#he immediately became best friends with the guy that burned down his house

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” she had encircled your waist with an arm as she walked you to the car. She had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.” 

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[your-mom-friend]

I can’t get over Kageyama Ritsu…everyone says he’s the more popular, more attractive and cool Kageyama Brother but literally every scene of him at school ever is him avoiding anything that’s not School Council and not talking to anyone or so much as SMILING at anyone. He’s literally Mob if mob styled his hair.

Like honestly Mob and Ritsu are the SAME amount of socially awkward but the issue is that Mob is just more blunt and WILL say he’s not enjoying your company and leave (he’ll try to be polite but it’ll fall flat) but Ritsu is Bound By This Mortal Concept of Social Politeness and wouldn’t just say that to people’s faces so everyone thinks he’s the nicest guy when in fact he’s been hoping to spontaneously learn invisibility for the last half hour

Like that time Tsubomi came to Spirits and Such did you see his face he wasn’t even as intense fighting for his life against Claw as he was hiding from her lmao

Ritsu acts like he’s completely chill but is in fact a pathetic loser (affectionate). He calls his brother Nii-San. He hates Reigen with all the hate in his heart. He found the kid that kicked his ass when he was kidnapped and then let him into his home. He let that guy burn his house down for kicks. He became best friends with that kid. He keeps a spoon in his pocket. He can and will kill people if he feels like it. He got psychic powers and immediately became a villain about it for like 3 whole minutes before getting his ass humbled. He’s literally 13 and it makes everything about him 300% better.

[mattnickchrisfan]

Best Friends Brother - Matthew Sturniolo

summary: you’re best friends with nick but there’s something about his brother, matt, you just can’t resist…

warnings: pure smut, fluff, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickies, making out, dirty talk, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), pet names (baby, sweetheart, my love, princess), slow burn (2.1k words before they get it onnnnnn), cliffhanger??

a/n: heyyyyy everyone!!! my name is layla and this is my first fanfic!!! i'm still really new to posting (but definitely not new to tumblr 😏) so bare with me as i try to get used to my writing skills. also pleaseeee message me if you have ANY requests im so open to requests as i usually dont know what the fuck to write about so i would love to make you guys happy with writing what you’re wanting. i lowkey had so much fun writing this so i really hope you guys like it. anyways enough yapping. lets get freaky!!!

w.c: 3.2k

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

You couldn’t help it. 

Everytime you try to brush it off, that feeling, it just keeps lingering in the air. 

But no one knew what’s going on in your dirty mind….so it was okay right?

Right?

“Ughhh I’m so tired, I barely got any sleep last night.” You plop down onto Nick’s white couch. Nick invited you over to hang out with him for the day and spend the night at his house.

“Same! Matt and Chris hopped on Fortnite at like 2am and I couldn’t fall back asleep. Those assholes,” Nick opens a Dr. Pepper and takes a big sip.

You’d been best friends with Nick for as long as you can remember. Ever since freshman year of high school. You guys just clicked. That’s it. It just felt right. You guys became even closer after you were the first person he came out to. You guys had some ups and downs throughout high school but you eventually made up and became besties again. 

Nick’s brothers were a different story. Chris and Matt. They were triplet brothers so of course they were inseparable. They automatically became your friends too. Chris always felt like a younger brother to you. Always yelling, screaming, burping, doing anything to annoy you. Sure, you thought that Chris was a little hot but your relationship was strictly platonic. 

“Where’s Matt and Chris?” You ask Nick.

 “Probably still sleeping since they went to bed so late last night.” Nick rolls his eyes. 

Just as he does so, you hear a bedroom door open with a creek. You immediately know from the footsteps who was about to walk in the room. 

There it was. That feeling. You’ve had crushes on guys before that make you feel a certain way when they walk by you or look at you, but, he made you feel something different.

Matt. Matthew Sturniolo. Your best friend's brother. 

As you guessed it, Matt walks into the living room and greets Nick. He then stops in his tracks and looks straight at you. 

Goddamn those blue eyes. 

“Hey y/n,” he mutters. Your heart flutters as your stomach does a backflip. Act cool. “Uh- he- hey Matt!” you stutter. 

Fuck! What happened to acting cool? 

Nick side eyes you. “You good, y/n?” 

Shit. “Uh-ye-yeah, I’m good.” Nick laughs, “Why are you blushing? You weirdo.” 

“I’m not!! Um- I mean, I’m not. I’m just…it’s hot in here. I need some air.” You quickly get up off the couch and run downstairs to open the door. You start to take deep breaths. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” You say out loud. All of a sudden you hear a car door unlock in front of you. 

Matt’s car. 

You whip your head around to see Matt standing right infront of you with his keys in his hand.

“Wanna come for a drive with me?” Matt asks, taking a second to soak you in, looking at you up and down. 

You look down, trying to hide your red face as much as possible. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’m down.” Matt smiles, “Good.” 

That one word made you feel the need to clench your legs together. Putting the thought away, you make your way to the passenger seat of Matt’s car. You buckle your seatbelt and take a breath.

“You okay? You’ve been…kinda off lately.” Matt focuses on pulling out of the driveway but has a slight concerned look written on his face. “Who me?” You stutter. “Yeah I’m fine. I’m honestly just stressed with college and midterms. All that shit.”

You lie to Matt. Your midterms are done. 

The way you’re feeling has nothing to do with school. 

You and Matt drive in silence for a while, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. The windows are down, and the cool air brushes through your hair, but it doesn’t seem to cool the heat building in your chest. Your heart is still racing. You’re still flustered. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, and every time you steal a glance at him, your pulse quickens.

It’s not just the way he looks at you, though. It’s the way he sees you. You’ve been friends for years, but lately, something in the way he acts has shifted. He’s been more aware of you, more present in a way that makes it hard to breathe. The way he holds his gaze a little longer when he speaks to you. The way his shoulder sometimes brushes against yours in the kitchen when you’re both reaching for the same thing. 

Matt isn’t like that with anyone else. 

And it messes with your mind. 

You look at him now, the way his hands grip the steering wheel with ease, his knuckles slightly tense from his grip. His jaw is clenched, his lips pressed together in a straight line, as if he’s concentrating on the road. But his eyes flick to you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and you catch him studying you with that intensity. 

You try your best to ignore it, but it just keeps coming back to haunt you. 

You push the thought away and try to stay focused on the road even though you weren’t even driving. A couple minutes later, Matt breaks the semi-awkward silence. “Are you hungry? I have something that I think you might like…”

“What?!” You exclaim. 

Damn your dirty mind.

–––––––––––––––––––

You and Matt get home from the In-N-Out drive thru, burger wrappers and empty soda cups in both of your hands. As you walk up to the front of his house, Matt turns around, opening the door with his back, never breaking eye contact with you as he does so.

Why was that so hot?

He holds the door open for you and you walk inside first. He then follows behind you. “Nick! Chris! I’m home!” He yells. No one responds. “Hello? Nick? Chris?”

They’re not home. It’s gonna be you and Matt alone in his house…

“Oh fuck I forgot Nick has a shoot for Spacecamp and Chris went with him. It’s just gonna be you and me then. Is that okay?”

You try to hide your blushing face from him for the umpteenth time since you first saw him. You wanted to say ‘No Matt. If I’m alone with you, I won’t be able to stop myself from getting you to fuck me right on your kitchen table’. Did you actually say it? 

No. 

‘Y-Yeah of course, it’s fine.”

“Perfect.” Matt smiles at you and you swear you saw him look at your lips before signaling you to walk up the stairs

Could this be it? Could this be the day that you finally tell Matt how you feel? Or even better, could he admit to having feelings for you first? He did look at your lips…right? 

Matt lets you walk up the stairs first, trailing behind you. You can practically feel his eyes on you from behind and it sends a shiver down your spine. You walk towards the white couch you were just sitting on not 2 hours ago. But this time you were alone with Matt, not Nick. You eventually sit down on the couch, Matt making an effort to sit impossibly close to you. 

“You’re not really good at hiding what you’re thinking are you?” Matt says, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. “You look like you’re about to pass out.” You laugh nervously, trying to play it off, but it only makes things worse. You’re both so close, and the space between you feels like it’s shrinking by the second. That teasing smile fades from Matt’s face, replaced by something deeper, something more serious. And that’s when you both realize it: the tension has been building to this moment, and there’s no turning back now.

“Matt…I- there’s something I need to talk to you about-” 

Your words are cut off by Matt slamming his lips onto yours.

After the kiss breaks, Matt pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling with the same wild rhythm that matches your pulse. His eyes are dark, filled with something raw, something that makes your stomach flip and your heart race.

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to gather himself, and there’s a brief silence between you two, heavy with all the unspoken things that have been building for so long. The air is thick with desire, but there’s an undeniable tension—an internal conflict brewing beneath the surface.

“God, y/n,” Matt mutters, his voice low and strained. “I’ve wanted that for so long. I can’t believe I’m finally—” He cuts himself off, and when he looks at you again, his gaze is both intense and vulnerable. “I’ve tried to push it away. I’ve tried to pretend like I didn’t feel this way. But every time I see you, it just—God, it kills me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking into you. 

He feels the same. He’s thinking the exact same thing that you’ve been dreaming about for God knows how long.

The kiss has left you breathless, but now there’s a different kind of tightness in your chest. You want more. You need more. But you can’t ignore the voice of reason that’s still whispering in your mind, warning you of the consequences.

“Matt,” you begin, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay calm. “This…this isn’t right. We can’t just do this. What about Nick? He’s your brother. And my best friend.” You don’t know why you were saying this as you were wanting this for just as long as Matt has. 

The mention of his brother seems to hit Matt like a punch to the gut. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s struggling with something deep inside himself. He reaches for your hand, his fingers warm against yours, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion.

“I know,” he breathes, shaking his head slightly, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “I know this isn’t right, y/n. I know I should be thinking about Nick. I am thinking about him. But every time I’m around you… it’s like I can’t think about anything else. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I just… I can’t pretend anymore.”

You meet his eyes, your heart pounding as his words sink in. I can’t pretend anymore. There’s something in his tone, something raw and honest, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I want you too,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Matt. But how can we do this? How can I do this knowing it might tear everything apart?”

Matt moves closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “I don’t have an answer,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I don’t know how this is going to work, but I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this way. I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady the storm inside you. You’ve wanted this for so long, but the guilt is suffocating, and the reality of what you’re about to do hits you like a tidal wave.

“We can’t keep doing this behind his back,” you say, your voice shaking. “What happens if he finds out?”

Matt exhales sharply, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly. “But I know that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you. I can’t ignore what’s between us anymore.”

You pull back slightly, looking at him, your hands trembling as you rest them on his chest. You want to lean in again, feel his lips against yours again, but the weight of the situation is heavy, too heavy to ignore.

Matt’s hand slides down your arm, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “You’re not going to hurt him. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know that right now, in this moment, all I can think about is you.”

He leans in again, his lips barely grazing yours. “I don’t care what happens next,” he says softly, his voice a low rasp. “I just know that I need you. And I don’t want to let go of this… of us.”

You can’t deny it any longer. You want him.

“Fuck it.” You smash your lips to his once more, your body needing to taste him again, craving him. At first, it was soft, sweet, gentle. It then turned to a hot and rough kiss, as if you guys were making out to make up for all these years your feelings have been bottled in. He opens his mouth and lets his tongue explore yours, fighting for dominance.

Was it wrong?

Yes.

Did you care?

Fuck no. 

You feel Matt’s hands start to roam your body and you can’t help but feel a sensation starting to tingle down there. Matt groans into your mouth, begging to taste more. You loved the way his lips worked perfectly with yours, soft and pillowy. You make out for what feels like hours before you pull back from the kiss, panting, lips red and swollen. 

“Bedroom. Now” You demand. 

Without saying anything, Matt scoops you up and you straddle your legs around his waist and wrap your hands around his neck, never breaking eye contact. As you guys walk to his bedroom, Matt looks like he could float, lust dancing in his eyes. 

“You don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” He’s lost in your eyes, drunk off your taste. He needed more. 

Matt plops you down onto his bed and you feel his hands start to roam your body. “Matt..” You whisper. “I need you.” You reach the bottom of his shirt and he guides your hands to slowly take it off of him. You run your fingers through his toned abs. “Oh my god, y/n.” You glance at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. His hands continue to explore your body as he starts to kiss your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the sensitive skin, admiring the purple marks he’s claiming you with. 

“Fuck, Matt, your hands feel so good.” 

“Wanna see what else my hands can do?”

Your pussy immediately throbs at his dirty words. You slowly and sensually take your shirt off to reveal your perfectly round tits. Matt might actually pass out from how good you look. His hands find the waistband of your shorts to pull it down, cold air hitting your barely covered core. Matt stares at your lacy blue thong, licking his lips as he admires how your juices glisten in the low light. He pulls your thong to the side, hooking it with his middle finger, muttering about how wet you were for him.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, princess.”

You practically moan just from his words as he licks your aching centre, finally getting the taste he’s been wanting. You gasp from the sudden warmth of his tongue on you. “You taste so good, my love.” He then latches his lips on your clit and begins to suck lightly.

“Fuck, Matt.” You cry out, your hips starting to jolt. Your hands find his hair as you pull on his messy locks. He moans against your pussy, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure all throughout your body. Matt then slides his lanky fingers easily into core, pumping fast as his tongue continues to work magic on your bud. Your eyes roll back in your head when a familiar feeling starts to grow in your stomach as your first orgasm of the night quickly approaches.

“Matt- I’m gonna-”

Just as you speak, the band in your stomach snaps as you cum, profanities mixed with Matt’s name slipping from your mouth. Matt’s cock twitches in his pants, begging to be released as the beautiful sounds you were making was torture, not being able to be inside of you. Matt continues to fuck you with his fingers as he laps up all of your release, wiping his mouth clean. 

He climbs on top of you, attaching his lips to yours, giving you both a break before he fucks your brains out. You taste yourself on his tongue as you moan into his mouth. He begins to mark the other side of your neck with hickies as he whispers into your ear,

“I need to feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me, baby.” 

Yet again, you moan at his words, your pussy still throbbing from the previous orgasm. Matt rushes to take his sweatpants off and his pre-cum stained boxers while you slide your thong down your legs and off of you. You watch as Matt’s cock springs out of his boxers and your jaw drops at his length.

“Holy shit, Matt, if I knew you were packing so much, I would’ve wanted you to fuck me much earlier.”

He scoffs, “When have you ever not wanted me to fuck you, y/n.”

You giggle softly cause you know it’s true. You’ve been dreaming about this since the day you laid eyes on Matt. 

And now it’s finally about to happen.

Your thoughts are interrupted as Matt slams his length into your tight pussy. You scream as Matt bottoms out, thrusting himself in and out of you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. You like the way I’m stretching your pussy out, don’t you, princess?”

Your brain is too fucked out to think of a response other than letting out a pornographic moan. Matt groans with each thrust into you and your vision starts to turn blurry as you feel your second orgasm of the night approaching. 

“You take my cock so well, sweetheart.”

Matt’s tip hits your spongy g-spot each time he pulls in and out of your sopping core and that’s all it takes before your legs begin to shake, back starts to arch, and you begin to moan louder.

“Fuck, Matt! So good- I’m close...” You cry out.

“Oh yeah? You gonna cum for me, princess? C’mon. Cum all over this cock.”

Matt feels your pussy tighten around him as your second orgasm hits you like a truck. Matt continues to fuck you through your high, feeling his climax quickly creeping up on him. 

“Shit, gonna cum.” He manages to say before asking the question of the night.

“Where do you want me, baby?” 

“Fill me up Matt. I need you. All of you.”

You feel Matt’s cock twitch as hot ropes of cum shoot inside of you, filling you up, as you wanted. Matt’s groans as he milks himself dry. He plops down beside you, both of you fucked out, panting. 

“That was-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence because the sound of the chime indicating that the front door was opening…

There’s no way

“Matt? I’m home!!” 

Nick. He’s home.

You and Matt whip your head towards the open bedroom door as you hear footsteps coming upstairs. 

Shit.

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

a/n: yall want a part 2?? OMG WHY WAS THAT SO FUCKING HARD TO WRITE well thats my first fic for yall hope you guys enjoyed!!

[wonusdoll]

FLOWERS • PJS

Synopsis: Jisungs a hopeless romantic and gets jealous easily

Content: fluff! cavity inducing fluff so fluffy i wanna cry

pairing: Childhood Bestfriend!Jisung x reader

notes+ WHY DOES NOBODY WRITE FOR JISUNGGGG i had to take matters into my own hands so here you go :D this was originally gonna contain smut but i couldnt help myself with the fluff anyways, enjoy!!

You and Jisung weren't always friends. When your mom introduced her best friends second grader son, 4th grade you didn't mind. Until he started playing with your stuff, jumping on your bed, stealing your snacks, and blaming you on things he did and getting you in trouble.

Naturally, you started resenting him, dreading when he would come over, and chose to ignore him at school, finding it embarrassing whenever he would go over to you and your friends at the playground and ask to play with them. your friends found him cute, but you, you hated him.

Going into your middle school years, he slowly got more tolerable. He started understanding boundaries but still was the same annoying little kid.

In some point of time, Jisung turned from an annoying little kid who yelled and cried all the time to one of your closest friends. And then when he finally started high school, you guys started hanging out willingly, without his mom forcing him to go over.

Some days you would catch him in your living room watching tv with your dog, or accidentally walking in on him showering in your bathroom, or in your kitchen making ramen. Sometimes he would bring his friends over to your house. You honestly didn't mind that much as long as they never broke anything, or disturbed her in any way, which jisung made sure never happened.

"Jisung?? That you??" You yelled from the top of the stairs after hearing feet shuffling and the front door opening and closing. The two of you made plans to watch horror movies and have a sleepover to celebrate the new season of autumn.

"Nope!" Jisung yelled back, making you go downstairs with a grin. But you immediately furrowed your brows and bit your inner cheek, upon seeing 6 other people. you knew them, jisung would bring them around sometimes but you didn’t know them.

"Jisung, whats going on?"

He grinned annoyingly cutely back and held up some convenience store bags up and nodded towards his friends, "They wanted to hang out but my mom banned us from the house after last time.”

You scoff and look at him like he was crazy, "What- are you kidding me?" You say just above a whisper, flickering your eyes between him and the guys behind him, "I thought we were gonna hang out?? You didn't even ask if it was okay to bring them over? if you wanted to hang out with them instead you should've just told me."

With a smirk, jisung was much closer than you remember him being, he tucked a few stray strands of your hand back, "I'm sorry princess i should have asked, hm? If we're too much of a bother we'll quiet down okay?" He pulled away and looked into your eyes, pleading and begging for uou to say yes.

You mask your flustered state with a sigh and wiping your face with your hand as if annoyed.

"Fine, whatever, just— leave me alone im gonna go study" you warn making him grin and ruffle your hair, juxtaposing his previous act. He's called you princess numerous times before, even when you guys were kids but in that tone, that voice, and devilish smile, it felt different.

You wanted to tell him off for joking around with you like that, making you feel that way. It was something you always felt around him but maybe it was his perfectly messy hair, his oversized hoodie making him look so comfy, his soft plump lips, or his hand in your hair, or the name he called you, but the feeling became overwhelmingly strong, like when a candles been burning for hours and slowly the fire grows bigger and it fills the whole room with its pleasant fumes.

You hung around with them for a bit when you took a break from studying because you couldn't focus. but the reason you couldnt focus was sitting right across from you on the couch, sending lingering glances everybody noticed.

When he catches your gaze you turn away with a light blush but when you catch his, he doesnt shy away, keeping eye contact with you with a look in his eye that you couldnt read for the first time.

In the time you got to formally meet his best friends, you surprisingly got along with all of them. Huang Renjun was the one who stuck out the most out of the 7, other than Jisung who kept eyes on you the whole time.

You got to have a one on one conversation with Renjun about each others favorite music artists, which were quite similar, and art itself. You were already interested in art but with the knowledge and story telling Renjun excitedly provided made you want to learn more. So you guys planned a hang out the next day to an art museum Renjun was fond and familiar with. 

You posted the day out with him on your story with Art Deco - Lana Del Rey in the background.

Jisung always made sure to heart and reply to your story even if it was as simple as an ootd, but this time he didn't. You furrowed your brows and looked at the views and there he was, also active. You tried texting him regularly but you were left on delivered until 7 hours later but all you got was a

"sorry lol"

It hurt your feelings, you couldn't lie. So you texted him again not even 5 seconds later.

"too busy being active to answer? lmfao"

He leaves it on read for a few minutes before replying

"too busy hanging out with renjun? yk we all made plans tgt”

You scoff at his attitude

"whats your problem?? it was HIS choice to hang out with ME. not like you wanted to."

"chill out i just wanted them to meet you, didn't know you were gonna be all over them tho"

"fuck you."

You threw your phone at the end of the bed and hug your pillow against your chest as tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't know why you were so affected by his words, usually you wouldn't even press him so much about not answering, and would just leave him alone but seeing him be so uninterested left a mark on you.

A few nights later you were watching a scary movie in the darkness of your living room when you heard knocks on your front door. you paused the movie to make sure it wasn't from the tv, and when they come again, you look at the time.

"Who's here at 11:30 at night" You whisper to yourself and cautiously approach the door.

Thunder suddenly struck making you whimper and jump back, but you decide to just rip the bandaid off, after all horror movies aren't real right?

"Jisung?!" You exclaim, seeing him standing there out in the pouring rain with his head down ashamed.

"Hey.."

You quickly let him in, taking his soaked coat off and telling him to wait while you get a towel.

He was silent while you scolded him for being out in the rain so late without so much as an umbrella.

He finally brung his hands from behind his back, revealing your favorite flowers in an articulated assorted bouquet wrapped in paper.

"Sorry if they're kind of ruined.. I ran all the way here" He sniffles and scratched his nape awkwardly.

You bite your lip remembering your last interaction, "You wanna tell me why?"

"I'm sorry y/n im so sorry im such a fucking loser and a coward for getting mad at you  I never wanted to hurt you i just was so angry that you hung out with Renjun that i took it out on you without thinking and ive been trying to figure out how to apologize to you so i went to the flower shop like 10 times in the past 2 days because i wanted to get you flowers but you have 5 different favorite flowers so i got 5 different bouquets for you then realized that was too much so i just got one with 2 of your favorites but felt bad that i left out the other 3 so i got another one with all of them but they didn't look good so i spent the whole day learning how to make a bouquet to make it perfect for you then realized it was already night and thundering and you hate thunder so i ran all the way here and now they look horrible and ugly and-"

"JISUNG." You put a stop to his rant with a chuckle and put your hands on his pink dusted cheeks. He pants out and looks in your eyes to find any anger or disgust in them but you were smiling, "Hey its okay, i promise its okay," You take the flowers from his hands and bring them up to your face to smell them, "they're beautiful ji, seriously."

He takes another pan over your face to scan your expression to really make sure you weren't mad and one he realized that, he lets out the breath he was holding and chuckles, then laughs a bit harder.

You laugh along with him then card your fingers through his wet hair, "Did you really learn how to make a bouquet of flowers for me? And run all the way here in the rain?" You ask, softly now.

He smiles and takes your hand away to hold it instead, "Yeah.. you know i would swim across the whole ocean just to get these to you. Also whats wrong with learning a new skill, i always wanted to learn how to.. make assorted flowers.." He dryly chuckles at the end.

you could hear your heart thumping out of your chest when you feel the pressure of his eyes staring into your own, as if trying to answer a question he hasn't asked. so you ask your own.

"Jisung," You start making him nod, "Why were you so upset?" You ask, making you swallow thickly.

and suddenly you're hyper aware of everything going on, your breathing, your blinking, the rain and thunder, his facial expressions, his thumb caressing your hand.

Jisung doesnt answer for a second, trying to find the right words. His mouth was drying up, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out so he gulped.

He was now holding your hand with both of his hands, "I love you." he blurted, "I love you and Im selfish and only want you to myself, I just wanted to treasure you for my myself and not let other people see how amazing and perfect you are because i was scared you'd fall for them and forget about me so when i saw you were with renjun and saw how excited you were to talk to him and hang out with him i felt.. rejected? in a way? like he had something i didn't to make you feel that way. So i was sad and upset and jealous— god, i was so unbelievably jealous, and i know im not allowed to because we're only best friends and you're allowed to be friends and talk to anybody you want to but i just- i just didn't want you to notice anyone else, and leave me.."

He ended his rant with a sigh and closed his eyes shut, mentally preparing for you to laugh in his face and friend-zone him, but it never came.

When he opened his eyes you were just standing there, not saying anything, with a smile on your face.

You giggled as he looked at you with an expectant look.

“Okay.”

His brows furrowed and his hand started slipping from yours “That- thats it? Just okay? You couldn’t have let me down any better-“

“Okay, I wont leave you.”

His expression softened, watching as you laughed and hugged him tightly, burying your face in his chest, “Jisung park, I will never leave you and you can never leave me, if you do i’ll have to kill you.” You tried to threaten him but he just found you adorable, and picked you up in his arms.

You guys laughter filled the room, bouncing around the rooms, sounding almost louder than the rain and thunder.

Suddenly, your enemy turned into your bestfriend who turned into your lover. And you couldn’t have it any other way.

[raapija]

hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

¬

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

[f4ll-for-you]

Wanna Be Yours | Modern Aemond AU

Aemond x Best Friend Reader

Warnings: literally just fluff, Aegon being Aegon

As always, thank you to my bestie @arcielee for beta reading this for me. You are the best & ilysm

Aemond, the cool, mysterious guy on campus, completely different from his loud and obnoxious brother, Aegon. Aemond's not shy, but he isn't talkative either, only making the conversation needed, never going out of his way to make small talk.

That’s how he became your best friend, sitting together in the library, enjoying the comfortable silence. 

You’d occasionally help each other with essays, as you’d both realised after a few months that you took similar classes, they just happened to be at different times due to Aemond being the year below you. 

You’d know of him for a while, often crossing paths with his annoying - but ridiculously hot, frat boy brother Aegon, who’d taken the same photography class as you. 

The pair of you bonded over your mutual dislike for Aegon and his lifestyle. Distancing yourself from the party side of campus and enjoying the peace and quiet of the library on a Saturday evening. 

That was until your friend Baela convinced you to go to the end of term frat party, begging you to keep her company. She wasn’t much of a party girl either, but apparently missing the ‘party of the year’ was a disgrace. 

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly agreed, dragging Aemond along with you for support. At least you’d be miserable together. 

Upon arriving, you instantly regret your decision. The house was packed and your anxiety through the roof. You didn’t know these people, and from the events in front of you, you didn’t want to. 

Everyone had clearly been drinking for hours before you got there. 

Forcing your worry at bay, you grabbed Aemond’s hand and made your way towards the kitchen for drinks, losing Baela to her long term crush Jace on the way. You rolled your eyes at Aemond who smiled back. “Are you really surprised?” He spoke, smirking. You shook your head in response, making your way into the kitchen. 

The smell of alcohol hit your senses as you walked into the room, various concoctions abandoned over every counter. “You came!” A voice you both knew all too well bellowing behind you. Now it was Aemonds turn to roll his eyes. 

“Aegon,” Aemond responded to his brother grumpily. 

“Let me make you some drinks,” Aegon grabbed two red cups before you could refuse. Aemond sighed, already planning to pour whatever Aegon would make down the sink as soon as he was out of sight. 

“Looking good tonight Y/N,” Aegon smiled, making you blush heavily. 

“Not too bad yourself, Targaryen,” you replied, making Aemond want to throw up in his mouth. 

Although you’d always thought Aegon attractive, Aemond was the brother you’d fallen for. Not that you’d ever admit that. 

Aegon handed you a shot each, grinning with already hazy eyes. 

“Fuck it,” you spoke as you downed your shot, wincing at the burn in your throat. 

Several shots later, you began to feel the buzz of alcohol settling in as you took in Aemond’s features. 

You couldn’t help but stare as the alcohol pushed away your previous anxieties, Aemond’s lips looking all too inviting. 

“Hopefully that will give you some confidence with your girl, brother,” Aegon teased, making Aemond glare at him. 

Your face immediately went red, staring at Aegon like a deer in headlights. Aegon looked at you, confused for a moment. “What, you mean she really doesn’t know?”

“Aegon,” Aemond warned his brother, anger filling his eyes. 

“Wow, guess she’s free then, I don’t have to worry about doing this” Aegon retorted, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Aemond before you could register what was happening. 

You held Aegon's hand as he walked you through the party, with everyone’s eyes on you and the frat king. 

Registering what had happened, you pulled your hand away from Aegon’s angrily. “Aegon, what the fuck,” you shouted, your outburst causing more people to stare. 

“Shut up and come with me okay” he spoke, grabbing your hand once more. “I’m doing you a favour.” 

You looked confused but followed along with whatever plan Aegon had, the shots clearly clouding your judgment. 

Within a few moments you were on a quiet deck at the back of the house, free from loud music and drunk college students. 

“Aegon, what was that,” you demanded as he flopped down on an outdoor sofa. 

“You don’t know?” He questioned, clearly amused by your confusion. 

“Enlighten me,” you sat down next to him. 

“My brother has been in love with you for as long as he’s known you.” 

Your cheeks instantly heat up at Aegon's words. Shaking your head involuntarily. “No he doesn’t, we’re friends, best friends,” you insisted.

Aegon laughed unkindly. 

“Y/N, the way my brother looks at you does not imply he sees you as ‘just friends’,” Aegon states, almost spilling his drinks at the air quotes he imitates. 

“Then why wouldn’t he tell me,” you almost whisper. You feel confused, embarrassed that you didn’t notice all this time. 

“Because…he’s a pussy,” Aegon spoke nonchalantly, making you hit him gently. 

“Wait, if he likes me, why are you making him think we’re getting together right now?” 

Aegon only shakes his head in response, disappointed at your naïveté. 

“I’m making him jealous,” Aegon looks directly at you, “it’s the only way he’ll confess his true feelings.”

Instead, you stand up to find Aemond, to apologise to him for everything, for making him think that you’d choose his brother over him.

“Wait,” Aegon pulls your arm. “Give it a couple more minutes, you need to get him really riled up, trust me.”

You sit in silence with Aegon, watching the clock on your phone as you wait. 

“I’m going,” you state after five minutes. Aegon only smiles. “See ya sister-in-law,” he shouts as you walk away. 

It takes several minutes before you locate Aemond. He left the messy, people covered house, and was sitting on the curb outside. 

“Aem,” you try to shout, suddenly feeling awkward about the situation. 

Aemond turns around immediately at the sound of your voice, standing up from his seat on the pavement. 

You look beautiful, your dress showing your figure perfectly, your hair cascading down your shoulders. 

Your eyes light up from the glow of the party indoors and he wonders why he hasn’t done this sooner.

He walks towards you quickly, meeting you in the middle of the driveway as he immediately cups your face, taking a moment to look into your eyes before crashing his lips into yours. 

You immediately mould into him, the taste of sweet alcohol on his lips and you can’t help but smile into the kiss. 

The pair of you pull away for a second, both grinning. You don’t need to speak, your eyes say everything you both feel. 

“He’s still a twat,” Aemond breaks the silence, the smile not leaving his face. 

“Yeah, but I guess he was right just this once,” you reply.

“Let’s go home,” Aemond says, before taking your hand in his.

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark: Chapter Four - Code Name, Farrah Fawcett

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Chapter three: Fearless

Ao3 link

---

“Never?” Dustin asked, his muffled squeal cutting through the quiet atmosphere in the study desk buried in the corner of the library, behind the physics and math section. “Not even once, not at all?”

Rose shrank away from the harsh stare of the librarian, whispering over the pages of the book. “Nope. Never heard of him.”

“Al Yankovic,” Dustin said, like he was talking about the President or the bloody Queen. “Weird Al. My Bologna, Another One Rides the Bus....Eat It? Seriously ? I thought you had MTV.”

“Sorry,” Rose said apologetically. “Is he funny?”

Dustin took off his cap and ran his hand through his curly hair; a memory from Monday made her own head tingle in sympathy the near scalping by Eddie, his rings intruding on what might have been a very romantic moment. Focus, McAllister.

“Uh, does a black hole emit Hawking radiation?” Dustin asked, completely confident in his own knowledge on the subject.

“Yes?” Rose bit her lip, trying to recall. “I take chem and biology though, not physics.”

Dustin’s mouth gaped open, braces glistening in the overhead fluorescent lights. He was weirdly charming. Something about him reminded her of Eddie. “Well, you should listen to his songs. His videos are hilarious too. Me and the guys, we laughed so hard when we heard I Love Rocky Road, it’s the best. Lucas pretends he’s too cool for it, but I see him trying to hold back his laughter. He can’t fool me.”

“Dustin,” she asked tentatively, chewing on the end of her pencil. “How did you get into D&D?”

His eyes brightened at her genuine interest and wondered how many people truly got to know the quirky kid, beyond his immediate friendship group. “Will and MIke were huge on it. They were best friends with Lucas since the first year of kindergarten, but I didn’t move to Hawkins until fourth grade. It was kinda hard for me to make friends. Zach was bullying me a lot, and he...” he trailed off, his mouth pressed in a thin line, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. “He, uh, kicked the crap outta me in the boys bathrooms, so I was upset, and Will came up to me and asked me if I wanted to be a magical spellcaster, and kick the ass of an ogre. And it was kind of awesome , and then we became friends.”

“I can’t even imagine the other guys without you,” she said, nudging his shoulder. “You’re like the heart of the group, and the brain too. Possibly the guts and the spine, and the funny bone. You’re all the good bits. But don’t tell them I said that.”

Dustin ducked his head and almost blushed, smiling like a goon. “I don’t know.”

“Well it looks like it to me,” Rose reassured him. 

He scoffed and waved away her compliment, with a weird little squeal that she found incredibly endearing. 

She was surprised to hear Dustin was the newest in the little friendship group. Where he went, Mike usually followed, and whilst Lucas seemed to be torn between Hellfire and basketball, he had an easy familiarity around the other two that spoke of long years of friendship and growing up with an unshakeable bond. Rose was fascinated by the way they understood each other's jokes and communicated without words. Envy burned in the back of her throat, for she saw in the freshmen boys what she had always longed for; someone who had seen you at your very best and worst, and who stood by you anyway.

It might be too late for Rose, but on the bright side, she wasn’t exactly alone, either. Dustin had been so thrilled at the prospect of helping her build a character that she couldn’t refuse his help, particularly when she knew so little about Dungeons and Dragons and the mechanics of the game. He was giving up his Friday lunch to help her.

Beyond that, the Hellfire guys said hello to her in the hallway, and welcomed her to the group. Tuesday and Thursday of this first full week at school had seen her at Hellfire’s lunch table; the first day, she was the complete focus of the lunch hour, much to her embarrassment. They peppered her with questions and stared at her until Eddie had to call them to order, requesting they back off and leave the lady alone. By Thursday, after she spent Wednesday hanging out with Robin, the Hellfire boys seemed to regard her as a permanent fixture, a piece of the furniture when she sat down at the table. Except for the pestering about her character, and harassing Eddie about tonight's campaign, of course. 

And Robin too, she was becoming a friend. She was going through a difficult time, clearly affected by the fire that killed so many people over the summer, finding it difficult to engage with her old friends after being right there during the tragedy. Rose could understand to some degree, she found it hard to carry on with old friendships after her illness. In a way, they could start fresh, a friendship with no before mall fire or before her surgery clouding the view of who they were right now.

Then there was their dungeon master, the leader, the glue of the club. The reason for her heart skipping a beat as she arrived at school each morning, searching for a telltale Chevy van or a big mane of frizzy hair, leather and denim. Her eyes scanning the parking lot, the hallway, or anywhere at all, really. The reason she lay listening to metal songs deep into the night, curled up in the window seat of her attic, examining every interaction, every glance and touch over the last week, trying to kid herself that it was just a new friendship, not getting her hopes up in case it was some kind of mistake, or he acted like this around every girl at school. But if she had any hope of concentrating she had to nip any thoughts of Eddie in the bud.

She turned to the sheets of paper on the study desk, her pencil twirling idly and drawing out a little flower-shaped spiral in the corner of the page. A character sheet, a chance to impress Hellfire tonight, and not appear like a silly, frivolous new girl with no clue what she was doing.

“Dustin,” Rose sighed. “I feel like i’m missing so much of Ceverra’s backstory. Yes, I was a noblewoman studying arcane magics at the Citadel, but what made me turn to necromancy?”

“Curiosity?”

“Maybe,” she hummed. “But the arc and the character have to be entwined, one feeds the other. You don’t just wake up one day and decide to raise the dead, you have to have a horrific reason...there has to be foreshadowing in her story. Maybe once we realise her backstory, we’ll work out why she’s here.”

“There’s an element of randomness to D&D play,” Dustin warned. “No one can predict the dice.”

“I still think she should have a good motivation. Something I can pull out when we get to the final villain in the campaign. A clue in her past, something hidden there all along that explains why she raises the dead.”

Dustin flipped through the pages of his Dungeon Master’s manual, one he explained belonged to his friend Will, who had just moved to California. He’d left behind his D&D books so they could play together when he came home for the holidays. The pages were weathered and dogeared, like they’d been used and loved for years. It brought a smile to Rose’s face; she too preferred her books that way. Lived in.

“Maybe we can find a magical reason, something happened to you as you studied to be a cleric,” Dustin rambled, concentrating on the pages.

“No,” Rose said. “It had to be a human reason, something tragic. I think...I think she lost her family. They were drained of life by a cult of warlocks or something, whilst she was away at the Citadel, and when she returned she found them all dead. She wasn’t there to protect her mother and father, and a sibling, a little sister maybe, so she turned to the dark arts. But it's doomed, because if she succeeds in raising her family, she will have become the thing they hate. In raising them, she kills herself, the Ceverra they loved. She turns to her old companions from the Citadel, including your bard and Jeff’s spellcaster, to aid her in finding an artefact she needs to raise her family. And gets drawn into whatever Eddie’s campaign is, before she can cross over that line and become a soulless lich. A last chance for redemption before she goes full chaotic-evil.”

“Shit,” Dustin snapped up. “That’s good. I think it works. Deeply personal motive, check. Dark magics, check. Reason for your joining the party, check. I think we have it, Lady Ceverra. We just need to determine how to spread your 27 ability points. You want three high abilities, three low. For a cleric, I recommend focusing on Wisdom and Intelligence. Plus, it kinda suits you!”

“I trust you, Dustin. Wisdom and Intelligence it is.”

He handed Rose the open book, and she searched the page, fingers tracing the scoring system; she made some notes and began to add some scores to her sheet. After ten minutes of diligent work, she handed him the character sheet; it felt like returning homework, except she suddenly cared for Dustin’s opinion more than any teacher, desperate for some kind of approval. She knew the kid was a genius, she knew he was Eddie’s protege, and somehow Robin knew him. All her favourite people seemed to regard Dustin highly. 

He leaned back in the chair, his Hellfire shirt barely visible under a brightly striped baseball-style short sleeved shirt, covered in some kind of novelty mathematical equation - probably a real one knowing Dustin - with a green Camp Nowhere badge newly sewn into the hem. It almost reminded Rose of Eddie’s battle vest, and she smiled like an idiot. Dustin idolised Eddie, she could see it in the way he deferred to the leader of their group, and copied some of his mannerisms subconsciously. 

“Okay, okay,” Dustin said positively, scanning the sheet. “The stats pass muster. I think this is gonna work. And the backstory kicks ass, like, you should be a writer.”

Rose felt herself smiling, and babbled dismissively. “Oh, I don’t know. I would like to study English Literature at university though. Maybe not cut out to be a full-blown author though...”

“That is so cool,” he said, head propped up on his elbow. “I’ve always been more of a math and science kind of man, but you’re a whole different kind of smart. Where do you wanna go to college?”

“I don’t know,” Rose faltered, making a strangled noise in her throat. She’d been so focused on achieving one single full year of school, one year with friends and normal teen experiences, that she’d put off thoughts of university. “I suppose i’d always imagined going back home, probably to London. Beyond that, i’ve not thought about it.”

“Well, you have plenty of time,” Dustin said comfortingly. “Probably two whole months, right? That’s if the application process is the same as here.”

Rose swallowed down her terror and turned back to the character sheet, where a large gap was left at the top. “Gareth is going to draw my character in art class today. He thinks the teacher won’t mind because he’s finished his assignment already. That way, it's ready for Hellfire tonight.”

Dustin looked at the sheet, with her neat, calligraphic script, his direction and shaping, and a space for Gareth’s impressive drawings. “You’re really going all out on this, huh. Eddie is going to lose his shit tonight, he’ll love it.”

“I hope so,” she said, trying to contain a gleeful grin. Since Monday’s beautiful, disastrous near-kiss, she hadn’t been fully alone with him. The closest was those two whole lunch hours at the Hellfire table, Eddie saving a seat next to him and pulling it out like a true gentleman, each of them sneaking dreamy-eyed glances at the other, careful not to be caught staring for too long. It was like a game of tag, a thrill of electricity each time they made eye contact.

White noise crackled in the quiet of the library, a muffled sound of something electronic, like white noise from a radio. Then out of the noise came a single word.

“Dustin?”

Rose went still, trying to locate the noise, but Dustin exploded into action,ducking under the table to get to his backpack, knocking over all his stuff in the process.

“ Is this thing even on? God, this is so stupid. Dustin, if you’re hearing this, it’s Steve. We have a code red. I repeat, a code red.”

“Shit,” Dustin hissed, fumbling about with his bag. He’d dropped to all fours on the beige floral carpet of the library, eyes sweeping the room for anyone watching: all clear, the place was quiet at the end of lunch, no one in their right mind would sacrifice their free period for more time around books. Except Rose and Dustin, clearly.

He retrieved a brick-sized hunk of plastic and metal from his bag, a walkie-talkie, pulling out a foot-long metal antenna from the top.

Dustin pressed down the walkie’s button, putting the mouthpiece close to his face. “This is Gold Leader. State your code red. And by the way, I told you, code names only . Also, you should bear in mind i’m in earshot of a civilian. Over.”

The combination of Dustin’s deadly serious demeanour, and his position on his knees by the library table clutching a walkie-talkie was so funny, she could almost laugh. But she really, really wanted to hear what he was saying, so leaned forward over the pencils and D&D handbooks, quiet as a mouse and straining to hear.

“Come on, not the code name. Seriously?”

“I’m deadly serious. And we spoke about this, you have to end with over . Over.”

The crackling went on for a couple of seconds, before a defeated voice came out again. “This is Farrah Fawcett, reporting a code red. There, you happy? Uh, over, or whatever.”

“I acknowledge your call sign, Farrah Fawcett. What is your code red? Does it involve any encrypted messages in other languages? Over.”

Encrypted messages? Rose was clueless, but already hooked. 

“No, Dus- I mean, Gold Leader. So Keith is busting my ass again. He says if I can’t work out which section of the video store to shelve This is Spinal Tap, i’m fired. He is so unreasonable! Over.”

Dustin growled. “We talked about this Farah Fawcett, this is not a code red. A code red is a life-threatening emergency. Or at least something that involves being so grounded that I won’t see daylight until i’m in college. Please keep this channel of communication open for genuine emergencies. Over and out.”

“Dustin, he’s gonna fire me! My dad is going to kick me out of the pool house, and then i’ll have to move in with my Aunt Josephine in Cincinnati. Is that code red enough for you, huh? No more rides to the arcade, no more free popcorn or videos, no more babysitting duties. Do you want me to suffer? Do you want Robin to suffer?”

Dustin made eye contact with Rose and shook his head, like he was forty, not fourteen, and the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Okay, message received. What was the name of the tape again?”

“Thank god. It’s called This is Spinal Tap, which is some British rock band, apparently. Cover’s got these guys with huge hair and guitars on it. I don’t know if I should put it in the documentary section, or the music section. He’s back in two minutes, so I need an answer, like, now. Over.”

“Oh shit,” Dustin said, his finger still pressed on the walkie. “My mom won’t let me see those kind of movies, Steve. But it's not like a music video, it's a documentary, right? Over.”

“You’re not filling me with confidence, Gold Leader. Should I go with Documentary?”

Rose scooted further over the table, into Dustin’s view. “Dustin, I know this one. I know it!”

“Wait, who is that?” The mysterious Farrah Fawcett - slash Steve - asked quickly.

“I’m with a girl, I mean a lady . Hold on a second Steve. Over,” Dustin looked up at Rose, eyes hopeful. He let go of the walkie and spoke privately to her for a second. “What should it be?”

“A lady? Hey, Robin doesn’t count you know. It’s Nancy isn’t it. Or maybe not, it’s Homecoming and she’s gonna be slammed with the committee today. Come on, Dustin, who is it? Is she pretty?”

Rose ignored the voice, thinking back to Monday. “It’s one of Eddie’s favourite movies. It’s a documentary, but a fake one. There’s no such band as Spinal Tap. Eddie said it was so funny he nearly pissed himself!”

“Huh,” Dustin replied, taking off his cap and mopping his brow. “He told you that? Jesus, that’s kind of personal. So it’s a comedy then?”

“Definitely,” Rose nodded wildly.

“Okay, but if you’re wrong, Steve and Robin are never gonna let me hear the end of it.”

She sat back, completely confused. Robin? What did Robin have to do with this?

Dustin turned back to the walkie. “I’ve conferred with my study buddy Lady Thorn, and can confirm the tape should be shelved in comedy. I repeat, comedy . Over.”

The static crackled. “Really? It doesn’t look funny. ”

“Just do it, Steve. I’ve gotta go, I think we’re attracting attention from hostile actors. This is Gold Leader, over and out.” He switched off the talkie, and sagged with relief, collapsing the antenna with a slap of his hand and stuffing it back in the backpack.

Rose sat back on the chair, mouth agape. “Hostile actors?”

“The librarian is giving me the side-eye,” Dustin explained, pointing subtly toward the desk, at the far end of the stacks. “I think she’s gonna kick us out.”

“Ms Miller likes me,” Rose assured him, returning to a whisper, just in case. “She’s obsessed with romantic English Literature, and I gave her my copy of an Elizabeth Gaskell book she’d never read before. She thought Mr Rochester was the pinnacle of a brooding gentleman? Oh ho, she’s yet to meet Mr Thornton. She’ll be swooning for days. No way she’ll kick us out.”

Dustin was bright-eyed as a puppy. “You really are a nerd, aren’t you.”

Rose snorted. “I thought that was clear already. Wait, you’re not getting away that easily. Who on earth was that? Is he your older brother?”

“Steve?” Dustin’s voice was so far it went into the stratosphere. He slapped his knee, laughing. “I'm so going to tell him you thought we were brothers. You know, we do both have fantastic hair. Maybe long lost cousins or something. No, Steve is a...friend, slash babysitter? It’s hard to capture with words. There’s nobody like him.”

“And you just go around with a walkie talkie, on the off chance you want to speak to this babysitter slash friend,” Rose said, suspicion creeping into her voice. 

“Sure. People do that, all the time. It’s really common in Indiana. Who needs a payphone when you’ve got a personal walkie? That’s free! Cause then you don’t need a whole stack of quarters,” Dustin shrugged his arms. “What? It’s practical!”

His voice went higher with each statement, until Rose knew he was covering something up. What an odd kid. 

“Right,” Rose narrowed her eyes. “If I didn’t have to get to class, I'd have a few more questions for you. But it's your lucky day.”

They got up from the study desk at the back of the library and slung on their bags, Rose carefully stowing away the character sheet between the pages of her math textbook as they swung open the library door, entering the hallway with its aura of enforced cheer, balloons and all sorts of glitter-laden signs announcing Homecoming! as if anyone in this school could forget it. Everyone congregated in the hallways, gossip and buzz in overdrive, like they could already taste the sugary-sweet tropical punch, feel the air thick with Aqua Net and cheap cologne, and  hear Indiana’s most middling DJ blaring out school-approved pop and light rock, a tepid beat that would fill the auditorium in just a few hours time.

They turned a corner and were met head on with a wobbling tower of boxes, shiny silver streamers spilling out the top.

”Excuse me, coming through,” a voice called out, muffled behind the decorations. 

“Hey Nance, hold on a minute,” Dustin leapt forward and took the top one, pulling it away and revealing a very frazzled Nancy Wheeler with bloodshot eyes and a don't-cross-me kind of glare.

Rose felt guilty for standing unencumbered whilst they carried heavy loads of decorations, so she followed them, running forward and opening the double doors to let them into the auditorium.

“Thank you guys,” Nancy said breathlessly, stacking them on a table and directing Dustin to do the same. “I would have collapsed in the hallway without you. Wait, Rose? I haven’t seen you since last Friday, I was going to check up on your first week but you’ve been a hard woman to find. I checked the cafeteria but you weren’t there.”

“That’s nice of you. I was a little busy today, Dustin was helping with a project in the library.”

Nancy’s face screwed up. “Dustin? Well he is a great tutor, he was always the best at math and science, better than Mike, but don’t tell him that.”

Dustin looked smug. “Mike’s known since the seventh grade, that secret is out. But it wasn’t math or science, it was something a little more fantastical , if you get my drift.”

Nancy looked between them, realisation coming to her at last. “Oh my god, did he rope you into Dungeons and Dragons? Just remember those sessions go on for hours . Sometimes the whole day. And I would get so tired my eyes would blur, and I couldn't even see the dice anymore.”

“Amateur,” Dustin said under his breath. “And it was not I that did the roping. It was Eddie.”

“Munson?” She asked, confused. “Isn’t he a little...aggressive?”

“Not at all,” Rose said immediately. “Not even a little bit.”

She could only picture Eddie smiling; slow, creeping smiles that turned up his lips and lit up his onyx eyes; wide, manic grins that cried out joy and enthusiasm; and those smiles that were infectious, laughing wholeheartedly at Dustin or Gareth’s antics. The way he held her hand in the woods, gripping it like she could possibly let him go. The way he cradled her cheek, like she was made of fragile glass. How in the nine hells of Asmodeus could Eddie Munson be called aggressive? Okay, if you were shallow you might see the hair and the jacket and the wild charisma, but when did clothes become more important than who was under them?

“Okay,” Nancy replied eventually, a thoughtful quirk to her head. “You guys can go now, thanks for the help. I’ve roped in Fred to help with the last of the decorations. He’s not on the homecoming committee, but he’s volunteered to help anyway.”

Rose and Dustin said goodbye and headed out the door; the kid waited until the door closed firmly behind them before leaning into Rose, making sure no one was in earshot before speaking low into her ear.

“Fred Benson is not helping out of charity. He’s totally in love with Nance,” Dustin dished the dirt. “He follows her around like a little puppy dog, it’s kinda sappy.”

“Which one is Fred?” She whispered back, wary of insulting any of the guys in the hallway.

“Glasses, blonde hair, has a scar on his face. He’s in the school paper with Nancy.”

“And Nancy doesn’t like him back?”

Dustin chuckled. “Seriously, if you want gossip you should hang around more girls...not including Robin. It’s complicated. Fred is in love with Nancy, but her boyfriend Jonathan - Will the Wise’s older brother - just moved to California so they’re long distance now. But Nancy’s ex Steve still has a torch for her.”

Rose gasped. “Walkie-talkie Steve?”

“Yeah!” He squealed gleefully. “They dated in Nancy’s sophomore and Junior year, but broke up because she fell for Jonathan. It was a whole thing.”

“Wow,” Rose tried to keep up. “So half the school’s in love with Nancy Wheeler. Noted.”

Dustin’s skin flushed. “I may have liked her for a little while, but that was just a silly kid thing. And it was B.S.” Dustin saw her confusion and made a wild little gesture. “ Before Suzie , of course. You’re right though, half the school is in love with Nancy. And the other half is in love with Chrissy Cunningham.”

Chrissy...Rose had biology and English with the cheerleader, whose forlorn aura and sweet smile made her stand out against the bolder, more brash girls who hung about in those cliques, circling about the basketball players. Her anxiety flared again, the sudden memory of Andy and some unnamed meathead insulting her on her first day, calling her kinda fat , in comparison to Nancy the broom handle . It was insulting to both of them, to women in general, and it brought out the self-doubt she’d tried so hard to bury. 

Don’t do it, Rose, don’t do it .

“So,” she said, pretending to be casual. “Which half are the Hellfire guys in?”

“Ew, gross,” Dustin said immediately. “Some of us are basically related to Nancy, or at least it feels like it now we’ve grown out of any middle school crushes.”

One thing Rose had determined over the last week, and was fairly certain of, was that Gareth, Jeff and Chris knew something was up between her and Eddie. Gareth’s smirk was too smug, his eyes too watchful when she sat next to Eddie in the cafeteria. Mike and Lucas she could see were observant too, but Dustin? Dustin seemed to have no idea. Or if he did, he was an incredible actor.

She fidgeted nervously with the end of her French braid - which was totally a coincidence, not that she could be more easily held or kissed or whatever by a certain metalhead covered in snaggy silver jewellery - feeling like a complete idiot. “And the older guys?”

“They don’t like Nancy, I know that. I’ve definitely seen them looking at the cheerleaders. Eddie and Gareth had this whole thing about who was hotter, Trisha Miller or Chrissy Cunningham. Gareth said Trisha because of, well,” he shot an embarrassed look at her, “She fills out the front of her uniform, if you know what I mean. That was his whole argument: boobs. But Eddie said Chrissy had the delicate aura of an elf princess, which is far more gentlemanly. He’s so freakin’ cool. Don’t tell him I said that. I don’t wanna sound like a pleb.”

Rose’s answering nod was weak. “Got it. Not a plebeian. Just a regular old equite, a knight of the Republic, maybe even a senator. I could see you as a tribune of the people. Or a philosopher.”

“Oh my God you are such a nerd, Hellfire is lucky to have you. You know, I think Eddie likes having a girl in hellfire. But not like a girl , if you get what i’m saying. Not like that,” he gave her a signature gap-toothed grin. “You’re just like one of the guys!”

---

The brief space between her last two classes found her scuffing her feet on the floor of the hall, trudging to her locker without the infectious enthusiasm for Hellfire that she had earlier.

She stowed her books and the character sheet for later. Gareth’s drawing of the lady necromancer and cleric adorned the top of the page, an elegant figure in light leather armour and a cape, wearing a bone charm around her neck. Perhaps he’d focused too much on the boobs, it was looking a little...voluptuous. And the armour wasn’t really functional, far more decorative. Just like those stupid uniforms, come to think of it. Damn cheerleaders, with their nonexistent little skirts and bouncy ponytails, and -

“Whatcha doing, McAllister?” Robin’s head was right behind her locker door, popping up like a poltergeist in a haunted house.

“Jesus,” Rose clutched her chest. “Announce yourself next time. You’ll be the death of me.”

Robin gave her a toothy grimace. “Sorry. Come to think of it, that’s not the first time someone’s said that to me.”

“I’m getting you a bell.”

“Are we talking like a necklace with a cute little charm, or a full-on cat’s collar here? Cause i’m not sure I can be contained, you know? I once got locked in a gas station bathroom and I broke out in hives. The mere thought of being stuck in an elevator makes me wanna puke. Oh god, what if the lights cut out while I'm in there...”

Rose clicked her fingers in front of her friend’s zoned-out face. “Wake up, Buckley. You’re not in an elevator, or a coffin, or a locker, or anything confined. You’re spiralling.”

“Hey! Claustrophobia is no joking matter,” Robin fired back. She watched Rose heft her books into her satchel and slammed the locker door emphatically. “What did the locker do to you?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Except for reminding me of my existential dread, social awkwardness, and the fact that i’ll die alone surrounded by a thousand cats.”

Robin’s nose scrunched up. “Do you even have a cat?”

The two of them fell in step, traversing the busy hallways to get to O’Donnell’s last period English class. 

“No, “ Rose said. “But I assume the cats will be attracted by my sad, spinster aura, and flock to the house in droves when I end up pathetic and alone. Maybe i’ll emit a strong catnip odour. It will just be me, a gigantic gothic murder mansion, and an army of cats. Come to think of it, I did see a mouse in the pantry last week chewing on a box of Ritz crackers. I screamed and smashed my favourite Bagpuss mug, and i’ll never find another one of those over here. Perhaps the cat army could come in handy.”

“See?” Robin casually slung her arm around Rose’s shoulder as they walked. “Look at you, thinking positively. But seriously though, why would you end up alone and miserable? You have your family. And me too, I'm your friend?”

Rose beamed. “Of course you are.”

“And the Hellfire guys.”

Her mouth twitched. “Hmm."

Robin stopped in her tracks, almost destabilising them, retracting her arm from Rose’s shoulder. “It’s those assholes, isn’t it. Have they said something weird or insulting? Done something utterly stupid?”

“It’s really nothing,” Rose said dismissively, folding her arms defensively.

Robin had none of it. Her blue eyes narrowed until they were dark and stormy. “I knew it. Something is going on. They’re teenage boys, they don’t have the self awareness to know how irredeemably, stupidly immature they sound. Whatever it is, i’ll knock some sense into them. But I should mention that i’m a pacifist at heart and I don’t even know how to throw a punch,” Robin pondered something, pointing her finger when an idea came to her. “I could ask Steve! Actually, he’s kind of a punchbag, i’m not sure he could survive another blow to the head. The man’s gonna end up with amnesia or something. So not Steve. Aha! I know a scathing, very intimidating middle schooler that we could rope in for Hellfire-defeating duties.”

“Robin, i’m not sending in a child to fight my battles,” Rose insisted. “Wait, its not even a battle! There is no battle, i’m just feeling..off.”

Robin groaned and looked at her long and hard. “Hey, are you busy this weekend?”

She shrugged. “Hellfire is tonight. We have to finish by six, or the Homecoming committee will turn us out of the drama room.”

“I don’t think many people have the right school spirit for Homecoming this year. I know Linda’s going, which makes me doubly glad i’m not. But what are you doing tomorrow?” Robin asked hopefully.

“I have three hundred years of American history to memorise before Ms Baldwin’s history assignment. But I can do that anytime.”

“Okay,” Robin grinned. “I have to work Saturday until six, but do you wanna watch a movie after? We can choose something the Hellfire guys will hate, something sophisticated, something...intellectual.”

A warm feeling spread in Rose’s chest, and she toyed with the strap of her bag, trying not to sound too desperate. “I would like that.”

Robin slapped her own forehead. “Agh, but my parents have this thing, this dinner party with my Dad’s old college friends. It’ll be three hours of smalltalk, devilled eggs, thousand island dip, and charades. And sherry, who drinks sherry? There’ll probably be reels of photographs from Mimsy’s trip to Nantucket. A fate worse than death.”

“We could...we could do it at my place?” Rose said, feeling emboldened by Robin’s willingness to suggest a weekend hangout, something beyond prescriptive school time. “My mum and Jerry will be there, but they are quiet, and I have the third floor all to myself. It would be like they weren’t even there. You could even sleep over, if you wanted to. I know the house is a bit...dilapidated. But there are only four windows still boarded up, the rest have all been replaced. And no more leaks!”

She felt stupid even asking; she was eighteen, not eight. Do young adults even do sleepovers?

“A movie night in a dilapidated murder mansion? Are you kidding? It’s so whimsical!” Robin was excited, hands gesticulating at a hundred miles an hour. “If you stop by Family Video before we close, we can have our pick of movies, courtesy of a very special employee-perk a.k.a what Keith doesn’t know, won’t kill him. Plus you can meet Steve.”

Rose cocked her head to one side, thinking through the mutual friend everybody seemed to have. “I don’t understand how everyone knows this Steve.”

Robin grew shifty, fidgeting and looking anywhere but Rose’s eyes. “Just, normal places. Work, school. You know, where everybody meets everybody. Oh, and if he hits on you, just let him down gently. He’s had a bad year in the romance department.”

“So Dustin tells me,” Rose said. She zoned out as Robin nattered about Steve’s failed dates and some kind of scoreboard, because she spotted Eddie’s unmistakeable figure coming down the hallway, toward Mrs O’Donnell’s classroom door. 

Where others walked, Eddie swaggered. He was all gangly limbs, swerving around the corner as came into the corridor, almost knocking over other students, brushing off their angry looks or jeers with a middle finger or a scary face. But today, he actually had a book. Hell, he had two books in his hand, tucked against his battle vest. Rose had gathered from their few shared classes and the brief, staggeringly honest exchange in the woods on Monday that Eddie was not exactly committed to academics. He tried, he showed up most of the time, but he was often fidgety, overwhelmed or completely buried in his own head rather than the lesson. Yet she knew he read fantasy extensively and designed complex D&D campaigns that required a serious degree of storytelling. 

Eddie hadn’t seen her yet. He hovered by the door, face falling as he looked inside. He’d paused on the threshold of the classroom like he might still make a run for it. She should wave, she should run up and say hello...maybe they could sit together. Who was she kidding, she was definitely sitting next to him if the seat was still free, just like on Monday.

But now, thanks to Dustin bloody Henderson, every bit of her recent burst of confidence was put into doubt. What if he was looking for a cheerleader? Did he search for Chrissy Cunningham in the crowd, with her gentle Elvish princess aura or whatever else Dustin had repeated to her? 

Rose looked down at herself, her Live Aid t-shirt, acid wash jeans, and Doc Martens, and felt incredibly underdressed. Well, at least she’d blend in with the Hellfire boys tonight; it might not be an official Hellfire shirt, but it had a similar vibe. It certainly felt more her than the awful pink high-collared cardigan she’d thrown over a dress last Friday on her first day, in a desperate attempt to cover her surgical scar.

She was miles deep in desperate thoughts about her own imperfections compared to the gaggle of cheerleaders that hovered nearby, all seeming to take her English class, when Eddie looked up. Their eyes met across the hall, a single sizzling, sparking second of contact that almost affected her as physically, as the near-kiss, even though they were twenty feet apart. 

Eddie’s brash, confident personal bled out of him until he was like jelly, leaning against the doorframe for support, eyes bright and hopeful. God, she’d missed that dopey smile. It was no more than 24 hours since they last spoke, but in a single week of acquaintance a day was a long time. Too long. She hugged her copy of Poe to her chest, not sure if she should wave. Is waving too much? Too boring? 

Rose’s arm twitched before her brain engaged; her imagination ran away with her and she did a weird little curtsey, actually dipping at the knee and nodding her head; to Eddie’s absolute, crazy-grinned delight. He did a full-on bow in response, bending at the waist, arm spreading wide.

Her view of Eddie’s theatrics were cut off as Robin stepped into her field of view dramatically, her freckled face only inches away.

“Oh, i’m sorry,” Robin’s voice was teasing, vibrating with restrained energy. “Am I interrupting something here?”

Rose snapped back to her friend. “What?”

“Don’t you give me that , it’s me that’s asking ‘what’...as in what the hell did I just witness?”

Nerves hit her in the stomach, like she’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit jar. Just as she opened her mouth and ready to babble some meaningless excuse or denial, the shrill bell rang out just above their heads, Rose flinching and clutching onto her books.

Rose drew as tall as she could - still several inches shorter than Robin - and tried to look dignified and imperious. “I have no idea what you are talking about. A girl can curtsey if she likes, nothing wrong with it. In fact-”

Robin’s gasp was loud and drawn out. “Oh my god. You like him.”

Heart racing, palm-sweating. Rose didn’t like that feeling, it reminded her too much of being ill, and damn did all this fancying him push her close to that heart-fluttering feeling. She walked toward O’Donnell’s room, where Eddie had gone inside with all the rest of the waiting seniors. “I like all the Hellfire guys,” she whispered to Robin. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Robin looked like a ripe tomato, red, cheeks about to burst. She was about to say something when Rose ducked into the class, using Mrs O’Donnell and her class as a shield, knowing they couldn’t talk freely beneath her bespectacled, scathing gaze.

She let out a deeply held breath, relieved and nervous when she saw Eddie in his usual spot at the back, winking at her and nodding toward the empty seat by his side. 

She could feel Robin’s eyes upon her back as she fled to the back of the classroom and took the empty spot.

“Milady,” Eddie greeted, mischief in his eyes. “I had to fend off an army of orcs to keep the spot free, so you’d better take it.”

“Orcs?” Rose raised a brow.

He shrugged and pointed with his skull-ringed finger toward the front of the room. Gareth was sat between two of the mathletes from the terribly named science geek lunch table, brooding, arms crossed over his chest and shooting Eddie dirty looks. 

She grimaced. “Oh no. I don’t want to piss off Gareth. He might stab me in the back during the campaign later. And i’m not sure if I mean literally, or in the imaginary landscape of the Icewind Dale. I could move, if it will make him feel better.”

Eddie leaned over, and put his hand on her desk table. “Gareth the Great will survive. In fact, he might just concentrate more up there without me distracting him. I’m basically inflating his grade from a C minus to a B.”

“So generous of you,” Rose smiled, staring at his hand, just a finger’s width from hers. “So now it’s my turn to be distracted? Didn’t think about my grades, did you?”

When she turned to face the front, Robin was sitting four desks away,  neck craned comically, keeping an eye on their interaction. 

Eddie didn’t seem to notice, his voice low as he replied. “What’s the worst I could do, drag you down from A plus plus to a measly A single plus? I get the feeling that you know more about this literary shit than Mrs O’Donnell ever has, and you’re just sitting amongst us mere mortals to pass the time.”

“We actually have a double plus at home, it’s called an A star, but...it’s silly really,” A shaky laugh came from Rose’s throat, one she silenced quickly when the teacher’s chair scraped against the floor and O’Donnell stood, surveying the students with a predatory gleam.

“You’re all looking forward to Homecoming tonight, aren’t you,” O’Donnell said gleefully. “Dreaming of corsages and slow dances. But before you scurry home and put on your fancy frocks and bow ties, you owe me something. Assignments.”

Andy the meathead slunk deeper into his chair, with a low, desperate groan.

“Yes, Andrew.” O’Donnell pointed at him. “I will be paying particular attention to your grade this semester. Come on now, everyone pass your assignments forward. Don’t forget, this will count as ten percent of your final grade.”

A whole room shuffled and produced stacks of papers from the inside of their books or their bags on the floor. Rose pulled out a ten page behemoth she had penned at home in the window seat of her attic room.

Eddie plucked out two creased pages from the inside of his jacket, and eyed hers with a nervous smile. “Jeez, did you write a novel or something? How long did that take you?”

Rose bit her bottom lip, feeling her face warm up. “Not that long. But the power cut on Wednesday night really helped, there was nothing to do but read by candlelight in my room.”

He nodded vigorously, passing their essays to the guy in front. “Cool, uh, cool image. Big creepy mansion, candlelight, rooms, bedrooms with...beds. Very gothic.”

“I suppose,” she said weakly. Better than admitting she had nothing else to do on a weeknight than delve into literary analysis in her bedroom, watched over by her wall of handsome musicians and actors pulled from the glossy pages of magazines.

“Wait,” Eddie burst out, head cocked to one side. “What power cut?”

“Thank you class,” O’Donnell interrupted them. “Barring Andrew, of course. If you can’t produce an essay by Monday you’ll be marked as a zero. Which somehow means, Mr Munson, that you handed in an essay on time. I think this has to be a first. I take it this one is yours?”

Mrs O’Donnell held aloft Eddie’s two-pager and she could see it was headed with an eye-catching drawing of a beating heart, anatomically correct...just like the one she’d sketched on his desk last week.

“That’s right, Mrs O,” Eddie said with a smug grin. “But be gentle with my heart, I don’t know if it can take another F.”

The teacher held it with two fingers, slightly away from her body like it might be covered in something unpleasant. “It’s certainly...something. I’m surprised you stopped staring at the cheerleaders long enough to read a single word of Edgar Allen Poe. Let’s hope you can keep it up.”

Oh shit. Rose wasn’t sure which hurt more, the entire class making disgusted noises and turning in their direction, or the sudden realisation that Chrissy Cunningham was three seats in front of Eddie, directly in his field of view. Chrissy was the only one that hadn’t turned around, like she was in her own world, picking at the beds of her reddened, bitten nails. Coincidence or not, it was enough to drain the confidence from her yet again.

“Fucking freak,” Jason Carver muttered under his breath. Rose didn’t miss that he looked between her and Eddie, seemingly just noticing the proximity of the freak to the new girl, his brain slowly ticking and putting together an association of some kind. Not that she cared for the opinion of a such a crowd-peddling narcissist, 

O’Donnell gathered the papers and swung right into the lesson, giving them three poems to read in silence whilst she marked the assignments at the desk, sipping from a mug of steaming black coffee. The woman looked up and snuck a glimpse at Eddie and her, and Rose just knew it. The woman had it out for him, big time.

Rose kept her head down, reading the page a dozen times and not taking in a single line of poetry. Sure, Eddie had flirted with her. Even she was clued up enough to recognise that. But was that because she was just there, literally walking into his domain last week in Hellfire? Was she a consolation prize? 

A grating, irritating noise sounded to her left. She snuck a glance past her makeshift shield a.k.a. notebook, and Eddie was downcast, pencil tapping incessantly on his book, completely wired and ignoring the book altogether. It was worrying, like he was disassociated from the classroom, not able to concentrate on the work, about to snap at any second.

Something clicked within her; he looked like she had felt, stuck in a bright, sterile hospital ward, tethered to bleeping monitors by wired electrodes stuck to her chest, worried sick every second that this was how she would die. That panic threatened her now, an urgent need to flee, her breathing coming hard. If this was how Eddie reacted to a classroom, no wonder his grades had suffered. No wonder he’d repeated senior year not once, but twice now. Rose was kind of in awe that someone would put themselves in that situation willingly, over and over again. She didn’t think she could.

Fuck O’Donnell, fuck the Jason Carvers and the Andys of the world, those that made Hawkins High a real hell for Eddie and those who were different. Rose made a silent vow to herself that she’d help Eddie get through this class, no matter what. Romantic weirdness aside, that smug bitch O’Donnell was not getting one over on them. Not on her watch.

An hour of silent reading later they were turned out of the classroom, collecting their assignments on the way out. Gareth had passed her something covertly and headed early to the drama room, to meet Chris and Jeff before the session began. And as Eddie hadn’t yet left his desk, Rose said a quick goodbye to a very perplexed Robin. Her friend was obviously about to explode with questions, but had to leave as the mysterious walkie-talkie Steve was giving her a ride to her Friday night shift at Family Video.

Eddie was last out of the class, face buried in his assignment. He saw her waiting, flipping over the page and pointing to a big, red D overlapping the sketch of the heart.

“It’s not much,” he said, squirming from her gaze. “But all I need is a D in Mrs O’Donnell’s, and then I should have enough credits to graduate. So it's better than an F.”

“That’s fantastic. Ten percent of the class, already locked down. Ninety to go,” she prattled nervously. “You felt compelled to actually read the story then? It’s as exciting as Tolkien.”

His confident grin returned slowly. “What can I say, I’ve developed a sudden interest in beating hearts and haunted houses. Both very metal. But what did you get, an A or an A plus? Oooh, don’t say a B, you couldn’t live with the shame.”

Rose stepped closer. “Oh, that assignment? Yes, it was an A plus, though she left a note complaining about the length and some of the source material being outside of the curriculum. But actually, i’ve been waiting to hand in my real assignment all day.”

He looked perplexed, brows furrowing, big doe-eyes looking around like he might find the answer in the corner of the room. “Uh...what?”

She produced a sheet of paper from behind her back, holding it up; her newly illustrated character sheet, Lady Ceverra beautifully drawn in monochrome by Gareth during his Art class, except for the red of her hair beneath a dark hooded cloak. It looked like something from a comic book, but less childish, more gothic. 

Eddie’s eyes widened until they almost popped from his head, scanning the drawing, surrounded by her calligraphic script with her character’s name, boxes full of stats, and alignment. “McAllister, what the hell? You did this since last Friday?”

His hand reached out to take the sheet but she pulled it back, planting a hand on his chest to keep his greedy hands away. “It’s a surprise. No reading it before the campaign, dungeon master. You’ll have to discover who Lady Ceverra is as we go through whatever you have planned for us tonight.”

She could feel the rumbling in his chest as he laughed. Somehow her hand had slipped past the layers of open denim and leather, resting over his Hellfire shirt, warm and solid chest right beneath her palm.

“Gimme,” he said, trying to snake his arms past her. “I see some seriously badass leather armour, and suspiciously low cut...did Gareth draw it for you?” He did a dramatic gasp. “Have you been meeting all the guys behind my back, McAllister?”

Rose’s lips twitched upwards. “Only Gareth. And Dustin; that’s why he was missing from lunch today.”

“That little shit. I thought he had the stomach flu. Give it, I wanna see!”

Rose twisted away, keeping the paper away from his grasping hands, surrounded by a curtain of his hair. “No, you’ll have to wait! Be patient!”

She broke away, dodging from him and stepping backward, running down the now-empty corridor with Eddie in pursuit, the place echoing with footsteps and their laughter. She felt like a kid again, being chased in the playground in a game of tag, without a care in the world. She rounded a corner and ducked into an alcove, letting Eddie run past. He kept going to the drama room, arms flailing, wobbling about like a goofball. He has such a stupid run that she couldn’t make it to the drama room door without a breathless cackle coming from her throat, alerting Eddie to her presence as he was about to burst through the door.

“What the hell?” He said, whipping around. “Your stealth must be off the charts.”

She raised the character sheet. “Try Wisdom and Intelligence.”

He bounded over to her like an over-eager puppy, chains clanking on his jeans, hair swishing manically around his face. “Oh please, Lady Ceverra. This humble bard only wishes to learn more about you.”

Her laughter slowed down, became more of a low hum in her throat, finding herself with her back pressed against a locker and Eddie bracing his arm just inches from her head, not caging her in completely but overwhelming her senses.

She held up the paper, obscuring the lower half of her face with it. “Is it proper for the Dungeon Master to read a character sheet before a session?”

Eddie’s eyes were wicked in the gloomy hall, with half the lights turned off already. “I don’t know about proper. More, uh...insatiable curiosity, I guess. I just can’t help it. Not when it comes to you, Rosie. Will you show me who you are?”

This was more than D&D, the seriousness of his tone was clear. And the way he was ignoring the sheet, looking right into her eyes. Her hand dropped and limbs had turned to warm jelly, surrounded by Eddie, still not getting enough , her fingers and lips tingling with the need to touch, to do something phys-

“Oh shit, you two disappear for a minute and you’re getting all pon farr on the lockers,” a very pissed off Jeff said, emerging from the drama room. “Hey, that’s my locker!”

“Goddamn it Jeff,” Eddie gave Rose an apologetic look and pulled away from the locker reluctantly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Enough with the sci-fi references. Not everyone watches Battlestar Galactica.”

Jeff looked like he might pass out. “Woah, woah, woah...that’s Star Trek, not Battlestar. How could you, man. I know you're more of a fantasy guy, but you’ve gotta respect the greatest TV show on the face of the planet.”

“Alright, alright,” Eddie sighed and shepherded Jeff into the Hellfire room and looked back nervously, gesturing to Rose to enter. “If the Lady Ceverra will forgive the foolish jester back there, could I still tempt her inside? The party of adventurers won’t be the same without her.”

Rose peeled herself from the lockers, her back aching from the cold metal. “You can’t put me off now, Dungeon Master. But one question. What’s a pon farr?”

Jeff’s muffled voice called out from within. “It’s a Vulcan mating rit-”

Eddie leapt inside, suddenly filled with panic. “Shut it. Silence Jeff, I swear to god i’ll tape your mouth up if you don’t stop right this minute.”

---

“Your quest has led you to here, every tavern rumour, bribe and threat to the wizards of the Citadel has proven right. The burial mound slopes gently in the wooded hollow, weathered by storm and wind and frost over eons of time, now smothered in vines and moss. The entire mound emits an aura of magic, intense magic. There are wards placed to keep out magic users like you. What’s inside, you ask? Oh, I don’t know, you’ll have to find out yourself by exploring the dark, dank tunnel crumbling into its side. Damp air, thick with mouldering earth, stale with decay, lingers at the tunnel mouth. Do you dare enter?”

When Eddie, reclining on his throne with goblet in hand like he was at a bacchanal, finished his monologue, the party looked at each other one by one. Gareth flexed his knuckles like he was faced with a physical fight, Dustin was nodding vigorously, and Lucas tightened the bandana around his forehead, like he was Rambo himself. 

“Do you even have to ask?” Chris said scathingly. “Each one of us has bled for this moment, dungeon master. I, Thordus Boulderbash, enter the tunnel with my axe-”

“Wait, we’re the Circle of Eight, remember?” Mike prompted him. “We’re playing as wizards for the beginning of the campaign.”

Rose leaned forward onto her elbows. “Wait, why is that? I spent so much time on Lady Ceverra, I was looking forward to playing her.”

Eddie raised his goblet, and threw his leg over one of the arms of his wooden throne. “Children, and milady , hold on. It’s all about trust, man. Let me guide you through this,” he turned to Rose, seated on his right hand side just like last week. “Sweetheart, I know you were excited about this. Just be patient. And in the meantime, you can make the wizard you’re playing now a cleric. You can still heal and eventually raise the dead.”

“Okay,” Rose sighed. “I trust you.”

Jeff muttered under his breath. “I’ve been scarred by Eddie too many times...I feel something big coming, something bigger than a demogorgon, man.”

Dustin nudged Lucas and whispered; Rose had no idea how all the younger boys acted when all three were together, so she just observed and assumed this was all normal.

“We climb into the tunnel,” Gareth picked up the narrative thread. “One by one, we get on our knees and crawl through the dirt, raising torches to light the way.”

Eddie rolled a dice behind his screen. He hissed and popped up, grimacing at them. “Sorry my little adventurers, that’s...a rockfall. You’re clambering through the tunnel and the roof collapses, causing ten damage to the last three people into the tunnel, sealing off your exit. Now, you’re trapped.”

Lucas moaned loudly. “Why did I have to go last? Last is usually safest. Wait - Rose, you’re a cleric, right? Can you do a healing spell? Keep up my HP?”

Rose’s brows raised, and she looked around the table. “Can I?”

Eddie nodded. “You can.”

Rose whistled with relief and threw a d20. 

“That’s a miss, sweetheart,” Eddie says gently. “You all proceed, damage remains.”

“I feel useless already,” she said.

“You’re level one, it’s kind of expected,” Dustin explained. “But look on the bright side! It only gets better from here. Sure, you’ll be slow, miss most of your attacks, and won’t be able to use your necromantic powers until you hit level ten, but you’ll get there.”

Rose tried to mask her disappointment. “Level ten?” 

Eddie placed down his goblet, sitting upright like a normal human for once. He waited, each second he purposefully paused drawing out the tension in the room. “Necromancer’s aren’t born, milady. They have no natural place in the order of things. The land of Greyhawke might be full of magic, but life and death, those are...immutable. And the power to raise something already dead back to life? That’s against nature. That’s something you earn with blood, sweat, tears and a mother fucking tonne of XP points. But when you get there, it’s...intoxicating, like a high,” he gave her a smile that travelled straight into her veins, pulsing warm and dizzy all around her body. “When the time comes, you’ll fucking love raising the dead.”

Rose cleared her throat and pressed together her legs, aware of a very distressing, very urgent pulsing in places other than her heart, hopeful that the other guys didn’t notice the flush to her skin. “So, um, why does it take a necromancer so long to build up to their attacks?”

It was Mike who answered, his gangly awkwardness long gone, confident in the game and as knowledgeable as Eddie. She remembered he was the younger boys’ Dungeon Master.

“Whether good or evil, a necromancer can’t just practice raising the dead straight away,” Mike gestured with his pencil to the board and the character sheets they all placed in front of them. “There’s not really a halfway to raising the dead, right? They will have to practice slowly sucking the life force out of people before they can make their first thrall - that’s the zombie they create, a thrall. So it might be like they’re sucking the energy out of someone for a long time, making them sick. Like...their eyes might start bleeding, organs sucked out their bodies.”

“I guess,” Lucas chimed in, with a grin. “But I think it's more psychic than physical. So they might feel sick and have headaches and shit, but they’ll look fine, until suddenly they’re not fine at all. The lich is hungry, and they need a snack before they have the energy to fully raise the dead. But once a necromancer has practiced enough? Once he or she has reached level ten? All bets are off. Their Raise Dead spell is like a nuclear bomb on the D&D board, a weapon more powerful than most other classes. They go from nought to sixty, killing and raising people as thralls left and right.”

Rose looked down at Lady Ceverra, at the drawing Gareth had finished this afternoon. The drama room spotlights and flickering pillar candles lit up a fighter in light armour, a cleric with healing skill, and one day, a necromancer. A thing of power, but with that power came the serious temptation of evil. Whether her character could resist all that temptation at level ten was to be seen. Raising creatures from the dead sounded fun, but she’d been dead herself, technically. Even if it was just a few minutes. Was she a thrall, bound to do others bidding? Or now she was alive again, was she truly herself?

The game went on for three hours, screaming, jeering, dice flying across the table. They encountered a horde of gargoyles in the burial chamber, losing Lucas to the creatures before the party could make it to the main chamber in the burial mound. Chris was slain at the burial chamber, inhaling poisonous spores, and their party became just five.

Eddie ducked behind his screen again and read through his meticulous notes, then he launched upward, standing on the throne, speaking down to them like a King to his subjects.

“You creep into the burial chamber. Runes on the wall are familiar, but older than any you’ve seen before, layered with a thousand years of dust. And all around a central sarcophagus are long given offerings of wine, incense, coin, and something even more sinister...corpses of animals, of people, pitchers of dried blood filling the air with the thick scent of copper and iron.”

“Oh man,” Gareth said shakily, hands buried in his hair. “I don’t like this.”

Eddie smiled, and continued. “A blast of air colder than ice, colder than death itself, ripples through the chamber. It sucks the very last breath from Dustin, killing him on the spot.”

“What?” Dustin threw his hat across the room. “What the hell, Eddie? I didn’t even get to roll?”

“Mike is next,” Eddie says, sinister, creeping toward the back of the boy’s chair. “Your lungs struggle, coughing and snapping something in your body, gargling on the sudden warmth of your own blood and choking to death.”

“Thanks,” Mike said, deadpan.

Eddie crept around the table clockwise, talking to each of his friends, and Rose got a vague idea of what was happening. 

“Jeff, you’re next. Death comes for you as swift as a knife in the dark. Then Gareth...ah, Gareth. Your power is obvious, your skill known throughout the land. But even you cannot face the forces of darkness and evil alone. You form a fireball with your hands just as the cold takes you, desperate for its warmth. Your body shrivels and hits the floor in an instant. But the light it casts illuminates the dark chamber for just a second...”

Eddie turned to her, his dark eyes wild, the candlelight flickering in their glassy depths.  “Lady Rose, the flare of light gives you just long enough to see a lumpy, grotesque shape emerge from the sarcophagus...a skeletal frame, grey-skinned, with white hair and broken teeth. He raises two gaunt hands toward you and snaps your neck with a single click of his fingers. And his last words? Hail, Vecna.”

“Jesus Christ!” Dustin flung his pencil on the table. “The wards weren’t there to keep wizards out, they were there to keep Vecna in!”

The guys made noises of shock and horror, Rose holding her breath, waiting for an explanation.

“Hold on, it can’t be Vecna,” Gareth said to the group. “The thing had two hands. We know Vecna’s left eye and left hand were sacrificed long ago, so this is just one of his followers, another necromancer. The fucking Cult of Vecna, dude. This campaign is going to break us, it’s going to kill us all.”

Rose was confused. She let them talk amongst themselves about the significance of the villains she’d never heard of before, but her eyes kept going back to her character.

“But we all just died!” She shouted, cutting over the masculine voices. “Isn’t that the end of the campaign?”

Eddie leaned toward her, palms planted on the wooden tabletop. “She’s right, you did just die, so let me finish. Rose, your wizard is dead, as are all of you. The Circle of Eight - which you were playing as - has perished in the tomb, releasing a powerful lich, a cultist of Vecna. But as each of you die, you wake in your mortal bodies. Rose, that means you’re now playing as Lady Ceverra, and everyone else as their own characters. Each one of you awakens with the same thought: Vecna will rise, and the Circle of Eight is slain, the last force strong enough to contain his evil already fallen. One thing each of you know is that you must find Mordenkainen, the Circle’s leader, the last hope for defeating Vecna and his cultists. The quest for Mordenkainen is next week, brave warriors. Get your characters ready, this is the start of my longest campaign yet, we’re talking months.”

“Holy shit,” Dustin cried out. “Vecna is going to be so tough.”

“I know,” Lucas shook his head. “Erica is going to be so jealous. She’ll pretend it's dorky, but she secretly thrives on shit like this.”

Rose felt so behind compared to the others, out of her depth when it came to the gameplay and technical knowledge. She smiled weakly and packed up her things with the others, blowing out candles and wafting away the smoke before the Homecoming committee barged in and accused them of smoking.

A hand appeared on her shoulder; Eddie, with his bashful smile, trying to stop her from tidying the room.

“Hey.”

She smiled back. “Hey.”

Wow. Thrilling exchange, McAllister. What next, how are you? Do you come here often?

Eddie crossed his arms over his Hellfire-emblazoned shirt. “So Vecna is basically the Witch-king of Angmar, once a king, kind of ascended to godhood but not really. So  maybe a cross between the Witch-king and Sauron?”

“Ah, my nemesis,” Rose laughed. “Because...because i’m Eowyn...from last week.”

Eddie blinked a couple of times. “No, I get it. Very appropriate. But Vecna’s a big deal, I hope you have fun. I mean, the whole point is to have fun whilst doing this. So if at any point you think it's boring or don’t wanna continue, please don't pretend and secretly grow to loathe and hate me for dragging you here. What I mean...I mean...”

Rose hushed him. “No one is forcing me to be here. I like it, your storytelling is amazing, and the guys are all fun.”

He seemed to like that, growing brighter as she spoke. “So you’re not going to Homecoming tonight then? No desire to put on a poofy dress and dance? You know, they’ll probably play some Duran Duran at some point. Your favourite.”

Eddie did a little tap dance across the drama room, with the guys in the background making groans of despair or laughing along as they saw him up to his usual antics. He looped around the table and came right back to Rose, bowing at the end.

“Is that how people dance at school events? Like their boots are on fire?”

“Nope, that’s the Hellfire special, dance like Satan’s watching you, and your feet are licked by the flames of hell itself.”

“Satan licks feet?” Rose feigned surprise, hand on her chest. “That’s a bit  kinky. I would expect no less from the dark lord himself.”

Eddie’s grin was a mile wide, and he bit his bottom lip rather sinfully. “You just wait until Halloween. The ritual sacrifice is so worth a whole year of red tape and consent forms.”

Chris made a disgusted noise in his throat as he walked by, putting on his own leather jacket and getting ready to leave.

Dustin, Mike and Lucas ran out, called by someone’s parents in the hall, probably Mike’s mom dropping Nancy off early for homecoming prep.

Eddie watched go fondly, and turned back to Rose. “Your Balrog isn’t here yet?”

“My mum? No, she’s relaxed her claws a little bit. She’s not very well, and my stepdad’s working late, so I get to take the bus. It’s quite exciting really, she’s been overprotective about it for years, like she thinks I need to be within ten feet of a trained paramedic or first aider for the rest of my life.”

Eddie’s frown lined his face deeply, mouth pursed and slightly open. “You’re getting the bus? But that doesn’t come for almost an hour.”

“I’ll wait. Maybe Nancy needs help with decorations or punch-bowl filling.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Nope. Nuh-huh. The carriage has plenty of room, i’ll give you a ride home if you don’t mind sitting next to Gareth for a while, his place isn’t too far.”

Rose toyed with her hands, fidgeting awkwardly. “Really? You’re sure?” 

“Deathly serious,” he replied. “No maiden roams the streets and takes the bus on my watch. Besides, we can continue your metal education, introduce you to a few new songs. I still have to build you up to Megadeath, remember?”

“Sounds...slightly terrifying. But thank you.”

He went a little shy, grabbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. “You never have to ask, alright? Just tell me when you need to get home after Hellfire...or school, or whatever. The van is at your service. And, uh, me too. At your service. Just, whenever.”

Rose could hardly stop smiling, a smile that persisted all the way through clearing the drama room, through Gareth calling shotgun as they walked through the parking lot, through Eddie insisting she get the seat closest to him, but only because Gareth’s house was first, so he’d need to be by the door.

The chariot smelled of cigarettes, weed, and stale fries. But Eddie opened the van door for her like a true gentleman, running to his own side and scooping up wrappers and all kinds of stuff that lived on the front seat, throwing it into the back frantically. She climbed in and buckled the seatbelt, examining the stack of tapes he’d shoved on the dash; Judas Priest, Dio, W.A.S.P, and Jimi Hendrix. 

Gareth crammed into the seat by the door, and Eddie took the wheel, engine roaring into life with an aggravated growl. 

“Hold onto your hats, ladies and gentlemen,” Eddie threw the van into reverse, swinging his arm right behind Rose’s shoulders to look out the back. The van jerked backwards across the lot, swerving around a corner so quickly the thing felt like it would flip over, rubber screeching on the tarmac.

“Jesus,” Gareth hissed. “Lighten up on the gas, dickhead.”

“Drama queen,” Eddie said sheepishly.

Despite clinging onto the seat belt for dear life, Rose was more focused on the arm snaking dangerously close to her shoulders, feeling bereft when he withdrew it. “So what’s next on my metal journey?” Rose asked. “Do I get something heavy yet?”

Gareth replied before Eddie could open his mouth. “Don’t let this guy brainwash you with his Dio obsession. Ozzy Sabbath is the best Sabbath.”

“I have nothing against the Prince of Darkness!” Eddie’s voice rang out shrill in the small van cab. “Lady Evil and Heaven and Hell just happen to be great songs, that’s all.”

Gareth chuckled sarcastically. “Better than War Pigs? Better than Iron Man or Paranoid?” He scrambled around and found a tape, leaning over Rose and shoving it in the cassette player. “You know Sabbath wrote Paranoid in under an hour, just to fill up the album. One of the greatest metal songs of all time was just Ozzy’s filler . How can Dio compete with that?”

Gareth punched the play button and the opening riff blasted in her ears, her hands coming up to muffle them.

“Sorry,” Eddie reached over for the dial and turned it down, swerving just a little as they came out onto the main road. 

“It’s a miracle you still have any hearing left,” Rose commented. Her knee bounced to the rhythm of the song. “I like this. Weird that he’s blaming his girlfriend for his craziness, but I can overlook it.”

“See?” Gareth said smugly. “Ozzy Sabbath is the pinnacle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie murmured. “Lady Evil still kicks ass. Dio has the range, you can’t deny it.”

Rose laughed and just observed ad the guys argued back and forth in the ten minutes it took to get to Gareth’s house, a split level ranch in a neat, tidy neighbourhood, the very picture of suburbia with manicured lawns, little garden gnomes and flower beds, and practical sedans and station wagons parked on the roomy driveways.

“Don’t forget practice on Sunday,” Gareth called out as he leapt down from the van. “You still owe me those extra drumsticks.”

Eddie nodded. “I’m good for it. See you later, man.” 

The van door closed and Rose was acutely aware of their proximity, and the fact that they were alone again.

“So,” Eddie grinned. “The cassette player is all yours now, milady. What do you want to play?”

She hummed, making a show of thinking intently. “Give me something heavy. I can take it, I promise. What’s your favourite?”

Eddie sucked in his breath and whistled. “Oh, I don’t know. Not sure if you can handle it.”

Rose pivoted in her seat, belt straining across her chest. “Is that what you think, hmm? I’m not delicate, trust me. Favourite song, give it to me.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “I...I, uh think I can do that. Maybe it's time to introduce you to Metallica. I mean, it’s only fair after I listened to about an hour of Duran Duran last weekend.”

“Hey,” she swatted his arm. “No one forced you to eavesdrop on my personal mix tape, Edgar Munson .”

“I knew you’d pull the Edgar card eventually,” he chuckled as they pulled out of Gareth’s drive, back on the road again. “I told you, restraint isn’t my strong suit, sweetheart. God, what do they all even do? Do they have instruments, or just stand around doing a little dance as they sing backing vocals for the main Simon Le Bond or whatever?”

“Simon Le Bon,” she corrected. “But stop trying to distract me, give me some Metallica.”

He grabbed a tape from the dash and tossed it over to her, an electric blue case, forked with lightning, with the band’s name in big letters. “Fast forward for a few seconds, press play exactly when I tell you. Keep going...now.”

Rose hit the button and a sonorous church bell rang out, followed by a heavy guitar riff, the sound filling the whole van. She let the music unfold, watching Eddie headbang and tap his ringed fingers on the steering wheel out the corner of her eye.

By the time the vocals kicked in she was nodding with him, bowled over by the incredible guitar work. It might be kind of a new genre to her, but there was something so atmospheric about it, unpretentious, out there...very Eddie. A drumline so strong it thrummed through her like a heartbeat.

Minutes later, the song faded slowly away, and Rose snuck another glance at him. 

“You like?” he asked, face vulnerable. “Don’t lie if it’s too much.”

Rose smiled. “I like. A lot.”

He let out a breath, sagging against the steering wheel. “That’s good.”

“So what’s next? More Metallica, or do I get to graduate to Megadeth?”

Eddie cocked his head in surprise. “As much as I wanna walk you through my whole collection, you know you’re home, right?”

She startled, looking out the window. They were parked on her vast driveway, sweeping up to the double-fronted house, the grey-blue faded paintwork of the gothic mansion fading into the gloomy dusk, bright lights in the first floor windows lighting the place from within like a great big jack-o-lantern. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She gripped her satchel hard, stilling her fidgeting fingers, leaning back against the lumpy van seat. “Maybe, do you want to...you could come in. I mean, if you wanted to.”

Eddie grabbed a handful of his hair and covered his mouth. “You want me to come in?”

Rose felt so utterly lame, so bumbling and terrible at talking to him, that she willed the ground to swallow her up whole. “Only if you want to.”

He leaned in, looking between her and the house. “I don’t think I should.”

Rose nodded vigorously, unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching for the door, clambering out as quickly as she could. “Of course, no big deal. It's Friday night, after all. That was stupid of me to assume you wouldn’t have any plans-”

Eddie’s door slammed as she backed away from the van, and before she knew it he was out on the path ahead of her, palms held up like she was skittish and about to run away - which she supposed, she was about to do. “No, no, no,” he said frantically. “I mean I literally can’t come in. I, uh, I really want to. Like really . But I promised someone I wouldn’t, and I don’t want to break that promise.”

“Ah,” she said slowly. Oh god. This was the part where he admitted to having a girlfriend, wasn’t it? Someone less bookish, someone metal , who wore leather and listened to Megadeth every day with her breakfast. Not Duran Duran. God , she probably had a Megadeth tattoo. Complete fucking opposite of Rose. What the hell, she was probably a cheerleader too. A rocker-cheerleader, with blood red lipstick and teased out Joan Jett hair, and nipple piercings. Yep, an anti-Rose. 

Eddie sighed, frustrated, crossing his arms and pivoting about, feet restless. “I can’t be that guy, going back on my word, you know? Everyone expects a Munson to be a fuckup, a criminal, a cheat. I don’t wanna be like that.”

Rose laughed, but instead of careless and breezy it came out deranged and shrill. “I get it, Eddie. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you in class next week.”

She dodged around him and marched up the path, towards the imposing house. Don’t turn around, she told herself, tears stupidly prickling at the corner of her eyes. Don’t look back. She fumbled with her keys at the huge door, the one with newly fitted stained glass in the shape of  a rose, of all things. Mum insisted it had to be a rose, she thought it was a lovely coincidence.

“Fuck it. Bollocking fucking fuck,” she cursed, keys clinking as they dropped to the floor. She bent down as the door swung open, the light inside bathing the gloomy night, a pair of tartan slippers right in front of her nose, attached to corduroy trousers, with novelty socks peeking out.

“Whatcha doing there, kiddo?” Jerry’s chipper voice said loudly. “Got the old butterfingers, have you?”

“Something like that,” she said, all the energy draining from her.

A car door slammed in the distance, and an engine roared into life, chugging away and fading within a few long seconds, all with Rose still bent down on the porch.

Jerry shielded his eyes with his hand. “That’s a strange looking bus to me.”

He left. Of course he’d left. She groaned as she stood back up. “A friend gave me a ride home.”

Jerry nodded, standing aside so she could come inside. “You’ll have to ask your friend to come in next time, I know your Ma would love to meet them.”

Her laugh was shrill, just like earlier. “Wouldn’t that be nice, Jerry. I don't think he fancied coming in for a cup of tea.”

“Maybe next time, eh?”

She sighed heavily. “Maybe next time.”

The entrance foyer to the house was a mess. The facade of the fireplace was fancy as hell - and who the bloody hell has a fireplace in their foyer? - but the metal grate was missing and some tiles needed laying. The huge sweeping staircase was in need of a good sand and varnish and two spindles were missing. 

Rose had never minded living in a construction project, the dilapidated state of the house had given it a romantic air, but tonight she saw what others must see: decay. Her imagination was running wild, wondering where the murder had taken place. Hopefully not her room.

“There you are, love,” her Mum pottered into the hallway, a cup of tea in hand, her face drawn and tired, blonde Princess Di hairdo mussed up and tucked behind her ears. “How was your day at school?”

Rose kicked off her Doc Martens and stomped across the creaky floorboards. “Still alive, so there’s that at least.”

“Don’t,” Mum said, a hint of panic in her voice. “Don’t joke about that, Rosebud. My nerves won’t take it.”

She felt horrible, guilt eating away at her stomach. Rose’s little brush with death may have affected her far less than her mother, after all Rose went itn surgery and came back out feeling like shit, that was all. But Mum? She’d lived through being told her daughter was dead, and they’d begin resuscitation, with a slim chance of success. Yes, Rose knew the impact on her was far greater, despite the scar she lived with now.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” she gave her an impetuous hug, holding her tight. She’d lost weight, her bones felt fragile as a bird. “Shall we watch some telly that Jerry won’t understand? Monty Python, or Only Fools and Horses? I’ll make you a proper cup of tea, his always tastes a bit odd.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Jerry’s voice floated from somewhere across the house.

Her mother beamed, grabbing onto her tight. “Really? I thought you’d be busy, maybe even go to that school dance that’s on tonight.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “It’s not like a school disco, it’s all big poofy dresses and tuxedos. Plus, I think someone has to ask you.”

Mum settled in front of the TV, under a knitted blanket Rose had made when she was ten, misshapen and lumpy. “So. No nice boys at school then? No one you’d have liked to dance with?”

She snorted as she joined her mum on the couch, trying to imagine Eddie Munson in a bow tie, slow dancing to Bonnie Tyler or REO Speedwagon. “The less said about the boys at school the better.”

Her mum was no fool, her eyebrow twitched and she watched Rose with sudden interest. 

“Actually,” Rose reached for a diversion. “I have a favour to ask. Can my friend Robin come and stay tomorrow night? I may have promised her we’d watch a film.”

Mum’s face lit up. “Oh, that sounds lovely. Does Robin know about your heart?”

“No,” Rose moaned. “But i’ll add it to the interview process for my potential friends, shall I? Sense of humour, check. Good taste in music, check. Can recognise congenital heart failure and perform resuscitation, check.”

“No need to be sarcastic, dear. Invite her over, I’ll make sure Jerry is occupied in the garden or in the basement. Give you girls some peace, so you can gossip about musicians or boy bands or whatever girls your age talk about these days.”

“I think Robin wanted to watch something sophisticated, maybe something French. She speaks it too. Maybe a foreign film or a documentary.”

“God,” her mum sighed. “When I was your age...well, we didn’t spend much time watching documentaries, if you catch my drift. Ah, the sixties. Just before I met your father I had a fling with a very dashing pipe welder from Sheffield. My goodness, he had muscles in places I didn’t know could be muscled.”

Rose buried herself behind a stuffed pillow, muffling her cries of horror. “ Stop, please , before I vomit on the sofa.”

“Youth is wasted on the young. Do you want some booze tomorrow? I’ve got some Peach Schnapps and some Tia Maria in the pantry, on the top shelf.”

The pillow moved just slightly, until she could speak. “Yes please, Mum. If you’re going to talk about muscled pipe welders, i’ll need to be drunk.”

---

Rose slept fitfully that night, hovering on that surreal place between the waking world and the sleeping one. In her dreams she was floating aimlessly, on a river in the dark. At first it was peaceful but the current dragged her under. Through the muffle silence she could hear a melody, a beautiful tune hovering on the edge of her consciousness, like she’d left on her walkman and it was bleeding into her dreams.

She woke for the briefest of seconds, the delicate keys of a piano still thrumming through the air, an echo of the dream music in the quiet, creaking house. Her breath came short and she flung her arm out, grappling with the pull-switch on her lamp. Light flooded the room again, but there was nothing, no figure in the corner, no monster lurking in the shadows. Just the old piano by the window, untouched, and silent, the black and white keys illuminated by the lamp and the sliver of moonlight from her window.

She sagged back down on her bed. On the edge of her consciousness a thought crossed her mind; she would have sworn the lid over the keys was shut...wasn’t it? But sleep came for her like a thick, warm blanket, and any thoughts of haunting music and piano keys were forgotten.

[thee-kurojo]

SMOKE SESH W/ EDDIE MUNSON +18

Warnings || cursing, sorta smutty and yknow drugs. Pierced nipples. Some info: Eddie and reader were friends?(not anymore) and he knows enough about how your parents are sorta Strict and how you can be a little paranoid about getting in trouble, he just didn’t know you smoked :) SHITTY WRITING WARNING. I REPEAT SHITTY WRITING.

Weed is beautiful. Absolutely amazing. From the pungent smell it radiates to the delicious burn it gives when you inhale the smoke into your lungs. It soothes your racing mind and puts you in the best mood possible. Such a euphoric, wonderful, out of body experience that always had your back, definitely your best friend. So when you went to grab your last blunt from your little pouch to ease the headache coming on due to the idiotic jocks and brain dead cheerleaders you unfortunately encountered at lunch, you damn near freaked when your hand came up empty. You then remembered the night before.

Steve “The Hair” Harrington and Hottie Robin Buckley came by to watch a few movies. Already buzzed you didn’t even register it was your last blunt you were sparking up to share between you three. Frustrated and feining, you reluctantly pulled on your thin zip-up. Making sure to lock your door (yes in your mother’s house LMAO, the itch was that serious!) before climbing out your window into the stuffy, humid night of Hawkins.

You’re cursing yourself the entire bike ride to Hawkins High, where you know the curly headed long haired boy would be at this hour. Playing his very interesting but apparently, “devilish” which your mother would call it game with the rest of his club. You knew this because Dustin, Mike and Lucas. Your favorite kiddies who come into the arcade determined to be the top of the leaderboard of their fave stupid little arcade games. They’d talk your ear off about D&D and their “Dungeon Master” who you knew all about.

After kicking your bike stand down, you hopped off and fixed your jacket. Glancing up at the door of the building and contemplating your actions. Are you really this desperate for some tree? Why is that even a question, of course you were. Shaking off any reluctant feelings, you took long strides up to the door and slipped in. You were happy to be met with lit up hallways and excited shouting coming from the two door room on your right. Ignoring the nervous feeling in your stomach you walked up to the doors, a hesitant hand comes down to the knob. You could hear dustin and mike screaming at each other on the other side, smiling a little at the slight crack in Dustin’s voice and shaking your head before opening the door and poking your head in, the loud shouting stopping immediately.

“Y/N?” You hear both Dustin and Mike ask, confusion lacing their words. All eyes were on you now, oh how you hated every fucking bit of this situation. Nervously smiling and entering the room fully, heavily avoiding the eyes of the eldest in the room and looking at the two boys.

“Hi guys, sorry to interrupt…I just needa talk with..” finally mustering up the courage to look over to boy, who was currently squatting in his throne, big brown eyes already looking at yours, “..Eddie- just really quick!” It honestly felt like outside became inside because you were burning the fuck up- was there no air conditioning in this shitty ass building? Like cmon, this is just not making anything bet-

“Wassup Y/L/N … I’m in the middle of something here.” He addresses you, doing a quick up-down look of your figure, eyebrows furrowing slightly, very intrigued. You looked to him again before glancing around the room to the rest of the incredibly confused faces- honesty everyone is confused okay? You just wanted to be back in your room, in your bed, with your weed and happy smiles. Listening to your favorite music that always made you feel like floating on wat-

“Yo, Earth to Y/N, hellooooo, what do you need?” Eddie says yet again, interrupting your train of thought now standing and walking over to you. How the hell- actually when the hell did he even move- why are you even thinking about that, get it together! Weed! You’re here for weed girl. Finally quieting the loud talking in your head, you answered him.

“Sorry! Sorry, can you just come outside really quick- it really won’t take long.” You said quickly, giving a short smile to the two boys who were staringgggg at you down. You couldn’t tell if they were just still confused to see you there or if they were mad at you for interrupting- which’ll probably get them in trouble with Eddie. You could say you cared but you’ll be lying because in this moment you just needed to see if the leather wearing boy had anything on him so you could get the hell out of here.

He looked at you for a second before turning back to the group, letting them know he’ll be back in 2 minutes and none of them better look at his binder- whatever the hell that meant, before he was following you out into the hall. Before he could ask for the third time this night, why you were interpreting his very important campaign and standing in front of him with what looked like pajamas.

“Okay this is very important, do you have anything on you? Pre-rolled or not, I’ll take anything” you rushed out, nervously messing with your fingers and yanking on the sleeves of your jacket. You honestly don’t know why you were so nervous. Actually scratch that, you know exactly why. Eddie “the freak” Munson, which you never called him was standing in front of you, solely focused on you and being an ex-friend with a slight crush on him didn’t make it any better. When you didn’t get a reply, you finally looked at him instead of jotting your eyes everywhere but him and he had a hand stroking his chin, as if he had a beard and eyes squinted in thought- what the hell was he doing?

“I’ll even take an edible even- anything’ll work-” before you could finish that sentence Eddie cut you off.

“Is miss little ‘teacher’s pet’ y/l/n a stoner!?” He laughs, crossing his arms over his chest, ring-clad fingers holding onto his forearms. You definitely weren’t fighting the urge to admire them … nope. Rolling your eyes and clenching your jaw slightly.

“I’m not a fucking teacher’s pet- the teachers just like me because I actually turn in my work and don’t give them a shitty time for the hour and twenty minutes they have us…unlike some people” You say through grit teeth, squinting at him slightly. As much as you liked Eddie, he was a cocky little shit. He smirks slightly, pursing his lips and looking you up and down before shrugging.

“Got me there doll face, now I’ll help you…only if you smoke with me” He smiles sweetly, which makes your knees weak. Before you could even think rationally you’re saying yes. Eddie celebrating triumphantly and letting you know he’ll only be about 30 more minutes, insisting you sit in on the campaign while you wait. Which you did and to your surprise it was very, very entertaining. Something about Eddie being so passionately in character, matching the younger kid’s energy ten-fold. You swore your heart was soaring. Wait…no no no, you’re here for weed and just that, nothing else.

About 30 minutes or so go by and you’re all heading out the building, saying your goodbyes to overly excited tweens and throwing your bike in the back of Eddie’s van. The ride there was…rocky, Eddie blasting his favorite song from Black Sabbath, bopping his head, tapping his fingers and such to the heavy beat and humming the guitar riff perfectly. You surely thought you were going to die with how fast the dumbass was driving but lo and behold you made it to- er- your house. You were so focused on watching Eddie you hadn’t even dared to look out the window. He parked a few houses down and you could see your mom’s light off from her bedroom, notifying you she was asleep.

“Uhh Munson, why are we back at my place?” You question, pursing your lips and looking over to Eddie who reached over to his glove compartment, which caused his leather sleeve to brush up against your bare knee m, causing you to hitch your breath. That didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie but he decided to mention it later, sitting back up when he finally found the black case he was rummaging around for.

“We’re here because I know how paranoid you get if you’re not like at least 10 fucking minutes from your house.” He states, pulling out a blunt and holding it up. There it is, in all its glory- wait did he just call me paranoid?

“Hey! I’m not paranoid, I’m just cautious” you defend yourself, watching as Eddie unbuckled his belt. He got out of his seat and shuffled to the back of his van, sitting on the blanketed floor.

“Yeah yeah just get back here Sweetheart, I’m sure you don’t have all night” You groaned, huffing and shaking your head. You blame Eddie’s pretty little smile and your craving for the devil’s lettuce for agreeing to this … maybe weed is bad, definitely not.

You eagerly take a seat opposite of Eddie, watching him tug off his infamous vest-covered leather jacket combo. After pulling his silver light from the pocket he was left in his slightly tight Hell-Fire club T-shirt. This time you couldn’t help your wandering eyes, landing right on his gorgeous ringed hands. He brought the blunt Up to his lips and the flicker of fire finally knocking you out the trance you fell in. You looked up to an already smirking Eddie and you rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Humor me Y/N, how come you stopped being friends with me?” He asked curiously as he takes a drag from the blunt, passing it to you; who takes it eagerly. You can’t even focus on anything he’s saying, you slightly wet your lips with your tongue and taking a long, lung burning, satisfying hit. Blowing out the smoke you inhaled, you could’ve sworn you were asked something- honestly you didn’t know because within a few seconds it’s already taking effect.

Eddie was full on fucking panicking. That had to be like Top 3 of the hottest things he’s ever seen. You + Smoking? Something he never thought he would or wanted to see….well okay maybe wanted bc cmon let’s be real. He couldn’t even remember what his question was, and not because of the weed but because of how enchanting you were.

“I asked a questionnnnn y/n” he whines playfully, taking back the blunt, starting the rotation process.

“Oh uh- what..” you said, a bit lost because lemme tell you, you were realllyyyy fucking craving that tree man.

“I asked why you stopped being friends with me” he repeats his question, taking one more hit before handing it back to you.

Okay first of all, whyyyyy is he asking questions. Ugh. You just wanted to get high, get some more weed and get outta there. Though, you were starting to realize that wasn’t exactly true. Getting the weed yes but leaving? Nah, getting high with Eddie Munson had definitely been on your bucket list for a while. You thought about your answer, grimacing a little at how stupid it was but it was the truth.

“Parents…My mom didn’t really like the boy you were becoming, had to cut you off. Trust me, it wasn’t as easy as you think it was” You say truthfully, passing it back. You laughed and jumped a little when he jumped back as if he got shot, clutching his heart with his free hand.

“Oh doll face that just hurts my heart” He says playfully, tsking and sitting back up. He didn’t want to admit it, or show it but that did sting a little. His interests didn’t reflect negatively on his character, and it shouldn’t. The blow was softened though when you mentioned it wasn’t an easy thing to do.

With that, sparked a lot of questions between both of them. Y/N wondering how he’d been since they last spoke. Eddie damn near begging you to tell him how and what made you start smoking … also who. Definitely wasn’t him and he couldn’t help but get a bit jealous when he heard the name “Jason” and how you were drug-curious if that’s even a thing at a party. And that blossomed into a beautiful relationship between you and the beautiful drug Marijuana.

It was rolling around 2am and you were fucking baked, so was Eddie but that didn’t stop him from sparking up another one. He smiled at you when you changed his music to the mixtape of your favorite songs you found hidden under his rock ones Holy shit how did he still have this. When you sat down next to him he smiled when you laid your head on his shoulder, humming to one of the songs. He loved how comfortable you got even if you guys hadn’t talked in a while. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t blushing at the close proximity between you two. Breaking his train of thought, you moved to lay your head in his lap, looking up at him.

“I really like your rings” You say out of nowhere but so very certain. And you didn’t stop there. “They’re just so hot, definitely matches … you.” Eddie chuckles softly at that, looking down at your eyes, which were staring into his. Before he could even respond to that, you kept going.

“Your eyes are really pretty too, hair pretty- lips, honestly you’re just super pretty and hot…hottest boy in Hawkins High.” Bitch, you’re literally trying to kill him. The boy is burning red, head so clouded and he couldn’t think straight. You were drowning him in compliments and all he wanted to do was have you bent over for him, spewing them out between whimpers. Note to self: getting high will always make you Horny, with a capital H.

Girl you literally broke him, like he couldn’t find words to say. He was just staring down at you with those big, adorable soft bug eyes. You didn’t regret blurting that out for even a second, but you were getting nervous- should you have said it so soon? Should you have waited till you both weren’t high out of your ass?? Your mind was going a mile a minute but it went blank when you felt a hand clamp lightly, but firmly around your throat. You could feel the cool rings rest again the side of your neck and you damn near moaned when he squeezed lightly. You were both keeping eye contact, eyes never leaving the other until you sat up, his hand dropping from your neck and your faces mere centimeters from each other.

Without a second thought, Eddie smashed his lips against yours. A small moan buzzing in the bottom of your throat at the slight pain it caused. You straddled his lap this time, hands moving into his beautiful, surprisingly soft, full locs. Eddie’s hands resting on the top of your ass and moving lower by the second. He moaned softly when you tugged on hair at the same time as biting his lip. You broke away to pull of your jacket, your activities making your body burn irritatingly. Before you could even think Eddie yanked down the light tank you were wearing to see you had no bra on. He figured, your nipples were perky against the thin fabric of your jacket you discarded.

He whined, yes whined at the sight of your tits. Eddie Munson was most definitely a boob man and was proud. And when he saw they were pierced, he couldn’t help the pathetic sound he let out. Not wasting another second his lips were wrapped around your left nipple, sucking and lightly biting at the skin, earning a plethora of profanities to spew out your mouth. Due to the piercings they were unnaturally sensitive and Eddie couldn’t get enough of it. Tugging on his hair pulled another whine out of him and he pulled off looking up at you, who had your eyes shut in concentration, starting to grind your hips down on him…..

And there you have it folks. THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG I COULDNT CONCENTRATE. If you’re wondering why I ended it like that, don’t be alarmed. I just wanted to get this out to see if you guys will like it and if I should keep going <3 also guys I love weed. weed is so cool. Weed is soooo.. ugh I need MY DAMN PEN

Creds to the gif maker 🤍

[shangchiswife]

Doc ock x reader where reader is a hero, but get hurt in a fight and doc ock take care of them

hey! this was sm fun to write. i also ended up making it also a norman x reader as well as a doc ock x reader so there's double the fun. enjoy!!

also this contains minor spoilers for spiderman no way home i guess?

summary: you get hurt after a mission and otto and norman take care of you.

norman x gn!reader x otto

warnings: none except for maybe alluding smut?

word count: 1065

It had been about six months since the five villains from the other multiverses decided to stay in your large house along with Peter and Aunt May, who you obviously let in since they were basically family.

Peter was still trying to perfect a cure for Norman Osborn since his situation was awfully different from anything he's ever worked on before.

Being a hero yourself, you couldn't really help him much since S.H.I.E.L.D was always on your ass to go fight since you were a very powerful assassin.

You used to be one of Natasha Romanoff's best friends and she taught you all of your skills. Whenever S.H.I.E.L.D would call you, you'd always want to be there to fight for her legacy since you were kicking ass with her skillful tactics.

You had just gotten back from a mission and now you were limping back to your house with your hand on your stomach where you had gotten stabbed.

A trail of blood leaked from your wound as your breathing became heavy as the smell of smoke from the mission still burned in your lungs, making you cough out causing a string of red blood to pour from your lips.

You lodged the key into the hole and twisted it urgently and then entered your house.

The first thing you heard was Peter's sweet laugh making your heart swell.

He was like the little brother you'd never had and you loved him so much.

As you trudged in you noticed that everyone was huddled up in the living room, all lounging on the couch with a movie on in the background.

"Hi guys," you smiled as everyone looked up at you, their initial happiness being replaced with concern.

"Y/N!" Aunt May shrieked as she ran up to you frantically, observing the wound in your stomach as you coughed out once again.

"It's just a stab, May, I'm fine," you reassured her, placing your hands gently onto her shoulders.

"That looks so deep," Max walked up to you, his eyebrows furrowing.

Everyone in the apartment had become very close with one another and everyone became friends. There was a sense of love and appreciation all around.

"Guys I'm fine I promise I just need a little sleep..." your voice trailed off as you almost passed out but Peter quickly caught you due to his spider sense.

"Y/N, you just fainted...me and Norman are going to take care of you," you heard Otto's husky voice command.

Before you could reply you felt yourself go limp and your eyelids shut.

When you woke you were immediately blinded by a bright light.

"Ow," you groaned as you twisted over and shut your eyes.

"Oh sorry," you heard the rich voice of Norman Osborn as he clicked a button that shut off the bright light.

You opened your eyes and observed your surroundings.

You seemed to be on a stretcher and there was a first aid box beside you with its contents overflowing out on the table.

Norman and Otto stood in front of you, deep in conversation as they noticed you getting up.

"Ah ah ah, you still need your rest, my dear," Otto tutted as he brought one of his tentacles up in the air and gently placed you back down on the bed.

You saw Norman smirk down at you.

The nickname and his stare sent chills down your spine.

It was no secret that you were into older men and them being here just didn't help your obsession at all.

"So I'm assuming you both fixed me up, huh?" you questioned as you sat up once again making Norman click his tongue in annoyance.

"We told you to stay down, you need rest," Norman practically growled which made a smirk form on your face.

"Norman calm down the poor thing was stabbed!" Otto argued, his chocolate eyes radiating anger.

"Whatever," the other scientist mumbled as he stared at your arrogant form.

"However, you really should lay down," Otto turned back to you.

"Well, I'm feeling much better actually so I think I'm gonna go," you jumped off the bed making the two scientists' eyes widen.

"The only other place you're going is your bed," Otto cautioned as you saw Norman's eyes glint dangerously.

"No actually because I want to eat the fries I saved yesterday so thanks for your help guys but I think I can handle it from here," you said as you walked towards the door.

Norman bared his teeth as he grabbed you roughly and Otto took the opportunity to get one of his tentacles out and gently grab you by the waist.

"Y/N, we're taking you to your room," Otto's tone was gentle.

"But I want my fries! You not letting me eat is cruel and unjust punishment and for what? I literally just got stabbed," you argued.

"You know with that manipulative behavior of yours you ought to become a villain," Norman laughed as you all arrived in your room.

Otto placed you on your bed as if you were a delicate flower.

"Well, thanks I guess," you mumbled, an embarrassed look forming on your face.

"You're welcome, now get some rest we'll check on you in a bit...and I'll bring you your fries," Otto smiled warmly at you as he walked up to you and placed the covers over your body.

Norman joined him and a gentle smile formed on his face.

"They overwork you at your job...I'm going to have a little talk with whoever runs that S.H.I.E.L.D place you work at," Norman's voice was dark for a moment before you grasped his hand tightly.

"Norman it's fine I promise I just need a break for the next couple of days and then it'll be okay," you squeezed his hand tightly making pink coat his cheeks.

You loved the effect you had on these men.

Otto bent down to kiss your nose and smiled at your shocked reaction.

"Get some rest and then you can get more of that," he smiled then stroked your cheek.

He backed up and let Norman kiss you on the cheek.

"If I even see you move out of your bed I will punish you later," he whispered, his hot breath fanning your ear making you grow warm and fuzzy all over.

"Kinky," you whispered back making him pull away and smirk at you.

The two men left your room leaving you in solitude and your heart beating fast.

The effect they had on you, geez.

[incendiobrock]

Pranked You ;) {Colby Brock}

Request: Hello sweetie! I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader and Colby aren't dating YET but there is yah know, chemistry and tension. But one day sam decided to pull a prank on Colby and it involved EVERYONE. So basically he makes it seem like he woke up in a different world or something where stuff is different. For example: him and reader are dating (you can choose whatever other stuff happens, lol) but once Colby figures out the prank, he pulls reader aside. They have a small argument before reader blows off on him, in which he says "I've never wanted to kiss you as badly as I do know" and that's how they admit their feelings! Thank you! And can't wait to see what you write love

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your request, sorry for the wait, I have been very busy with school and work. I hope the wait is worth it though! Get ready for a long imagine, I’m pretty sure this is about 3,000 words. I hope you love it! I just realized that I tried to keep this imagine gender neutral but I forgot that I accidentally put some she/her pronouns in it, I’m so sorry!

Warnings: Angsty, Cussing, Mentions of alcohol, implied smut

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

It was just like any other day for you. You woke up around noon because you were exhausted from the day before. Between working, going to college, and trying to keep somewhat of a social life, everyone could see just how worn out you would get day to day. So today you decided to treat yourself with a few extra hours of this beautiful thing called sleep.

Your phone rest on the bedside table and of course checking it and replying to the unread messages was the first step of your morning routine. The first messages you saw were from the group chat that consisted of you, Kat, and Tara. Apparently, while you were sleeping, Tara and Kat had a whole conversation about a girl’s day that they wanted to plan for you three. The last text sent was from Kat and it read, “I can’t wait for y/n to see all these messages in the morning. We planned the best girl’s day while she was probably passed the fuck out in her bed lmao”.

You smiled sending them a text back alerting them that you are indeed alive and down for all the plans they had created. In fact, you would be seeing them later at Sam and Colby’s place for a couple’s dinner/pool/movie date night. Jake would be there as well, and although you were tragically single, you loved all of them to death and hanging out over there was like the most elite sleepovers you would have with your best friends as a child.

A new text appeared on your screen just as you began to emerge from the comfort of your bed sheets, “God finally you’re awake. I’ve been waiting for Kat to tell me you answered her message all morning. I need your help tonight with a prank. Colby is never going to see it coming”

“A prank? I thought you guys didn’t do that anymore...? But I’m in ;)” You sent back. Out of all the trap girls and all the boys, Colby and you got along the best. Ever since you first met, which was years ago at this point, Colby and you have been inseparable. You tried so hard to avoid your feelings for him, in hopes to not develop a crush that ended up ruining your friendship, but Kat picked up on it right away. She told you constantly that she could easily set you up with the beautiful blue-eyed boy, but you insisted that things would happen naturally if there was truly something there between the two of you. And so, you went on, day by day, falling helplessly in love with the sweetest boy you have ever come to know.

Sam sent a message telling you to head over to their place as soon as possible. You swore that you basically lived there already. You were at their house way more than you were at your own. You couldn’t imagine living further than 15 minutes from them. After what felt like a century to Sam, you arrived at the house. Your hand loudly knocking on the big wooden door.

“Hey y/n! How are you?” Kat asked, pulling you into a big hug as she opened the door. You smiled and hugged back at her kind gesture, “I’m good! How are you? Do you know anything about this prank on you know who?” You questioned her. She glared at you, silently telling you to lower your volume. “Y/n! Colby is right upstairs be quiet!” She whispers, laughing at you almost blowing their cover immediately upon arrival.

Kat was quick to take you by the arm and drag you to the theater room where Sam was already sitting on one of the opulent red couches. He greeted you, telling you that he wanted to film your reaction to him telling you what prank you were going to pull. You agreed and sat down on the sofa facing the blonde. “Colby’s taking a nap right now upstairs because he was up super late last night editing one of our Sam and Colby videos. I figured we could use his exhaustion to our advantage and try and prank him that he woke up in some sort of alternate universe. I figured you could go into his room and set up a couple cameras, and I’ll keep two hidden in the living room where me, Kat, Jake, and Tara will be, so we hopefully get his full reaction. I want you to sneak into his bed and like cuddle him or something and when he wakes up, I want you to pretend that you’ve been dating him for a long time now. He is going to be super confused but just try and convince him that it’s true. If he ends up downstairs, we will go along with it too. I really want to see if he will think that it’s real after a while.” Sam explained.

You felt your face burning as your cheeks became a deep shade of red. He couldn’t be serious right? He wanted you to pretend that you were dating Colby? “I- Uh… I don’t know Sam won’t that be a really mean prank?” You tried to play it off, hoping that you didn’t just annihilate all your efforts to keep your feelings hidden. “You guys are like best friends, I don’t think he could be mad at you for such an innocent prank.” Sam replied. You began to feel incredibly flustered at the thought of having to be so affectionate with Colby. The room started to feel like a sauna as the sweat began accumulating all over your body.

Sure, you and Colby had cuddled before, but it was extremely platonic… Plus, it only happened in very specific moments, like last Wednesday after you had a couple of drinks, and everyone was sat watching a movie where he wrapped his arm around you so you could rest your head since it could barely hold itself up. You snapped out of your thoughts quickly realizing that Sam had been waiting on a response from you. You knew Sam was stubborn, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Your eyes met back with his and the only thing you could get yourself to do was slightly nod your head ‘yes’.

“Perfect.” Sam smirked, getting up to turn off the camera and hand it to you so you could set it up in Colby’s room. You already knew that he was thinking about how many points this would score him for a Sam and Colby prank war if it turns out the way he is wanting.

Before you knew it you had made it all the way up into Colby’s room where you had strategically hidden the camera, facing it towards the sleeping boy in his bed. You let out a deep sigh, trying to prepare yourself for what was about to go down. “If this ruins everything for me, I am going to kill you Golbach.” You whispered, knowing the deep sleeper wouldn’t hear a single thing. And so, the prank began.

You took a gentle hold of the silky black sheets and quietly slipped into bed right next to Colby. There was no game plan in your mind, you didn’t even think up a storyline about your fake relationship for once he woke up. You squeezed your eyes shut in fear as you quickly wrapped your body around his, resting your head under his chin as he slept on his back. He twitched slightly, bringing his arm up, lazily holding you back. The breath caught in your throat, this was already hard enough for you and now he is cuddling you back? You glanced up to see his face, his eyelashes were slightly fluttering, and his soft lips had a slight part in them. He was still fast asleep. You decided to try and wake him up by moving around in his arm slightly, hoping the movement would pull him out of his dreams.

“Y/n?” His voice rung through the room, deep and raspy. He sat up slightly, glancing around the dark lair that he called a bedroom, but his arm still remained around your frame. “W-what are you doing here?” He stuttered, visibly confused by the sight of you in his arms.

“What? I can’t cuddle my boyfriend?” You answered, shocked that you could even get those words to come out of your mouth. His eyes widened at your response, pure shock etched into his face. “Boyfriend?” You felt his heart start to race as he replied.

His arm dropped from your body as he delicately pushed himself out of bed. He was now hovering over you as he stood by the bedside table. There was a clear glass with some water sitting on a coaster on the table. His strong hand wrapped around it as he brought it up to his mouth, downing the rest of the water that was in it. You could tell by his body language that he was beyond confused. The glass clinked as he practically dropped it back onto the nightstand.

“Am I dreaming or something? Since when was I your boyfriend?” His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to look at you for some answers. Your heart sunk thinking about how mean of a prank this truly was, at least from your point of view. “Baby… Are you serious? We’ve been together for years now, are you feeling okay?” You said as you threw your legs over the side of the bed, pulling his hand into your own.

Your thumb gently rubbed circles onto the back of his hand, but only for a couple seconds before he pulled it away. “Is this a fucking prank or something?” He asked, irritation evident from his tone. You shook your head ‘no’, it was becoming hard to process words. You knew this was upsetting him, but Sam had you promise to make the prank last for as long as you could.

“I’m sorry- I have to get out of here really quick.” Colby said, making his way out the bedroom door. You said nothing back, hoping that Sam would end the prank for you as Colby made his way down the stairs.

“Hey brother! You’re finally up. Where’s y/n? I thought we were all doing a couples movie night?” Jake interrogated as Colby glanced to see Sam, Kat, and Tara standing over in the kitchen. Colby brought his hand up to his face rubbing his eyes, there’s no way that Jake is saying this too. Colby began to think that he was seriously going crazy. And then everyone else joined in on the conversation. You could hear them loudly as you stayed glued to Colby’s bed.

Sam began to ask if Colby was feeling alright, and you heard Kat say that maybe we should take Colby to the hospital in case he was losing his memory. You felt the panic in Colby rise as he was deflecting everyone’s concern insisting that he wasn’t losing his memory, and that he definitely wasn’t going crazy. He knew for a fact that you two weren’t dating, and none of them could convince him otherwise. “Dude, she’s gonna hear you up there. You’re going to break her heart. You really don’t remember?” Sam pushed.

You finally had enough. You raced out of Colby’s room and rushed down the stairs. You stopped immediately upon entering the kitchen, seeing everybody else still standing there surrounding Colby. The energy switched as they all looked to you, Sam pleading with his eyes for you to keep going. “I’m so sorry Colby, it was just a prank, please don’t be upset.” You couldn’t handle it any longer, the pain on his face was too much for you to bear. You watched as he scoffed back, “I knew it. Fuck you, guys. I’m going back upstairs.”

You felt horrible as you watched him stomp back up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Tears stung the back of your eyes, this was all your fault. You excused yourself from the group and somberly made it to Colby’s door. You preceded to place a faint knock on the wood, “Colby? I’m so sorry, can you please open up?” Your voice was so soft, it would’ve been hard for him to hear if he hadn’t already anticipated your arrival. The door swung open as Colby quickly made his way back over to where he previously sat on the couch.

You stayed frozen at the door for a couple seconds, hoping to brace yourself for the angry boy inside. You took hold of the cold metal doorknob, pulling the door shut behind you. You tip-toed your way over to the sofa and took a seat far from Colby. Your mind was running a hundred miles an hour as you tried to concoct a coherent sentence. “What the hell were you thinking? Did you seriously think that I would find this funny?” He spat in your direction.

“It wasn’t my prank, Sam just wanted me to help him out.” You said back, desperately trying to reason with him. He sarcastically laughed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I didn’t ask who’s prank it was y/n.”

You gulped, it felt suffocating in his room. The dark ambiance that normally felt inviting suddenly seemed like your own personal hell. “Colby, I didn’t want to hurt you I swear. I was trying my best to keep everything lighthearted. I could never hurt you.” Your voice was so delicate, it was so hard to speak. The tears were still threating to make an appearance, and that was the last thing you wanted.

“But you did, y/n. That’s the thing. Whether or not you ‘meant’ to hurt me, you did. And everyone else was in on it to. Did you even try and tell Sam that this prank wasn’t a good idea? Did you even think, for a split second, that this was incredibly immature? You were all treating me like I was losing my damn mind, trying to convince me that we were dating when we clearly never were.”

His words hurt, but they were all true. You had never been together, what were you thinking pretending like you were? All to satisfy Sam? To help him get a head start on the prank wars by completely crushing Colby’s heart? He is your best friend for crying out loud. “Look Colby. I never wanted to do this, okay? Did you ever stop and think that maybe I didn’t want to be doing this either? You mean everything to me. Why would I ever purposely hurt you? Especially after everything we have been through. All the ups and downs, the messy breakups, all the fights. I love you so god damn much and I hope you know that I would never, ever, hurt you like that.” By this point the tears were streaming down your face. Your previous spot on the couch was long discarded as you now stood right in front of Colby, praying that he knew you were being serious about not hurting him.

Your eyes searched his for any glimpse of a sign showing that he believed you. His bright blue eyes looked a lot more intimidating than usual. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression not giving you any clues. Finally, he responded, “Is it wrong that I’ve never wanted to kiss you as badly as I do right now?”

And finally, there was your sign. His eyes no longer looked intimidating. In fact, they had completely changed into something much different, lust. You quickly took a step closer to him as he took a stand right in front of you, placing his strong hands on either side of your face. He roughly pulled you in, causing your lips to crash together with loads of passion. They fit perfectly together, better than you ever imagined them. They worked in sync as the feeling inside of you was igniting a fire. He was so rough, but surprisingly still gentle. Acting as if one wrong move would completely break you. Your lips remained locked as he pushed you backwards, surprising you as your back made contact with his plush bed. He was on top of you, hungrily continuing the kiss.

You both pulled apart abruptly, gasping for air after your heavy make out session. “I guess now’s a good time to let you know that I am absolutely, one hundred percent, in love with you.” You stated, starring deep into his eyes. “Then I guess now’s a good time to tell you that I feel the same.” He responded, bringing you back in for another passionate kiss. You pulled back again, “So, does this mean I can finally see those handcuffs I keep hearing about in action?” You asked him, slightly laughing. “Only if you promise to keep quiet.” He winked back. And that was the start of your amazing, long awaited relationship.

[queen-of-the-vampires]

Don’t Mess With The Queen

Characters: Klaus Mikaelson x Hybrid!Reader

Word count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none

Request by anonymous: Could u do a imagine where the reader is friends with the mystic falls gang and is a werewolf and finds out that she and klaus r mates?

Summary: People who you want to call your friends are planning on killing the love of your life. It’s your job to show them who’s really the boss.

Author’s Note: This is a female!reader. I did change this request a tad, but I hope you like it! I haven’t written for TVD in a while now, so please bear with me on this. After asking a few people, I have decided to end this on a fluffy note. I did write an angsty alternate ending, but I don’t know if the anon who requested wanted that or not.

No one knows why you’re really here. They all think you’re their friend, so they feel comfortable disclosing their plan right in front of you. You want to be friends with them because they seem like genuinely nice people, but they are so fueled by rage and revenge that they’ll do anything to get it… even plotting against your mate, your sire, the love of your life.

Stefan and Damon have spent their entire life fighting each other and putting their noses in places where it doesn’t belong. Elena and Caroline have always been the people who want to fix others, to make them better even if there is nothing wrong with them. Bonnie is always stuck in the middle of everyone’s problems, putting herself and others in danger for no reason.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Elena asks, taking out the last bit of weapons she has stashed in the Boarding House.

“First thing we need to do is pick a location. When is Klaus most vulnerable?” Stefan asks.

“Yeah, the last time we did that, Elijah betrayed us. That moonrock or whatever was our only chance to get him at his weakest.”

“You were one of Klaus’ bitches. What do you think?” Damon asks and turns to you.

“What?” you ask, pulling back from your own thoughts.

“You spent over two years sired to him before Tyler saved you. You must know things that can help here,” Elena says.

What she says is true. You were sired to Klaus for two years, but not in the way they believe. You were sired to him in the beginning when you were first turned by Klaus’ mother. You were a werewolf that was in the same village as Klaus and his family. You two became fast friends, always leaning on each other whenever his abusive father and your abusive mother decided to make you two their toys.

Everything was going fine until one of your own decided to kill the youngest member of the Mikaelson family. There was a family friend of Esther, Tatia, that she used her blood in a spell that would make them the Original vampires. Klaus wanted you to have the same thing, so without his parents knowing, he gave you some of that wine. You were the first-ever turned hybrid that came from a spell.

You and Klaus have spent every moment together ever since. What the gang of Mystic Falls doesn’t know is just how old you are. They think you were just another hybrid that he made with Elena’s blood, stuck with him against your will. Tyler found your pack in the mountains and proceeded to unsire every single one of Klaus’ hybrids. When Tyler got to you, that’s when you started to catch onto what he was doing.

If Tyler wanted to desperately to save you, then you were going to act like you wanted to be saved. You came to Mystic Falls and befriended the vampires in the town. Now, they all think that you hate Klaus as much as they do when really, you’re just as in love with him as you were when you first met him.

“He really liked hiding out in the woods, though, they’re usually on werewolf territory, so good luck trying to get there. It’s probably why you can never find him. The werewolves will get to you before he does. He hears chatter in the wind and he moves to another pack site.”

“That’s smart,” Caroline comments.

“Yeah, so you’re not going to find him there.”

“Guys, we need to figure out something, or else more people are going to get hurt,” Elena says. Sometimes, you really want to kill her so you don’t have to hear her speak. “Klaus needs to die.”

Hearing them talk about killing the love of your life enrages you a little bit. You could take every single person in here without breaking a sweat, but you don’t turn to violence just yet. You take out your phone to let Klaus know exactly what they’re planning. You’d be a bad girlfriend if you let them attack without warning him.

They’re planning on killing you, my love.

It’s cute if they think they can.

They seem hell-bent on figuring it out.

I’m not afraid of them if that’s what you’re worried about. They can’t hurt me even with their best player.

I’m worried someone is going to get very hurt. What should I tell them?

Tell them where I am. Let them come. If it’s a war they want, I’m only happy to provide.

Are you sure?

I’m always sure, love.

You put your phone away and look at the small group, getting up to join the elite circle.

“I do know where Klaus lives.”

“That would have been nice to know a little earlier, don’t you think?” Damon sneers.

“Damon, don’t,” Stefan butts in. “Where is he?”

“New Orleans. That place is crawling with witches and vampires, but he and his family are stationed there.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because he took me there once. The witches will know once you arrive, but most of them are scared of Klaus anyway that they’ll help you blend in. Everyone from that town knows the Mikaelsons are royalty, but their castle doesn’t have a lot of guards protecting it. If you want to get to him, that’s where you want to do it.”

“How do you know all of this? This seems awfully suspicious for someone who isn’t sired to him anymore.”

“He still thinks I am. He’ll call me every day and ask for something. He figures if he has a hybrid in another state that I can do his dirty work for him elsewhere. You want to get Klaus? That’s how you’re going to do it.”

“She does have a point. Better to take this fight to his turf than ours. He’s more comfortable there,” Stefan points out.

Now that they know a location, it didn’t take long for them to come up with a plan of attack. Of course, you told everything to Klaus as soon as you were on the plane to get to New Orleans. He told you not to worry about a thing because he’ll plan a little something for their arrival.

No one messes with the King and his Queen.

When you land in New Orleans, the gang is eager to carry out their plan of attack. Just like you said, the town is crawling with witches who sense you the minute you landed. Every single witch knows you by heart, so they’re confused why you’re with them and not with Klaus. Your love must have only told them the basic information instead of what was really going on.

“Okay, where is this son of a bitch?” Damon asks.

“The French Quarter is where he likes to hang out. You’ll want to start there. Caroline and Elena will blend in more since they’ve never been here, but you two might stick out like a sore thumb. Just be prepared. If anything, I know these guys so let me do the talking.” You pause right in front of the group and turn to Bonnie. “And Bonnie? These guys know you’re a Bennett witch. Try not to do magic unless absolutely necessary. Klaus has a thing with witches.”

You lead the group into the French Quarter while keeping your head down to avoid conflict. The group follows your lead until you reach the middle of the place you call home.

“Stay here,” you say and leave the group on your own.

You approach the small bar within the Quarter, and lean over the counter a tad, looking at the bartender.

“Is Klaus here?”

“I’m right here,” you hear your lover’s voice. You and the Mystic Falls gang turn to see him standing in one of the many doorways that enter the French Quarter. “I hear you’re looking for me?”

“Where in the world did you hear that?” Damon asks, giving you a side glare. You step away from the group and speed over to Klaus, standing just a tad behind him. He smirks and doesn’t break eye contact with the older brother. “Traitor.”

“It isn’t a betrayal if I was never on your side to begin with,” you state.

“What are you doing? You’re not sired to him anymore,” Stefan tries to appeal to you.

“My sire bond wore off in the tenth century. I’m a lot older than you think I am. I really did want to be your friend, but you’re all so driven by rage and revenge that you can’t leave us alone until we’re fixed to the standards set by you. Next time you plan to kill someone, you should think twice about who you let into your home.”

“We should get going,” Elena whispers.

“Always the level-headed one, Elena. Too bad you can’t,” Klaus grins.

Stefan and Damon try to leave using their vampire speed, but they are blocked by the spell put there from the witches in this town. It’s like a big spell to trap the four vampires and the one witch inside. Caroline steps into the sun and immediately screams in pain, seeking the shade to calm her burning skin.

“My daylight ring isn’t working.”

“Yes, you’re all trapped here. For how long is still yet to be determined. Welcome to the French Quarter ladies and gentlemen,” Klaus chuckles.

“I can’t use my magic,” Bonnie panics.

“The next time you even think about going after Klaus, I won’t be so nice,” you say.

Klaus wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, whispering something into your ear.

“Pardon us, we have other business to tend to.”

Klaus leads you away from the group, and only when you two are alone, does he turn you so that you’re facing him.

“You can relax, Klaus, no one is going to hurt you. Not as long as I am alive.”

“I can take care of myself, love,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, but isn’t it better when I do it?”

“Tenfold.”

“Always and forever, my love,” you whisper.

You lean in and press your lips to his, showing him just how much you love him.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why! (not sure how much i will write for this fandom, but add yourself if you want!)

@essie1876​ @choosemyname​ @cuddlyklaus​ @sotmperrie​ @akshi8278​ @chynarosep101​ @gh0stgurl​ @littlemissslytherinprincess​ @honeybums-blog​ @kendall-michele​ @tdntu0​ @miraclesoflove​ @nasatonie​ @thelazywitchphotographer​

[ladyartemesia]

The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story. 

———◐——— 

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐——— 

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly! 

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds. 

It was a distress call. 

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid. 

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night. 

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics. 

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm. 

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again. 

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run. 

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there… 

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age. 

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart. 

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas. 

Except for one. 

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history. 

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people. 

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age. 

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl. 

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly. 

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly. 

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft. 

But his gaze burned with determination. 

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest. 

Until only a small silver wolf remained. 

The chief elder sighed. 

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other. 

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night. 

It was cold. 

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see. 

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled. 

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran. 

He had only seen you a handful of times. 

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom. 

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you. 

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance. 

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on. 

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable. 

Unblessed. 

A soulless wolf. 

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent. 

So you could recognize the smell of danger. 

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry. 

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly. 

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike. 

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward. 

But the strike never came. 

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws. 

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin. 

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost- 

You were lost.

So he held. 

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him. 

For a moment, all was quiet. 

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly. 

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe. 

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.” 

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion. 

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur. 

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus. 

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep. 

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke. 

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably. 

Either that or he was becoming numb. 

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake. 

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly. 

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home. 

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you. 

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best. 

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite. 

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch. 

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions. 

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt. 

But they were alive. 

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn. 

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically. 

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer. 

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you. 

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked. 

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered. 

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table. 

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept. 

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.” 

Her hands clenched to fists. 

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression. 

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone. 

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you. 

You were too weak to fight back. 

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves. 

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers. 

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name. 

You wanted so desperately to thank him. 

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could. 

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost. 

“I promise.”

———◐——— 

Today...

———◐———  

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips. 

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha. 

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident. 

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing. 

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall. 

He missed you. 

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol. 

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise. 

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai. 

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen. 

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of. 

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes. 

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people. 

His instincts could not be easily dismissed. 

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours. 

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment. 

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed. 

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it. 

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom. 

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened. 

Foreign wolves. 

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration. 

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges. 

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides. 

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them. 

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. 

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days? 

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile. 

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors. 

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

Chaos erupted immediately. 

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance. 

Every eye turned to him in expectation. 

But he could only think of you. 

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them. 

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight. 

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word. 

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish. 

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear. 

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage. 

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air. 

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs. 

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat. 

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose. 

“Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged. 

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze. 

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees. 

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head. 

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene. 

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him. 

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.  

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood.  I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.” 

Heavy. 

That was how you felt. 

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.  

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides. 

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted. 

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would. 

To harm a Luna was sacrilege. 

It was simply not done. 

What could drive men to such a course of action? 

You should be afraid; terrified even.  

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled. 

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting. 

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp. 

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression. 

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged. 

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless. 

“My mate is going to kill you.” 

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed. 

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered. 

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her. 

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.” 

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart! 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Deep End  -  Five

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Manipulation, Injuries, 

Word Count: 3.2K

A/n: here we are, folks. What if I ended it like this lol that would be kinda gangsta of me LMAO

Deep End Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

You push open the front door with a heavy sigh, setting the paper grocery bags down on the counter then resting a hand on your growing belly.

There’s a tiny flutter under your hand and you can’t help yourself from smiling.

The smile vanishes, however, when a hand grabs at your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Where the Hell were you?” Steve’s angry voice demands.

You look up at him in shock and confusion, looking over at the groceries.

“I-I just went to the store.”

He shakes his head, grabbing your face with one hand and stepping closer. You take a step back with each one he takes towards you, and soon enough he’s got you pinned against the wall.

His grip on your face tightens and you wince, fear overwhelming your body, making your heart race.

“Bucky said he saw you talking to someone. A man. Who was he?”

You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“H-He was just asking me about my pregnancy. When I'm due, if I know what I’m having.”

It’s nothing but the truth.

“I give you freedom and this is what you do? You go and flirt with other guys? You’re my property. Don’t forget that.”

Your tears fall down your cheeks and into his hand, but he doesn't let go. Even as your chest heaves and sobs bubble out of you, he stays glaring at you.

“Please, Steve, stop. Y-You’re hurting me!”

His jaw flexes and he slowly lets go, only to cage you against the wall, slamming his fist against it in the process.  

Your heart hammers in your chest, terror gripping you and freezing you in place as you remember what he did to Nat and her baby.

“I-I came home, didn’t I? I could’ve asked for help! Could’ve said something, but I didn’t. I’m here, again, even though I could’ve run away. I’m here. You have me! You have me.”

You slide down the wall, knees drawn up to your chest as you sob, the reality of your words and the fear doing a number on your emotions.

Steve’s anger slowly melts away, replaced with concern as he sees nothing but terror on your face.

“I-I didn’t mean to yell, honey. It’s okay, shh, come here.”

You don’t fight him as he pulls you into his arms and brings you upstairs into your bedroom, sitting you gently on the bed and pushing your hair away from your face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart I just... You gotta understand how nervous it makes me when you leave the house like that.”

You sniffle then slowly look up at him, your eyes bloodshot and tear-filled.

“Then why give me the freedom to leave?”

Your voice cracks and it makes his heart hurt.

“I... I want to trust you. That’s why.”

You take a few deep breaths, your eyes focused on your trembling hands as your heart starts to slow back to its normal rhythm.

“Ever since that night when Nat and Buck came over you’ve... you’ve been off. I’m worried about you, honey. I just wanna make sure that everything’s okay.”

He wants to know what Nat told you. What she said to have you acting like this.

Your eyes meet his, wet and full of fear as you whisper three words.

“Is it true?”

He has an idea what you’re referring to, and his heart picks up speed.

“Did...did you do it?”

He swallows hard and avoids your eyes, but that’s answer enough.

Some strange mixture of a gasp and a sob bubbles out of you, and you bring your hands up to cover your face as your shoulders start shaking again.

“I didn’t... I guess I did.” You sniffle and look up at him through your tears.

“If you want me to trust you... if you ever want any hope at having some semblance of normalcy, you’re gonna need to elaborate. I’m trying to play your little game but I just... I’m scared you’re gonna kill my baby too. That you’re gonna hurt Sarah.”

He shakes his head immediately, grabbing your hands and holding them softly in his.

“I would never hurt Sarah, or our new baby, okay? Natasha... she was becoming a liability. That being said, I didn’t go into it with the intention of hurting her baby but... I knew it could be a consequence.”

You wait for him to continue, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

“When you burned the book... that wasn’t the only copy. Fury made sure there was at least one more, in case we ever needed it. Had his own group working on it, creating a new version of it. Natasha became a test subject long before I met you. Before I... took you.”

He drops his eyes and huffs out a sigh.

“We didn’t need to wipe her memory, we just... needed a way to make her more complacent. To make her realize that she can’t go off on her own and keep secrets like that. Especially when they involve you.”

Your chest heaves as you glare at him, your anger growing by the second.

“Did you kill her baby?”

The words are harsh like the crack of a whip, and he has to stop himself from flinching.

“It wasn’t my intention... but it was worth it.”

You choke on another sob, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“I didn’t know what the tea would do to her baby. It was just a mild sedative so we could get her to the facility and do the procedure. Get her to tell us where you were, where Sarah was. But then she... she started bleeding. I didn’t... I thought maybe it was just a side effect but then the doctors told us... (Y/n), you’ve gotta believe me. You need to know that I didn’t mean to...” he trails off and shakes his head, thinking about the niece or nephew that he could’ve had.

The son or daughter that he stripped Bucky of. The pain he inflicted upon Natasha. But he has you, so in the end, it was worth it.

You slowly look up at him, shaking your head.

“Why? You’ve done nothing but lie to me and hurt me. Why should I believe a word you’re saying?”

He swallows hard, reaching for your hand again only for you to yank it away once more.

“You want the truth? Fine. You’re not the first person that we’ve... taken. And I doubt you’ll be the last. Bucky... he had someone. Someone to help him control the soldier. But she turned out to be worse than him. We had to terminate her because she became a liability.”

He looks down at his hands, remembering how innocent she seemed. And then she snapped. Tried killing Nat and Bucky. Turned the redhead against them until Fury stepped in.

“Nat didn’t... agree with what we did. So we changed her mind.”

Your brows draw together in confusion.

He can’t mean... can he?

As if sensing your confusion, he elaborates.

“We didn’t do exactly the same procedure. But it... its function was the same. We needed her to forget certain things. To be our friend again while still remembering other things about the situation. And it worked. All I wanted to do this time was open her up to us again. Tell me where you and Sarah were. I never meant to hurt her baby.”

You shake your head furiously, tears dripping down your cheeks. “You’re a murderer. A disgusting monster. I hate you.” Your words are venomous and acidic, and Steve almost flinches at them, shaking his head.

“That’s not true, (Y/n). I love you.”

You laugh, the sound manic and for a moment Steve’s concerned.

“This isn’t love, Steve, this is obsession! It’s unhealthy! You’ve got me trapped here against my will! Y-You’ve hurt me and raped me and now I’m supposed to pretend everything’s okay? I’m supposed to play the good little housewife while you go around kidnapping and killing women? Killing other people’s children?! No!”

You stand up and try to move past him but he grabs hold of your forearm, rising to his feet with you.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes are fiery as he glares at you, but you’re not nearly as afraid as you once were. No. You’re just angry.

You glare at him, rage burning through your body as you yank free from his grip and walk out of the room.

“You leave this house and I won’t hesitate to drag your ass right back!” He shouts.

But you don’t plan on leaving.

Oh no.

Why does he deserve his happy ending so much more than everyone else?

You turn to face him once you reach the top of the stairs, your heart in your throat at what you’re about to do. The damage it could cause.

At least it’ll get your point across.

“Why do you deserve a baby so much more than Natasha?” He furrows his brows, trying to figure out what your next move is going to be.

“I’ve given my life over and over for this stupid pathetic world. I’ve sacrificed my happiness time and time again. Do I not deserve something good?”

You take a deep breath and shrug.

“Maybe you do. But not like this.”

With that, you turn around and let yourself fall down the stairs.

Steve tries to grab you, he really does, but he’s just not fast enough.

He watches you fall, tumble down the stairs then lay still at the bottom, and for a moment all he can do is stare.

Memories fill his mind. Of you falling down the stairs. Then bleeding. So much blood. And your baby... gone.

He nearly falls down the stairs himself in his haste to get to you, two fingers pressing first to your pulse, then his hand is pressed against your belly, trying desperately to feel for the fluttering kicks you told him about.

It takes a minute, maybe two, and then he feels a small press against his hand.

He lets out a breath of relief then grabs his phone, calling the doctor.

~*~

When the doctor assures him that both you and the baby are okay, he’s relieved. But that only lasts for a moment before anger takes hold, powerful and persistent.

You can feel the anger rolling off of him when you wake up, and for a moment you’re afraid.

But hopefully, you got your point across.

He doesn’t deserve another baby. Not if that’s what he wants. He’s a terrible human being. And bringing a baby into the world with him as the father should be a crime.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping to keep him as calm as possible.

“She’s having a sleepover with Morgan over at Tony and Pepper’s.”

You nod, your stomach dropping as you realize you’re alone in the house with him and he’s beyond pissed off.

Your mind races back to all the times he’s punished you in the past, and you almost throw up with the anxiety coursing through your veins.

“You ever do anything like that again and I swear I’ll make you regret it. I won’t kill you, no. My baby needs his mommy, but I’ll make you hurt. You’re lucky I’m not doing anything to you now.”

You swallow hard and look away from him in disgust, only for him to grab your jaw and force you to look at him.

“You need to stop acting out like this. I told you what happened to the last asset who became a liability. Fury shot her point-blank. A clean shot between her pretty eyes. Then he left her to bleed out on the bedroom floor while he fixed Nat’s memory. S’why she’s even still here and with Bucky. If she remembered what he did to that poor girl... she’d have killed him herself by now. But he needs to outlet to keep the soldier at bay. And he deserves her. Deserves some happiness in his fucked up life.”

You shake your head, disagreeing strongly with every word he’s spoken.

They're monsters. Natasha less so. A victim, like you, maybe. But the two soldiers? Monsters. Monsters who don’t deserve any happiness. They deserve nothing but a slow painful death and an eternity in the fiery pits of Hell.

“I told you, (Y/n), I didn’t mean to hurt her baby. If I’d wanted to, I’d be rubbing it in her face more. Showing off your pregnancy more. And if you think I’m gonna hurt our baby, you’re wrong. I would never hurt my babies. It kills me that you think I’d ever do something like that.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve already killed at least one baby.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks and you regret your words.

“You know what? I think you really need a reminder of your place, sweetheart. You’re mine. Maybe not my wife, yet, but soon enough. Until then, you need to know that you belong to me.”

His grip on your face is painful, but you don’t make a single sound.

No, he’s not going to win.

He doesn’t want to hurt the baby or cause unnecessary strain, so he can’t have you on your stomach like he usually would.

So he makes the most of you lying on your back.

He grabs your wrists and binds them above your head, hooking them to the ring on the headboard despite your struggles.

“Steve, no! Please! I-I... Don’t hurt me, please!”

He cocks his head to the side, watching you wriggle and strain.

“You’re mine, (Y/n). You belong to me. There’s no one in this entire world who’ll help you. You’re my property. It’s time you realized that.”

A sick smile spreads across his face as he remembers what made you obedient last time.

“You know, I think I know exactly what you need.”

He climbs off the bed and drops to his knees, rooting under it until he finds his special black box.

You wriggle away furiously, trying to break free before he can hurt you, but deep down you know it’s all for not.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he sits back down on the bed, worming his way between your thighs and flipping your dress up over your extended stomach.

“Please don't,” you whimper uselessly.

He strokes your inner thighs gently, then leans down to spit on your centre.

You flinch away, tears leaking from your eyes as you realize what he’s going to do.

“Please don’t,” you repeat, only to be silenced by him pushing something far too big inside of you.

You cry out, your back arching and sending shoots of pain up to your scalp. The added weight of your baby makes everything ten times more painful, and you can't stop yourself from sobbing as he forces every last inch of the thick dildo into your unprepared cunt.

It burns. Fire spreads from between your legs up your spine and the tears don’t stop.

“Stop! Please! I’ll be good!” He knows you won’t. Or, he just doesn't believe you. You want the pain to stop but you’re not actually willing to change your behaviour for it. Not yet. But you will.

When the dildo is finally fully inside you, he climbs off the bed and shoves the box back underneath it. He adjusts his pants then walks to the door, pausing to look at your trembling figure on the bed.

Your shoulders shake with sobs, and he feels pride swell inside of him.

Good. Now you’ll finally learn.

“You’re gonna stay here until you learn your place. I don’t care how long it takes. When you’re ready to apologize and be a good girl, then we’ll talk. But until then...” He shuts off the light and pulls the door closed behind him, leaving you alone, in pain, and in the dark.

Memories of the last time this happened stab at your brain, and you quickly start hyperventilating.

What’s worse than that, though, is the tiny voice in your head telling you to get off your back. That it’s not good for the baby if you stay like this.

But no matter how much you scream or cry for him, Steve doesn’t come to the door once.

~*~

He leaves you there for hours, or maybe days. It’s so hard to tell.

The room is soundproof, so no one can hear your cries and you can’t hear anything outside.

Even if people could hear you, it doesn’t really matter now.

You’ve been on your back for so long that you’re starting to get dizzy.

During your first pregnancy, you learned only that it’s bad for the baby to sleep on your back. You didn’t think you’d be feeling the effects of it, too.

But here you are, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, mind spinning and lungs struggling to pull in enough air to satisfy you.

It must’ve been several hours ago that Steve left if you’re feeling such strong effects of it. You’re not sure what the technical term is, but you know that you probably don’t have much time left. Your baby has even less.

Your heart aches. Each beat makes sadness bloom in your soul and you can’t stop it.

New tears fall down your cheeks, and all you want is to reach down and caress your belly, apologize to the life growing inside of you.

Apologize for hurting them, for who their father is. For the life you’re bringing them into.

Nobody deserves that.

But now... now you might not have to worry.

Every passing second sends the walls around you spinning faster and faster and faster until all you can do is let your eyes fall closed.

Sleeping will probably make it better anyway, right?

As the darkness creeps up, seeps into your limbs and chases the pain away, you pray.

You’ve never really prayed much before, but you do today.

You send a prayer to any and all Gods, the old ones and the new, and you ask for forgiveness.

You pray for the safety of your unborn child, and for that of Sarah.

A deep part of your brain knows that you may never open your eyes, and you want your daughter to know that you love her. That she means the world to you and you’ll do all that you can to protect her.

Thinking about Sarah brings a wave of strength seemingly out of nowhere, and for a moment you wonder if the Gods heard you. If this is them sending their aid.

You take a few deep breaths, building up as much strength as you can, and try your luck one last time.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as it should be, and the room is so thickly padded that there’s no way he can hear you.

Hopelessness floods your body and you fall into it.

Your sorrow distracts you from the darkness until it takes hold of you and pulls you down, away from the world of pain that you’ve been trapped in.

And you feel peace.

[eunkimmie]

hi! I really liked your sal friends with benefits headcannons and I was wondering if you could do one for larry? :)

larry didn’t think of sex as something that was sacred or that had to be cherished, he just thought of it as a desire. if two people wanted to fuck, so be it. larry thought of himself as a relatively emotional person, even if he didn’t show it all the time. he also knew he wasn’t the worst looking guy out there, he definitely fit into a “type” though. with the long hair occasionally pulled up into a messy bun, the oversized and overworn shirts, loose fitting pants that pooled around his beat up converse with doodles all on the fabric. his tanned skin was even, save for a few patches of acne and some body hair. point is, larry was an attractive guy.

now, there weren’t a whole lot of people in Nockfell that were falling on their knees for him, especially since they knew him as a weird kid in high school, but y’know. tinder was a thing. sometimes he just wanted to chat, or sometimes he did use the app for hookups.

wasn’t much, really. he’d bring someone to his shared house, fuck, then he’d let them choose whether they wanted to stay or leave for the night. maybe if he took a shine to them, offer some weed and cook some shitty eggs for them in the morning.

one day, he matched with you. cute, interesting. and by the way you chatted with him, you didn’t seem too interested in a relationship at the moment either. he invited you over after talking for a day or two, and that was that. you stayed the night, waking to an offer of coffee, maybe some cereal? you agreed, and the two of you sat downstairs laughing. larry was an easy guy to chat with, and almost everyone found that they got comfortable with him and his laid-back nature relatively quickly.

“and what kind of move was that?” you snickered, moving the spoon around in your cereal bowl idly. “i mean, if you’re gonna throw someone on your bed, at least make sure you aim correctly.” he tilted his head back as he let out a boisterous laugh, fist slamming down on the table. “fuck, don’t bring that shit up! sorry for being eager.” the two of you joked like that before you decided it was well time to go home.

after that, larry gradually stopped hooking up with random strangers, and instead turning to you. the both of you were well aware of the relationship and had no issue. but, eventually, the two of you learned that, hey, you actually had some common interests. after a session, you say up in his bed and tried to fix your hair to the best of your abilities after being fucked senseless. “you have a switch?”

“is that a sex question?” he asked, and received a pillow to the chest. “yes, you wanna play something?” you shrugged, pulling a shirt over your chest. he rattled off some names of the co-op games he had, and the two of you had settled on mario kart, cliche as it may be. and of course you beat ass. larry wasn’t a sore loser, instead offering you a lazy smile every time you told him to “eat shit you fucking second place”

larry didn’t question it much, but eventually the two of you became friends. it was bound to happen, your chemistry was more than just sexual, and he was sure that if the two of you had met in person before tinder, you would’ve been friends as well. was it so bad that his fuck-buddy was coming over midday now to play games or watch movies? larry decided that it may be better not to question it. besides, the two of you had a good dynamic going here.

but here’s the thing—when two people spend that much time together in the day and are having sex at night, at least one of them is bound to grow feelings. larry would run his calloused hands up your waist, grasping for as much of you as he could get as his mouth placed sporadic kisses all down your neck. the way your voice sounded as you let out small whimpers made his heart beat faster and faster, but the best noise was when he was fucking you at such a fast pace that had your hands gripping tightly at the sheets, before suddenly he’d stop. he’d watch as you cried out and desperately tried to create some movement between the two of you, and larry would tilt your chin up and give you a lingering kiss, staring down at your tear-filled eyes before he’d finally move again.

every time you two had sex, he would pour all of his affection and feeling into it. he didn’t want to fuck up your friendship, so instead all of his pent up emotion would turn into multiple rounds of sex, sometimes rough, sometimes passionate. he didn’t think he would ever confess, he knew he couldn’t. it would be best to just ignore it, right? right.

so, he never did. he never uttered a word to anyone, not even his friends, about the feelings he harbored for you. and when he asked if you wanted to stay the night, his heart would leap as you nodded and cuddled up to him in bed. and how he felt such a surge of disappointment rush through him when you decided it was time to get going, and left. he fantasized about grabbing you by the arm, stopping you from leaving, and proclaiming that he did have feelings for you, that you were so much more than just a person to hookup with at night. that he wanted a real relationship with you, that he wanted you to stay with him and wake up to him every day, and how much it killed him to open his eyes first thing in the morning and not see your face, and that…

fuck. was he in love with you? was it more than just a crush? it didn’t matter, you didn’t want a relationship, and that was that. larry wasn’t going to push your boundaries, it wasn’t your fault that he had to go and develop feelings for someone he was just supposed to be having sex with. he was in love with you, and the thought made him embarrassed. he’d stay up at night thinking about how quick you’d be to reject him if he ever did confess. the thought of you reciprocating his feelings wasn’t even a possibility in his mind.

you bit your lip as you knocked on the front door to his house. it was strange. you were always attracted to him, of course, but lately you’d been having…thoughts. you spent so much time in his house, his room, that an image of you staying there, with him, had briefly crossed your mind the other night. how would it feel to wake up in his arms every day as the sun peeked through the curtains? to be able to walk over to your shared closet before tossing on some clothes and walking to the kitchen and make breakfast for him? you wondered if he’d help, if maybe he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before kissing you softly. “the eggs might burn,” you’d say, but he would turn the burner off and kiss you anyways. how he’d lift you up on the counter and run his hands gently down your sides and plant soft kisses to your lips.

your fantasy stopped right there as he opened up the door, greeting you with a lazy smile. his hair was up this night, small strands falling from the bun he had loosely tied together. and then, the two of you were in his room. but it felt different somehow. maybe it was your imagination.

he closed the door behind him, pressing you up against the wood after it locked with a small click. his hands worked your shirt, pulling it off before tossing it aside. he ran his hand down the side of your thigh, your legs wrapped around him as he supported your body with ease. your hands had cupped his cheeks as you kissed him, his breath shaky as he pulled back for air for only a second.

you didn’t go home that night. you stayed, waking up to larry’s arms draped lazily over your body as your back curved against his chest like a perfect puzzle piece. you turned over, slowly as possible as to make little movement. now, you were face to face with him, his eyes still closed and lips parted slightly. you sighed, pushing a few strands of hair from his face and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. you mumbled out a strained, “fuck,” before you decided that maybe it was better to go back to sleep.

he acted like he was asleep. cheap move, he knew that, but when he felt your fingers softly brush his hair aside, his heart practically jumped out of his chest. he laid there as you kissed him once, and he swore that if you put a hand to his chest you would be able to feel just how fast his heartbeat was going.

for weeks, the two of you unconsciously pined over one another, both of you too afraid to say anything. you continued as you were, meeting up for either video games or sex.

his room was dark, dimly illuminated by his LED lights, your body reflecting a slight sheen of blue as the lights hit your skin perfectly. his hands grasped at your hips, his back against the wall behind his bed as you bounced yourself up and down on his cock, face to face. he supported your movements with his hands on your hips, eyebrows furrowed. you were so fucking tight around him, and your bodies seemed to come together perfectly, like it was meant to be. the way your lips were parted as you moaned his name, and how you almost screamed when he met your movement by thrusting upwards, and how he had to cover your mouth with his hand as to not disturb his roommates. he had moved you to lay on your back now, his body hovering above yours as he fucked you into his mattress. your hands intertwined above your head, and you could fe that all familiar feeling of a bubble about to burst in your stomach.

“f-fuck..fuck! im so, i’m so fucking—“ your sentences weren’t even coherent as he fucked you rhythmically. your back arched, letting him hit an even deeper spot inside of you that made you cry out his name. you removed your hand from his, moving up to cup his cheeks as you stared into his eyes. “fuck..don’t stop. please, don’t stop.”

“fuck…” larry groaned back. he was close, and the way you looked at him as if he was the only thing that mattered right then and there just drew him closer. it was all too much. the way you cried out his name and pulled him into kiss you. it just came out. he mumbled, “fuck…i love you,” and the way immediately after that you pulled him in for another kiss sent him over the edge. you could feel his cum drip out as he pulled himself out of you. you laid on his bed, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. he uttered that he was going to get you a towel to clean up with after he pulled on some sweatpants.

as you laid there, now partially clothed but still sweaty, you thought about it. you thought about what he had said to you, and how the words alone were enough to make you come undone. your face burned as you thought about it.

larry could really just kill himself. he was so fucking stupid. he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, fist clenched so tightly that his skin turned paler. he was going to act as if it never happened. it was for the best. it was always for the best.

as the two of you laid in his bed, you couldn’t help but think. and in an impulse, you blurted out, “do you really love me?” as soon as the words had left your mouth, your face heated up with embarrassment. you had meant to phrase it more carefully, but the sound of his voice kept repeating that same line in your head.

larry recoiled, barely visible, as he stayed silent. what was he supposed to say? he couldn’t even act cool in the moment as his mind scrambled for words, any words, to come to mind. “uh…” he said, gulping. he could feel his hands getting clammy. “you can, uh…you don’t have to feel obligated to stay if you’re uncomfortable. i don’t want you to feel like you have to pity me.” that came out a bit self deprecating, but he meant it. he was the one who had fucked it up. he was the one that couldn’t even keep his words to himself.

as you processed his sentence, you furrowed your eyebrows. you had been seeing larry for a few months now, was it? the time you spent together, you felt it had become more than just sex. you guys built a friendship, a bond. maybe it was soon, but life didn’t wait for anyone. “no, fuck..! no, i don’t want to leave, i just…” you paused, thinking about it for a moment more. “i think that i might, um. i don’t know, i can’t really think straight right now, i just…i know i have feelings for you.” and you left it at that. you didn’t know if you loved him yet, but you were sure of yourself.

larry’s brain stopped working for a split second in that moment. he took time to replay your words in his head, but only for a second, because before he knew it he was rambling. “wait, seriously? like, actually? you don’t have to say anything to try and make me feel better, know that. i don’t want to try and—“ you cut him off by shaking your head. “no, no! im not just saying this shit, seriously. im really sure of it, actually.” you laughed softly, half heartedly. it was hard to make eye contact.

larry let out an incredulous laugh as you smiled at him nervously. maybe this moment should’ve been more serious, but all he could think in that moment is that he felt happy. truly, genuinely happy. “let me take you out on a date,” he said, to which you responded with a bright smile and a nod. he couldn’t help but laugh again at the situation, and how unorthodox it all felt. he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

the two of you had stayed up late talking. just talking about life, about feelings and emotions. you two didn’t wake until late noon, but waking up to see your face snuggled into his chest was just about the biggest surge of serotonin that larry could’ve received.

[ichigoromi]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐊𝐨𝐝𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐞𝐧 | 𝐊𝐨𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

AHHHH I've been wanting to write about Kenmaaaaaaaa

This is the day!

I hope you guys will like it!

Pairing: Kozume Kenma (Timeskip) x fem reader! (she/her)

Genre: romance, fluff

Warning (s): none!

Enjoy!

Kozume Kenma

How did the most introverted person get a girlfriend before his extroverted best friend?

Nobody really knows, but it all started with games.

You started streaming when you were in high school and gained quite a bit of following on the streaming platform.

While streaming, you barely show your face and mainly plays RPG games.

You mostly played solo and rarely do any collaborations.

When you got into college, sponsors start to reach out to you, and you were getting popular.

Many teams tried to recruit you, but you don't play competitively since you mainly played just for fun.

Then, another creator was becoming really popular as well that goes by the name Kodzuken.

His channel was steadily growing every day, and you were on the lookout for him, so you reached out to him for a collab, since you two played similar games.

It was awkward at first, but you two gradually broke the ice and become more friendly with each other.

After that collab, other gamers, Vtubers and more sponsors (🤑🤑🤑) approach you for collaborations.

On the third collab with Kodzuken, he allowed you to call him Kenma, his real name, instead of his username.

You met him offline after doing six collaborations with him, and boi was he gorgeous.

At first, it was pretty quiet, but you two opened up after getting ice cream.

It was getting pretty late, and he asked if you wanted to stay over at his place since your place was quite far away.

So, you two stayed up playing the switch, and you ended up falling asleep on his lap.

He was screaming internally when you fell asleep so naturally on his lap.

Kenma has been an avid subscriber of yours ever since you started streaming in high school, and he low key has a crush on you.

You woke up immediately when you realised that you fell asleep on his lap.

After you two had breakfast, he drove you home, and you thanked him.

You and Kenma became closer and often met offline, and you start to fall for him.

It has now been about a year since you first knew Kenma, and you confess to him first.

He was shocked, and he turned into a blushing mess.

It took him a moment, but you two started dating then.

Dates were mostly at his house since you two hate going out, but he was shocked when he learned of your hobbies other than gaming.

Other than home dates, you two would go out to the local pottery studio to learn, more like you teaching Kenma since you have been to this studio for quite some time.

Only his best friend, Kuroo and your older brother know about this relationship.

You wanted to keep the relationship private, and Kenma is all for it.

On weekends, he would give you his hoodies and shirts to wear to campus for your classes.

He often sneaks superchat donations into your streams under his side account and often hangs at your place while you stream.

After you finish streaming, you two would cuddle, and he loves kissing your chubby cheeks.

Although he doesn't say much, he expresses his love through his action.

He accompanies you shopping and secretly pays for your stuff.

Our boi Kenma doesn't really care about how much you weigh, as long you enjoy your food.

He loves seeing you smile, and when you are with him, there's never a dull moment in your relationship.

The day that your relationship accidentally got exposed to the world was just one minor mistake.

You were doing a homework stream, where you do your own assignments and projects with your viewers, mostly students like you, burning the midnight oil. Your hair was up in a bun and in one of Kenma's hoodies.

While you were busy with one of your assignments, you didn't notice Kenma coming into your room.

The chat was blowing up, but you were so focused until Kenma tapped on your shoulders.

"When did you come in? You're like a cat! Make some noise when you come in..."Then it dawns upon you that you were streaming, and now your viewers know that you two are more than friends.

Kenma was having fun with your reaction. Honestly, he doesn't care because he knows sooner or later, one of you will slip up, and it was you. You were confused and don't know how to respond.

"Ah, the two of us are dating; it's not fake news." He leans down to kiss your cheeks and head out of the room.

You sat in your chair in shock and gaped at your computer screen.

"That's enough internet for today~; see you guys next time!" You abruptly end the stream.

Kenma looked up from his phone when you sat down beside him and lets out a deep sigh.

"That was not how I plan to announce our relationship...You really have no fear, huh?" He shook his head and smirks at you playfully. You pout and gets into his embrace, and he wraps his arms around you.

He got to admit, that was pretty bold of him, but what's done been done.

"Alright, I'm sorry for doing that. Wanna get some pizza?" He tries to comfort you, but you were scared to check your phone now, and you know your manager would be calling you.

You reached out to your phone and turned it off.

"Okay, get me pizza. Gosh, Kenma, AHHHHHH!" He laughs as you complain about how his fans were going to kill you and how you two kept it private for so long, and he exposed it in such a way.

Not that you blame him, but it caught you off guard, and you felt timid.

"Ah, maybe I should just quit streaming. Kenma, you need to start supporting me when I quit streaming. Okay, now you have to be my sugar daddy." Now, he cannot stop laughing at you.

You looked up and frowns at him.

"What are you laughing about?" Kenma pulls you to his lap.

"I'm just laughing about how you are overreacting. It's going to be okay and if you do quit streaming, I'll support you. Now, do you wanna play the new game?" He hands you a controller.

"Ugh...I hate that you're right. Fine, let's play this game. I've been waiting for weeks to get my hand on this release!" You sat between Kenma's legs.

He kisses the top of your head and pats your legs to reassure you that it will all be fine.

AHHHHHHHHH~! It's done, my first Kenma headcanon! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this! It's not really my best work but I still hope you guys enjoy this! Thank you for reading!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

[nhlandotherimagines]

Since When? -Matthew Tkachuk X Fem!Reader

This is approximately 11.2k words of a friends-to-lovers rollercoaster of emotions! I hope you all enjoy! I hope you all enjoy it! @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19 @puckbitchesgetmoney @glassdanse @suzukick

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of nudity, implied sexual acts, angst, negative self talk, “unrequited” love, drinking, also some fluff as well. Please let me know if I missed anything!

In case you don’t know: Y/n: your name, Y/l/n: your last name, and Y/n/n: your nickname (can be replaced with your name if you do not have a nickname of course)

flashbacks are in italics :)

———

“Y/n, this is Macy. Macy, this is Y/n.” Matthew introduces you to the blonde girl he’s been talking about for weeks. She is so much prettier than you could have ever imagined. Beautiful blonde hair, flawless tanned skin, and her legs went on for miles. You shake the thoughts from your head a large grin taking over your own face.

“Oh how formal of you Matthew,” you say mockingly. “Please call me Y/n/n, and despite how Matty here is acting you have no reasons to be nervous. He talks about you all the time, I like you already!” You beam with a wink. Matt’s ears and neck burn red in embarrassment, as you and Macy giggle.

“I could say the same about you y/n/n!” Your stomach twists a little at that, what could Matthew possibly have told her? You and him have been friends for years. Best friends. You live across the hall from him now. When you moved to Calgary he insisted you moved into his apartment, but you know he would never take a girl home with you around all the time. If you are being truly honest with yourself, it has more to do with the fact that you don’t want to think about Matthew with other girls.

Yet here you are, standing in front of his new girlfriend, who could be supermodel. “Would you like to get a drink Macy? Let Matthew go talk boring old sports stuff with his jock friends.” Macy giggles at your request, but agrees quickly placing a kiss on Matthew’s cheek.

————

“Thank you for this. Matt’s been really weird about me meeting you, and I was worried you were going to hate me.” Macy’s smile falters a little when she says this, causing you to choke a little on your drink.

“Wow! He must have made me seem like a total bitch! Sounds like him really. I guess he knows I want whoever he’s with to be perfect for him, but he doesn’t understand that as long as he’s happy and that girl isn’t just a gold digger than I’m happy too.” You knock her shoulder playfully with yours, “He seems very happy with you, and for the record I think you’re really cool.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, before Macy speaks again. “So how did you and Matt become friends?”

“It’s a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?” You chuckle, as she nods excitedly.

“Y/n l/n?” The teacher reads out your name.

“Present!” You beam from your spot at the front of the class hand in the air. You hear a few chuckles from behind you, and lower your hand slowly slumping into your chair.

“Matthew Tkachuk?” The teacher continues, after giving you a sympathetic smile.

“That would be me!” His voice causes your eyes to snap to the door. He’s beautiful and chaotic. Bright blue eyes, messy curls, a little smirk, and a cute little dimple to tie it all together.

“Mr. Tkachuk, being late on the first day isn’t the best first impression. Please don’t make a habit of it.” The teacher scolds lightly.

“Sorry, I won’t.” He smiles sheepishly, as he places his backpack on the chair beside yours. “Okay if I sit here?” He looks at you expectantly.

Unable to find your words you nod. He sits down, and smiles at you. “I’m Matthew.” He adds sticking his hand out for you. You take it, face burning red.

“Uh- I’m y/n.” You stutter out. More snickers coming from the seats behind you. Immediately you pull your hand away and stare down at your lap, tears burning your eyes. It was your first day of highschool, and already you weren’t fitting in.

“Well y/n, can I call you y/n/n?” He asks quickly, but doesn’t bother to wait for a response, “Want to eat lunch with me? It being the first day and all I’m trying to make friends. What do you say?”

“Okay.” You reply, and smile up at him. No longer feeling as shy.

So you did eat lunch together that day. And every day after that. You became best friends almost immediately. After a couple weeks, you met his family and fit in well with all of them. Matthew fit just as perfectly in your life. You studied together, you went and watched his games, you did everything together.

It was so easy to be with Matthew, so when he got drafted to the Flames your decision was easy. You immediately applied to the University of Calgary.

“And we’ve been friends forever it feels like.” You smile at her.

“So you guys dated in highschool?” She asks, but it sounds more like a statement than a question. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull at that.

“No way! Matt and I are only friends, that’s all we’ve ever been, and we are both VERY okay with that.” You cringe to yourself at how awkward you sound, trying to convince her what you were saying was true. And it mostly was, aside from the fact that part of you wanted more, and still do.

“Seriously? Not even like one date?” You shake your head, “not one awkward game of spin the bottle?” Again you shake your head, “not even a drunk hookup?” At that you laugh, and take another swig of your drink.

“I’m being honest Macy. The closest to any of that Matt and I ever had was my seventeenth birthday.” You shudder at the memory, “Neither of us enjoyed that.”

Macy’s face lit up at that. “Well now you have to tell me!”

You are standing in front of your bedroom mirror getting ready for your birthday party. People would be showing up in about an hour, your mom is in the kitchen finishing the cake, your dad cleaning the barbecue, your siblings at friends houses, and here you are standing mostly naked in front of the mirror. Admiring the brand new navy blue lingerie set you just bought, your very first set. You feel really sexy, for the first time ever, which at seventeen is a big deal.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been standing there, when the door opens, but you are too zoned out to even notice as you run your fingers along the lace resting on your hips. “Oh fuck!”

As soon as you hear his voice you turn towards the door and do your best to cover your exposed body.

“MATTHEW JESUS CHRIST GET OUT!” You scream at him, tears blurring your vision. He mutters an apology as he quickly exits your room.

You cry for awhile, the embarrassment making you not want to get off your floor. However, you do eventually, and change into the dress your mother bought specifically for your party. It was black, and much more mature than your mother would have ever let you wear before, or maybe it’s because you yourself look more mature. Who knows? All you know is that you don’t want to face Matthew.

It turns out that you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t show up for the party. Brady does though, telling you he isn’t sure what happened, but Matthew isn’t feeling well. You know why though. He was repulsed.

You cry yourself to sleep after everyone leaves. Even going as far as throwing out the set of lingerie, unable to look at it anymore.

You thought you lost him that day. Thankfully though, the following Monday it was like nothing happened. Neither of you bring it up again.

“Wow! He never mentioned it?” She laughs in astonishment.

“Not once! I think he’s forgotten really. It’s not like there was really much to see anyway.” You go back and forth like that all night, sharing stories, buying each other drinks, dancing together. It is perfect.

Across the bar Matthew smiles to himself, watching the two of you getting along so well.

“Dude I told you they’d get along!” Noah Hanifin says slapping a hand over Matthew’s shoulder. He doesn’t hear him come over to where he stood leaning against the bar watching you and Macy dancing together, so it startled him at first.

“I knew they probably would, it’s just if they didn’t,” Matthew stops for a moment staring down at his drink. “I wouldn’t be able to choose.”

“Why would you have to choose?” Noah doesn’t get it, and Matthew isn’t sure the answer really.

“Every time I’ve been seeing a girl they always get weird once they finally meet y/n. Most of them just can’t handle the fact I’m so close to a girl.” He shrugs, and Noah sends him a knowing smile.

“So you’ve never told me, were the two of you ever a thing?” Noah asks, taking a drink of the beer in his hand.

Matthew throws his head back laughing loudly. “Seriously Hanifin? You’ve met the two of us right? We have been friends forever. Nothing else.”

“You’ve never even just hooked up? I don’t know, you two just fit so well together I assumed you would have tried it out at least once.” Noah shrugs.

“No way!” Matthew chuckles awkwardly, wanting the conversation to end.

As the two friends lean against the bar in silence, his eyes fall on you. You’re wearing a cute little black dress similar to the one you’d worn the day he thought he’d lost you.

It is your birthday, and Matthew can’t wait to give you the present he bought you weeks ago. It is a miracle he kept it a secret this long. Sure your party isn’t for another hour or so, but he can at least help everyone get ready. That way he can give you your present sooner, and without the prying eyes of your mutual friends.

So here he was walking up to your front door, the little velvet box tucked inside his backpack. Inside it a beautiful gold necklace, the pendant a simple letter ‘M’. Sure, maybe it was cheesy, but you love cheesy. As for Matthew he loves seeing you happy, and he loves you.

“Hey Matthew honey! Y/n is in her room.” Your mother greets him as he comes through the front door. He exchanges a quick hello and starts up the stairs to your room.

Matthew takes a shaky breath, trying to steady his breathing. His heart is racing, why is he so nervous? He tries to convince himself it is just because he wants you to like the gift and not because he has feelings for you. When he finally pushes open your door though, all of the air he had just tried to hold onto, leaves his body immediately. There you are. Standing in front of your mirror, back to him. Your hair curled loosely, and wearing nothing but a set of navy blue lingerie. Matthew is frozen, unable to speak. His eyes rake over your body, even though he knows it is wrong. You look good. So good in fact, Matthew’s pants have tightened considerably since he stepped through your door.

“Oh fuck!” He groans, eyes widening as he finally realizes the gravity of the situation. He watches you spin around, horror and embarrassment clear on your face.

“MATTHEW JESUS CHRIST GET OUT!” You yell, you sound so angry to Matthew. He is immediately embarrassed. Embarrassed to be caught, but mostly embarrassed by the affect you have on him.

Matthew runs home. He pleads with Brady to just put his name on the gift he is bringing, and to let you know he isn’t feeling well. The truth is, he doesn’t feel well. He is scared. Scared everything has to change. The two of you don’t talk all weekend, but maybe Matthew stalks your Instagram to make sure you have a good birthday.

However, the following Monday the two of you fall back into your normal routine. The incident is never brought up again, aside from in Matthew’s dreams that is.

Matthew shakes his head, trying to physically rid it of the memory. He smiles sadly down at his drink knowing that the necklace he bought you that year now sits safely in a box on the top shelf of his closet. He never got to give it to you.

“What ‘cha thinkin’ ‘bout space cadet?” You grin up at him. He smiles back at you, and throws his arm around your shoulder. Subconsciously he scans the room for Macy. “Chill out Matty she’s in the bathroom. You looking to dip on me already? I mean how can I blame you? If I got to go home with someone THAT hot I’d be leaving as soon as I could.”

“I’m not trying to dip!” He shoots back in defence.

“Okay! Okay! Cool it Chucky! I’m just teasing. I like her a lot! Why were you so worried?” You wrap an arm around his waist as he pulls you tighter into his side.

“Dunno. I guess your opinion is kind of important to me. Wouldn’t wanna displease my sidekick.” He smirks down at you.

“Oh please! If anyone is the sidekick here it’s you Tkachuk! Know your place.” You tease, as Macy finds her way over to the two of you. “He’s getting on my nerves! He’s your problem now. Have fun lovebirds!” You wink at them as you slip away. You need another drink, something hard. You also need someone to take home tonight. So you wouldn’t have to think about Matthew and Macy.

You like her. She is perfect for him, and she makes him happy. That’s what you want. It doesn’t mean you don’t wish it was you.

————

The next morning Matthew makes his way back to his own apartment. He had spent the night at Macy’s, but decides to get home early as his parents and siblings are going to be in town later in the day. When he turns down the hall, he notices the guy leaning against your doorframe. He can’t see you, but he can hear your laugh. “I’ll see you later yeah?” Nathan says leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

“Um sure. Yeah.” You immediately start beating yourself up internally for how awkward that sounded. Sure Nathan is sweet, and last night was great! He just doesn’t feel right.

You say your final goodbyes, and promise to text him later before you close your door. Little do you know, your best friend is waiting in the hallway to greet your new friend. “Fun night fella?” Matthew smirks at him.

His eyes go wide as he realized who exactly it is standing in front of him. Matthew’s ego inflates significantly at how terrified this guy seems. “Uh yeah it was alright.” Nathan manages to stammer out.

“She’s something isn’t she? I’m Matthew.” Matt sticks his hand out for the stranger.

“Nathan, and uh yeah she’s great.” The two continue awkward small talk for a couple seconds longer before Matthew lets himself into your apartment.

“So Michael huh?” Matthew grins over at you. You roll your eyes, taking a long drink of your coffee from where you stand leaning against the counter.

“It’s Nathan, but you knew that smart ass. What about him?” You challenge, slightly annoyed that he had to show up and give you a hard time. Matthew just shrugs walking over to you, pushing himself up onto the counter beside you.

“He just doesn’t seem like your type.”

“Matty, how the hell would you even know what my type is?” You cross your arms glaring at him.

“He’s skinny, and he is definitely vanilla as all hell. Sure those aren’t bad things, but you and I both know you want a strong man to be in control. Only in the bedroom of course.” He adds with a wink. Your cheeks flame in response, shoving him. He’s exactly right. Nathan was a little scrawny, and not overly confident in the bedroom. Sure he was great, but he wasn’t Matthew. You curse yourself for even thinking about your friend that way. Your best friend that’s all he is.

“Matthew, get out of my apartment. Your family will be here soon, and I need to get ready to see my favourite Tkachuk.” You tease back. He rolls his eyes, but says nothing as he slips from the counter making his way out of your apartment.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the door shuts behind him. You need to start distancing yourself from him before things get out of hand.

————

“Y/N!!!” Brady gathers you up in a hug before you even have the chance to close Matthew’s door.

“Hey Brady” you giggle into his hair. He sets you down after giving you a quick spin, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

“How’ve you been bug?” He asks, throwing an arm over your shoulder after you finally shut the door. Him and Matthew have called you the dumb nickname for a long time, and at this point it hardly bothers you. You and Brady were always really close, but it was never the same as you and Matthew. He was more like a brother for you, one you annoy, share all your secrets with (especially if they involved boys), and also gave him a hard time. With Matthew, sure you annoy each other, and share secrets, but you and Matthew were a team. Inseparable. It doesn’t make sense, even to you, but you did love them both.

“Not too bad, trying to keep Mr. Hotshot in check. The usual. Though I’ve had some help recently, so honestly I’ve been a little bored.” You quip loud enough for Matthew to hear. Judging by the look on Matthews face though, he hadn’t missed any of the interaction.

“Oh get a room already would you!” He grumbles rolling his eyes and walking away. You and Brady share a look, and he shrugs to signal he’s just as confused as you.

Brady leads you to the couch, and you sit down. The two of you already deep in conversation, catching up on your lives. Taryn finds her way to the couch soon after joining in on your conversation. “So what’s she like?” Taryn asks after awhile.

“Macy?” You ask, and the two siblings nod at you expectantly. “She’s really great! She’s kind, smart, and not to mention a total bombshell! She is perfect for Matthew, I’m happy for them.” Brady just looks at you with a sad smile.

You want to tell him that it’s the truth, that you actually love her to death. Something stops you though, you’re not sure why, but you stay quiet.

Soon after Macy knocks on the door. Matthew runs to answer it before either of his siblings can even react. When you see her, your heart nearly stops. Once again you are in awe of just how beautiful she is. You stay rooted in your spot on the couch as the Tkachuk family takes turns fawning over her. For the first time ever, you felt out of place. You’ve spent the better part of a decade being that girl, the one the whole family raves about. The family chirping Matthew about what a miracle it was you stuck around. Sure it got old fast, but you loved it. Now you can’t help the jealousy that spreads it’s roots through your heart.

After the dinner, if you could even call delivered Chinese food that, you pull Matthew aside after the others make their way to the living room. “Hey Matt, I’m gonna head home I’m kinda tired.”

“String bean do that much damage Y/n/n?” He smirks down at you, and your face twists a little unable to find the humour in his friendly chirp. Matthew’s smirk quickly falls from his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah ‘m fine Matty. I’m just gonna go okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow yeah? Tell everyone I’m glad I got to see them.” You muster a small smile as you turn towards the door. “You’re not gonna say bye yourself?”

“They’re having fun Matt.” You send him a better smile at that, trying to let him know everything is okay. You feel far from okay though, and you can’t even explain why. “And you should be too! Now get in there before Brady talks Macy into finding someone better!” You give him a playful shove towards the chatter in the living room. Thankfully Matthew chuckles at that, and let’s you go.

He watches you closely as you leave, and he feels guilty. Running through his mind everything that might have made you want to leave. Was it Brady? Was it him?

God it was killing him, and that was evident on his face as he walks into the living room. Brady catching his eye as soon as he did, noticing the frown that Matthew quickly covers with a smile. “Y/n told me to let you know she was heading home for the night, and she was so happy to see you all. Except Brady of course.”

“Awe well I wish you let us know before she left Matt, we hardly see that girl anymore.” Chantal spoke, but Matthew barely heard her. All he could focus on was the glare Brady was sending him. Matthew just shrugs at his brother, his form of silent communication to let Brady know he doesn’t know what he was upset about. Brady responded with his own silent gesture, a head nod in the direction of the kitchen.

As he peels himself from the chair he was seated in, Brady makes his way silently to the kitchen. Matthew follows, hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly once the two brothers are finally alone. “Why did she really leave? What did you say to her?” Brady was quick to jump on Matthew with questions, that if he were honest, Matthew was not expecting.

“What the fuck are you talking about? She was tired so she went home.” Matthew throws back, already angry his brother assumes it was his fault.

“It’s Y/n we are talking about! That girl has been around for years, I’ve seen her pass out at our kitchen table on family game night. She’d sooner fall asleep on the couch and spend as much time with us as she could than to just leave. And without saying good bye? Seriously dude what the hell did you say?” Brady was trying to keep his voice down, but he was upset. You were his friend too.

“Nothing! And how could I? She spent all night talking to you! She’s probably just going home to sleep with that idiot Nathan anyway.” Matthew grumbles. Brady freezes at his brothers statement. “Nathan?”

“Yeah some guy she took home from the bar last night.” Matthew explains like it was common knowledge, “he seems like an idiot.”

“Matt are you jealous?” Brady asks, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. Matthew rolls his eyes and groans out loud. “Brady are you stupid? No wait don’t answer that, you are. Y/n is my best friend. She can sleep with whoever she wants whenever she wants. I have a girlfriend.” Matthew’s fists clench at his sides, and Brady’s eyes flicker down to them briefly.

“Well the two of you need to figure your shit out.” Brady adds, turning on his heels and heading back to his spot in the living room. Matthew unclenches his fists, and takes a deep breath before joining the rest of his family again.

———

You sit on your bed, legs tucked under you, leaning back against the headboard. You press Brady’s contact, and watch as the phone rings. You didn’t FaceTime Brady often, but this was necessary. “What’s up bug?” Brady’s smile immediately makes you feel less anxious.

“Well it’s kind of a long story, I’ve been seeing this guy for a couple months now. He’s great, but I don’t really know how to introduce him to Matt without him being weird about it.” You chew your bottom lip anxiously, cheeks warm with embarrassment. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud. Brady’s laughing pulls you out of your spiral. “What’s so funny? Brady I’m serious Matthew makes everything so awkward!”

Finally Brady manages to catch his breath. “Y/n I had basically this exact same conversation about four months ago with Matt. You two are literally impossible! You’re best friends, you just want each other to be happy. As for Nathan-“

“How do you know his name? I never told you that?” Your dumbfounded expression has Brady in hysterics once again. “Matthew.” You groan, finally having pieced it all together. You mumble something about having to go before you end the conversation with Brady. You pull on an old hoodie of Matthew’s that’s slightly too big for you, and quickly make your way to Matthew’s apartment.

You let yourself in, like you always have. Instead of being met by Matt playing video games like you expected, you’re met with a much more horrifying image. Matt has Macy pinned to the couch, and let’s just say they aren’t having a wrestling match. The noise of shock that escapes you alerts the couple of your presence. “Y/n!” Matthew exclaimes quickly crawling off of Macy. He grabs the nearest throw pillow covering his junk with it awkwardly.

After far too long of gaping at the couple you manage to snap out of it, turning back to head for the door again. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I didn’t- oh Jesus! Pretend I was never here I’m sorry!” You’re out of his apartment in record time. Collapsing just inside your apartment door, tears stinging your eyes. The embarrassment was overwhelming, how were you supposed to face either of them ever again?

———

“Well fuck!” Matthew groans after the door slams shut behind you. Macy starts giggling from her place on the couch, and Matthew sends her a glare.

“Oh loosen up tough guy! At least you’re even now!” She shoots back wiggling her eyebrows at him. Matthew stands frozen in his place. “What are you talking about?”

“Her 17th birthday Matthew, do you actually not remember that?” Macy let’s out an awkward laugh, as she watches the pain on Matt’s face. “She told you that?” Matthew is angry, and he knows he shouldn’t be. Why would you tell his girlfriend about that when you have never even talked to him about it? He’s your best friend.

Macy just nods, slightly scared to actually admit it out loud. Matthew lets out a small ‘oh.’ before leaving the room. He emerges a few minutes later fully clothed to find Macy gathering her things to leave.

“I’m sorry you don’t have to leave.” Matthew mumbles, but he only half means it. Sure he doesn’t want her to leave, but he needs to talk to you. Needs to make this right.

“Go talk to her Matty, seriously. Figure it out, I’m not sure why it made you so upset that she just walked in here. What did you expect? She always does. Set some boundaries maybe? You’re a grown man Matthew, it’s not my job to play the parent and fix whatever is happening here.” Macy huffs, slamming the door just as hard as you had not long before. Why was everyone so upset with him? First Brady, then you, now Macy too? What was he doing wrong? And why did the get so upset about Macy bringing up your 17th birthday?

Matthew tries not to get caught up in his mind too long. Instead he roots through his closet shelves looking for your birthday present. Sure maybe it was 6 years late, but how else could he make up for the awkward night?

———

You are laying on your living room floor when Matthew lets himself into your apartment. “What are you doing on the floor?” Matthew chuckles, leaning against the wall closest to you.

“‘M not sure.” You mumble, unable to look at him. Instead you study a paint chip directly above you. You hear Matthew set something down before he pushes your coffee table a few feet away. He then drops himself next to you rather ungracefully, tucking an arm behind his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t knock.” You say quietly, so quietly in fact Matthew almost doesn’t hear it. He does though and he turns his head to face you.

You turn towards him, taking in his features for the first time since he entered your apartment. The sad smile on his face knocks the wind out of you for a moment, as you get lost in his blue eyes. “When have you and I ever knocked? I should’ve put a sock on the door handle.” He chirps back, sealing it with a wink. You laugh lightly at his comment, and turn your gaze back to the paint chip.

The two of you stay like that for awhile. Staring at a paint chip, in total silence. Your thoughts consuming you, as the tension seems to grow thicker by the second. You’re not sure how long passed before Matthew breaks the silence, but it was long enough that it startled you when he does. “At least we are even now. Though I’m pretty sure you got to see a lot more than I did.”

Lifting yourself up onto your forearms you turn to him again, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I thought you’d forgotten. Or maybe you just didn’t want to talk about it with me because you were so angry. I just can’t believe you talked about it with Macy and not me.” He rambles on, but now it was him refusing to look at you. He looks hurt, and your mind races trying to put the pieces together. Then it hits you.

“My birthday.” You say, more to yourself than Matthew, but he nods finally meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry Matt, I just thought if I told her that story it would ease her mind about us. I was too scared to bring it up to you, and then so much time had passed it felt wrong to even talk about it.” Your confession causes Matthew to look even more confused. “Ease her mind? How would that story ease her mind?”

So you tell him. You tell him about how, like everyone else who has met the two of you, Macy assumed something had happened between you. A kiss. A relationship. A hookup. Something. “So I told her the story so she’d understand that even at 17 you were appalled by the sight of me, and how embarrassed I had been. And I told her that was our one and only ‘intimate’ experience.” You make sure to throw air quotes around the term intimate. Your explanation however, did not seem to make Matthew feel better.

“Are you serious? Not once in my life have I ever been ‘appalled’ by your appearance.” He looks extremely offended as he uses air quotes in the most mocking way possible. “Why would you even think that?” You laugh at that, though there is very little humour behind it.

“Matthew, we were 17. I’m not much to look at now, and back then?” You wince at the mere thought of your 17 year old body. “I certainly never had anything like the girls you were into Matty. I’m not stupid it’s okay.” He stares at you now. Mouth open slightly, eyes scanning your face. Waiting, hoping you’d say you were joking. Admit you didn’t see yourself as less than any girl Matthew had ever been with, but you don’t. Instead you stare right back at him, an emotion swimming in your eyes Matthew can’t quite place.

“You really think I ran away because I was grossed out by that whole encounter?” He askes, and you nod. Your eyes dropping to the floor. Matthew lets out a deep laugh, and falls back against the floor again. “Y/n. That is so incredibly far from the truth! I was embarrassed, so embarrassed that I ran the whole way home and locked myself in my room. I then pleaded with Brady to just go without me, and put my name on his gift because I thought you were mad at me. I thought you looked incredible, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever sprung a boner so fast in my life.” Your stomach flutters at his confession. The thought of Matthew thinking about you like that made the want you’d been pushing down for years start to bubble up again. You can’t bring yourself to respond, instead you pick absentmindedly at a loose thread on your shorts. Matthew lets out a loud groan, pulling himself up off the floor entirely.

“Sorry if that made this weird. I hope you understand that you shouldn’t ever compare yourself to any girl. You’re amazing y/n.” You smile up at him and mumble a thank you. It takes everything in you to will away the tears that begin to form in your eyes. “If you don’t believe my story,” Matthew nods to a small box sitting on the coffee table he’d moved earlier. “that is the birthday present I planned to give you that day. It’s the whole reason I walked into your room that day, I wanted you to have it before everyone else showed up.”

With that, Matthew is gone again. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in the small box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper. Poorly wrapped you might add. You stand up grabbing the box and a blanket. Wrapping yourself tightly in the blanket, you fall back against the couch examining the package closely.

After twenty minutes of staring at it, you peel away the pink paper with trembling fingers. The dark velvet box, has a sticky note stuck to the top. As you read it, the tears start to fall steadily.

Happy Birthday! I hope you know just how much you mean to me. Hopefully this gift will mean that you never forget me. Love you bug xx-Matty

The little heart he drew at the end pulls a sob out of you. Contrary to the sobs now wracking your body, a smile forms on your face. Slowly, you flip open the small box. Gasping loudly, the box slips from your grasp as both hands come to your face. Although moments ago you wouldn’t have thought it possible, you cry harder now. The necklace is simply beautiful. The small golden ‘M’ makes your heart soar, and break simultaneously.

Your mind runs in circles now. Had you received the gift on the day you were intended to, would things be different? The gift seems more than platonic. You need to confide in someone. You had no idea who to call. You can’t call Brady, he wouldn’t understand. You most definitely can’t call Macy.

Without even thinking you pick up your phone and press on one contact. The phone rings as you press it to your ear. “Hello?”

“It’s beautiful Matt, but it’s too much I can’t take this.” Your voice is shaking and you hope he can’t hear it. Your heart is racing, mind spinning, and nausea swirls through you.

“Y/n/n, keep it please. I bought it years ago, I can’t return it. You’re still my best friend and I want you to have it. We are still friends...” Matthew pauses for a moment, “right?”

“Of course!” You say trying to fight off the urge to tell him you aren’t. You of course would always be friends, but you don’t want that anymore. You can’t continue being a third wheel. “Actually that’s why I went over earlier. I wanted to invite you and Macy out to dinner. Tomorrow night. With me and my boyfriend. If you’re free of course!”

You couldn’t sound more awkward if you tried, but Matthew agrees. You make plans to meet at your favourite diner the following evening, and then say goodnight.

Matthew doesn’t need to know that you slipped the gold chain on after hanging up. Just like you don’t need to know Matthew was currently canceling plans he had previously made with Macy.

———

“Matthew this is-“ You start to introduce the two men standing in front of you, but Matthew quickly interrupts.

“Nathan I know. Nice to uh- see you again I guess?” Nathan let’s out an awkward chuckle as he shakes Matthews hand. “Anyways!” You say breaking the awkward silence that fills the space around you. “Where is Macy anyway?” You ask, taking your seat at the table. Both guys follow suit, and Matthews gaze finally falls to you.

“She sends her apologies, something came up with work. You’re stuck with just me tonight.” He says, sending a wink in Nathan’s direction.

“Tkachuk I swear to god. Be a pest on the ice all you want, but can we for once have a civil meal?” You glare at him across the table, and Nathan sets a hand gently on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry babe, he’s just having some fun.” Nathan says reassuringly. You smile at him, but the smile quickly fades when Matthew speaks up again. “Yeah babe, we’re just having fun.” He laughs mockingly.

Dinner continues a lot like that. Back and forth, both men trying to prove something. Nathan trying to prove to Matthew that he isn’t temporary. Matthew trying to prove to Nathan, that Matthew is a constant in your life and can end this in a second if he wanted. Whatever this was. The pair even argue over who would pay the bill. You end up paying it yourself, as you leave the testosterone at the table to battle it out.

Nathan has to get home, as he has work early tomorrow. So of course Matthew takes it upon himself the drive you back home. The ride is silent, and you fiddle with the chain around your neck the whole way. No words are spoken until Matthew puts the car in park. “String bean know you’re wearing my initial?” He smirks, eyes falling to where your hands still tug at the chain.

“What’s your issue with him?” You spit, anger getting the better of you. “I was nothing but accepting of Macy. I befriended her for you Matthew! Why can you not for once just be nice and do this one thing for me?” You don’t wait for his response, instead you throw yourself out of the vehicle. You forego the elevator, choosing instead to take the stairs to get to your apartment as fast as you can. Once there you slam your door, and bang your forehead against the back of the door.

After a moment of just leaning against the inside of the door a small knock sounds from the other side. “Go away.” You grumble, knowing exactly who is on the other side.

“Bug. Please just listen.” He pauses for a moment and you just let out a shaky breath. “I’m scared you’re settling. I want you to be happy, but I get the feeling he’s not it. I’m sorry I was rude, that was a dick move. I just really care about you, and just because I know I could totally take string bean in a fight, doesn’t mean I want to. I know you’re lonely, and you’re feeling like a third wheel. You’re allowed to date Bug, but I want you to be happy and loved. If it’s really string be- Nathan.” He corrects himself, “If it’s really Nathan you want, then great! I’ll apologize to him, and we can move on. But Y/n, I think you and I both know he’s not. Find what you want and go get it. You deserve it.” Tears are flowing silently down your cheeks. Matt is right. Nathan is not what you want, he never will be. It’s Matt, it’s always been Matt.

After a minute or two of trying to compose yourself, you really think about Matthew’s words. Find what you want and go get it. He’s right, how can you ever be happy if you don’t at least try to chase what you want? So with that you fling open your door, ready to run into Matthew’s arms. To tell him how you feel, to tell him that it’s him you want.

As if the world was trying to play a cruel trick on you, it’s not Matt’s arms you’re greeted with. Instead of being held tightly in his warm embrace, you find yourself surrounded by a cold and empty hallway. It’s so quiet, you can practically hear the sound of your heart breaking all over again. You laugh humourlessly at how stupid you feel. You had hoped Matt’s words of encouragement were a sign. A sign that he could see your harboured feelings, and wanted nothing more than for you to act on them.

Matt watches you through the peephole in his apartment door, heart shattering as you shrink back into your apartment. Nothing was fixed. Macy had told him to fix this, but he’d only manage to make it worse.

———

“Why’d you call her that?” Macy presses, moments after her and Matt walk into his apartment. Matthew shrugs, which is not helping the situation. He could just be honest, and tell Macy that he and Brady had always called you bug.

It all started one summer afternoon when you had thrown a total fit after Brady had pointed out a bug had landed in your hair. For months Brady and Matthew would randomly yell ‘BUG!’ while pointing at you to get a reaction. At some point they just started calling you bug. It was stupid and platonic. At least it was for Brady. The way Matthew said it was always different. It gave you butterflies, and Matthew would be lying if he said he didn’t love the pet name.

“It’s just a nickname.” He defends, walking to the kitchen. She follows closely behind him, watching closely as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He leans against the counter taking a long drink, as Macy stands with her arms crossed waiting for more. Matthew was getting frustrated with the whole situation. “Are you seriously upset about me calling her bug?” He asks in disbelief.

Macy shakes her head, laughing humourlessly with a roll of her eyes. “No Matthew. I’m not. It’s a cute little nickname and that’s absolutely fine. It’s the fact that when she’s around you’re different. It’s like you’re scared to stand too close to me, like she might be upset about it. You tiptoe around her, you didn’t even want to tell her about me Matt. Are you ashamed of me?” The emotion evident in Macy’s eyes, is something Matt hasn’t seen from her before. Something he wasn’t expecting.

“Macy, I am not ashamed of you at all. I-it’s just that Y/n has no one in Calgary, and I’ve always been her bestfriend. When I started seeing you I was scared she’d cling to whoever she felt could fill the spot I had to step back from. And she did, and she isn’t happy with him. I’m sorry that you suffered because of it.” He tries to explain, walking to the girl standing in front of him. He grabs her hips and places a kiss to her temple as tears threate to slip down her cheeks.

“I’m your girlfriend Matt. Start acting like it.”

———

“How did it go?” Brady asks, his goofy smile way too close to the screen. He FaceTimed you a few times a month usually. Checking in, on you and Matt both. He knows you had gone to dinner with Matt and Nathan two nights ago now. You know he called looking to say ‘I told you so’, but you know he won’t be able to. This was one time you truly wish he could.

“Uh it. Well, it wasn’t great.” You frown, and Brady’s smile quickly falls as well. “Nathan and I broke up.”

“WHAT!? Do I have to fight a man, because I have done it before and I’ll do it again?” He jokes to lighten the mood that quickly shifted.

“I actually broke up with him...” Brady’s face twists in confusion. Trying to piece together what he’s missing. A week ago you were so stressed out about Matthew not liking this guy, that you didn’t even want them to meet. Now you had broken up with him? Needless to say Brady was baffled. “He wasn’t what I wanted, I was settling.” You mumble a little embarrassed, as you fiddle with the chain that hasn’t left your neck.

“Y/n... you have to move on.” Brady says gently. Certainly not the reaction you were expecting.

“Brady, I’m fine. I broke up with him. I’m over Nathan, honestly there was nothing to get over.” You shake your head, bringing a smile to your face to emphasize the fact you are okay.

“Not Nathan.” Brady sighs shaking his head. It doesn’t make sense, but judging by the serious tone of his voice and the gentle smile. You aren’t going to like where this was going. “You need to get over Matthew.”

The minute the words leave his mouth you want to scream and cry. Tell him he’s wrong, and an asshole for even assuming that. You want to tell him he’s right. To ask him for help. You want to ask him why you have to get over him, and explain that you can’t. You want to ask him so many questions, but only one comes out; “Why have I never been good enough for him Brady?” You’re crying now. No actually, you’re sobbing. You’re inconsolable, and Brady is in Ottawa.

“Y/n it’s not like that.” He doesn’t know how to let you down easy. How can he explain that Matthew loves everything about you, but would never love you the way you love him? How can someone explain that you were exactly what Matthew wants, and that’s why you’ll never be his. Matthew can’t lose you. He can’t wreck what you have. Brady doesn’t know that Matthew used to want you that way. All he knows is that anytime he, Chantal, Taryn, or Keith brought it up Matthew would laugh and say he could never date you. You are his bestfriend. The truth is, Matthew knows he isn’t good enough. Not for you. No one ever will be. You are perfect to him.

“Forget it.” You bark, more aggressively than Brady deserves, but you are hurt. You have never talked to anyone about how you feel about Matthew. Having Brady call you out like that terrifies you. Who else knows? Taryn? Chantal? Does Matthew know? Just the thought of it makes your stomach churn. You immediately end the FaceTime call, not allowing Brady to say anything else.

He tries calling back. You ignore him, just like you ignore the constant stream of texts. He even has Taryn trying to get ahold of you. Of course he does. You shut off your phone, and curl up on your couch. The bad reality tv show playing softly in the background can’t even keep your attention. You instead, stare at the coffee table. It’s still pushed farther to one side of your living room, right where Matt left it. You continue to stare at it, your whole body feeling numb, until finally sleep takes over.

———

Matthew knows something is up as soon as Brady calls him. “What happened Brady?” Matthew asks, concern for you beating out any rational thoughts. He knows how pathetic he sounds, and prays his brother doesn’t pick up on it. As soon as Brady mentions your name, Matthew demands more information, but Brady won’t tell him what happened.

“I’m sure she’s fine Matt, I just upset her and now she won’t answer my calls. Please just check on her and tell her I’m sorry.” Brady says, before abruptly being hung up on. Again.

Matthew quickly makes his way to your door, and lets himself in. Sure he should knock, but he knows if you are upset you likely won’t answer anyway. The sight that meets Matthew when he enters your apartment makes his heart burst. There you are, curled up in a blanket fast asleep, hand clutching the pendant around your neck. He tries his best to stop the feeling in his gut as he realizes how domestic this moment feels.

Matthew gathers you in his arms as gently as he can, and carries you to your bedroom. As he lays you down, you adjust yourself slightly, but it is clear you are out like a light. “You’ll find him bug.” Matt whispers as he places a gentle kiss to your hairline. “The perfect guy is going to come along and sweep you off your feet. You’ll have that big wedding you’ve always wanted, a couple beautiful little babies, and I’ll be there cheering you on. You’re perfect bug, never settle.” Matthew fights back the lump that forms in his throat, as he pushes the hair gently from your face. “I wish it could’ve been me.” He says it so quietly that if you had been awake you still may not have heard him. So he leaves, pushing all those thoughts away and trying to remember that you’ll always be his best friend. Just his best friend.

———

“Well if it isn’t Matthew’s better half!” Mark greets you as you find your way into the backyard. You somehow got an invite to the teams’ end of the season BBQ, and now here you are already getting chirped by the captain.

“Easy there Gio, Matt has a girlfriend now remember?” You joke back with a wink, but you feel a twinge of sadness. You don’t have much time to think about it though, as the captain throws his arm over your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’ve always liked you better though, not sure why he’d pass up on you.” The blush that floods your cheeks makes your whole body feel hot with embarrassment. You know he’s joking, but it does feel good to hear it.

Mark leads you deeper into the yard, as you say hi to everyone. “There she is!” Your head snaps around quickly as you hear Matt’s voice. As soon as your eyes land on him, you notice his are already on you. “Hey Matty!” You greet with a smile as he wraps you in his arms. He smells like sweat and beer, and he refuses to let you out of his grasp. That is until you hear someone clear their throat, and he pulls away awkwardly.

“Macy! How’ve you been?” You greet her with a big smile and pull her into a hug. She responds quietly, and soon after excuses herself to get a drink. You send Matt a questioning look, but he only shrugs and drags you to the beer pong table announcing you are his partner.

That’s how your afternoon goes, beating everyone in beer pong with Matt as your partner. You’re slowly getting tipsy, and subsequently warmer. Peeling your top off, Johnny Gaudreau whistles loudly from across the table. You are wearing a pretty revealing red bikini top, but given the fact you are slightly intoxicated Johnny’s reaction doesn’t bother you. In fact it is welcomed as you send him a wink.

“Hey Gaudreau! How about you stop staring at my friends chest and throw the damn ball?” Matt growls beside you. You bump your hip with his, and furrow your brows at him silently asking if he’s okay. He shakes his head gently in dismissal as he smiles at you.

Macy sits quietly to your left, watching you all play. She watches the way Matt places his hands on your hips to help you get in position. Watches as he lifts you into the air spinning you around after you win a round. Watches as Matthew tries to advert his gaze as you peel your shirt off, his neck turning red, and not because of the hot sun. The straw for Macy was when she seew the emotions on Matt’s face as Johnny hits on you. His entire body tensing, as he grips the edge of the table. Why was he so protective of you? Would Matthew not be happy if two of his best friends dated? It is in that moment that it becomes clear to her. It has nothing to do with him not wanting you to be with Johnny. He wants you to be with him.

———

“Everything okay? You’ve barely said a thing to me all day.” Matt asks when he and Macy finally make it back to his apartment. She sighs loudly, starting to gather anything of hers laying around the apartment.

“You were busy having fun Matt, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. Or anything for that matter.” She responds, though her words only confuse him more. She just sends a soft smile in his direction as she shoves more things into her bag.

“Aren’t you staying?” He asks, a small pout forming on his face. Macy shakes her head, turning toward Matt. Her face is apologetic, but mostly unreadable to Matthew.

“You know you’re in love with her right?” Macy blurts out, and quickly clarifies. “Y/n, you love her.”

“Since when?” Matthew shoots back, way too defensively.

“Since pretty much always. That’s why I’m breaking up with you.” She smiles sadly closing the distance between the two. Placing a small kiss to his cheek, she whispers a small apology.

Matthew opens his mouth to protest, ask her to stay. Tell her she’s wrong, and that he loves her, not you. He can’t though, because it would be a lie. She knows it, and so does he. So he watches as she leaves, an uneasy feeling in his stomach as a single tear falls down his face. What has he done?

———

You decide to take a few summer classes to help make your work load for the upcoming school year a little more manageable. Choosing to stay in Calgary for the summer, instead of traveling back to St. Louis with Matthew to see your family. Matthew tries to convince you to go, but you tell him you can’t. You need some distance from him anyway.

———

It was distance you got. You barely talk to him all summer, and tonight will be the first time you’ve seen him since that night at the BBQ.

“How is Matthew doing?” Elias’ girlfriend Annica asks you, as the two of you take your seats at the home opener. You shrug and sigh taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t know, I’ve barely spoken to him since the BBQ at Gio’s.” You admit, a small frown on your face.

“Wait? Did he not tell you!?” She practically shrieks in your ear. You just give her a confused look, a wide smile stretching across her face. “About him and Macy!”

Immediately your stomach drops. You brace yourself for the announcement. Maybe they’ve moved in together? Got engaged? Having a baby? All of the thoughts make you feel sick, but you smile over at Annica trying to hide your emotions. “No I haven’t spoken to either of them really. What are they finally tying the knot?” You try and joke, but really you’re terrified of the answer. Annica’s face falls slightly. Confusion written all over her face.

“They broke up.” Annica explains in a light tone. Almost as if she was explaining it to a child. “Oh.” Was all you manage to choke out, as Annica watches you. She’s waiting for more of a reaction, but you can only sit in shock. What happened? Why didn’t he tell you? Why did no one tell you?

You can barely sit still through the game, you’re mind is running wild. Why had Matt not talked to you about this? Why had he barely spoken to you at all? Was he okay? Who broke up with who? Why do you care so much? Soon enough though all of your questions will be answered. You are standing next to Annica outside the locker rooms, tapping your foot nervously. She asks if you are okay, and all you can do is nod. Elias makes his way out of the dressing room and over to you. He gives you both a quick hug and you congratulate him on their win. “Matt will be out in a few minutes.” He smiles at you, and you tell the couple to have a good night as they leave. Gio and Johnny both stop to talk to you on their way out.

Johnny hangs back and waits with you. “How was your summer? Finally got a break from the pest I hear.” He teases, leaning against the wall beside you. You smirk up at him, “My summer was great! Significantly quieter than I’m used to, but I enjoyed it. It’s nice to see you again though, how was your summer?” He smiles brightly down at you as he launches into some long story about how crazy his training was. You try to listen, and seem interested, but that becomes significantly harder as Matthew finally comes out of the dressing room.

He is wearing a navy blue suit with a white dress shirt. The top three buttons undone, and his tie just draping loosely around his neck. His hair is damp and falls across his forehead, he is staring at his phone still not having noticed you. He almost walks right past you, but you speak up grabbing his attention. “Any time for your biggest fan hotshot?” His eyes snap up from his phone, a grin replacing his previously shocked expression.

“My biggest fan huh?” He smirks pulling you into a tight hug. You grip onto his suit jacket tightly not wanting to let go as you hum into his chest. “That why you’re wearing that necklace?” He teases and you blush trying to hide your face even further in his chest. “Shut up,” You mumble, “I missed you.” He kisses the top of your head mumbling about missing you too. Johnny clears his throat awkwardly, as you quickly pull away from Matthew.

“Well I’m going to head out now, goodnight you two.” Johnny winks at you as he walks away. You turn back towards Matthew to see him smiling down at you, and your stomach drops. A small frown makes its way onto your face as you remember exactly what you came to talk to Matthew about. “Matt, we need to talk.” His face falls a little bit, but he nods and grabs your hand in his. He starts walking further into the building, and you follow. Eyes trained on your hand in his, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You’re so nervous, that you hardly even realize Matthew is leading you up the steps and into two seats in the top row of the arena. As the two of you sit down, you don’t look at him. Instead you stare down at the ice, now only lit by the emergency lights causing a strange glow. You’ve never seen the arena like this, so quiet and lifeless. Your internal thoughts seem amplified in the silence, but you can’t seem to find the words to say what you’re thinking.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit in silence before Matthew let’s out a sigh, turning towards you. “St. Louis isn’t the same without you.” He says quietly, a sad smile on his face as you finally meet his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Macy?” You blurt out, face heating up in embarrassment once again. Matt stares at you for a moment, before dropping his eyes to his hands that are now fidgeting in his lap.

“I didn’t know what to say.” He mumbles out, playing with his fingers. You shake your head and sigh, pulling your eyes away from the distracting movements of his hands. You decide to examine the ice once again, wrapping your arms across your chest. You’re trying to brace yourself for how badly this might end.

“You didn’t know how to tell your best friend you broke up with your first really serious girlfriend?” Your voice is probably too accusatory, but you’re hurt. How can he keep so much of his life from you? Your mind is running in circles as you wait for a response, attempting to hold yourself tighter.

“Yeah like it’s that easy!” Matthew’s voice is significantly more angry than you are expecting, and your heart rate increases immediately. “I say ‘We broke up.’ And then you ask a million questions about what happened and why, I didn’t know how to say it!”

You look at him now. His eyes are glossy, and his face is red. In anger or embarrassment? Who knows, maybe both. “Matty, I know you really cared about her. It’s not easy to talk about, but if you’re going to move on you have to talk to someone.” You make sure to keep your voice gentle as you speak, “I want to be that person for you Matt, but if I’m not that’s okay. Just please talk to someone, you can’t stay broken forever.”

Matthew laughs at you, but it doesn’t make you feel better. The laugh is humourless, and you can hear the lack of emotion behind it. “That’s the part I can’t explain Y/n, you don’t get it! I’m not broken about it, and I should be! I was in love!” He’s frustrated now, as he runs his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Matthew, it’s okay. People fall out of love all the time!” You place a hand on his bicep to try and sooth him. It seems to work as you feel his muscles relax under your touch. He sighs softly beside you, as he lifts his eyes to meet yours once again.

“I didn’t fall out of love, I’m still in love.” Your brows furrow in confusion, as you search his eyes for any clue about what could be going on inside his head. “Just not with Macy.”

“T-there’s someone else?” You are taken aback, and now your mind is spinning. Did he cheat on Macy? Who is she? Matthew just nods in response. “Have I met her? Oh my god please don’t tell me it’s like one of the WAGs or something!” You are rambling uncontrollably, unable to comprehend what Matthew is trying to say. “Matthew did you cheat on Mac-“ Thankfully he was quick to cut you off.

“It’s you.”

You freeze. Eyes practically popping out of your skull, you open and close your mouth repeatedly. Sure you might look like a fish out of water, but that’s exactly how you feel. You must have misheard what he is saying. Right? The ‘you’ had to be someone else. The look Matthew is giving you right now though, a look of total honesty, a look that is teetering on the edge of disappointment. That look tells you all you need to know. He means you. He is in love with you.

“Since when?” You croak out. Your entire body is trembling with nerves, still terrified he will take it back. Maybe you’re being punked.

Matthew leans closer to you, uncrossing your arms that were still wrapped tightly across your chest. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as he takes your trembling hands in his. His hands feel different now, softer. They are so much bigger than your own, and you’ve never noticed until now just how right they felt wrapped around your own.

Matthew releases on of your hands, as he brings one to your chin. He tilts your head so you’re looking into his eyes again. “Since always.” He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours. You subconsciously lick your lips, and Matthew takes that as a sign to lean in. His lips hover just above yours, but he doesn’t close the gap.

“Matty-“ you whine quietly, and he smirks in response.

“What’s wrong bug?” He’s teasing you now, and he knows it.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment since the tenth grade, please just kiss me!” Your pleads are finally answered as Matthew finally presses his lips to yours. It’s firm and certain, and intoxicating. Gripping his suit jacket, you pull him closer deepening the kiss even more. Matthew groans against your lips, one hand cradling your neck, the other gripping your hip tightly.

The kiss starts getting more intense, the years of built up tension and pining being shared in this one kiss. Matthew, despite not wanting to stop, pulls away first. Your lips chase his, not wanting the moment to end. Scared that when it does, you’ll wake up. Like this is all a dream. Or even worse, it’ll end, and Matthew tells you he was wrong.

“Easy tiger!” He chuckles, tucking some hair behind your ear. Matthew is positive you’ve never looked so beautiful. You’re lips are pink and swollen, face flushed lightly, and your eyes are big and bright as they look into his.

“Did you mean it?” You ask quietly, “When you said that you loved me, because Matty I can’t do this if you aren’t in. I can’t lose you.” Tears are stinging your eyes now, as your voice cracks with emotion. You can’t lose your best friend, and that has become more clear to you after not being with him all summer.

“I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you want.” He looks at you hopefully. Your heart is beating so loudly in your chest, you’re almost positive he can hear it.

“Matthew of course this is what I want. I’ve always wanted you.” You pause momentarily, as you see a small smile spread across his face. His dimples now on full display. “I love you Tkachuk. I always have.”

He wastes no time kissing you again. Your hands tangle in his hair that’s still slightly damp, and his hands cup both of your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles against your lips. You push him back, so you can look at him.

“Why are you apologizing?” You’re confused now, as you immediately begin building your walls back up. You’re waiting now, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know this felt too perfect.

“Because,” he sighs, shoulders slumping under your gaze. “I should have done that so long ago. Instead I let you think you weren’t good enough. I let you go on believing that I didn’t love you. Brady told me about what you said, about not being good enough. I hope you know now that it was never like that. You are, if anything, too good for me. I was scared, and stupid, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your heart breaks a little for him. You can see the remorse and guilt written all over his face. “Well Matthew. I can accept that apology under one condition.” You say teasingly, running your hand over his shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You take me out on a date.”

Matthew smiles brightly down at you, and places a soft kiss to your forehead. “On one condition.” He whispers, lips still pressed against your skin. “You let me take you out as my girlfriend.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re just a big sap Tkachuk?” You smirk. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so happy.

“Actually my girlfriend has, just now. She’s kinda cute.” You slap his chest playfully and roll your eyes.

“Take me home Tkachuk.” You announce, pushing yourself to your feet. Matthew copies your actions, adding a little salute to make you laugh. It does the job, and Matthew has you laughing the whole way to his car. As he opens the door for you, you lean into his chest pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“You’re perfect.” Matthew says after the two of you are finally settled in to your respective seats in his car.

“Since when?” You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Always.”