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angelmavmurdock · 4 years ago

Text

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland smuts #Smut #tom holland smut #stoner au #innocent au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff #fluff #ginny and marcus #oneshot

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rinkrats · 4 years ago

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🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops.

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid.

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,” says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.”

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

#anyway this was a nice walk down memory lane after the disastrous game rip #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #hockey #text

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theunholygrails · 3 years ago

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Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

#percy jackson smut #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson #logan lerman smut #logan lerman fanfiction

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sehunniepotwrites · 4 years ago

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let’s break the ice | m.l | one

🏒 SYNOPSIS— in which you’re attending your college team’s hockey practice with your best friend and embarrassment ensues. 🏒 GENRE— fluff, humor, crack, college!au, hockey!au 🏒 PAIRING— hockey captain!mark lee x reader 🏒 WORD COUNT— 1.4k 🏒 WARNINGS— sexual innuendos made!

🏒 AUTHOR’S NOTE—i would like to thank whitney for tweeting the inspiration for this fic and my chaotic ass group chat for all the ideas. i also know nothing about hockey. (read through it twice to edit but i might’ve missed some errors!)

(11/27/2020: edit! surprise! it’s now a mini-series!)

| next >

It’s so cold in the rink but your face is flushing as you blatantly stare at the hockey team gearing up for practice. You don’t exactly understand how the sight of college hockey players gets you riled up but hey, they’re delicious eye candy and their games are extremely entertaining, so you’re one hundred percent here for it.

They’re so close but so far— close enough to hear their conversations but far enough to be separated by the glass.

You’re practically sinking in your seat, ogling the handsome boys hunched over the player’s bench, and Jaemin is shaking your head at you. He pretends to swipe at your lips and then rubs his hand on his pants. “You’re drooling, missy,” he chuckles at how shamelessly you’re admiring the players who also happen to be his close friends.

Bringing up a sleeve to wipe your mouth with your sleeve, you peek down to see nothing wet staining the material. You shoot your best friend a deadpanned look and he snorts at your reaction. “I didn’t bring you along to fawn over this lot of idiots, you know,” he says with a raised brow.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off with your hand, eyes still glued to the players on the bench. You spot Jeno looking in your direction and he smiles at you before the brightest grin breaks out on his face upon seeing Jaemin.

“You brought me to be the third wheel for dinner tonight; what a great best friend you are, Nana.” Turning to your side, you see Jaemin waving at his boyfriend with a matching grin. You’re almost jealous at the fact that Jaemin had found love in such an amazing guy like Jeno and you constantly find yourself wishing for something just as great as their relationship.

“I could always introduce you to one of the guys on the team and invite them too if you want,” Jaemin nudges your side and you laugh at his suggestion. You debate on taking up that offer, knowing your meddling best friend would actually do that for you, before declining it. “Break the ice and your streak of being single.”

“Nah,” you say, “they’re all cute but I think the only one I would actually be interested in is the cap.”

Captain Mark Lee— your university’s golden boy. He’s the unbelievably endearing third year that’s dedicated to both his sport and his major. He can easily win your heart through the love songs he composes on his guitar and the sound of his sweet voice. If you meet him on the rink, however, you’ll find yourself going against a beast— his level of competitiveness is off the charts, and the concentrated glare his brown eyes give off is something no one wants to experience.

You’ve seen both sides of him, being in his major’s cohort and a close friend of the hockey team, and it somehow led you to crushing on Mark. But really, who wouldn’t?

“Ah, yes, the golden boy,” Jaemin hums. You hear shuffling coming from the steps behind you and you shrug it off as one of the other players heading in late. Probably Yangyang— that boy always loses track of time.

“Hmm, yeah,” you sigh, dropping your head to lean on Jaemin’s shoulder. “Mark could honestly slam me against a shield guard and I would say ‘thank you.’”

Before Jaemin could reply, you hear a yelp followed by the loudest thud come from the concrete steps. You and Jaemin turn to find Mark sprawled out on the staircase, his bag and hockey stick tumbling down to the player’s area.

Mark looks up at you with widened eyes from his spot on the steps like a deer caught in headlights. There’s a bright shade of red that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck and you’re sure you’re mirroring his embarrassing state. You can’t believe he actually heard you say that.

Jaemin and the other boys on the team snicker at the awkward situation and you just want to dig a hole into the ground and jump into it.

“Oh my god,” you squeak out. You’re gripping Jaemin’s sleeve, fingernails digging into his arm as he continues to cackle at your misery.

““Oh, um, um, I don’t think t-that’s a good idea, like, that hurts, like a lot,” Mark replies, flustered as a boy could ever be. He tugs on his earlobe before his hand rubs the back of his reddening neck.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Why is this happening? And why is he so cute?

“Yeah, right, of course,” you breathe out, biting your bottom lip before looking to Jaemin for help. He does nothing of the sort and continues to laugh at your misfortune. Some best friend he was.

“Nice to see you here today,” Mark says, his voice cracking at the end and he clutches his throat at the unexpected break. It sends your best friend and the players into another laughing fit and you glare at them for reeling in Mark’s embarrassment. The captain runs his fingers through his blond hair and gives you an awkward smile before gathering his belongings and making his way down to his team. You hear him muttering something to himself but it was too low for you to catch.

As soon as he makes it to the bench, his teammates slap him across the back and you see Ten ruffling his hair. A childish whine leaves his lips as they continue to tease him and you can’t help but smile at how close they seem.

Jeno whispers something to Mark, causing the captain to sneak another peek at you. You meet his eyes and you both look away with heated cheeks.

The teasing continues to go on as Mark laces up his skates and takes off his blade guards but it all halts when his facial expression changes into something more serious. His voice drops in pitch as he commands the team to start making their way to the ice and it sends butterflies flying about in your stomach.

Something inside you wishes he talked to you in that voice and suddenly, your imagination is running wild. Jaemin, noticing how quiet you are, shifts his gaze from his boyfriend to you and shakes his head at that hopeless grin that’s taken over your lips.

“You’ve seen how incredibly clumsy Mark is and you still want him to smash you against the shield guard?” your best friend questions.

You’re a bit out of it when you reply, “I mean I want him to smash something else but that works, too.” Jaemin is bubbling with laughter at what your words are hinting. You grin at him and he playfully shoves the side of your head.

You watch as Jaemin cups his hands around his mouth and you realize what he’s about to do a second too late. “Hey Cap!” he yells. Mark nods your way as he steps closer to the ice, letting Jaemin know that he’s listening. He slips his helmet on, making sure it’s nice and secure.

“She said she still wants to smash; you up for it or nah?” your best friend shouts loud enough for the whole rink to hear.

One moment Mark is stepping on the ice, the next he is slipping. He falls face flat on the cold surface and instead of checking on their beloved captain, the boys are laughing their asses off, using their sticks as support to hold up their shaking bodies. He groans in pain and you wince, two bad falls within ten minutes must hurt.

“Everything is cool, it’s cool,” Mark says to no one as he pushes himself off the ice. He looks up at you and you catch him nibbling on his lip through the wire cage.

“I mean, we would have to break the ice first but why not?” he manages to shout back before skating away to bark warm-up commands to the other players. His teammates ignore his calls, choosing to skate over to tease their captain. They playfully whack him with their sticks and Mark’s yelling at them to focus on their warm-up exercises.

Mark’s unexpectedly smooth words leave you in a bumbling mess, hands coming up to feel how fast your heart is racing against your chest. Your head is filled with Mark and only Mark.

“Wow,” Jaemin says with raised brows. He smirks at you, “Guess your wildest dreams of being smashed against the shield are so close to coming true.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Nana,” you say, fighting back a smile.

God, you love hockey.

#neowritingsnet #mark lee #mark scenarios #mark imagines #mark fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #let’s break the ice

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

the times with a little secret...

two blurbs following want you to want me

read the rest here!

You were late.

Historically, as someone who got their period at the same time every month, it was concerning. You counted on your fingers, taking yourself back to a time Matthew was awfully convincing and you slipped up. You were sitting out of the same dock you kissed him for the first time on, Matthew’s stupid smirk and overgrown curls were really all it took to make you forget all about the fact that you weren’t using protection. You sigh, holding back tears and running your hands down your face.

Matthew wanted to be a father, but talking a bunch of shit when he was in a sappy mood and actually having a baby were two very different things. You’d been together for two years, and in that time you’d grown up together, but children just seemed like something you weren’t ready for yet. He had so much to work for still, and so did you.

And when you finally got that test, the little pink plus sign broke you. You were pregnant, and you were all alone in Chicago while Matthew got a few things ready before he headed to Calgary for the season. Matthew would call soon, just like he always did on his ride home from the rink.

Matthew knew something was wrong, just by the first crack in your voice when he answered. You’d been crying and he was going to figure out why. He scratched his face, eyes staring at the road in front of him while a part of him debated how quickly he could get to Chicago, “You alright pretty girl?”

“Yeah, everything’s just, fuck, fine,” You say, wiping away your tears and knocking that test to the floor. You weren’t convincing by any means, and Matthew saw through every facade you had, “I’m fine, really I just, uh got to go-”

Matthew opened his mouth to protest, push you a little hard to tell him what’s going on but before he had a chance you hung up the phone. He hit his steering wheel, frustrated that you weren’t telling him the truth when that was the promise you both made. He wondered if he’d done something wrong, but for once in his life Matthew really thought he was innocent.

So he drove the four hours.

It took him a little longer than expected, but Matthew knew what he had to do. He turned his car in the opposite direction of your house, heading up to Chicago without a second thought. It was seven by the time he’d gotten there, opening the door to an empty apartment and a pit in his stomach he couldn’t quite explain. He searched the place, looking for something to point him in the right direction as to why you were acting so weird on the phone.

You went running, you didn’t know what else to do so you just ran. If you kept going you wouldn’t have to face the reality that there was a person growing inside of you and your entire life was going to change. It didn’t stop your mind from racing, thinking about having to tell Matthew and how you were going to tell your families. He wouldn’t leave, you were almost sure of it, but what if he did? It was all you could think about when you walked back into your place, your eyes catching a familiar tuft of curls in the living room.

Matthew was standing there, the entire apartment filled up with bouquets of flowers because he couldn’t pick just one. He was happy, eyes brimming with tears when he finally saw you because this was going to be a moment he never forgets, “Hi.”

“Hi,” You breathe out, feet planted to the floor because you just couldn’t process this fast enough.

“I knew something was up, and then I found the test in the bathroom,” Matthew explains, stepping across to the room to stand in front of you. His hands were on your cheeks, his thumbs gently grazing over the skin, “I didn’t think it was possible to love you more, but babe, I think I do.”

“I’m really scared,” You whisper, letting Matthew wipe away your tears.

“I’m sure you are,” Matthew hums, pressing his lips to your forehead. You found out alone, Matthew was miles away and he knew you were probably freaking out, “I’m here now, we’re together, and it’s going to be okay.”

You smile at his optimism, the way no matter what Matthew would tell you that he would always be there and he’d go to the ends of the earth to fix whatever made you upset, “You sound so sure about this-”

“You’re the best teammate I’ve ever had,” Matthew was sure of himself when he said it, “And I don’t want to do this life thing with anyone else.”

“We’re having a baby,” You nod, Matthew’s hands falling to your stomach and resting there gently, “I’m happy you’re on my team.”

“I’m happy too, captain,” Matthew winks, playing into that same silly joke he always made about how he was just along for the ride, “Can we keep it a secret for now? Just our little family?”

Our little family. The words felt so right when you heard them from Matthew, your arms wrapping around his waist so you could press your head against his chest.

“Brady’s going to give you so much shit for knocking me up.”

“Oh I know, it’s going to be brutal, but worth every second Mama.”

***

Daddy’s hiding something from you.

You stop, turning your attention to your three year old who was sitting at the kitchen island playing with a Cheerio that was in his bowl. Max talked a lot for his age, and it came with a bad habit of repeating his father’s colorful language. Another thing was Matthew couldn’t sneak anything past you because of Max, who was just as nosey as you were, and Max ratted out his father every chance he had.

“What’s daddy hiding from me?” You ask, watching the way Max turned his attention to something else because he was in cahoots with his father and swore he wouldn’t tell a soul, “Maxy-”

“No, daddy told me not to tell you, not even for chocolate,” Max crosses his arms, standing his ground as much as a toddler could, “He said, hide this until I tell you Maxy, but don’t tell mommy.”

You furrow your brows, turning your head and wondering what the fuck your son was hiding that you hadn’t found yet. Your attention turned to the sound of your front door opening, Matthew barreling in post practice with a smile on his face like he wasn’t turning your son into a stealth liar and it would end up biting you both in the ass when he got older. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, sneaking behind Max and kissing him too. The two of them looked like twins, the same mop of curls on their heads while Max’s dimpled smile appeared the biggest when he was with his dad. His nineteen chain hung around his neck, Matthew’s gift to his son because you both wore it and he hoped Max would too. He was Matthew’s carbon copy, down to his ability to sneak things past you and cause chaos.

“Max was just telling me you’re hiding something from me,” You smirk, leaning against the counter and looking at Matthew, “Care to explain?”

“Dude,” Matthew scoffs, looking at Max, “I thought we agreed this was a no telling mommy deal?”

“Like when we get ice cream after my skating lessons?” Max asks, turning his head to his father. Matthew threw his head back, sighing at the fact that you definitely weren’t going to say yes now.

“I knew you weren’t hitting traffic every week,” You sigh, giving Matthew a look, “No bribes for hockey, we talked about this.”

And you did. Sometime before Max was born you both had a lengthy conversation about the whole sports thing. One professional athlete for a parent would be a lot for a kid, let alone two, and you both promised you wouldn’t push your own agendas too hard. Did you cheer a little louder at Max’s soccer games? Maybe. But, at least you didn’t bribe him with ice cream on the way home.

“Hey buddy, remember that thing I told you to hide? Can you get it?” Matthew ignores your lecture, knowing fully he wasn’t listening anyways because Max was made to skate. Matthew helped him down, smiling at the toddler who was bound for the playroom you put off cleaning, that’s why you didn’t find it.

“You’re not off the hook for the ice cream, why are you looking at me like that?” You stop, remembering the way Matthew looked at you in your apartment filled with flowers after he found out you were pregnant. It was the same look, blue eyes soft and full of admiration, “Matty-”

“I know we did this a little backwards, and I wanted to wait until your parents were in town to celebrate, but Max has got a mouth like yours,” Matthew starts stepping over to you and putting his hands on your cheeks, “But that’s my point, I love that Max is just like you because you’re the best person I’ve ever met in life. You’re the most amazing mother to our son, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the way you handle parenthood with more grace than I could ever have. And to me, god, you were everything I ever wanted when we were kids Y/N, you know that? You still are, and you’re always going to be. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to watch you shine, and take you home at the end of the night. I told my mom I’d marry you one day, I’m hoping you’ll give me the chance.”

By the time Matthew had finished his speech, in the middle of your kitchen in Calgary while Max’s cereal was thrown across the counter, your son had come back with a velvet box in his hand. He handed it to Matthew, climbing on Matthew’s leg because he had no clue while his father was down on one knee, but you knew, “Go ahead little dude, you can ask her now.”

“Mommy, will you marry daddy?” Max asks, giving you the very best smile your three year old could come up with. You could tell they practiced this, only solidifying the million reasons why you’d say yes.

“Yes,” You nod, covering your mouth while tears were brimming your eyes. You look at your two boys, who both looked at you like you put the sun in the sky just for them. Matthew let Max down, pressing a kiss to your lips like he wasn’t in the room.

“I love you,” Matthew breathes, pressing one more peck to your lips, “Wifey sounds good doesn’t it?”

“It does,” You hum, admiring the ring Matthew slipped on your left hand he left vacant for a little too long. Life was hectic for you, but he was tired of waiting for the right time when he knew he had the right girl the entire time. You pressed one more kiss to Matthew’s lips, hearing a protest from the little boy below you.

“Ew, that’s gross.”

“One day you’re gonna like a girl this much and Uncle Brady and I are going to make fun of you for it Maxy.”

#matthew tkachuk #blurbs #want you to want me blurbs #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #i'm not saying these are my favorite but i cried while writing both

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hualianff · 3 years ago

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Ice Skating AU

The road to the Olympics was quite lonely for figure skater XL. XL’s parents supported his dreams at the expense of his health and mental wellbeing. XL’s coach, JW, purposefully isolated XL from other competitors, which further distanced XL from the peers who were envious of his talent and achievements.

After the Olympics–XL winning silver, much to the public’s pride–he suffered from detrimental injuries as a result of being overworked and malnourished; JW had put him on a strict diet and training schedule that was ultimately unsustainable. It took over a year for XL to successfully settle a lawsuit with minimal media coverage and monetary consequences.

Three years have passed since he retired. XL currently owns his own rink, teaching kids and adult skating classes on the side.

When XL competed, everything was so stiff and uptight. It got to the point where he wasn’t enjoying it and came to resent the sport in the end. When XL teaches, however, he gets to laugh with his students. He happily lends them a hand when they need it (unlike JW, who was harsh and trained him as if he were a machine). He celebrates with a student every time they land an improving pirouette, relishes in the pure joy in their eyes.

That’s how ice skating should be. Challenging but always fun.

Now, XL truly loves the managing and teaching aspect of the new role ice skating plays in his life. Owning a rink also allows XL to occasionally indulge in his old skills and routines. With no pressure to perform for anybody but himself, XL is free.

HC, a film grad school student, is forced to take a skating class after losing a bet with HX. HX’s partner, who had come up with the consequence on HX’s behalf, suggested a place called Wings, claiming they are “just trying to promote a fellow friend’s business.”

HC almost didn’t follow through with the penalty. He already knew how to skate. (His natural ability to quickly pick up any athletic activity is envied by all his friends.) Upon seeing just who the teacher was, however, HC reconsidered.

After all, losing a bet is no joke.

HC attends the evening class. He wears tight-fitting jeans and a maroon, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. The film student asks for extra help on his form despite knowing there’s not much to fix.

Understandably, XL is a bit baffled how this one tall, handsome stranger keeps asking to be guided into the correct position and spotted while skating across the rink when it seems he’s capable of balancing on his own. But XL is in no way complaining! And if XL happens to stare directly at HC’s small yet perky ass as he skates behind the taller man in case HC crashes, no one has to know.

One week passes. Then another. And another.

One month later, HC keeps coming back for classes.

“San Lang, you don’t have to pay for any more classes. You already skate well enough on your own!” XL informed his newest regular with a knowing smile.

“But then I won’t get to see Gege as often,” HC insisted with that charismatic smirk of his. XL hoped his face didn’t give away how flustered he was on the inside.

“W-well, the rink is not very busy one hour till closing time. You could always come in to practice. And I can watch you from the side!” XL said, looking off to the side. “Free of charge,” he added.

HC tilted his head, pondering. “Hmm, that sounds lovely. You’ll skate with me too?”

“Haha, sure! If there’s no one else on the rink,” XL laughs.

HC nodded. “Fair enough. However, I will be paying the amount I owe Gege. You cannot convince me otherwise.”

“San Lang-“

“No exceptions, Gege!”

They’re so close, XL realized. HC leaned forward on the counter which is the only barrier separating them from touching chests. XL allowed himself a couple glances at the muscled pec straining against the fabric of HC’s shirt.

“Well, San Lang can pay me back in a different way, m-maybe?” the former Olympian suggested. HC quirked an elegant eyebrow. He really was too pretty for XL’s poor heart to handle.

“Oh? What does Gege have in mind?”

Ignoring how suggestive HC sounded just then, XL built up the courage to utter one word: “Dinner?”

Much to XL’s surprise, HC visibly malfunctions by choking on his own spit, as if he hadn’t expected XL to be so forward. HC clears his throat right after, sputtering a measly, “O-oh?” 😳

XL doesn’t say anything else. He stands motionless while waiting for the younger man’s answer. 🥺

Luckily, XL doesn’t have to wait more than ten seconds before HC composes himself, standing back and placing his palms on the counter, satisfied.

“Dinner is perfect.”

XL: 🥰

HC: 😇

Things only got better when HC came around. Suddenly, XL wasn’t alone every night he closed. HC diligently visited every night he could when school and work permitted. They skate together as promised, HC commenting how generous XL is for offering special “private lessons.” XL is positive HC makes these innuendos on purpose and selfishly hopes HC doesn’t say them to anyone else but XL.

Funnily enough, XL has made his own fair share of innuendos–though completely unintentional.

(XL while skating with HC: “You’re doing so well, San Lang. Go faster!”

HC, raising an eyebrow: “Gege likes things faster?”

XL: 😳😳 “EEEK, I mean the speed you’re going at. I-it’s too slow-“

HC: *nods* “Whatever Gege wishes.” *winks at XL before zooming away*

XL, chasing HC: “Wait, how are you moving so quickly!?”)

(HC falls ill on a Friday when he would normally visit the rink. With no meds and a killer headache, HC texts XL to cancel their lesson.

XL: “San Lang, do you need medicine? I’ll come for you”

HC: “Gege 😳😳😳”

XL: “TO***** My finger slipped 😅”

HC: “Gege is getting quite bold now, isn’t he?”

XL: “San Lang!”)

***

It all boils down to a game of tag that got a little too competitive. It’s HC’s turn to tag XL. They’re zipping around the rink like flashes of light, the sound of their laughter echoing throughout the open space. Where XL is elegant yet sharp as he evades his pursuer, HC is aggressive and heavy as his skates dig into the ice in his haste catch XL.

“Gege is too fast for this poor San Lang. It’s too unfair,” HC complains, though he has no reason to as he gains up on XL for the third time.

“Ahhh, no no noooo!” XL shrieks as he’s chased into a corner by a sneaky HC. In his attempt to turn around to escape, XL is crowded against the clear divider between the rink and the lounge space by a smirking HC. One last duck is countered by HC rushing forward to lightly secure his hands around XL’s waist.

XL’s breath quickens as HC slowly leans down, a certain tenderness behind his eye that makes XL positively melt inside.

“Caught you,” HC mutters, his long braid falling haphazardly down his right shoulder. XL shyly looks down, pinned by HC’s inquisitive stare. A large hand comes to gently grip his chin, lifting his head to meet HC’s face. “Do I get a reward?”

“What does San Lang desire?”

HC’s eye flickers down to XL’s lips. XL’s eyelids lower in understanding. And relief. Then, under some unknown source of confidence, XL lifts his chin invitingly.

“It's your reward to claim,” he whispers. HC’s face splits in shock before morphing into an awed expression. He cautiously nudges XL’s nose with his own, making XL instinctually smile.

“Gege has indeed become bolder,” HC utters.

He promptly seals their lips, which curiously meld together before separating. A tentative peck. XL is the one to slant their mouths together again, pulling HC down by the lapels of his jacket. They experiment as they press together, pull apart, then meet once more in delicious bliss.

XL hums as HC takes control of the pace. The taller man holds XL close, caressing his waist as they languidly make out against the divider. XL whimpers as HC cups his cheek lovingly. There’s a warm brush against the seam of XL’s mouth. He gladly parts his lips, welcoming the sensual slide of HC’s tongue inside. HC doesn’t let up, eagerly licking along every hollow and crevice of XL’s mouth.

When XL playfully nips at HC’s upper lip, HC firmly presses XL against the divide, grunting as he’s provoked. Another cheeky nibble has HC pulling away, raising a challenging eyebrow at XL. Using the diversion to his advantage, XL surges up to wrap his arms around HC’s shoulder, running the flat of his tongue over HC’s lower lip before coaxing him into another sweet kiss. HC smiles approvingly, allowing XL to lead.

HC gradually shifts their weight so he skates backward, guiding them around the rink as they unhurriedly explore each other’s mouths. The scuffling of their skates paired with the slick sounds of their kissing serves as their own music and rhythm. XL surrenders to HC’s movements by resting most of his weight against the taller man.

“I knew you knew how to skate this whole time,” XL murmurs against HC’s lips. HC chuckles as he traces XL’s cupid’s bow, then places a chaste kiss to XL’s cheek.

“Always so perceptive, gege.”

“Hmm, it’s hot,” XL says without thinking. HC smiles in amusement as he switches to skating in circles, gaze never leaving XL.

“What is?”

“You skate with the confidence of a pro,” XL answers. He steals another kiss to HC’s lips, eyes crinkling as he smiles happily.

“Good thing I had the best teacher.”

“Oh, stop it, San Lang-“

“Make me.”

XL puffs his cheeks out in faux annoyance. But he can’t hold back a beaming grin as HC mimics his expression, over-exaggerating the pout that makes him look like a child whose candy was snatched out of his hands.

“If you insist,” XL sighs. He gives no other warning as he pounces, winding his legs around HC’s waist. HC effortlessly catches XL by underneath his thighs, pliant as XL crashes their lips together, hungry for much more.

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #modernau #fluff #figure skater xl #film student hc #first kiss

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wonder-womans-ex · 4 years ago

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See It In Your Eyes

The sequel to ‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

When Finn O'Hara was eleven years old, he got two things for Christmas: an Iron Man action figure and a telling off. There were probably other things, too, but in ten years (or eleven, or twelve, or even thirty for that matter) he wouldn't be able to remember them.

But the action figure had been the one he'd eyed in the toy store window for the past seven months, and the telling off had been from his Aunt Isla.

"There are two things you must never ask a lady," she had scolded. "Her age, and to see the mark on her wrist. Remember that, Finnegan."

(For the record, he hadn't asked to see her wrist. He had asked her to pass him the stuffing, and he'd said "What's that?" when her sleeve got bunched up around her elbow.) (Not like she cared.)

***

When Logan Tremblay was eleven years old, he nearly broke his jaw. One of the boys on his team tied his shoelaces together after practice and he fell and smashed his face on the locker room bench.

After three and a half hours in the ER, he met his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, cheek swollen comically huge, and thought, don’t let it get to you, even though it already had.

***

When Leo Knut was eleven years old, he got his first job. Sure, it was only a paper route, but to Leo, it was everything. Not only was he making money (real, actual money; his dad couldn’t tell him his Monopoly skills were just pure luck anymore) but he was the first in his family to learn anything interesting. One morning, halfway through his rounds, he flipped to the sports page. The words Local Team Manager Loses Job over Sexuality glared up at him.

At lunchtime, when his parents asked about the news lately, he merely shrugged and took another bite of his taco.

***

When Finn O’Hara was fifteen years old, he fell in love for the first time. Not with a person, no, but no one could deny that he was in love—by the fourth rewatch of Mamma Mia, his mother was resigned to promising him extra dessert if he would please, for the love of God, just sing anything else.

***

When Logan Tremblay was fifteen years old, he and his sister Noelle woke up at five in the morning on April Fool’s to rig their house. Noelle, admittedly, was behind most of it, but Logan came up with five spectacular (if he did say so himself) pranks: baking soda in the cereal and vinegar in the milk, which caused his father’s breakfast to fizz and explode the moment he poured it out; semi-permanent hair dye in his mother’s shampoo (her hair kept the blue tint for almost a month); all the hard-boiled eggs in the fridge swapped out for raw ones and vice versa; glue in his father’s shaving cream; and, just because he felt like it, all the toilet paper in the house hidden in the downstairs freezer. The day was a bright spot in a patch of darkness—it had been only a week before that he had found the tumblr post about anxiety symptoms and thought, maybe…

***

When Leo Knut was fifteen years old, he quit baseball—for good this time. His coach was confused as to why anyone would give up an 84 mph fastball and a glove that could catch any pop fly in favour of the ice, but Leo was sure. Hockey was his destiny. The pitcher’s mound had nothing to offer him, not anymore.

***

When Finn O’Hara was eighteen years old, he met Logan Tremblay. His first thought—though he would not accept it until years later—was, He has very nice lips. I would like to kiss them. His second, mere moments later, was, Wait shit no fuck no dammit shit fuck.

***

When Logan Tremblay was eighteen years old, he began to wonder who his soulmate was. Maybe she would have coffee-brown eyes and a gap between her front teeth, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head. Maybe she would be taller, with wide hips and sharp elbows and long eyelashes.

He tried to shake his fantasies of fiery red hair and gorgeous grins, because Logan was a hockey player and hockey players weren’t queer.

***

Leo Knut is eighteen years old, and he is being pulled down a dimly lit hallway by Finn O’Hara. His wrist is warm beneath Finn’s grasp, his heart beating a little too fast for his liking.

“Where are we going?” Logan asks from his place at the end of Finn’s other arm, but he gets no answer.

Finally, they reach what Leo assumes is their destination: the…. Well, Leo isn’t sure where they are, actually. Some sort of storage room, he guesses, judging by the net in the corner.

He still has no idea why they’re there.

Logan is looking at Finn expectantly, a curious expression on his face. He looks like he knows what’s happening, and the thought bites at Leo’s heart. Great—he’s the only clueless one here.

Finn takes a deep breath, and then another. “Hi,” he begins, and then stops.

Not sure which of them he should look at, Leo focuses on a spot on the wall between Logan’s and Finn’s heads. He senses one of them watching him. He doesn’t check which it is.

“So,” Finn tries again. “Ugh. I’m bad at this.”

“What exactly is ‘this’?” Logan’s brow, when Leo sneaks a glance at him, is furrowed, only a sliver of green eyes visible beneath his squint.

There’s a thunk as Finn lets his head fall back against the wall. “This is me finally deciding to man up and tell you I’m in love with you.”

Leo’s head turns to look at Logan so fast his neck hurts. He sees Logan blink once, and then twice.

***

Finn meets Logan’s eyes. He can practically feel the electricity crackling between them.

Because Logan knows.

He has to.

He has to know that Finn’s heart nearly beats out of his chest every time Logan smiles. He has to know that sometimes he’ll be talking to someone, anyone—Cap, or Coach Weasley, or the press—and he’ll think about Harvard and he’ll forget how to breathe. Logan is half of Finn’s heart.

But whether or not Logan knows it, the look on his face says he feels the same. Finn feels his lips start to curve into a smile.

And then Leo says, “Why am I here, then?”

There are a hundred ways Finn could answer that question. One of them is ‘Why wouldn’t you be?’ and another is ‘I don’t know.’ He could be passionate. He could be tactful. He could be poetic or blunt or gentle or any of those things.

What he goes with, in the end, is philosophical.

“Who decides it’s wrong?” Finn says to the floor. “Any of it. The feeling. The wanting. The having, even. If it’s real, then how can it be wrong?”

He can’t see Logan’s face, nor Leo’s, but he imagines they must be confused. He goes on, not entirely sure he knows what he’s saying and not entirely sure he cares. “And maybe it’s destiny. And maybe it isn’t. Why does it matter? If it’s real and painful and there for the taking, why bother about whether it’s supposed to be?”

Finally, he looks up. He senses that one of them is going to say something, and whichever it is, he cuts them off.

“Maybe it’s not you. Fuck, maybe it isn’t either of you, and maybe I’m the only one who thinks it should be. But it has to mean something, doesn’t it? Because if it doesn’t… why bother at all?”

And maybe, Finn thinks, I’m going to start crying.

***

Logan, mind still wheeling, is the only one who gets an inkling of what Leo is going to do before he does it. Finn certainly doesn’t, and he’s not quite sure Leo does either.

He grabs Finn by the collar and pulls him up, their faces smashing together, red and gold curls tangling between their foreheads. Logan watches them slowly break apart, far enough away to lock eyes, yet still so close they’re breathing into each other’s mouths. His heart surges—with jealousy, yes, but also with something fiery and sweet. Something akin to excitement, or—dare he say—love.

“Whoa,” he says out loud, not realizing it until Leo and Finn both glance over at him. His cheeks start to colour.

Then Leo places a hand on his shoulder and leans down to kiss him, too. This one is more gentle by far that the previous; a dance rather than a battle. It makes sense—Finn’s always been the brash one, the impulsive one, while Logan is tentative, sturdy—and it seems fitting that Leo is the one to remind them of that.

Logan still doesn’t know what they’re doing there.

Well, he knows what they’re doing, of course. They’re kissing. But he doesn’t know why Finn picked now to haul them halfway across Hogwarts arena and make it happen. Maybe if he really thought about it, something would come to him.

But of course he’s not going to think about it, because Leo is still kissing him.

When one of them finally pulls away—Logan isn’t sure who—Leo reaches one hand up and touches Logan’s lip. They stay there for a long moment, neither of them moving, before calloused fingers carefully skate across his waist. He turns towards Finn.

They surge forward together, meeting in the middle. One of Finn’s hands fists in Logan’s hair, the other slipping under his shirt, as they kiss for the first time in nearly four years.

He can taste salt. One of them is crying; it’s probably him.

When Logan starts to break away, desperate for air, Finn chases his mouth. Within a few seconds, though, he’s pulled back, too. It’s almost simultaneously that they remember there’s another person in the room.

Leo’s lip is between his teeth as he worries at it. He doesn’t speak for a long moment; the silence, before it shatters, if practically tangible. “You two have history,” he says, like it’s a question he already knows the answer to.

“We do,” Finn answers easily. There’s something fierce in his eyes. “But it’s the future that matters.”

Logan wishes Finn would stop sounding like Plato. Or Socrates. Or Aristotle. One of them, anyway. Finn is an American in his 20’s, not a 2000-something-year-old Greek. In any case, mystery is decidedly not Finn’s colour.

Leo shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“I mean you guys are—you’re practically—” he breaks off. One of his hands moves towards Logan, only stopping when it hovers mere centimetres from his wrist. “May I?”

“I—sure.” Logan’s heart skips a beat when their fingers brush. Leo gently turns his hand so Logan’s palm is up, and it’s not until Leo starts to push his sleeve away that Logan realizes what he’s doing.

But by then it’s too late—those three paw prints he spends so much time agonizing over are on display, no longer private, no longer just for him. For a split second, he considers covering his wrist again and leaving. But he does no such thing.

Because if he can’t trust Finn and Leo, he can’t trust anyone.

Finn’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. “It’s—” he says, and there’s barely any hesitation before he’s pulled his sleeve up, too.

It takes a moment before Finn’s soulmark registers in Logan’s mind. When he does, he starts to smile.

They’re soulmates.

***

Leo feels his jaw clench. He knows he should be happy for them—and he is, really. They’ll smile at each other, and they’ll kiss again, and they’ll go on with their lives as that one couple who are so in love it hurts to look at them.

He turns away when tears start to pool in his eyes. He’ll go back to the locker room; they obviously want to be alone right now. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Just as soon as he takes his first step towards the door, Finn grabs his arm. “Wait,” he says, and Leo stops.

“Logan and I are soulmates,” says Finn, all in one breath, “But there are three prints. Not two. And I know that it’s rare, but Re—but I’ve been told it’s possible. That it’s happened before.”

Leo thinks he knows, but he has to make sure. “Do you mean—do you think we’re—”

“I know you’re only eighteen,” Finn continues. “And I know there’s no way of knowing for a while. But does it matter? Even… even if I’m wrong? I love you—I love both of you—soulmates or not.”

Leo waits for one of the others to say something more. When neither does, he wonders why, and quickly comes to the conclusion that it’s because they’re waiting for him to say something.

“Who told you?” he asks the moment it pops into his head. It’s not the best thing he could say, but it’s not the worst, either.

“Told me what?”

“You said someone told you it was possible to have two soulmates. Who was it?”

There’s a pause as Finn cracks one of his knuckles, deep in thought. “Loops,” he whispers, but not until Leo has decided he’s not going to say anything at all. “I was talking to Loops yesterday, and I told him I thought… anyway, he said I should tell you.”

“You told him we’re soulmates?” Logan’s eyes are wide and fearful. “He knows we’re…?”

“Not you guys, no. Well, Leo, maybe. I just said you were both on the team, that’s all.”

“But you would have had to say something about my age,” Leo concludes, the dots starting to connect in his head. “And I’m the only one who’s not nineteen yet.”

“Yeah.”

Logan swallows, the almost comical gulp audible in the quiet room, and he crosses his arms over his chest. There’s something about the gesture, however, that tells Leo it’s an act of protection, not defiance. “He’s not going to… tell anyone, is he?”

“No. And if he doesn’t, I won’t.”

“What?” Leo thinks he might be missing something.

“He won’t tell anyone we’re… gay.” It’s the first time any of them have said it—that three-letter word that, in their profession, could ruin everything. “Because he has his own secrets. There’s a difference between being ashamed of something and wanting to keep it private.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. “You mean… we’re not the only ones?” His voice is incredulous, choked with emotion, and Leo reaches out a hand to him.

“I don’t think we ever were.”

***

Finn feels as though he’s floating. No—this is better than floating. This is dreaming. At any moment, he’s going to wake up staring at the ceiling of his bedroom with Leo asleep just a wall away. A mile away.

It’s like he’s watching, not experiencing, the way Logan’s fingers twine with Leo’s, love overflowing from the gaze they share. He’s imagining the kiss Logan leans forward to plant on his cheek. Leo’s arm wrapping itself around his shoulders is all in his head.

But it isn’t. Without having to speak, the three of them make their way out of the storage room and back into the hall—blond and brunet hand in hand, blond holding redhead so close it seems he’ll never let go. Finn leans into the warm body to his side, and he feels Leo stagger slightly as Logan does, too. They seem as though they would be perfect on the cover of a book, or a movie poster—Three’s Company, his mind provides, and he files it away just in case he ever decides he wants to sell the rights to his life story.

He’s a long way from that, though. After all, it’s been barely half an hour since they started to unravel this knot they’ve spent so long tangling themselves into, and right now all Finn needs to do is try his best to make sure they don’t get tied up again.

The locker room is almost abandoned. Pascal’s packing up the last of his stuff, and he smiles when they enter. Logan, for one, stiffens slightly in fear, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any need to. Indeed, the only thing Pascal says as he does up the zipper of his bag is, “Be good to him,” and none of them knows who he’s talking to, so they all nod.

Finn waits until they have the room to themselves to pull Logan close to him. “It’ll be okay,” he says. “I promise.”

“But if people find out—”

“Then we’ll have to deal with that—all of us will. But you don’t have to be afraid. The team’s family. And family means no one gets lost behind or forgotten.”

Logan nods, chewing his lower lip. It’s obvious when the gravity of Finn’s words clicks in his head—the expression on his face twists into one of confusion. “Wait a second—why does that sound familiar?”

“Because it’s from Lilo and Stitch.”

Swiveling his head towards Leo, Finn stage whispers, “Shhhhh!” This gets a smile out of Logan.

“I knew I’d heard it before somewhere. Shame on you, Finn—plagiarizing the words of an innocent blue alien!” He stops, blinking. “There’s something I never thought I’d say.”

Finn smiles. This is his life now. He thinks he’ll have a lot of fun getting used to it.

***

Skates swishing over the ice, Logan lets the world fall away. He stops thinking about everything—even Finn’s contagious laughter and Leo’s broad grin fade from his mind as he gets closer and closer to the goal.

Almost there, almost there—

He shoots. The puck whizzes past Kasey’s elbow, only barely missing him.

“Nice one, Tremblay!”

Moody is nodding in approval. Logan feels a rush of pride—it’s an easy, everyday drill, something he’s been able to do in his sleep since he was a kid, but praise is always a good thing. When he can’t have a cheering crowd, he might as well have a coach who admires his talents.

“Merci!” he says, beaming, and then, on second thought, adds, “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Finn and Leo bump shoulders. His heart swells—they love each other, and he loves that they love each other. Somehow, he finds it hard to believe it’s only been a day since the storage room and the kissing and—

“Tremblay!” Logan is shocked back out of his thoughts by Coach Weasley’s (albeit slightly amused) shout. “Stop daydreaming and take another shot!”

“Yes, Coach.”

He’s sweating by the time he’s finally allowed to sit down again. He takes a swig of Gatorade, watching Finn try and sneak up behind him.

“Boo!”

“Hi, Fish.”

“Dammit.” Two red eyebrows lift and fall again. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I saw you. You’re not inconspicuous.”

“You don’t just love me so much you could sense me from halfway across the world?”

Logan can’t help it—he glances around furtively, heart pounding, hoping desperately that no one heard Finn’s comment. “Well, that, too,” he adds, once he’s sure everyone else is sufficiently distracted. “But mostly that ginger head of yours just sticks out like a sore thumb. I call you mon rouge for a reason, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

"Peut-être plus tard.”

“In English, please?”

“...Maybe later.”

“But I want to know now.”

(If only he knew.)

Logan feels giddy as he realizes they really do have time for ‘maybe later.’ They have time, and they’ve earned it. After all, it’s been a day. It’s been eight years.

It’s been forever.

***

It’s almost a year later that Leo wakes up in an empty bed. He yawns, stretches, arches his back and hears his joints pop. For a moment, he wonders where his boys—even now, the thought that they really are his boys makes him unbelievably happy—are.

Then he hears the voices from the kitchen. A smile spreads across his face at the exclamation of “Oh, shit!” and he swings his legs over the side of the bed, placing his feet on the floor and preparing for whatever disaster may greet him.

(Honestly, who thought letting Finn and Logan cook was a good idea?)

And true enough, the moment walks into the kitchen he’s greeted by two things: the grinning faces of his boyfriends, and the smell of smoke.

“What’s burning?”

“The bacon.”

“Of course it is.” He reaches over, taking the pan from Finn, and scrutinizes it. “Salvageable,” he declares, “But please never try to make anything other than instant ramen again.”

Logan nods sheepishly. “Sorry,” he says. “We just wanted to make you something special. Y’know, for your birthday.”

Right.

His birthday.

He’d actually forgotten about that.

He’s not sure how—it’s all he’s been able to think about for almost a month now it’s here and he knows all three of them have the same thing on their minds. Sure, he’s excited, but right now, he’s leaning a little more towards terrified. Today’s the day.

But he knows, when he lets a very real grin spread across his face, that they won’t pressure him. They know it’s his choice, and they’ll respect that. He has nothing to worry about except for the fact that the smoke detector is around six seconds away from going off.

“Here,” he instructs Logan, putting the frying pan down on the stove. “Grab the fan from the bathroom—the little portable one—and bring it in here if you don’t want the fire department racing lights-and-fucking-sirens down our street.”

“Oui.”

“Finn… just try not to set anything else on fire.”

The hustle and (incredibly mild, all considering) panic only lasts for a few minutes. Finally, Leo presses a kiss to the top of Logan’s head, ruffling Finn’s hair, and opens the fridge. “Thanks for the breakfast, by the way.”

“Anytime.”

“...Or not.”

They all laugh at this, and when Leo grabs the milk and pours out three glasses, he watches them. He sees Finn pull out Logan’s chair with an exaggerated bow, glancing over and smiling when he and Leo lock eyes.

It’s the classic movie dilemma. Will he, won’t he. Won’t he, will he.

He waits until they’re all seated to bring it up. In the meantime, he rubs his wrist through the long-sleeved shirt he wore to bed yesterday for this very reason. It meant he was warm last night, but at least he gets a choice this morning.

“So.”

Finn and Logan both look up. “Yeah, Peanut?” one of them asks—probably Finn, but Leo’s mind is too far away to give it much thought.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

This time, it’s definitely Logan who responds, shrugging and poking at his bacon before saying, “Do you want to?”

“I think so.”

Here Finn cuts in. “I only have one thing to say, and that’s that whatever’s on your wrist? It doesn’t change anything. You’re mine—you’re ours—no matter what. We don’t have to be soulmates to be in love.”

“I know that. I just… I used to feel like I was missing something, you know? It’s been ages since I did, but at the beginning I felt like this was your relationship, and I was just an extra part of it.”

“I… I didn’t know you felt that way.” Logan’s eyes are earnest, emotional. Leo thinks he might see tears there. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. No, really—I felt that way, sure, but I don’t anymore. I know you guys love me. That’s what matters. I’m just tired of having the ability to tell myself I don’t belong, and this… this is what confirms it either way.

“I want to know. I really do. But I can’t help being afraid of the answer.”

Finn opens his mouth to speak, but Logan beats him to it. “It’s your choice. Whatever you decide to do, we’re here for you. You can do it today, you can do it tomorrow, you can do it in a year, you can do it never. Je t’aime, mon amour. Toujours.”

Time seems to slow down in the instant it takes Leo to reach into the deepest recesses of himself to gather all the courage he can find, take a deep breath, and pull up his left sleeve. His hands are hidden under the table, so neither Logan nor Finn knows what’s happened until Leo’s face spreads into the widest smile he’s ever worn and a choked, happy sob escapes his lips.

He can see in both their eyes the instant they realize—Finn first, Logan following mere instants later—and he rubs a thumb over the golden print. Somehow, he knows that one’s his.

He’s already seen this mark a hundred thousand times, but it feels so much more real there on his skin, blue and golden and green and—

“Yeah.” They know what he means. He wants to shout it out loud, sing it boldly as he walks down the street, because they’re his soulmates, and the only thing that matters more than that is that they’re in love.

thanks to @peggyrose19 for betaing and @lumosinlove for the incredible characters <3

#o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #I made finn and logan that same age because what? even? are? timelines???#soulmates au #they're in love!

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morkleemelon · 4 years ago

Text

off the ice || chapter 4: don’t look back

previous || m.list || playlist || next

pairing: college hockey player! mark x fem. college figure skater! reader

genre: fluff, sports au, college au

word count: 6.5k

warnings: blood, mention of surgery, description of injuries, swearing, financial struggle

author’s note: huge thanks again to my beta readers @writing-frog and @skiimmiilk for being a great help to making this story better! the slow burn fire is finally burning in this chapter and I’m so excited :) if you haven’t been listening already, I highly recommend the playlist for this chapter! enjoy~

“What do you mean ‘it’s fine’?,” you sobbed, gripping the side of her hospital bed. You wanted to give your best friend a hug, but you didn’t want to risk hurting her more. Yuna’s right leg was pinned into an apparatus, the intricate metal carefully holding together the broken bones, her usual perfect skin marred by scratches of red and patches of blue.

“I mean what I said”. Even with a sore voice and her current situation, Yuna managed to speak with dignity.

“And Ms. Kim is right,” the doctor agreed, jotting down a prescription on her clipboard, “the surgeries went well and she is in stable condition. The good news is that with proper rest and physical therapy, she will be able to walk again. Now, it’s my duty to be honest with you. You said you’re a figure skater?”.

“Yes”. Yuna uncurled her fingers, inviting you to hold her hand. You accepted it, bracing both of you for the bad news. Ten sat at the other side of the bed pressing her other hand to his lips.

“While we cannot rule out the possibility, the likelihood of you being able to skate again is very low. Especially for the next few years”.

Yuna’s tough façade started to crumble at the shocking reality and her lips trembled as she choked back tears. You pressed your forehead to her hand as you hid your own tears from her.

“God damn it!”. Ten yelled, getting up and kicking away the stool he was sitting on. The loud bang was followed by the sound of quiet weeping. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I shouldn’t have told you to go to the car first. None of this should’ve happened, god damn it”. The older boy cried into his palms as he placed the blame on himself.

“Please settle down and refrain from disturbing the patient,” the doctor warned, “but we would like to talk to you about the details of the accident, Ms. Kim, now that you’re awake and stable”.

Yuna nodded, a few tears escaping and rolling down her scraped-up cheeks.

“Your right leg is broken in three places upon impact with the vehicle: two in the femur and one major area in the tibia. You then sustained minor external injury as you fell to the pavement, scraping your arms and face. We will run additional tests later on to determine if you also have a concussion. If you can remember any details of how this accident happened, please describe them to me and we can notify the police to help find the suspect”, the doctor continued.

“I,” Yuna cleared her throat, “I was at a party last night and I had a bit to drink. We stayed pretty late and Ten is close with the host, so we just decided to sleep over. Then this morning, I woke up early and I wanted to go on a drive to clear my head. Ten had to get something so I left the house first. I- I checked both ways before I crossed the street to his car, but before I knew it… it came out of nowhere and I was on the ground. I don’t… I can’t remember anything about it. The next thing I remember was being in the ambulance with Ten”.

“I heard the whole thing happen,” Ten added softly, “I was inside the house at the time and I heard the screeching tires and Yuna screamed. By the time I ran outside, the car was gone and Yuna was bleeding on the ground”. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist. “All I could do was call an ambulance. I- I didn’t see the car or the bastard driving it. All I could do was sit with her in the street while we waited. She wasn’t waking up and all I could do was sit with her. I couldn’t even move her because I was afraid it would make it worse and she was bleeding everywhere. All I could do was sit there”.

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Ten break down. The normally bright and optimistic man now had his face in his hands, hiccupping uncontrollably at the thought of how close he came to losing the love of his life.

“Hey,” Yuna groaned, struggling to keep her own voice steady, “baby, I’m okay. When we met, you were hurt and struggling, but you got through it because we were together. We’re still together and we can get through this too”. She touched her fingers through his hair gently.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Kim, and both of your friends. The police are currently asking for witnesses for your hit-and-run case and will update you with any findings. These are your prescriptions”, the doctor slid the piece of paper onto the counter, “the nurse will come find you later to talk about your treatment. For now, I’ll leave you all alone”.

The room fell silent, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle as the doctor shut the door behind her.

“Hey y/n?”. Yuna turned her head gingerly to you.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I can’t do the competition with you now. I promised I would but…”

“Don’t even… how could you worry about that right now?”, you sobbed, “don’t you worry about it, Yuna, the competition doesn’t matter at all. I’m just glad you’re okay right now. You should focus on getting better, not worry about me of all things”.

“Y/n is right,” Ten agreed, “you were there for me when I got hurt. And when I thought there was no way out, you held my hand and pulled me up from the darkness. Doctor says you have a good chance of walking, so let’s get you there first. Then we’ll work on beating the odds and getting you back on the ice again”.

“You guys…” Yuna smiled slightly, careful not to strain her bruised jaw.

“I’ll come visit you as much as I can,” you promised, “I can bring my sleeping bag, clothes, and a jar of peanut butter. We can just be roommates here instead. There’s free AC and disney band aids too, it’ll be great”. Your attempt to lighten the mood was well received as the couple chuckles together.

“By the way, I called your parents while you were in surgery and they’re on their way over now. They should actually be here soon,” Ten noted.

“I’ll leave you guys then,” you offered. There was a two visitor limit and you didn’t want to intrude on Ten and Yuna’s chance to have some private time before her parents bombarded her with concern. Not to mention Mark has been sitting in the waiting room for a few hours now and you wanted to be respectful of his time too.

Offering your last words of support to Yuna, you shut the door quietly behind you. Dabbing at your watery eyes with the edge of your sleeve, you attempt to fix your run-off makeup using your phone camera. Everything felt kind of numb. The events of the last 24 hours were surreal and staying up the whole night with Mark certainly did not help as the tiredness was catching up to you. Concern, upset, worry, and frustration formed a thick cloud in your thoughts. Your brain was like a jammed printer and the thoughts were not processing. You were in shock to say the least.

You shuffle your way down the hall to the waiting area and look for Mark’s familiar blonde hair. You spot him fast asleep in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he leans his head back against the wall. His mouth is slightly agape, forming a soft ‘o’ as he breathed steadily in and out. Seeing him sleep so peacefully made you relax a little.

At least there was something good about today.

“Hey,” you whisper, shaking him gently. His eyes blink open slowly, wincing at the bright hospital lights.

“Hey,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes as he sits up straight. “How’s Yuna? Did you get to see her?”.

“She’s…,” you pause, “she’s okay. She said she was okay when I saw her just now and the doctor said she’s stable but…,” your voice trails off.

“But what?,” Mark asked gently, placing a comforting hand on your back. You look around to make sure there was nobody around who could overhear. A few people sat around the waiting room a ways away, texting on their phones or flipping through the free health magazines. The receptionist’s monotonous voice droned on as she answered a phone call.

“The doctor says that Yuna might not be able to skate again,” you murmured. Even though the doctor made it clear before, saying the words out loud felt extremely surreal. You imagined if it were you lying on the hospital bed hearing this news. To not be able to skate again… it was too awful to comprehend. Tears roll down your cheeks before you could help it, dangling from the point of your chin before falling onto your green volunteer shirt.

Mark thought about what he could say in reply to the devastating news, but decided it was best to not say anything at all. Pulling you in for a hug, you cry silently into the crook of his neck. You wrap your arms around his torso and hold on for dear life.

The next few weeks pass by rather uneventfully after the incident, at least comparatively. Police were still on the case of Yuna’s hit-and-run perpetrator, but they struggled to find witnesses when the crime occurred so early in the morning. Even the local CCTV didn’t cover the area where it happened and the driver was still ultimately at large.

The Lee’s and your other friends texted in the group chat plenty and you grew much more comfortable with having them around. Mark drives you to the hospital to visit Yuna a couple times a week and the three of you would eat lunch together in her room for a small sense of normalcy. It was a tough transition for you nonetheless- your best friend and roommate who you were used to seeing every day now was now seemingly so far away and your time together was reduced to a few hours a week. However, the initial shock of the situation eventually faded and the two of you came to terms with how things were. Yuna and you agreed to not cry about it anymore until she got started on physical therapy and gave recovery her best shot. Thankfully, Ten was there with her everyday and night, so it was bearable for her.

Mark’s always been sweet about your comfort zone, too, never pushing you to talk about your feelings yet at the same time, always there for you when you needed him. Neither one of you brought up the almost-kisses, the first reason being you weren’t ready to remind yourself of the horrible things that happened afterwards and the second being that Mark wanted to respect that you needed time to process it.

So the days tick by and seeing Mark became part of your daily routine. It was something you looked forward to when you got ready in the morning and although you didn’t really know it, it was something you needed to make your day feel complete. His good heart shined more and more to you everyday as you chose to continue to accompany him to Sunday volunteering. You got to witness how Mark’s eyes glowed whenever he talked to the people he served. He treated everyone there as if they were his own family and even though many of the people he helps are much older, he continues every conversation with sincerity and maturity.

In addition to walking you to class everyday, Mark now has a special seat next to you in the front row of your economics lecture, leaving Jeno and Ten snickering behind you as they watch your close interactions. You ate lunch at the willow tree by the basketball court on the days you weren’t visiting Yuna. After a while, you grew used to the dirty looks from the girls across the court, even glaring back when you met Hillary’s fiery stare. Nonetheless, you developed a comfortable social routine and everything was going quite well, except for one abundant issue weighing heavily on your shoulders.

The middle of October rolls by and you grind your way through your evening shift at Frankie’s. Thankfully, it was a Tuesday, so late-night stragglers weren’t an issue. You finish scrubbing down the counters in the kitchen and wipe your hands on your waitress apron. Unfortunately, it was your turn to close so you were the only one left working tonight. Your back ached from the hours of waiting tables and your cheeks hurt from the wide smile you offered all of your customers, rude or not. Sighing, you count your tips for the day.

A bell chimes from the door.

“Sorry we’re closed-,” you stop your words as you see the figure illuminated by the low diner lights.

“Is it too late for me to talk with the pretty waitress?” Mark grins, unzipping and taking off his wind breaker. You roll your eyes but your smile tells him you aren’t actually annoyed.

“The pretty waitress is covered in barbeque sauce and all purpose cleaner. Proceed?”

“Oh no, not barbeque sauce! Cancel request! Cancel Request!”

You laugh, throwing a nickel at his dramatic show.

“Wait, give that back to me. I need every tip I can get,” you say, holding out your hand to receive the coin. Mark obediently picks it up, handing it to you as he takes a seat at the bar. You thank him, flipping through the crinkled, greasy bills from the tip jar. The creeping disappointment must have shown on your face because Mark broke the silence.

“Not a good night?” His words were careful. He understood you were under a lot of stress recently, but he didn’t have the heart to pry further and make you tell him why, which you appreciated. Mark assumed it was about Yuna or grades, but you never confided the real reason of how much your financial situation really scared you.

“Not a good…” you debate telling him everything. On one hand, you didn’t want to come off as needy or desperate. You were infamously bad at sharing your burdens with others. On the other, you wanted to tell Mark because you know he would listen and it would make you feel better. “Not a good anything,” you finally admit, setting the scraggly bills down on the clean counter between you.

Only $26.84 for the whole night.

Mark’s soft brows were creased in concern as he waited for you to elaborate. He rested his chin on his knuckle, watching you pensate your feelings carefully. You meet his soft gaze, his eyes telling you that it’s okay. You let your shoulders relax, not even realizing the tension they were carrying.

“I…,” you start, letting out a small sigh as you walk your way around the counter to sit on the stool next to him. He spun his stool so he was sitting facing you. You pick at the mysterious stain on your apron.

How do I even tell him about this? Hey Mark, I’m broke! I might drop out because I don’t have money for school, thus ruining everything my parents and I have worked for.

“I guess I’m just worried,” you resolve after a minute, “I’m worried because, well, because of money”. You wince at hearing the words out loud but continue before you could take it back, “my parents are working really hard to get the money for my tuition, but things aren’t looking good for next semester”. You continue to tell him about how you’ve been picking up extra shifts to try to save up, but skating fees and money for basic necessities eats whatever you earn right up. The thought of quitting skating to save money came to your mind, but you never followed through because that was as much of a necessity as anything. A miracle occurred with the skating competition, only for some sick bastard to hurt Yuna. You asked around but everyone already had a partner or were too busy to participate in the competition. So now you could either go rob a bank or take a gap year and hope you’ll be able to return. Mark listened to your qualms quietly until you finished.

“The competition, did you ask people who aren’t on your team?,” Mark inquired, resting a reassuring hand on yours.

“Yeah, I even asked the girls on JV, but nobody wants to do it since they think they can’t win,” you confirm with a sad nod.

“That’s so dumb,” Mark stated, “you’re like, the best skater ever. Even the worst girl on JV could win if they did it with you”.

You look at him in surprise. His thumb ran comfortingly across your knuckles, sending tingles down your arm. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you look back down at your joined hands. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what you guys were: officially, you were just friends at the moment, but anyone could see that there was something there. As of late, too much has been on your mind for you to possibly sit down and ponder it. Neither one of you has confessed feelings of any sort, but the night at the lake couldn’t just be ignored. And do normal friends hold hands like this?

“Right, tell that to them. Nobody wanted to be my partner, so yeah, I’m kind of in a pickle with tuition right now”

“Well can anyone be your partner?,” Mark asked.

“What do you mean? Like, just ask random strangers to skate with me?”

“No I mean like… I could do it”. His expression was serious, alluding that he meant every word of his ridiculous proposition.

“You could-” you stop to consider, “I mean I guess? I don’t think Coach Tanya said anything about the participants needing to be on the team… or be a girl. But there’s a big problem we’re not considering.”

“What problem?”

“You don’t know how to figure skate”. You free your hand from his and punch him lightly in the arm.

“But I play hockey and I’ve skated all my life,” Mark bargained, pointing to himself smugly and shrugging, “how hard can it be?”

“How hard-” you wheeze. You laugh out loud as the serious boy looked on indignantly. “Figure skating is miles different from what you guys do. Y’all go, what, forwards and backwards? Can you do a jump?”.

“I can too do a jump,” Mark defended.

“Okay, what about a single axel jump?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you giggle, grabbing the counter and spinning your stool around. Mark watches you endearingly.

“Y/n” the sound of your name stops your childish break and you look at him expectantly. “What if I practiced every day. I can learn your uh- single axis”

“Axel,” you correct.

“Axel. I can learn this axel jump and I can practice it and whatever else you need so you can do the competition”. You couldn’t tell if he was being serious, but your heart skipped a beat nonetheless.

“Deadass?”

“Deadass,” Mark nodded.

“Why… why…”. You struggled to find the right words.

“Because I like you,” Mark interrupted, “and I want to do this for you because it would make you happy. I’d streak across campus fully nude and screaming if it made you happy”.

Did he just...confess?

“It would,” you nod seriously.

“It would? Which part? The competition or-”

“No, the streaking,” you shake your head, ignoring the steady increase of your heart rate. You press your lips into a flat line and nod to feign seriousness. Mark paused before getting up. He reached for the hem of his shirt, sighing before lifting it up over his head.

“Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, reaching for his belt buckle. You shriek, shielding your eyes from his half-nude appearance. Although you didn’t want to admit it, you let your eyes linger on his lean torso through your fingers.

Damn, maybe hockey does have some benefits.

“I was kidding! Please put your clothes back on!,” you cry. You heard him laugh as he pulled the fabric back on.

“Okay I’m decent. I’m decent,” Mark assured, taking his seat next to you again. “But seriously, I meant what I said and you don’t have to reply until you’re ready. I completely understand if you don’t know yet. Just know that I am here for you and I,” he grabbed the edge of your stool and pulled it firmly so you were facing him, “really like you. As more than friends”.

You felt surprisingly confident; the stress of life always went away when Mark was around and you forgot all about the scattered pennies and nickels on the counter. Although his confession was so sudden, you had a feeling it was coming eventually. It didn’t feel shocking, but more like… finally. That being said, you were unsure of what to say. You weren’t sure you were ready for a relationship and most of all, you weren’t sure about your feelings for him. The last thing you wanted was to say you like him back and have it end up not being true.

Like always, the understanding, patient look in Mark’s eyes told you that he would wait for you to reply when you’re ready.

“Okay”. You smile.

“Okay”. He mirrors.

“Let’s do it, the competition,” you decide.

“Really?”

“Yeah, let’s give it our best shot! After all, it’s a crowd vote and your popularity might gain us favor,” you tease, poking his chest. “What time is it?”

“It’s 9:48pm, why?,” Mark replied, checking his lock screen. You hopped off your stool and began untying your apron.

“You drove here right?”. He nods. “Then there’s somewhere I wanna go if you’re willing to drive”. You shove your tips for the night into your bag.

“You know I’m always down for you,” Mark smiled, grabbing your jacket off the rack and helping you into it. He stood in front of you and zipped you up without you asking, fixing the hood so it was proper. You watch him in silence and awe as he smooths down the wrinkles by your collar carefully and slings the strap of your bag over his shoulder without a word. It’s always these things, the little things, that leave you speechless.

The drive was pleasant. Mark put on your favorite radio channel and the two of you vibed comfortably to the acoustic music, the only interruptions were your quiet directions to the desired destination. You examined Mark’s face as he focused on the road, tipping his head back and forth to the beat with one hand on the wheel. It was dark, but the passing street lights illuminated his features in mesmerizing flashes, almost as if they were afraid to show his face for too long, the beauty would be too much to handle. His cheekbones were especially accentuated by the small smile on his lips. Looking at him made you feel… calm.

You pulled into the familiar parking lot. The blue neon lights above the building reading “Skate City” buzzed with electricity as the two of you got out of the car.

“You wanted to come here? To a kid’s roller rink?”. Mark chuckled as he shut the driver side door.

“Make fun of me now but you’ll see why” you rolled your eyes, walking through the building door which Mark held open for you.

The interior of the building was just like you remembered: the dark, ragged carpet was covered in colorful squiggles and dots resembling an abstract representation of worms and confetti. If that wasn’t bad enough, the matching wallpaper and UV lights topped off the hallucinogenic nightmare of a roller rink. Usually, it was also filled with the screams of children. Due to the lateness in the day, the rink was empty and usual disco funk was turned off. You would think it was closed if it weren’t for the man watching TV behind the counter.

“Mr. Joseph,” you call out with a wave. The man grunted, pulling his feet from off of the counter and shuffling through the mess of papers to find his glasses. He was an unassuming man in about his early forties, balding, pot-bellied, and proud. Nobody would guess that he was the man who taught you to skate all those years ago.

“Why, is that Miss y/n?,” Mr. Joseph exclaimed, rounding the counter to hug you.

“How have you been, Joe?”

“Well, you know me. I’m gettin’ by. Who’s this fella over here?”. Joe adjusted his specs and squinted at Mark.

“This,” you nudge the shy boy forward slightly, “is my friend, Mark. Mark, this is my family friend and former coach, Mr. Joseph. Also known as Joe,” you introduce.

The two men exchange a firm handshake.

“Nice meeting you, Mark. You treating her right?” Joe narrowed his eyes.

“Um so,” you cough, saving Mark from the awkward question, “Joe, we need skates for Mark”.

“Wait but I already have skates, y/n-,”

“No, you have hockey skates, Mark. You’re gonna need proper figure skates if we’re gonna do this competition right,” you explain.

“Competition, huh,” Joe gruffed, waddling into the back room and motioning for you to follow.

“Yeah, I don’t know if my parents told you, but Yuna was in an accident and now she can’t do the pair skate with me. Mark’s a hockey player but,” you glance at him with a smile, “he offered to pick up some skills and be my partner”.

“Here,” Joe smacked a pair of skates into Mark’s arms, “try these, boy”.

“Thank you, sir”. Mark bowed and went out to the bench to try them on.

Once he was out of sight, Joe leaned down to you, “you like this boy?”.

“Stop!,” you cry, covering your reddening ears with your hands.

“I’m just saying,” Joe held up his hands innocently, “I can tell he likes you by the way he looks at you. Even from meeting him just now”.

“Yeah… I just,” you stop to think about it. Well it’s true he likes you...

Do you like him?

You look to the door where you could see his shadow lacing up the new skates. You wish he would hurry back. Being without him felt like something was missing. Even if he was right around the corner, it didn’t feel good that you couldn’t see him and feel his reassuring presence. Realization began creeping in and you turn to look back at Joe’s I-told-you-so expression. He gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Make sure he’s good to you”.

Mark’s figure reappeared at the doorway, oblivious to your pounding heart and emotions which were becoming slowly more apparent. You watch endearingly as he stepped awkwardly into the room wearing the skates, stretching out his arms to maintain his balance.

“I think they fit!,” Mark beamed at you, causing the butterflies in your stomach to migrate all around.

“That’s good, boy. Take them on the house,” Joe guided him back out to take them off before he could hurt himself.

“Oh no, sir-”

“Please, they were collecting dust in that storage room. Nobody wants men’s figure skates anymore these days and I’m glad to help y/n out” Joe dismissed.

“Joe,” you stop him, wrapping your arms around Joe’s neck to give him a big hug, “thank you,” you whisper.

“Of course, kiddo” he pat your back, “you make me proud”.

After chatting for a bit longer, you bid your goodbyes to Joe as he locked up Skate City for the night. In the car, you hold your breath and turn towards Mark. Strangely, your head was in the clouds as you examined his face, a face you’ve grown so familiar with in the past few weeks, yet seemed brand new. Suddenly, he leaned in close, close enough to count his pretty eyelashes, warranting your breath to hitch in your throat. Unaware of your, Mark places the box of skates in the backseat and sits up straight again to buckle his seatbelt. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Right, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

“So, are you tired or do you wanna do some skating today?,” you finally ask.

Mark flashed you a crooked smile, starting the car, “Y/n, I’m always down for you. School rink?”.

You nod.

The whole drive back to the school was noticeably more awkward, at least to you. You tensed at every word he said and felt your heart clench when he hummed along to the soft radio tune. Saying nothing or giving short, one word replies, you didn’t trust your voice to say more. Instead, you opted to look out the window at the passing scenery for the fear of Mark noticing your flushed expression. You tug uncomfortably at your jacket collar, beginning to regret asking him to skate tonight. Ironically, and perhaps foolishly of you, you’ve received his confession yet you’re unwilling to admit the good news of mutual feelings to yourself. What should you do or say? Surely it’s not right to just say ‘I like you! I figured it out haha let’s date!” out of the blue.

Pulling into the sports center parking lot, you notice the locks on the front door.

“Oh crap, I forgot it’s a weekday. The rink is closed after 11,” you mutter, slightly relieved at the thought of heading home to sort out your feelings alone.

“Don’t worry, we can sneak in through the side door,” Mark answers nonchalantly, getting out to open the car door for you. You don’t disregard the kind gesture and instead feel the familiar pressure in your chest again.

And sneak in you did.

Mark had clearly done this a few times judging based on the way he led you confidently to the obscured side door which was propped slightly open with a rock.

You went your separate ways in the eerily empty stadium to your respective locker rooms. Splashing your face with cool water, you attempt to rein in your fiery flush.

How should I bring it up? Or do I wait? He already said he likes me, but what if he didn’t mean it?

After changing into your skates, you take a deep breath and head out to the ice.

He was already there waiting for you by the railing. Mark must have heard your footsteps approaching and he turned to give you a warm smile.

“You’re right, y/n, these skates are kinda different”. He tapped the toe pick into the padded floor.

“Yeah… right,” you mumbled, struggling to meet his bright eyes.

He’s so cute.

Pale moonlight streamed through the glass ceiling panels and illuminated your surroundings. Mark’s hair made his face glow silver and his eyes sparkled with the reflection of the moon. His face fell at your weak response, reading it as disinterest.

You open the gate and skate out onto the ice in front of him. Mark tentatively skated out to follow you, wobbling slightly at the different sensation. You reach out to grab his arms and steady him, meeting his gaze briefly before blinking away. You loosen your grip on his sleeves, the contact making your feelings go wild.

For a few moments, the two of you silently glided across the ice. For the first time ever, it seems, you weren’t sure what to say to him.

“Listen,” Mark finally spoke, struggling to a stop. He looked down at his skates thoughtfully, “If it’s about what I said earlier, if it’s about me liking you and that made you uncomfortable, I- I take it back. I feel like I didn’t give you a chance to say no if you wanted to-”

“No it’s-,” you interrupt, skating slightly ahead, “It’s not that”.

“Then why are you acting so strange?,” Mark asked, struggling to keep up.

“I just,” you circle to a stop at the middle of the rink. How do you even begin to explain how you feel? Never in your life have you felt like this about anybody. Never in your life have you felt so special and so cared for than when you were with Mark. You would have been lucky enough just being able to know him, but he even likes you. Out of all of the people he could have chosen, he chose you.

Mark careened to a halt behind you, waiting for you to finish. You take a deep breath.

Now or never.

You turn around to face him.

“What you told me in the diner, tell it to me again”. Your voice came out weaker than you had intended.

Mark’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and worry that you were upset with him. He wanted to pull you into a hug, tuck that piece of hair back behind your ear and tell you it’s okay if you didn’t love him back.

“I-,” Mark cleared his throat from his emotions, “I said that I like you, y/n. I like you as more than friends”. He looked down towards his feet but before he could blink, he was crushed in between your arms as you jumped to hug him. Your face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck and you breathed in his familiar, warm scent as he wrapped his arms delicately around your waist. The force from your impact caused both of you to drift slightly, but you kept steady. Not brave enough to look him in the face, you whisper your confession to his ear.

“I’m ready to answer you. I… I like you too. As more than friends”

Mark’s grip tightened around your waist as he lifted you slightly off the ice. Spinning around, he curled his fingers into the fabric of your sweatshirt as if he never wanted to let you go. Your heart swelled at the feeling as you held onto his sturdy shoulders. Neither of you needed to say anything more. He pulled you close so there was no space left and you listened to the gentle rhythm of his heart beating for you.

Pulling away at last, you rest your forehead against his. Your eyes fluttered closed but you could feel the tip of his nose brush gently across yours, his warm exhalation fanning across your lips.

“You don’t happen to have your phone on you, do you?” Mark mumbled deeply, savoring the moment.

You let out a small giggle, “no, do you?”.

“Nope”

And with that, you tilted your head up ever so slightly and Mark cupped your cheek to bring your lips together. You melt into his kiss and touch, allowing the way his soft lips moved against yours to express his silent affections. Exhaling through your nose, you sigh into the kiss, moving your hand to rest at the back of his head to pull him in deeper.

Finally.

Mark ran his thumb affectionately across your cheek, his lips speaking of all the times he’s wanted to do this. Your fingers lace their way through his soft hair, loving the way he reacts as you tug against the strands slightly.

A loud bang from a closing door causes you to pull apart finally. The bright beam of the security guard’s flashlight flashes across the ice as the two of you look on like deer caught in headlights.

“Hey, you two! Get out of there!,” the guard shouted, pointing a finger at your embracing form.

“Run!,” you whisper yell, pulling him quickly towards the gate. The two of you run as quickly as you can in your skates, pulling them off before you enter the hallway.

“Hey! Stop right there!,” the guard yelled, stumbling down the stadium stairs.

“Quick! In here!” Mark tugged you into the boys locker room, shutting the door before the guard could see and ushering you quickly to hide in the gap between two lockers. You squeezed in with him, panting softly as the adrenaline pumped through your body. Mark’s arms wrap around your body to pull you closer as the guard opens the door. The flashlight flicked menacingly across the dark room. You hold your breath as it comes particularly close. Finally, seconds that feel like hours pass and the security guard grunts before deciding to move on. You exhale in relief.

Mark rests his chin on top of your head and you realize how closely you’re pressed together. You giggle into his chest, loving how warm he felt.

“I can’t believe that I get to hold you,” Mark whispers. His fingers draw invisible shapes across your back.

You nuzzle your face into his tee shirt. “Well I can’t believe we’re doing this in the boy’s locker room after being chased down by security,” you mumble against the fabric. His chest sounded a low vibration as he chuckled back, moving his hand up to stroke your hair.

“You are so, so beautiful, y/n,” he moves to kiss the top of your head, “I don’t know the words to express how beautiful you are to me”.

You press deeper into his body at the words you’ve always wanted to hear. Lifting your face up from his chest, you press a small kiss to his lips, heart jumping at the still-new sensation. It was sweet, his lips ghosting over yours breathlessly as you nestle your nose gently against his in a slow eskimo kiss.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Mark whispers in between kisses, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long”.

You answer by gripping the fabric of his collar to pull him in deeper, moving your lips rhythmically against his.

“I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” you admit as you catch your breath, “I just didn’t understand it. Or some part of me wasn’t ready to admit it”.

“That makes sense” Mark rests his forehead on yours, smiling, “I would have waited a thousand years if that’s what you needed”.

Again and again, he captivated you with his words. He was so good to you and never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect. Day after day, his patience with you never faded and slowly, you let him break down your walls. His comforting smile and optimism always filled you with reassurance and peace.

So standing there, making out in the boy’s locker room, illegally, in the dead of night on a Tuesday, you became sure. You were sure that you wanted him in your life. You were sure you wanted to try to be a part of his. As you pressed your lips to his and as he ran his fingers through your hair, there was no turning back.

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curioscurio · 4 years ago

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Seriida headcannons because i have brainrot:

• One day Sero puts on roller skates and waits till Iida starts his warm up of running as fast as he can around the tract and right as he takes off Sero shoots his tape at Iida.

• Funniest 3 minutes of Seros life. that is until Iida realizes he has a stowaway and IMMEDIATELY stops but SERO KEEPS GOING

• Long story short Iida has to run Sero to the nurses office because he skated into a tree

• That video of a car driving by with crazy revved engines but someone was playing a trumpet in it to make car sounds thats sero and iida but sero is riding on his back

• Theyre both health nuts but like on opposite sides of the spectrum

• Iida eats 12 vitamin gummies and protien shakes and enhanced health juices and shit

• And sero is like "iida.... the chemicals.." and eats a handful of basil before going out the door to energize himself

• Iida snores and sometimes when he snores his engines will gently purr and tbh it drives Sero absolutely wild. He thinks its the cutest thing ever

• Yes iida will occasionally smoke with sero but only off of school property on a weekend where he can just tell everyone they were out on a date

• Which they usually are but you know

• Sero leans on Iida all the time. He's sleepy? Lean. Need a shoulder to put his head on? Lean. Looking over his shoulder? Hand on the small of his back and lean. Arm over the shoulder. Hanging off his neck. Mans a koala basically.

• Iida likes to fix Sero's hair or tie or uniform when it's messy or out of place. Sero laughs but if it's in front of his friends he blushes like a madman

• Sero is really good at origami and makes little flowers for Iida. Iida is not imune to origami flowers

• Sometimes Sero falls asleep on Iidas shoulder during movies or when he's high or during late night studying and Iida takes it upon himself to carry him to his room every single time...

• in like 5 more mins tho i mean the movie is almost over theres no reason to wake him up yet 👀👀

• Seriida fusion would be named Hanten and their quirk would be asphalt feet so like. Imagine the sole of their feet produces molten asphalt and on the ankle is a wheel that flatens it out as soon as they roll over it. Essentially heelies that pave roads if that helps.

• Sero loves hearing Iida ramble and just lets him speak about whatever's on his mind and Sero will listen intently

• Example It's very obvious when Iida has a bad day and he will try and hold back because he doesnt want to overhwelm Sero but the minuite Sero asks what's wrong Iida let's it all flow out

• On the other hand, getting Sero to talk about his deep feelings is like pulling teeth and sometimes it's hard for Iida because Sero will just Not Want To Talk About It and iida just wants to find a solution or fix the problem

• Also sorry kind of off topic but Iida is the "can i speak to the manager" and "excuse me he ask for no pickles" and sero eats the pickles so not to cause a scene

• Who's more reckless Iida or Sero? Well

• Iida is reckless in life or death situations and will always sacrifice himself for a civillians sake or to avenge something and Sero has to snap him out of it.

• "Oh my god! Some idiot hero just rushed into the burning bulding at incredible speeds-"

• Sero, swearing: "thATS MY IDIOT"

• Sero is casually reckless as in driving one handed, jumping into unknown situations, jumping off roofs but trusting that iida would catch him, approaching a wild animal, that kind of thing.

• Does things that he doesnt realize are reckless. Would drink cactus juice because plant=water of course

• Iida has to stop him from licking swingsets because Denki dared him to

• THEY TAKE CARE OF EAVHOTHERRRR

• When sero forgets to eat and iida bring him a snack and/or a meal

• Sero taking on some of Iida's communal chores because Iida already does like 26363u3 things for their class

• Iida letting Sero cuddle close to him when its really cold outside and it feels like he's back in the ice at the sports festival and everyone is watching and pitying him but oh! Iida is there with an arm over his shoulder and now it's just the two of them and sero feels warm again and oh wow iida is a big man

• Sero noticing that it's Iida's turn to cook for the dorm that night and see's the way Iida's hands shake when it comes time to slice the vegatables and Sero gently takes the knife away from his trembling fingers. Gives iida a new task and takes over most of the cooking but sero really doesnt mind.

• When iida has nightmares about that dark alleyway and the smell of blood and wakes up thrashing but calms down because the smell of the insence in seros room is nothing like blood. The salt lamp in the corner keeps the darkness away and sero groggily asks if he's ok and grabs iida's hand and helps him breathe through it. sero gets up and makes iida a cup of tea and listens to iida talk about his dream and reassures him till iida can fall back asleep

• Middle of a battle and Iida gets cut up on his arm but Sero INSTANTLY drops by him to apply a tape bandage and make sure he's ok

• A villain is about to strike Iida from behind but suddenly his weapon stops mid swing and he's completely imobilized by tape and holy shit have you ever seen cellophane that pissed off before ??

• Sero fighting a villain up on a super high building but gets knocked out and thrown off and iida can only see a small silhouette plummeting from the sky from where he is. Iida books it as fast as he can and just barely manages to catch Sero before he hits the ground.

• When Sero wakes up he weakly snickers and Iida is holding him close, panicking, and asks "what's so funny??? Do you have a concussion" and seros like "i bet denki 20 buck i that the next time i got knocked the fuck out i would wake up in your arms. Im taking you out someplace bougie tonight babey"

#bnha #boku no hero acadamia #iida tenya #sero hanta #seriida #seroiida #headcanon #my hero academy

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 4 years ago

Text

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety. Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.

Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out.

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?”

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored.

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!”

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked.

“...No.”

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?”

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?”

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained.

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?”

Virgil waited.

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added.

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure.

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly.

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.”

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!”

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone.

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to.

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop.

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully.

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them.

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?”

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.”

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.”

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight.

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.”

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped.

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?”

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.”

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie.

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.”

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?”

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over.

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?”

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.”

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment.

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.”

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket.

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them.

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something?

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible.

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it.

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.”

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?”

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.”

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say.

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe.

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?”

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.”

“Right, right,” Virgil said.

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked.

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him.

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?”

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?”

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.”

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?”

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed.

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off.

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear.

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked.

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.”

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying.

Logan shook his head. “No, never.”

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness.

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired.

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building.

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area.

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway.

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby.

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.”

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.”

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?”

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him.

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him.

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up.

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.”

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries.

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly.

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began.

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise.

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.”

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face.

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.”

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding.

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus.

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words.

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it.

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly.

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead.

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees.

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red.

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.”

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it.

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.”

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus.

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.”

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.”

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?”

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?”

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed.

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees.

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?”

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while.

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!”

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge.

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked.

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully.

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.”

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching.

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?”

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.”

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.”

“But, like, research? Drafts?”

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil.

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him.

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.”

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.”

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to.

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.”

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?”

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking.

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?”

Logan perked up. “Really?”

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it.

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?”

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05

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lostinmirkwood · 4 years ago

Text

Rinkside

Find it on AO3 here.

It’s not often that Arya gets to go to a hockey game anymore. Between classes for her Master’s degree, work, and the ticket prices it never seems to work out in her favor. But when Ned wins a pair of tickets to tonight’s Storm’s End Lightning game and offers to take her with him she jumps at the chance. Ned knew how much she loved hockey and she was ecstatic when he thought of her first to take with him.

“Want a beer?” he asks as they find their seats. She takes a moment to survey her surroundings, they weren’t the best seats in the house, but they were free.

“Sure, but just the one, and some popcorn too if it’s not too much trouble!” He smiles at her and takes off to get drinks and snacks for them before the game starts.

While waiting for the lights to dim and the music to start she looks around at the people that are slowly filling in around them. The sight of children bundled up like small marshmallows against the chill of the arena, their parents arms loaded with popcorn and sodas makes her smile at the memories of going to games with her father and brothers at the Winterfell Ice Arena growing up. A couple of guys in jerseys fill in behind them, loudly talking about the upcoming wedding of one of them, a father is explaining the basics of the game to a little girl with blonde pigtails in the row ahead, and two seats down from her sits a man in a nice business suit. Her eyes linger on him for just a moment and she wonders if they’ve met before, and why he’s wearing a suit to a hockey game. There’s something that is vaguely familiar about his messy black hair and icy blue eyes. He’s quite attractive and when she catches his eye they exchange a small smile before she quickly looks away with a slight blush.

Ned returns just as the lights dim, handing her a beer and a small bag of popcorn, a tray of nachos in his other hand. They stand and clap as the music begins and the players make their way onto the ice.

“Thanks for bringing me,” she says as they sit back down.

“Well, I know how much you love it. The pictures at your desk speak for themselves! It must be your Northern blood, I don’t know how you aren’t freezing,” Ned is bundled in a scarf, and hat with gloves poking out of the front pocket of his heavy sweatshirt.

Arya internally rolls her eyes but smiles at him, Dornishmen . The arena isn’t that cold. “I do love a good game.”

Ned grins back before saying, “I’m not very familiar with all of this like you. We don’t play ice sports in the south. You’re going to have to help me out here.”

“Ned, we are in the south. And Sunspear has an ice hockey team.”

“Everything’s south to you, Stark. Plus we only got a hockey team five years ago. Point still stands, the game?”

“What do you want to know? Ask and I’ll answer.” A small huff of laughter to her right causes her to look over quickly. The man in the suit is looking at her directly, a grin on twitching at the corners of his full lips. She furrows her brows for a moment at him before turning her focus back to Ned and the ice, a brief grumble in her mind that he was laughing at her. “Girls know sports too, stupid,” she thinks before putting him out of her mind.

The first period is uneventful, not even a fight on the ice to liven things up. The score stands at zero-zero. Of course, the one game she can attend would be boring. During the intermission they make their way to the concession stand, Ned grabbing another beer and Arya getting water and some Twizzlers, her favorite hockey game snack from when she was a child. One their way back to their seat she notices the dark haired man in the suit is no longer alone, another man in an equally nice suit has joined him. He’s tall and thin with curly red hair and also looks familiar, but she can’t quite place either one of them.

Not even three minutes have passed in the second period when one of the Lannisport Lions slams a Lightning player into the boards. The crowd boos as the player lays on the ice for a moment to catch his breath before shakily getting back to his skates, the boos get even louder when the referees don’t call a penalty.

“Oh come on!” Arya shouts as she stands, throwing her arms in the air, “that’s boarding!”

“What’s boarding?” Ned asks.

“It’s when a player pushes another into the glass unnecessarily rough. It’s a five minute penalty for the Lions but these refs just screwed us out of that opportunity for a power play.”

A deep voice from her right comments, “It would’ve only been a minor.”

She turns to see both men looking at her, a pair of blue eyes twinkling from under the fall of dark hair.

“A minor?” she challenges, “he was almost unconscious!”

“Yeah, but he’s not bleeding,” Blue Eyes grins at her. She stares him for a moment before glancing back at his red haired friend to see him grinning as well. She gives them a curt nod before turning her focus back to the game.

“What’s his problem?” Ned murmurs. Arya just shakes her head.

By the end of the second period the Lightning are down by two.

“Sorry,” Ned says as they watch the Zamboni chug around the rink. The little pigtailed girl in front of them is asleep against her father’s arm.

“What for?” Arya asks.

“For the game being a crappy one,” he smiles at her, and she smiles back.

“You can’t tell the future Ned, so don’t apologize. I’m very happy to be here. I haven’t been able to go to a hockey game in a few years.” Arya hasn’t been able to make it home to Winterfell since she started her Master’s program and the Winterfell Wolves haven’t played the Storm’s End Lightning in Storm’s End at a time when she wasn’t drowning in exams, papers, and work. Not even the chance to see Robb on the ice could manage to pull her away from the pressing demands and deadlines of her job and school work as much as she would have loved to go.

The third period starts and five minutes in the Lions score another goal. That’s when the Lightning forget about playing to win and start playing for revenge. The first instance comes in a small skirmish that results in minor, two minute, penalties for both teams. As soon as those are over another skirmish breaks out, this time turning into an all out brawl.

“Kick his ass!” Arya yells, standing and cheering as helmets and gloves go flying and sticks are dropped to the ice. Ned looks taken aback by the sudden outburst of violence from her.

“You like the fights?” he asks.

“Like? Are you kidding, they’re the best part!” She shouts again as the Lightning player finally gets the upper-hand and sends the Lion skidding across the ice.

“It’s a shame Waters isn’t playing tonight.” Arya turns to her right to see the redheaded man grinning up at her. The dark haired man beside him is giving him an inscrutable look.

She sighs internally and takes the bait, “And why is that?”

“He would have had Marbrand knocked out in half the time. Lemoncloak isn’t nearly as good at fighting as Waters is.”

Arya scoffs, “Lemoncloak might not be as good at fighting, but at least he’s not an absolute asshole like Waters is. Have you ever seen how he fights? I mean, I’m all for getting down and dirty on the ice but there’s a line and he crosses it every time. It’s like he gets off on it,” she says, making an obscene jerking motion with her hand. “There’s a reason the fans chant “Ice Cold” when he takes the ice.”

The two men share a look and a smile. “What? You disagree?” Arya asks.

“Well, I disagree,” the dark haired man replies, “but it’s nice to know what other people think.”

Arya raises an eyebrow at him before turning her attention back to Lemoncloak and Marbrand being ejected from the game. When it’s all over Storm’s End has lost 4-1. Arya sighs as she and Ned pick up their trash to toss on their way out. She notices an odd look on Ned’s face and turns to see the dark haired man standing right behind her, towering over her.

“Is it a habit of yours to hover behind people?” she asks, looking up and up his firm chest to meet his icy blue eyes. She hadn’t quite realized how tall he was folded into the stadium chair near her.

“Just the ones I find interesting,” Arya narrows her eyes at him as he sticks out his hand, “I thought we should meet properly. Gendry Waters, left defenseman, ‘the guy who gets off on fighting’.”

Arya blushes furiously, swallowing hard and fumbling for a second as she puts her small hand into his massive one, “Arya,” she grits out, “and I’m sorry about that. If I had known…”

“You would have kept it to yourself? Where’s the fun in that?” He grins at her, perfect white teeth glinting in the arena lights. He must be fucking with her, she thinks.

“Okaaaay… This is sufficiently awkward. I’m going to go,” she pulls her hand free to gesture over her shoulder to where Ned is probably standing staring at the two of them. She had temporarily forgotten there were people around. Her hand feels cold for a moment without his warm palm around hers.

“Wait,” Gendry says, “this asshole is Anguy Archer, right wing.”

“Hi,” she says, waving awkwardly. The redhead flashes her a bright smile and a wave.

“We’re gonna go out with the guys and get a beer. Would you like to join us?” Gendry asks.

Her heart races for a moment. She’s intrigued by this man in front of her, but she came here with Ned, it would be insanely rude to ditch him.

“Your boyfriend can come too,” Anguy pipes up from behind Gendry’s massive shoulders.

“Oh, he’s, he’s not my boyfriend, we’re coworkers,” she says entirely too fast. The smile that breaks out across Gendry’s face makes her blush again.

He leans down so only she can hear him, the smoky leather smell of his cologne washing over her and making her dizzy, “That’s good to hear.” As his breath whispers across her ear a wave of goosebumps erupts across her arms. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, feeling very shy all of a sudden. He smiles at her one more time before turning to walk away. She fights down the urge to call out to him and turns back to Ned.

Over her shoulder she hears Gendry one more time, “If you change your mind we’ll be at Seaworth’s on the waterfront.” She glances back to see him give her a half smile that makes her insides squirm before he turns and walks away. She keeps her eyes on him as he goes, taking in the stretch of his suit jacket over his shoulders, his firm athlete’s ass, and the long stretch of his well muscled legs that his suit pants only highlight.

Ned awkwardly clears his throat.

“Sorry,” she says, “That was weird, right? I just… uh…”

“Yeah,” Ned drags the word out, “he seemed a little… friendly.”

“Uh, sure. Very friendly.”

“Did you want to go? We can if you want to?”

Arya thinks about it for the moment, Gendry’s dizzying blue eyes and enticing smell drift across her mind. The thought of sitting in a dark pub booth with him, his large, warm hand on her knee under the table. She reigns it in before the thought gets too far.

“No, no. Let’s just go. I have some edits to make on a paper when I get home anyway.”

She saves for a single ticket. It takes her over a month to set enough aside. She’s not sitting in the cheap seats this time, she wants to be rinkside where he could see her, to see if there was something there. If he recognized her she would take it as a sign She spent almost half an hour staring at the seat map when she went to buy her ticket before deciding that directly across from the player’s bench was where she needed to be. She prays that he’ll be playing against Oldtown tonight, since he’s fresh off a three game suspension. She puts on some light makeup, throws on her Lightning sweatshirt, and makes her way to the stadium.

The lights dim, the music starts, and she holds her breath as the players make their way onto the ice. She smiles when she sees him suited up in the dark blue Lightning jersey, his eyes piercing even from across the ice. This is going to be a good night. When the announcers call out the opening line-up she chants, “Ice cold! Ice cold!” with the rest of the crowd when his name is called for Left Defenseman.

She doesn’t pay much attention to the game, just to the dark haired man with the blue eyes. She finds herself watching his every move, calculating hits like he does, cheering when he does his job clearing the puck from near the Lightning goal and using his massive frame to keep the Oldtown center at bay.

Two periods pass with the Lightning up 2-1. He’s not even so much as looked up into the stands in that time. Maybe this was a bad idea, she thinks, and she should have gotten a ticket closer to the bench. She could have tried to yell over the glass at him then. But it would have taken her weeks longer to save enough to sit there, and to finagle time in her busy schedule to come.

He makes his way onto the ice again, and she watches as he does what he does best, blocking the other team’s offense from scoring a goal. What no one expected was for the play to shift quickly to the other end of the ice. The puck finds its way in front of his stick and with a practiced flick of his wrist it bounces off an Oldtown defensemen’s skate and into the goal, earning a point for Storm’s End.

She jumps from her seat, screaming with the rest of the crowd as he looks on in shock. It’s not his job to score and she can see the surprise written across his face. His teammates skate to him to congratulate him, and for the first time all night he looks up into the crowd, right into her grey eyes. Their eyes lock and her breath catches in her throat as the noise of the arena fades away. He smiles that half smile around his mouthguard as gloves smack his helmet and back but he doesn’t seem to notice. He makes his way back to the bench, not taking his eyes off her for the rest of the game. She can barely look away to the rest of the game either.

At the end of the game he skates onto the ice, over to the edge where she is waiting to make her own way to the boards. A few kids pound on the glass at him and he responds by slapping into the boards at them. They holler and laugh and she can tell it’s made their night. When the crowds finally thin she makes her way to him and gives him a big smile, he grins back, his mouthguard hanging free and giving her the full effect.

“Seaworth’s?” he yells through the glass to her, and she nods. “Thirty minutes,” he shouts again, taking off his glove and holding up three fingers. She nods again, smiling, and watches him skate off the ice.

Her heart pounds nervously as she stands outside the pub. She’d never been here before but had looked it up after he’d mentioned it at the last game. The owner of the pub had a long history with the Storm’s End hockey team and it wasn’t unusual to find several large, sweaty hockey players there after their games according to the internet. She only wanted to find one large, sweaty hockey player and it looked like she was in luck.

She notices Anguy first, and he gives her a knowing smile as he walks to the door, “Couldn’t resist some Ice Cold Waters?” he says, winking as he pulls the door to the pub open. She resists the urge to check him into the doorframe as he passes her.

“Hey.” She turns to see Gendry, standing behind her, a wide grin on his face as his dark, damp hair curls around his ears, his blue eyes shining in the dim street light.

“Hi,” she says quietly. He stares at her for a long moment before gesturing towards the door. They find the rest of the team crammed into several booths near the back celebrating their win, pitchers of beer and plates of food scattered between the tables. They squeeze in along an empty bench, thighs brushing beneath the table.

He leans in close to her, breath tickling her ear as he quietly says, “I have to ask. How come you didn’t recognize me?”

She turns to look at him, her nose nearly brushing his cheek with how close his face is to hers, “What do you mean?”

“At the first game. You clearly know your shit when it comes to hockey, so I was curious.”

She looks up into his eyes and he smiles at her. The smell of his cologne tickles her nose and she has to stop herself from climbing into his lap right there in front of his team.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like a neanderthal out there on the ice. Sweaty, testosterone fueled, black mouthguard, black eyes, broken noses, eye grease. I barely recognize my brother when he’s geared up and in the moment. You were… definitely not that that night. I was expecting at least some missing teeth or something. Also you looked distractingly nice in a suit, which totally threw me off.”

“I looked nice?”

Arya blushes and nods, leaning in close to him, “Very nice. I couldn’t help but stare at your arse as you walked away.”

Gendry raises a dark brow at her and gives her a very slow once over of what he can see of her on the pub bench next to him, his eyes darkening as he looks her over, mentally supplemented by what he saw as he approached her outside the pub. She’d ditched her Lightning sweatshirt in her car and was wearing a dark top and skinny jeans, a hint of pale skin peeking out from below the hem of her cropped shirt.

“You look nice too,” is all he manages to say, his voice barely a step above a growl.

Arya raises a challenging eyebrow back at him, “Thank you.”

Their attention is called away from each other but the electricity continues to spark between them as their hand brush grabbing for beer and bar snacks. They talk hockey with the team, Arya revealing that she roots for Storm’s End because she lives here but will always be a Winterfell Wolves girl at heart. She can’t help it, the north is in her blood and her brother Robb plays center for the team.

Gendry leans down to murmur in her ear at that, “So what happens when they play here?”

She glances at him from the corner of her eye and drops her hand high on his leg below the table, “I cheer for the Wolves, but I might cheer a bit for you too now.”

“Just me?”

A sly smile creeps across Arya’s face, “Just for you,” she squeezes his leg before removing her hand and deliberately reaches across him to spoon a bite of dip onto a cracker, her shoulder and back brushing his chest as he rumbles quietly and splays a warm hand across her back, a few of his fingers brushing her bare skin as her top shifts with her movement. She settles back and feels a flash of triumph as Gendry doesn’t move his hand.

Anguy catches her eye at one point and winks at her, nodding his head towards Gendry who has barely taken his eyes off her all night. She’d caught a few of his other teammates glancing between the two of them and giving each other knowing smiles and subtle elbows as they leave the two of them in their bubble.

Eventually Arya sees the time as someone’s phone lights up on the table. It was past 11pm and she has work in the morning and a class in the evening. “It’s getting late,” she says with a sigh, “I have to get going. I’ve had a long day and I have an even longer one tomorrow.”

Gendry’s hand briefly strokes her spine before he slides out from the edge of the bench. He reaches a hand down to her, the sparks they’d been feeling all night lighting up as they touch. Gently, he pulls her off the bench and into his space before taking half a step back and staring down at her, not dropping her hand. She squeezes his hand before lacing their fingers together. Turning back to the table she says her good-bye to the team members she’s spent the last few hours with and leads Gendry from the pub.

The street is cool and quiet after the closeness of Seaworth’s. Slowly they walk hand in hand to her car, Arya trying to stretch their remaining time together by digging in her bag for her keys. She’s enjoyed her evening and Gendry’s company and despite her long day tomorrow she isn’t ready for the night to end.

Gendry breaks the quiet, “I’m really glad you were able to come and we got to do this,” he says softly.

Arya sighs, “Me too.”

“Could we… Would you want to see each other again? Without those louts around thinking they’re being subtle?” There’s a hint of doubt in his voice, like he maybe thinks she only came out to the pub to meet the team. It’s adorable that he could possibly think she’d come out for the rest of those idiots and not for the idiot standing in front of her shuffling his feet nervously.

“I’d like that a lot,” she says, with a smile.

“Even if I’m that guy who ‘gets off on it’?” his sharp smile flashes in the light of the street.

Arya groans and covers her face with her free hand, “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” he says, warmly. He steps closer to her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, chasing away the cool, damp air of the Stormland’s night.

She looks up at him, his face is serious as he stares down at her, his blue eyes almost black in the street light. She’s caught in his gaze before her eyes drift down to his lips for just a moment before darting back up. He licks his lips and she wants nothing more than to feel them against her own. Feeling bolder than she ever has she stands on her tip-toes and presses her mouth to his. His arms wrap around her instantly and she runs a hand up his jaw to bury it in the hair at the back of his neck, her other braced on his chest over his racing heart as they kiss like their lives depend on it. Like the other is air and water and all those other life-giving requirements.

She lets out a soft sigh as she pulls away slowly, his mouth chasing hers as she drops back to her feet. Gendry’s arms stay wrapped around her, holding her tight against him as they stare at each other, chests heaving.

“Shit,” he says through panting breaths, and she giggles, “I mean, yeah. That was, yeah.” He nods vaguely, looking shell-shocked. He smiles down at her, a faint blush across his cheeks visible even in the low light.

Arya nods, “I agree. Wow.”

“You sure you have to go?” He keeps smiling at her as she groans and drops her head to his chest.

“Yes. I have work and class tomorrow and I do need to get some sleep tonight. But,” she lets go of him with one hand to dig in her bag again. With a small, triumphant, “Ha!” she pulls her phone out and unlocks it, pulling up the dial screen and hands it to him. He loosens one arm from around her to enter his number in, pressing send and hanging up when he feels his own phone buzz in his pocket. Arya returns her phone to her bag and pulls out the keys that were clipped to the strap on top the whole time. She unlocks her car and moves to step out of his arms. Gendry pulls her in for one final, fiery kiss before letting go of her and opening her car door for her.

“Arya?” he says, just before she closes it.

“Yeah?” she looks back at him, he’s tucked his hands into his pockets, his hair is in disarray from her fingers, and his lips look a little swollen. He’s never going to hear the end of it when he gets back to his teammates.

“I’m really glad you came out tonight.” He smiles one final, brilliant time as she closes the door and starts her car. He stays there on the sidewalk as she pulls out into the street and begins to make her way home. When she gets there she pulls out her phone and opens the most recent call to an unknown number. Pulling up the text box she types, “I’m really glad I came out tonight too”.

#gendrya #gendrya fanfic #meet cute #hockey player gendry #hockey fan arya #convenient platonic plot device ned dayne #I'm recovering from my second major surgery this year and needed something sweet #sweaty hockey playing gendry is what i needed #gendry waters #arya stark #my writing

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