, willing your brain to somehow come up with everything that your heart wanted to say, only no words came out. Brock sensed your uneasiness and tried to grab your hand. You pulled yourself further away, not wanting to push the boundaries that you bulldozed through the night before. 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Brock’s words rang in your ear, echoing in your mind as you felt your breathing constrict as if you were underwater, gasping for a final breath of air to fill your lungs. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, the words coming from his lips were so sincere, so heartfelt, and was what you thought you would want to feel in this situation. He watched you carefully, reading the signs of apprehension on your face, his heart pace quickening.

“I think I have been for a long time honestly, you just, you’re my best friend. But you’re more than that, you’re who I want to call in the middle of the night when I’m feeling down, you’re who I can’t wait to come home to after weeks away. You’re who I want next to me at every moment. I want to hold you all the time, comfort you when you’re sad, and celebrate with you when something good happens. God, you’re everything, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known.” He continued. He looked so happy, the weight of his words weighing heavily in the air, causing you to further sink into the bed, grasping on to the sheet like you were on the edge of a mountain, hanging on for dear life. You were biting your lip so hard, nearly drawing blood as he told you everything your heart wanted to hear. But it all felt wrong. 

“Brock, you don’t love me, we just-” you struggled to find the words, not wanting to hurt him even though you were caving into your own insecurities and fears. You weren’t sure what you were doing, letting your brain sabotage what your heart desperately wanted, images flooding your mind about the pressures of being Brock Boeser’s girlfriend, what it all meant, how it would change you. You wanted nothing more at that moment than to go back to the day before and return to pining over him from afar because it was easier. It was easier when you didn’t know what his lips felt like against yours when you didn’t know that he was in love with you.   

“I love you, and I want to be with you.” He said, his voice firm, eyes locked in yours. Brock was trying to hand you his heart, it was there, alive and beating in his hands and all you had to do was reach out and take it. All you had to do was say the three words back to him that you knew you had been feeling for years. But you couldn’t. 

“Brock, we can’t.” Was all you managed to get out, your head hung down in shame. You didn’t see how his face fell, because you didn’t let yourself. You told yourself this was for the best, that Brock deserved someone better than you. Brock deserved to be with someone who he could give the world to, who could be waiting for him no matter where he went, and someone who he would be proud to show to the world. You felt your throat closing up and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You weren’t even strong enough to face him, knowing what you were doing to him. 

“Oh.” He said, turning his head to look at you. He felt like his world crashed right in front of him, the best thing he could ever have just out of the reach of his fingertips. A lingering taste from the one bite of you that he got to take. You were starting to cry, and for the first time in the years that he had known you, he was at a loss for how to help. Everything felt murky between you, the lines blurred together past the point of visibility, a comforting touch felt like too much now that he had opened his heart, unrequited.

He had thought this summer with you had been different, a shift in the trajectory of your friendship, built up feelings finally coming out into the open. You looked at him differently, glances lingering past the point of friendship, dancing along blindly in what he thought were reciprocated feelings. Brock was never good at reading the signs, but something in the way you gravitated to him over the past month disillusioned him into believing what he felt was mutual, that the sex the night before meant something more to you. He had never felt more sure of anything than he did as he kissed you, only to wake up the next morning and have you rip it all away. A dirty mistake that it seemed like you couldn’t wait to forget.   

---------

The first few weeks back home you spent locked away in your apartment, ignoring every phone call, every text, any attempt at contact that wasn’t Brock. You didn’t expect him to call, but you wholeheartedly wished he would, because if you could, you would take it all back. You knew that stepping onto that plane you were burning down the best bridge you had ever built, and now here you were, broken and battered, walking along the edge of steel beams as you tried to forge it back together. But you knew you couldn’t, that bridge was built by two sets of hands, not one. 

It took three weeks before Holly showed up at your door, baby in tow, demanding you get dressed and come with her. You did as she asked, carefully showering for the first time in days, putting on the slightest bit of makeup to attempt at hiding the dark puffy skin under your eyes, an indication of your lack of sleep since you returned to the city. 

Your head rested on the window as she drove you out of downtown and closer toward East Vancouver. You didn’t have to guess where she was taking you as the familiar scenery passed by. When she parked outside of your favorite brunch place, you sighed quietly, appreciative of her efforts even if you weren’t hungry. You waited patiently as she grabbed Gunnar, buckling him up into the stroller before walking into the restaurant. It was a small hole in the wall place, with an outdoor seating area with white metal awning, decorated in lights and ivy, and earthy atmosphere as strangers chatted away eating their breakfasts, mimosas steadily flowing. 

You sat down, listening to her catch you up on things with Bo and the baby, an obvious attempt at trying to distract you from your own thoughts. You appreciated her effort, you really did, but you weren’t ready to be outside of the safety of your apartment just yet. You nodded and hummed along as you listened to her talk, feeling nauseous once your food was placed in front of you. Your mind drifting back to the time you took Brock here, and the two of you got drunk on a Sunday from mimosas, having to walk around the neighborhood for hours before sobering up completely enough to drive back home. 

“Okay, something happened with Brock. I’ve gathered that much, and I’m worried about you. Talk to me.” She finally tried, a reassuring look on her face. You didn’t know if she knew the whole story, if Brock had told anyone what happened, you had to guess that he was feeling bad enough to contact Bo about it, you had really messed him up. You slipped into the story, telling Holly about how you felt, and how you hurt the best person to have ever been in your life, tears settling into your eyes, threatening to spill out as you reopened the painful wound, still fresh from the weeks before. 

“I don’t know how to fix it.” You whispered to Holly, looking down at the table setting in front of you. You twirled the fork in between your fingers, food remaining untouched on your plate as you sat in the restaurant with Holly. She sighed and shook her head softly at you. You could tell by the purse of her lips and the look in her eye that she was preparing to tell you something that you likely wouldn’t want to hear. You were okay with that though because, at the end of it all, you were the one who hurt Brock. You left him in Minnesota, and while you wanted to fix it, you had to come to terms with the realization that some things are beyond repair.  

Holly set her fork down, leaning into the stroller that was sitting to the right of her. You watched as she picked up Gunnar, who was fussing. You hated that your mind instantly went to Brock. Knowing that if you hadn’t have let your fears outweigh what you felt in your heart, that he would have been it for you. You knew that. Deep down you knew that it was always supposed to be him. 

Brock poured his heart out to you that morning after in Minnesota, sharing the most vulnerable pieces of himself with you. All you gave him in return was nothing but lies, and the image of you packing your suitcase, going back to Vancouver without him. The worst part was that as soon as you stepped foot on that plane, you knew what you had done. You knew you had broken the only person you had ever loved, and you still didn’t stop yourself. 

It was like you were outside of your own body, watching as someone else sat on the tarmac, music softly playing in their headphones, head leaned against the airplane window. You left Minnesota as a different person, someone who was broken beyond belief, but it was at the hand of your own actions. 

Holly cleared her throat, bringing your head back into the moment. 

“Bo said he’s never seen him like this before and I don’t think he’ll see you, not right now.” She started, a solemn silence between you as she chose her next words carefully. You perked up at this, not knowing that Brock was back in Vancouver yet. You knew it had to be any day, with how training usually went for the team, but something about knowing he had returned and gone to Bo broke your heart even more, and you wondered if he found himself walking around the city as empty-hearted as you were.  

“You know I love you, right? You’re one of my best friends. But, what you did, If I were Brock I wouldn’t forgive you either.” It was harsh, and it stung hearing it come from her lips. But you knew she was right, and if you settled into a thought where Brock had done that to you, you probably wouldn’t give him a chance either. 

Your eyes welled up with tears. You avoided Holly’s gaze, bringing the sleeve of Brock’s sweatshirt that you were wearing up to wipe your eyes. It was the only thing of his you had managed to hang onto, something old from his rookie year, the 6 faded on the side, Boeser still clear on the back.  

“I know.” Were the only words you could seem to find, your heart feeling heavy in your chest.

“Look, Brock loves you, right? He’s so in love with you, he has been for a long time, and God knows his heart is way bigger than all of ours. Just, give him some time.” Holly said. You tried to take her words as hopeful, but you worried deep down that you were permanently destined to live a life without him, nothing but an old sweatshirt and memories of your time together. 

 Brock had been feeling like the air hadn’t returned to his lungs since you left all those weeks ago. He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head, rethinking over what he said if he could have changed your mind, but most importantly why he even told you how he felt at all. He knew it was a risk to lay every card he had on the metaphorical table in front of you, but after that night on the boat, he thought he knew you would feel the same. He thought he knew you, and that it would end with your hand in his for the foreseeable future. Instead, the cards blew up in the air, disillusioned by the words you spoke, words he believed because you wouldn’t lie to him. 

The worst part about it was that he wasn’t mad at you, how could he be? No person can help how they feel. A moment shared the night before, the lingering touches and your soft moans filling the room, didn’t mean to you what they did to him, and he could never have found it in his heart to be upset by that. But when you left that morning, he knew in his heart and mind that he couldn’t just go back to being friends with you. He couldn’t allow you to have any piece of him anymore, because all it did was confine his feelings back inside, shoved away for no one to experience but him. He was in love with you, and he didn’t know how to go back to being friends and make that go away. He didn’t know how to look at you without remembering how you felt beneath him, how complete he felt when his hands tangled in yours, lips exploring one another. 

Brock spent those last few weeks in Minnesota trying to piece together how his life would look without you. He became a bit of a recluse, spending most of his days out on the water with his dogs, unplugged from his phone and friends, only answering if it had something to do with work. He let himself go through the motions as if it were a breakup because, in a way, it was. Losing a friend, especially when it was you, hurt him in a way that most other losses hadn’t. 

You were there for him through every good or bad thing that had happened in his life since moving to Vancouver. Every win or loss, his injuries, every doubt he had as a rookie, every trade rumor, and every success. But it wasn’t just his career you had been there for, you were there through his life too. When he worried about his dad, you were the first person he would call. He smiled at the memories of you knocking on his door every time he felt anxious about his family, cookies, and wine in hand, ready to be the shoulder for him to cry on. You never questioned him or made him feel bad when he was upset. You just were you, and your comfort was all he needed to feel better. 

You were such a part of his routine that it took him almost two weeks to stop opening your contact in his phone, willing himself not to call you. He hated that his first instinct most mornings was to check in on you, to see how you were feeling after all of it. He grew resentful, but only at himself for his own emotions. The resentment melted into sadness as the time for him to go back to Vancouver grew closer. He didn’t know what would happen when he came back. For the first time in his career, he dreaded going back, not because he didn’t want to play, but because it meant being back in the city where every step he took reminded him of you. 

His condo felt different without your presence, and for the first time since you moved out of that building, he was grateful you no longer lived across the hall. He at least didn’t have to worry about seeing you in the elevator, or breaking his convictions and knocking on your door. 

He took his time settling back in, slowly gathering any lingering items of yours and carefully placing them into a box. He’d been through breakups before, but nothing compared to losing someone like you. When he had finally rid his apartment of your belongings, he taped the box shut and set it by the door, trying to forget about it. Sometimes Coolie would sniff it, probably recognizing your smell from the items inside. 

Brock settled into the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he opened the container of takeout that Elias had brought over. He fiddled with the remote, opening up Netflix to queue up the latest episode of Gossip Girl. He patted the spot next to him on the couch, motioning for Coolie to jump up. When he did, he settled in next to Brock, on top of the grey throw blanket that was draped over the cushions.

Elias took his time in Brock’s kitchen, scanning the apartment and looking at his friend. He knew Brock was miserable, and as much as Petey loved you, his loyalties were here. He carried his takeout container in one hand, the smell of the Thai food from down the street wafting into the air, two beers in his other hand and he walked to his spot on Brock’s couch. He set the beer down on the table, glass beginning to frost from the sudden change in temperature. He leaned back, eyeing the box by the front door suspiciously. 

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing toward the object in question. Brock stiffened, glancing over where Petey was nodding toward. 

“It’s all her stuff.” he sighed, not wanting to get into the subject. Petey knew what happened, as far as Brock was concerned, they didn’t need to divulge into the details once more. What Brock needed was a distraction from all of it, and Petey was happy to be there for his friend, even finally agreeing to watch Gossip Girl, which Brock had been asking him to do for months. 

The pair sat on the couch in silence, eating and drinking while watching a few episodes of the show, before Petey left to return home, and Brock drifted into his bed. When he woke up the next morning, the box was gone. 

---------

It was mid-October, three months since that morning back at his home in Minnesota. The season had just started, and the rain was starting to settle into Vancouver, a grey sky covering the city most days. He found himself settling into the familiarity of life during the season, but it didn’t feel the same. He woke up most days feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart should be, mourning over a loss that he didn’t know how to comprehend. You were still there in his mind, and while over the last few months it had become less frequent, he still wasn’t able to go any substantial amount of time without thinking about you. 

He pulled his hood further onto his head as the rain started to come down harder. It was late morning on a rare day off. He was looking down at his phone as he pulled the door to the coffee shop open, the creaking from the worn-out wood filling the air. 

“Oh god, sorry!” A voice startled him, one that sent him spiraling down a highway of memories he had spent the last three months trying to forget. He knew it was you, the voice unmistakable. 

“Oh, uhm-” You started, and then cut yourself off. The two of you frozen there in the doorway, rain coming down. He hated every moment of this, an ache is his chest resurfacing harshly the longer time stood still with you in front of him. He looked at you, noticing that your hair was shorter, your eyes not quite as bright as they were before, a small frown settling on your features. You looked sad, and like you had been sad for a long time. 

Brock often wondered what it would be like to run into you again, after having not seen each other for months. He wondered if it would happen organically, a chance run-in like the situation he was in now, or if you would show up to some event, knowing that his friends were still yours. For the first time since everything happened, he felt a different emotion seeing you, his heart clouding his head with resentment for what you did, the anger at your actions finally bubbling through to the surface. 

You looked at Brock and saw a fragment of the boy you knew before, the one you ripped apart without a second thought, the one who invaded your dreams every night, haunting you of your past mistakes. You could have had a beautiful thing with Brock, and you let your fears overtake your mind and broke his heart in the process. You hadn’t spoken to Brock since the day you left, only hearing fragments about how he was from Holly when she was nice enough to share. She was the only one who would talk to you, the rest of your mutual friends cutting you out for what you did. You didn’t blame them, they were Brock’s family, not yours. But you couldn’t pretend that when Elias showed up with a box of your belongings, not uttering more than the words, “Brock wanted to give these back.” that your heart didn’t collapse with your body after you closed the door, letting the sobs overtake you. 

You never opened that box, not wanting to relive any of the memories trapped inside, lingering in the belongings you had left with him over the years, the gifts you had given him probably tossed haphazardly in. You knew it was what you deserved, even someone with as big of a heart as Brock couldn’t forgive you for what you did, and you had to live with the consequences of that. Instead, choosing to see him only in your dreams, or scattered around the city in memories. 

You knew living in the same area you risked the possibility of running into him again, especially since you two frequented the same places, the only difference now was that you did it alone. And while you thought about it, you never knew how it would make you feel to be in the same space as him again. It felt familiar, and almost every part of you longed to touch him, to reach out and push yourself into him and fix what you broke, but looking at him only confirmed the suspicions that you had that he wanted no part of your life anymore. 

You stood in the doorway of the old coffee shop unable to move, your coffee securely held in your hand as you took in his appearance. He looked tired, his beard had grown out more than it usually was, his eyes dull. Your heart ached to know that you caused this, that all Brock wanted was to give you the world and you ripped it out from under him.      

The moment only lasted a few seconds, with Brock turning his body away from you, no words escaping his lips as he continued into the shop, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk in the rain. Before the door shut completely, you opened it back up, figuring that if this was the only time you’d ever see him again, at least he would know that you were sorry. 

“Brock-” you tried, grabbing onto his arm. You winced softly as he shook it from your grasp, eyes cold as he looked at you. 

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” His voice was soft but harsh as he looked at you one last time, turning once again to leave you standing, stomach twisting, and eyes beginning to water. You’d never seen Brock so cold, and knowing you were the one that caused it broke you beyond belief. 

You went home that day, the image of his face as he walked away burning in your mind as you curled up in bed and let yourself cry over the boy you were still hopelessly in love with.  

Brock stood in that coffee shop for what felt like hours, agonizing over the small interaction before finally getting his coffee and leaving. He thought about it for the rest of the day, thinking of how different you looked, how you weren’t the same person he thought he knew inside and out. He thought about how maybe he was too harsh with you, seeing the broken look on your face when he said he didn’t want to talk, eyes filling with tears.  

Brock went out to his balcony, sitting on one of the chairs, a place where he often went when he needed to think. You had basically become an intruder in his mind, invading his thoughts when he desperately wanted you erased. All he could think about was the summer, your hair blowing with the breeze while you sang loudly along to the radio, driving through back roads in his hometown. You were like a time capsule he couldn’t seal, instead he saw visions of you in old photographs taken on a disposable camera dancing through his mind, one by one, each a memory of him falling more in love with you. But the thing about photographs is they fade, the ink turns a different color when exposed to heat, and his confession ended up being the heat that warped the photographs of you, turning them into nothing but what was supposed to be fond nostalgia of the girl he loved. 

He thought about you the rest of the week, living almost on autopilot as he shuffled himself from practice to games. His mind was so out of it, that he didn’t see a bad check coming from the Vegas player, sending his body curtailing toward the boards, head making contact with the ice as he fell. He managed to get up, limping back through the player tunnel to get looked at, every moment after that a blur. 

He wished it was only that night where his game was affected, but the symptoms followed through practice the next day. He wasn’t skating as fast, he was missing calls, and fumbling over drills that were normally second nature to him. His teammates and coaches all noticed, frustrated with his lack of ability to separate his personal life from the game, but also worried that his lack of focus was going to get him seriously hurt. 

Brock’s inability to disassociate from that short interaction was affecting his career, and when he spent the next game as a healthy scratch for the first time since playing in Vancouver, he was so broken that he couldn’t find the energy within himself to care. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Bo appeared at his front door, his six-month-old baby strapped to him, a hard but concerned look on his face as he let himself inside Brock’s condo. 

“Sure, come in,” Brock said harshly, wanting to be alone.

Bo looked around the room, walking into the kitchen to a scene he had never seen from Brock before. There were dishes piled in the sink, unopened mail piled up on the counter, empty take out bags piled up by the recycling bin. He sighed, unstrapping Gunnar from his chest and handing him to Brock. Brock reacted quickly, taking the baby boy into his arms and walking over to sit on the couch, holding him tightly to his chest. 

He distracted himself with the baby as Bo silently cleaned the kitchen. He was sitting there, letting Gunnar bite on his fingers while he waited for anything from his captain, bracing himself for what was likely to be a long conversation, especially now that Bo had taken it upon himself to clean up the mess Brock left, not bothering to do it himself. 

“You need to get your shit together,” Bo said, walking back over to the couch, wiping his hands on his jeans before holding his arms out, indicating he wanted his baby back. Brock handed over Gunnar, sighing softly as he ran a hand through his hair, unwashed for two days now. 

“And take a fucking shower, you look like shit.” He added, words harsh but true. Brock knew he was a mess, his beard growing out, hair slightly greasy, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his physical appearance, and he didn’t feel like it mattered, it’s not like he had anyone to impress lately anyways. He didn’t say anything, he just let his eyes follow his captain as he sat down with the baby. He cursed Bo for bringing Gunnar, knowing it was a calculated move to ease into what was going to be a serious conversation, he knew Brock loved babies, and that it would soften the harsh words that were probably moments from coming. 

“Look, you’re my friend above all else, I hate seeing you like this. But I’m also your captain, and it’s my job to keep your head focussed.” Bo started, Gunnar making soft noises while he spoke. Brock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, bracing himself for the confrontation. 

“I know.” Was all he managed in response. 

“Holly had brunch with her a few weeks ago, she’s a wreck, Brock.” Bo softly said, hating seeing two people that he cared about hurting like this. While he was frustrated with Brock as a captain, wanting better from his teammate, he also realized that maybe right now Brock needed him as his friend. 

Brock’s head shot up at that, hearing that Holly had seen you. Part of him felt a weird satisfaction that you were maybe just as messed up as he was, hurting over what happened still. Brock spent most of his time wondering why he seemingly wasn’t capable of getting over you, moving on, letting it all go. You didn’t feel the same way, and while he understood that, he didn’t understand why you left the way that you did, ripping apart the friendship that had been such a stable for both of you, or so he thought. But a small part of him, one that he wasn’t proud of, was feeling smug at the fact that you were likely not entangled with anyone else, that you were just as hurt as he was. Hearing that you were a wreck and not emotionless about it at least meant that you cared about him in some capacity, that maybe the friendship at least meant to you what it did to him before it all blew up in his face. 

“Oh?” Brock questioned, unsure of if he truly wanted to hear just how bad you were doing, already feeling the guilt bubbling in his chest from moments before, his mind flashing back to the look on your face as he harshly pulled away from you, the memory causing a dull ache in his chest.

“I’m not here to tell you how to live your life, but she misses you. A lot. Holly didn’t tell me everything, and I know I don’t know fully what happened, but it might be worth hearing her out.” Gunnar started crying, interrupting Bo for a few moments while he soothed his baby, Brock mulling over the words from his friend. 

Coolie came running out of the bedroom at the sound of Gunnar’s cries, a soft plush dog toy in his mouth as he jumped up to the couch, settling in near Bo and the baby, his tail slightly wagging, ready to make Gunnar feel better. Brock’s heart rate quickened, and he hated himself for his thoughts once again turning to you, an image of you holding a newborn, Coolie next to you on the couch as you rocked the baby to sleep. It scared him how you could hurt him so badly and yet he still imagined a whole life with you that would never happen because you didn’t feel the same. 

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Bo,” Brock said, slowly beginning to feel like he could open up to someone. He hadn’t shared with anyone the true details of what happened between you, he never mentioned the night on the boat, or the morning after, simply telling them that something happened in Minnesota and you left. 

“What happened? Why did she leave?” Bo tentatively asked, hoping that Brock felt okay enough to finally let someone in. 

Brock took a deep breath, launching himself slowly into telling Bo what really happened three months ago, opening the wound that had been haphazardly stitched up with blood seeping through the bandages ever since he got back to Vancouver. Bo listened intently, never interrupting as Brock stumbled through some parts of the memories, not commenting when Brock’s voice became thick, or when he let the tears escape from his eyes, finally freeing himself of this problem he had kept locked away for months. It hurt to recount the entire event, but Brock also felt like a weight was lifting from his body as he spoke, freeing himself from the loneliness of overanalyzing each action you took and the word you said. It felt good to let someone into the mess that was his mind. 

“You need to hear her out.” Was all that Bo responded with, a serious tone to his voice as he looked over at Brock cautiously, gauging what reaction might come from those words. Brock’s eyes widened a bit, a frown still evident on his face, slight hints of surprise filling his features at what Bo said. He wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I don’t know what the outcome will be, I don’t know if it will fix things between you. But this?” Bo gestured to Brock’s state, a slight dig at his heartbroken and pathetic appearance. 

“It has to stop. It’s affecting your game, and your ability to function. So call her, figure it out, get the answers you need and either fix it or move on.” 

Brock glared at his phone that was resting on the counter. He spent the last few hours after Bo had been there cleaning up his apartment, metaphorically piecing back together some sense of normalcy. Then he took a shower, letting himself mull over the idea of calling you, wondering if you’d even pick up the phone. He trimmed his beard, not fully shaving it, blocking out that he knew you liked his beard, remembering your fingertips on his cheek before some event he took you to. The old photograph of the memory coming into view of you saying you liked how it made him look, a soft smile on your lips as you spoke, cheeks heating up from the compliments you gave. That was the first time he remembered that he realized the things he was feeling for you weren’t what a friend would feel for another friend. 

It was late fall, the Canucks annual charity dinner in full swing. You had come as Brock’s date that night, meeting most of the team for the first time. They had all heard about you before, offering knowing smiles as you entered the event with Brock’s arm around your waist. Even if Brock didn’t know how he felt, they all did. They watched as his eyes lingered on you for a little too long, how he danced with you slowly, keeping his arm securely locked on your hip as if you were the only two in the room.

Brock slowly picked up his phone, fingers tapping methodically toward your contact, something he hadn’t opened in weeks but still came naturally, a muscle memory that he never lost. He wasn’t sure if it was Bo’s words that got him to this point, or if it was him finally accepting that maybe you deserved to be heard out, but as he thought back to that first night of realizing his feelings, his mind danced through the memories fondly, them sparkling bright like the stars that night on the boat. 

You had just gotten off of an entirely too long conversation with your mother, one that had your head pounding and all you could think about was the bottle of red wine sitting on your counter and the hot bath that you were going to take. Between brunch with Holly that week, seeing Brock, and your mom, you needed to take whatever energy you had left and try to relax. You grabbed the bottle, foregoing the glass as you walked into your bathroom, turning on the water as hot as you could. Maybe if you made it hot enough, you’d feel something other than the ache in your chest. 

Seeing Brock felt like a figment of your imagination, and even though you knew you got the reaction that you deserved, that didn’t mean that it didn’t wreck the already fragmented pieces of your heart. Things had been hard since you left him in his bedroom, eyes wide in shock, heart burst and bleeding on his sleeve. You hadn’t slept in what felt like weeks, barely getting through the motions of each day, walking around Vancouver, and feeling him around you. You didn’t dare step foot far enough into downtown where Rogers Arena was, you couldn’t handle being near the building for fear of what it would do to you mentally. 

You ignored hockey completely, tuning out the team, only hearing the bits and pieces that Holly told you the few times you had seen or spoken to her. The Canucks were too much of a tie to Brock, and you couldn’t handle watching them, seeing him on the tv, so instead, you tuned it out. But none of that compared to seeing him again, at the old coffee shop you first forged a friendship with him in, the only place you still allowed yourself to sometimes go when you needed a small taste of memories of him that were happy. 

You sat in the bath until the water went cold, slowly working your way through too much wine to be acceptable for one person to drink on a Tuesday evening. You allowed yourself to cry, letting the tears silently roll down your cheeks, bubbles slowly melting away in the water, telling yourself that this was the last time you’d let yourself cry about Brock. He didn’t want anything to do with you anymore, a notion that you were now acutely aware of, his harsh words echoing in your mind with each sip coming straight from the bottle. 

You get out of the bath, tossing on a pair of soft shorts and a big t-shirt, swaying into the kitchen, in a wine drunken haze. For the first time in a long time, you felt an emotion that you didn’t think you’d ever feel, acceptance. It was okay how Brock felt, it was okay that he didn’t want to hear you out, and while you still felt regret over your decision, part of you started to come around to the idea that there would be a life without Brock. Maybe it wasn’t today, but someday you were going to be able to open up those years of memories with him and they wouldn’t hurt, they’d instead be looked at fondly. Brock saw a side of you that no one else got to, and even if it all went wrong, you don’t regret sharing just a small portion of your life with him. 

You tapped on your phone, connecting it to your speakers in your kitchen, turning on a relaxing playlist. Before you could realize what you were doing, you opened the cabinets, carefully pulling out the ingredients for baking soft chocolate chip cookies, something you hadn’t done in months. Baking used to always be your escape, but when you left Brock, even that stress and pain was too much to get you to pull out the mixer. The heartbreak you felt couldn’t be fixed with chocolate chip cookies, not this time. But, as you stood there, wine drunk in your kitchen with music playing softly, you finally felt like you could bake again. 

You were startled when the music coming from your phone stopped, the generic ringtone indicating someone was calling now coming from the speakers. You ignored it, letting the ringing continue until it sent whoever it was to voicemail, assuming it was your mom calling again, something you didn’t have the energy for. You were finally feeling somewhat okay, you didn’t need her in your ear about fixing things with Brock for the second time that day. When the phone rang a second time, and then a third, you resolved to the fact that whoever was calling must have had something important to say. 

You picked up your phone, heart in your throat as it went to voicemail a final time. You froze seeing the bubble on your home screen indicating you had three missed calls, all from Brock. His name never felt weirder to see on your screen, the emojis he put in there still present, something that used to always be on your phone but had since vanished. You couldn’t wrap your mind about why he would call, let alone call three times, but your heart feared the worst. Maybe something happened to his dad, maybe something happened to him, or the dog. You didn’t know, but when your phone lit up again for the fourth time, this time a picture of you and Brock lighting up the screen, you answered almost immediately. 

“Brock?” You said, tentatively, you didn’t know what the tone of the conversation would be, and your stomach was racing with nerves. 

“Yeah, uhm, hi. Hi.” He stuttered, clearly nervous to be calling you. 

You gulped, sitting down on the stool by the island, legs dangling down, fingers nervously tapping on the counter. The wine you drank seemingly evaporating from your system, your mind falsely clear as you took in his voice. God, you missed hearing his voice. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, worriness present in your voice. Brock picked up on it right away, reassuring you everything was fine and that bad news wasn’t why he was calling. 

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He started, referring to your run-in at the coffee shop.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Brock.” You softly spoke, terrified if you said too much that he would remember that he was talking to you, and hang up. 

“I do, that wasn’t fair of me to treat you that way, and I’m sorry for it.” He said, his voice was firm but still soft. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head through the phone, picturing him, probably in his kitchen at the same place you were, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. Before you could say anything in response, he spoke again,

“I was hoping we could talk if you’re up for it?” Your eyes widened at his words, something you weren’t expecting to hear from him. Not that you expected a call from him at all, but let alone an invitation to talk. 

“Now?” You asked, unsure if he meant on the phone or something else. 

“If you’re free? I uhm, I got curry, from that place you like?” He offered. You couldn’t believe how small his voice sounded on the phone, so much weight held in an offer for curry, something that used to be a routine. 

“I can’t drive, I had some wine.” You started, Brock exhaling in response.

“No, no, uhm, I can take an uber. Be there soon?” You said, not entirely confident in your voice or words but hopeful for what was to come. 

“Yeah, yeah that works. Keycode is still the same, just, come up.” He said. The conversation felt awkward, two people who had been through so much, trying to navigate the broken pieces of a love that was almost everything.  

You walked into his apartment nervously, for the first time since knowing Brock, you truly felt like you didn’t belong there. You felt as if it was something was off. Brock looked better than he did the last time you saw him, his beard was trimmed, his hair clean, and his eyes didn’t look as tired. You felt uncomfortable there, standing in his kitchen while you waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, you found yourself getting more anxious, wanting to do anything to break the silence as he looked at you. 

“Brock, how did we get here?” you asked, instantly regretting the question as soon as the words slipped fom your lips. It was a question that you already knew the answer to, because it was a situation that had the blood on your hands. 

Brock sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, jumping right into the discussion that had been put off for entirely too long now. 

“It was never me that didn’t know what they wanted. I told you that I wanted you. I meant it. And you left. You let me have you for one night and you left.” Brock said, eyes watering. He was standing across the counter from you and all you could think about was pulling yourself into his arms and trying to make it better. But you couldn’t, you lost that right the second you walked out all those months ago. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, leaning a bit on the counter as you smiled sadly at him.

“Brock, I love everything about you. You make everything better. You make me love the things I hate about myself because you’re you. And you love them, why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” You felt like your head was spinning with each word that you spoke, your heart beginning to beat faster as you wished he could put himself inside of it, feeling every emotion you felt, trusting that what you were saying was the truth. You knew you didn’t deserve that trust, you could only hope that Brock would see past your mistake, and remember who you were. 

“I’ve never been in love before, not until you. All of those feelings were only for you. And there you were, giving yourself to me and it scared me. Brock, it scared me so bad that all I knew how to do was run. And I know that’s not fair, you deserve more answers than that, you deserve someone who isn’t scared. But that’s the truth, and you deserve the truth.” Your voice was cracking as you spoke, words pouring out of your chest that you weren’t sure made sense anymore. You watched Brock carefully, trying to piece together the expressions on his face that you couldn’t decipher. You felt like you didn’t even recognize him anymore, that you were just two people who knew each other years before, and you didn’t know how a few mere months could do that to two hearts that were so closely connected. 

“I just don’t understand how you can say all that, but when I told you I loved you, you left.” He said, voice cracking, tone matching yours. He ran a hand over his face, bringing his eyes to yours. He was trying to think of the right words to say, letting his mind process everything you told him. He couldn’t even focus on the fact that you just threw your heart over the table because there was a part of him that wasn’t allowing himself to believe you. 

“I never would have been mad at you for not feeling the same, but you tore apart everything. Feelings aside, you picked up our friendship and threw it overboard when you decided to leave. I would have gotten over my feelings, but you decided that wasn’t enough, and that our entire friendship no longer was worth saving.” His words were harsh, cutting you deep because you didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his friendship. You were standing on the edge of the boat, trying to reel in all of your emotions and Brock came crashing into you like a wave in a storm, and every fight or flight instinct had you thinking the best course of an option was to throw yourself overboard. 

“Brock you were everything to me. I fell in love with you almost a year ago. You were everything I ever wanted and then it happened and it was so good that it scared me, and I fucked it all up. I let every insecurity tell me that it could never work.” Your voice breaking, desperately trying to make him believe what you were saying. If this was the last time you saw him, you needed him to know you loved him. Maybe that was selfish, but after all this time you still did, and after what you did, he deserved the whole truth.

“I just need you, to be honest with me.” Brock sighs. Your words should have been enough, and his heart and head were colliding as he tried to figure out what to do. He hated seeing you cry, he hated that he was in a way doing to you what you did to him by letting you release every feeling you had, offering next to nothing in return. But, another part of him felt like it was fair, and that he shouldn’t feel bad for making you give him answers. He spent months trying to get over you, trying to comprehend how one night made everything go so wrong, and maybe the answers would settle the battle in his heart and he could finally forgive you. 

“Honest about what, Brock? About how I’ve spent every day since thinking about how I let go of the best thing I ever had? About how I painfully relieve what it felt like landing back in Vancouver knowing you were thousands of miles away hurting because of me? About how I’m still so madly in love with you that it's just aching in my chest I can’t get rid of no matter how hard I try?”

“Did you regret it? Leaving?” Brock whispered.

“The moment I got to the airport, I haven't stopped regretting it since.” The tears were freely falling down your cheeks. You watched in confusion as Brock walked to you, coming closer than he’d been in a long time. Before you could process his next moves, he took your face in his hands, pressing your lips together in a kiss.

You responded quickly, instinctively kissing him back, it was different than last time, probably because of the intensity, both of you trying to communicate your love for each other in the moment. Brock deepened the kiss, lifting you up and setting you on the counter, hands digging into your thighs. You could feel all of him, and you wanted this feeling to last forever.

Brock pulled back, running his thumb along your cheek where a few tears were still there.

“Brock-“ you started.

“We have to do this right, I need to know you’re in, that you want to be with me. For real this time”

“I’m in, Brock. You have my whole heart if you want it.” You smiled.  

He leaned in, kissing you once more. When he pulled back, he pressed soft kisses all over your cheeks, trailing down your neck before pulling you in close to him, holding you tight. 

“I love you.” You said, unsure of if he would be ready to reciprocate, but you didn’t mind. You would wait for Brock for as long as it took if it meant that things would be okay, that you would be together. 

“I love you too, always have.” When he smiled, it was bright, eyes crinkling, cheeks slightly flushed from the shared kisses. You would do anything to keep that smile on his face all the time. 

“By the way, I owe Petey $100 now.” He laughed. 

“Oh? Why’s that.” You hummed, threading your hands through his hair. 

“He knew we’d end up together I guess.” 

“Seems like a good investment.” You teased. 

“Worth every penny.” He agreed, dipping his head down and kissing you softly once more. The feeling of his lips on yours was something you knew you’d never grow tired of, knowing that Brock was it for you, and you’d love him as long as he let you. 

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2652 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 3 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The past few days have been exactly what you wanted a month ago, peacefully silent, yet somehow it doesn’t feel right. You were able to finish your paper in record time, fully concentrating on your work but part of you missed the incessant music from next door.

There was an odd comfort knowing Bucky was home playing, and with the knowledge of his musical talent you now wanted to hear what he would come up with. Getting to know him briefly was… well, it was something. It could have gone a lot better if you didn’t stick your foot in your mouth.

Bringing up the music related noise was one thing but how you ever managed to bring up the noise of his “nighttime activities” made you wish you could have vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. You had done your best to avoid Bucky ever since, rushing out of or into your apartment as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure how you could ever face him again but you couldn’t deny that a small part wanted to.

Facing your shared wall you imagined where Bucky might be, picturing him on his couch, lounging across the cushions of the soft leather as he leisurely plucks away at the guitar strings, sounding out a melody. Or was he more focused, sitting upright and gliding his dexterous fingers across his keyboard? Was he at his computer editing his melodies? Was he thinking of you?

The silence was deafening. With your palm pressed against the wall you began to lean in with your ear, hoping you could hear anything. With a slight gasp you jumped back, there was noise but not any coming from next door. Your phone buzzed against the coffee table, with Steve’s face illuminating the screen.

“Hey Steve!”

“Guess who I saw going into Sweetgreen?” The strain in his voice clued you in to the right guess, Lillian. “Yup, and she wasn’t alone … yeah she’s still with Jason, for now,” he muttered under his breath, expecting her to cheat again.

“I’m sorry Steve. You know you deserve better than her, right? I know you know this.”

Steve sighed heavily. Even though he knew what you were saying was right, seeing his ex still hurt a lot.

“Thanks Y/N, I do know that, doesn’t mean I’m going to torture myself though and go in there so is it cool if I pick us up something else? I’m in the mood for carbs.”

Chuckling at Steve’s admission you couldn’t help but agree, salads were great and all but all this Bucky stress you’ve put on yourself definitely makes you crave heavier foods.

“Tacos?”

“Mmmm, yes tacos! Extra guac please Rogers!”

You set your table in preparation for Steve to come over with food, remembering to throw your wallet on the table to give him money. The last time he came over you had forgotten, being so caught up in reliving the terrible memory of your interaction with Bucky. Steve might have been right, if he handled talking to Bucky maybe you wouldn’t be so worried about running into him.

“Sam tells me you guys spoke,” Steve said, digging a tortilla chip into the container of guacamole.

You chewed quickly to swallow the bite you had taken. “Why do you always ask me a question mid-chew?” you joked. “But yes, we did speak and…” your voice lifted with anticipation as Steve’s eyes widened, waiting for you to continue. “He gave me the number for Elena Rodriguez. She’s head of the social work department and…”

“Oh my god Y/N please just tell me!” Steve begged.

“I set up an interview with her next week!”

Steve’s eyes crinkled with his excited smile though it faded shortly after as you nervously mused about fitting the internship into your schedule.

“One step at a time,” Steve offered with a small laugh.

He’s right. One step at a time. You didn’t even go on the interview yet, you might not even be hired for it; the thought of which worries you even more, but you remind yourself to breathe and take things as they come.

The elevator ascends slowly, filled with your eager coworkers looking to join the rush home. As it lets off on the ground floor, everyone dashes to the heavy glass doors as you leisurely stroll to the security desk.

Mr. Lee had a big smile on his face as he seemed to be in the middle of telling Steve a story. Slowly you approached the desk, seeing Steve smiling down at something in his hands.

“That’s what I said but Howard was ahead of his time. A comic book movie…” Mr. Lee chuckled. “It didn’t work in ’47 but it sure would be a hit now.”

“Oh, what’s this?” you asked.

Steve held up a sealed copy of a comic book, Kid Colt, which you were unfamiliar with.

Leaning over the desk towards you Mr. Lee spoke, “Tony found that for me in his father’s things. That’s how Howard and I met. He wanted to make a movie outta this. Stark Pictures. He never did though, the whole thing became a big tax write off.”

“I didn’t know you knew Howard Stark.”

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Lee boasted humbly, “Since I was seventeen. He was a good man. You know he was so proud to finally be a father. He worked a lot, probably more than he should have but he had Maria and the nannies bring little Tony over to the office. Tony Stank I’d call him. Oh boy, you could smell those diapers from a mile away it was so bad.”

Hearing Mr. Lee talk about the head of your company so freely like this made you laugh. It also made Tony Stark seem a bit more human. As far as you knew he was a workaholic who may or may not be seeing Pepper Potts. You’ve caught the way she looks at him though, with an extra twinkle in her eye or how she hesitates for the smallest moment to gather herself before going into his office.

“Tony Stank, that’s amazing,” you laughed, wondering if Pepper has ever heard this story before. “Well, have a good night Mr. Lee!”

Steve came around to the front of the desk standing tall, filling out his blue uniform with his broad stature. It was unfair how he could pig out on food with you and not show any sign of it. Meanwhile, your stomach has been rumbling all day from last night’s dinner.

“I’m on the late shift today,” he frowned.

“Poor Stevie,” you joked, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye. “Not that my night will be any better, I’ve got a shit ton of laundry to do.”

“Enjoy the sweaty laundromat then.”

“Oh I will,” you said sarcastically.

The steady hum of the running washing machines drowned out the sound of the newscast coming from a small TV mounted on the wall. It’s muggier inside than out, and even with the door open you can’t escape the permeating smell of cheap soap and mildew.

The wash cycle is nearly over so you move from the metal chair you had been uncomfortably sitting on, listening to music to pass the time, and lazily stroll over to the machine that is spinning your clothes. Quarters jingle in your pocket as you walk, ready to be placed in the dryer as you wait some more. You hate laundry day.

It’s crowded too, with all the chairs taken and other people leaning against the wall. A few kids were running around screaming, not helping their tired mother who looked too exhausted to even reprimand them as she folded all their clothes.

No one looked happy to be there, not even the attendants who had to apologize to the screaming man who didn’t understand why he couldn’t use one of their reserved machines. It was a cut throat world on laundry night, with other patrons fighting to stake claim for the next free machine.

A loud buzz lets you know your clothes are done, you wheel a basket over and open the door. The shadow of the clearly impatient person waiting for your machine blocks the dull light from the fluorescents above so you hope to grab everything quickly without dropping anything on the dirty linoleum floor.

“It’s all yours– oh.” Your mouth hung open, not expecting to see Bucky standing beside you. “H-hey.”

“Hey Y/N. Didn’t want to startle you,” he sheepishly said. “Uhmmm, is this free?” Bucky gestured to the obviously open machine.

You nodded quickly. Not knowing what else to say you stared awkwardly at the basket of damp clothes and said, “I’m gonna dry these.” Smooth.

Turning around you let out a deep breath and worried over what would happen next. It would be extremely rude to ignore Bucky and continue to listen to music. He hasn’t done anything wrong to you, not this week at least, but you were too scared to risk saying something stupid, again.

It would take at least a half hour for your clothes to dry so you put on a brave face and decided to walk back towards Bucky. Dressed in casual black shorts and a white t-shirt, his smooth, toned arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support column, squinting to read the poorly transcribed closed captioning on the TV.

“Hey neighbor,” you said, offering a small friendly wave as he turned his head.

Bucky smiled, standing upright as he turned to face you completely to greet you back. He looked genuinely happy to see you, which made you feel even worse for how you left things.

“I’m sorry if I made things weird the other day. I didn’t mean to,” you blurted out before your brain gave any thought to see if this was a good idea.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, the gaze of his ocean blue eyes staring right through you. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a cavalier air.

“So how’s the music coming along?” You were truly curious, having not heard any sound.

“It’s not bothering you, right?” Bucky winked.

“No, not at all,” you smiled softly. “Are you still working on that one piece?”

Bucky asked which one and you hummed the tune. Closing your eyes you missed the way his own lit up in delight hearing you repeat his melody.

“I know I complained about the noise but honestly it was so beautiful,” your voice lightened and he felt the weight of emotion even through the simple way you described it. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t focus.”

Bucky adjusted his weight, needing to ground himself after your words made him feel as light as air. His music meant so much to him, working tirelessly to bring to life the sound he envisioned in his mind, to know that the unfinished piece had such an effect already made his heart swell with pride.

He developed his music like a chef crafting a recipe. Each instrument was a different ingredient, carefully selected notes were gathered on the counter, waiting to come together in a symphonic skillet. The flavors of music combine, heating up together the piano is covered in the spice of an electric guitar, with the drumming rhythm simmering beneath the surface as the sound of strings are poured generously over the top.

In the end the dish is a delicious feast for the ears but here you were, happily devouring the unfinished ingredient in its raw form.

“Yeah…” his voice came out breathless. Catching himself Bucky cleared his throat. “It’s actually for an upcoming video game. I can’t say which, but it’s part of an emotional scene when the main character finds his family is gone.”

“I can sense the depth of it.”

“That’s not even the best part,” he explained as his face grew with a wide smile. Bucky became lost in describing the emotion of the violins that would come in. “They’re the voice of the character and when he’s lost everything I have them coming in, crying out in pain. It’s sharp and strong, and beautifully tragic.”

Listening to Bucky describe his music resonated in your soul. You saw the complete love and passion he had for it and once again you felt terrible about asking him to stop.

“I’d love to hear it, if that’s okay.”

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and Bucky smiled, nodding before he spoke his answer. He couldn’t wait for you to hear everything together.

You passed the time by getting to know each other a little more. Bucky has a younger sibling named Rebecca who moved west to work as an avian veterinarian in a bird sanctuary.

“My parents are lost without them around,” Bucky joked. “Do you know how hard it is to try to explain how to use Skype to them over the phone?”

“Oh believe me, I know. Somehow my mom always calls at the worst time to have me explain the most basic function on her phone that she already knows because we’ve gone over it a million times but…” You threw your hands up as Bucky joined in with your laughter.

When your clothes were dry Bucky gave you some space to fold them alone which you appreciated, not wanting to showcase your intimate items in front of him. He was still a stranger, sort of, but you were glad you were getting to know him.

Checking the time you realized it was on the late side and you still needed to shower before bed. Your clothes were packed neatly into a laundry bag, well most of them were at least. One sock managed to get eaten by the dryer to your dismay, and you hoped its pair was somewhere on your floor having fallen out as you prepped the laundry.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you gripped the bottle of detergent with your other hand and walked towards Bucky.

“Hey,” you called out to Bucky who lifted his head from his phone. “I’ve got a few things to do tonight still so can I take a rain check on hearing your music?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bucky did his best to mask his disappointment but he understood. He noticed the slump of your shoulders, balancing the laundry bag high on one side and letting your other limb hang low with the weight of the heavy bottle.

“Do you want me to carry that back?” he asked.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I can manage.”

The apartment was only two blocks away, two long blocks but still, you didn’t want to inconvenience Bucky even though judging by the curve of his biceps it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bucky walked with you to the front of the laundromat as you smiled and said goodnight.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered, watching as you walked down the sidewalk until he could no longer see you in the crowd.

The words stayed on his lips like they were always meant to be there and Bucky has a brief flash of a life he’s never thought about.

A warm bed, made even warmer by the figure curled against him. His breath syncs with theirs and he’s at peace. His heart beats to the rhythm of love and his lips purse together to plant a soft lingering kiss on their forehead. A smile secures itself on his face because he’s truly happy; surrounded by the comforting feeling knowing that when he wakes up that person, his love, will be by his side.

The machine buzzes at the end of its cycle dragging Bucky back to a reality that has him gasping for breath. He steps outside for a minute for air, needing to clear his mind of the vision that seemed so real it scared him; for better or worse he can’t quite say.

PART 5

[bittykimmy13]

The Candescent King (GT Story)

Premise: Sequel to "The Clandestine Queen". Andres returns to the hotel and is forced to confront the reality of Lorelei's life as a trinket.

Hi, I am now fully obsessed with Andres and Lorelei and I would die for them.

Warnings: dehumanization and threat of sexual assault

The print / trinket universe belongs to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie​ / @marydublin5​ <3 Y’all have her to thank for the ending scene! The story almost ended much differently :’)

(( Read more about the print and trinket universe here! ))

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 He had certain expectations when he returned to the Onyx Citadel Hotel for the fourth time in two years. It was nightfall when he arrived. The lobby was decorated tastefully in black-and-white to honor the winter tournament. He headed straight for his suite rather than stop and interact with the other arriving players. As expected, the staff had already dropped off his belongings in the room.

However, she was not there.

He had known this day would come eventually, so why was there an involuntary chill running down his spine when he thought of the most obvious answer for her absence?

Moving mechanically, he went for the door. He had to be certain.

The elevator ride down, his thoughts were an odd mix of racing and frozen. He wasn't upset, he assured himself. He had no reason to be. They had both known this day would come, so why did it bother him so much? He battled his confusion as he made his way through the lobby. In the center, he saw some familiar tournament players gathered around a chessboard loaded with trinkets. He averted his eyes, striding for the front desk.

"May I help you, sir?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Where is the trinket?"

Her friendly smile wavered with confusion. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed. "I don't recognize you. My name is Andres Soto. I have competed in the last three semi-annual tournaments. The staff knows to place the trinket known as Queenie in my room along with my luggage. But she is not there."

"Oh! Aren't you the reigning champion?" When he didn't respond, she pursed her lips and frowned in thought. "Queenie... The orange-haired gal? I apologize, sir, but she isn't available."

The chill in his spine should have dissipated now that he had an answer. But it stayed locked in place. "I see."

"Shall I put in a request at the bar to have another trinket sent to your room, Mr. Soto?"

"No." Andres started to pull away, but he supposed he owed it to Lorelei to at least ask. "Tell me what happened to her. A careless guest?"

The woman blinked, then gave a startled laugh. "She's not dead, Mr. Soto! She's just occupied."

Relief and frustration mingled in his gut. "Occupied? Why wasn't she sent to my room?"

"I'm terribly sorry. There was a massive change in management and employment in the past couple of months. I suppose whoever was making your... trinket arrangements must not have passed on the instructions. I'll be sure to let the bar and restaurant know that Queenie will be prioritized to you once she's available."

"You're going to make me wait," he deadpanned rather than asked. You know I'm the champion, and you're denying my request? He clenched his jaw to keep the comment in. It would only cause problems. His tone and expression, however, worked wonders.

Her voice became even more placating as she pointed across the lobby. "If you'd like to see her, she should be right over there," she said.

Andres shoved himself away from the front desk without another word and approached the small group gathered around the center board that had been set up. Two players, three eager observers. Plenty of room for him to see. He walked up with his hands in his pockets, eyeing the board with a sneer. He had made it a point to never be in the vicinity of a game of trinket chess, and it looked precisely the way he had imagined.

It was the most trinkets he had ever seen gathered so close together. Thirty-two were on the table, each of them scantily clothed in colors that reflected their team and designated piece. Red pawns. Yellow rooks. Green knights. Blue bishops. Purple royalty.

In no time at all, his eyes zeroed in on Lorelei. She was the queen, naturally, wearing sheer black lingerie with purple accents.

And she spotted him, too. He suspected she would be smart and pretend not to recognize him, but to his surprise, she threw a minuscule hand over her head and waved it enthusiastically. Her stance was unsteady, a carefree grin plastered on her face.

Drunk.

"Hey!" she called. "Tall, dark, and scary! Hi! I had a dream about you the other night!"

Very drunk.

The players and the small audience followed her gaze with confusion. Their eyes widened when they realized who had come to observe them. He gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment, ignoring Lorelei's whoops for attention.

"Gentlemen," he murmured.

"Soto." Theo Jackson, the man playing black, did not bother hiding the irk on his face. Andres couldn't blame him; coming in 2nd place twice in a row did that to a person. "Thought you'd decide this little tournament was below your rating by now. What are you still doing, coming back here?"

Andres shrugged. "I like to win. But don't mind me. Carry on."

They settled back into the game. He tried to watch with a neutral expression, but at least any visible disgust on his face was to be expected from him. Lorelei was a mess, nearly stumbling into the neighboring square every time the board was jostled by the players' movements. The bishop beside her kept grabbing her arm to steady her.

The trinkets were plucked up and moved like pieces. Each one of them looked either frightened or entirely checked-out. But when they were captured by the opposing side and taken off the board, their relief was visible. That was, except for the pieces Jackson captured. His hands had a tendency to wander to his captured pieces while he thought of his next move.

Being the queen, Lorelei was likely to be in the game for the long haul. Andres thought about walking away. The front desk woman had promised the trinket would be delivered to him later, but something kept him rooted there. It was a strange stab of betrayal, having gotten to know her and now seeing her debase herself. It wasn't her fault, but he had the urge to correct obscenity nonetheless. Especially considering how hell-bent she seemed on getting herself killed.

"Psst." She turned around and waved both hands up at Jackson. "Listen! You've got an opening right there, and you don't see it, do you? You're blowing it. Move me to A4, c'mon!"

"Shut the fuck up." Jackson forcefully turned her back around and flicked her between the shoulder blades, sending her onto her hands and knees.

The bishop gasped and leaned down to check if she was alright.

"No, don't help her," Jackson snapped. The bishop straightened immediately. "Little bitch needs to learn her place."

Lorelei's shoulders wracked and she caught her breath. Andres was a live wire of tension, trying to talk himself down from lunging in and taking her away. The tension eased as she stood up and rolled her shoulders as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the player on white looked remarkably nervous, staring at the board and obviously mapping out the plan Lorelei had offered.

Jackson went quiet, doing the same. Then he snorted, "Whaddaya know." He plucked up Lorelei and moved her to A6. The game was over in less than three moves after that.

Lorelei was the piece to catch the king in checkmate. She skipped over and looped her arm in his, raising her eyebrows at Jackson. "See? What did I tell you?"

"That's not right," the other player spat. "You had help!"

Jackson scoffed. "As if this was a real match. Besides, are you insinuating that a fucking trinket helped me? I was going to move her there anyway."

"Fuck you, I was about to have you cornered." The other player stood up and stormed off. He wouldn't last long in the tournament with a blatant temper like that.

"Who's next?" Jackson declared.

"I am," Andres said before anyone had time to take a breath.

He slid into the seat, glancing down as the pieces dutifully rearranged themselves where they belonged. Lorelei stumbled back to her spot and smiled right at him. At least she didn't wave or yell for him. He had seen her on a board plenty of times, facing him, but never like this. He could see the trinkets on his side casting wary glances up over their shoulders at him, trying to get a read on their current master. One split second of eye contact was all it took to make them face forward again.

Lorelei, in her idiotic state, turned to face Jackson and planted a hand on her hip. "I hope you're ready to get your ass whupped," she said.

His expression darkened, and Andres wouldn't have been surprised if she was broken in half right then and there. But Jackson slid a smirk to Andres. "Am I sensing some history here? Oh, Soto. You've always acted like some kind of moral paragon. No wonder you turn down every drink with a trinket. You've only got eyes for this little bite, huh?"

Andres regarded him coolly. "She was delivered to my room one night against my wishes and has plagued me ever since. Are we playing or not?"

"No one's stopping you from starting."

Sighing, Andres leaned forward and studied the untouched board. He knew Jackson's strategies well enough to put him away swiftly, but he would need a different approach this time. His hand automatically reached for the board, but he paused when he remembered these were not carved pieces of wood. Hiding a wince, he tapped one of the pawns on the back. The young man spun around and looked up, eyes wide under Andres' shadow.

"You, move to E4," Andres ordered.

The pawn swallowed hard. "I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know where—"

Gathering nonexistent patience, Andres tapped the board. "Move here. Two spaces forward."

The pawn hurried to obey, eyes trained down.

Despite his attempts to focus on the game itself, Andres couldn't help but wonder what each of the white pieces on his board had done to land their fate. Murderers, traitors, those who had no place in society. He glanced across the board at Lorelei, who was swaying to music that wasn't there. She perked up when they locked gazes, and he was almost saddened by the strange hope in her eyes. With her inhibitions decimated, it was all too clear how much she trusted him.

He glanced at the pieces on the board again and wondered, How many innocents?

His thoughts shattered when Jackson snatched up a pawn of his own without warning, seeming to savor the way the girl whimpered and squirmed in the tight pinch of his fingers.

"Settle down, darling," he crooned. "You're expendable. The game will be over for you soon." When he set her down on the board, she hugged her arms and trembled, tears streaking down her face.

Andres tore his eyes away from her. Nothing he could do.

He made foolish moves from then on, but they were perfectly calculated. His primary goal for once was not to win; he only wished to capture the queen. It was child's play to reach Lorelei, considering any player's strategy would focus on protecting the king. He ordered the pieces where to go, pointing and nudged if he needed to. When he captured Jackson's pieces, he made them walk to him rather than snatching them up.

Jackson smirked each time Andres refused to grab the trinkets, making a show of picking up his own pieces and taking an unreasonable amount of time to decide his move. He held them in his palm, toyed with him while deep in thought.

Finally, Andres captured Lorelei. He had to resist the urge to pluck her up. Jackson would undoubtedly notice the special treatment.

"Come over here," Andres said, beckoning her to move among the other pawns and the knight he had captured.

"Yessir." She pranced over to him, giving a clumsy twirl and making a rude gesture at Jackson so that only Andres could see it. She took a seat behind his side of the board, and he paid no mind to the triumphant smile she aimed up at him.

His next strategy was to make it a point to capture as many pieces as possible. Once he had a small crowd of black pieces on his side of the table, it was easy enough to discreetly drop a hand over Lorelei and sweep her away from the others. He moved her to his lap under the table. With people watching around him, slipping her into his pocket would be too noticeable. He let her go on his thigh, praying she wasn't foolishly drunk enough to fall off. He could feel her tiny weight, along with the slightest tremble. Not from fear, though—he had a feeling she was giggling to herself.

From then on, it was business as usual. He managed to corner Jackson and capture the king despite his seemingly sloppy plays at the beginning. With the queen gone, anyway, there was hardly a contest.

Huffing, Jackson glared at what remained of his chess pieces, as if they had anything to do with his loss. Then he turned that irked look to Andres. "You really shouldn't be here," Jackson said. "You know you're gonna clean up. Give someone else a chance, would you?"

"Maybe you should work on your strategies," Andres returned.

Before Jackson could snap back, someone from the group piped up, "Mr. Soto, can I play a round with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to my room to relax before the opening social." He cupped a hand around Lorelei so that she smoothly fell into his palm when he stood. He strode away, arm relaxed at his side, and his fist closely loosely.

He waited by the elevators until he could catch one alone. When the doors were sealed, he lifted his hand and unfurled his fingers enough to see her. Lorelei sat up and leaned back on her hands, a flirtatious smile on her lips that was entirely unlike her—at least when she was with him.

"Hello again," she slurred. "My hero."

"You're drunk," he said. "How disappointing. I was hoping we could play a few matches tonight." He shook his head, observing her unfocused eyes. "It would not be fair to you."

She waved a hand at him. "Ah, don't be so dramatic. I was on bar duty before the tournament players started arriving. I'm fine."

The elevator came to a stop. Lorelei scrambled to the edge of Andres' hand and vomited over the side. Some landed on his shoe. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled sheepishly at his unimpressed expression.

"My bad," she said. "I swear I wasn't aiming there."

Breathing out sharply, he exited the elevator and headed for his suite. He took her straight to the lounger by the coffee table, laying out a pillow and setting her down on it.

"Sleep it off, Señorita Lorelei. I have a social I must attend. Will you be fine in three hours?"

"Probably." She stretched her arms over her head and laid asprawl. "And for the thousandth time, call me Lore."

Despite the state she was in, he imagined she wouldn't stay drunk for long. Trinkets rose back to soberness much quicker than natural people. Andres wasn't sure if it was an automatic side effect of their size or an intentional feature of their engineering to ensure they couldn't soothe themselves with inebriation for too long.

He stepped into the bedroom to change his shoes. As he headed back for the door to leave, she waved her hand to get his attention.

"No blanket?" She pouted. "I'm cold, you monster."

He rolled his eyes. "Shall I tuck you in and sing you a lullaby, too? You are demanding tonight."

"That's what you get for treating me like a person, Señor Andres. Now I've got all these sick and dangerous thoughts in my head about wanting to be comfortable."

"Well, stop it."

"No, sir. They're my sick and dangerous thoughts, and you can't take them away. Besides, you owe me."

He dug through one of his bags beside the coffee table until he found a silk handkerchief. "I saved you," he pointed out.

"Out of the kindness of your heart? Please. You owe me because you're going to get me in trouble, making me magically vanish like that. In fact, I'm sure there is sheer chaos downstairs over a kidnapped queen. They'll think I'm a runner."

"I'll tell the front desk I collected you." He braced his hands on either side of the cushion and leaned over her. "Would you like to write a script for me? Should I say you are too enchanting to resist, and I needed you all to myself tonight?" He dropped the handkerchief over her.

She squirmed under the fabric until she found her way out—which took twice as long as it should have. "Perfect, couldn't have scripted it better myself. Try to sound like you mean it, though." He snorted and started to pull away. "Wait!" she said. "Speaking of saving me. Can I tell you about the dream I had about you? Very quick."

He sighed. "What?"

"I dreamed..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer. "That you stole me away from here. And we played chess day and night. And you still never beat me. It was lovely."

He didn't know how to feel or what to say. She had never been like this. Never said anything like this. And the way she looked at him... Her little eyes bright and naive over the edge of his handkerchief. He did not enjoy this drunken version of Lorelei Weaver. Not in the slightest.

"Sleep it off," he murmured again. "I want you ready to play when I get back." Then he made his escape.

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The moment she started to come to, her face flushed. She couldn't remember everything with clarity, but she remembered enough to be embarrassed. Groaning low in her throat, she sat up and used the corner of the handkerchief to wipe the dry crust from the corner of her lips. Maybe if Andres wasn't too disgusted with her, she could wheedle a drop of mouthwash from him.

Footsteps thudded toward the room. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been roughly three hours since she passed out. Straightening her back, she smoothed her hair down and folded her hands on her lap. Although her head was clear, it ached.

"Oh, good," she said when Andres stalked into the room. "I thought I had only hallucinated seeing your grumpy face. How bad was the social? Did they make you..." She shuddered dramatically. "Mingle?"

"Well, you clearly feel better." He approached the lounger and didn't bother kneeling for her sake. He never did. More of the looming type. "What did you think you were doing, getting drunk like that?"

A faint, scalding smile perked on her lips. "I was forced to. The guest I was lucky enough to get saddled with likes his trinkets good and giddy. Is that fair enough for you?"

"Fair enough." His expression didn't change, other than something at the back of his eyes that was too far away to see. "It's good that you're fine now. They want to see you downstairs at the bar to make sure you have not escaped." His hand dove for her.

"Wait!" she cried. He paused, frowning. "I've had enough today. I'm not in the mood to be manhandled any more. Can't you... lay your hand down or something?"

"Why?"

"Easier on my ribs and my ego, believe it or not." She pressed her lips into a tight line and glowered straight up at him. "Doesn't seem like too much to ask for you to lay your damn hand down."

Looking like a kid forced to eat his vegetables, he dropped his hand beside her. She climbed on, and he swept her up not a moment after she settled. She grabbed at his fingers to keep from tumbling off. Already she missed the safety of the handkerchief, but the warmth of his skin was a fair substitute.

They didn't speak as he took her downstairs to the bar, where a few players were sipping on drinks, laughing, cutting up. She adopted her usual pose on her knees, shoulders back, eyes down. From her glances, she recognized a few of the players—both from her days as a human and from her evening of being their queen piece in the lobby.

"Here she is," Andres said to the bartender. "Satisfied?" He thrust her out in his open palm.

The bartender lurched back, looking from Lorelei to Andres, stammering. "I'll get the manager. Would you like a drink while you wait, Mr. Soto?"

"No."

As the bartender walked off, the man seated closest scoffed. "Well, that's a damn shame."

Theo Jackson. Lorelei kept her head turned away as if there was any hope that he might not recognize her.

Apparently tired of holding her, Andres lowered her to the bar counter. She nearly asked him to pluck her right back up, ribs and ego or not. She couldn't help but look at Jackson, going cold at the lust in his eyes as he tipped back his drink and reached for the other that had been laid out for him.

"What shame?" Andres asked boredly. She wanted to scream at him for indulging Jackson.

Jackson pointed at her with the hand that held his scotch. "Pretty little thing like that, and you don't even have a drink to put her in. I knew you swiped her. Figured you'd at least be putting her to good use."

"Mr. Soto." A woman interrupted, approaching from the other side of the bar and putting her hand out to shake. Andres had to step to the side to reach her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, about the trinket. An employee is retrieving a case. You are welcome to enjoy your regular trinket during your stay, but it's required that she remain in the case when you're not around—"

"Yes, yes, I know the rules."

Despite that, she went on. Lorelei edged closer to where Andres had moved, feeling exposed. A second after the dreadful sensation came over her, a hand shot across the bar and snatched her up. Jackson covered her scream before she could let it loose, bringing her further down the bar, further from Andres. He hushed her gently, pinning her to the counter and keeping her muzzled. His fingers were cold from the chilled glass.

"What's the trouble, darling?" His voice was much sweeter now that he wasn't playing chess. "Soto doesn't know how to treat you right. And you've got my attention. Isn't that wasn't you wanted, pulling that cool little move during my game?" He brushed a fingertip along her side, controlling her with only one hand while the other lifted the drink to his lips for another sip. "You must get played with a lot at these tournaments to know the game so well."

While she squirmed and tried to buck her way free, he leaned down closer. The stench of whiskey wafted around her.

"Why don't we go up to my room, and I show you a thing or two in return?"

He reached under her lingerie. She bit the fingertip covering her mouth. It was barely anything, but he flinched all the same and allowed her to scream.

"Stop!" she yelped.

"What are you doing?" Andres barked.

A shadow descended upon them. The drink was swiped to the ground, Andres' hand crashing into it like a freight train. Glass shattered. The pressure of Jackson's hand vanished. Lorelei scrambled backward on her hands and rear, gasping for breath as she watched Andres and Jackson come to blows.

Jackson shoved Andres into the bar, making it rattle like an earthquake. Lorelei ducked down and covered her head, peeking over her knees as Andres landed a brutal punch to Jackson's stomach.

"Stop!" the manager screamed, backing away to the other side of the bar. "Stop now! Or we'll get security! You'll be arrested!"

Andres grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt and then shoved him away, seething.

Coughing, Jackson leaned on the bar. "What are you, a fucking sympathizer?" he spat, face contorting with disgust.

"Not in the slightest," Andres growled. "But she is mine."

"Mr. Soto," the manager said in a quavering voice. "You could be disqualified—"

"No," Jackson said. "No. I'm not pressing charges or reporting this or anything. I wanna face this fucker during the finals."

A very confused-looking hotel employee walked up holding a glass trinket case. Andres pulled away from the bar and snatched the case before reaching for Lorelei. There was no waiting for her to climb on this time. He closed her in a fist and stormed off. Even over the sound of his footsteps, Lorelei heard the manager offer Jackson a complimentary trinket for his troubles.

All the way to the room, Andres did not lift his fist from his side. She couldn't help but tremble, replaying the events of the fight over and over in her mind. These weren't the carefully calculated moves of a chess game; this was chaos. Utter chaos that she had never expected to manifest in him. She had gotten so used to his collected prowess on the board that she hadn't imagined what he could do in a physical fight.

He entered his suite and put her down on the lounger. She wasn't surprised at all when he immediately began setting up his chessboard on the coffee table. She would have asked him to do it if he hadn't.

"One match before bed," he said. "I need to rest before the first round tomorrow."

Lorelei stayed quiet, hugging her knees as she watched him arrange the pieces. With each clack of wood on the board, she pictured him driving his fists into Jackson. He glanced at her every few seconds, looking like he was working himself up to say something. Then he would think better of it.

Finally, when the board was ready, he spoke.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked without the smallest measure of apology.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you too distracted to play?"

"Never."

"Then it does not matter."

He walked around the coffee table to the lounger and reached for her. He stopped short and turned his hand over beside her, offering his palm instead. She chuckled mirthlessly and scooted over to climb on. "Well, look at that. He can be taught."

She took the white team and started the game. In no time, she felt at home among the light-up squares and smooth wooden pieces. There was no rust to shake off from her strategy. No uncertainty. Since his second visit, she had been given a reason to keep her chess mind sharp.

He, however, was the one who seemed distracted as she paced around the pieces. She was well on her way to beating him in less than twenty-five moves.

"Your move," she declared when his expression stayed distant for too long.

He blinked at her, then pushed a hand up his face with a heavy sigh. "Lorelei..."

"Lore."

"Lore. When I said you were mine..." He heaved another sigh. "I want to make something perfectly clear. I hope you don't really have any fanciful ideas about me taking you away from here. I will not put myself at risk like that."

She pursed her lips and pointed at the board. "Your move."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen to me, Lore. This is the last time you'll see me here. You understand?"

She did understand. She understood that this was the first time he had seen her life outside the safety that his visits provided. She understood that he had seen the aftermath of a regular afternoon on bar duty for her. She understood that he had seen what people like Jackson did when they got their hands on her. She understood that none of it was enough to make him take the risk for her.

"This tournament is far below your rating," she said, folding her hands behind her back and strolling along the edge of the board away from him. She peeked back over her shoulder. "I was surprised you showed up at all."

"I have you to thank for my improved rating. But you are correct. I have no business at this tournament anymore."

She turned around, wishing so badly that this didn't hurt the way it did. "Then why are you here?"

His eye contact did not waver. He straightened up and looked down at her. "Because you are the best I've played in my life. Perhaps the best I ever will play. I am determined to beat you before the tournament is over. I have lost sleep over you, Señorita Lorelei. I would like to sleep soundly again. Please don't ruin it with your fanciful thoughts."

"They're my fanciful thoughts, Señor Andres. And you can't take them away. They're all I have." She pointed at the board once more, determined to memorize every last turn of their final games together. "Your move."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ * 

The morning after the tournament finals, Lorelei awoke unsure of her surroundings. She wasn't in the hotel room. Not in the cylindrical container the staff supplied Andres. She should have awoken to the sound of housekeeping knocking at the door, but instead she heard a cacophony of voices.

Motion caught her attention. Swaying. Footsteps.

Realizing she was in a pocket, she all but shot to her feet to get a look at who was holding her. Had Andres left her outside the room for some random guest to sweep up and torment? That didn't seem like him, even if he had been particularly sulky during their last night together when he still failed to beat her.

Bracing herself, she peeked up from the coat.

A familiar face. His dark eyes shot from the phone in his hand to the fact poking out of his jacket. Andres shot her a sharp look, then typed away at his phone. He lowered it enough for her to see.

"Don't get excited. This is not a rescue, I'm stealing a private tutor."

She had only half a second to read it before his hand filled her vision. He pushed her back down, one finger pressing her belly as if to tell her stay. Then his hand withdrew, and his steps resumed. Her heart hammered as the sound of an airline announcement caught her ear.

Finally, he had made a move she did not predict.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

Potion seller, your goodness, m'lady.

It took my a few days to figure out what I wanted but I uh, I definitely need whatever you've got back there to get neighbor!kirishima to cuddle with me. Please? I'm begging u.

Humbly yours,

Grace

My darling Grace, what a privilege it is to create a potion for you; truly it makes me so very happy whenever you walk into my shop and interact with me. 💛💛 Now... lets see what I can do....

It wasn’t what you had expected when you first moved into this old apartment building - it was beautiful sure, but it definitely lacked some of the more modern functions you were used to. Like an elevator to make going to the third floor with groceries less of a hassle. And, more importantly, being able to control your own heating.

Your landlord told you something along the lines of ‘it’s an old building so we have to be careful, heat only goes on once the weather gets really cold.’ And well, here you were, mid-autumn and shivering every time you came home., unable to get yourself to warm up easily, and at the mercy of your landlord who clearly does not get chilled as quickly as you.

It wasn’t all miserable though; at least that was what you kept telling yourself. The building was in a good location, it was only 3-stories so there weren’t many units making the chances of running into someone in the hallway, having the building washing machines taken up, or getting a bad neighbor really slim.

And speaking of neighbors, did you hit the jackpot.

Ejirou Kirishima lived on your floor, right next door to you. And not only was he a sight for sore eyes, but being a pro hero meant he was more than willing to help those in need - even if being in need meant carrying a few boxes up for you. 

And embarrassingly so, that was how you met. When you slowly ascended the stairs for the millionth time, you guessed the noise piqued his interest because when you turned the corner there he was - standing in all his tall and strong glory.

You played it coy; not wanting to seem desperate. As well, as not wanting to waste the time of your new neighbor and perhaps have to owe him a favor down the line. But he was insistent, in that charming and sweet way, that it seemed even more rude to decline his offer.

And since then he has become a knight in shining armor of sorts for you. Able to provide you with some assistance over your first week as you struggled to put your new furniture together. Was there to surprise you with packages that might have been stolen if left outside, and overall was a friendly face to greet you when you came home.

Needless to say, you had a bit of a crush. And judging by what your friends were telling you, he had one too.

But having a crush wasn’t going to help you with the heating issue you now faced. Kirishima couldn’t help you, the only one that could was your landlord, and judging by the number of texts he elected to ignore on the subject you knew you were bound for a very long and unenjoyable fall season.

And it wasn’t like you could plug in a space heater either. Those things were unstable in homes that had good, and new, wiring let alone the ancient building you resided in. All you could do was buy a few heated blankets and bundle up.

But some nights were just too cold; and you awoke during the middle of them, unable to will - or warm - yourself back into slumber. Causing the next day ahead to be a wash as you struggled to even cope with the lack of sleep. Some nights it even made you cry with how frustrated you felt about it all - that you were the only one losing precious sleep and enjoyment of your new place because of your landlord's actions.

Tonight was one of those nights. Tossing and turning and curling yourself into tight balls to try and keep what little warmth your blankets could provide, but ultimately failing. Frustrated tears pricked your eyes and you finally gave up; finally stopped trying and sat up in your bed. Your mind was racing at what you could do to try and get warm. 

Your first thought of a hot shower or bath, but quickly dashed that idea at the thought of being both wet and cold. The next was to try and wear all your warm sweaters and layer up, but that idea was also dashed over how uncomfortable it would be - and difficult to remove.

Finally, you caved and went to the one person who had been fixing all your problems.

Gingerly you knocked on his door, so quietly that it could barely be heard - maybe you did it to give yourself an excuse to walk away and abandon the idea while you still had the chance, or maybe because you didn’t want to risk waking anyone else - you wouldn’t know for sure. Your mind was too occupied with trying to get warm once more. 

It felt like an eternity, but still, when his door swung open it still took you by surprise. It caused your body to turn rigid as wide eyes glanced up at him - he was still in his uniform, so you supposed you caught him just as he was getting home from a late patrol - and you couldn’t miss the confusion that etched across all his features as he regarded you.

You tried to speak, to explain what was going on - you had practiced a speech before the door opened to help - but alas words were failing you and you stood shivering in his doorway.

“It’s almost 3 am… everything okay?” Kirishima finally spoke, breaking the tension as it was clear you were unable to.

Part of you wished he hadn’t, that you could move your frozen legs away and pretend like this never happened. Because that awkward encounter you would have faced the next day would have been much more tolerable than what your bodied did manage to do; and that was to cry.

“Oh! Hey, hey! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you upset!” Kirishima blurted, as he rushed to pull you closer; his hands coming to rest on your face to wipe away your tears “What’s going on, huh? You can tell me? You’re not hurt are you?”

You shook your head ‘no’ wishing you could actually say something rather than hiccuping pathetically, but you supposed your frustrations had grown to surpass any logic or reason. 

“Then what is it?” Kirishima soothed, patting down your hair to try and calm you down further.

“C-cold… so cold…” You finally managed to blurt out, moving just a little bit closer to him to try and steal some of his warmth.

“Oh… that bad huh?” He waited for a breath to see you nod before following suit “I know, the guy is a real piece of work sometimes…. Come on, let’s get ya inside and see if I can’t help just a little, hm?”

He led you inside once you nodded your head in agreement; hand instinctively reaching to cling to his muscle shirt in an attempt to keep him from straying too far - not that he would in your current state. He sat you down in his room, picking up a blanket to wrap around your shoulders as he searched in his closet.

“I think I have an old Riot hoodie for you, that you can use… it might help… yeah here we go! Let’s get this on ya.” He smiled, scrunching the fabric in such a way to make slipping it over your head “Now let’s see if I can’t - oh!”

Your hug caught him by surprise as you clung to him once more, burying your face in his chest and wrapped your arms around him; it made him freeze as he wondered what he should do, if it was all alright with you or if you were doing all this because your state of mind wasn’t sound.

But his doubts were squashed when he heard your little mumbles of “So warm… cuddle me please..?”

And who was Kirishima to say no to your request for his help? Especially when you asked him so sweetly? He was a man after all, and though it wasn’t the manliest thing to do, to jump so quickly on board with such a delicate scenario, he couldn’t help himself.

“Alight, alright, come on now… let's get comfy, okay?” He mumbled, gingerly taking you in his arms and placing you underneath his covers; allowing you to snuggle deeply into him and his sheets.

“Sweet dreams, okay?” He mumbled before placing a kiss on your forehead.

Enjoy~ 💛

[sweetcheol]

college boyfriend!seungkwan

—genre: fluff

—au: college, neighbors 

—pairing: boo seungkwan x reader

—song to listen to while reading: the sound — the 1975

—word count: 2.4k

—warning(s): mentions of sex, a bit of cursing.

you really, really liked your apartment sometimes.

the complex was located only a street down from university, which meant that no matter how many times your alarm had not gone off, you still hadn’t been late to as many classes as one would expect.

you also had a pretty spacious kitchen, which didn’t amount to much to be honest, considering you barely had time to cook an actual meal and almost always opted for take out or instant noodles instead.

you had massive windows in the living room, which was extremely nice during the day and almost just as nice during the night (considering you actually got a nice view of the city from the fifth floor).

but you also really, really hated your apartment sometimes.

the elevator almost never worked, which was good for your health but was also pretty annoying considering the amount of stairs you had to climb to get to your floor.

the windows got stuck frequently, and no matter how many times you had tried to get it fixed, they just didn’t bulge.

and well, the walls. they were nice and in good condition, but they were annoyingly thin.

and, to be fair, it didn’t seem to be such a big problem at first.

because well, you liked your neighbors.

sure, you’d hear the music coming from the apartment next door and occasional stupid arguments, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

hansol and chan were fun neighbors.

you once had coffee with hansol when the rain had trapped you both in the same coffee shop, and discovered you had a lot in common.

and chan had once helped you carry your stuff home after you had ran into each other on the street.

they were pretty nice.

and living next to them was well, pretty nice.

but then the third one moved in.

and boy.

oh boy.

you never saw him.

but your new neighbor, named seungkwan, had the most beautiful (and more importantly, loudest) voice you had ever heard.

which you would have appreciated under other circumstances, you were sure.

after all, well, he was a pretty good singer.

one that had the annoying habit of showering almost exclusively at midnight (or so it seemed), while singing at the top of his lungs.

the songs he almost always chose were ones that pretty much showed off his amazingly extensive vocal range.

you were impressed.

but most of all, you were impressed at how much you managed to keep your frustration to yourself.

because well, as a college student, midnight was a time you either spend studying, sleeping, or watching your drama as an attempt to relax from your day.

activities that didn’t need seungkwan’s singing as a background noise.

most of the times you didn’t actually mind.

like sure, you once told hansol about it and received an equally annoyed “dude but i’m the one that gets to live with him” in return.

which, like everything else, you just let pass.

until one night you had gone home from having one of those days, that left you practically breaking down the moment you walked past the door.

and it had been the night seungkwan had decided to bless your entire floor with his rendition of opera.

so you did the only thing you could think about.

you waited until the water stopped, made your way to your neighbor’s apartment, and banged on the door.

and to your surprise, it wasn’t hansol or chan who opened the door, but the one person you wanted to see.

“hi,” he greeted you, a smile on his lips.

“hi,” you answered back. “i uh, live next door,”

“oh yeah, hansol has told me about you,”

“really?”

“yeah. said you once dropped coffee on his lap.”

“it was an accident, jesus,”

“hehe yeah. anyways, i’m seungkwan.”

“(y/n)”

you ended up seeing seungkwan a lot after that.

more like, he had asked for your number and had begun to talk a lot after that.

and no matter how much hanson and chan, along with your roomates minghao ane jun, started bugging the two of you about it, you insisted you were just friends.

you were, weren’t you? seungkwan was a friendly person. it mafe sense you guys were just friends.

on his end, at least. because, well. maybe you did end up blushing a lil when you saw his name flash up on your screen.

and maybe you did look forward to when you’d go out for coffee, or for a walk, or literally whatever, no matter how many times you told yourself it was not a date.

only, seungkwan felt the exact same way you did.

and it was painfully obvious to everyone else.

minghao and jun actually had a bet going with hansol and chan on who would ask the other one out first (the loser would have to put their flat up for a party).

but well, seungkwan and you were fairly oblivious.

and then one day he saw you walking home from uni.

but you weren’t alone, and seungkwan noticed the way the blonde boy you were walking with kept on looking at you with a huge smile on his face.

and then you and your friend had finally parted ways and you met with seungkwan on the stairs.

“i didn’t know you were friends with jeonghan.”

“uh, he’s in my lit class. you know him?”

“a bit. we have some friends in common. are you... good friends?”

“you could say that, i guess. we’re going on a date tonight.”

seungkwan swore his heart broke a bit at your words.

because hell, he’d been too late. he had just wanted to take his time, see if maybe you liked him back, but he had made a mistake.

and it’s not like he was spying you or anything, but he had walked out of his flat to pick up his mail when you were leaving for your date... and wow.

you had turned and waved at him, and he had just stared at you as you left the building, a blush on his cheeks and a bitter taste in his mouth.

because you looked absolutely gorgeous.

but you were on a date with another guy.

or you were supposed to go on a date with another guy, at least.

because jeonghan’s car had broken down before he got to the restaurant you were supposed to meet.

it wasn’t his fault, and you weren’t angry at him, but it still upset you a little bit. 

but what upset you the most was the way you couldn’t stop thinking about seungkwan, not even when you were supposed to go an a date with your very attractive classmate.

so you assured jeonghan it was okay, asked if he needed any help and he told you he didn’t, ordered a bit of food to go (it was your favorite restaurant anyways). 

you were practically sweating the entire way back to your complex.

and the small blush on your cheeks was still there.

even when you knocked on seungkwan’s door and not on yours, the blush on your cheeks was still there.

“is seungkwan home?” you had asked chan he opened the door.

he couldn’t get his eyes off the plastic bags on your hand, so you gave him your box of fries when he nodded and let you in.

“it’s the door on the right! next to the bathroom!” chan had told you, smiling wide and starting to eat his way through his fries.

you didn’t want to intrude, and didn’t have to, because seungkwan’s door opened a bit when he heard chan’s indication to his room.

“oh... hey (y/n),”

“hope you haven’t had dinner yet, ‘cause i got a lot of food for us to go through,”

“i could always help you out if you don’t finish it all you know”

“shut uP chan”

and you noticed, with seungkwan wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and hair still damp from the shower, that you liked him.

you really liked him.

“so, how was the date?” he asked while sitting down on his bed, trying his best to not let out just how jealous he was. 

“we didn’t actually - he didn’t go,”

“he stood you up? i might punch him the next time i see him at seungcheol’s. no, i will punch him.”

“no, he uh - had car problems. it’s alright, he let me know early.”

“i thought - the food...”

“i got it for us”

and if seungkwan liked you before, he liked you even more now.

hell, he really liked you.

“oh”

it all went down from there.

and just like it had been before, it was fairly obvious to everyone around you that you two were not just friends anymore. 

no matter how much he had blushed that night in his room after you’d shared a slice of your favorite strawberry cheesecake and he had kissed your lips so softly you thought he didn’t, seungkwan does NOT fear pda.

he sees you at uni? he kisses you.

the two of you meet at your apartment’s lobby? he kisses you.

the two of you go out for dinner? he kisses you.

you two are hanging out with your friends and jeonghan appears? he kisses you.

his arm is always around your shoulder anyways, and he’s a bit taller than you, so kissing you when you walk through the city is fairly easy for him.

he is actually. the clingiest boyfriend. in the history of boyfriends.

texts you 24/7.

half of the time he’s talking about how much he loves being with you so it’s okay.

does super corny things sometimes like sending you flowers with cute little notes on them.

he just really wants you to know how much he appreciates you. 

you know those free concerts you got before you got together? yes, you get them even more often now.

he calls them serenades now though.

you’re making breakfast together after sleeping at his place? he “serenades” you.

you’re studying together for an upcoming test of yours? he “serenades” you.

you’re out shopping? he “serenades” you.

“seungkwan this is literally the middle of zara.”

“ah, you love my voice.”

and you do. just maybe not when you’re literally in the middle of zara.

but he is also the sweetest.

he cares so much about you.

kinda nags at you sometimes, but it’s always for the best.

“have you eaten yet? should i order a pizza or something?”

“we had pizza last night.”

“yeah but we can have pizza tonight as well. i don’t think you’ve eaten yet, did you?”

thanks to him you’ve never gone to bed after 2 a.m. on your free nights anyways.

the only times you do is when you watch a drama together though.

and does he loooove drama nights.

he sings along to every. single. ost.

kind of serves since he’s a drama major anyways (and seem to only ever do musicals).

you two rehearse a lot together.

or well, he rehearses with you watching him intently and clapping at every single scene (because you can’t sing for life).

you’re always front row and centre at every single production he’s in.

smiles wiiiiiide when he sees you cheering for him.

he’s the exact same way for you though.

he’s always there for you. 

literally the most supportive boyfriend.

gets super flustered when anyone asks if you’re together.

but somehow always makes sure he tells everyone else you’re together.

it’s the duality.

and you find it adorable so you probably end up kissing his cheek, which makes him even more flustered.

and even happier because well, now everyone knows you’re together. 

took things super slow for the first months of your relationship.

but he grew out of it as time flew by.

sweet and slow make-out sessions are a must after a long day.

low-key said he loved you during one of those.

your lips were plump, and your hair a mess, and he had never seen such a beautiful sight.

“i love you,”

“i love you too,”

you guys make love much more than you have sex.

he’s just a big romantic.

lots of hand holding too.

kisses you the whole. time. 

the kind of moans that are muffled by kissing and mixed with a lot of sweet little nothings.

a pretty vanilla kind of lover.

still a veryyyy passionate lover though.

your pleasure comes first don’t even try to argue with him.

amazing ! at oral.

and loves it.

both to give it and to receive it (but likes giving more).

praise!kink.

especially when it’s you praising him.

loves missionary because it grants him a lot of kisses.

is a huge fan of having you riding him too as well (esp when you bend down and kiss him right in the middle of it).

he just reallyyyyyy likes kissing you, okay?

anyways. seungkwan loves showing you off.

and will show you off when he gets the chance. 

gets super sassy about it though.

“kwannie it’s okay, everyone knows we’re a couple anyways.”

“a couple? baby, we’re the couple.”

ever heard of (y/n)? your name is baby now. sometimes it’s love, or honey, but mostly baby.

low-key got u matching sweatshirts or something.

they’re probs just pain black sweatshirts.

but they’re the same !!!

matching lockscreens.

it was probably his idea but it’s super cute.

probably has you saved as my love or something of the sort.

a lot karaoke dates.

you drag minghao, jun, chan and hansol with you, too.

seungkwan always ends up showing off though.

“this one’s for my baby!”

“dude, literally every single one has been for your baby”

“shut uP chan”

would, will, and have fought people for you.

like that time you were having dinner with the boys and hansol winked at you over the table as a joke.

seungkwan literally went ノಠ_ಠノ the moment he noticed.

“don’t even try me hansol chwe, i know where you live.”

“you live there.”

“exactly.”

then you kiss him and he’s like (◠‿◠✿)

anyways.

he really, really loves you. 

the sweetest, sassiest, most caring boyfriend.

i want to date college bf!seungkwan :( 

[arthurflecksgirl]

Hi sweety!🥰 could you please develope a prompt where x reader goes to Arthur's apartment for a coffee (they're only friends maybe?) and then she forgot her sweater (🥺) by him. so the next day he goes to her apartment to bring the sweater back to her. And idk if you want to add some cuddles or a cold weather and a warm tea🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much

Oh sweetheart, your request warmed my heart and it was so much fun to write it.  You know I have a weakness for sweater stories when it comes to our sweet Artie.Thank you so much. I really really hope you like it.

Pressing that elevator button felt different, knowing that you wouldnt go into your own apartment but ringing the bell on Arthur`s door. You knew each other since you moved into this building a few months ago but it took you weeks to finally make the first move and talk to him.

Arthur was a very shy man with intense eyes and a beautiful smile, which was hiding so much pain. You could tell from the way he was making jokes that he was sad. He was the kind of person who wanted to make others happy because he couldnt find happiness himself. Observing his loneliness made you sad. It hurt you to see that a wonderful man like him was all alone. Every since his mother was commited to Arkham state hospital he lived a lonely life in his dark apartment. Sometimes you could hear him laugh through the walls. It was a different kind of laughter, almost like he was in pain. One day he started laughing out of the blue and he handed this card to you, which said something about a condition. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he was too shy to interact with people. You have never seen him with someone else. Being his only friend felt special. Thats what you were. Friends. At least you thought so. Arthur never showed any kind of interest in being more than that. He was always very friendly, awkwardly shy and incredibly sad. Even when he was funny. Especially ehen he was funny.

You walked down the halls with a racing heart. You fell hard for this beautiful, sad soul. Just the thought of meeting up with him for a coffee made your knees weak. If only he knew if you were in love with him. But how could you vere tell him without risking his freindship? Maybe he prefered to be alone. Arthur always seemed like he could be scared away easily and you didnt wanted to. Just sitting beside him on his couch, feeling his presence was a gift. You could never risk to lose that.

Meeting up for a coffee after work was something you used to do pretty often now. Sometimes he would take you to the donut shop, even though he never ate one, but this time he invited you to come over to his place. Which felt so much more intimate.

You took a deep breath as you rang the doorbell.

"Coming" Arturs soft voice sounded like he was already smiling.

He opened the door. His brown curls matched his worn out chestnut sweater. A cigarette was tugged between his thin lips. He looked tired but his natural beauty was almost hurtful.

"Hi Y/N." his smile exposed his crooked tooth, which reminded you of how many nights you yearned for him to kiss you.

"Hey Arthur. I`m sorry I´m a bit late. I had to work longer today. "

"Its fine. I mean...I won`t go anywhere. I`m....here..." for a brief moment there was an awkward silence between the two of you. Then he turned around "Sit down...I mean....." he ran his fingers through his hair, appearently nervous ".....make yourself at home. I`ll make some coffee."

He headed into the kitchen while you sat down on the couch and took off your sweater.It was cold outside.Gotham city wasnt very pleasent during wintertime. The cold easily managed to get to your bones.

It was the 3rd time you every sat here. The fabric was old and faded, yellow and blue pillows decorated the corners. Along with  flowery and green sheets. Everything smelled like him. The scent of passion and romance. You always imagined Arthur to be a very romantic lover. The thought of that made you blush while he came back from the kitchen to hand you a hot cup of coffee.

"I`m sorry I only have these self made Murray Franklin show cups to offer you. Kinda embarassing." He took a sip of his own cup which looked exactly like yours , except for the handwritten letters looking a bit more shaky.

You turned the cup in yor hands "I think thats pretty sweet actually. Making your own cups of your fave tv show".

Arthurs eyes pierced you while he took another sip. The color of his eyes was everything.

"Yeah?"

"Sure!"

"You`re the only one who thinks so" he lit himself another cig and took a deep drag. His eyelids fluttered for a second. Details. details everywhere. Arthur was like a museum of details.

"My mother thought it was stupid. She said it reminds her of the fact that we dont even have enough money to buy the real cup."

You gave him a serious look "No, I really think its a creative thing to do. You are a creative guy."

His face lighted up "You think i´m crative? "

"Sure. You do write your own jokes, right?"

"Mhhh hmmmm, yeah"

"See? Very creative."

"Maybe I am" Arthurs left leg started bouncing and you caught yourself thinking how nice it would be to place your hand on his knee and make it stop by calming him down. You imagined how the fabric of his blue pants would feel under your fingertips. Or his naked skin...

Arthur sat close beside you, yet not close enough for his knee or arm to touch yours. You thought about how you could possibly touch him by accident. Feeling the fabcric of his clothes or his bare skin stroking yours was all you could think about.

He put the cup back on the table and looked at you in a way he never did before. His eyes focused you without blinking. Like the shyness within him was gone for a brief moment. You tried to mirror his stare, but it was impossible to look into his eyes without fighting  the urge to grab his face and kiss him. So you focused on the curl that was dancing in his neck instead. Not a good idea as well. Looking at this vulnerable part of his body only made you yearn for more.

You caught yourself looking away, which made you hate yourself. How could you possibly turn your head away when he was finally looking at you like that?

"You`re a party clown right?"

Arthur finally blinked "Yeah."

"I`d love to see some of your acts some day"

"I also do stand up comedy. Maybe you`ll come to Pogos when I perform next week?"

"Ohh Arthur, I would love that" and all of te sudden your hand was resting on his thigh. Arthurs muscles twitched under your soft touch. Like he wasnt used to being touched at all.

His smile said more than a thousand words "Wow, thats great news. I would love to see you in the audience. I will try to give my best performance for you. You know what Y/N? I´m gonna write a joke especially for you. Would you like that?"

Your hand was still on his leg. Touching him was magical. Like your hand was always supposed to be there. You nodded. Unable to say a word.

He looked at the back of yor hand like he couldnt belive that someone was actually resting his hand on him. You could tell from his eyes how touch starved he was.

All of the sudden Arthur got up. Your hand falling off his leg felt wrong.

"So I think I better work on that jokes now." he mumbled while he headed to his desk.

Right now? You felt the disappointment rising in your heart. He wanted you to leave?

"They better be good if you`re gonna be a part of the audience!" he added.

"Okay Arthur. It was nice to have a coffee with you. Im sure your new jokes will turn out incredibly funny.""

He smiled his sweetest smile while he grabbed the pen, looking like he was already about to concentrate.

"You know, I wrote this joke last night but I havent figured out the punchline yet. Punshlines are important. And facial expessions. I feel like I always get them wrong. And I have to look into peoples eyes more often."

"Sounds like a great plan, Arthur. "

"Thank you Y/N. I`m trying. I really do."

"I know"

"I want my stand ups to be good enough for the big clubs." he pressed his journal to his chest.

"I`m sure some day you will be well known. Everyone will  know the name Arthur Fleck and think of a grea comedian".

You noticed his eyes watering as he walked you to the door "Even kids?"

"Sure?"

"That would be sweet"

You wrapped his arms around him as you said our goodbyes "So, I`ll see you next week at Pogos?" he asked.

"Definitely!"

Your hug felt a little too tight for being just friends and you hoped he didnt noticed.

It felt a little too long too, but you couldnt help but trying to get a nose full of the smell of his soft curls.

Arthur looked after you before he closed the door behind him.

You walked down the hallway to get to your own apartment and immediately missed him.

Twenty minutes later you found yourself lying on your bed, realizing that you forgot your sweater on his couch. Should you gt over and  get it? You decited not to. He porobably was working on his jokes right now and you didnt wanted to bother him. So instead of visiting him one more time you just disappeared under the blanket and dreamed of him for the rest of the night.

The next day felt like a fever dream. Fantasizing about Arthurs lips and hands for the whole night left you with a strange feeling in your chest. Was it wrong to think of him that way? You thought about your sweater and how it was lying in Arthurs apartment for the whole night. You wondered if he left it lying on the couch and if he was still sleeping on the couch now that Penny was at the hospital? You couldnt concentrate while working at all. Your beautiful neighbor filled your mind with so many questions and daydreams. Daydreaming about him became something that helped you to get through the day. Just thinking of him chuckeling made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like nothing could harm you anymore.

This man was magic.

And you wanted him so bad.

Somehow the day passed by like every day does and you found yourself alone in the bathroom, looking at the mirror, wondering if you were even his type of girl. You had no idea in what kinda girls he was into.

And just as you started wondering someone knocked at your door. Was it possible...?

You nervously hurried up to open it.

It was him.

Arthur was standing in front of you, holding your sweater in his hands.

"Hi Y/N. I dont know if you noticed but... you forgot your sweater yesterday and I didnt wanted to bother you and...."

"Ohhh Arthur. Thats so sweet of you. Yeah I noticed. Thank you."

You could swear that he was about to blush.

"You wanna come in?"

Arthur nodded while he stumbled through your door.

"Make yourself comfy, I am right back" you smiled as he sat down in the living room.

You disappeared in the bathroom, pressing your face into your sweater to see if it smelled differently. It did. There was a hint of Arthurs cologne on it. His flowery shampoo and the smell of smoke. Your sweater smelled like him.

You buried your face deeper into the fabric and breathed in.

It was your piece of clothing but it felt like it was his. Breathing in the scent that was so him was the most intimate moment of your entire life. Was that what it feels like to fall asleep in his arms? To cuddle with him on the couch while watching his fave comedy shows on the screen? Was that what he smelled like under his clothes? His bare skin? Was that the scent that would surrowd you while making love to him?

Your thoughts went all over the place while you rubbed the fabric against your blushing cheeks.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

Arthurs voice woke you from your daydreams "Oh, yeah sure. Just got to use the bathroom. I´ll be right back"

"Okay! "

A minute later you sat beside him on the couch, the sweater still in your hands.

Arthur stared at it. His hands lay on his lap while he played with his own fingers.

"I have to admit something" he said "It`s so embarrassing. I dont even know how to tell you...."

"You can tell me anything, Arthur"

"There is a stain on your sweater now. It was me. I`m so sorry. I ruined it. Its face paint. I still got it on  my fingers after I cleaned my brushes. " he showed you the spots where he stained it.

Traces of him.

This somehow made you very emotional.

Its was his sweater now.

Through and through.

"Thats okay, Arthur. Dont worry. I dont mind."

"Really?" he seemed surprised.

"I dont mind at all !"

He shrug "Well there is another thing.... after I noticed you forgot your sweater on my couch... there was a reason I didnt came over to hand it to you last night. Its so embarrassing, oh my god..."

You giggled "Okay? Why didnt you?"

"I....put it on" Arthur buried his face in his hands "Sorry, dont hate me. Please. I put your sweater on and I slept in it." His legs started to bounce.

You coudlnt belive what you just heard. That was the cutest thing you could have imagined.

"Arthur,really? You slept in my sweater?"

He exposed his face.

"I know...I know....its...I`m sorry. Now you must think I`m a total freak or a stalker or something." He looked down on the floor, way too shy to look you in the eyes while he started to bite his nails.

"Actually I think thats pretty cute." you chuckled. The blood was rushing to your face. This man really got under your skin.

"What? Are...are you serious? You´re not mad at me? You dont think i´m a freak?"

"I could never think you`re a freak. I´m glad you told me. Now I`m going to tell you something much more embarrassing, okay? So you see that you are not the only one."

Arthur gave you an insecure look "Okay?"

"When I was at the bathroom before, I sniffed my sweater because I hoped it would smell like your apartment."

"I`m sorry if it smells like smoke now."

"Noooo not because of that! I wanted it to smell like... you!"

Arthurs eyes filled with love "You mean...."

You nodded as your eyes watered "I`m in love with you ever since I saw you for the first time. I just didnt knew how to tell you."

Arthur fell into your arms "Me too Y/N. Oh god.....me,too."

You pulled him closer. You never noticed how tiney he was in your arms. How fragile.

"Why havent you told me?" you asked him, while his face was buried in your neck.

"I didnt wanted to boter you. People often feel bothered by me. They think I`m weird. I was glad you even talked to me. Those short coffee breaks meant the world to me."

"Artie, this is just....I`m speechless."

He chuckled, now facing you "You just called me Artie".

"I know. Thats what I called you in my head all the time".

"I could get used to that" he smirked, which made his lip scar show even more intense.

"I cold call you Artie all night if you want to stay. " you whispered into his ear.

"I would love to. I mean its cold outside and some cuddles and warm tea would be nice..."

"Or some kisses" you added.

"Or some kisses....." Arthur turned his face to the left and put your face between his gentle hands.

His lips on yours felt even better than in your fantasy.

His taste filling your mouth was all you ever wanted.

And as you both fell into the pillows  you buried your face into his curls and took a deep breath of Arthur Fleck.

@impulsiveclown @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle  @duhliriouss @sadjesterautumn @therealjokerking10 @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes  @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie @jokerflecker  @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend  @nicoleverse @mdme-rosary @arthurhappyclown    @neon-umbrella-for-stella   @cherrymoon75 @call-me-harley-quinn  @arthurjokersgirl

[somethinginthethunder]

dumb with love [joe mazzello x reader]

I loST THE FIRST VERSION OF THIS SO I’M SORRY THIS IS LATE. Also, I’m back!! I’m so sorry for that really long hiatus. 

I hope this is good. I haven’t written for Joe in such a long time, so he might be a little out of character, and my writing is just really bad and rusty :’)

Hope you enjoy, though! Feel free to drop a like or reblog, idk. 

Also!! I obviously don’t know where Joe lives, so don’t attack me for saying he lives in an apartment. This is for the sake of the fic!!

Plot: a misplaced letter sparks what seems to be a friendship (?) between you and the boy next door.

Word Count: 2,800

Warnings: none, except I haven’t reread this or edited (sorry).

---

“Hades, time to go inside,” you mumbled, tugging on the leash lightly.

The goofy schipperke made its way back to you, allowing slack on the leash that held him to you. His nose rubbed against your hand, signalling he was ready to move.

You clutched the coat against you. It was cold for some reason. You had just gotten back from work, and decided to take Hades out for a bit of a long walk.

When you returned to the apartment building, you had decided to check you mail. You knew there wouldn’t be much, but it wouldn’t hurt to check, obviously.

To your surprise, there was more than usual in your mail box. You pulled a small package out and let Hades hold on to it, collecting the rest for yourself. As you walked to your room via elevator, you decided to check through while you weren’t doing anything else.

And, curiously, as you were exiting onto your floor, there seemed to be one letter out of place. It was not addressed to you, but to a certain Joe Mazzello, your neighbor.

Now, you lived at the end of the hall, and Mazzello lived right next to you. Across from you was the cleaning closet. Had you seen your neighbors very much? No, admittedly. Perhaps you had seen him once or twice.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep the mail from him, so, as anyone would, a return would be in order. But, for now, you were going to drop your mail and Hades off.

Oddly, the universe seemed to want to put your plans off a little.

Right next to you you could hear the click of a lock. Turning your head, you realized someone had left the apartment next to you. He was a young man, with auburn hair and hazel eyes. His hair was a little messy, but his aura was casual and friendly. Was he Joe? Most likely.

“Oh,” you said. Oh??? OH? Outstanding conversation starter, [y/n].

“Oh?” the stranger echoed, just realizing your presence next to him.

You cleared your throat, a bit embarrassed. 

“Sorry, but are you Joe Mazzello?” you asked.

For some reason, that made him break out into a smile. “Yeah, that’s me!”

Relief washed over you for a moment. “Great! Sorry- does that sound weird? It’s just- I think I got one of your letters by mistake,” you said, stumbling over your words. If you could only choose one moment in your life to facepalm, it would be right at that moment.

“Really? That’s pretty weird,” he, Joe, commented, taking the letter that was presented to him by you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

This left you in a quiet, awkward position. Neither of you knew how to comfortably continue the conversation. Thankfully, Hades didn’t seem to care, as he got impatient. Whining, he pawed at the door to be let in, dropping the package he was tired of holding.

“Ah, I should probably go. Enjoy your mail,” you coughed, opening your door for your furry friend.

“Definitely. Thanks for returning it!” Joe grinned, finishing locking his door.

“No problem.”

And that seemed like the end of the conversation. Until-

“Wait,” he suddenly said. 

You turned back to face him, your hands lingering on the door and entry way. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t get your name,” he murmured, now standing to face you completely.

Something about that gave you a bit of a light and friendly feeling. Almost comfortable, despite being strangers.

“I’m [y/n] [l/n],” you said, reflecting his smile.

“Cool, cool,” he responded. “I’ll see you around then, [y/n],” he beamed.

You hoped that statement to be true when you bid farewell to each other and parted ways.

You just didn’t expect it to be so soon afterward. 

The cafe was quiet and peaceful. You were responding to a client’s email on your phone, sipping your drink. In your mind, you had decided to leave and return home in maybe ten minutes. But, once again, the universe seemed to foil your plans again.

“[y/n]?”

The sound of his voice, and your name, of course, made your head shoot up suddenly in its direction. There he was, clad in a dark shirt, jacket, and jeans. In his hand was a cup of what looked like coffee, his other hand stuffed into his pocket.

Shutting off your phone, you suppressed an unusually large smile. He was just your neighbor, no need for a smile so big. 

“Joe! Hey, take a seat if you want!” you greeted back. He took the seat across from you gratefully.

The conversation that followed lasted, what? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? No, it was more like an hour, which was strange for someone like you. You had decided to talk about some mundane things, like the weather and how your guys’ day was. Turned out he had just come back from a meeting. And that had pulled in the topic of jobs.

“What do you do?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m a photographer, actually. What about you?” 

“Ooh, I’m an actor.”

Oh, now that really started the conversation. As time passed, you became even more comfortable with each other. He was an actor? Now, how was that not supposed to be interesting? 

“Wait, really? Was that what the meeting was for, then?” you asked, a little shocked by his modest answer. He seemed proud, that wasn’t a lie, but in no way was he boasting.

“Yeah! I got to meet all my co-stars, so that was pretty fun,” he answered. “What about you? You said you were sending emails?”

“Yeah, kind of boring, but it was just for an appointment I had just finished. I need to get them all done since I’m going away for a couple of weeks.”

“For what?” 

“Just visiting family. Kind of like a reunion,” you replied. In reality, you grandmother was sick, but you didn’t feel like it was too important of a detail. Besides, the pity you get from just that statement was a little tiring.

“I bet your dog, Hades, right? Will have a fun time somewhere new, then!” he beamed.

In return, you gave him a bit of a sad smile. “He would, wouldn’t he? But he’s not coming. Travelling stresses him out, so I’d rather not move him unless it was necessary,” you clicked your tongue. “In fact, I still have to find him a dog sitter. Everyone I know is busy so-”

“I’ll watch him!’ he offered immediately.

That made you pause for a moment. “Are you sure? I mean, he’s no trouble at all, but still-”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, a confident sound in his voice. “We haven’t started filming yet, and the project is still new for us. Besides, he sounds like a pretty fun dog to be around.”

You laughed at that statement. “Yeah, he is. I’m leaving in a few days, but if you change your mind, you can tell me. I can really just hire some random dog sitter near me or something.”

“Nonsense, it’ll be fine!” he reassured you, drawing out the “fine” as if it had a million letters in it.. At that moment, he took a quick look at the time. “Look, i’ll give you my number and we can talk about it, okay?” he offered.

The thought of giving him your number made you feel as if you heart had been filled with clouds. How strange, as you had only met a few weeks before.

“I- okay, sounds good. Thank you again! And here,” you held out your phone to him with an open contact, to which he exchanged his number with you.

And only moments after that, though he insisted he really did not want to end this conversation, he decided it was time for him to head out. The cafe closed early that day, and he had to drop by a friend’s house that day to pick something up. However much you didn’t want to admit it, you wished you could talk with him more, but you also had things to do as well, such as pack, plan, and give attention to Hades.

With that, you bid farewell again and parted ways. 

While texting, he made conversation easy, and made everything seem comfortable to you. Now, you had started developing some type of feelings, but there was no way they were real, right? Must’ve been just a little crush that would wear off in about a week or two when you’re away. 

You had talked about the details with taking care of Hades, and when the day came to leave, you unfortunately had to say goodbye to your lovely little boy.

“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll be home before you know it,” you cooed, scratching his head as Joe held the door open to bring his stuff in. It was early in the morning for everyone. He was wearing a plain white shirt and what looked like old shorts, looking as though he had just woken up, which he probably did. Your flight was early, but he insisted he was fine with the hours.

Standing up, you looked up at the boy next door once again.

“You sure you’ve gotten everything?” you asked, slightly worried.

“Don’t worry about it, [y/n]. We’ll have fun, okay? Now, you have some too. I’ll send you pictures even,” he reassured you, a lazy smile on his face. He did that a lot, didn’t he? Smile like there was no problem in the world? It was almost like a domestic sight.

“Thanks, Joe. Really, I’ll pay you right when I get home and-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Who said anything about paying?” he snorted. “This is a favor. Now go, you’re gonna miss your flight!”

Taking one last look, you gave him a quick smile, and a kiss to Hades’ forehead before leaving onto the elevator. 

While you were away in [y/s], Joe had kept his word. Everyday he had texted you goofy pictures of him and Hades, whether it be with him looking over the counter longingly at a piece of meat Joe was eating, or him bounding across the park with Joe’s cheerful commentary in the background. 

And, to make it even better, Joe had started talking to you outside of the topic of Hades. He would strike up conversation every now and then (and even you would, too), or start asking about your day after sending a video of you goof of a dog trying to play hide and seek with Joe. 

It was nice, making you feel like he really did care about knowing you, besides talking about your dog and polite conversations. Eventually, a week in, the conversations became anything. Whatever you felt like talking about, you talked about it. Like why Pringles cans were shaped the way they were, why the letter w isn’t ‘double-v’ instead. It made you excited to come back home besides seeing your pup again.

While sitting with your grandmother in the hospital room, you had gotten a message from Joe. As she was still asleep, you decided to open it. It was a simple video, with Hades rolling around the house, to which Joe described as “trying to get his wiggle-waggles out”. 

A small laugh left your lips as you watched, responding to Joe within only a few seconds.

Because you were so invested in the conversation, you were surprised to hear your grandmother speak up from her supposed slumber.

“You’ve got a boyfriend now? Why does nobody tell me anything,” she murmured under her breath.

You turned your head to look at her, not realizing your phone screen was visible to the woman’s eyes.

“He’s not my boyfriend. We met only a few weeks ago, grandma. He’s dog-sitting Hades for me,” you explained. How absurd it was for someone to assume you were in a romantic relationship just because he was a guy. However, you’d admit you wouldn’t mind a little romance. But this isn’t what we’re talking about right now.

“Oh, really? Hum. A good connection you have, then, from what I can see.”

“You were reading my messages?”

“I may have terrible hearing, but my reading can go to your screen, young lady. If you’ve known each other for only a few weeks, then it seems like you guys clicked very well,” she murmured. “Besides, seems like a friendly guy. You don’t come by those too often, huh? Especially in my time.”

You smiled fondly at the moment, squeezing the woman’s hand gently. “Ah, I think they’re easier to find now, ma, I think you’d be glad to know. But you can’t really tell that just from seeing one of our conversations,” you commented.

“Or can I?” she asked mischeviously, her face morphing into a sly smile. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, voice filled with humor.

…

Could she? She couldn’t, right?

When you returned home, it was like a weight had been pulled off your chest. You couldn’t believe your flight was done, lugging your suitcases and bags across the sidewalk to your apartment building. Oddly, there stood two familiar figures. Hades and Joe.

“Welcome home!” he said, jogging down the steps with your excited companion. He grabbed a suitcase and bag from your hold. “Decided i’d help you with your stuff,” he explained, his eyes squinting against the bright rays of the sun.

“Aw, that’s really sweet, Joe. Thanks, you really didn’t have to!” you laughed.

“Don’t mention it!” he said teasingly, walking up the steps with you. 

Seeing him again had awoken something in you. It made your heart feel high and your intelligence feel low. Something your grandma would say ‘dumb with love’. 

You had thought these feelings would go away when you spent time away from him in another state, but you happened to be wrong. You didn’t know whether to be annoyed or glad of this fact.

Finally, after a short conversation about how your trip went, you had arrived at your guys’ floor. Joe took another extra step in help and decided to help you put your things inside your room. It was as if he was finding every excuse to hang out with you as much as he could.

When you finished with the moving, and the conversation seemed to come to an end, you took out a neat wad of cash. 

“What’s this for?” he asked, before realizing. “Oh. Oh, no. Are you crazy? I’m not taking that. As I said, it’s a favor.”

“Fine, then take this as a favor,” you challenged sassily. 

“You wish, princess,” he joked, laughed at the situation. Before you could process the little nickname, he had pulled out a letter and held it out to you. “Also, I think this is for you,” he said.

What a coincidence. Another misplaced letter, just like the way you two had begun to know each other.

“Really? Weird. Thanks, by the way,” you chuckled, taking the letter from him.

For a fleeting moment, he seemed nervous. How did you pick that feeling up? You weren’t sure. But there was something there between the two of you. This silence wasn’t awkward like the ones before, but nice, actually.

“Well, I should probably head to work. I’ll see you around?” he asked, as if trying to reflect what had happened weeks before.

“Definitely. I’ll look forward to it,” you responded, glee evident in his face when you agreed.

And that was the end of the conversation for that time, with him leaving for work and your heading inside to unpack and catch up on clients. 

Later that night, you had realized you hadn’t opened up the misplaced letter Joe had returned to you, yet. Upon further inspection, you realized that… it wasn’t even a proper letter. All it had was your name on it and gibberish as the return address. How strange.

Opening the letter, it read:

Dear [y/n],

This might be embarrassing to say after only knowing each other for a short amount of time, but I really enjoy being around you. 

I know I won’t let you pay me for taking care of Hades, but maybe you could let me take you out on a date and we can call it even instead of cash? I’ll pay, don’t worry. 

No pressure!

Signed,

Joe

P.S., please let me dog-sit Hades more often- I (really) love him. He’s a good dance partner. And no, I’m not joking.

Enclosed in the envelope were several pictures of Hades playing with Joe and early morning pics that he hadn’t sent to you before. It was like a little bonus, and on the back he had written little notes describing the moment. It was sweet, really.

And so, in response to his letter, it only seemed appropriate that you would respond in the same way, right? 

Taking out a paper and pen, you began to write:

Dear Joe Mazzello,

--

Haha don’t hate me, please :)

I didn’t want to write more because I felt that would be too long, but I don’t know if you guys would even want a part two or to make this a series (which would take some time). Let me know your thoughts!

[hiddennerdworld]

A New Beginning

Avengers x Reader

Warnings: A lil bit of violence, swearing, and a lot of dialogue (I’m sorry)

Note: hey this is my first writing. I hope you like it :) sorry it’s long and has a lot of talking

You’ve been working at Stark Industries for a couple months now, and it’s been a blast. At first you couldn’t believe you were going to be a lab assistant for THE Tony Stark, your hero. But now you not only consider Tony to be your boss but also kind of like a friend. Over time your job shifted from just being a lab assistant to being an assistant for the Avengers in general. It started with meeting them while testing out new equipment and then being invited to one of Tony’s wild parties where you got to know the team better. Ever since then you’ve been spending more time outside the lab and doing more tasks around the Tower: grabbing coffee for whoever doesn’t like making their own, creating schedules, keeping score during sparring matches, even helping Peter make his web fluid.

On a what seemed to be ordinary night you decided to take some work home. You had to transfer some mission paperwork into the online database. Nothing too difficult, but the office was already mainly empty, besides those who lived there, and you were exhausted. So back to your tiny New York apartment you went.

You put your key in the door and shoved it open, almost falling into the apartment. Flinging your shoes off, you let out a huge sigh. But when you go to walk towards the light switch in the kitchen, you heard footsteps behind you.

“Turn around and give me your bag. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.” You heard a deep ominous voice grovel behind you. Then suddenly you feel something on the back of your head.

“Is that a fucking gun?!” You thought. Now shaking, you extended your hand holding the bad out. The man quickly snatched it and started rummaging. After a few seconds the man grabs the files out the bag, throws your bag back on the ground, pushes you over, and runs out of your apartment.

“Shit... shit! Shit! Shit!” After your heart stopped pacing and your breathing relaxed, you thought about how important those files were and started to freak out again.

Before long though your landlord knocked and opened the door a little more to find you lying on the floor. “Oh my God! Y/N are you okay? I saw someone run out of here, and they didn’t seem friendly.”

“Yea I’m alright I guess. Thank you.” You gave her a small smile as she helped you off the ground.

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, um well I found the guy in here when I got home and he robbed me.” Saying it out loud didn’t even seem real.

“I’m so sorry. You’re not hurt are you? What did he take?”

“No I’m alright. He just pushed me when he left so I couldn’t chase him, no injuries. And luckily he just took some stuff from work.”

“From work? That’s a little weird. Why would he want that?”

“Well I work at Stark Industries and I’m guessing it was an enemy of his trying to get some inside info.”

Your landlord stepped back shocked, “Wait, you work for Tony Stark?!”

“The one and only,” you let out a giggle. “Yea I was surprised when I first found out too.”

“While I’m really happy for you, I don’t know if having someone like you living here is such a good idea.”

You gasped, not expecting another bombshell tonight.

“I’m so sorry, but if this is going to be a regular thing, the threat of armed men coming here trying to hurt you, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I can’t risk the other tennents’ safety.”

You nodded, understanding her concern. This part of the city already wasn’t the most safe place to live, but adding the possible danger of random people after Stark trying to get to you would cause a lot of worry, especially after the whole Loki incident. And you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if one of your neighbors got hurt, or worse, because of you.

“Again I’m really sorry. I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Your landlord said patting you on the shoulder and leaving.

You didn’t even do your nightly routine. Just plopped into bed hoping that you might get a wink of sleep. Not didn’t seem likely though with the huge weight in your mind.

. . . . . . . . .

The next morning you slumped into the compound. Despite trying for what seemed like an eternity, you got maybe a half hour of sleep. You had already called in that morning saying you needed the day off, but you still needed to talk to Stark.

You got into the elevator preparing yourself to face him. *Ding* The elevator stopped and you were met with two familiar faces, Nat and Steve. Both greeted you with big smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Y/N! I thought you weren’t coming in today.” Steve said looking happy to see you.

“Yea, I thought I just needed a day off, but now I’m looking for Tony,” you answered quietly, voice still raspy, “You see him anywhere?”

“Last remember him talking about working in the lab today. Hey are you alright? You seem.. off” Nat said with a concerned look on her face as she put her hand on your shoulder.

You nodded unconvincingly and stepped off the elevator when it got to your floor. You waved goodbye and gave a tiny forced smile.

“Hey it’s Y/N!” Tony stood up from his station to greet you. “Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today? What happened to taking a break?”

You stared down at your feet, so nervous about what you needed to say. “About that, the break might be longer than expected.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think I’m going to have to quit, Mr Stark. I-“

“Again, it’s Tony and sorry you’re not allowed to do that.”

“But if I don’t I’m going to be kicked out of my apartment!” You started to get louder as you were getting emotional. “Last night there was a man in my apartment and he took the files. And then my landlord found out and said it’s too dangerous for me to live there while working for you. I love working here but that’s the only place affordable for me and- and.”

Tony stopped you by grabbing your shoulders. “Okay slow your roll. Take a deep breath now.” He did an exaggerated breath while you did so. “Good, now did you see who it was?”

You shook your head. “I-I never got a look of his face. It was so dark and he was basically behind me the whole time with a gun to my head”

“Wait what?!” You heard someone call out. Turning to look at the sound you find Steve hiding in the doorway. However, it wasn’t just Steve. One by one, almost the whole team walked out.

“Nice going. Aren’t you supposed to be a super spy?” Sam said hitting him on the shoulder.

“Have you guys been there the whole time?” You ask rubbing the tears from your eyes.

“More or less.” Nat replied “Sorry, hun. Steve and I saw how weird you were being and decided to follow you off the elevator. Then everyone else decided to join in.” She said eyeing the group.

“So are you alright?” Steve stepped up and asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah I’m not hurt. I let him get the files though. I-I’m so sorry.” The tears start flowing again.

“Hey don’t worry about the stupid files.” Tony grabbed your attention again, “I just feel bad you were in that position in the first place. We’ll figure this out.”

“But, Tony I-“

“I got an idea!” He said lifting his arms up in excitement, interrupting you again. “You can live here! Boom problem solved!”

You looked up in surprise. “Wait what?! You would really let me do that. But I’m just an assistant, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Bullshit!” Sam yelled. Everyone nodded in agreeance.

“He’s right, Y/N, to be honest I’m not sure how it happened, but seeing you work here these past 6 months, I can tell everyone has grown to need you,” Vision calmly said, “Your reliability and cheerfulness have affected us all and now we don’t want that to go away.”

“Yea, you’re like our little mascot.” Sam said making you giggle a little.

“See, kiddo. You’re an essential part of this team. You’re not gonna ditch us now are you?” Tony asked with puppy eyes. You could feel everyone else’s gazes on you also as you stated at the floor.

You sniffled and a smile started to grow on your face. “Well I guess I don’t have a choice do I?” You giggled and looked up. “I would love to stay here with you guys.”

You heard everyone cheer. All of a sudden Nat pulled you into a hug. Soon everyone else joined in too. You couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you guys.” They gave you a tight squeeze. You were ready to start life here with your new family... maybe after a nap though.

[just-a-girl-and-her-ships]

Slibbs Writers - Scott Williams

(If he wrote it, chances are it's a good story, with some great Slibbs.)

Season 15

Ready or Not (15x09) dir. Terrence O'Hara

Gibbs, Jack and Bishop try to take down terrorist Andre Yorka. The first real case where we see Slibbs together in the field. Great scene in autopsy as Gibbs assures Jack that they will get the man responsible for the death of her friend. The look on his face when she pulls the bullet out too? So proud. 😍

This is also the ep when McGee's twins are born.

One Man's Trash (15x17) dir. Michael Zinberg

Gibbs and Ducky realize, while watching their favorite show, that an antique war stick may be the weapon used in a cold case many years ago. Such a great episode. Ends with Gibbs inviting Jack over for steaks and showing her his dad's razor.

Also, the character of Kasie Hines is introduced.

Date with Destiny (15x24)

Cowritten with George Schenck and Frank Cardea

Directed by Tony Wharmby

Season Finale of season 15. Jack goes on a date and runs face to face with Nigel Hakim. After confronting him in Vance's office, Gibbs checks in on her which leads to Jack revealing what happened to her as a POW and literally revealing her scars to Gibbs. Gibbs then tells her about killing the man who shot his family. Jack is the one person he told.

Season 16

Love Thy Neighbor (16x02) dir. Terrence O'Hara

The team is called to a crime scene in a suburban neighborhood. The deceased is found in the hot tub in the backyard. Great Slibbs scenes!

What Child Is This? (16x10) dir. Michael Zinberg

Oh so good, right? But he also leaves you wanting more. Jack gave him a bottle of "Kentucky's Finest " but what did he give her? When the baby, Nick and Ellie were at Gibbs' house, and Jack arrived....what made her go to Gibbs place really? And she looked so at home there! Next stop, MTAC....and they arrive together?

Then when it's time to bring the baby to his new parents, Gibbs stops by Jack's office. "Hey Jack. Ya still coming?" There are definitely scenes off camera between these two that we are missing.

Also, this is the first introduction to her daughter, Faith, when she is checking out her social media.

Bears and Cubs (16x16) dir. Diana Valentine

Main focus is on Jimmy's father-in-law and the case but Slibbs are working well together here, talking to the dad of the deceased. When they need someone to go undercover who can play poker...Gibbs knows the perfect person. Because in her words "I beat him once in one of his friendly poker games and now he calls me the Cincinnati Kid." Yeah. We need to see THAT game!

Lost Time (16x23) dir. Diana Valentine

Teleplay by Scott Williams

Story by Williams and Frank Cardea

Gibbs is having a hard time after he told his team about murdering Pedro Martinez. He seeks Grace's help in a bar. We find out later that Grace was in the middle of a breakthrough with another patient....Jack. At the end, they continue that session with Jack revealing that she feels alone and wants to let someone in, but isn't sure the other person feels the same way. Grace gets all 👀👀👀 and then 😍😍😍

Season 17

Going Mobile (17x03) dir. Thomas J. Wright

Oh they so have a thing. 😁 Nick and Jack have an interesting conversation in the elevator. She's trying to counsel them to improve their morale, but since Gibbs won't approach her, she goes to others to make sure he's ok. Which leads to their conversation in her office. Which ultimately leads to Gibbs replacing the ink blot with an elephant painting.

There are also multiple references to What Child Is This?. Nick references how "tight" they seemed to be back then. And then Gibbs gifts her the painting with the note "Merry Christmas"....a few months too late mind you. 😊

In The Wind (17x11) dir. Rocky Carroll

The search for Phineas. When Gibbs sees that Jack is on the other line, he ends the call with Ziva. Jack comes over quickly (because she is already there!). She's by his side to help find Phineas and comforts him when he can't remember the details. They later share a moment in the elevator, but the hug just wasn't enough!

At the end, he can't believe what she's done and she states "miracles happen". Oh how we wish they would.

And let's not forget Jack's line, after Ziva thanks her for taking care of Gibbs' heart...."We take care of each other's. "

Blarney (17x19) dir. Rocky Carroll

Not a Slibbs episode but great nonetheless. And Gibbs' reaction when he realizes it's HIS diner that is the site of the hostage situation....no words are necessary.

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Book 1, Chapter 1: Meetings

Azure looked at the comm line as it lit up and made a soft buzz. She wiped her hands on her pants and turned off the tool she was using, confused. "Ma's not supposed to call me this early in the month..." she muttered, donning a headset and tapping the answer key. "Ma? It’s a couple weeks early, isn't it?"

There was a long pause, before someone cleared their throat and an uncertain, yet extremely professional sounding male voice said, “...Dr. Zaraya? Is that you?”

“Been a while since someone’s called me Doctor, but no, I don’t think I’m the one you’re lookin’ for." She scratched her head, also confused. "This is Ma’s line.” She thought for a moment and added, “If you compromise her comfort I'll personally fling you into a star."

“...Her daughter?”

“Use child, kid, or spawn if you would. Not exactly a daughter.”

“My apologies,” he amended swiftly. “And your pronouns?”

“She and her, still. They’s too mushy in the mouth for me.” She smiled a little. It never got old to have someone ask and correct themselves that quickly.

Trinity made a soft noise of assent. “At least you know the Doctor. She’s been exceedingly difficult to find so far. My name is Trinity Jericho, and your mother built something for me some time ago. I need her to repair it.”

 "Oh boy. I got some awful news for you, pal." She transferred the line to a more secure one, a soft beep in the background as she did. "She doesn't really have the time to make fixes these days, she's under lock and key. She can't play mechanic for you, even if she wanted to."

Trinity let out a long, hissing breath. “She’s still under house arrest? I suppose they must have changed their security sometime in the past three years…” He sounded genuinely frustrated, even through that calm, professional voice. “Well... thank you for your time. I apologize about the wrong number.”

On the other end of the line, Azzy frowned. Of course her Ma was still under house arrest, she She would normally have let him hang up, but she hated the idea of something her mom made going obsolete. "Well now hold on a minute-” she blurted. ”I said she can't do it. If it's a fix you need, I can handle it." She shifted in her seat and set her feet on her desk with a heavy clunk. "Jericho, is it? What am I working with, and what was the year of installation? If it's Ma's custom work, you're not gonna find a single soul that can figure those connections out faster than I can, and you sound like the busy sort."

“...Hm.” He paused, considering. “Well, with anyone else I’d say it’s impossible, since the model is one of a kind, but it seems as if you’re the best chance I have. It’s a right eyeball, basic internal connection to the brain for sight, along with some extra capabilities. Installed in 30XX. Something went wrong about a week ago, and I lost all movement in that eye and most of my sight. I’d like to have depth perception again.” 

She rubbed her temple. "An eyeball in 30XX..." Another hum. "I think I remember her mentionin’ somethin’ like that. Here." A ping sounded to the device. "Head to those coordinates, I'll get you cleared with my cap’n to come aboard, and we'll get you seein' right faster’n a warp speed jump to your next door neighbor."

There was another chime sound from his end as he received the coordinates, and he hummed slightly, checking them over. They were a bit too high on the Z axis to be planetside, but otherwise not too terribly far from his location. “I can be there in an hour. Is your workshop on a space station, then?”

"Of a sort. Ping when you arrive, don't get too smart no matter how saucy the helmsman gets with you. Good luck." She leaned back in her chair and hit a button. "Indigo, I have a personal request, and I need it approved fast."

When the ship landed, the airlock door opened to reveal a handsome young man with sandy colored hair swept back away from his forehead. Behind one ear was a longer piece of hair braided neatly with a black glass bead, and tiny black studs glinted in his earlobes. He had a black cap pulled low over his face, a casual touch that looked completely out of place next to the rest of his clothes-- a dark green button down, black slacks, and dress shoes. He stood with his hands loose at his sides, a posture of practiced calm.

Azure, hands clean for once in her life, greeted him at the lock, cybernetics quietly crackling. Her beanie was slouching precariously towards the back of her head, her brassy red dyed hair braided neatly to the side. She carried herself with an easy slouch. One look and you could just tell this person did not ever sit in chairs properly if they could help it. "Azure. Pleasure to meet you, welcome to the ship. Hope Smalls didn't get too touchy with ya."

“The pleasure is mine.” In person, his voice was quiet, smooth, and just expressive enough to sound friendly. As he approached to shake her hand, she caught a glimpse of his right eye from under the brim of his cap. It was the same deep emerald green as the left one and looked perfectly normal, except for the fact that it was completely motionless, creating a somewhat unsettling effect that he was always staring directly at her. Unlike some visitors they had, he didn’t look like he’d been too put off by the ship’s snarky AI pilot. “He was fine, but I get the impression that your ship doesn’t typically get many visitors.” He looked around- with one eye, at least. The other stayed locked in place. “I… can’t say I’m too surprised. Forgive me, but this place looks more like a cargo carrier than a passenger ship or station.”

She was entirely unphased, peering into the motionless eye with a thoughtful look that softened the hard set of her jaw. "That's because it is. Handled the retrofittin’ myself." She turned and started walking, the crackling subsiding as it became clear he was actually here for maintenance and not to ransack the ship. "I hope you don't mind, I'm not great at pleasantries so I'm just gonna take you straight to the med for the standard exam. I’m a doctor in cybernetics, not you know...doctorin’."

“Of course. As long as you can fix my eye I don’t particularly care what your conversational skills are.” He put his hands in his pockets-- again, casual in a way that seemed like an affectation. He was a little too careful not to shove or ruin the line of the slacks. “Speaking of eyes, do you truly need me to close mine? Your pilot kept cracking jokes about security.”

She rolled her eyes. "Nah, Smalls is just fuckin’ with you. There’s enough firepower aboard the ship that you’d likely die on sight if you tried anythin’, and half the place is still storage anyway so it really ain’t worth much to get into." It didn’t seem like a real threat or warning, but a casual observation. She led him to an elevator and pressed a button. "As far as business goes, you might be interested to know I worked on your eye durin’ the initial blueprintin’ phases."

“Oh, is that so?” He sounded vaguely impressed. “I suppose more people knew about it than I thought. Up until now— well, up until recently, I assumed only I and your mother knew about it.” He didn’t seem too upset about the revelation, but perhaps it was just the unshakable calm that he seemed to carry with him. Neither his voice or his face betrayed much emotion beyond the words he spoke-- at best, the sort of interest one might have in talking about the weather.

"Oh, it’s just you me and Ma, unless you're a blabbermouth. And I didn’t know who it was for at all until you called." The elevator door slid open and she stepped inside, pressing another button and leaning leisurely against the wall. "She called your eye the Babylon Project. Joke about your name, I'm assumin'. I helped design some of the attachments and recordin’ implements."

He chuckled. “That’s a decent pseudonym, though I don’t think those two cities have any real biblical connection. Perhaps I’ll use it sometime.” He pursed his lips. “My work tends to require that I keep my mouth shut, so most of the details are under lock and key. Mistakes happen, but I intend to keep it that way as much as I can. I’m sure you can see how some of the functions work best if they stay unknown.” Unbidden, the memory of one time he hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut sprung to mind, and he frowned. He still hoped that particular interaction wouldn’t come back to bite him. He certainly wouldn’t be the one to seek it out.

"I'm nothin' if not able to keep a secret. Talkin’ makes me nervous." It could have been a joke, maybe. The elevator doors slid closed, and then opened a few long moments later. "You're about to meet Pthalo. She conducts all her business on paper so you can burn evidence if you wish. It's standard protocol to have an uninvolved medic test for health, I'm sure you're aware."

“Yes, I understand the need for doctors. There was a similar procedure when I got it.” He smiled. “The eye itself isn’t the secret, just the functions. Thanks to your mother, it looks like a high tech prosthetic unless you know better.”

"Unfortunately, more and more people know better lately." She grumbled, and it was clear she was mulling something over as she stepped out of the elevator. They were both greeted by a blue alien with a gentle yellow glow beneath her skin in a pristine white lab coat. Her voice was just barely noticeably dual-layered, harmonizing with itself under her breath. 

"Good evening, my name is Pthalo. Azure's going to let me take it from here, and I'll lead you to her workshop after the appointment." She gestured to the room behind her and to the right, windows looking into a pristine medical bay, a pitbull posted just outside the door.

“Hello, Pthalo, I’m Trinity Jericho.” He glanced down at Payne, his expression changing to make him look younger, somehow. “May I pet her?”

Pthalo gave a sunny smile. She oozed sunshine. "Oh you're more than welcome. Her name is Payne, she's the ship-wide emotional support animal." Payne's tail began a steady rhythmic thumping against the floor as he approached, eyes closing as soon as his hand touched her head. This was a very good dog.

Despite his earlier actions-- cooly professional posture, minute care for his fancy clothing-- Trinity now knelt down right next to the dog without a care for the dusty floor. He scratched industriously behind the ears, using both hands, and the first real smile Azure had seen from him came to his face. It was...cute. “Who’s a good girl? You are, yes you are!” After a while of similar whispered baby talk and petting he finally stood, almost reluctantly. The smile remained a moment longer, fading back into obscurity as he moved towards the med bay door. “Sorry for the delay. That’s a very good dog you have, ma’am. I’ve never seen a ship with an emotional support dog, but it’s actually quite a good idea. Maybe I’ll suggest it to my company.”

"It's no problem, being pet all day is her entire job." Pthalo gently closed the door behind them, and Azure could be seen making her way down the hall, presumably to her lab. "The ship takes all types, dogs couldn't judge if they wanted to. We have a few members that make use of her presence daily, she's become quite spoiled. I'd say anything that's good for low level employee morale and health is good for the company, but that's not news I'm sure." She gestured to an examination table. "Hop up, shirt off. Please point out where the prosthetic is."

“No, I understand that concept well enough. I’m sure it’s just as good for you as it is for everyone else, huh girl?” He took off his hat, carefully fixing his hair that had been trapped beneath, and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a tattoo across his left collarbone showing three small but beautifully detailed birds in flight, just over his heart. Each one’s pattern and shape was unique. The opposite collarbone was decorated with something that looked like a half-destroyed tower. The tattoo seemed to continue onto his back, out of sight. He got onto the table, and looked back up and over at Pthalo. “Right here.” He pointed to the motionless eye.

Pthalo startled but recomposed herself almost instantaneously. "You know, I probably could have guessed that, eh?" A gentle smile. "Do you wash it regularly? Was this a loss of operation due to trauma or defect?" She was walking around to collect tools as she glanced at a clipboard. "Azure gave me a quick rundown, but these checkpoints are odd, even for a standard prosthesis upgrade...." She glanced over him once, then moved in to look closer at his eye.

“The nerves were damaged in an accident. I was legally blind for a while. The other eye was salvageable, but the right optic nerve kept deteriorating so I eventually just gave in and replaced it. It’s very high tech, for a prosthetic,” he explained. “I wash it regularly, and follow all the care instructions, so it should move freely but it started locking up about a week ago. That’s why I’m getting it fixed- or upgraded, I suppose,” he corrected. That would likely make more sense with Azure’s position as a cybernetic engineer. Cybernetic upgrades to an existing prosthetic weren’t uncommon.

"I have to wonder...." She continued to look him over quietly, clearly contemplating something as she checked his vitals. Now that she was doing work, she became much more serious. Her movements flowed like water, seamlessly transitioning from one test to another, until eventually the medically-minded dance ended, and she made a few marks on her clipboard. "Well, Mister Jericho," she smiled, "it would seem you're healthy as a clam. Happy as a horse? Oh, what's the saying? Terran idioms are difficult." She passed his shirt to him. "You may just want to keep that off, if I know anything about Azure's process, it may get dirty if you keep it on."

“To be honest, I prefer your versions of the idiom.” He carefully folded the shirt over his arm and slid off the table, giving Pthalo a professional smile. “Thank you.” He turned to head towards the door, just as the clunk of a pair of boots and the soft snuffling of two dogs greeting each other heralded someone in the hall outside. A woman poked her head through the door, a different pit bull in a red harness pressed up against her shin. 

“Hey, Pthalo, I—“ her eyes fell on Trinity and widened. Silence reigned for a brief moment, and then the woman shook her head as if to clear it. “Hold that thought.” The door shut again and heavy bootfalls clattered off down the hall again. Faster, this time, like she was running.

"Cadet! Cadet you can't just-" Someday, Pthalo thought, people would tell her what was going on. She sighed and rubbed her temple before turning to Trinity. "I'm sorry, could you stay here a moment?" She opened the door and gestured Payne in, who plopped down at his feet with her tongue out. "I've not been given enough information and I've an awful feeling I'm going to need to get Azure." With that, she quietly stepped outside to place some kind of call. Things didn’t ever stop moving on this ship.

Trinity frowned. Something had been strange about that woman, beyond just her reaction to seeing him. If he’d met her before, he certainly couldn’t place her. With not much else to work with, he sighed softly, sat back down, and started petting Payne. His good eye scanned the room for any possible exits— he hoped this wasn’t turning into a trap, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

 In the hall outside, Pthalo breathed a sigh of relief as the call was answered, Azure’s voice on the other end confused. "Azure, who is Mr. Jericho? I feel like maybe you've lied to me given Cadet bolted at the sight."

At the sound of her name, Cadet halted and turned to walk back towards the med bay. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Shit, ok. Pthalo, I don’t think she knows either.” She leaned over to speak into the receiver as well, addressing Azure. “I mean, unless you do know him, in which case that’s a whole different ball game.” 

Azure's voice over the comm came through with thinly veiled annoyance. "At most, he's a family client, and that's really stretchin' the definition. I'm on my way up, hold on a minute." 

Pthalo looked at Cadet. "What's the issue? He's here for cybernetic treatment, we're sending him on his way after."

“Well, hopefully that’s all he’s here for. I’ve only met the guy once, and his intentions were fine that time, if a bit misguided, but...” she lowered her voice a bit. “He works for Fate. I never got his name, but I recognize that face. It could be a coincidence he’s here now, but I don’t like it. We can’t take chances when that bastard’s involved.”

It was at that moment Azure stepped out of the elevator to join them, hanging up the call as the doors opened. "He never mentioned anything about his work. He needs his eye fixed, it isn’t movin’." Her left hand fiddled with a set of goggles in her pocket. 

Pthalo rubbed her temple again. Someday she’d have an aneurysm, and then they’d all be sorry. "Let's take care of him first and you can question him after. The man's shirtless in my med bay and I'd like him out so I can focus on some more important matters."

Cadet sighed. “Alright, fair enough. But we have a decision to make.” She looked around at the other two. “Are we telling Perry? Either he already knows she’s here, or he’s actually totally clueless again, and I don’t know how to tell. Plus, Perry basically told the guy they’d kill him if they saw him again. We might be looking at a tussle if things don’t go well.”

Azure glared up at the ceiling, trying her best to figure out how not to out who her mother was in the process. "He isn't here because he was specifically lookin’ for me, even. I really don't think he knows Perry is here. It seems he’s just real unlucky, not everyone can be God’s favorite." 

Pthalo's gaze bored into them both, but she said nothing.

Inside, Payne took to licking Trinity's face.

Cadet stared Azure down for a bit, as if she could somehow pull more details out of her with nothing but a steely gaze, then sighed. “Ok. I believe you. We just have to hope Perry stays away from the lab while you work, then, and best case scenario he leaves without ever knowing they’re here.”

"I'll take him straight down." Azzy wasted no time, stepping into the med bay with her hands in her pockets. Payne immediately ceased her licking and barked once. "Sorry Payne, you'll have to end your bath for now." She shifted her gaze to Trinity. "C'mon, we've got work to do. Doc cleared you so we're set."

Trinity smiled slightly as he got up, with one last pat to Payne and a quick backwards glance at Cadet as he followed Azure down the hall. He still couldn’t quite place her. Maybe it was the voice that was familiar, but she’d barely spoken directly to him so he didn’t have a lot to go on. His best bet was to do as he was asked without asking questions or protesting. Acting like something was wrong was never a good idea in a situation like this. Better to ride it out as quickly as possible.

Azzy led Trinity to the elevator and hit another button, much more alert and tense than when she first greeted him. As soon as the door was closed, she turned on him. She didn’t mince words, tone dry and calculated. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped against all hope he wouldn’t try and call her bluff. Perry’s safety depended on it.

"Who are you, and why are you here, and how did you get that number?"

Trinity took half a step back in the tight confines of the elevator, feeling a strange sense of deja vu. A knife-sharp British accent echoed in his mind-- ‘I know why you’re here. Do you?’ He kept his voice as steady as possible, easily slipping into the icily calm tone drilled into him through years of practice. He didn’t want to give her a reason to jump. “I’m Trinity Jericho, I’m here because my right eye doesn’t work, and I found the number after weeks of digging trying to get ahold of your mother so she could fix it.” He held his hands out, palms up, though despite the gesture of surrender his expression never wavered. “I swear on the Jericho name.”

Azure stepped towards Trinity, her diminutive height the only thing stopping her from truly towering as she searched his gaze. Static filled the elevator, making the hair on his neck stand on end. After a moment, she seemed satisfied, and the elevator doors opened. She shook her hands a little, and the crackling coming from them ceased. Her slouch returned. "I believe you, you don't seem the overtly underhanded sort. I'm sure I'll find out I’m wrong once I’m dead, though." She walked out and led him to a workshop with a single long glass wall, and one wall covered in plans and blueprints and molecular structures and anatomy drawings, some printed and some by hand. She gestured to a seat in the middle of the room. "How's your pain tolerance?"

Trinity frowned at Azure’s back as they headed into the room. She was certainly one to watch. That static was highly unusual, even among the most powerful cybernetics he’d worked with. “High. Especially around the eye, since the nerve’s completely cybernetic.” He sat, crossing his arms. “I don’t particularly enjoy being out of the loop,” he said, conversationally. “Would you care to explain any of that?”

Azure considered Trinity’s comment as she rummaged in a drawer. "I sure would love to, but that seems like it would invoke the ire of someone best left alone." She glanced at a screen and filled a syringe. "I will tell you one thing though; no one on this ship knows who my mother is, and it's best that it stay that way. The illustrious Dr. Zaraya is understandably tough to reach, and if every cred-hoarder with an itch for a bionic-dick knew I was out here and capable of practice, not one of us on this ship would get any of the privacy or quiet we need, least of all me." She turned and gestured to his arm while she continued. "I'm no good at lyin, it's usually better that I just don't say a damn thing, but this ship with all it's colorful backgrounds make that a little tough, and so on occasion I’m called to do some talkin’ I’m not suited for."

Trinity let out a long breath. “Alright, give me a moment to run that through my southern drawl translator.” There was a surprising level of joking sarcasm in the comment, despite the situation. Maybe because of the situation-- it seemed like his ability to keep that calm exterior was waning a tad. The sarcasm seemed more natural for him, somehow. He paused, then continued. “First of all, no one will get this number from me. I didn’t intend to find it in the first place, although I’m glad I did. And yes, the other people I’ve met so far do seem… colorful. Who is it you don’t wish to make angry, the woman with the... metal arm?” He frowned as he said it, a memory tickling the back of his mind.

"Cadet's just fine." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and held the syringe next to his arm. "One, two, three." She poked him, pressing in the plunger as she spoke. True to his word, he didn’t flinch. "It would seem you're just the ladder climbin' sort, which isn't the worst thing to be, truth be told. That just tends to not sit well with certain members of our little crew here is all. Bein' well connected is dangerous, and it's why I'm gonna have to be the only one you let touch this eye of yours. Anyone catches the signature on it, you're in for tinkerin'." She walked back over to her desk after removing the needle and started digging through drawers filled with various tools. "The problem with your eye can be handled without taking it out. It's not infected, and it looks like you take care of it exactly as you were told, so it oughta be a case of replacing a coupla nodes and maybe beefin up the temp control to preserve 'em for longer."

“Perfect. I don’t plan to let anyone see it, anyway. That’s why I was looking for your mother to do this in the first place. It’s best to keep it among people who already know how it works.” He smirked slightly. “On that note, since you know how it works, you can be confident I’m not bugging this ship.” He nodded slightly at her explanation. “That sounds good. Improvements should make it less likely I have to impose on you again for a while.”

"It's every cybernetics engineer's dream to make an installation and never see the person again, while somehow knowin' nobody else touched it." She passed him an eye patch. The front of it was embroidered with a skull and crossbones. "This is for your good eye. I'm turning this one off, so you can't watch me mess around. Tends to freak the brain out."

He pulled the eyepatch over his good eye. “I’ve been walking around with this one not moving or processing depth for over a week, and seeing at maybe half capacity. I think my vertigo has vertigo.”

Azure allowed herself a little giggle of amusement. It came out somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Tell me about it. One little thing goes haywire and the whole thing stops workin'." There was the quiet buzz of a tool he couldn't see. "I'm a…” She searched for the term that preserved her identity best. “...fully integrated user, and sometimes, if I don't do maintenance at the exact right time, my ankle shuts off. I trip and drop whatever I’m holdin’ and it’s just a damn mess."

“Yes, I noticed the sparking. Unique, although that’s not surprising considering who your mother is. I’m no expert, but I’ve done a lot of research to make sure I use and care for mine properly. This is the first time it’s broken in a way I can’t fix since I got it, which is a testament to quality if I’ve ever heard one.”

"Flatterin’." It was said with amusement, but she was hard at work, her hands occasionally brushing against his face, a gentle sureness in her movement. "You're one of the smart ones, although that's because you don't treat 'em like a science set the way I do." She took an audible step back and hummed, the toe of her heavy boot tapping against the floor. "Remind me of the finer points of this thing. I recall the Babylon project well enough for my part in it, but I'm sure the good doctor put somethin’ else in this sucker for you."

“Right. I have found that the best ways to learn are observation and experimentation. I imagine you’re a bit of a climber yourself.” He smirked. “You probably know most of this, but I’ll give the rundown. The eye’s really just the center of the implant, there’s a cybernetic nervous system in place spreading from the optic nerve to the brain stem. The biggest feature she added besides the basic eye functions is the sensor. If I can get a clear line of sight to anything tech based, my eye can communicate with it and set up a one way sensor. Video and audio, streamed directly into my brain’s image processing centers. I can only have one up at a time unless I want to make my brain bleed, according to her. I’ve never tried. It’s extremely difficult to find even if you know exactly what you’re looking for. If it does get found, it’s one way so it doesn’t trace back, and it's programmed to decode itself if you dig too deep. Nothing’s infallible, though, so I prefer it if people don’t know I can do it at all. People tend to be suspicious of you if they know you have a nearly undetectable way to spy on them, and I prefer that people trust me.” He gave her a sardonic smile, seeming to recognize the irony of that statement, before continuing. 

“In terms of other cybernetics, there are a few implants I have that aren’t directly connected to the eye.” He patted his thigh. “Leg taser, installed separately by a different engineer. It’s basic tech, off the shelf. The other one’s connected to the same neural network as the eye, but it’s kind of a filter function, like an extremely fast-working cybernetic liver. I can drink all day and never feel it if I so desire, and it’s extremely useful if I think someone’s trying to poison me.” The bitter twist to his lips made her wonder how often that kind of situation came up in his daily life.

Azure looked him up and down, clearly thinking. Not that he could see, anyway. She didn’t say anything for a good little bit. "Who put in the liver filter? Cybernetics take up a lot of energy, alcohol is a great fuel for short bursts of speed or even to power the taser...." She was mumbling now and a few sparks flew from the eye before he heard her set the tool down and grabbed another one. "Wouldn't be hard to add something to give you a digital readout to an outside device to track things filtered, the filter itself could probably use an analyser update depending on when you got it, and if they're hooked to the same network but the thigh isn't, you're running at half energy efficiency and that's a cryin’ shame."

There was a soft click and his eye turned back on. She held a board in front of him with a few lines on it. "Here, calibrate a minute before you take the eye patch off."

He nodded, taking note of the changes she’d made as he waited for the eye to calibrate. It felt slightly cooler than it used to, a little less noticeable and more comfortable. His sight was mostly back to the same, but there was the suggestion of a zoom function tickling at the back of his head. She didn't mention that part, and it wasn’t immediately obvious how to activate it. Rather than try to figure it out immediately, he returned his attention to the question she’d asked him.

 “Your mother did most of the installation on the neural network, including the liver. I was a bit worried about poisoning at the time so I asked if cybernetics could do something about that. She went a bit above and beyond with it, but I won’t complain.” He blinked the eye a couple times, lining it up and getting used to the returned sight again. “Honestly, those updates sound helpful. I’ve taken to externally charging the taser so it doesn’t drain me so much, but I’ve got some burns to show for it when the external charges overheat or don’t line up right with the implant.”

“Lord mercy, do not ever charge that externally.” She frowned in his periphery, a cringe at the mention of the burns. “That’s how you wreck your actually organic nerves until they’re crispy. We're fixin' that today, shouldn't be hard. Where'd you have your main port installed?" She started circling and looked him over, eyes narrowed as the gears began turning in her head.

“What’s a little more nerve damage?” He quipped, but it seemed offhand. He was too busy ‘searching’ the eye for any further functions, squinting and experimenting as he looked around the room. There was an almost hungry look of excitement on his face as he did so, as well as evident relief at the more comfortable feeling. Somewhere in his brain, he found a "camera" function, complete with what felt like an output...idea? The suggestion of a way to export something. After a moment he seemed to process her question. He tapped the back of his neck, between the tops of his shoulder blades, easily concealed by almost any clothing. Just above it was a large, elaborate tattoo in the shape of a Celtic trinity knot, and another tattoo of a crumbling wall stretched across his toned back, curving over his spine and around his shoulder blades. It seemed meant to join up with the half-destroyed tower inked on his collarbone opposite the birds. The birds were flying towards it, she realized. Towards the wreckage-- or maybe away from the crumbling wall? As with all his tattoos, the placement and detail must have been painful. No wonder his pain tolerance was high.“Here. Direct to the spine.”

She walked around him once more and pulled a triple ended cord seemingly from nowhere. She handed a screen to him, one already set aside for herself. A few taps of her screen, and his lit up with a mapping of his nervous system and the cybernetics attached to it. "Oh man, you see that jumble there?" She points to what looked like a tangle of cables in his neck. "I'm going to move those."

“Go right ahead.” He watched the screen, entranced. “Did you make this? What a useful way to interface. I usually just end up poking around till I find what I need. It’s nice to see it all laid out like this.”

She kept tapping and then suddenly, he could not feel his liver or taser. But he could feel, as if through a fog, something sliding beneath his skin. On the screen, tendrils of nodes and wiring pulled away from nerves and muscles.

"Yeah, made it myself. Diagnostic tools're incredibly helpful, do you not have one?" She wasn’t looking at him, looking intently at her screen. "The extra screen you're holding I programmed myself, I figured it was useful for those of us who're a little on the paranoid side when it comes to physical interactions. I'm tryin to find a way to adapt it to standard medicine but my expertise isn't in temporary cybernetics, so I'm still doin’ research on how to make that work."

“I have a simple one, but it really only works for the taser because that’s standard. It gets confused trying to diagnose anything your mother did, and sets off all kinds of alarms when nothing’s wrong.” He grinned as he watched the wiring pull away on the screen. “That’s… very cool, though. I’ve dabbled in temp cybernetics, just a part of my business, but I’m not the company expert. Maybe it could work like a cybernetic endoscope, where you swallow a camera and get to see the live feed? Only for your nerves instead of your throat or digestive system.”

"That's an interestin’ idea, I'll look into it." She sounded genuine enough, for how distracted she looked. More tapping, and the wiring changed direction, beginning to spread along the length of the spine and daisy-chaining itself along the vertebrae. "As for the diagnostic tool, it makes sense that the consumer basic one wouldn't work with Ma's design. I'll get you one that works, I got plenty, and upkeep's important enough to your health that it's gonna be necessary anyway." She laughed a little to herself. "Not to mention I feel annoyed FOR you with the false alarms."

He chuckled too, nearly too quietly to hear. “Yes, I’ll admit it is frustrating. Thank you... Azure.” It took him a minute to remember her name, having only heard it a few times since boarding the ship, but as soon as he did, his brow furrowed, like he was remembering something. “...What was it you called that other woman, before?”

She glanced up at him, confused, but returned to her work amomet later. "Pthalo? The doctor?" After a moment, her brow also furrowed, and she squinted at him. If he was putting pieces together, then she really needed to get him out of here, for his own safety. "...or are you talking about Cadet?"

His fingers dug into his thigh. She winced, visualizing the newly placed wiring there, but he didn’t flinch. “Cadet, that was it. Now where do I...” he paused again, thinking.

His liver reconnected, and so did his taser. She continued tapping on her screen, and slowly but surely, a couple more function concepts entered his brain. "You should feel a little less tired at the end of the day now, and you shouldn't need to eat nearly as often."

He shook his head, looking back at her. “That’s going to be quite helpful, thank you. And how do I activate the other functions you added? I can tell it’s there, but I don’t know your signature.”

She looked up at him, almost confused for a moment, and then it looked like something clicked in her head, and for the first time since he'd met her, she looked bashful. "Oh, my bad. I always forget about new people." She scratched her head. "It uh.... requires some attuning. I don't like telling people how to live their lives so-" she waved vaguely at the air, "you'll need to assign a thought pattern or physical movement to each of them, and it'll write to the main core."

“Smart.” He smiled. “I’ll have to take some time to do that later. I like the way you have it set up, though, where I know it’s there without being told. It feels natural.” He still sounded a tiny bit distracted, like he was lost in thought, but genuinely happy about the developments.

"I don't like being overly aware of mine, so I assume non obtrusive is the way to go for others as well." She detached her cords and handed him his shirt, and started rummaging through her things, head in cupboards. "Let me know if things start actin’ strange, I'll send you my regular ping address so I don't confuse you for Ma again. That line isn’t really supposed to ring unless it’s her, you can imagine how confused I was."

“I appreciate it. Thank you for the tune-up, as well as the other updates.” He stood up and pulled his shirt on, buttoning it all the way up once more. “How much do I owe—“ he froze suddenly as he finally put the pieces together, eyes wide. For some reason, even as his face grew more expressive, his voice became less so. “Oh. I should really leave.”

"Oh it’s only a few-" She squinted at him, and then sighed. God damn it, she’d REALLY hoped to avoid a freakout. She kept her voice level and closed the cupboard. "You frequent a very specific bar, do you not?”

He nodded with a tight little smile, and began to move towards the door. “If I recall, you owed someone 10 credits from that little situation.” She almost had to strain to hear him, even from just a few feet away. “They asked you if having an eye like mine was possible, to verify my story. That’s where I heard your name. And you knew from before we got in the elevator.” He faced her, expression deadly serious. “I will swear to you again that I didn’t track anyone down to get here except your mother. But I’d prefer not to be found here, just in case someone else doesn’t believe me.”

She sighed again, hands crackling once more as she shook them. Sparks flew to the ground and petered out. “That bet ended in a draw, thanks to Ma. Follow me, move quiet, get your hat on and don't talk." She looked at a nearby screen for a moment, thinking, nodes at her joints beneath her skin glowing a pale purple. "I believe you, there's no way for you to have found that number without knowing who my ma is. You're not gonna die, I can talk them down, but that's not something I WANT to do because I’m shit at talkin’, so let's just go." She brushed past him and began her trek down the hall.

He did as she said, pulling the cap down over his face and following behind her. “I know I’ve already been recognized, so I assume the only reason I’m still onboard is that you and the others who saw me agreed not to share that information.”

Azure sighed as she entered the elevator, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. "Cadet recognized you, but I don't think she or Pthalo really want to bother you at this point." She glanced over. "One hell of an impression you must have made, your neck wasn't snapped on sight." She curled her hand into a fist and then shot her fingers out over and over, little static pulses emanating through the room each time. "I don't think I need to tell you that you can probably find a much better role model than the one you've got. Partially because you can probably tell by now, and partially because my opinion ain't gonna matter to you much."

He shook his head incredulously, and backed up just slightly from her crackling hands to lean against the elevator wall. “You know, I think this is a first for me. The only other people I’ve met who treat me like a criminal over who I work for are business competitors.” He sighed, still watching her hands carefully. “I appreciate the opinion, but no one’s perfect. He’s a great leader and a great businessman, and at the very least I can learn from that. I don’t appreciate his advances towards your friend, and I understand the danger he poses, but considering how well defended everyone on this ship seems to be, is it truly this much of a problem?”

Azure looked at him, her voice measured. The accent seemed to disappear with how carefully she spoke. Each word dripped with weight. "Did you ever think about why he tries to find her, when she so clearly doesn't want to be found? Did you really think about the fact he does this so often, so routinely, the same way every time, to the point where if it had been anyone else that had made that eye, you'd have been doing the same goddamned thing? You don't know what he did before he got to be the cutthroat he is, and why he's that way to begin with." She glared at the elevator doors as they opened. "You're a climber, and that's all well and dandy, so you probably don't really care all that much because it's none of your business, therefore it shouldn’t have anythin’ to do with you. But it is OUR business. And we don't like him because he's maybe the lowest life form we're aware of, and they’re...important to us."

He watched her as she spoke, expression impassive. He allowed silence to reign for a few moments after she finished, taking the time to process her words before responding, slow and calm. “I understand. I have accepted that I am a criminal to some, and I’m sure it’s justified in many cases. At least I can appreciate your loyalty. I have some of my own.” He looked over at her, meeting her eyes with a directness that seemed to cut through all the tension between them. “Here is what I can promise you. No one will be getting that number, and no one will learn anything about this ship or who’s on it from me. I’ll pay you for the fix and improvements, and hopefully stay well out of your way from now on. But if the eye breaks again... I’d rather have you fix it than anyone else. I’ll understand if that isn’t an option.”

Azure looked up at him and something behind her eyes softened, though her hands continued crackling. She looked almost concerned, even after her diatribe, and stepped out of the elevator to beeline for the docking bay. "I'll always fix somethin' Ma made when it breaks. Hopefully it doesn't break often though. Bill will reach you later. Won't be much, I made some easy adjustments." She looked back at him. "And I never said I thought you were a criminal. I said your boss sucked ass. I think you've got lofty goals and an eye for progress, and for some people the ends to that progress justify the means, and I’m not really one to act like I know what’s right or wrong in that situation."

“Fair enough.” He watched her hands with just a touch of apprehension, and adopted a slightly more casual tone. “If anyone here could be considered a criminal, I wouldn’t be too surprised if it was you and your friends. Not that I have room to judge.”

She laughed. "Hey, I'm just the mechanic, unregistered custom implants notwithstanding. You'd be behind on your paperwork too if you tinkered as often as I do."

“I realize those implants are absolutely not industry standard… but neither are mine. I doubt anything your family makes is. You realize you could easily rip me apart using those, yes?”

Her brows shot up into her beanie, then quickly lowered themselves as she ran numbers in her head. She looked down at her hands, crackling with nervous energy, like they were an interesting puzzle. "...I hadn't thought about it. I wouldn't know where to start to get the accuracy high enough to accomplish dismemberment." She looked at him, expression far away and distracted. "...SHOULD I be able to rip you apart?"

He huffed out a quiet breath, on the edge of becoming an anxious laugh. “I’d very much rather you didn’t. I’m just saying I’ve never seen anything like your cybernetics before. You’re telling me you’re that powerful of an integrated user and you’ve never realized what you could do?”

She looked down at her arms, and her brow furrowed. "I'm always tinkerin’ with 'em, I knew they were good but I figured the market for 'em was high enough someone else would've had 'em figured out as well eventually. I guess throwin' trains isn't a common necessity. Technically it's not necessary for me either but....I need them to be like this to accomplish the goals that I’ve got for later. I’m on a steppin’ stone right now." Her face was almost bewildered. "...I could kick Crim's ass."

“You shouldn’t be directly fighting anyone, with that kind of power!” His volume rose a degree, and he clamped his lips back over the sound before anything else could escape. Logically, he knew she was probably joking, but the idea of what she could do to another human being with those tiny, sparking hands was genuinely unsettling. He removed his hat to run a hand anxiously through his hair, replacing it immediately afterwards, and muttered something to himself that sounded a bit like the beginning of a Hail Mary with a touch more swearing. This was certainly a different side of him than the buttoned up businessman that had presented himself in the ship’s airlock a few hours ago. “Trains. God. I’m damned glad you haven’t decided I’m your enemy, Azure.”

"Shit, me too." She would have giggled if she didn’t feel sort of foolish for not having the realization herself. "It's not that hard, I just eat a lot. It only gets tough when I'm nervous." The airlock was within sight now. She gestured ahead. "Your ride is waiting."

He shook his head, letting out a long breath. “I feel like I’ve dodged at least three bullets and I’ve barely been here an hour.” He held out a hand to her with a crooked smile. “Nice to meet you, Azure. It’s been bad for my blood pressure.”

She shook off the static again and shook his hand. "Pleasure's mine, Trinity. See a doctor about that." She gave a little wave and hollered to no one in particular, "Disembarking personnel bay five, open the airlock!"

And with that, the doors slid open.

Trinity gave her a final wave before that cool businesslike persona reasserted itself over the person Azure had somehow caught a glimpse of-- someone who smiled, baby-talked dogs, and bastardized Catholic prayers if you caught him off guard. Shoulders back, he turned and strode down the gangplank to where his own pod waited to return him home.

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