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youunravelme · 4 months

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nothing happened in the way i wanted part 2

author's note: okay so here's part 2! sorry for making you wait, i like the anticipation lololol

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something! (these include the trigger warnings from part 1)

before

a piece of plastic should not be that big of a deal.

but it is when there are two pink lines staring back at you.

weren’t you and matt careful? he always wore condoms, you were on birth control, you two were so careful all the time—

wait.

shit.

except for a few weeks ago.

you were wearing a red bikini at a pool party and matt had tugged you into the guest bathroom. he didn’t have any condoms and you assured him it was fine.

but maybe it wasn’t fine.

because there were two fucking pink lines staring back at you. and the worst part? matt wouldn’t be home for another two hours or so.

you were hyperventilating, surely. that’s why you felt like you couldn’t breathe?

oh god.

you were going to have to figure out how to raise a child while matt was on the road. oh god, what if he didn’t want the baby? what if you didn’t want the baby? what if he didn’t want the baby or you?

you were pacing back and forth in your living room when matt came home, arms full of bags from his workout. they immediately dropped when he saw the look on your face.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “what happened? did someone die?”

you shook your head and burst into more tears. it was a mere second before you were wrapped up in his arms, one of his hands stroked your hair while the other stayed firmly put around your waist.

“baby, you’re scaring me.” at the sound of the pet name, you sobbed even harder. baby. there was a baby.

“i’m sorry, matty, i’m sorry,” you managed to get out between cries.

“what’re you sorry for, huh? you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

your hands were shaking as you pulled back from him, opening your palm to show the piece of plastic in your hand.

“what—” but matt seemed to have lost his voice at the sight of the pink lines staring back at him. “oh,” was the only thing he found fit to say.

“i’m sorry, matty. i thought it would be fine, but i went to the dollar store because i didn’t have any money and this was the only test available and—”

matt tugged you back into his chest. “it’s okay. we’ll figure it out.”

“we’re too young!” you wailed. “barely 20.”

“it’s one test, we’ll take another and if it’s still positive, we’ll go to the doctor,” he murmured against your hair. “wait,” he started. “where did you say you got the test?”

you pulled back, confused as to why his voice took a sudden turn from concern to something you couldn’t quite place. “dollar store, why?”

matt laughed. he threw his head back and laughed. “baby,” he started. “you chose a cheap test, it could be a false positive.”

you blinked. “is that how that works? i didn’t think—”

“let’s get another test, and we’ll take it, together.”

matt drove you both to the pharmacy, his hand on your thigh the entire ride. he went in alone, grabbed a box of clear blue and a bag of sour patch kids before he came back out. you almost burst into tears at the sight. as you ripped into the bag, matt’s hand found its way back to your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing patterns into your pants leg.

the sour patch kids had done the job of calming your nerves for the moments leading up to retaking a pregnancy test. matt held your hand while the two of you waited for the timer to go off.

“whatever the result is, i’m with you,” he mumbled against the side of your head. and when the timer went off, matt was the one to check it, you were too overwrought with nerves. he didn’t even check the test, wanting you to see the result first.

negative.

a sigh escaped your mouth. your shoulders sagged as tears came to your eyes. relief wasn't a strong enough word to describe how you were feeling in that moment. matt pressed a kiss against your temple and wrapped you in his arms.

“one day,” he said. “just not today.”

after

maybe you were a bit of a coward, waiting for tuesday to come around before you texted matt a good time to meet. you waited until the last two minutes of your lunch break before you sent him a message. the second you heard the whoosh sound, you put your phone on do not disturb and shoved it in your bag so you could forget about it.

frankie popped his head into the studio while you were hunched over a canvas, carefully scraping away the back side of it to clean.

“you busy?” he asked.

you looked up before glancing down at the giant canvas in front of you. “i can take a small break, my back is killing me. do you need me to clean up? how long do you need me?”

frankie shrugged. “not long, so you don’t have to put anything away. i just wanted to talk to you about your future.”

your stomach dropped. “is this a segue into firing me?”

“you’re so dramatic,” frankie chuckled. “no, you’re not being fired. i’m more so trying to get you in a place where you can be compensated fairly one day.”

you blinked. “are you not compensating me fairly right now?”

frankie rolled his eyes. “you have a lot of talent, and unfortunately, i can’t pay you any more until you get a graduate degree in art conservation.”

confused, you nodded. “i know,” you said. “i started here for experience to use on grad school applications.”

“and have you applied anywhere yet?”

you opened your mouth and then promptly shut it again. no, no you had not.

frankie sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, you’re talented, i’ve said that plenty of times already and i want you to be successful, whether that’s as a conservator or an independent freelance painter. what i don’t want is you staying in st. louis forever in this job waiting around for something to happen.”

waiting for something to happen.

waiting.

what exactly were you waiting for?

frankie continued. “i’ve emailed you some of the best conservation programs in the states if that’s a route you wanna go. i honestly think you could do conservation or freelance painting, you’d be great at either, but that’s a choice only you can make. if you want to go to grad school, i will gladly write as many letters of recommendations as you’d need, i’d even help you by asking clients for some if that’s what you want, but the ball is in your court.”

for a moment, you were floored, truly astounded that someone would go through those lengths to help you figure out your life. for now, all you could manage to say was a “thank you.”

“anytime,” frankie replied.

he left the studio room shortly thereafter so you could continue the mindless scraping once more.

when the work day was finally done, your hand was sore from the constant repetitive motions and your back ached from hunching over. but at least the scraping was done.

you grabbed your bag and car keys and headed out the front door. the aux was the first thing you reached for after locking yourself in the car. it wasn’t until you searched your bag to grab your phone that you remembered the text you sent matt earlier that day, the reason why your phone was on do not disturb.

you:

what does your week look like?

matt had responded two minutes after your initial text.

matty:

i’m free tonight, or any other time you’re free.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile on your face.

you:

i just got off work, let me go home and change and we can find a place to meet.

you barely managed to get the music flowing through the aux when your phone buzzed with a text.

matty:

you can always stop by the house? mom, dad, and taryn would love to see you. we could go on a walk around the neighborhood...

your stomach churned at the thought, it felt a little too close, too familiar. but there were very few places in that city that wouldn’t spark some sort of memory for you. you grew up there, you grew up there with matt. there were seldom spaces that weren’t deeply intertwined in your co written story with him.

you:

that’s fine.

neither of your parents were home when you got there, which was probably for the best, it meant you wouldn’t get asked where you were going or why you agreed to talk to matt after all this time.

you made the drive to his parents’ house. it felt as familiar as putting on the old t-shirt you’d stolen from your mom before you left for college. you didn’t need the gps, even after the time had passed.

you parked in the same spot you always did when you finally got a car to drive to matthew’s. it wasn’t like that spot on the street was used very often, not when you were dating at least. matt hated making you drive, especially when his car was newer and better and by all of his standards, safer than yours.

by the time you made it onto the front porch, taryn was opening the front door and smiling so wide, her eyes were squinting.

“you’re here!” she shrieked. it was only a matter of seconds before you were wrapped in her arms. “what brings you here?”

your mouth opened to respond, but you were promptly cut off.

“she’s with me.”

matt appeared over taryn’s shoulder looking every bit the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

taryn pulled back from the hug, her eyes wide. “what? she’s with—”

“not like that,” you smiled gently. “just came to talk, figure some things out.”

“are you staying for dinner?”

you looked at matt, unsure if that was something he’d even want. “it’s up to you, i won't force you to stay,” he said.

you shrugged. “we’ll play it by ear.”

matt nodded and moved past taryn. “you good for a walk?” he asked, eyes never once leaving your face. and you couldn’t help but stare back, getting lost in the pools of blue that once were your whole world. you felt yourself nod right before following him down the stairs and off the porch.

neither of you said anything until you were both sure his family couldn’t see you from their house anymore.

“thank you,” you said. “i should’ve said that the other night.”

matt shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “you don't need to thank me for that. i’m sorry that happened.”

“you couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”

“i could’ve told the bartender to stop giving him drinks when i saw how drunk you were.”

your head whipped to the side to look at him, but matt wouldn’t return your stare. his jaw was tightly clenched. “how’d you even know i was there?”

mat shrugged and kicked a rock out of the way. “i always notice you, even when i don’t mean to.”

there were no words coming to your mind, nothing you could say could add to the conversation. so you nodded and looked ahead of you.

“i wanted to apologize—”

“matt—”

“for everything.”

you stopped walking altogether. “don’t,” you said. “don’t say that. don’t apologize.”

matt’s brows pulled together, the corners of his lips turned down. “why?”

“because i don’t want it.” words you thought you’d never say.

did you mean them? it felt like you did. for months, you’d waited for a moment for him to apologize, to admit that he regretted it. but now that you were faced with this decision, you weren’t sure it was an apology you wanted.

“what do you want, then?” he asked, earnestly this time.

you looked down at your beaten up hokas, the ones you bought after moving back to missouri, needing something that didn’t used to stay in the apartment you shared with matthew. the shoes were only a few months old, but they were discolored and dirty. you wore them to work, and often got droplets of solvent or paint on them when you weren’t paying attention.

matt’s foot nudged your own. “what do you want?” he repeated.

“did you cheat on me?” your eyes were still trained on the ground, so you didn’t see the look of hurt in matt’s eyes. you only saw the way he stepped back immediately.

“what?” he asked, pain clear in his voice. “why would you think that? i would never do that to you. you have to know that, please know that i’d never cheat on you.”

you shrugged, still not making eye contact. maybe you were scared if you did, you’d start crying, and he’d seen you cry enough times since he’d been back in town. “you broke up with me over a five minute phone call, matt. it was out of the blue, didn’t make any sense. the only reason i could think of was that you got tired of me and found someone better.”

matt scoffed. “i could never find someone better than you,” he said. “and never in my wildest dreams or thoughts did i ever even consider cheating on you.”

you finally met his eyes. the once bright blue irises were now darker, whether in pain or anger, you didn’t know. you weren’t sure how much had changed with him since the break up. “then why’d you end it? why’d you wait until you were traded and nearly halfway into the season to tell me it’s over?”

“because i didn’t want you to move to florida.”

you figured as much, but it still stung hearing it confirmed.

“why?” you asked.

“because you kept putting off your life for me! i hated it!” matt was pacing now, shoving his hands through his hair.

at the same time, your head tilted. you wanted answers. you wanted the reason why he'd ended things out of nowhere and the reason he just gave you wasn’t enough. “what’re you talking about?”

matt stopped moving long enough to fix you with a look. “you wanted to go to ucla until i committed to notre dame. and then when i signed with calgary, you transferred after a year.”

“so?”

matt scoffed. “so?”

“i wanted to do that!”

“and i wanted you to be yourself, i wanted you to chase your dreams without worrying about me, without altering your life just to stay with me!”

you stepped back. “so you didn’t want me with you?”

“that’s not what i said!”

“then what are you trying to say, matt? we’re just not compatible? headed in two different directions?”

“i—” he groaned and ran a hand down his face before shoving that same hand through his disheveled curls. “i wanted to do right by you. you are so gifted, and you could’ve gone to any school you wanted, but you followed me. i didn’t want to be the reason you never got to do what makes you happy.”

“so you took the one thing i wanted away from me?”

“you weren’t going to choose yourself! you were never going to choose yourself, so i did.”

“that wasn’t your choice to make, matt!” you couldn’t help but want to rip your hair out. who was he to think he could make decisions for you?

he took a step closer to you before immediately stepping backwards and pacing. “i have known you my entire life,” he said. it was an exaggeration, you both knew it, but as you both got older, it was harder to remember the years before you were in each other’s lives. “you are the kindest person i know, the best person i know. you have made more than enough sacrifices for me, for this game i love. but i was tired of being the only one living out their dream. you love art, or at least you did. you loved it, you painted all the time growing up. but when you moved to calgary? you stopped. you went to my games, galas, team events, instead. i wanted you to have something that you loved just as much as i love hockey.”

“and what if that was you? what if i was okay just supporting you?”

he shook his head adamantly. “you deserve more than that. i love you too much to let you live like that.”

you furrowed your brow. “live like what? supporting the love of my life as he lives out his dreams?” you tentatively took a step closer to him, imploring matt to look at you. “why is that such a bad thing?”

“because what if it’s not enough?” he looked up. you were shocked to see tears brimming in his eyes. “what if one day, you wake up next to me and resent me for dragging you all over the continent for a stupid sport?”

“it’s not a stupid sport—”

“it is when i’ve seen it ruin people, ruin their relationships.”

“but you ruined ours when you broke up with me, matt. how does that make any sense?” his mouth opened and shut once, twice, three times before he avoided your eyes altogether. “matt, how does that make sense?” you took a step towards him, slowly but moving. “matt?”

“i could handle it if you hated me,” he said. “i could learn to live with it if it meant you got to be happy in the end.”

your heart broke, your face crumpled as you watched the man you’d loved for a decade shuffle shoe around what he was actually trying to say. “why couldn’t i be happy with you, matt? why isn’t that possible in your mind?”

you waited for him to say something. it felt like you waited forever. but you would’ve waited for the cows to come home if it meant honesty from him.

“because i’m never gonna be enough for that.”

you thought the phone call from six months ago ripped your heart in half, you fully believed he’d done the most damage then. if your heart was going to be broken again, surely it would be when you would inevitably see another girl hanging off his arm at brady and emma’s wedding.

but there you were, standing in front of the man you still loved, heart breaking even worse because he believed he wasn’t enough. he wasn’t enough.

“matt—”

“to me? you’re everything. you’re literally the smartest person i know and you’re so talented and kind and considerate.” he laughed a little under his breath. “i still remember you shaking in the goal while i practiced my shots. i was waiting for you to say you didn’t want to do it, but you did it because you knew how much it meant to me.”

you smiled as you remembered the moment he was talking about. you were eleven and your crush on matt was just starting to form. you would’ve done anything he asked even if it meant flinching every two seconds.

“breaking up with you was the worst thing i’ve ever done, but if it meant sparing you the life of forever being forced to follow me around, it would be worth it.”

you stepped closer to him, uncaring that the two of you had been having this conversation in the middle of the sidewalk of his neighborhood. “who put this idea in your head, matt? was it me? was it—”

“your parents.”

you barely even heard the “what” leave your lips, so you were unsure how matt did. he looked as uncomfortable as you felt.

“i was gonna propose when you moved to florida. i bought the ring before the season ended and over the summer i had every intention of asking your dad for his blessing.” matt cleared his throat before finally looking up at the sky. the sun, thankfully, was beginning to set, golden hour was coming soon. “you’d gone out with our moms, emma, and taryn, and i went over to your house to talk to your dad.”

you weren’t liking where the story was going.

“he asked if i would quit hockey for you.”

your stomach dropped to your feet.

“when i said i would in a heartbeat, he didn’t believe me.”

your stomach was in the core of the earth.

“matt...”

he swallowed and looked at you. “i would do it, you know. if you’d asked me, i would’ve given hockey up in a heartbeat to keep you.”

“i know, matty, i know,” you said, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. “what else did my dad say?”

matt shook his head.

“matt,” you implored.

but he didn't relent.

“matthew.” you took a step closer, finally, after months of little to no physical contact, your hand cupped his cheek. and like he had no control over his body, like he was acting on pure instinct, he leaned into your palm. “what did he say?”

he shook his head again. “i can’t.”

“you can.” you stroked your thumb along his cheekbone.

“he asked if this was the life i wanted for you. the moving around, the fighting, the crazy schedules, the tweets, all of it. he asked verbatim if that’s the kind of life i wanted you to live, if i wanted you under a microscope for the rest of our lives. he told me that he knew why i was there, and that if i thought you’d be happy to a life like that, then he'd give me his blessing.”

your hand shook a little, but matt’s hand steadied it against his face.

“it’s not that i thought you were weak,” he clarified. “it’s not that i didn’t want you, because i did. i just didn’t want you to be stuck with me for the rest of our lives.”

“is that what he said? that if we got married, i’d be shackled to you?”

matt shrugged, but in his silence, you found the answer.

“matty,” again, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. “i’m sorry, you should’ve said something—”

“and cause problems between you and your dad?” he shook his head. “you love him, i wasn’t gonna come between that.”

you could’ve cried at that sentiment. after all this time, he was still looking out for you. “thank you, matt. thank you for being honest.”

he gave you a small smile, one that broke your heart as much as it mended it. “you staying for dinner?”

the temptation was there, to go inside and sit in your old seat next to him, to feel your shoulders brush like they used to when the two of you were still together. maybe you’d laugh at something brady said, maybe you’d compliment chantal on her cooking.

but there were bigger fish to fry at home in the shape of your father.

so you shook your head no. “i think you know i have to go.”

matt nodded. “i get it.”

the two of you turned around and started walking back to your car. in the end, you didn’t walk very far so you were standing next to your vehicle in a matter of minutes.

“thank you for agreeing to talk,” matt said, his hands shoved deep in his pocket.

“thanks for telling me the truth.”

matt opened your door and braced his forearm on the roof of your car while you got in. “i’ll see you around?” he asked.

you smiled. “don’t be a stranger, tkachuk.”

he laughed and knocked on the roof of your car before shutting the door. you watched him in your rearview mirror as you drove away. all the years you were together, there were only a few times you could remember walking away from him.

the drive home was quiet, you were stewing on what you'd say to your dad when you got back. you were pissed, upset, angry.

but most importantly, you were in agony.

the man you loved your whole life let you hate him for six months so you wouldn't hate your dad. he let you make him into a villain so you had the support of your parents.

and maybe it was that thought process that had you throwing your car in park and storming up to your childhood home and all but slamming the front door wide open.

your mom and dad were sitting in the living room, neither of them interacting with the other in any meaningful way. no, this wasn’t the tkachuk house. your parents weren’t in love anymore, they were content with the idea of not having to find anyone else.

“matt was gonna propose to me?” you asked, chest already heaving from the anger coursing through your body. your eyes were on fire, if looks could kill and such.

your dad, to his credit, managed to catch onto what you were talking about immediately and put his book down.

but your mom cut in. “sweetheart, what're you—”

“ask him,” you interrupted, but didn't spare her a single glance, something you'd apologize for later. “go ahead, ask him what i’m talking about. ask dad why matt broke up with me out of nowhere.”

“honey....” your dad started. you waited for him to continue, to justify something, to say it was a huge misunderstanding, but he said nothing.

“alan, what is she talking about?”

you still wouldn't look at your mom. your eyes were fixed on the figure of your father who sat still in his recliner. “i went to talk to matt today, get some closure, figure out what went wrong with us. dad convinced matthew that i would feel shackled to him if he proposed, if we got married. he planted this idea in matt’s head that he wouldn’t be enough to keep me happy.”

that seemed to be enough to get your dad speaking. “you have so much potential, honey, i didn’t want to see it wasted chasing him around.”

you rolled your eyes. “i was happy to do it. he was everything to me.”

“and you should’ve been everything. you should want to be great, you should want to be a great painter, you should want to accomplish great things.” your dad gestured between himself and your mother. “you think we want this for you? to choose a partner just based on love? what happens when that love runs out? what happens when you get married, have kids, and matthew get bored on the road? what then?”

your stomach twisted at the thought. “matt would never.”

“maybe not, honey. but you have to understand, i was looking out for you.”

you scoffed before you could stop yourself. “looking out for me? you literally held me while i sobbed a few weeks ago and told me that maybe matt had changed when you knew damn well the reason things had ended.” you ran a hand down your face and laughed bitterly. “do you wanna know the worst part about this? you let me believe the worst things about the man who has loved me most of my life.

“you let me hate the man who wanted nothing more than to protect my happiness. and then you had me going on absolute bullshit pep talks to myself every morning where i’d tell myself i’m fine, that matthew brendan tkachuk was just a guy i dated for almost half my life and that there are plenty of fish in the sea to choose from. and that i’m a woman, a strong, intelligent, and capable woman that any man would be lucky to have! but i went on a date the other night and something really awful almost happened, but matt was there and he made sure i was okay. he took my vitriol in stride, he protected me without ruining my life, something you can’t seem to do.”

your dad, to his credit took your spewing words with a straight face. he didn’t interrupt you once.

your shoulders were heaving with the force of breaths you were taking to get all those words out. your heart was pounding in your chest. you were angry. angry. angry.

until it dissipated at the look on your parents’ faces.

tears replaced the anger quite quickly.

“i get you were trying to protect me, but you should’ve seen the look on his face when he told me. dad, i love you, but you damn near ruined my life.”

your father nodded, a shattered look on his face. “sweetheart i—if i’d known—” he cleared his throat. “i’m sorry. i thought i was doing right by you, trying to keep you from making the same mistakes.”

“and what mistakes are those? falling in love? getting married to the person you loved? getting to live the rest of your life together?”

“falling complacent,” your mother said. “getting too comfortable, becoming roommates instead of lovers.” your mother was picking at her nail beds, refusing to look at either of you. “i was not a part of the conversation your dad had with matthew, but i will not lie and say that your behavior didn’t concern me, because it did.” your mother held a hand up when you opened your mouth. “you didn’t have any ambition! you were sacrificing your dreams for him, aimlessly following him.”

“mom—”

“i have found myself lost before, lost in this marriage, lost in motherhood, lost in my job. i did not want that for you, neither of us did.” your mother stood from her seat on the couch and walked towards you. she placed her hand on your cheek. “i know you love him, and maybe he’s your person, but we did not,” she cleared her throat, “i did not want you to grow up regretting and resenting matt because you were too young to know what you wanted.”

your mom’s thumb traced your cheekbone. she stared you down with the eyes that matched your own. “do you remember when you were younger, you would draw these beautiful pieces with your colored pencils?”

you nodded.

“you don’t draw anymore, sweetheart. your art supplies are still in a box in the attic where they have been since you've moved back home. from my viewpoint, i see the little girl i raised chasing the man she loves and neglecting herself in the process. you’ve spent most of your life following matthew, but what about you? when will it be your turn?”

your bottom lip wobbled.

you were nine years old again, showing matt the self portrait you did and watching his face light up.

“you should draw me sometime!” he said.

and you did. all through middle school, high school, undergrad, all of it was matt matt matt matt matt. even if it wasn’t his face, even if it wasn’t hockey related, it was matt. the colors swirling together, the passion beneath the oils, all of it reflecting him.

you were so pissed at your dad, for telling matt what he did, but you were pissed at yourself as well, for neglecting who you were.

who were you anyway?

the fight left you pretty soon after your mother’s words were spoken. the hard truth of them still lingered in the air.

you went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you would paint if the surface was a canvas instead.

before

you would’ve never picked up your phone had you known what was waiting on the other side of it.

the day started off simple enough. your apartment was a mess, usually at that time of year, it would be covered in christmas decorations and presents would be wrapped under the tree you and matt picked out from a tree farm. this time, there were boxes strewn about the room in anticipation of the move you’d be making to florida in just a few weeks. the plan was you’d fly into st. louis and have all your belongings that you didn’t need to survive, shipped to your new home in florida.

you were in the middle of packing up the last of your summer clothes into a box when matt called. it felt like a flip had been switched, because any exhaustion that was set deep in your bones from the work week disappeared the second you saw his contact photo on your lock screen.

“hey!” you said, smile so wide, your cheeks ached. “how’re you doing?”

“hey,” he replied, but his voice sounded off.

“everything okay?” you asked. “i saw the game last night, i’m sorry about the loss.”

“don’t worry about it.”

“oh,” you said. “well i have most of the apartment packed up, just need to put the rest of my clothes in my suitcases. i’ve already arranged the rest of our things to be shipped and—”

“i don't think you should move to florida.”

all the words in the world and all you could say was “what?”

matt sighed over the other end of the phone. “i didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“but you still meant to say it?”

“look, this isn’t easy for me to admit but, i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move to florida. i don't even think it’s a good idea to keep this going.”

“keep what going?”

he sighed again. “this, us, our relationship. i just don’t think it’s working.”

well that was news to you.

you swallowed, your hands were shaking. it wasn’t until you couldn’t see straight that you realized you were crying.

“since when? i thought we were fine! what did i miss? what can i do to fix this?”

the battle of alberta had nothing on matt’s silence ringing through the phone. with each passing second, you felt the hope of repairing and fixing your relationship dwindle.

“i don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

the world had stopped spinning, even as he continued on, talking about the next steps you'd need to take, how he would continue to pay the lease, he’d cover the moving expenses to switch destinations of your things.

it all made you want to vomit.

how could he speak about the logistics of your break up when you felt like you couldn’t get past the actual reality of your breakup? your world was caving in and he seemed fine.

at the end of the call, he apologized. “i’m sorry,” he said.

all you could say was “okay.”

five minutes, your phone said when you looked at the call log.

matthew tkachuk had ruined your life in five fucking minutes.

after

frankie had to be the weirdest boss you ever had. when you called him and said you needed a few days off to sort things out in your personal life, he jumped at the chance to tell you to take a day or two off immediately.

“i can’t pay you for those days, but if it means you feel better, go ahead and take off. we’ll be fine.”

which is how you ended up sitting in your room for eight hours, staring at a blank canvas.

your hands shook anytime you reached for a paintbrush. what if it was the wrong brush? the wrong color? what if it was bad? ugly? what if you hated it?

you'd communicated those same thoughts to simone over the phone when you called on her lunch break, trying to keep yourself from crying over a blank canvas.

“it’s gonna be difficult at first,” she started. “but you have to start somewhere, even if it’s just a dot in the middle of the canvas.”

and you'd repeated her words in your head, yet you couldn’t force yourself to do anything about it. this was supposed to be about you, yet everything you were doing reminded you of him. it was the particular blue you used to mix together to represent his eyes. it was the red from calgary. it was the yellow that reminded you of the t-shirt you wore when matt first kissed you.

what would you even paint? the living room of your first shared apartment? saddledome? this was supposed to be about you, so why did you keep wanting to make it about matt? what was wrong with you? your parents were right, you lost yourself in trying to be the most supportive girlfriend around.

the second day didn’t produce much results either and when you finally went back to work, you looked and felt like you hadn’t rested at all.

“that bad, huh?” frankie asked.

“i didn't think it’d be that hard to paint, it’s literally never been that hard before.”

“you gotta just let it go.” when he didn't say anything else, you gestured for him to continue. “stop expecting it to be a masterpiece or to be meaningful, art is about you, not perfection.”

“but—”

frankie held a hand up, just like your mother had. “when you're here, it’s about doing right by the painting, the art itself. when you create though, it’s about doing right by you.”

you floated through your workday, your fingers itched to do something more than scraping dirt and grime off the back of a canvas. they longed for the oil based paint to stick to them. they longed for the cramping in your hand that came from holding a brush too long.

but you started.

you turned on some classical music and started.

you weren’t even sure what you were painting until you were staring back at the ice rink in front of you, empty, just like you were feeling. you should’ve known it would've had something to do with ice.

maybe it was foolish to believe you could completely get rid of matt in one painting. you'd known him longer than you hadn’t. but frankie’s words kept echoing in your head.

it’s about doing right by you.

so instead of painting matt or his number, or the curls on top of his head, you painted something else entirely. blurred figures raced past a lone frame standing completely still. the slumped shoulders of the person in stuck in one place, the lack of proper equipment, no ice skates, no sweater.

after days of painting and plotting and painting and waiting, it was finished. an ice rink with a person completely stationary while life moves around her.

it wasn’t your best piece, but it was your most honest.

it was like a dam had been broken because you couldn’t stop painting the silly little pieces of your feelings. you were losing space in your bedroom, and your phone had been neglected for two weeks.

now, you still responded to texts in the bridesmaid group chat, and you texted simone frequently. but your brain was taken up by this reawakened, once dormant, passion of yours. it was all you could think about.

your fingers were practically permanently stained with paint. you hadn’t changed out of your paint clothes all weekend, living in the spandex and one of your dad’s old t-shirts. the past few days, you’d been a hermit, only leaving the house to go to work. and while you weren’t completely anti social, you weren’t going out of your way to get in contact with people.

your parents were out on a rare date night while you were up in your room adding little details to your painting. the music playing through your phone’s speakers had lulled you into another world. you were all but lost to reality.

thump.

you paused, brush poised over the canvas. you listened again for the sound but heard nothing. so you continued.

thump thump.

you glanced at the window just in time to see a rock hit it. before you could stop yourself, you sighed and chuckled.

you felt like you were in high school again.

when you opened your window, sure enough matt was standing outside with a handful of stones in his hands. “you busy?” he asked.

at the sight of his boyish smile, your heart leapt. “what’re you doing here?”

he shrugged. “just wanted to see you.”

be careful, your head warned you. he’s not yours anymore.

but your heart didn’t give a shit. try as hard as you might, you were almost positive you’d love matt the rest of your life. “you couldn’t knock on the door?”

he shrugged again. “i tried, you didn’t hear me.” he shifted on his feet. “so are you busy?”

you glanced back at the painting you'd been obsessing over all day and decided you could leave it for a little while. “gimme a sec.”

very quickly, you cleaned up your art supplies before you ran down the stairs. you snagged your keys out of the basket by the door and locked the front door behind you.

matt had moved off your lawn and was now propped up against the passenger door of his car. “wanna go for a drive?”

how could you deny him anything when he looked so happy to see you?

“you’ve been busy,” he said as soon as he pulled out of the driveway. you did your best not to pay attention to how good his arm looked behind your head rest as he backed out into the street.

“how do you figure?”

matt put the car in drive, but before he pulled away, he gestured to your forehead. “you have paint, everywhere.” you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you opened the sun visor to look in the mirror. sure enough, streaks of paint covered your cheeks. matt reached over and shut it with one hand. “stop it,” he said. “you look great.”

“even with the paint?”

“especially with the paint. you look happy again.” a beat passed. “are you?”

you thought about it for a moment. a few weeks ago, you were in the trenches, suffocating in the unknown, drawing in questions that had no answers. and while you were still single, even as you sat in the passenger seat of the man that you still loved, you felt capable. you felt like you could handle life. no longer were you floating, waiting for a strong breeze to blow you away from your reality. you still might depend on having wind in your sails, but at least you were a boat with a steering wheel instead of a helium balloon.

“i think i’m getting there. i’m not as angry anymore, i’m painting again.” you gestured to your face. “though you could probably tell.

“what have you been painting?”

how could you explain it? how could you possibly articulate that while you were still searching for what it meant to be you, you had somehow uncovered fragments of yourself that you’d lost along the way?

“myself.”

matt smiled, his eyes crinkled in the corners. “that’s what i like to hear. you enjoying it?”

“more than i thought i would, once i got over the fear.”

“fear? what were you scared of?”

you picked at the dirt under your fingernails. “not being good enough.”

matt made a sound between a scoff and a snicker, like the words coming out of your mouth were so incredibly stupid it was both alarming and hilarious. “are you fucking with me? you’re the most talented person i know!”

you rolled your eyes before you could stop yourself. “you play with some of the best athletes in the world—”

“and none of them could hold a candle to you.” he braked easily when you came up to a red light.

and you weren’t sure why you said what you said next, maybe it was the intimacy of the environment or maybe, when it came down to it, you wanted matt to hear all your updates first.

“i think i’m gonna apply to more grad schools again. i talked to frankie, he gave me some information and said he’d write as many recommendations as i needed.”

you wanted to be brave and look at matthew, you wanted to see his reaction in real time. but you couldn’t bring yourself to. whether that was because the moment felt too intimate for eye contact between exes or the you were afraid you'd see real time disappointment, you weren’t sure.

“is that something you wanna do?” his voice was soft. you could feel his eyes on your profile.

that was a question you'd asked yourself over and over again. was it something you were legitimately interested in? or were you like every twenty-something who applies for grad school when they don't know what else to do?

“i think there's just as much beauty in restoring as there is in creating.” in a split second, you decided you could be brave, so you looked back at him. “i don’t think i should have to choose between one of the other.

matt nodded, his hands white against the steering wheel. “do you think everything deserves a chance at restoration?” he asked, his blue eyes filled with a sincerity only he could replicate.

“i think anything can be fixed if someone cares enough to try.”

feeling bold, you spared him a glance from the corner of your eye. matt had his head down for a brief moment, a small smile on his lips.

there were words that hung in the air like the car freshener on matt’s rearview mirror, yet neither of you spoke them. both of you were more than content to bask in the silence rather than answer unasked questions that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

before

matt wasn’t at school that day, and you were the reason why. he hardly ever missed, even with his busy hockey schedule and his dad’s games, chantal always made sure to have her kids in school. if they weren’t rich, you’d assume his parents had the same thought process your grandparents did: they weren’t forking out all this money just for their kids to be absent all the time.

which brought you back to your original thought.

matt wasn’t at school.

and you were the reason.

well. that wasn’t entirely true. matt’s decisions were his own, even if the two of you were in fifth grade, you were both mature enough to own your mistakes.

and he made a big one.

it started at the beginning of the school year when jared, a new kid, started bothering you during class. you'd done what your parents had taught you and told the teacher. but mrs. wright just looked at you with a condescending smile and said:

“aw honey, he just has a crush on you!”

you were met with the same excuse each time you told her.

you’d tried to keep it to yourself, done your best to get over it, but he was too forward. on monday, he teased the way your uniform looked, which was a sore subject because your parents couldn’t afford to buy you a new uniform and your grandparents were being stingy with money in an effort to manipulate your mother. you were old enough to start recognizing that now.

on tuesday, jared criticized your doodles on a sheet of scrap paper, saying they looked childish. wednesday was no better, he snickered and pointed at you when you messed up a note playing hot cross buns on your recorder. thursday was when things took a left turn.

jared hadn't been at school for long to fully understand the dynamic between you and matt, not like the other kids did. he was smart enough to approach you when matt wasn’t around for the most part. maybe it was the confidence of the lack of punishment and accountability from your teacher and school administration that made him bold enough to tug on your hair and push you down during recess right in front of matthew.

you didn’t have enough time to shed a tear before matt was on jared.

to put it simply, physically fighting someone was grounds for suspension. it probably should’ve been a longer suspension had you and your parents not said jared had been harassing you for weeks now with no consequences.additionally, the amount of money the tkachuks sewed into the school probably helped lessen his punishment too.

“you shouldn’t have beat him up,” you said. the two of you were sitting on the back porch of matt’s house. originally, you expected matt to be grounded from seeing you as a punishment, but given the context, keith and chantal both said it would've been unfair.

matt shrugged. “he should’ve kept his hands to himself.” his words sounded similar to the ones you heard from his father earlier that day when you and matthew were sitting outside the principal’s office.

“mr. tkachuk, we do not condone violence at this school.”

“but you do condone harassment? bullying? my son was doing what your administration failed to do, and that’s protect his best friend.”

“i don't like it when you're in trouble.”

“and i don’t like seeing some jerk hurt you.” matt nudged your knee with his own. “besides, i’ll be back on monday. ‘s not like i was expelled.”

“just don’t make it a habit.”

“no promises,” he said. “i’ll always fight for you.”

after

the wedding approached faster than you thought it would. you spent the last seven months dreading emma and brady’s big day, scared of what seeing matt in a tux would do to your heart. originally, you didn't think you could handle it, you never thought you'd actually get to the wedding day and not want to cancel last minute.

but now you were standing in the bridal suite adding finishing touches to your makeup in the vanity feeling every bit of happiness for emma that you were faking just months ago.

life was starting to turn around for you. just last week, frankie had helped you finish your applications to some grad programs in art restoration and conservation. you were holding out hope for nyu, but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“how’re you feeling?” taryn came up behind you where you were lined up in preparation to walk .

“ready for some wine and the reception,” you answered honestly. “i’m so excited.” and you were telling the truth for once. your smile felt genuine.

“matt will be excited to see you,” she said. “you look so pretty.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your lips. “oh hush, this isn’t about us, not even remotely close.”

taryn rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “maybe...” she trailed off before the wedding planner was moving her into position.

your hands shook as you held the bouquet. lily, one of the other bridesmaids looked back at you and mouthed “are you okay?” when you nodded and gave her a shaky smile, she turned around.

you weren’t nervous for a good reason, but walking in front of crowds always scared you. what if you tripped? what if the heel of your shoe broke? what if what if what—

but then it was your turn to walk down the aisle and every anxious thought went quiet the second you saw matthew.

it really wasn’t fair, how he could put you at ease so easily, without even saying a single word. how his blue eyes would meet yours and the racing of your heart would beat for a different reason. sure, there were moments where you were anxious around him, around the feelings that came with dating for ten years, but the truth was you never felt more safe than you did in his arms.

you kept your eyes locked on his as you walked down the aisle. not once did you stumble or fall. though, you nearly laughed out loud when he winked at you. a flush creeped into your cheeks when he smirked. you’d known him most of your life and you were still reduced to a school girl whenever he looked at you. when you made it to the end, you took your spot next to lily, taryn eventually took the spot next to you.

personally, you loved weddings. you cried every time. so obviously you were wiping tears with brady when emma walked down the aisle. it was almost surreal, watching the boy you knew as when he was eight years old was now marrying the love of his life. when did you grow up? when did that happen?

you met matt’s eyes over brady’s shoulder. in another life, it would've been you two getting married. the very thought sent an ache through your chest, but it didn't hurt the way it did a few months ago, hell, even a few weeks ago.

sure, you might not have ended up with matt, but you reconciled. he would still be in your life, even if it wasn't in the same capacity as before. that thought used to be debilitating, now you were just thankful he was around at all.

the crowd cheered as brady kissed emma. you could barely see them through the tears. you managed to wipe most of them away in time to walk back down the aisle. you were supposed to be linking arms and walking back down the aisle with quinn hughes. so when matt was standing there and holding his arm out, you almost stumbled back out of sheer confusion. in a haze, you took his arm.

“you weren’t supposed to walk me,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

matt scoffed and pulled you a little closer. “like i was letting hughes walk you back down the aisle. that’s my job.”

“you messed up the order.”

he shrugged like the idea didn't bother him in the slightest. “brady will get over it, if he even notices.” the two of you had just walked down the aisle when you went to pull away, but his arm tightened around yours. “you look beautiful,” he said before releasing your arm and walking off.

it felt like you were stuck, rooted where you were standing, until the wedding planner ushered you along to take photos.

you were floating through the pictures, only barely remembering to smile and look at the camera. matt’s words floated around in your head in an endless loop.

when it was time for dinner, you entered with quinn like you were supposed to (and to matt’s chagrin). brady and emma did not want to confuse the dj who was announcing everyone. quinn indulged your excitement and twirled you under his arm as the two of you walked out. there was a huge smile on your face at the sheer fun of it all, a smile that didn't dissipate until you were both seated with the rest of the wedding party.

you were happily chatting with quinn, asking him about how his girlfriend was, and eating your dinner when emma’s maid of honor stood up and started her speech. to be quite frank, you knew it was a beautiful nod to her friendship with emma, but you weren’t fully paying attention, too enraptured with the food and wine in front of you. though, you did clap where you were supposed to and laughed when everyone else did.

it wasn’t until matt stood up to give his speech that you were dialed in. and maybe that made you a horrible person.

you knew matt well enough to know he didn't prepare a speech, not like the maid of honor did. he'd told you so once brady and emma got engaged.

“are you not gonna write your speech down?”

“nope,’ he said, popping the p.

“but he's your brother.”

“the only one who is getting a planned and fleshed out speech is you, when i propose and when we get married. everyone else gets the improvised speech.”

so you weren't surprised when he didn’t have a slip of paper in his hand like the maid of honor.

“thank you all for coming to celebrate the marriage of brady and emma with us. i know it means a lot to them, to see the support they have all around,” he began. “i’ve known brady his whole life, obviously. so i know better than most that he’s a menace to society. both on and off the rink. but seeing him with you, emma, well you’ve brought the little bit of good out in him.” the crowd chuckled at the slight, you even cracked a smile, especially when brady flipped him off.

“love is the best thing this world has to offer,” he continues. “who are we without it? what is life without it?” matt looked around the room until his eyes settled on you, locked in. “falling in love is, dare i say, better than the game itself. once you experience it, there is no game that could hold a candle to the feeling. i’ve found it, and i’m happy that you, brady and emma, found it too. just hold onto it, don’t let it go. not when it gets hard, especially not when things look bad. it’s those times you hold on tighter.”

maybe it was the lighting, but his eyes looked a little misty.

matt cleared his throat. “so here’s to the bride and groom, may you have nothing but good years ahead.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat and clapped along with everyone else. but matt’s eyes never left yours. you could feel his gaze on your face even as you talked to quinn. but he was on the other side of the table closer to brady.

it wasn’t until the dancing started that he even approached you.

outkast’s hey ya blasted over the speakers when matt found you. his hand immediately slid into yours as he tugged you closer.

“great speech!” you shouted over the music. “did you prepare it beforehand?”

matt spun you around. “you know i didn’t. i’m saving prepared speeches for special occasions.”

you expected the answer but played dumb anyway. “your brother’s wedding not a big enough occasion?”

he scoffed, like the very idea was offensive. “not even remotely close. only the love of my life deserves the written speeches.” he pulled you a little closer. your stomach twisted at the thought of him falling in love with someone else, but it didn't hurt the way it would've months ago. “but considering i broke up with her before i could propose, that’s not happening any time soon.”

your heart lurched in your chest, yet you felt yourself stepping back. “matt....”

he sighed like he knew what you were going to say. “i know we need to talk, and that this isn't the time, but can i just dance with you tonight? like nothing changed?”

and in the end, you wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

you allowed him to spin you around and hold you close when the music slowed down. you allowed yourself to pretend all of it was real. you allowed yourself to live in this fictitious world where new jersey was the happiest place on earth simply because you had matt. the last seven months hadn't happened, you were still together, your future was certain, and maybe one of these days, he'd get down on one knee and ask for forever.

you played pretend even when the night was coming to a close. even when you were all waving goodbye to emma and brady. even when you gathering your things, matt was there, holding your bags for you and walking you to the car you rented.

“when do you fly back to st. louis?” he asked.

“tomorrow. i have work on monday.”

he grimaced. “frankie wouldn't let you off?”

you rolled your eyes and smiled. “some of us don't make millions of dollars and need to pay our bills, matt.”

“right,” he said. “forgot about that.” he cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. “do you think we could get coffee when i get back in town? i really think we should talk.”

you reached out and took his hand in yours. “just let me know when you’re back.”

and he did. days later when you were back at work on your lunch break, you got a text from him. before you could stop yourself, a smile lit up your face.

matty:

just landed, when are you free?

the two of you met at a park not too far from your homes, deciding that you two needed privacy to talk and sitting in a coffee shop where matt’s face was well known wasn’t ideal. it felt like it used to, with the two of you walking side by side, matt walking a little slower to match your pace. your arms occasionally brushed.

“everything okay?” you asked when the silence started to make you anxious.

matt looked at you and smiled. “yeah,” he said. “just wanted to talk.”

“about what?”

“us. what happens next.” when you didn't say anything, he continued. “i wanted to apologize—”

“there’s nothing to apologize for, matt. i understand—”

“but i should’ve just communicated with you instead of letting my insecurity and the pressure get to me. i should’ve done better.”

you bumped your shoulder into his bicep. “you did what you thought was best, i can’t blame you for that.”

matt ran a hand down his face and sighed. “i wish you wouldn’t be so understanding,” he said. “i wish you'd just say that what i did sucked.”

“but i get it—”

“i get that you get it, but i need you to be honest with me.”

“okay,” you said. “i’ll be honest. i hated every single rose you've ever gotten me, but i was too afraid to say anything because you looked so happy to give them to me. and i know it’s what your dad would bring home to your mother after roadies. i hated that you never remembered my coffee order, you changed it every single time, but i accepted it and tried it because i saw how proud of yourself you were and how much it meant to you that you got me a drink. and i hated that you ended things over a phone call with no explanation. i hated that i spent seven months agonizing over what i did wrong.” you swallowed the emotion bubbling up. “but i understand why you did it, and in another life, i might have done the same.”

matt’s hand brushed yours. you thought he was going to leave it at that, a gentle touch, but he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers “i wish you would've told me you hated roses.”

you smiled and shrugged, squeezing his hand in yours. “seeing how happy you were outweighed the hatred for roses. it was the thought that counted.”

“so what is your favorite flower?”

“red anemones.”

matt pulled out his phone and typed something into his notes app. “what’s your coffee order?” when you told him, he typed something else into the note. “i do care about that stuff,” he said. “i didn't mean to seem dismissive.”

“you remembered the important stuff like anniversaries and my birthday. you remembered that i hate driving in snow, you used to pick me up from school every time there was more than an inch on the ground.” you squeezed his hand again so he'd look at you. “you weren’t a shit boyfriend for forgetting the little things, matt. in fact, you were a really good boyfriend until you broke up with me.”

he didn’t say anything for a moment, choosing to bask in the summer sounds of the park. “do you think we could try again one day?”

it was a question you'd asked yourself multiple times since the conversation where you found out the truth behind the break up that nearly ruined you. could you two do it again? do it right this time? there was no way to know.

“i don’t know.”

a beat passed. “would you want to?”

would you? being with matt was all that you dreamed about but would you want to risk the heartbreak again? would you want to take the chance that it wouldn’t work out a second time?

yes. it was an easy yes.

heartbreak was inevitable, but you wouldn’t want your heart to be broken by anyone but matt.

but you could love him and also want to prioritize yourself and your wants and desires. you had a plan for your future that didn’t involve him for once. maybe he’d be there years later, but there was no guarantee. if you got into grad school, you wouldn’t be moving to florida. and while long distance had worked before, there was no assurance that things would again.

so you said “maybe one day,” and gave him a smile.

“one day,” he replied. “in the meantime, can we be friends?”

one more time, you squeezed his hand, tugging him a little closer, his arm bumping into your shoulder. “i’ll always be your friend at the very least, from here on out.”

after what looked like a moment of hesitation, matt pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

after

when matt flew back to florida for the season, you fully expected him to stop talking to you. with distance being a factor, it was easy for you to assume he'd text whenever he wasn't tired or out partying.

but he texted you every waking and unoccupied minute of his day. in all honesty, you were worse at replying than he was. everything felt like high school again, in the days leading up to your first kiss.

you felt like you got your best friend back.

it started with him telling you about his day, asking about yours, and evolved into him telling you a joke he'd heard that day, a tiktok that reminded him of you, remembering your schedule.

god your heart leapt every time he texted you. it was pathetic, but you loved it.

you loved him.

it wasn’t a scary thought, you’d never stopped loving him even after the breakup. to act like you ever stopped was crazy.

and when you got into grad school? he was the first person you called.

it was nearly a year after he ended things, and there you were, calling him on the phone. you waited for him to pick up, for a moment, you were scared he wouldn’t answer. the phone kept ringing and your anxiety built up as the seconds went on. maybe he was busy or his phone was in the other room. or worst case scenario, he was ignoring your call, out with someone else. what if you annoyed him? what if—

“hey!” his cheery voice sounded over the phone. “everything okay? you usually don't call at...” he trailed off. “...3pm?”

you could’ve cried at the sound of his voice, the relief hitting you all at once. “i got in,” you replied.

“what—” he choked. “you got in? nyu’s program?”

you nodded before realizing he couldn't see you, stunned at the news and the fact that he immediately knew what you were talking about. “i did.”

he sighed over the phone. “god, baby, i’m so proud of you.” your heart swooped at the pet name, no longer angering you like it did months ago. “what did your parents say?”

“i haven’t told them yet,” you said. “i just found out.”

he paused. “and you called me.” he didn’t bother asking.

“and i called you. maybe that makes me a horrible daughter for not telling my literal parents but i just wanted to tell you first.”

he paused again. “why?”

your stomach twisted with nerves, your hands felt sweaty. “you know why.”

“i need to hear you say it. tell me there’s still hope.”

“matty—” you cut yourself off with a shaky inhale. “matt, we shouldn't.”

“why not? i love you, i’m sorry but i love you. i fucked up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me because i was scared.”

“matt, we shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone...”

“then i’ll book a flight.”

you closed your eyes and smiled. this was a side of matt that you knew, someone who’d drop anything for someone he loved or the game he adored.

“you have games and practice,” you reminded him.

you could practically hear the scowl through the receiver. “we play the blues in a week. can we talk about this then? i’ll take you out to dinner.”

“you usually get dinner with your parents.”

matt scoffed through the phone. “i see them enough, i want to be with you.”

you smiled because you just couldn't help yourself. “we’ll talk about this in a week,” you agreed.

matt whooped over the phone, the glee evident in his tone. “i’m really proud of you,” he said, changing the subject back to the original point of the call. “grad school is a big deal. you worked so hard to get here.”

“thank you, matty.”

“i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

the week leading up to the panthers vs. blues game was agonizing. you kept thinking of his confession over the phone:

i love you, i’m sorry. i love you, i’m sorry. i love you.

his words rattled around in your head like the cartoon birds that would fly over a concussed cartoon character.

five more days.

then four.

then three.

two.

tomorrow.

today.

matt bought you tickets to the game, one that you offered to simone, but she declined saying she “wouldn't want to be in the way.” when you told her she wouldn't, that you would like her company, she laughed.

“honey,” she said. “there is no one else in the room whenever you and matt are around each other.”

you’d flushed when she said that, but didn't deny it.

your mother and father were seated in the living room when you came bounding down the stands to head out to the game. “you going to see him?” she asked. there was a fond look in her eye, one that only brightened when you smiled and nodded. “have so much fun, honey.”

you looked to see if your dad would say something, but he just nodded and went back to reading his book. it was fine, you were past caring what other people thought of you. in a month, you'd be moving to new york for school and out this cycle of mediocrity and settling. you bid your parents goodbye and left.

there was no time to waste when you got to the arena. you immediately made your way to the seat matt paid for and waited. you were a bit outnumbered in your panthers jersey (again, courtesy of matt), but he was no stranger to the st. louis crowd.

you were sitting close enough to the glass to be spotted when matt came out for warm ups. he tossed a few pucks to the kids next to you, but his eyes never left yours. the smile on his face eased the anxiety about coming, the anxiety about the conversation you'd have afterwards.

seeing him beam at only you? the world could've stopped turning and you didn't think you'd even care.

the game, unfortunately, did not turn out in their favor. with a 4-1 loss, you were two seconds away from asking matt to reschedule. the conversation both of you needed to have shouldn’t be done when he was coming off a loss.

nevertheless, your phone vibrated with a text.

matty:

where’d you park?

you replied with the vague location of your vehicle and headed that direction. you weren’t sure how he beat you out there, but he was propped against your driver’s side door like it was a luxury car and not the used vehicle you’d had since you were sixteen.

he held his hand out, and to anyone who didn’t know any better, they might think he wanted to hold your hand. but you tossed him your keys and he caught them mid air.

matt unlocked the car and threw his bag in your backseat while you got in the passenger seat.

“where are we going?”

“waffle house.”

suddenly, you were seventeen again, sitting shotgun in matt’s car at 2 am when neither of you could sleep. sometimes, you'd go to a 24 hour drive through and sit in the parking lot to eat. but your favorite moments were spent in a waffle house booth that had a half ass wipe down and food prepared by people who’d rather be anywhere else.

it was the best food you’d ever had every single time.

the bonus was that no one asked any questions, no one batted an eye at the son of keith tkachuk sitting in a waffle house at 2 am.

matt knew the drive by heart and minutes later, you were entering the establishment, trying not to slip on the greasy floors.

both of you slid into a booth and picked up the menus.

“didn’t think you could eat this stuff, with your diet and what not.”

matt shrugged. “it’s the holiday season, i’m allowed a few cheat days?”

you quirked a brow, remembering a time in calgary where you fixed dinners based on the diet given to you by the team nutritionist once she realized matt didn’t and couldn't cook. “i didn’t think that was allowed.”

“what they don't know won't kill ‘em.” he gestured to the menu. “what do you want?”

“you mean you don’t remember?” you teased.

matt rolled his eyes and gestured to the waiter. he recited both of your orders with an alarming amount of accuracy, given the fact the two of you hadn’t eaten at a waffle house in over a year.

“what?” he asked when he saw you looking after the server walked away.

“how do you remember that but not my coffee order?”

he blushed a little. “i feel like your coffee order changed with the seasons—”

“because they have seasonal drinks, matthew!” you exclaimed with a laugh.

“your waffle house order is simpler, easier for me to remember.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face but accepted his answer. you sipped at your water and stared at him. “so what did you want to talk about?”

matt flinched back, like the sudden change in topic slapped him in the face. “what? you didn’t wanna wait until we got our food?”

you shrugged. “i’d feel less anxious if we just talked about it now.”

matt reached across the table and grabbed your hand in his own. it felt like being twenty-two again, living with matthew in calgary and holding hands under the table when you hung out with him teammates. his palm fit perfectly in your own.

“you don’t need to be anxious, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything.”

“i just wanna know what's’s going on in your head.”

matt’s thumb stroked the back of your hand. “you are all that’s in my head right now,” he confessed. “i get it, i fucked up by breaking up with you a year ago. and if i could go back, i would in a heartbeat. i would tell you everything i told you a week ago. that i love you and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that my insecurities got in the way, that i made a decision for you and in doing so, made you doubt my love for you.”

he continued. “but if you hear nothing else, hear me when i say i love you from the deepest part of my soul. if you asked me to give up the game and move with you to new york, if you asked me to request a trade to the fucking rangers, i’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“i would never ask you to do that,” you whispered.

“i know, but i would. because i love you, and if you’d let me, i’d like to be with you again. i’d like to marry you like i should’ve years ago. i’d like to have babies with you, however many you want. i wanna grow old and live in a house big enough to fit all of our grandkids for holidays. i want all of that with you,” he said. “what do you want?”

there were so many things you could say, so many things you wanted to say. but with watery eyes, and a heart that raced faster than a treadmill at full speed, you couldn’t vocalize any of it.

your mind raced with thoughts.

i wanna know the nicknames you gave your teammates. i want to use that specific combination of paints to make your eye color. i want to stick my cold feet between your legs and laugh when you pull away. i want my birthday to be your passcode again.

“i want you” you said, unable to say anything more. it was a miracle you even got those words out, your voice cracked on every syllable.

“yeah?” he asked, eyes shining with hope.

you nodded. matt immediately leaned over the table and kissed you, you met him halfway. and it felt like every question you ever had was answered. it felt like the best possible ending of your favorite tv series.

he felt like home, more than st. louis ever could. more than calgary.

when you both pulled back, neither of you could keep the smiles off your faces. “what do you say to doing long distance again? just while i’m in school,” you proposed.

matt’s smile could’ve lit the entire city.

“baby, for you? i’d do anything.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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alloftheimaginesblog · 9 months

Text

holding on {alex karev}

plot: you and alex aren't friends but he's the person that sits by your hospital bed day and night until you wake up.

character: alex karev (early seasons) x reader

The steady beeping of the various machines was something that Alex had grown tired of two days ago, the machine's volumes had been turned to 0 but his anxious eyes kept flickering to them every few seconds just to be sure. The background noise of the hospital was something he was used to and it was an oddly comforting sound. Now, the silence of being in the room with you had been nice at first but now that he was here, with you, waiting... just waiting... the silence was unnerving him.

He tapped his foot, checking the clock on the wall. Bailey should've been here by now, she promised him that she'd check on you every two hours. She was late. Anger surged through his body causing his heart to pound and his fists to clench.

"You're such an idiot," he could hear you scolding him in his mind, "if you just stopped dealing with your problems with sheer anger then maybe, maybe people would actually start to like you."

He scoffed.

You and him had hardly been friends. You and the rest of Bailey's interns were the best of friends, all living together in Mer's mom's house so why wasn't George or Izzie or Cristina or Mer here? Why was it Alex? That's all the four of them had been whispering about. Cristina asked Alex, Izzie asked Alex... hell, Bailey even asked Alex. Alex had ignored each of their questions and instead gave some snarky asshole comment with an eye roll. Alex didn't even know why he was here - why he'd purposefully demanded the week off to be by your bedside day and night sleeping on a camping bed with the scratchiest sheets in the world. He didn't know and yet, here he was.

You were annoying. You annoyed him. But since the news of the accident and since you'd been in a coma, Alex couldn't stop thinking about the way you laughed as you teased him. He couldn't get one specific moment out of his head.

You and Alex had been working on a case together - much to your dismay - and Alex had opened up slightly, letting you see that he was much more than what you previously thought.

"So... you're not just an asshole with the emotional range of a teaspoon, who knew?" You helped yourself to the bar stool next to Karev. Joe glanced at you, asking if you wanted your usual to which you nodded.

Alex rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

There was silence for a few seconds before you tried again, "I know you have this hard 'I don't care' exterior," you started, "and I know it's probably because of some past trauma in your life, Karev - believe me we've all got some shit - but..."

"Are you gonna keep giving me a stupid high school girl pep talk or are you gonna shut up and drink?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, "Joe, another round please."

As Joe poured the two of you more drinks, Alex sighed and looked at you, "Thanks," he murmured quietly, "I'm not- I don't..." he cleared his throat, "I don't mean to be an asshole all the time... I don't really know... Social shit isn't really my thing."

"Now who's acting like an emotional high school girl?" You teased. Alex laughed, a genuine smile stretched onto his face. Yeah... maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

So after the accident, Alex stayed.

It was then Bailey strode in, chart in hand, "Karev," she said glancing up for a second, "you look like hell. Don't you think you should go home get a proper sleep? Take a damn shower?" She could see the worry in him, she could see how stressed out he was; the dark circles under his eyes, his nails chewed down. Alex might not even know it yet but he cared about you.

"I'm staying," he said with a nod standing to look over her shoulder at your chart, "Any updates?"

"You tell me, you're the one who's been here since she got admitted." Bailey moved to you, turning the volume up on the machines, checking your levels.

"Oxygen levels were a little low at 3am, managed to level them out... No issues since." He nodded, arms crossed with a hand rubbing at his jawline, "Why hasn't she woken up yet, Bailey? She should be-"

"Karev," Bailey said, voice strong, "Go get yourself a cup of coffee, now."

"I don't-"

"Now, Karev. Let me do my damn job and stop hanging over me. Coffee."

With a few harsh words which made Bailey surprisingly laugh, Alex stormed out of your hospital room, storming past O'Malley and Stevens who had come to check in with Bailey on how you were doing.

Bailey leaned down closed to you, "If you die, god help us all... that boy..." she looked to the door where Alex had left from, "he'll be lost forever. So don't you dare, you hear me?"

The coffee machine was a minute's walk away from your room so Alex would know if anything were to happen to you, he would know but he kept checking over his shoulder anyway just in case. He was exhausted, he couldn't remember the last time he'd drank or even the last time he'd eaten. You had consumed him for the last two days; making sure that you were okay was his first priority.

He stopped at the coffee machine punching the button for a crappy black coffee that he wasn't going to drink anyway, "Come on," he grumbled as the cup dropped and the coffee began to pour in slowly, "Damn piece of crap machine, hurry the hell up!" He yelled suddenly, slamming his fist into the plastic front. Around him, people stared but he didn't care. When the coffee finally stopped, he pulled the cup out when he heard it.

"Code blue! I need a crash cart! Room 2203!" It was Bailey. It was you.

Boiling hot coffee splashed over the floor, the cup dropped and on the ground as Alex Karev took off running.

His heart pounded, usually the thrill was the thing he loved the most but this wasn't a thrill, no, this was dread. When he burst into your room, the first thing he heard was, "Clear!" and heard the noise of the defibrillator.

"What's going on?!" He yelled over the chaos.

"Get him outta here!" Bailey yelled, "Charge to 200! Get him outta here, O'Malley!"

George tried but a determined Alex was a strong Alex. He resisted George's grip, shoving him back every chance he tried to take him out. It got to the point that George gave up, "Dr Bailey!" He exclaimed, hopelessly as Alex barged to your bedside. Bailey couldn't do anything, she was busy trying to save your life, she couldn't deal with Karev as well so she let him be.

"Don't you dare die on me," Alex hissed, eyes flooding with tears, "don't you dare. Can't do that to me, (y/n). Can't have me sitting here waiting for two days to just die on me-" he looked to Bailey, "Save her... please."

Bailey's eyes met Alex's and she found a lump in her throat, "You hear him?" She asked you as the paddles charged, "don't you dare die on us, (y/n)." With one final shock, the monitor started to beep again, "Heart rate is coming back up," she said with a relieved sigh, "Thank the Lord. Levels are stabilising."

Alex collapsed into the chair at your bedside, hand clamped around yours, as his eyes closed, letting the relief wash over him. You were alive; you were stable.

"What- what caused it?"

Bailey shook her head, "Don't know, levels were fine but as soon as you left the room they started to drop so do me a favour, Karev," she looked pointedly at him, "don't leave this room again." Normally he would've bit back, said a comment about her forcing him out but instead, he just nodded falling back into his chair, hand still in yours, "I'll check every hour, okay? You page me immediately, got it?" Again, he nodded and then the room cleared out.

Alex didn't turn the monitors down, he needed to hear the steady beep to know that you were okay, you were alive and you were breathing. For the last three hours that he'd sat here, he had prayed to every god he could remember the name of - he didn't know if it counted but even started praying to some Greek Gods as well. Why have God in the title if it doesn't count? His hand was still firmly in yours.

Bailey had checked five times in the three hours, checking on you but also on him. She brought him a soda, a sandwich and a muffin and didn't leave until he'd drained half the can and eaten one of the sandwiches. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until he'd started eating, he devoured the rest of meal once she'd left. You were still stable but you weren't awake yet. Bailey was optimistic but Alex wasn't. He was dreading the worst, expecting your levels to become unstable again but as he was dosing off, he felt your hand twitch in his.

He shot up, "(y/n)?" He asked staring at your hand and then at you and much to his relief, your eyes began to flutter open. He let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. Utter relief crashed over him, "You're awake," he grinned, "you're actually awake."

"A-Alex?" You croaked.

"Here," he said gently as he grabbed a plastic cup and straw and filled it with water from the jug on your bedside unit, "Drink up. How you feeling?"

"Sore."

"Multiple ruptured organs and a few broken bones'll do that to you," Alex teased with a smile. You noticed his hand was still in yours, warm and strong. He saw your eyes narrow at your joined hands and he was quick to pull his back despite everything inside him not wanting to, "I- I'm gonna page Bailey, you drink up." He helped you take the water and left. He was just outside, close enough to make sure that you were still safe - still alive.

It was as he left you looked around the room and you noticed the camping cot which was set up on the floor next to your bed. You frowned. Someone had been staying here. Was it... no, it couldn't have been Alex; Alex hated you.

Your thoughts were cut off by Bailey bursting into your room, "Oh thank the Lord," she grinned, "it's good to see you awake. You scared us." As Bailey checked you over, Alex returned to the seat next to you. Bailey saw your confused expression seeing him sat there, normal clothes not working, "Karev," she said, "go and get (y/n) a sandwich, will you? She's hungry." Alex went to argue, to tell Bailey she told him not to leave your room but Bailey's pointed look made him stop and nod. He left a second later giving you one last worried look, "She's fine now go."

You looked up at Bailey who sighed and looked down at you, "You had that boy scared to death, you know."

"Who? Alex?!"

Bailey nodded, "You're not the only one who's surprised. As soon as you were admitted he was here. It was his day off and he was here. Soon as you got outta surgery he was set up in your room. He hasn't left since Tuesday."

You looked down to the cot next to you, "He's been here the whole time?"

Bailey nodded, "I don't know what's going on between the two of you - if anything - but I'd say that there's something." Your frown deepened and Bailey smiled, "Just... be patient with him."

When Alex came back, Bailey gave you a secret nod with a knowing smile before she left promising to come check on you every hour and to not dare think about going back into a coma otherwise she would kill you. "I'm a doctor, I know how to save people but I know how to kill them too."

"Hey," Alex said as he placed a sandwich and soda on the unit beside your bed, "You okay?"

You nodded, finding yourself rather overwhelmed and touched by his actions. He - Alex Karev - had stayed by your side since the accident. What did that mean? What did Dr Bailey mean? You nodded quickly, "Yeah," you said softly, "just tired."

Alex puffed out a long breath as he sat in the seat next to your bed, "Yeah, you must be. Gave me- gave us all a fright."

Silence fell and the two of you fell into the comfort of the sounds of the hospital. You sipped at the soda Alex had brought before curiosity got the better of you, "Alex... why did you stay with me?"

You could've sworn his cheeks flushed a darker shade of pink but he rubbed his hands over his tired looking face so you couldn't have been sure, "Hell if I know," he muttered, "it's not like we're friends but... I didn't want you to be alone. You're the only one that's almost like a friend and... I dunno." He shrugged, "I don't really understand it myself." Maybe there was something deeper lurking under the surface but he didn't know. That was something you'd have to navigate together, "I know you'd have probably preferred Cristina or Mer-"

You took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Thank you, Alex," you whispered, "for everything. Thank you." Now, this time you could see the tips of his ears go pink. You smiled, "Now when are you going to shower cause boy you are looking rough-"

"Shut up!" Alex rolled his eyes but he laughed with you and for once, it felt nice to joke around with him. It felt normal. You didn't know what was going to happen but you somehow knew that he would be beside you, figuring out this crazy journey together and somehow, that made it a little less scary.

#one shot #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy imagine #grey's anatomy one shot #os #reader insert #alex karev x reader #alex karev #alex karev imagine #imagine #prompt #alex karev x you #greys anatomy

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cassiesc0rner · 3 months

Text

Impurities II

Synopsis: You’re the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: slightly suggestive, fluff, slight angst

Pairing: Nate x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, lying, dark themes, let me know if I missed something

Song rec: saint - dpr ian | in my feelings- ldr

WC: +7k

Other parts: previous part, next part,

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part as much as the last one :3 I’d love to make some other parts including smut because I kinda like where this story is going so tell me if you guys would be down to read that!! ᥫ᭡

The next days weren’t that eventful. You went to school with Nate, you went to the mall with Nate, and you sometimes even waited for Nate until he was done with his football training.

The next week started out pretty smooth too. You got ready for school on Monday, before Nate picked you up, and you two drove to school and you went to your classes. Everything was going well.

Everything, except for lunch break.

The bell rang and you quickly stuffed your things into your bag, knowing that Nate was probably on his way to the cafeteria already.

You exited the room and walked towards the cafeteria, when someone suddenly stepped in front of you "We need to talk."

You looked up from the floor and found none other than Maddy. She had her arms crossed and looked at you with her usual confident stare.

You remembered what Nate told you about her, that you should stay away from her and that she's a liar, a cheater and simply a horrible person.

But you still couldn't be mean to her or ignore her. "About what?" You asked nervously. She rolled her eyes subtly "What do you think?" She answered.

Fair point.

"Listen, Nate and I aren't together if that's what you want to talk about. And even if we were, it’s not like we owe you any explanation." You didn't know where that surge of confidence came from. Maybe because she started getting on your nerves?

As if her constant stares weren't enough, she had to approach you now too? And she had the nerve to be annoyed when you simply asked what she wanted to talk about.

"Okay, I don't know what the fuck he told you, but it's probably not true." Maddy retorted "I just wanted to warn you, because you seem like a nice person."

You couldn't lie, you were curious about her point of view. You didn't want to betray your only friend, but it wouldn't hurt to listen to her explanation. It’s not like you'd believe her anyway.

"Warn me from what? I'm totally fine and Nate has been nothing but nice to me so far." Maddy scoffed, God, you’re so oblivious "So far, yeah that probably describes it perfectly. Did you ever do anything against his will?"

You thought for a moment Did I? "I take that as a no." Maddy answered for you "Nate only likes you because you do what he says. And," She looked you up and down "because you also wear what he wants you to wear. Seems like he didn't change at all."

You scoffed in disbelief "Nate has done so much for me, and he never forced me to wear this. He also never hurt me-." "Yet." She interrupted "It's only a matter of time until he does."

You stayed silent, not sure what to say to that "Nate loves control and he loves it even more when he has control over someone. He's fucking sick in the head, completely deranged!"

You didn't want to believe Maddy. There's no way Nate actually was like that, you knew him you spent so much time with him. Sure, he did have a short temper sometimes, but he never intentionally treated you badly.

And you knew that she treated him badly and not the other way around. How could she lie to you like that? Did she want you to drop him?

You weren't even his girlfriend and yet she went to such lengths to get back at him.

She's even worse than I thought.

"I know you probably don't want to believe me right now, because he seems like your only true friend and he did all these things for you. But all those things he does for you, are just another way for him to feel good about himself in some sick and twisted way."

What the fuck is wrong with her?

"Why would he buy all these things for you? Why would he make you change your style if he only wants to be your friend?"

She had a point, it might seem strange from the outside, but you knew that Nate only did that for you. He only gave you advice and compliments, and honestly? You felt way better about yourself compared to before.

"I appreciate your concern but it's really not like that, okay? I've known Nate for some time now, and if he would be as ‘deranged’ as you claim he is, I would've noticed by now, don't you think?" You responded as friendly as you could.

Maddy scoffed in return "Don't you think he's able to hide that? Of course he’s not violent towards you, you're like his new obsession. What would he do without you?" Maddy asked sarcastically.

"Maddy!" Nate's angry voice echoed through the hallway, making both of you flinch in surprise.

Maddy was scared, she knew what he was capable of, but she tried to keep her cool as he approached you two. "I told you to stay away from her, didn't I?" he said, his tone harsher than usual as he stared you down.

The hallway was almost empty, since most of the students were in the cafeteria already, but the ones that weren't, eyed the three of you. And it made you even more nervous.

You swallowed before nodding "I-I'm sorry-" "I talked to her first," Maddy interrupted. "someone had to warn her. Before you destroy her life as well."

That fucking bitch

She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, and it was pissing him off more and more. But Nate couldn't let his façade falter, especially not in front of you.

"You're insane... You always act like the victim, Maddy. You're so fucking desperate for attention that you involve innocent people."

You were so confused, first Maddy confronts you out of nowhere and then he appeared all of a sudden. And the other students were still staring as well.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? You-" "Just like back then, when you fucked that guy in front of everyone. Did you enjoy the attention? Did you enjoy humiliating me like that?" Maddy's eyes widened as she scoffed, she couldn’t believe Nate was putting on this show in front of everyone "Don't even try to compare that to the stuff that you did, Nate."

Nate chuckled drily in response. "I love how you don't even deny it. Or how you lied about that guy taking advantage of you while you were drunk." He took a step closer to her "Don't ever talk to her again, do you hear me? If I see you fucking talking to her one more time, it's over for you."

Nate threatened as Maddy's eyes widened ever so slightly. Nate grabbed your hand and almost dragged you after him as he walked towards the cafeteria.

You stumbled along as he took big steps, you didn't dare to speak, you weren’t even sure what to say. Once you reached the table, Nate sat down pulling you along with him.

You looked straight ahead, too afraid to look into his eyes. Nate sighed "Y/n... Look at me." You slowly moved your gaze towards him. He looked worried, as if he had lost you, the anger from earlier seemingly gone.

But only on the outside.

On the inside he was fuming, wishing he had choked Maddy harder back at the carnival.

"I'm sorry for being angry back there... I just know how much shit Maddy talks, and I don't want you to worry about anything just because she needed attention again."

You nodded slowly "I'm sorry, yeah?" he repeated as he softly stroked your cheek with his large hand. You melted into his touch as you smiled and nodded once again. "I shouldn't have talked to her in the first place."

Nate smiled softly. He adored you so much, Maddy would always fight with him when he got angry, but you? You didn't, you simply accepted his apology and told him it's fine, accepting that he's the way he is.

"Yeah but it's not your fault. You're just nice to the wrong people sometimes." He reassured you once again.

Nate was still incredibly pissed at Maddy but seeing you smile and lean into his touch made him feel so much better. It was insane how good he felt when he was with you, how easily you trusted him.

Nate needed to keep you close to him, he couldn't afford to lose you and he 100% meant what he said to Maddy.

He'd destroy her if she ever tries something stupid again.

"So, what's the special occasion?" You chuckled as you walked into the fancy restaurant Nate had picked out for the evening.

He told you to wear something pretty because you'd go out tonight. Needless to say, your mom was not impressed.

All she heard was 'Nate' and 'going out once it's dark outside' and she was immediately alarmed. Telling you to send her a text at least every hour.

She wasn't that displeased with your outfit this time though. You wore a midi dress with floral patterns and a v-neckline, combined with black flats and a necklace with a heart shaped pendant.

Nate definitely had plans for tonight.

It's been a month since you first met, and he decided that it would be the perfect day to finally ask you to be his.

This had to be the first time Nate was genuinely nervous to ask a girl out.

He was sure that you liked him too, but you never made any advances towards him. The only thing he did notice however, was your sour expression whenever some of the cheerleaders, or any girl for that matter, would talk to him.

He could tell that you got jealous, maybe even compared yourself to them, completely unaware of the fact that Nate only had eyes for you.

"Well, I'll tell you after we ate. Let's get inside first." He smiled as he took in your outfit once more while you walked inside the fancy restaurant. You didn't dare to move from Nate's side, too nervous once you saw how huge the restaurant was on the inside.

Nate greeted the receptionist and talked to him for a moment before he lead you to a beautifully decorated table for two.

Before you could even grab your chair, Nate was quick to pull it out for you to sit on. God, he's so attentive..

You smiled as you sat down "Thank you, sir." you said jokingly. Nate smiled as he responded "You're very welcome."

Once he sat down he passed you one of the two menu cards, before taking the other one himself. "By the way, I'm paying tonight so don't worry and order whatever you want alright?" he smiled warmly as he placed his hand on top of yours.

You looked up from the menu and locked eyes with Nate, ready to protest "Nate-" he shook his head immediately "Listen, it was my idea to take you here, and like I said, today is a special day and I wanna pay for it. So please let me, yeah?"

You sighed, knowing it's useless to protest anyways "Alright.." Nate chuckled, finding your pouty expression absolutely cute. You shyly looked down onto the table before you continued to speak "Can you... help me pick something out?"

He loved it so much when you gave him control, loved you so much.

"Of course, ba-" he cleared his throat, before taking the menu and looking for something nice, hoping you didn't notice that he almost called you 'baby'.

"Alright.. how about this?" He asked as he pointed onto something on the menu. You nodded, sure that you couldn't go wrong with pasta "I trust you. I bet you go here often."

Nate pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm not that often, I think I went here like twice. I really only go here on special occasions but so far I wasn't disappointed."

Another lie.

He visited the restaurant often, his parents sometimes ordered food there as well. He had plenty of chances to test out how good their quality was. And since today would be important, he had to make sure everything was perfect.

Once the two of you finished your food, Nate was quick to call a waitress over. The waitress came over to your table, a smile on her face as she asked "Would you like to pay with cash or card?" Nate opened his wallet, before he pulled out his card "Card, please."

The waitress got her device out of her pocket and set it up before Nate quickly swiped his card over the display. It was such a simple task and yet he made it look so attractive.

Before the waitress could leave, Nate quickly pulled a fifty dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to her. Your eyes widened as you realized that that was his tip "T-thank you, sir.." The waitress stuttered.

Nate usually doesn't tip that generously, he couldn't care less to be honest, but he wanted to impress you as much as he possibly could.

The two of you got up, and walked towards the exit of the restaurant, leaving the fancy place. "So, would you mind letting me in on your plan?" You asked as you walked towards his car.

Nate grinned sheepishly "Impatient, aren't we?" You jokingly rolled your eyes in response "Keep in mind that I have to be home in a bit." You reminded him as you walked ahead of him.

Nate suddenly grabbed your hand and spun you around, resulting in you stumbling into his chest. You looked up at him before taking a step back, your hand still in his "Don't worry your pretty little head, I already took care of that." Nate proudly announced.

You were beyond confused at this point. "Huh? What do you mean?" Nate chuckled at your confused expression. "I talked to your dad the other day when I was at yours. Told him that you'd 'be at a party' at my place today. He agreed and told me you could sleep at mine and that he'd talk to your mom about it."

You blinked up at Nate, surprised that he lied to your dad just so you could sleep at his. It had to be serious if he'd go that far "Wow... I... really?"

To be honest, it didn't go exactly like that, because he barely even listened to Nate, which obviously made him furious. He genuinely just wanted to club him with the nearest object.

He didn't understand how anyone could be so uninterested in his own family, especially you. Sure, he was happy that your dad agreed to let you sleep at his place, but he didn't even care about the reason, he just wanted to go back to doing whatever the fuck was more important, on his phone.

Your dad just came from work at that time, but Nate's pretty sure that he's always like this, simply from the stories he's heard from you.

"W-wait.. I didn't even pack things for that.. And you’re sure my dad just agreed like that?" Nate nodded "Yeah he did, and it's no problem I'll find something for you to sleep in, don't worry." Nate reasoned.

He couldn't wait for you to be in his clothes, in his bed, snuggled against him under his blanket. Fuck, he couldn't wait until he could finally wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him that you can't leave him.

Nate thought about sleeping next to you so often. He obviously also thought about sleeping with you and it felt like a dream each time.

He’d treat you like the goddess that you are.

Nate already made it his goal to make you cum as many times as possible before you pass out, and he'd do anything just to hear you moan his name. Just the thought alone had him throbbing in his pants.

"Nate?"

Shit, he had to control himself and prevent his problem from growing. "Yeah? Sorry, I got lost in thoughts." You chuckled at his flustered response and expression. You didn't know how people could be scared of him, not when he was this cute.

"You're so cute sometimes." Nate didn't expect you to say that. He's been called many things so far but that was new. And he definitely would’ve prefered any other compliment.

In his opinion, 'cute' was something you'd say to your girlfriend, or maybe a baby or your pet but not to a guy like him.

He swallowed his pride and put on a smile "You're definitely cuter." He said as he leaned down, his face almost directly in front of yours.

You gulped before laughing nervously, your eyes wandering around in an attempt to avoid his intense gaze. Nate smirked before walking past you "C'mon let's go." He said as he opened the car door for you.

The ride was pretty quiet, mostly because you still tried to figure out what Nate could've possibly planned.

You were sure that it wasn't his birthday today, since you've talked about birthdays before.

Nate parked his car and the two of you walked towards what appeared to be a park, with a white gazebo in the middle. Now you were genuinely starting to worry.

It was starting to get dark already, the sun almost gone as the two of you were in a seemingly empty park, heading towards a gazebo.

Nate could sense your hesitation in the way you walked a bit slower and looked around, observing your environment. "We're almost done I promise." Was all he said as he entered the fancy gazebo, sitting down on the bench inside.

You followed him inside, looking at him like a lost puppy. Nate smiled warmly as he patted the free spot next to him on the bench. You sighed nervously before finally sitting down, your gaze locked onto Nate.

He was really happy that you could finally look at him without hesitation, unlike the first time he met you. You got so much more comfortable around him in general.

He cleared his throat before he started talking "Alright, so.. I bet you're wondering what's going on." You nodded eagerly "Let me ask you something," He said as he fully turned towards you "Do you know what happened one month ago, exactly on this day?"

You looked into his eyes trying to search for hints, but found none. You tried to think back, repeating the date over and over again in your head but to no avail. You shook your head in response, a small pout on your lips.

Nate chuckled "One month ago was the first time we met each other, do you remember?" He asked carefully, and your eyes lit up afterwards, remembering how kind he was from the beginning. "Of course I remember, you really saved me, I thought I was just destined to stay alone forever until I met you." You smiled as you thought of all the great memories you and Nate had so far.

Nate felt relieved that you felt that way, and not like he was the reason barely anyone dared to talk to you. Which he obviously was, with the way he glared at anyone who even dared to look at you in the hallways.

"I'm glad you think so, y/n. And I've been think about this, and about you for a long time." You tilted your head to the side as you waited for him to continue "I really really like you, y/n. Not in a way.. a friend should like another friend."

Your smile dropped as you finally understood what was going on. The fancy dinner, the fancy gazebo, him mentioning the first time you met. No, there's no way, he wouldn't- "I love you, y/n. I know this might be sudden right now, but I just had to tell you today. The date was perfect and I... I'm tired of hiding this from you."

Nate despised how vulnerable he was in front of you right now, but he also knew that he might be more successful this way, that him showing some emotions would result in you saying yes.

"I know that you haven't been in a relationship yet and I promise I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. We can take things slow."

You suddenly felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. Nate was asking you to be his girlfriend..

He planned all of this to ask you to be his girlfriend.

You did not expect that. You weren't sure what you were expecting but this wasn't on your list. "Nate I... I don't know what to say..." Was all you managed to whisper as you averted your gaze.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel something for him, and the fact that he put so much effort into asking you out also touched you, but you were so scared of losing him, you needed him whether you wanted to admit it or not. You couldn't even imagine living without him from now on so why did you hesitate?

Nate stayed quiet as well, before reaching for your hand, in an attempt to get you to look at him "Y/n, I get it, you probably didn't expect me to say all that, but I genuinely mean it." You slowly raised your head and looked into his eyes once again.

The look he gave you was filled with sincerity and love and you wanted to hug him and tell him that everything is gonna be fine, that you're his "You know that I might not be here for long... I couldn't live with the fact that I have to leave you behind. What if you'll feel like you're wasting your time with me?"

Nate quickly shook his head "I'll never think like that, and I already told you that I'll find a solution if that should happen." Nates grip on your hand tightened before he added "Just tell me what you want right now. Without thinking of things that might or might not happen."

You sighed "I want to be with you, I just... really didn't think you'd actually want someone like me to be your girlfriend, so I never considered it.." Nate frowned.

'Someone like you’? What did you mean by that? Nate was sure that there was no one better than you, that you were the perfect choice for him.

"There's nothing wrong with you, and I'll tell you that over and over again if I have to. You're everything I want, I don't need someone else I only need you, I already told you that before." He replied, searching for your eyes once again.

You suddenly remembered that day you went over to his place and his brother showed up. When you sat on the sofa with him and he told you that you were everything he needed. So he really meant it like that.

You looked at him, a sad smile on your face "I need you too, no one has ever been able to make me feel so loved and important... Not even my parents... I can’t imagine going back to that… I mean, I was miserable before I met you." Nate tried to hide his smirk when he heard that.

He absolutely loved how dependent you were on him, he knew you'd need him eventually.

He softly placed his hand on your cheek, hoping you'd melt into his touch like you did back when he first did it in the cafeteria.

And you didn't disappoint him.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his touch in the chilly breeze. "Please.. Give me a chance to prove you I'll treat you good." Nate softly pleaded.

You opened your eyes, looking at him "I'd never doubt that, Nate.. I'm just really worried I-" Nate sighed before retrieving his hand, and you hated it, hated how cold you felt again.

"It's about what Maddy told you, isn't it?" Nate asked, his tone rougher than before. You quickly shook your head "No! Oh my god of course not. I know that she's lying." You scooted closer to Nate, your hands finding his this time.

"I trust you.. Only you."

Nate looked at you, a small frown still evident on his features. He kept quiet, hoping that it'll give you the final push to say yes.

You sighed as you thought for a moment. You liked him too, so why not give him a chance? You'll probably never be this lucky again. This is what you wanted, what you dreamed of.

You deserved some happiness for once. And you were sure he'd make you happy, just like he already did. And you'd do your best to make him happy as well.

"Nate, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Nate almost jumped off the bench. You finally said yes, you were finally officially his. His eyes immediately lit up and he pulled you into probably the tightest hug you've ever had.

Nate sighed in relief, everything worked just like he wanted it to. No one would take you away from him now.

That was probably his biggest fear, that some guy would make a move on you and steal you from him. And it would've been so unfair too, because he was the one who turned you into his obedient pretty girl.

In his eyes, no one deserved you more than he did.

"I promise you won't regret it, yeah?" He mumbled into your neck before raising his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You giggled as you tried to process the fact that Nate Jacobs was now your boyfriend. Once Nate let go of you, you noticed how cold it had gotten, and you shivered slightly.

Nate frowned "Are you cold? We can go home if you want to." He offered. "That might be a good idea. Only if you want to though."

Nate appreciated that you still let him decide, even though you were cold already.

He chuckled before standing up "C'mere." He said as he extended his arm. You stood up and walked towards him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, before the two of you walked to his car.

Nate knew that he had to introduce you to his parents and he absolutely hated it. He knew that if he simply told you to go upstairs, you might think he doesn't want you to meet them.

You were quick to misinterpret things negatively sometimes and he didn't want you to worry about his parents not liking you or something.

You once asked him, when you came over for the fifth time why you haven’t seen his parents yet. And he told you he only invites you over when he's alone, because they’re weird. He quickly made sure to tell you that he just simply 'dislikes' his whole family to put it nicely.

Once he parked the car, he turned towards you and placed his hand on your thigh to grab your attention. You looked up at him with your beautiful eyes and he could've kissed you right then and there but he wasn't sure if that would've been too soon for you.

"Listen, my parents are probably home right now... Just a heads up, they might want to meet you. Are you okay with that?" He asked softly.

You felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest.

You've never seen them before, except on the family picture on the wall at the staircase. You had no idea what you had to expect. "I'm kinda scared to be honest.." You replied nervously. "What if they don't like me?"

Nate scoffed before shaking his head "Don't worry, they only hated Maddy, because she was really rude and she called my mother a cunt." Your eyes widened in shock "She did what?" You asked in disbelief.

Nate nodded as he looked outside the window "I told you, she was intense..." You scoffed in response "Yeah definitely, did she even contribute anything good to the relationship?" You asked genuinely curious.

Nate thought for a moment, did she?

"Well not really, but I don't care anymore. I have you now. You could never disappoint me the way she did, so don’t worry." He responded with a smile before undoing his and your seatbelt.

Once the two of you got out of the car and Nate locked the doors, he took your hand in his and walked towards the entrance.

He was kind of nervous as well since his dad could be unpredictable. But Nate already told his mom that he might bring you home today and she was thrilled to meet you.

He sighed before unlocking the door and walking inside with you. He just hoped Aaron wasn't at home or at least not downstairs this time.

You started taking your shoes off as quietly as possible, hoping that they wouldn't hear or notice you. Nate also took his shoes off before you walked the living room together.

His mom sat on the sofa with a glass of wine. As soon as she noticed the two of you, she placed her glass down on the coffee table and walked over to the two of you with a friendly grin.

"Hello sweetie, you must be y/n." She exclaimed before hugging you subtly. She then took a small step back and looked at you.

"Yes.. It's so nice to meet you.." You said as you tried to smile at her and maintain eye contact. You knew it would've been rude to not look at her, but you were still pretty nervous.

Then she looked you up and down, which made you even more insecure "Wow... gorgeous and polite, seems like Nate finally found the right one." Nate rolled his eyes before taking your hand back in his "Alright mom, we'll be upstairs then." He announced.

"Oh already? But-" "Yeah it's been a pretty rough week, we'll talk tomorrow." He interrupted before almost dragging you along with him towards the stairs "Again, it was nice meeting you Mrs. Jacobs."

You quickly added before following him "Likewise, Honey!" You truly loved how sweet she was. Your mom barely called you Honey, or Sweetie. She only used your name when she called for you.

Just as Nate thought he finally had you to himself, he heard the front door unlock.

He debated on whether he should turn around or not, before deciding against it and simply walking upstairs in front of you. Until he heard the person speak

"Aren't you gonna introduce me to your new girlfriend Nate?" It was Cal.

Nate was surprised when he entered the living room earlier and saw that his Mom seemed to be alone. But he was glad and hoped it'd stay that way.

But sadly it didn’t.

Nate sighed as he looked at you not sure whether to tell you to go ahead to his room or actually allow his asshole dad to introduce himself.

He noticed how Cal moved towards the stairs before he looked at you "I'm Cal, pleasure to meet you." He said before extending his hand.

You shook it, trying to mimic his firm grip but failing miserably. "I'm Y/n.." You almost whispered as you avoided his piercing gaze. You then retreated your hand before adding "a-also pleased to meet you."

You couldn't tell why but you felt the atmosphere shift in a way. It was.. eerily quiet. And you knew that there was something going on between Nate and his Dad. Simply by the way they stared at each other, and the way Nate talked about him sometimes.

"Alright, we're gonna go upstairs then." Nate said drily before gesturing for you to walk ahead. You quickly walked up the stairs, happy that you'd be alone with him soon again.

You didn't mind talking to his mom, but his dad scared the shit out of you. There was just something so dark about him. You wouldn't want to be alone with him.

Once Nate finally closed the door behind you two, you sighed out of relief. "Sorry about him, he really knows how to make people uncomfortable.." Nate grumbled when he saw the relief on your face.

"It wasn't that bad." You lied as you chuckled nervously. "You don't have to lie to me. I saw how nervous you got when you shook his hand." Nate responded before plopping down on his bed and sighing.

Why couldn’t he just move out and live with you? All alone somewhere secluded where he has you to himself, far away from his and your family.

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to meet my parents." He reasoned. You walked towards him, and lied down beside him before placing your head on his firm chest "Don't worry it.. really wasn't that bad. I think your mom is really nice."

Yeah totally

Nate closed his eyes as he enjoyed the weight of your head on his chest. He could’ve stayed like this forever.

Until your phone vibrated in your bag.

You groaned before getting up and rummaging through your bag until you found it.

It was your mom, great… You totally forgot to text her during the entire time.

6 new messages

mom: Hey, when are you gonna come home? 5:45 pm

mom: Just talked to your dad.. Are you really going to sleep at his place?? 5:58 pm

mom: Are you okay? 6:20 pm

mom: If you want me to pick you up you can call me 6:49 pm

mom: hellooo? 7:02 pm

mom: please text me back when you see this I’m worried 7:15 pm

“Holy shit…” You scoffed. “What? Is it your mom?” You nodded before walking back to bed and showing him your chat.

Nates eyes widened in both amazement and terror. “Jesus, she’s so controlling.” You nodded while you quickly texted her back.

You had to give her Nate’s address some time ago, when you went over to his place more frequently. You were sure she’d actually get in her car and come over if you wouldn’t reply to her.

you: I’m fine everything is okay! stop worrying so much 7:17 pm

Nate got up from his bed and headed towards his closet, grabbing a basic tee and some shorts before he handed them over to you “Here you can wear this, I hope it’s fine.”

You nodded and smiled at him “Of course, thank you.” He smiled back at you for a moment “I’ll go to the bathroom, yeah?” He said before heading towards his bathroom.

You decided to get dressed while he’s gone, slipping out of your dress, folding it as best as you could and placing it neatly next to his bed. Then you put on his shirt, which was in fact long enough to cover your thighs, and his shorts.

You sat back on Nate’s bed until he came back from his bathroom. Despite being in his room so many times before, you never slept at his place. Because you’re mother was against it of course.

But you had to admit it was smart of Nate to lie to your dad about having a party, and saying that many people were gonna sleep at his, and you wouldn’t be alone with him.

You wondered if Nate had to lie to his parents like that too.

His mom was way more understanding than yours was, so probably not. And she seemed so kind too, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Maddy insulted her like that.

You wished you would’ve moved here earlier, simply because you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a lot going on that you didn’t know of.

Like the Cassie situation for example.

You knew almost nothing about her, and it kinda scared you, because Nate mentioned that she was insane and extremely obsessed with him.

You didn’t even know what she looked like, so how were you supposed to stay out of her way?

You were certain that it would just be a question of time until she’d approach you as well. And you were also pretty sure that she won’t be as nice or as rational as Maddy was.

Sure, Maddy said all these bad things out of spite and because she hated her ex boyfriend. But Cassie? What if she’s still in love with him and finds out that you two are dating?

Nate entered the room again, taking in the sight of you in his clothes as you sat leaned against his bed frame staring ahead with wide eyes.

You looked so adorable and so… distracted for some reason. Nate walked up to you, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What’s on your mind?” He asked as he stood in front of you.

The way you craned your head up to look at him, made him feel things he shouldn’t feel. Especially since your head was at eye level with his crotch.

He tried to focus on whatever you were going to tell him nonetheless “I’m just… worried. You told me about Cassie being obsessed with you and… what if she finds out I’m your girlfriend?”

Nate sighed. Because you had a point, but he really didn’t want to think of her or talk about her anymore. He was already glad that she barely went to school after their break up, and that he could keep you far away from her.

“You don’t have to worry about her, I told you I’ll protect you. Cassie is crazy but she’s harmless, except for yelling she can’t do much.” He tried to reassure you.

You looked down as you fiddled with the hem of Nate’s shirt.

You already were an anxious person, so the fact that your boyfriend only dated crazy people in the past, wasn’t exactly helpful.

“I feel safe with you… but we’re not always together at school, and I… don’t have any friends.” That’s when you realized just how alone you actually were without Nate.

You had no friends at all, now that Nate wasn’t your friend anymore but your boyfriend. It was sad, really. But what you didn’t seem to realize was that it wasn’t your fault at all.

It was Nate’s.

He was convinced you didn’t need anyone but him, even if that meant you’d have no friends. What would you need them for anyway when you had him?

Nate frowned “But you’re not alone either, you have me. Or… am I not enough?” He frowned. You immediately shook your head “No, of course you’re enough. You’re more than enough, that’s not what I meant.”

Nate smiled in response before you added “I just see all these girls walk through school with their friends and.. it makes me feel sad because I don’t have any friends I can talk to or walk through school with.. I sometimes feel like I’m getting on your nerves because I talk to you so much.”

Nate scoffed as he walked towards the TV "C'mon you could never annoy me." He assured you as he turned the TV on. Then he turned off the main light and plopped down next to you before turning on the bedside lamp.

When you didn't respond to him, he added "I understand that you want to have friends at school, but most of the girls at school are... awful. They're fake, and really mean and all they care about is boys and sex."

You really wanted to believe him but there’s just no way every single girl was like that. And Nate also couldn’t possibly know every single girl at school.

Nate looked at you and it was almost as if he could read your thoughts, because he knew you didn’t quite believe him.

And it irritated him.

You always believed him everything so why were you questioning him now?

He quickly changed the topic in an attempt to put a stop to your thoughts. “I still can’t believe you’re mine by the way...” He said as he softly intertwined his fingers with yours, smiling at you.

And it worked like a charm.

You smiled shyly as you avoided his somewhat intense gaze. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to him looking at you like that.

Nate decided to take it a step further, stroking your cheek with his other hand until you slowly looked back at him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked quietly, almost as if he was scared you’d say no.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to kiss you, but you literally never kissed anyone before and you were scared that Nate would laugh at you.

“Um… yeah just… please don’t laugh at me.” you chuckled. Nate smirked “Don’t worry, I won’t. We’ll take it slow, yeah?” He said as he scooted closer.

He let go of your hand and moved it to your left cheek instead, cupping it gently as he pulled your face closer. He leaned in until his lips finally touched yours.

The feeling was foreign but you enjoyed it nonetheless. His lips were so soft as they moved against your own. You tried to mimic his movements as your brows furrowed in concentration.

Nate slowly broke the kiss as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort “How did it feel?” He asked as his eyes were glued to your lips. “It felt.. really good.” You responded quietly.

“Can we try again?” You asked as you fiddled with you shirt again.

Fuck, why were you so cute?

“Sure, of course.” Nate responded “You can touch me too, you know?” He added as he took your right hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Oh, okay..” You smiled before leaning in again.

Nate pressed his lips against yours once again. He could tell you were more eager this time when you leaned in first. You tilted your head slightly, like you had seen on TV several times, and it already felt more natural and deeper than the first kiss.

You felt incredibly excited with how close Nate was to you right now, and you also had this warm, fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

It was almost like your body worked on its own. Your hand slid from his shoulder to his neck as you closed your eyes, and your lips finally seemed to move more in sync.

Nates hand moved to your waist in an attempt to pull you even closer, while your unoccupied hand moved to his cheek.

He pressed kiss after kiss onto your lips making sure to take his time with you, some kisses lasting longer than others.

You were the first one to break the kiss this time, since you were running out of breath. “Wow.. that was amazing.” You chuckled as you slowly removed your hands from Nate.

He smirked at you, clearly happy that you enjoyed kissing him, because he felt the same way. He was definitely glad that you didn’t straddle his lap though, because then you probably would’ve felt just how happy he truly was.

“Wanna do it again?”

✎ Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this part as well. If you have any questions/feedback please let me know ♡

- Cassandra

#nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs scenario #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs #nate jacobs smut #nate euphoria #euphoria imagine #euphoria #jacob elordi x y/n #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x you #jacob elordi x reader

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reiderwriter · 11 months

Text

At Long Last Love Has Arrived

Final Chapter of That's What You Get

Summary: After a hard case, the team gathers in a celebration of love and friendship.

Warnings: suggestive content, no smut. Spoilers for Seaaon 7 Episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: This is it! This is the final chapter! It's been a long journey and I'm so thankful to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged, and generally followed along with the story! And to anyone who is here now that it's finished: Thank you as well! For now, this is everything I have planned for this series, but I might add a few epilogues a few months down the line!

For everyone waiting for my last week of kinktober content, thank you for being so patient! I'm hoping to get it all finished and the backlog up this weekend, so let's just count this as a super special weekend special!

As always, you can find my masterlist here and the series masterlist here!

It was late in the day when the case finally wrapped, and you'd never felt more relieved to have come out of a case unscathed.

JJ was a wreck, obviously, having had her family targeted and believing on multiple occasions that she was about to lose her partner. Emily was acting strange, too, and you were growing more concerned with her, especially after she'd put herself in harm's way to save Will.

The team was exhausted, and you gladly slunked away that night, practically falling into your own apartment as you tried to bury a day of close calls. Spencer followed you, of course. The two of you sat silently together after the days events, just thankful to have company, really.

Your husband (you were still warming yourself up to that title) sat, jaw tensed, on your couch, book in hand and hair a mess as you sat beside him, slowly sinking further into the couch as you thanked the gods that everyone got through that, but especially him.

"Spencer," you whispered, looking at him to see if he'd notice your small sounds. No reaction.

"Spencer." You tried again, still in a whisper, but he still didn't make a move. Sighing and falling further into the couch, you decided just to go for it and laid your head in his lap quietly, closing your eyes and finding a comfortable position. He didn't bat an eye, though, simply tangling a hand through your hair and gently stroking it until the comforting repetition pulled you into a dreamless slumber.

He tried to wake you up gently a few hours later, but the shrill ring of his cell interrupted his gentle touches. You gasped and startled up, almost headbutting him but instead ending up face to face, close enough to hear the hitch in his breath as he caught you just before you collided.

"Sorry… I must've fallen asleep." Your voice was low, mostly because you'd let your gaze fall down to his lips, getting distracted by his proximity.

"You did." He said, stroking your back and looking just as distracted.

"We should probably pick that call up, right," you suggested, but you were already being drawn into his orbit, noses practically touching.

"Maybe we should," he replied, but instead of moving to do so, he simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and pulled your face up to his. The slant of his lips against yours was calming, so sweet and familiar, and so goddamn good that it helped drown out the pitchy screech of his phone. His hand stayed firmly on your jaw, controlling your movements and showing you exactly what he wanted in these stolen moments.

As the kiss went on, it grew hotter, a gentle flame searing your chest as you begged his lips to put it out, needing more and more of him. His hand left your jaw, falling instead to your ass as he pulled you on top of him fully, letting you straddle him as he kept your lips connected.

You were entranced, letting him devour you to your heart's content. You wanted to move your hips to feel more of him at your core, but he had a firm grip and wasn't letting you go that easily.

"Talk about topping from the bottom," you laughed into his ear as you pulled away for a second, pushing your hair behind your ear before he grabbed you and pulled you down for another hungry kiss.

"Don't get bratty, Y/N, we both know you're a pillow princess," you laughed at that and he took advantage, pressing his lips to your neck as he finally let your hips fall to meet his. Your laugh morphed into a hiss as you desperately clung to his shoulders, head thrown back in the bliss of what was to come.

The ringing had stopped, thankfully, and honestly, it was so far from your mind that you'd almost completely forgotten what had woken you in the first place.

Until it started again, except this time it was vibrations in your pants and you practically moaned out loud before clapping a hand over your mouth and bolting from Spencer's lap, grabbing your phone as fast as you could while Spencer barely contained his enjoyment of the situation.

"This is Y/N." You said into the receiver as you glared daggers at him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but considering Doctor Reid just let my call ring out, I think I might have." David Rossi's barely contained mirth was evident even through the phone, and you mouthed some bad words at Spencer as he grabbed you and pulled you down into his lap again.

"Since that wasn't a question, I won't be dignified it with a response. Is there anything you need, Rossi?" You asked, tipping your head back against Spencer’s shoulder but not letting yourself relax just yet. You'd never be able to live it down if you made any mistakes on this call.

"Somehow, the knuckleheads around me keep getting engaged and married, and as a generous soul, I find myself wanting to help them."

"Who got engaged?" You said, suddenly perking up. It'd been a tough day. Some good news and a celebration were direly needed.

"Relax, I'm getting there. Are you and your now seemingly permanent husband free tomorrow night? A little birdie may have told me about a certain blonde finally giving into a proposal today. That same birdie may also have already flown out a Mrs. Jareau to bare witness."

"David Rossi, has anyone ever told you what a wonderful man you are?"

"Not enough, I'm sure."

"We'll be there. What time?" He told you the details, and you whispered them into Spencer's ear, knowing that was just as good as jotting it down on paper.

"And Rossi?" You said, as you were about to say your goodbyes, "thank you. For everything." The call ended and looked back up at Spencer from your place on his lap.

"I think we have another shotgun wedding to attend."

–X–

Waiting for JJ to come down in her wedding dress, you were reminded again of what a truly wonderful choice of husband you had made.

The two of you had arrived together at the wedding, but had made a small attempt to separate yourselves for now, not wanting to take the attention away from JJ and Will on their big day after their nightmarish week. You'd had a quick wink from Penelope, though, and a wiggle of the eyebrows from Emily, which made you chuckle as she handed you a flute of champagne.

"You look incredible, Mrs. Reid." She said under her breath, and you giggled a bit but called her off as best you could.

"Laying low for now, so keep your mouth shut, Agent Prentiss." She stuck her tongue out at you, and the two of you burst into laughter as you enjoyed the peaceful ambience Rossi had created in his back garden.

"If Rossi ever re-retires, he should think of pursuing a career as a party planner. I know writing is working out well for him, but damn, that man could make a killing." Emily joked, catching your attention for a second, but you were distracted, eyes watching Reid from across the lawn.

He was crouched down beside Henry, showing the eager, bright-eyed boy a magic trick. He looked so happy, so genuinely engaged with Henry, focusing his entire attention on him, that you couldn't help but watch on fondly. You knew how it felt to have his attention devoted entirely on you, and you felt your skin grow warm as you imagined how he would be with his own children.

With your children.

"Looking a little feverish there, Y/N. Baby feverish." In embarrassment, you looked away, letting your eyes fall around the lawn to anything but Reid as you tried to stammer out a response.

"Whatever could you mean? Oh, would you look at that, Hotch is calling me over, see you."

A skilful exit it was not, and now you'd forced yourself to go and make awkward conversation with your boss for a few minutes to escape the cackles of laughter escaping Emily behind you. You felt your ears glow red as you slowly marched across the lawn, convinced that someone was going to try and extinguish you before you reached your destination.

Luckily, Beth saw you approach before Hotchner did and called out to you, extending a smile and a greeting.

"Y/N, you look lovely. It's great to see you. How have you been?" You exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a while before Hotch cut in again.

''Beth, I think the ceremony is starting soon. Would you mind finding Jack for me while I discuss something with Y/N?" He dismissed her effortlessly, and you suddenly dreaded the conversation that was about to come, noting your slip up from a few nights before.

"Y/N, I don't mean to pry, but I've been meaning to ask you about your relationship with Spencer." Your eyes opened wide as you blinked at him again for another second.

"Hold on, you don't know?" He looked down at you with a furrowed brow, somehow thinking you'd both misunderstood the conversation and where it was headed.

In all honesty, you'd jumped to the conclusion after his warning over the phone the day before that he'd known about your relationship with Spencer. It didn't really make all that much sense to you, but you thought he must've been your second witness, only because there were very few people with the power to keep Penelope Garcia silent. But now, you wondered if you'd been wrong.

"Don't know what? Y/N, I'm simply asking a question about your physical relationship with Reid and if you think it will color either of your judgements on cases."

"Physical… oh my god." You begged the earth to swallow you whole at that point.

"I'm correct in thinking you two had relations whilst we were staying in Las Vegas, am I not?" His brow stayed furrowed as he fished for more information.

"How… How did you know?"

"Spencer babbled about Star Trek in the lobby that last morning in Vegas. He seemed nervous, and combined with your suspicious attitude, it wasn't exactly a well-kept secret. Plants aren't great hiding spots, Y/N."

"Oh god," you groaned again, a hand falling to your mouth to cover your shocked face as you took everything in. He'd practically known from the start, even if he hadn't really known. "So you want to know if we can be trusted to stay impartial in the field."

"Simply put, yes, it is a concern of mine. The FBI technically frowns on casual hookups between employees, but in this case, if you can work professionally-"

"We're married," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. You almost enjoyed the shock on Aaron Hotchner's face as you dropped that bombshell, as momentary as it was.

"That certainly…changes things." He considered your words for a moment before opening his mouth again. "We can talk about this in the office on Monday. For now, congratulations are in order."

As you clicked your glasses together awkwardly, Rossi gathered everyone's attention, ready to begin the ceremony. You took your place next to Spencer and let him grab your hand and squeeze it for a moment, sharing a look before you turned your gaze back to JJ and watched as her mother walked her down the aisle to marry the love of her life.

His hand in yours was warm and constant, and he held you so softly that you felt like you were floating. He'd been worried that morning that you'd feel slightly forlorn at the wedding ceremony. After all, you didn't have much of one, even if he'd promised you 100 do-overs and vow renewals.

But standing here with him, you found yourself feeling thankful simply that he was there with you. Your wedding had been perfect, and you gladly applauded JJ and Will as they finally kissed at the altar, wishing them all the bliss that you felt in that moment.

The party was a blast and you had an amazing time eating, drinking and dancing with all your guests, gladly taking the opportunity to hog Spencer for a few dances, enjoying how you were able to shamelessly cling to him with no one batting an eye. Your joy and laughter spilt out every time he swung you around and pulled you into him, abuzz with love.

You were almost glad when JJ called you all in for a quick speech, grateful to let your feet have a rest - Spencer may have been dancing enthusiastically, but he was still Spencer, and your toes had been attacked a few times in the course of your few dances.

"I want to say thank you for coming here tonight, and, of course, thank you, Rossi, for hosting this beautiful wedding. It's not every day we get to celebrate a wedding in the BAU, let alone two in one year, so I'm just thankful we got to come together to celebrate like this."

Will looked perplexed by her side as she raised her flute to start the toast.

"Hold on, who else got married?"

Your eyes widened as you stopped your champagne flute by your lips, suddenly catching on to the thread of conversation.

"Oh my god, it was you!" You shouted, jumping up and probably confusing every single guest in attendance. "JJ, you- you were the other witness!" You stood there shaking a pointed finger at her, semi shocked.

"Witness to what?" Morgan asked tentatively, wondering what he'd been left out of for a second.

"I guess the cats out the bag. Sorry, Spence."

"Why are you apologising to Spencer? Who got married?" Derek's questions were going unanswered, though, as you blubbered in the middle of the crowd suddenly put the pieces together.

"You know, the FBI really shot themselves in the foot when they let you go over to Homeland. You're good." You cracked a smile at JJ, and she smiled back, just as you felt a hand on your back.

"We didn't want to announce it here and hijack your wedding, but since you kinda let it slip first, would you mind if we…?" Spencer vaguely gestured between you, just as JJ let him take the floor, her and Will standing off to the side as Spencer turned the both of you around to face the crowd.

You tried to meet his gaze as he did but his eyes stayed trained on the crowd in front of you instead. Still puzzled, he began to talk, and you listened.

"Last month, we chose to get married in Las Vegas," he started and braced for impact as he looked out at the audience. "And- and it seems like most of you knew that?" He'd theorised that most of your team knew already, but he wasn't prepared for just how many of them stood looking back at him with a sheepish 'yes, we know' look on their faces.

"Wait, how do so many of you know?" He glanced around the crowd, landing on Rossi's gloating face first.

"Don't look at me kid, you told me about it, and I kept my mouth shut."

He turned to Emily next. "Y/N sent me a text meant for someone else, and I tortured the information out of her after that."

Exasperated, he looked down at you before shaking his head and looking at Hotch.

"I expressed some concerns about your… involvement earlier, and Y/N informed me about your relationship status." He explained, tone serious in that mocking way only he could carry off.

"And I was there, and so was Penelope." JJ filled in the gaps, leaving you feeling particularly bashful at Spencer’s side.

In a second, though, you were consumed by giggles as Morgan whipped around on Penelope dramatically.

"Et tu, baby girl? Am I seriously the only one who didn't know?" Morgan glanced around receiving pats on the back from the crowd as they slowly trickled back to the dance floor, picking up extra drinks as they went.

"No, I'm there with you, Morgan. JJ didn't even tell me you guys were dating." Will said, looking genuinely taken aback once again.

"Oh, well. That's probably because we didn't actually date. We just got married." You replied, feeling your face flood with heat as you stuttered the words out once again.

"You're telling me I had to almost die to get JJ to agree to marry me, even after 7 years of dating and a child, and you managed to convince a woman to do it in one night in Vegas?" Will seemed genuinely impressed, and with a laugh, gave Spencer a clap on the back awkwardly as he offered his congratulations.

Penelope led Morgan away to console him, and the other happy couple walked back to the dance floor again as well, leaving you in the arms of your husband, as you finally had to face your small mistakes.

"So, Mrs. Reid, whatever happened to keeping this to ourselves for a while?"

"Honest mistakes, both of them, I swear." He took your hands in his and pulled them up so he could kiss your wrists before gently dropping them and pulling you in at the waist.

His mouth fell to your ears as he spoke again.

"And I was so looking forward to using one of the methods we brainstormed the other night." You stood confused for a second as he pulled back to watch your expressions, your mouth twitching the second you realised what he meant.

Ring. Motel. Loud sex. And breeding you until he knocked you up.

Clearing your throat, you wrapped your arms up and around his shoulders, hanging yourself off him, putting yourself at his mercy as you fluttered your eyelashes up at him.

"Well, I wouldn't want to spoil your enjoyment now, would I? I'm sure we can still find the time to try those methods out."

The excitement in his eyes was almost comical, and you genuinely yelped as he literally swept you off your feet.

"Spencer, what are you doing? Put me down!"

"No, you're coming home with me, Mrs. Reid. Sorry, it's official now. You're mine."

"And I'm not going to forget it easily, now put me down."

"And let you go back on your promise to let me do some very dirty things to you? Never."

With another startled squeak, he carried you through the crowd and right to the doors, carrying you all the way into your new life together.

At long last, your love had arrived, and he was carrying you away into your future.

🏷 @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @whovianwholikesgirls @doriantomybasil

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderreplies #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #series: that's what you get #completed series #spencer reid fluff

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amara-scott · 1 month

Note

Could you maybe do fluff Mattheo X sick Ravenclaw reader and he pampers her and will carry and hold her?

Ooohhh sweeet, yes ☺️🙏🏼

A Warm Embrace

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Raveclaw!Reader Fandom: Harry Potter: Slytherin Boys

The moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, my throat was raw, and every inch of my body ached as if I’d been hit by a Bludger. The soft, early morning light filtering through the tall windows of my Ravenclaw room felt too bright, too harsh, and I groaned, turning away from it. My bed, usually a haven of warmth and comfort, now felt like a trap I couldn’t escape.

I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I collapsed back onto my pillows with a whimper. I was supposed to meet Mattheo Riddle in the library this morning. We’d been studying together for weeks now, and despite his Slytherin reputation, I found myself looking forward to our time together more than I cared to admit. But today, even the thought of dragging myself out of bed was unbearable. It all started yesterday during class, but now- on a beautiful autumn saturday- I felt even worse.

Just as I was contemplating how to get to the hospital wing without collapsing, there was a soft knock on my door. I frowned, trying to gather the strength to respond, but before I could, the door creaked open.

“Y/N?”

Mattheo’s voice was soft, filled with concern as he stepped into the room. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d rushed to get here, and his sharp eyes scanned the room until they landed on me.

“Mattheo?” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

He moved swiftly to my bedside, setting down a tray with tea and what looked like a bowl of soup. “Theo mentioned you weren’t feeling well,” he explained, his gaze not leaving mine. Theo? Oh, yeah. Theodore Nott was partnered up with me yesterday in Transfiguration. He must have realized my state before I liked to admit it. “When you didn’t show up to the library, I thought I’d check on you.”

I tried to sit up again, but the effort was too much. Mattheo frowned, gently placing a hand on my shoulder to keep me from straining. “You’re burning up,” he muttered, his brow furrowing as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “You should be in the hospital wing.”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed by how weak I sounded. “I thought I could sleep it off.”

Mattheo sighed, his expression softening. “You’re not a bother, Y/N. And you’re certainly not going to get better lying here alone.” He paused, his gaze searching my face. “Let me take you to the hospital wing.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could, Mattheo was already moving, carefully sliding an arm under my knees and another behind my back.

“Wait, Mattheo—” I started, but the words died in my throat as he effortlessly lifted me into his arms.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he cradled me against his chest. “I’ve got you.”

Despite the fever clouding my mind, I felt a flush creep up my cheeks. I wasn’t used to being taken care of, especially not by Mattheo, whose usual demeanor was cool and collected. But as he held me, his grip firm yet gentle, I couldn’t help but lean into him, the warmth of his body easing some of the chills that racked mine.

Mattheo carried me through the empty corridors of the castle with ease, his long strides steady and confident. As we passed through another hallway, I caught a glimpse of Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, both of whom raised their eyebrows in surprise.

“Is she alright?” Theo asked, stepping forward, his usual carefree expression replaced with genuine concern.

“She’s burning up,” Mattheo replied, not slowing his pace. “I’m taking her to the hospital wing.”

Blaise exchanged a glance with Theo, but neither of them questioned Mattheo’s actions. Instead, they fell in step behind him, ready to offer their help if needed. Theo sent me a look and wink. A bright smirk on his face. I burried my face into Mattheo's shoulder, trying to hide my red face.

When we finally reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey took one look at me and immediately bustled over, shooing the boys away as she began to examine me. Mattheo, however, refused to leave my side, his hand never letting go of mine.

“She’s dehydrated and exhausted,” Madam Pomfrey said, her tone brisk as she prepared a potion. “She’ll need to stay here for the night.”

“Can I stay with her?” Mattheo asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. “Only if you promise not to disturb her rest,” she finally relented, her tone softening. “She needs quiet and care.”

Mattheo nodded, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “I promise.”

Once Madam Pomfrey had administered the potion and made sure I was comfortable, she left us alone, muttering about fetching more supplies. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the curtains and the faint sounds of the castle settling for the night.

Mattheo sat beside me on the edge of the bed, his hand still holding mine. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if he regretted staying.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “You’ve been there for me more times than I can count, Y/N. Let me take care of you this time.”

I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the fever. “Thank you,” I murmured, my eyes fluttering closed.

Mattheo shifted slightly, and I felt the bed dip as he lay down beside me. “Get some rest,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I sighed softly, nestling against him, the steady beat of his heart soothing me. For the first time that day, I felt truly safe, the weight of my illness lifting slightly as I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

———

When I woke again, it was dark outside, the only light in the room coming from the soft glow of a candle on the bedside table. The fever had lessened, though I still felt weak and tired. But the ache in my body was no longer unbearable, and I realized with a start that I was still wrapped in Mattheo’s arms.

He awakened, his dark eyes watching me with a mixture of concern and something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Better,” I replied, my throat still scratchy but not as painful as before. “Thanks to you.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re the one who fought off the fever, Y/N. I just... helped a little.”

“A little?” I teased, my voice still weak but laced with affection. “You carried me through half the castle, Mattheo. I think that’s more than a little.”

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Alright, maybe more than a little.” His expression grew serious again, his gaze locking with mine. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

I reached up, my hand trembling slightly, and cupped his cheek. “I’m more than alright,” I whispered, my heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something I hadn’t quite allowed myself to acknowledge until now.

He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. When he opened them again, there was a warmth in his gaze that made my breath catch.

“I care about you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability I hadn’t heard from him before. “More than I think you realize.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a rush of emotion so intense it almost overwhelmed me. “I care about you too, Mattheo,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of the words.

For a moment, we just lay there, the unspoken feelings between us finally brought to light, filling the space with a warmth that was both comforting and exhilarating. Then, slowly, Mattheo leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.

“Go back to sleep, it's the middle of the night,” he murmured against my skin, his lips brushing lightly over my temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With that, I closed my eyes, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that I was in the arms of someone who truly cared.

———

The next morning, when I woke again, the first thing I felt was the warmth of Mattheo’s embrace. The fever had finally broken, and though I was still weak, I felt a thousand times better than I had the day before.

Mattheo was already awake, his hand gently stroking my hair as he watched me with a soft, contented expression. “Good morning,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

“Good morning,” I replied, my voice still a little rough but much stronger than before. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes full of warmth as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

And as I lay there, wrapped in his arms, I knew that this—more than any potion or spell—was the best medicine I could have ever asked for.

———

I hope you enjoyed it <3

#imagine #imagines #fanfiction #harry potter #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys

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urfavoritewriter · 9 months

Text

More Than Neighbors

A commission for an anonymous user here on Tumblr, thank you for commissioning me!

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Endo, Digestion, Melting Digestion, Multiple Instances of Vore, burping

The sun cast a warm glow over the new neighborhood as Jake and Andrew arrived at their freshly leased apartment. The building, a quaint three-story structure, stood proudly with a coat of welcoming beige paint. As they stepped inside, the scent of fresh paint tickled their noses—a sign that this place was truly their canvas to fill.

The apartment had a cozy charm, with sunlight streaming through the large windows that adorned the living room. The kitchen, though compact, exuded a functional elegance, complete with gleaming appliances and granite countertops. A promising beginning to their life together.

With an exchange of glances and a shared smile, Jake and Andrew embarked on a rhythm of unpacking. The air was charged with the excitement of new beginnings. The sound of cardboard boxes being shuffled and furniture being arranged reverberated through the apartment.

Jake's lively voice, filled with enthusiasm, echoed, "Babe, I'm thinking the couch should go right here, what do you say?"

Andrew, a bit more measured in his responses, replied, "Yeah, that works. Gives a nice view of the TV and opens up the space."

Their shared brainstorming intertwined with the mundane yet significant task of setting up their home. Little did they know that this cozy abode would soon become the stage for a more unconventional kind of interaction with their neighbor. Or, at the very least, one that Jake attempted to hide really well.

"I'd love to stay and help, but I've got to go to work. Maybe wait on the heavier tasks till I'm back home, and set up what you can until then," Andrew suggested, a hint of regret in his voice as duty called him away.

Jake nodded, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "Sure thing, babe. I'll leave the heavy lifting for when my strong man is back in action." He winked playfully, earning a chuckle from Andrew.

As Andrew prepared to head out the door, Jake couldn't resist a mischievous comment, "Thinking of greeting our neighbors later. You know, being the friendly new guy in the building."

Andrew shot him a sidelong glance, his lips curling into a smirk. "Just don't get into any trouble. And no overly friendly offers, alright?" he quipped.

Jake feigned innocence, a twinkle in his eye. "Who, me? Never!" he teased, giving Andrew a quick peck on the cheek before sending him off to work with a playful swat on the butt. "Hey, I just want to make sure we're on good terms with everyone around here. Plus, who knows, maybe they're super cool."

With a peck on Jake's cheek, Andrew replied, "Alright, social butterfly. Do us proud. See you later, okay?"

"Sure thing. Have a good day at work!" Jake replied, continuing the mundane task of unboxing their many sentimental objects for the next hour.

Jake took a moment in the shiny new bathroom, adjusting his hair and shirt. He wanted to make a good first impression, not just for himself but also for Andrew. With a deep breath, he looked at himself in the mirror, nodding as if giving himself a mental pep talk.

Feeling ready, Jake strolled out of the apartment, locking the door behind him, and headed for the next door. It felt a bit odd, making the rounds so soon, but he figured it was better to know his neighbors sooner rather than later.

Arriving at the door, he took another moment, clearing his throat and then knocked twice. The anticipation was a mix of nerves and excitement, not knowing who would answer the door.

The door creaked open, revealing a man with a dad bod, dressed in a blue gym shirt that depicted a muscular guy lifting, paired with black shorts. The shirt hugged his form in a way that accentuated his physique rather than hiding it, and the casual attire only added to the relaxed charm he exuded. This was Thomas, the neighbor Jake was about to get to know.

"Hey there!" Thomas greeted, a friendly smile on his face. "You must be the new neighbor. I'm Thomas." He extended a hand, a firm handshake revealing the calluses of someone who might hit the gym often.

"Jake," he replied, returning the handshake. "Nice to meet you, Thomas."

Thomas chuckled a bit, the friendly tone still lingering. "Likewise, Jake. So, what brings you to this side of the building?"

Jake shifted slightly, feeling a bit shy under Thomas's friendly gaze. "Just moved in with my boyfriend, Andrew, next door. Thought I'd say hi to the neighbors."

"Ah, the happy couple! Welcome to the neighborhood," Thomas said, rubbing his chin playfully. "You know, you're lucky to have me as a neighbor. I'm like the unofficial welcoming committee around here."

Jake grinned, finding Thomas's confidence oddly endearing. "Well, lucky us then. Thanks for the warm welcome."

Thomas leaned against the door frame, his demeanor casual but with a hint of self-assuredness. "No problem at all. Say, why don't you come in? I was just about to make some tea. A little neighborly chat won't hurt."

Jake hesitated for a moment but couldn't resist the friendly offer. "Sure, why not? Tea sounds good."

The apartment had a pleasant aroma of warmth and familiarity as Thomas led Jake in. It was a cozy space with an inviting feel, making Jake feel a bit more at ease. Thomas moved effortlessly to the small kitchenette, pulling out two cups and preparing tea.

"Here you go, Jake," Thomas said, handing over one of the steaming cups. "I've got a knack for tea, so enjoy."

"Thanks," Jake replied, taking a sip, the warmth of the tea comforting in his hands. "You've got a nice place here."

Thomas grinned, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Yeah, it's my little bachelor pad. Not as neat as it could be, but it's home."

They exchanged pleasantries, Jake finding himself drawn to Thomas's charismatic demeanor. The conversation flowed easily, with Thomas expressing genuine interest in getting to know his new neighbor. At one point, Jake couldn't help but voice a thought that had been lingering in his mind.

"You know, Thomas, you're a pretty interesting guy," Jake said, a playful glint in his eyes. "And, well, quite attractive."

Thomas's response was a cocky smirk, as if he'd expected the compliment. "I get that a lot, and for good reason."

Jake blushed slightly, his admission out in the open. "I hope I'm not being too forward or anything. It's just, you seem like a cool guy."

Thomas chuckled, the cocky edge still present. "No worries, Jake. I can handle a compliment. And cool? I'll take it. We'll have to hang out more, get to know each other better. Maybe introduce me to that boyfriend of yours."

Jake nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, that sounds great. Andrew would love to meet you, I'm sure."

With that, the conversation continued, the two sharing stories and laughter, the bond between neighbors growing stronger. Little did Jake know that the more time he spent with Thomas, the deeper his fascination would become. Jake couldn't stop eye-ing his neighbor's dad bod, and especially his slightly protruding belly, which was cozy and inviting.

"What's up?" Thomas said, noticing Jake's attraction to his body and his extended silence.

"Say, Thomas," Jake spoke, his voice a little shaken and apprehensive. "I was wondering if you could… You know," He said, avoiding his neighbor's direct gaze. "Swallow me up?"

The revelation hung in the air, creating a moment of awkward tension between Jake and Thomas. Jake's request was so unexpected that even Thomas, with his confident demeanor, was momentarily taken aback.

"Swallow you up?" Thomas repeated, a bemused expression crossing his face.

Jake, realizing how unusual his request sounded, quickly began to backtrack. "Oh, uh, sorry. That was a weird thing to say. I just thought, you know, it's been a long day with all the moving, and I thought it might be a way to relax. Forget I said anything."

Thomas, recovering from his initial surprise, chuckled. "Hey, no need to apologize. That's definitely one way to unwind. But, you know, what about your boyfriend? Shouldn't he be the one you'd want to spend your evening with?"

Jake hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room as if searching for an excuse. "Andrew's at work. He won't be back for hours. I figured it might be a good time, you know?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow, the cocky smirk returning. "Well, well, looks like I've got some competition with your boyfriend's schedule. Alright, Jake, let's give it a try. Why not?"

Jake's eyes widened in surprise, the realization sinking in that Thomas was actually considering his bizarre request. He stammered, "Wait, really?"

Thomas chuckled again, approaching Jake with a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, really. I was beginning to think the tea in me could use some company." He teased.

As Thomas moved closer, Jake felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. Little did he know that this seemingly casual decision would set the stage for a series of events that would reshape the dynamics of their relationships in ways he couldn't have imagined.

Thomas's demeanor shifted, and a dominant aura enveloped him as he towered over Jake. With a wicked grin, he leaned in, his tongue emerging to sensually trace patterns across Jake's face, leaving a glossy trail of saliva in its wake.

Jake, caught in a mix of surprise and arousal, felt a shiver run down his spine. The dominant display was more than he had bargained for, but there was a certain allure to Thomas's confident and commanding presence.

As Thomas continued to lick, his teasing commentary echoed through the room. "You wanted to relax, right? Well, I'm here to make sure it's a memorable experience for you."

Jake, unable to resist the heat building within him, nodded in agreement. "Yes, I… I wanted something different."

Thomas, seemingly pleased with Jake's response, opened his mouth wide. The sight of those teeth, the expanse of his tongue, and the moist interior of his mouth created a mesmerizing spectacle. Jake, transfixed, felt a combination of excitement and anticipation.

With deliberate slowness, Thomas brought his open mouth closer to Jake's head, giving him a teasing pause. "Ready for the next part?" he asked, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Jake, feeling the heat of the moment, nodded again. "Yeah, go for it."

Thomas didn't waste any time. He extended his tongue and, with a deliberate and sensual motion, began swallowing Jake's head. The sensation was unlike anything Jake had experienced before—being enveloped by warmth, the pressure increasing gradually as he slid further into Thomas's mouth.

As Jake descended into the darkness, he couldn't help but marvel at the intimacy of the act. The feeling of Thomas's teeth grazing against his skin, the wetness of his tongue, and the gentle pressure surrounding him created a heady mix of pleasure and surrender, and he couldn't be more grateful that he had been forward with his request.

Thomas relished the sensation of Jake's head nestled within the confines of his mouth. The warm, tight space engulfed Jake, and Thomas couldn't resist savoring the unique flavors that each part of his captive offered.

With a deliberate and practiced motion, Thomas began the process of swallowing Jake further. His hands, which had initially rested casually on Jake's torso, now came into play. Fingers pressed gently into Jake's sides, aiding the swallowing process and ensuring a smooth descent.

The fabric of Thomas's shirt stretched as Jake's form traveled lower, gradually disappearing into the voracious depths of Thomas's mouth. The sensation of Jake's descent was hot, tight, and surprisingly intimate. Thomas's throat worked rhythmically, each gulp accompanied by a low, satisfied hum.

As Jake's upper body passed the point of no return, Thomas reveled in the feel of his buttocks. The firm, plump curves were a tantalizing delight, and Thomas couldn't resist using his hands to savor the moment. Fingers kneaded into the soft flesh, ensuring every inch of Jake was embraced by the consuming journey.

Thomas's thick hands squeezed Jake's buttocks inside his mouth, relishing the feeling of the soft flesh yielding to his grasp. The act was both sensual and commanding, a testament to the control Thomas exerted over the devouring process.

As Thomas continued the deliberate swallowing, the bulge in his throat expanded, signaling Jake's gradual descent into the depths of his belly. The once-taut fabric of Thomas's shirt now strained and stretched, barely containing the increasing mass within. The sight was both enticing and provocative, the visible contours of Jake's form pressing against the fabric.

GULP!

With each successive gulp, Jake's head popped beneath the surface of Thomas's belly, causing a noticeable bulge from the outside. The fabric of Thomas's shirt clung desperately to the expanding mass within, the tight material pulled upward by the gravitational pull of Jake's journey into the man's digestive abyss.

The struggle of the fabric against the growing bulge was accentuated by the relentless swallowing. Thomas's throat worked with practiced precision, each gulp drawing Jake further into the churning depths of his belly. The once-cocky bachelor now seemed entirely consumed by the act, his concentration evident in the rhythmic motions of his throat.

The tight shirt, now strained beyond its limits, surrendered to the pressure. With a final, audible rip, the fabric gave way, exposing Thomas's expanding midsection. The bulge, no longer restrained by clothing, continued its ascent, offering a visual spectacle of Jake's gradual submersion into Thomas's digestive embrace.

Thomas's belly was much more pronounced with Jake entirely swallowed up, showcasing his curled up form beneath the bachelor's muscles. He rubbed his belly, moaning, as he let out a huge burp.

BuuuUuUuUuUuUrPPP!!

Thomas grinned, running a hand over his now exposed belly, the remnants of his torn shirt hanging from his waistband. "Well, shit, there goes my favorite gym shirt. And I thought it was tear-resistant. You owe me a new one."

He looked down at Jake's bulge inside him, the corners of his mouth curling up mischievously. "But, you know, it's worth it, just to have you all cozy in there, buddy."

Thomas reclined on his couch, feeling the subtle weight of Jake nestled within him. The torn shirt hung around his waist as a makeshift reminder of their unusual encounter. He ran a hand over his rounded belly, savoring the comforting fullness.

As hours passed, Jake found a peculiar coziness within Thomas's belly. His words, though muffled by the fleshy confines, conveyed a sense of contentment. "So damn cozy in here," Jake's voice reverberated, the sounds dulled by the warm expanse of Thomas's belly.

The bachelor lounged, occasionally shifting in a way that cradled Jake further within him. Thomas chuckled, responding to the muffled remarks. "Yeah? Glad you're enjoying it, buddy. Just chill. We got time, and let me know when that boyfriend of yours is about to come."

Hours drifted lazily by as Thomas continued to chill on his couch, occasionally rubbing his belly as if patting a pet that lay within. Jake, within the comfortable confines of Thomas's belly, began to squirm subtly. His muffled sounds conveyed a sense of restlessness.

Jake's voice was muffled, the words barely decipherable but hinting at the desire to be released. Thomas, catching on, sat up with a casual grin. "Alright, time to set you free, little guy."

Thomas leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, as the process of regurgitating Jake commenced. A low, guttural sound accompanied the motion, reminiscent of someone trying to force out an unexpected cough. As the first signs of Jake's reappearance became evident, a mixture of saliva and stomach acids accompanied him.

With a final, controlled heave, Jake emerged from Thomas's mouth. The dampened form of the once-swallowed man glistened, adorned with a sheen of Thomas's digestive fluids. Jake coughed and sputtered, the residue of the endosomatic adventure clinging to his form.

Thomas chuckled, leaning back as he wiped a stray droplet from the corner of his mouth. "There you go, Jake. Back to the land of the living, or at least out of my stomach."

Jake fumbled for a nearby napkin, wiping off the remnants of Thomas's digestive embrace from his face. He hesitated, glancing at Thomas with a mix of uncertainty and arousal.

"Fuck, that was hot as fuck," Jake admitted, his cheeks flushed. "Do you think, um… That maybe we could do this regularly?"

Thomas reclined on the couch, a cocky grin forming on his lips. "Regularly, huh? Well, who am I to say no? My gut's taken a liking to your round shape, and I figure I'd want to make use of this torn shirt again."

Jake, still catching his breath, grinned at Thomas. "Thanks, man. That was something else." With a casual wave, he headed back to his apartment, the door closing behind him.

In the privacy of his own place, Jake couldn't help but marvel at the wild experience. "Damn," he muttered, glancing at himself in the mirror. "Shower time before Andrew gets back."

Over the next few weeks, Jake found himself drawn to Thomas's door almost as if by an irresistible force. The frequency of his visits increased, and a peculiar routine developed—almost every time Andrew was out for work, Jake would find himself knocking on Thomas's door, eager for the sensation of being swallowed once more.

It became a clandestine affair, a secret passion that Jake couldn't resist indulging. The cozy afternoons spent nestled in Thomas's belly provided a unique escape, a refuge from the outside world. Thomas, despite his initial cockiness, seemed to enjoy the arrangement just as much.

Their encounters varied. Sometimes it was a quick, spontaneous venture, while on other occasions, Jake lingered longer, savoring the warmth and tightness of his endosoma retreat. As Thomas rubbed his belly in contentment, Jake relished the intimacy of the experience. The thrill of being swallowed, the muffled sounds of Thomas's surroundings, and the cozy darkness of his gut.

Each gulp, each audible swallow, became a part of their unspoken agreement. The torn gym shirt, now a remnant of many sessions, hung as a testament to their peculiar encounters. Thomas, ever the cocky host, reveled in the power dynamics of their arrangement. He would tease Jake with casual remarks, mocking him for how much he craved being inside him, how his gut's taking him from his boyfriend, and relishing the satisfaction of being the one in control. The muffled sounds of casual chatter, the gentle burps that followed, became routine.

One day, after weeks of their clandestine routine, Jake found himself stewing away in Thomas's gut. The familiar sensation of being enveloped in warmth and darkness was his routine escape from reality.

"Almost time for you to be out, bro," Thomas said, getting on his knees, preparing to regurgitate Jake, as they had done several times before. But, before the expected release, Jake squirmed in protest.

"Fuck, just take me," Jake said, his words muffled by the tight confinement of Thomas's gut, fully taken over by a surge of lust.

Thomas, taken aback, paused, looking at Jake with a mix of surprise and confusion. "You mean… like, for real? You want me to…?" he hesitated, gesturing toward his own belly.

Jake, caught in the moment of passion, nodded, confirming the unexpected twist in their usual routine. "Yeah, man. Digest me. Take me in. I want it," he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and abandon.

The unexpected turn left Thomas momentarily stunned, but the allure of Jake's plea proved to be too intoxicating to resist. With a smirk and a shake of his head, Thomas took a deep breath and said, "Glad you said that, a few more weeks and I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from ending you whether you asked for it or not."

Thomas sat back, a casual air about him as he reclined, teasing Jake about the gravity of his words. "You know, bro, you just signed up for the no do-overs, no take-backs deal. You're in my gut now, and you're gonna stay there."

Jake, a mix of excitement and realization playing on his features, squirmed a bit, confirming his acceptance of the unspoken agreement. "Yeah, man, no turning back. I'm all in."

Thomas, with a mischievous grin, decided to take Jake's commitment to a new level. "Alright, bro, you signed up for the 'no more talking' package too." taking Jake's acceptance as a cue, tightened his gut, muffling Jake's words almost to the point of illegibility. With a smug smirk, Thomas leaned back, basking in the moment as he let out a colossal burp that reverberated through the air.

BuuUuUuUurP!

The sound echoed around the room, a declaration of the new reality they had both willingly entered. Thomas, still chuckling casually, patted his slightly bulging belly, sealing the unspoken contract between them. The muffled, indistinct sounds from within only served to emphasize the intimate connection they now shared.

Thomas glanced at the buzzing phone, a smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like someone's missing their boy, huh?" he teased, waving Jake's phone in the air. "Got a bunch of missed calls and texts. Your boyfriend's probably worried sick about where you are."

He chuckled, placing the phone on a nearby table. "Man, I wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out where you really are. In this big, bulging gut of mine." Thomas patted his belly with a satisfied grin. "But we'll let him stew in curiosity a bit longer. Gotta savor the anticipation, you know?" Thomas said, as he headed to his bedroom.

He sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, the other idly rubbing his rounded belly. The bulge from Jake's presence was noticeable, a testament to the intimate arrangement inside. He chuckled, a low, satisfied sound, as he felt Jake squirming within him.

"First night you're staying this long, bro," Thomas remarked, speaking into the empty room. "Better get used to it because, after tonight, you're not coming out. You're gonna be part of me for the last few nights of your life." He shifted slightly, getting comfortable, and let out a contented sigh. "Sweet dreams, man."

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Thomas as he woke up, his gut still pronounced from the previous night's indulgence. Stretching languidly, he sat up, feeling the weight of Jake nestled within him.

Yawning, Thomas got out of bed and ambled towards the bathroom. The tiled floor felt cool beneath his feet. Leaning over the sink, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. With a toothbrush in hand, he began scrubbing his teeth clean.

As he brushed his teeth, his gaze shifted to the protruding belly that pressed against the edge of the sink. Thomas grinned cockily, aware that Jake was experiencing his morning routine for the first time.

"Morning, Jake, you good in there?" Thomas teased, speaking as if Jake could hear him. "Can't quite make out what you'd be saying, but I thought the gesture was nice." He chuckled, imagining Jake's muffled protests from within the confines of his gut.

Finishing up in the bathroom, Thomas got ready for the day ahead, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

As Thomas went about his day, the vibrations of Jake's phone periodically echoed in the room, a persistent reminder of the outside world that seemed increasingly distant. Each buzz was a testament to Andrew's growing worry and curiosity.

Teasingly, Thomas leaned back and patted his belly, as if saying to Jake that he's here to stay. "You know, bro, I think your body's getting a little softer in there. I'm known to have a rough digestion."

From Jake's perspective, the world inside Thomas's gut was undergoing a slow transformation. His clothes, once distinguishable, were becoming indistinct as they melded with the acids. The sensation was peculiar and, at times, disorienting, as his skin slowly melted; It was pleasant, it felt cozier than any of the previous time he's been in here, but it was still disorienting.

The muffled sound of Andrew's persistent calls and messages on Jake's phone served as a distant background noise, a stark contrast to the cocoon of warmth and semi-darkness that enveloped Jake within Thomas's belly.

On the second day, Jake's form inside Thomas's gut underwent a notable transformation. The once distinct features of his body were now indiscernible, a result of the ongoing process of digestion. The clothes that clung to him had long since lost their original form, merging with the liquefying remnants of Jake's physique.

Thomas, perhaps subconsciously or out of growing curiosity, patted his belly, noting a subtle change. The solid tautness that characterized Jake's initial presence was giving way to a softer, more pliable feel. The acids worked persistently, melting away the boundaries of Jake's form. It wasn't an ethereal or surreal process; it was the gritty reality of digestion, the breaking down of flesh and bone into a churning mixture, but despite that it still felt good to Jake.

The sudden, impatient knocking on the door jolted Thomas from his casual reverie. He swung the door open, and there stood Andrew, a mix of worry and irritation etched across his face.

"Hey, sorry to bother you this early, but have you seen Jake?" Andrew asked, his concern evident in his tone. "He's been missing for two days, and I'm getting really worried."

Thomas, wearing a hoodie that conveniently hid the changes in his midsection, shook his head. "Nah, man, haven't seen him. Sorry." There was an apologetic note in his voice as he subtly adjusted the hoodie.

"Fuck," Andrew said, seeming distressed and unaware of Thomas's gut. "Sorry. Just… Let me know if you ever do, okay?" He said, as he continued to the other apartments to ask his other neighbors.

Thomas closed the door and laid back against it, he couldn't resist a teasing smirk. He lifted the hoodie, revealing the slightly softer, bulging gut beneath. "All it took is a lift of my hoodie to show him where ya went. Too bad he'll never figure it out." he remarked, the cocky edge still present in his voice, as Jake squirmed inside his acid-filled gut.

On the third day, Thomas decided to hit the gym, his usual routine slightly altered by the recent addition of Jake to his physique. The once-toned bachelor now sported more of a dad bod, and a slight beer belly had developed, a testament to Jake's presence in his gut.

As he prepared for the workout, Thomas couldn't resist teasing Jake. "Well, bro, today's gonna be a tough one on you. Might speed up your digestion a bit," he quipped with a chuckle. "But hey, I figure I'll make the most of the gains from eating you. Gotta look more attractive when you're gone, right?" The casual banter flowed easily, as he got to exercise his muscles.

Thomas began his gym session with some heavy deadlifts, the weight clanging against the floor with each controlled drop. The impact reverberated through his core, the vibrations felt by Jake nestled within the confines of his bulging belly. With each lift, Thomas's abdominal muscles flexed and tightened, pressing against Jake in rhythmic pulses.

Moving on to bench presses, Thomas lay back on the bench, the pressure of the weights causing his gut to push outward. Jake, caught in the middle of this bodily symphony, experienced the compression and release as Thomas completed each repetition. Sweat glistened on Thomas's forehead, a testament to the exertion he was putting into the workout.

Transitioning to squats, Thomas's movements became more dynamic. As he descended into the squat position, Jake was subjected to the pressure between Thomas's thighs, a sensation that intensified with each rise. The fabric of Thomas's shorts stretched tightly over his expanding waistline, a visible reminder of Jake's presence within.

The stair climber machine was next on Thomas's agenda. With each step, the rhythmic impact resonated through his body, creating a gentle rocking motion for Jake. The pressure on Thomas's midsection increased, and Jake felt the subtle shifts as his surroundings changed with each step.

Finally, Thomas engaged in some core exercises, targeting his abs directly. Crunches and leg raises emphasized the region where Jake was nestled. The compression intensified with each repetition, the steady burn of the workout echoed within Thomas's bulging gut.

Throughout the entire routine, Thomas's banter continued. "You feeling the burn, bro?" he teased, fully aware of the unique experience Jake was undergoing within the confines of his ever-changing gut.

As the days progressed, Jake's once-solid form continued its relentless transformation within the acidic confines of Thomas's stomach. The digestive juices worked with ruthless efficiency, breaking down Jake's flesh and bones into a formless mass. The initial resistance of his physical structure gave way to the corrosive power of the stomach acids, reducing him to a mixture of liquid and dissolved remnants.

The process was slow and methodical. Jake's consciousness began to wane, his awareness slipping away in sync with the dissolution of his physical being. He became entangled in the chemical dance of digestion, losing touch with the boundaries of his form as the acids invaded every nook and cranny of his thick form.

The sensation was a paradoxical blend of pleasure and obliteration. Jake, in his reduced state, was suspended in a state of half-consciousness, afloat in the warm, corrosive embrace of Thomas's stomach. The once-distinct features of his body blurred into a formless, melted amalgamation, his essence merging with the strong digestive acids of Thomas.

As the dissolution progressed, Jake's thoughts became fragmented, his sense of self dissolving along with his body. The blissful haze of digestion enveloped him, a surreal journey into the abyss of being broken down and absorbed.

Thomas reclined on his couch, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips. His fingers drummed lazily on his bloated midsection, now transformed into a softer, beer-belly dad bod. The once-defined muscles were replaced by a plump layer, evidence of Jake's gradual assimilation into Thomas's physique.

"Look at this," Thomas mused, patting his slightly flattened stomach. "You're almost all mine, bro. I've been digesting you real good. Your essence is now part of what makes me, well, me. Bet you can't even comprehend that with how melted you are."

He let out a hearty belch, the sound reverberating through his sloshy midsection. Thomas's arrogance echoed in his words, a mix of crass amusement and self-satisfaction.

"You thought you could handle being in my gut regularly, but look at you now. Just a sloshy mess, melting away into nothingness. And here I am, getting beefier, looking better than ever," he continued, chuckling at the thought. "You're practically my personal enhancement, bro. A little seasoning to make me even more irresistible."

Thomas shifted, adjusting his posture to emphasize the changes in his physique. The casual arrogance in his voice painted a vivid picture of a man reveling in the results of his unconventional dietary choices.

"In a few more days, you'll be nothing but a memory, a part of my gains. Can't say it wasn't a good run for you, though. The best thing you did was willingly dive into my gut."

Thomas stepped out of his apartment and immediately encountered Andrew in the hallway, looking disheveled and anxious. Andrew's eyes widened at the noticeable change in Thomas's physique.

"Dude, have you seen Jake? I've been going out of my mind looking for him," Andrew pleaded, concern etched on his face. "You know what, don't fucking answer. I know you would've told me if you had already."

Thomas feigned innocence, scratching his head. "It's good, dude. Jake? Uhh, not sure, man. I mean, I've seen a lot of people around, you know? Can't keep track of everyone." He said, "Maybe he ghosted you or something. It happens. But hey," He gave Andrew a pat on the shoulder, "I'm here for ya if you need me, dude."

"Thanks, man." Andrew said insincerely, wanting nothing more than to know where his boyfriend went, but still appreciating the offer.

As they moved further away from each other, Thomas couldn't resist a sly grin, his hand casually rubbing his now beefier belly. "Damn, Jake. Not a word to your worried boyfriend? Never took you for the silent type." He teased as his stomach growled, knowing that Jake wasn't in a state to respond let alone comprehend, only existing for a few more days before he's fully digested down by the bigger man.

#male pred #male vore #digestion #male prey #m/m #gay vore #endosoma #melting digestion #reoccuring vore #burping #endo

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tastelikezweig · 2 months

Text

i love you, i’m sorry art donaldson x reader

⚠️ Not proofread, enjoy.

You walk through the hallway of Art's dorm building, your heart pounding with determination and anxiety. The last few weeks have been a blur of confusion and frustration. Everything seemed perfect, until Tashi got injured during a match. Since then, Art’s been increasingly distant, spending more time with Tashi and less with you.

You knock on Art’s door, trying to steady your breathing. “Art, it’s me. I need to talk you.”

The door swings open, and Art looks at you with a hint of surprise. “Hey. Sure, come in.”

You step inside, glancing around the room. It’s the same as always, but the atmosphere feels different, colder somehow. Art sits on his bed, motioning for you to take a seat.

“So,” you start, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been feeling like we need to talk. Lately, you’ve been so distant. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Art looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t realize I was being distant. I’ve just been really busy, you know, helping Tashi with her recovery and all.”

You nod, but your heart sinks. “I understand that Tashi’s hurt and needs support. But what about us? I haven’t seen you in weeks. You barely text me anymore, and when we do talk, it feels like you’re somewhere else.”

Art shifts uncomfortably. “It’s not like that. I’ve just been trying to be there for her. She’s been having a tough time, and I want to help.”

You feel a surge of frustration. “I get that you want to help her, but you’re my boyfriend. I thought we were in this together. You can’t just drop everything for someone else.”

Art’s eyes narrow slightly. “I haven’t dropped everything. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You’re here physically,” you say, your voice cracking with emotion, “but you’re not really present. I feel like I’m fighting for your attention, and I shouldn’t have to.”

Art stands up, walking over to his desk. “Look, I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this. I’m not cheating on you or anything. I’m just trying to help a friend.”

“Help a friend?” You stand up, unable to keep the tears from falling. “Art, be honest. Are you falling in love with her?”

Art freezes, his face a mix of shock and guilt. “What? No, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me, Art!” You shout, your voice echoing off the walls. “I see the way you look at her. I see how much time you spend with her. You’re leaving me in the dark, and it hurts. I loved you first. I put everything into this relationship, and now it feels like I’m fighting alone.”

Art runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal. I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think what?” you interrupt, your voice rising with desperation. “Didn’t think I’d notice? Didn’t think I’d care that you’re neglecting me for someone else?”

He sighs heavily. “I guess I didn’t. I thought it was just a phase. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of his words. “It’s not just a phase for me. I thought we had something real, something worth fighting for. But now I’m not sure if you ever felt the same way.”

Art looks pained, but there’s an underlying resignation in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say. I never meant to lead you on or make you feel this way.”

“You didn’t just make me feel this way,” you say, your voice breaking. “You made me believe in something that wasn’t real. I need to know if there’s still a chance for us, or if I should just let go.”

Art doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his silence heavy with unspoken words. “I don’t know,” he finally admits. “Maybe we need some time apart. To figure things out.”

The pain in your chest feels like a vice. “Time apart? You mean, you want me to wait around while you sort out your feelings for Tashi?”

Art’s expression softens, but there’s a finality in his voice. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I’m sorry, but maybe we’re just not on the same page.”

You nod slowly, tears streaming down your face. “I guess I’ve been fighting for a relationship that was never as strong as I thought.”

The next day, you return to your dorm after class, exhausted from the emotional confrontation with Art last night. As you approach your door, you spot a small bouquet of flowers resting on the floor. Your heart skips a beat, hope and skepticism washing over you.

You kneel down and pick up the bouquet, noticing the card partially sticking out. With trembling fingers, you pull it free and read the scrawled message:

I never meant to hurt you. I love you, I’m sorry.

Your breath catches in your throat. The words seem so out of place after the intensity of last night’s argument. You stare at the bouquet, the flowers bright and cheery in contrast to the storm of emotion you feel inside. The card is simple, and yet, it stirs something deep within you.

A part of you wants to believe that Art’s apology is genuine, that he’s realized what he’s lost and wants to make things right. Another part of you, however, is wary, remembering the hurt and confusion that led to this point.

You sit down on the floor, holding the bouquet close. You feel a pang of longing for the relationship you once cherished and the man who seemed to be everything you wanted. But the ache from the confrontation still lingers.

Just then, your phone buzzes with a message. It’s Art.

“I know it’s a stupid gesture, but I hope it shows how much I regret everything. Can we talk? I really want to fix things.”

You read the message over and over, the words echoing in your mind. You want to respond, to let him know how much his apology means, but you also need to protect yourself from more heartache.

You rise slowly, clutching the bouquet. After a moment of deliberation, you type out a reply:

“Thank you for the flowers and the apology. I need some time to think about everything.”

You hit send, with relief and sadness filling your chest as you walk into your room and place the bouquet on your desk. The flowers are a beautiful gesture, but they don’t erase the hurt or the distance that has grown between you.

#challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #Spotify

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princessmaybank · 5 months

Note

hi princess, I hope your break is going well <33 this is like super specific but could you do a jj x Routledge!reader with super blonde frizzy hair nd jj doesn’t know she dyes it brown until he walks in on her with a lions mane getting dye ready

No pressure at all for u to get to this, i love ur work so so much and I hope you’re going okay princess <333 thank you

thank you for the request! wasn't sure if you wanted smut in there but that's how all of my Fics end up so I'm assuming you do! I'm sorry this turned so dark if you wanted it fluffier. I have recently started Haunting Adeline 😂🤭🩷

Hair Dye

Pairings: JJ x Routledge!Reader

Warnings: Surprise Kiss, Fingering, Rough!Dark!JJ, Spanking, Panty Ripping, Hair Pulling, Choking, P in V, Creampie, Caught, etc.

Summary: Read the ask^

Author's Note: Wrote this so fast, I hope you like it, sorry it's so late!

"I just don't see the point, dad and I have brown hair, you got blonde hair, you should feel special!" John B says as I walk down the aisle searching for the color I want. "That's exactly the point JB. I feel left out. It's odd, plus people have asked us way too many times if we're dating, even though we have the same face." JB rolled his eyes in defeat as I found the shade of brown I was searching so hard for. I was so excited that I could barely wait until we got home.

"Hey JJ is coming over soon!" I hear JB yell from the kitchen as he puts away some groceries. "I expect nothing less. Your boyfriend basically lives here!" I laugh as I go into the bathroom and read the instructions. Once I think I finally have it down and the parts mixed together, my brother calls me into the kitchen. "I'm gonna start cooking dinner. Is there any way I am going to talk you out of this? Blonde hair takes a long time to come back." He says and almost on cue JJ stumbles in the front door. "And yet yours keeps coming back." I say throwing my thumb over my shoulder. He chuckled at my stupid joke and ruffled my hair, causing it to frizz up even more than it already had.

"Hey there, hot stuff." JJ said with a wink. I roll my eyes before walking to the bathroom. "He was talking to you!" I shout teasing JB about his best friend. "I definitely wasn't but okay. What's with her?" I hear him ask my brother. I put the gloves on and get a towel ready under my neck. "She's going to dye her hair. I kept trying to talk her out of it. Fuck, I forgot something at the store. I'll be back, try not to kill each other." I heard the screen door slam as John B ran out.

I heard loud footsteps coming from the hallway until they reached me. "You're not gonna try to talk me out of it too are you?" I say setting down the bottle of dye. "Not gonna try shit" I breathe out a sigh of relief. "You're not doing it." He demanded. "Who do you think you are?" I ask with a full attitude. "Y/N. You don't need to dye your hair." I shook my head. "I want to!" I whined. JJ went to grab the bottle of hair dye and so did I. Eventually he tore it from me and held it above his head. I wasn't able to reach it and he laughed because he thought he had won. I looked him in the eyes and took his face in my hands, planting a big kiss on him. when his lips moved back and forth with mine, I knew he'd drop his arm any second. And he did. I took the chance and stole my bottle back running to the guest bedroom and trying to make it to that bathroom. I wasn't aware JJ was right behind me until I was pinned against the bathroom door.

"Why must you be a little brat all the time?" He asked. JJ's eyes are dark now. This wasn't a game anymore. He removed the bottle from my hand, I let him take it because I was so stunned by this sudden change. "You're. Not. Dying. It." He said with a low menacing voice. "Jay-" I tried to plead, I don't know why, but he was scaring me. He was also kind of arousing me. I never had these feelings for my brother's best friend, maybe it was just how dark he felt in this moment.

He stared into my eyes before placing his lips to mine once again. It felt different this time, I felt a zing, coursing through my veins. His fingertips were now bruising my hips as he lightly humped me through our clothes. This felt unreal. I peak my eyes open for a moment. Yep. it was still JJ. He was still grabbing me with an intense force and grinding his rock hard cock into me.

My eyes shut again and I just went with it. His right hand moved to unbutton my shorts. When he found his way in, he didn't tease, he only plummeted two fingers into my soaked core. "He won't be gone long, if there's something you want from me..tell me now." He demanded again. My eyes stared into his begging to be fucked but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. "F-fuck me.." I whispered through my breath, unable to think as his fingers moved back and forth. "Speak up." His harsh tone scared me slightly but I said my phrase again, louder so he could hear.

His fingers escaped my opening, causing a whine to spill from my lips. He rolled his eyes before pulling my shorts down. I kicked them to the side before I was roughly turned around and slammed up against the door. A gasp flew out of me unexpectedly followed by another when I felt him slap my ass. I let out loud moans as he continued, taking turns with my cheeks. When they were blood red, he squeezed them in his hands. I hissed from the sensitivity he caused.

He toyed with my panties for a few seconds before he spoke. "You don't need these." He chuckled lightly before I heard a ripping sound. Shock was written all over my face as he tore the rest of the thin fabric off of my body. His fingers found my slick folds and teased them for a moment. I was about to chime in before hearing the sound of a zipper and shorts dropping to the ground. I didn't have enough time to process the noise before I felt his cock slide inside me. He let out a dark groan and quickened his pace, not letting me adjust to his size. He was going so fast and so hard. I was a moaning mess. My head started to fall but he didn't let it get too far. His hand pulled me back by my hair while his other wrapped around my throat. His fingertips squeezed tighter, not giving me much room to work air in or out. "You like that? Like my hand wrapped around your throat while you take my cock?" He asked and all I could do was give a small nod before he pulled my hair again, so now my ear was against his lips. "What would John B say if he walked in on us right now? Think he'd be pissed to see his sister with my cock jammed in her tight pussy?" He teased.

Those words were enough to cause an eruption in me. My orgasm hit me like a freight train and slid down his cock and onto his thighs. His hand left my throat and fell to my hips as I pulled in as much air as possible. He fucked me hard a few more times before his cum leaked inside of me.

The sound of the screen door opening and closing apparently wasn't enough to get JJ's dick out of me. My throat was tired, I couldn't mutter a word and JJ knew that. He rode out his high which made my eyes roll back. It was enough for me to squeeze my thighs together and cum again.

"JJ when I said anything, this is not what I meant!" JB shouted. We never even heard him walk in, but we heard the bedroom door slam. We cooled down and I went into the bathroom to inspect my neck. There were bruises where JJ had a hold of me. "What did he mean by that?" I asked. JJ was a lot brighter now. "Oh he messaged me before you two got home and told me to make you not dye your hair. He said to do anything I have to." He chuckled. "Wasn't planning this.." He said pointing to my neck. "But I'm glad it happened." He shrugged and kissed my forehead. A smile spread onto my face before I laid my head on his chest. He held me in his arms and I promised to never dye my hair.

"Good, I like pullin' on this blonde lion's mane." He giggled before I swatted at his chest.

#outer banks #jj maybank #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow x reader #obx fic #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #smut prompts

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thesilmarillionblog · 3 months

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟸

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4624

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

It was quite the struggle to train with Ben for a week, especially when he took it extremely seriously and pushed you to the very limit. It was not that he hurt you; it was that in the lab you either lost your will to fight or you just got really weak.

There were moments when you stated to Ben that things might get serious about your power, but he chose to ignore you and aggravated the training, which left you worn out. But you were relieved that he could, in his own irritating way, encourage you that your strength was still there.

Ben answered, “No,” right away when you wanted to stop the exercise.

Right now, the entire home was a mess, and the hole you had made in the wall remained.

“I'm tired here, Ben,” you complained as you fell to the ground, gasping for air. You had been there exercising together since the morning, and it was nearly the sun going down. Except when you needed to eat or pee, he rarely gave you a moment's peace of mind. “I mean it. I'm done.”

You opened your hands wide on the ground, and he looked at your body while saying, “You're a supe; you can't just feel exhausted that easily.”

You blushed as you noticed him staring at your soaked entire body and replied, “Give me some break.” There's a good chance that you were both thinking the same thing. “How on earth can you find that much energy? Even for a supe, it's too much.”

Ben stared at you and then took off the shirt he had taken off hours earlier, wiping the sweat from his muscular chest. You grimaced, knowing you probably smelled like trash.

“It's because I am the strongest; I am not just any average Supe.” With the most arrogant way possible, he threw his t-shirt back to the ground and said, “Simply better and more powerful than anyone. But don't worry; we'll return you to the way things were, sweetie. You have my word.”

He gave you a sneaky smirk when he saw you staring at his broad, sweat-damp chest. Ben was waiting for you, literally, from above, all the time you tried to get some rest. His eyes narrowed, and you suspected his head was full of filthy stuff.

You just muttered, “I hope so,” and avoided giving him a glance as you closed your eyes.

He sighed and went down on the floor next to you, crossing his big arms over his head.

“Don't think about it that much. You're going to do even better than you are now. Maybe we should just do those trainings more frequently. What do you say?”

“It’s fine. I don’t have another choice anyway,” you replied, cutting it short while keeping your eyes closed. Even if you felt his intense stare on your face, you didn’t react. “What did the doctor tell you, by the way? The one who supervised Compound V's improvement for decades?”

You remembered that there was a lot of discussion following the news that Ben had killed him at his home. You kind of hoped you could have dealt with that cruel piece of shit on your own, though. He was just a monster with a white robe. He had always made an aggressive attempt to cause damage to you and showed no sympathy or compassion for anyone. You got scared and insecure when you opened your eyes, recalling the physical harm he had inflicted.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Ben angrily exclaimed, his fists clenched over his head. “I should have killed him properly.”

“What did he say, so you blew up?”

“Isn't it obvious? That pussy told me how little supes are in the big picture of science, the future of the supremes, humanity, and some other bullshit. It's certain that Vough paid that cocksucker generously during all those years. He lived in luxury, torturing us, and he didn’t even regret it.”

“Did he tell you what kind of research he did on my body?” You asked as you moved your body to face him.

Ben fell silent for a minute, enraged by what he remembered the doctor had said about you. Nevertheless, his eyes softened as he saw your expression and saw that you were excited to hear what he was about to say and that you were feeling at ease and comfortable next to him. That was all he needed. Ben recognized that if he made a determined attempt to be by your side and touch you in the way he desired, you would push him even further away and that you weren't

ready for physical contact at this time. He therefore forced himself to keep his distance from you and let you do whatever you wanted.

He just turned to face you and stated, “I didn't give him enough time to talk,” straightening his posture and sitting straight up on the floor. “He's just an animal, and he sees supes as rats for research in order to make profit. That's all.”

“When we agreed to live this life as supers, Ben, we already knew that.” You said bitterly, “People in charge always wanted to play with us like we were toys. They used us as they pleased and needed us for their own good. I wanted to leave the company for a number of reasons, one of which was that I was unaware of how serious that whole picture was. What I need to learn is what they succeeded in doing during the decades we were unconscious and at their mercy.”

Ben sighed and got up to get some weed from the nearest table, just after helping you off the floor.

“I was told by that son of a bitch that he examined you to make the future supers flawless. Though I'm not really sure what he meant, it seems to me that Queen Maeve—the woman from Seven—is their new you.”

“Do you think they might have found a way to weaken me? Don't say 'no' right away,” you said in a hurry when he opened his lips to object. “It just doesn't feel right about what's going on and everything.”

Your concerns, which were constantly lurking beneath the surface, took over when you realized that Ben had remained silent. Something was off with you, you two sensed that. Although after your first training day you felt a little stronger, your weakness remained under your skin.

You pulled open a window to let some fresh air in and muttered, “If you hadn't just killed the doctor, we could have learned about it.”

Ben offered you one of the glasses and sighed as if he regretted what he had done, filling the other one with wine. “I didn't intentionally kill him. It simply happened beyond my control. But I would still murder him anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow and sat down, realizing that your tiredness was taking over. “You need to find a way to control it since your nerves are always on edge,” you said. “And also, I need to find someone who can understand all of this.”

Ben sat beside you, stretching his muscles and leaning back into the coach while he listened to you attentively. As you spoke, you noticed that your gaze lingered a little too long on his sweating body, almost making you flush.

He studied your expression to see how you would react to his suggestion. He said, “I guess the best option is to kidnap or torture a doctor who is in charge or fuckever who's doing supe studies for Vought right now. We can use Mindstorm to look at your memories and thoughts to see whether they have hurt you in any way.”

His suggestion caused your eyes to widen with excitement, and you exclaimed, “That's actually a smart idea. But how are we supposed to find him?”

“Remember the new technology, sweetheart. Anything is possible with these phones, Bluetooth, and GPS technology. Remember how I found you very easily?”

You gave a nod to him, knowing that what he stated was right and that you would be able to reach Mindstorm with ease thanks to modern technology.

After you had your shower, you saw Ben watching the TV with a dead serious face, and you sat beside him.

As you used the towel in your hand to dry your damp hair, you inquired, “Is there any news about us? Almost a week has passed.”

“Not much,” he replied as he continued to listen to Homelander talk about the two of you.

‘They pose no threat to the United States,’ Homelander confidently stated, grinning, as he extended his arms and turned to face the screen. 'As Seven, we've been trying to find them for a week, but it looks like they are hiding pretty well,' he continued. I, Homelander, the Seven's leader, swear to you that they shall answer for their actions. It has been proven that Soldier Boy rescued Y/N, and it's very likely that the two of them murdered the hapless doctors as well as every lab employee in cold blood and without hesitation.'

You and Ben exchanged a look as Homelander continued his speech. ‘Their families and children are in agony even though our government gives them the best care they can. These two criminals are responsible for the deaths of the orphans whose parents they killed. It breaks our hearts to see them weeping and grieving the loss of their families. There are even toddlers among them. Soldier Boy and Y/N will be held liable and made to pay for the harm they caused to the United States and its citizens. They have little time to conceal; they cannot get away.’

As the audience gave him a loud applause and he flew opening his arms out like.

Ben angrily said, “Fuck that. Son of a bitch,” and threw the remote control onto the table in front of him. “They were just another piece of shits who enjoyed torturing supes, nothing else.”

“But I didn't kill anyone,” you mumbled. “We are past the point of self-justification. Homelander is basically controlling the crowds. They would never pay to listen to us, Ben.”

Ben stared at the TV and said, “I'll teach them how to listen,” in a menacing manner. “You see? It's no longer about Butcher and his useless group. It has to do with our future.”

You could have argued with him about the future, but all you wanted was to avoid getting into another fight with Ben.

“I think such a guy wouldn't be innocent at all. We might be able to defeat the company if we can figure out how to properly express ourselves, explain to them how Vought tricked us, and show the real Homelander to the rest of the world. There isn't another way.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered.

As you could tell Ben was becoming enraged and feeling overwhelmed, you touched his bare chest, which had a little glow to it. “Hey, are you okay?”

He responded with, “I am,” placing his hand on yours and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Can you please stop getting angry for a second? I can sense the heat building in your chest.” You muttered, “You're stressing me out here,” but you didn't remove your hand from his upper body. You could feel him cooling down beneath your touch once again. It was fine as long as it worked; you simply didn't know why.

“Well,” he said, arching an eyebrow, licking his lips, allowing you to touch him, and gently tracing his fingers over yours. His powerful, slow beats were calming in a way. “It's not too bad. Is it?”

You withdrew your hand from his sweating chest while rolling your eyes at him and making sure he was okay.

Ben had just showered when Butcher and Hughie showed up at the house.

Butcher remarked in a sly manner, “Glad, I delayed for an hour coming here to pick up you two,” as you and Ben got into the back of the car. “We could have interrupted something funny, judging by the all-wet hairs and all.”

“We were just finished training there!” you exclaimed, your face heated.

“It must be very good training, indeed. The entire fucking house was damaged like hell. You two spent a whole week all showering and training while we were dealing with the shit Soldier Boy caused.”

“Sorry for that, but it's not what you think, really.”

“I thought Soldier Boy and Crimson were having a relationship. Yet life goes on, don't they? There are always new, fine chickens and dolls all around.” Butcher smirked at Ben.

You were ready to add something about Ben and you having nothing to do, but Ben became enraged right away when Butcher brought up the Crimson Countess.

“Don't you fucking know how to stay silent and shut your useless mouth?” Butcher was obviously enjoying himself when he suddenly made Ben mad.

“What made you so furious now? Have I said anything untrue?”

Hughie leaned back in his seat and said, “Butcher, stop that,” sounding distressed as Ben continued to swear at them both and told Hughie to make Buther to suck him soon, so his mouth would be filled enough not to talk stupid.

“Why even do you become irate out of nowhere? After all, you murdered the poor woman.”

You looked up at Ben, asking with disbelief, “What? Why did you even kill Countess?”

The fact that Ben never brought it up startled you even more than Butcher's statement, as though it were nothing important. You were stunned and shocked beyond belief. At that point, you were at a loss for what to think. You were not sympathetic to her, though. After all, Vought used her as a cunning evil to harm both you and Ben. She was the one who paid you a visit in order to deceive you that day.

He tried to convince you immediately, giving you a gentle look as if he wanted you to understand what he had done. “She deserved whatever I've done,” he defended himself.

You acknowledged, “I know she did. But why?”

He looked at Butcher and then turned to face you, almost whispering, “Let's discuss this at a later time. All right?”

You found Annie nowhere to be found when you got to Butcher's home, where only Kimiko and Frenchie were inside. Kimiko watched Frenchie play with his phone, seeming bored.

“Why did it take so long for you to come here?” Frenchie inquired in an irritated manner to Butcher. “You give me too much to deal with, though you know I have things to do. Kimiko is also exhausted.”

Butcher sarcastically remarked, “Hello to you too, baby,” as he removed his coat. “I have not even once heard a complaint from her; she is an incredible Supe. She can't possibly be exhausted, right, doll?”

Ben moved you over to the edge of the coach and sat by you, resting his legs on the table, just as you were about to strike up a conversation with Kimiko. You were fine with him being close, though, so you said nothing at all. In fact, if you were honest with yourself enough, you would admit that his behavior around you somewhat comforted you.

“Kimiko and I have spent days looking for Black Noir and Queen Maeve, but we haven't made any progress so far. It's strange that they were absent from everything for so long. You see, something isn't quite right. According to Starlight, they have vanished.”

“The fuck you mean they are missing?” Butcher asked in disbelief.

“Why would Noir would go missing? It's not his thing to disappear,” you said. You thought you were thinking to yourself, but you had said it loud.

“He must have ran away when he saw us back together,” Ben said in am amused tone. “He fucking knows I'm going to kill him too. He’s a fucking dead man.”

You told Ben, “There must be a reason,” ignoring the way he talked about taking Earving's life. Right now, you don't need to see Ben being enraged over Noir and losing his temper again.

“How the fuck doesn't Starlight know where Queen Maeve is?” Butcher questioned Hughie.

Hughie took his head in his hands and responded, “She thinks Homelander did something to her. Maybe he killed Maeve.”

“How about Ninja Cunt, though? He is known as Homelander's right wing. Suppose he murdered Maeve. What about Noir?”

Frenchie remarked, “That's what I'm trying to understand,” and Kimiko communicated with him using sign language swiftly.

“All right, we'll watch out for this and see if he shows up again.” Butcher ended it quickly and continued. “Tomorrow, Soldier Boy and I are heading to New York.”

You eyed Butcher with suspicion, asking, “Why and why not me?”

“You two stayed at a lovely house for a week, for God’s sake. Aren't all of the showers enough? Is it not possible for you to separate for even a single day? Would you really miss this cunt that much?”

As Butcher continued to make assumptions about you and Ben, your face heated. Kimiko and Frenchie turned to face you in harmony, taken aback.

“You're just making the wrong assumptions.” You distanced yourself from Ben and explained, “It's not like that,” acting as though you had been proven guilty. Ben didn't appear to be supportive when you stared at him, yet it seemed as though he was okay with Butcher's comments. “What I want to know is what you're going to be doing here and why I have to stay here.”

“Yes, doll. To catch up with your old friend TNT Twins, we are going to join Herogasm. It's almost like we have to clear your names first. Maybe they know anything about the specifics of those events from decades ago, and they could say something that we could use against Vought. Though things might get messy soon, don't you worry, I'm going to keep an eye on your soldier so that he won't be pouding into any supe cunt there,” he said with a wicked smile.

Ben said, “Maybe we can also find a thing about Mindstorm there,” giving you a meaningful glance and a small touch on the arm before you could respond. You nodded to him.

“However, why must I stay here?”

“Kimiko needs to get some work done, and we need more muscle to help Frenchie and Hughie here. Let's don't take too much attention.”

“Okay,” you said, acknowledging the situation and giving up on further arguments. Herogasm was something you've always detested and loathed. Ben, the founder of it, was making it even worse. Yet the one thing about Ben's inconsistent anger—the energy in his chest—that scared you was his unpredictable temper. You weren't sure if he could find a way to control it soon enough.

You questioned Hughie, “By the way, where is Annie?” As a member of Vought and Seven, you were aware of how difficult it must be to handle the entire company's evil by yourself.

“I don't think she'll find Maeve anytime soon, but she's doing some research in order to locate her. She seemed to have disappeared in a heartbeat.”

You figured she was kind of involved in this too, based on the way they talked about her.

Ben abruptly stood up and stated, “I guess all the rooms are full. So, which room are Y/N and I staying in tonight?”

“Not full,” Hughie smiled in response. “I suppose there are now two available rooms since I will be seeing Annie tonight.”

Kimiko nodded quickly as she gave a smile to you.

Ben's expression darkened as Hughie continued to tell him and Annie that they would not be staying in this house any longer, while Ben quietly cursed. He glanced at you for a moment, but you ignored him and asked Kimiko to show you the room where you would be sleeping.

After an hour of inspecting the room and all of the furniture within, you heard a light knock on the door and knew it was Ben.

After a minute, you said, “Come in,” startled that Ben was holding back, opening the door this time without your permission.

He whispered, “As you wish, baby,” and carefully shut the door behind him.

In the dim light, his hair fell over his forehead, and his white t-shirt made your heart melt just a bit. Under his large arms, his t-shirt was too tight. Perhaps you weren't used to seeing him in his regular clothes, which is why you were still excited when you were around him.

“What now?” you muttered as you sat on the bed and observed him approach you.

He joked, “Don't get excited; I'm just here to make some conversation,” and sat down next to you right away.

You said, almost in a whisper, “Which is about?” while he briefly studied your body.

His darkened eyes lingered on your revealing nightgown, but you remained silent, intensifying the tension in the moment.

Ben's desire to force your body to the covers, get on top of you, take off your sweatpants, and get you ready for some post-breakup fucking was unbearable. He was well aware that you never touched yourself when you were by yourself in the house, and that really disturbed him because he knew that he was the reason for it. Ben could tell by the way you looked at him and by the beating in your heart that your body still yearned for him, but he also understood that he had to rebuild your trust in every way. He had to take care of his meat by hand up until that point.

After sighing and searching for the right words, Ben uttered, “About the thing I told you that we can discuss later.” He made an effort not to speak about Crimson bitch right away. She was the reason your nerves were already fragile. He had no reason to blame you for it.

As he attempted to read how you were feeling, you questioned in a cold voice, “Why did you kill her? Was it unintentional?”

You were curious as to whether he truly intended to murder her or if this was just another unintentional incident similar to the others. You needed to comprehend it, even though you didn't know why it mattered.

After a while, he said, “I blew up,” and when you realized he hadn't done it on purpose to exact vengeance for you, your posture straightened.

Ben said, “I was just trying to get information about you and your location before killing her,” as soon as he saw the look on your face. “I was cautious to do anything until she had spoken about you. But I was unable to control myself when she touched my nerves.”

“Did you kill her just because she was unfaithful?” You questioned him suspiciously, attempting to make sense of his motivations. Ben might tell you the truth or a lie, but you would still listen to him even if you weren't sure he would be completely honest with you. “In the end, it's her who deceived you. Whether Vought commanded her or not is important. She was the one who brought you there so they could capture you and then transport you to Russia.”

After pausing to comprehend what you were asking, Ben responded, “I would kill her anyway because of what she had done to both of us,” as if he had no idea how to answer properly. “Especially to you.”

You said, your eyes softening with sorrow, “I wonder what you would do to me if I were the one to trick you, Ben,” knowing that, after all these years, loyalty was what mattered most to him. “Even if I had every right to do so.”

“I would never hurt you,” he abruptly rejected, emphasizing each word in a hard voice. “I knew I would deserve it anyway.”

“I'm not so sure of that, Ben,” you said. “You're even more dangerous considering I'm getting weaker and you're ready to blow up anytime.”

His smile expanding, he added, “Hey, don't say such things,” took one of your hands, placed it on his warm chest, and whispered, “You have every power over me.”

Under his focused gaze, your face flushed, and after a moment, you reluctantly withdrew your hand.

“So, you're going to Herogasm tomorrow?” you said, attempting to change the topic. “Given how difficult it was to persuade you not to join decades earlier, you must have missed it quite a lot.”

“Are you feeling jeaolus?” he asked with a mischievous smile, and you grimaced.

“Why should I be? I'm just saying you might have missed the chance to join the party that you organized after all this time.”

“I'm not going there to fuck, baby; I'm not interested anymore,” he murmured, retaining an arrogant chuckle. “I'm going to call you when I get there.”

“I'm not sure.” You said to quit talking about Herogasm anymore. “I might be busy to pick up when you call.” Herogasm was the world's dumbest thing, especially since Ben founded it.

“Why may be you even busy, anyway?” This time Ben uttered serious words: “I'll call you nonstop, so keep your phone with you every moment.”

You responded with the same heedlessness, “I might.”

Ben smiled playfully and narrowed his eyes. “Since you too need to take care of yourself, it will actually be good for us to be apart for just a small amount of time.”

You naively asked, “About what?” as though he would make a crucial point.

“You might as well relax on this bed while I'm away because I’m pretty aware of you're not touching yourself, knowing I'd hear you in a second, huh?”

You became the deepest shade of scarlet in your cheeks and murmured, “I can't believe you.”

“I'm not making fun,” he declared with seriousness. “It is also a bodily necessity. You don't have to reject playing with yourself a bit. Being the reason is something that irritates me a lot.”

“I don't feel ashamed of taking care of myself because of you or anything else,” you immediately argued, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. “I have no problem touching myself while you're here. It's not all that important.”

Ben arched an eyebrow at your quick, brave, “If you say so,” followed by a sigh.

“I'm serious here, Ben,” you continued, growing agitated by his haughty demeanor and enormous ego. “I'll prove it.”

He studied your figure and growled in a low voice, “I won't promise that I won't focus on you or listen to the way you sound.”

“Then don't.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much. They keep me going. ♡˚.

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bitchimasnake-sss · 11 months

Text

"have i ever told you i love you?" ft. the monster trio

silly goofy headcannon with my favourite idiots of all time <3 ft. luffy, zoro and sanjiii x GN reader set-up: you've been them for quite a while but the "three magical words" have been off-limits (until today ig?) m.list

luffy:

he was munching on a piece of meat (again) after having successfully begging sanji for forty minutes (and enduring two kicks)

literally, his mouth is full, there's crumbs on his cheek and through it all, he says "hey, have i ever told you i love you?" (with a smile as big as the one in the gif)

you almost choke on air, cause who the fuck asks it like that?

"i mean, no. not really?" your face is hot and you cannot decide if its a blush creeping up your face cause he is telling you he loves you or if its second hand embarrassment because hes admitting he loves you with face stuffed with meat.

atleast he looks cute tho? (take a win where you can lmao)

"huh? i haven't?" his brows are furrowed together, and just for a moment his focus isn't on his food.

"yeah" you sheepishly admit, giving into the warmth spreading across your cheeks

"okay" motherfcker just shrugs.

he's back to munching again. like he just shrugged and went back to eating. like he was asking what day it was and not confessing his love. what a fucking idiot????? how do you love him ur so confused?????

"that's all you have to say?" you're about to commit homicide.

"yeah?" then through a bite, he says "i do love you though."

and nvm, maybe the homicide can wait another day because right now you're busy ignoring the shit-eating grin that spreads across your lips.

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zoro:

mf is drinking (like always)

and obviously, it takes quite a lot to take him down enough for him to say stupid shit

and even on the days he does drink quite a lot, he just falls asleep and wakes up with a shitty hangover and even shittier attitude

but on the days he doesn't fall asleep, well let's say it's a whiplash inducing experience

"hey" gulping down the last of his sake, his speech is as slurred as a swordsman can possibly get. you don't blame him, i mean it's been a rough couple of days after all, maybe he needs the booze to cope.

"mhm?" you're equally under the influence (if not more)

"have i ever told you i love you?"

yeah, that shit straight up sobers you up

"what?"

"have i told you that i love you?" he repeats, without any hesitancy at all.

this stoic bitch (who took 2 business weeks to finally hold your hand in public after you got together) is asking this question, absolutely unfazed.

for a second you wonder if the alcohol is making you hallucinate (can alcohol do that? probably not)

"did the alcohol make you go deaf?" still fucking unfazed.

"...no? you haven't" your voice is shaky, still confused if you're fucking hallucinating

"oh, well then i should let you know." and he gives you a classic, soft smile "i love you."

and then he passes out. he doesn't even bother hearing your reply.

yeah, next day you're furiously blushing every time you think about him and the words he said, meanwhile this stupid human being doesn't even remember. he is giving you weird looks and asking you if you feel okay because your face looks very red. and maybe you should ask chopper for help.

well, i mean atleast you remember what he said.

drunk words are sober thoughts afterall hehe

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sanji:

a fucking gentleman!!!

actually the only one who had made a fucking plan to confess his love to you. he's a romantic dude (he just sucks at execution)

the entire day before, he is a wreck. he cannot hold eye-contact with you for more than two seconds, his food doesn't exactly taste as it always does (why is there salt in place of sugar sanji are you okay??), he is lost in his thoughts and giggling whenever left unsupervised

jesus lawd, this man is whipped

meanwhile you're out here wondering if he is going insane or getting terminally sick. you're not alone cause the entire crew is thinking the same

maybe you guys should ask chopper to take a look at him??

it's evening, the sun is going down and you're standing at the deck, admiring the view

everything seems perfect. then he taps on your shoulder and you turn around to a furiously blushing sanji with his hand behind his back

"sanji?" you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, "are you okay? you have been acting a little weird all day"

"i- uh"

he fumbles for two whole minutes. nami counted (she told you at dinner later).

then after receiving a confused look from you, he finally blabbers it all in like one breath.

"yn ln you have made me the happiest man on earth and if you would please accept this bouquet, i would be grateful. would you please go on a date with me?"

the date was in your room, the room had been cleaned, he had cooked your favourite meal, he had got your favourite flower and although the whole ordeal had started rather awkwardly, you cannot help but feel giddy as he serves you desert

"say yn," he is blushing again, "have i told you i love you"

you snort out the desert.

sanji almost performed heimlich

when you're good again, you say, "no, you haven't actually."

"then you should know, i love you. more than anyone can ever imagine."

yeah you pray to god every night for this magnetic force of a fucking man. you must have been a good person in your last life.

perfect man, husband material, 10/10

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m.list

#one piece #op #opla #monkey d. luffy #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #one piece luffy #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece men #monster trio

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stxrvel · 2 years

Text

the outbreak

summary: your bruised heart and shattered mind have feelings for Bucky and you had planned to tell him very soon, however, the disastrous outcome of the last mission and a heated argument make you think the best option was to keep quiet.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 8k or so

warnings: implicit reference of suicidal thoughts, some suicidal accusations, maybe like get your shit together kind of stuff, a lot of bad words, angst. there's just no happy endings in this account. mentions to explosions. also, there's a plot in the plot? that kinda got there out of nowhere, but i liked the way it turned out. probably do a second part later.

note: hey! i can't believe I actually managed to get one thing done and ready to be published in one day, i think i got lucky. im still working on the next part of how to break a routine in one year but it's been a rough journey, i don't know how it would end up in the end. still hope you like this and know that feedback is really appreciated! really love reading your comments and opinions 💜

1.5, part 2!

You were static all the way back to the Complex. Your ears were still ringing from the vibrations of the bombs that exploded near you and which, by sheer luck, didn't cause your death. You couldn't look up from your clasped hands and you couldn't shake the chagrin in your chest that hadn't left you since you saw the look on Bucky Barnes' face when you were found in the rubble.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Extraction of information, no more than five hours and you would return to the Complex. But it got complicated when you were ambushed, as if they were already expecting an Avengers team to show up in that building and they were ready for anything. You weren't supposed to face anything that day, otherwise you wouldn't have gone on the mission in the first place.

You knew you were always going to be the team's priority when they went on an extraction mission, whether it was information or people. You weren't the most skilled or the most resourceful, so the team had to keep their eyes on you and the mission objective. That in itself felt like a burden, so you always tried to just do your job and not complicate things for the others.

This time, however, you couldn't keep yourself safe, not even despite the orders given to you by the team and the mission leader: Bucky. You were casually perusing the shelves of a room where you knew the information they were looking for, which was vital to knowing the enemy you were dealing with at the moment, was to be found. You were so close to getting it that electricity surged through your limbs and little shots of adrenaline coursed through your body.

But, at that moment, Bucky's voice reached your hearing.

“Y/N, get out of there right now and meet Wanda on the first floor.”

“Hold on a second. I've almost got it.”

“I told you to get out of there right now. It wasn't a goddamn recommendation.”

“Can't you wait a second, Bucky? This is the key to everything and you know it.”

“I don't give a fuck about those documents, Y/N! Get out of there right now!”

And you should have listened to him. You should have listened to him the first time. But you always had this constant need to prove yourself, to make your time count for others and for them to notice that you were worth something. That you weren't a burden on the team. For a while the line of that goal was blurred, you didn't know if you were trying to convince them or yourself. On that occasion, you decided to make the decision to prove your worth and stay to find out what they had spent weeks focusing their time on.

“Fuck,” you heard Bucky curse. “Wanda, can you come in for-?”

The sound of a large explosion caused horrible interference on the team's communicators.

Sadly, until that moment you understood that maybe you should have listened to the team leader. Still, you held your place for a few more seconds until you found your target. But it was too late by the time the building began to shake.

It had taken the team about twenty-five minutes to find you. They didn't even know how you had survived.

“Bucky, what happened in-?”

“I'll give the mission report to Fury later,” the man cut off Steve Rogers' words, walking past him without giving him a glance, and continued on his way straight to the entrance of the Complex.

Steve turned his gaze until his eyes rested on yours. You felt like you had a lot of words stuck in your throat, a lot of overflowing feelings that you couldn't control. You just looked down again and approached him to hand over the mission objective. For which you risked your life almost without thinking. Then you walked straight back to your little room and didn't leave for the rest of the day.

---

Your friendship with Bucky was great. From the moment you joined the group, he was the person you hit it off with the fastest, surprising almost everyone on the team. Even before you got to know Bucky, even though you didn't consider yourself an outgoing person, you would tell him stories about your day and mundane things you did every day. At first you didn't even know if the man was listening to you, you just knew he was there and never left until you were done talking.

The situation wasn't so bad. You were used to talking to yourself since you started living on your own, a couple of years before you joined the team. Sometimes when Bucky came into the kitchen or appeared in the living room, you were already mumbling to yourself about something.

For a while you never knew why he stayed to listen to you.

And months went by like that. Each time you would show up wherever he was or he would show up wherever you were and you would just tell him something. A story from your childhood, a story from your grandparents' lives, a news item from around the world, an extremely strange and bizarre fun fact.

That little interaction was something you quickly got used to.

That is, until outsiders had to dip their spoon in and stick ideas that didn't belong in your head. Ideas you weren't supposed to have or even consider once. You knew it, but you learned it again the hard way.

“Have you seen Bucky today?” you asked Sam Wilson once when you walked into the kitchen.

“No,” the man quickly replied, finishing his coffee.

You pursed your lips and were already on your way back to look for him elsewhere when Sam's voice reached your ears again.

“You hit it off pretty quick with him, huh? I thought he was a tough nut to crack.”

“Don't talk about him as a thing. And it's really not that complicated to get to know him. You just have to make an effort and not push.”

“Roger that, Captain,” Sam smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

Hearing that lit a light bulb in your head.

“And have you seen Steve?”

Sam shook his head as he lowered his mug to rest it on the kitchen counter. “No. They must be together because I haven't seen them since yesterday. Maybe they went out on a mission?”

You nodded at his words, thoughtfully.

“But he didn't tell me he had to leave today…” you mumbled, but it reached Sam's ears.

“Does he usually tell you what he does in the day, too?”

You turned to look at him, distracted.

“Something like that. He only does that when I ask him to go shopping with me.”

“He goes shopping with you? Really?”

“Sure,” you quickly replied focusing all your attention on his surprised face. “It's a dangerous world for women, you know? I can't take chances.”

“Clint goes shopping once a month. You've never ordered from him?”

“No, I like to walk around the supermarkets and look at every single thing on the shelves. Clint is very fast and boring.”

“Ah, so the only person you feel comfortable with at those times is Bucky.”

You shook your head in a nod, completely unaware of what the man was trying to imply with his words.

“Natasha once accompanied me, but because she flashed the knife hidden on her hip at every man who saw us for more than five seconds, she was banned from more than seven venues and the police were almost called.”

“Mmm,” Sam nodded. “Sounds very much in keeping.”

“So yeah, that's why Bucky is my shopping buddy. Steve is very inquisitive, Tony brags every two minutes about how quick and easy he could do the market from the app on his phone, Wanda gets lost in the movie section and I can hardly ever get her out and you just don't shop because you leave it all to Clint.”

“And Bruce?”

“He leaves a list for Clint or asks FRIDAY to take note of every time he says he needs something so she can forward it to Clint.”

“Wow, who knew the Avengers were such bad shopping buddies.”

“Yeah. Bucky just walks with me, reaches for things that are too high and does his own shopping quietly. Or sometimes we chat. About shopping stuff.”

“That's very domestic of him.”

You let out a short laugh, agreeing with his description. It was something you thought about from time to time.

“Bucky is a very domestic person, actually.”

“You seem to know him well.”

“Maybe so. Only from what I can see of him by his actions.”

“He's not very active with you in talks then.”

“Not very much. But if you can get to know him well, it's easy to tell what he means just by his behaviors.”

Sam gave you a nod, his coffee on the counter long forgotten.

Then, as if his mind hadn't processed what he meant, out of his mouth came the last words you would have wanted to hear in the world.

“You two would make a good couple.”

You snapped out of your head for a moment, almost abruptly. You turned to look at him as if he had a magnet that attracted your gaze and you almost pulled a lung out of your chest from how loudly you snorted at those words. That man had lost his mind.

“What?”

“What?” Sam repeated, his brow furrowing without losing the hint of amusement it caused him to see you so flustered for saying something so mundane. “It's no secret to anyone that you're the person he spends the most time with in the entire Complex. You do a lot of things together, including shopping. Like a couple would. You know what? You already act like a couple even if it's not official.”

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh, but I do have an idea. We all have eyes here, Y/N. It's not hard to notice the look in both of our eyes when-”

“All right, that's enough!” you exclaimed, and Sam just shrugged. “I don't want you ever hinting like that again, is that clear?”

And he didn't do it again. But you should have paid more attention when he spoke in the plural. Even though he was the first, he wasn't the only one to express his opinion freely about your friendly relationship with Bucky when you didn't ask for it. It was as if Sam unleashed a horde of unwanted comments about the normal, domestic things you did with Bucky.

It wasn't long before you began to feel uncomfortable when the two of you were in some room in the Complex with some third party who was intruding.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you once you were in the common room of the Complex.

You remembered turning to look at him in bewilderment as you snapped out of your cloud of thoughts. You saw him sitting next to you, a safe distance away. Like two normal friends. You were telling him a story your mother had told you about your grandmother many years ago when you felt a look on your face. You ignored it at first completely because you were too engrossed in your story and felt you didn't care if anyone else came into the room.

But then you met Clint's eyes. And everything went into a tailspin.

“Yeah. All good,” you shook your head trying to play it down, but you underestimated Bucky's knowledge of you. “Why?”

“You were quiet.”

“For less than ten seconds,” you let out a nervous laugh. In that moment you felt like a pressure cooker, your mind moving anxiously like the lid blowing the air out.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Bucky averted his gaze and you turned to look at him to realise that he had focused his attention on the person sitting in one of the far armchairs with a comic book in his hands. He looked so deep in concentration that his presence in the room was barely noticeable.

“Does it bother you that Clint is here?”

“What?” you exclaimed, suddenly a little louder than you should have. “No, of course not, why would it bother me?”

Bucky arched an eyebrow.

“That's what I'm trying to understand.”

His unwavering expression couldn't give you any answer as to what was going through his head. You mentally berated yourself for trying to find out something you didn't want to know, that you shouldn't even be considering.

“Even if it bothered me that Clint was here, why would that be relevant?”

The man next to you raised his eyebrows as if you'd asked the question with the most obvious answer in the world.

“Because you're uncomfortable.”

You frowned.

“Do you care that much that I'm uncomfortable?”

“Yes, because you haven't finished the story. I still don't know what happened to the chicken.”

His words left your mind blank for a few seconds. You didn't know whether to be flattered, because he seemed genuinely interested in what you were telling him, or offended because he seemed to take it only as a method of entertainment. Either way, the important thing was that you had his attention, right?

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You were suddenly annoyed to realise that your thoughts were taking the wrong turn, being fully influenced by the words Sam and the others had let out about your relationship with Bucky. You couldn't allow yourself to drift slowly into a place you didn't want to return to, because you knew well the consequences and side effects. Even though sometimes you felt you were already in that place.

You were fine with the way you were, nothing else mattered. You were fine with the way you were, nothing else mattered. You were fine just with the way you were, nothing else mattered….

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

“You know this is the longest conversation we've ever had?”

Impulsively you changed the topic of conversation. And you knew Bucky had noticed by the way his eyes narrowed and he didn't say anything for a few seconds. You stood in silence, a small staring battle, Bucky trying to make you give in, until he let out an exhausted sigh and averted his gaze.

“It's not the longest conversation.”

“Yes, it is. You talked to me more than five times.”

Bucky let out a short disbelieving laugh, his head jerking in rhythm with the sound coming out of his mouth. You watched him carefully for the duration of the gesture, because it wasn't something that happened very often.

“I'm sure we've had longer conversations.”

“The monosyllables you answer me with at the mall don't count.”

Bucky let out a breath and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was your turn to laugh, genuinely amused. His eyes flickered up to meet yours.

“You give yourself a lot more credit than you should,” you told him after a while, when your laughter had subsided and his expression was more serene.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled. “What happened to the chicken?”

Over time, you learned to manage your awkwardness so that Bucky wouldn't suspect your uncomfortable behaviour and avoid questions you didn't want to answer. Sometimes, you thought you were excellent at hiding what your body wanted to show with its language, and other times you felt that Bucky just didn't bring up the subject to avoid making you even more uncomfortable. But surely he wanted to ask.

So that was the routine you usually had. It wasn't strange for anyone to see you walking around the Complex together or going out together, and it wasn't strange for you to see everyone with knowing smiles as you passed each other.

Even though it was difficult, you felt you coped well. Always ignoring that voice in the back of your head that tried to alert you that something had happened in the feeling system. If you just ignored it, then it was nothing.

Everything was still relatively normal.

Until that damned mission where you decided not to listen to him.

It had been a week since the incident and if Bucky had looked at you at least once when you were in the same place, that was a lot to say.

Sam had tried to ask you several times what had happened on the mission and why Bucky didn't even acknowledge your presence when sometimes you were right next to him, but you were never able to answer him. You didn't want to talk about it when every time you remembered the cold look he'd given you the moment Wanda removed the chunk of concrete that had almost fallen on top of you, only being cushioned by the wall you'd stuck to before it all came crashing down. His light eyes had always felt warm, made you feel welcome to him the moment you wanted to enter, but in that instant his eyes were watching you as if he wanted you to disappear from the face of the earth.

You couldn't bear the memory. Not when you were already used to his presence and his silences; to his short laughs and mumbled answers. Not when you were already starting to feel comfortable with the ideas you were getting in your head despite trying to convince yourself otherwise; that maybe Sam and the others weren't so wrong. That maybe… they might be right.

But they were just that. Ideas. Stupid thoughts that were going around in your head to salve your poor heart.

Ever since you came back from the mission, you knew how unlikely it was that everyone else was right. The only thing they saw between the two of you, that they talked about so much, was your own feelings bouncing off all the walls that Bucky had and that he hadn't dropped at any point like you thought he had. It was only the reflection of your adoration for him in his eyes. There was never really anything about him that gave them to understand that he felt the same way you did about him, it was only the extent of your love that covered him too.

But nothing was ever really reciprocated.

And coming to that conclusion wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be.

Being hopeful wasn't your style. Although you were always cheerful and tried to put your best face to the world, you weren't one to fall easily for the words and actions of others. That's why you kept your relationship with Bucky at bay for so long, because you knew it wasn't possible for him to see you with the love you longed to give him. You were always sure. But then, and you didn't really know how you got to that point, you began to think that, if other people could see it so clearly, then suddenly it might be true. Maybe Bucky could return your feelings and then the world wasn't just black and white.

Wrong.

For a moment you allowed yourself to forget and let your defences down for that little flame of hope, even though you knew you shouldn't have, that you hadn't done it in years for something and it didn't have to be any different this time. You did, and it was a mistake.

“So, what do you say?”

You raised your head to look at Wanda's expectant face. Her raised eyebrows and the way she moved her hands in her lap gave you a hint that she was feeling nervous. She was trying to hide it, but you could also see that she was a little afraid. Her light, barely perceptible voice gave you the feeling that she was afraid of unleashing a storm with her conjectures.

“That it's crazy.”

“It's definitely crazy,” the woman in front of you sighed, her eyes drifting from your figure to her surroundings trying to deal with the weight of the revelations she'd had these past few days.

Your body leaned against the armchair behind you, and you lowered your head until you could look at the book lying on your crossed legs. You looked at the letters and frowned as you tried to understand again what it was all about.

“That could also be just a story.”

“I don't think so,” Wanda mused, then raised her head to look at you. “There's a reason these books are here.”

“Yeah, just like there's a reason for us not to be in here.”

“Then why did you follow me?”

Wanda crossed her arms under her chest, an annoyed expression taking over her face.

“I didn't think you were going to show me something like this,” you admitted, taking the book in your hands and running your eyes over the text and figures once more. “I didn't even think it was possible.”

“I told you my dreams were starting to become more accurate.”

You shook your head in a nod, your mind trying to figure out what that could mean for your friend's future. You knew it was possible that Wanda was doing her best not to see the whole horizon of negative possibilities emerging from that situation, but you were also aware of the weight she must be feeling with all those thoughts running through her head coupled with the likelihood of not having an answer. Your head schemed for a possible solution that might not be welcome.

“Why don't you go talk to Strange?”

Wanda twisted her lips, the reaction you expected.

“I get the impression that the first thing he'd do would be to lock me in his magical dungeon.”

You wanted to contradict her, but it was partly true. You knew Strange to be a man who didn't see nuance in black and white. It was only about good and bad, with no in-between. But you suggested it because he was the only person besides Wanda who knew as much about magic and sorcery as she did, even more thanks to the position he held. His methods were questionable, probably, but the range of his knowledge was something greater than either of you could question.

You closed the book and ran your fingers over the material of its cover, so stiff and dirty that you could barely even try to guess what century it was from.

“Even if what this book says is true, we don't have the original book to confirm it. We don't even know if it exists.”

“The Darkhold is real,” Wanda contradicted you almost immediately, and the certainty in her voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“What, you've seen it in dreams too?”

When Wanda averted her eyes from yours, you had to restrain the urge to hit her over the head with the book you were holding.

“Wanda!”

“I'm sorry!”

You saw her quickly get up from the floor and start walking around the place you had taken over in the library you were in. From the outside, it looked like a small room with a few shelves full of books, but the further you went in, the less it seemed like it would have any end to it. It was one of the largest rooms in the Complex. And, courtesy of Wanda, you now knew that it was the only room with another hidden room that almost ninety-five percent of the Complex staff were barred from entering. You were convinced that only the Director, Maria Hill, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange were allowed in there.

Now, how could Wanda concentrate enough energy to find and open the hidden entrance to that place? A complete mystery to you.

“The Darkhold was the first thing I saw before my dreams started getting weird. It was only a couple of weeks ago.”

“After you dreamt about it, you started having the lucid dreams?”

“Yes, it was very strange,” Wanda shook her head and stopped her feet in front of you, her expression thoughtful as if her mind was conjuring up all her dreams at once. “Sometimes I dream things where I'm sure it's me, that if I looked in a mirror I'd be sure it was me. But other times, I feel like my dream is focused on showing me someone else's memories. Like I'm inside someone else's mind… but that person is me.”

The woman looked at you, her face contracted in confusion and exhaustion.

“Why didn't you tell me this before?”

Wanda sat back down on the floor in front of you, her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her knees. You watched her run her hands over her face repeatedly before answering.

“I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want to worry anyone. At first I had thought this was too crazy for anyone to believe me, but when I came here and found that book I started to fear for myself. I didn't want to get locked up if anyone found out.”

“Don't say that. No one's going to lock you up.”

You threw the book with the stiff cover somewhere on the floor and moved from your spot to approach your friend. You didn't hesitate for a second to wrap her in your arms and squeeze her against your body.

You didn't know how you had gone so many days without noticing the tiredness in her eyes and the dark bags under her eyes. You'd been so wrapped up in your own head that you hadn't even been able to notice when something was eating away at your friend's sanity. Being one of those things… mhm, you know….

“Don't worry. You're not going to go crazy and want to rule the universe. That sounds too surreal.”

“I'd like to know if my dreams are fabrications or visions.”

You turned away from the woman, your brows furrowing at the implication of her words.

“You're not going to become what that book says.”

“But what if…?”

“No, Wanda.”

“What if it's tipping me off?”

“And who's doing it?” you inquired as you sat back on your heels, your gaze focused on your friend's obfuscated expression. “The Darkhold? Some silly alternate version of yourself from another universe? Now that's crazy!”

Wanda turned her head away and her shoulders slumped.

“That would mean my dreams are unexplained. They're just dreams.”

“Maybe that's for the best. Even the multiverse theory hasn't been proven enough for us to conjecture beyond our own reality.”

“Still, isn't it strange?”

“Of course it is. It's just too weird. I just meant that it doesn't mean you're destined to become that bizarre alter ego.”

You saw her press her lips into a line, then nod her head slightly. She didn't really look convinced, and neither were you, to be honest. Of everything she had told you, you couldn't understand half of it, and the other half you could barely believe was true. The magic was a few levels above your understanding of reality and altering it all in a few minutes was proving to be a really complicated job.

Still, seeing her anguished face at the possibility of what her dreams and that book implied, you knew you had to say something to try to calm the thoughts in her head. Even if it was something tiny that couldn't even come close to being true. You couldn't let those evil ideas fill her head and make her think she was some kind of villain when it couldn't be further from the truth.

If that was the future, it wasn't the future of the Wanda in front of you, her gaze lost and her eyes full of fear. Someone who worried like that about what might happen, even if she wasn't completely convinced of it, only thinking of the slightest possibility, couldn't have an ounce of evil in her.

“Maybe you're right-”

“What the fuck are you two doing here?”

You cringed as you heard a new voice join in the room when you hadn't even heard the footsteps of anyone approaching. Least of all from the two people who had just appeared down the same path you and Wanda had come down.

“Uhm…”

Your voice came out shaky, not at the prospect of receiving yet another punishment for being in a forbidden place for the level you were at as an agent, you'd already seen that coming, but because standing next to a very angry Tony Stark was Bucky. And he was staring at you so hard you feared he might punch a hole in your soul.

You felt Wanda's gaze on you. You turned to see her slowly, as if making any sudden movements would upset the bundle of fury in front of you. You could almost see the veins in her forehead pop.

With one glance, you knew that Wanda had no idea that the room had any kind of sensor. Even though it would make sense for it to have one, it would be illogical because it's a door hidden with magic. Normal people wouldn't notice it by looking through matter or something.

Nevertheless, it was magic that was what it was all about. Surely Strange would have some magical failsafe, kind of.

“None of you are going to respond?”

“I believe the situation responds on its own,” Wanda answered him, and Tony's dark eyes settled on her in a matter of seconds.

For a moment you thought his face had faltered, that his expression had slumped, but just as quickly you noticed, just as quickly it was gone.

Then, his gaze wandered across the floor where you stood with a number of books around you, until it settled on the book you had been reading moments before his arrival. You hadn't realised where it had fallen when you threw it when you got up to hug Wanda, but that must have been your lucky day because it was far enough away to make him think that it had only been taken out, but not opened.

Tony moved quickly to take the book in his hands and then gave you a wary look.

“Did you open this?”

As if we were going to say yes.

“No,” you replied quickly, averting your gaze from the frozen man behind Tony.

“Good.”

You watched him tuck the small, stiff book into his jacket before glancing back at the mess of books on the floor.

“Move along. Strange isn't going to be happy.”

The two men moved sideways, clearing the way for you and Wanda to exit the way you came.

Without a second's hesitation, you both got up and started walking in the direction of the exit.

“How the hell did you know where the entrance was?” Tony questioned Wanda once you were all out of the hidden room, and the aforementioned turned around to watch the door slam shut before disappearing.

"I guess I got lucky."

Tony clicked his tongue, but said nothing more. He turned on his heels to begin his walk towards the library exit followed by Bucky who clearly didn't give you a single word other than judging looks.

Wanda nudged you lightly with her body, the previous topic almost completely forgotten, with a half smile on her face. You didn't know if it was good to drop the subject so spontaneously, but you did know that you didn't want her to continue to have those thoughts running through her head.

“You haven't spoken to Bucky?”

“I'm puzzled that the subject is funny to you.”

“I'm not amused,” Wanda tried to rectify, lowering her voice as she saw that the two men in front of her had stopped at the library exit. “But I don't think he's mad at you.”

“Today is your day of the wildest theories I've ever heard, how can he possibly not be mad at me?”

Wanda sighed and watched the back of the aforementioned, who was apparently talking to Steve Rogers.

“You scared us all that day. But Bucky was… terrified. I knew you were alive, and I told him, but he wouldn't believe me until he could see it with his own eyes. He was too scared at the time. And, to be honest, I think that scare made him realise something he doesn't want to accept now. That's probably why he's staying away from you.”

You watched your friend with narrowed eyes, your body turned in her direction.

“Did you get inside his head?”

“Of course not!”

“Because that's wildly accurate, Wanda. How can you conclude something like that just by looking at someone?”

“I've had a week to do it,” the woman waved her hand in the air, downplaying the matter before resuming her walk when the men up ahead finally moved. “And I happen to be very good at reading people's body language.”

“Yeah, right.”

Wanda grunted at your tone of voice.

“I really didn't get inside his head, Y/N. I swore I wouldn't do it again and I'm keeping my word.”

“Alright, let's say I believe you,” you agreed and turned to look at her just as she rolled her eyes at your words. “That's not reason enough to talk to him.”

“And why not?” Wanda raised her voice, quizzical. “I practically gave you the answer.”

“Knowing doesn't make things any easier, woman.”

Wanda let out a whine so loud and exaggerated that several of the people walking past her frowned at her.

“The real answer is to just talk to him. Do you know how many problems are solved a year just by talking?”

You shook your head in denial. “He's avoiding me-”

“And you seem to be okay with that.”

“I'm not.”

“Then why haven't you done anything to change it yet?”

You knew she was right, but to be honest and to no one's surprise, you didn't want to deal with the confrontation and find out that what you always thought and the reason you kept yourself on edge was true. Even though it clearly was. But to have the chance to hear it come from his mouth directly? You were definitely past having that experience. You no longer doubted that his feelings for you were as non-existent as you first thought and that you should never have listened to people's words, giving yourself false hope. You didn't want to face your own mind and the fact that you got into this heart trouble on your own when you had always been so cautious. Weighing the risk of Bucky pushing so far inside your head that you knew the real darkness was reason enough to be a little content with silence.

Talking to him would solve a percentage of the situation, the professional. You would apologise another thousand times for not listening to him during the mission, you would tell him that you would do everything in your power not to react that way again, and that was it. But the other percentage of the situation would not be resolved; the percentage that involves you more than him. Even if you apologise and he accepts your apology, nothing could assure you that things would go back to the way they were before, that you would go back to being attached to each other as you have been since you met.

And that should be good, because you could finally get away from him and get all those feelings off your chest and out of your mind like you should have done in the first place to avoid the eventuality of him suddenly knowing too much about you, but at the same time you didn't want to end something that could have been so good. Even without getting romantic, your friendship with Bucky was one of the things you cherished the most, and you didn't want to make yourself forget it as if it had never happened.

“What is it that scares you?”

“That I was right all along.”

Wanda gave you her reprimanding look and paused to stare at you with that scowl on her face. You inhaled sharply and stopped in front of her, watching her expectantly.

“I'll take Tony,” she blurted out suddenly, not wiping that expression off her face.

“What?”

“I'm taking him and you better hope that when we meet again you have good news.”

“What are you talking about?”

Without answering, Wanda turned her body and walked in the direction of the three men who had stopped once again to talk. Bucky and Tony had their backs to you, but you could see the typical serious expression disappear from Steve's face to give way to surprise the moment Wanda landed in the middle of him and Tony with a big smile.

The woman shared a few words with the stunned blond, before turning to Tony and sending you a fleeting glance over the man's shoulder.

“Don't you think you're keeping Strange waiting too long?”

“How did you know that he-?”

“I didn't. But you already gave me the answer. We'd better go now.”

Following her order, Wanda curled her arm around the arm of a paralyzed Tony and started walking, waving goodbye to the others.

“Bye, Y/N! Don't stand in the middle of the hallway!”

You cringed as the gaze of the people walking past you landed on you, and gritted your teeth as you saw Steve's gaze on you. Without a bit of disguise, Steve ran his gaze over you and then over Bucky and back again as if he was having a short circuit inside his head.

You weren't too far away to notice Bucky's stiff shoulders, and you guessed he was saying goodbye to Steve when the blond turned his gaze to watch him. Seconds later, the black-haired man started to walk the way Wanda had gone with Tony, but Steve stopped him before he took any more steps away from the tense atmosphere.

“Wait,” you heard Steve's voice and flinched as you watched Bucky look down to see the Captain's hand clutch his left arm, then look up and give him a look that you knew would have chilled you from head to toe, but Steve seemed to ignore it as if it was an everyday occurrence. “Actually, since I've got you two in one place, I need to talk to you.”

You watched the blond shake his head pointing to the door next to him then walk in his direction.

You followed them from a distance and closed the door behind you. It was one of the small common rooms around the Complex. You still remembered how surprised you had been when you first arrived to see how many clear work areas they had in that place. Of course, to house and protect the peace of mind of hundreds of workers.

Bucky slumped into one of the green armchairs carelessly and Steve stood on his feet in the middle of the room.

“I spoke to Fury this morning,” the blond began, alternating his gaze between the two of you. “You'll be back on a mission next week.”

You raised your head expecting to see that Steve was referring to Bucky, but no. He was staring at you from his position.

“So soon?”

“What do I have to do with this?”

You and Bucky spoke at the same time, and you couldn't hide the pain that settled in your chest hard as you heard those were the first words you'd heard from him in seven days.

Steve pursed his lips and alternated his gaze again before speaking again.

“Fury agreed to let you go on the mission after a recon team inspects the site in case of possible attacks.”

You nodded slightly. That was a little ugly to hear, too. Just a little.

“You'll go with Clint and Bucky on the mission.”

You were expecting those words to come out of his mouth because there was no other reason to have locked them both in here. What you didn't expect (though you should have) was to see Bucky roll his eyes and drop his head on the back of the couch in the most horrible gesture of disgust and ennui you'd ever seen from him since you'd known him. During this week of being a zero to the left for the aforementioned, you'd noticed that Bucky was very expressive when he wanted someone to realise that they were strongly hated by him.

It wasn't something you wanted to know, really.

“Clint will be the backup so he'll stay inside the Quinjet flying over the structure in case of a possible attack. You and Y/N are going to enter the building and perform the extraction of one person.”

One person? That was new. You could hardly remember the last time you'd had such a mission.

“Why did he pick me?”

“I have no idea, Buck. He just gave me the order to tell you.”

“Who's the person we're supposed to extract?”

“That I don't know,” Steve replied. “Fury was very cautious with the information. Any minute now the report should reach you.”

“And you're busy?” Bucky asked again, his gaze focused solely on the blond standing in front of him.

At the time, you hated what he was doing. You understood that he didn't want to go on that mission with you because he didn't feel comfortable or just didn't want to see you, but it cost him nothing to have a little, just a little compassion enough to not try to get rid of you and that mission right in front of you as if you weren't listening to him.

“Bucky…”

Steve sighed, but the man in front of him didn't soften his expression or make any pretense of taking back his words.

“If you've got a problem with this, you should go talk it over with Fury,” the blond recommended, not answering his question directly, sending him a hard glare before turning to look at you again. “See you later.”

You nodded in his direction and the man quickly left the room.

The silence that followed was deadly.

You watched the man continue to sit in that armchair, his jaw tense, his hands clenched and his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him. He was so still he looked like a statue. It was scary.

You tried to take a tentative step in his direction, but noticing your movement roused him from his trance and he stood up quickly. He let out a sigh and walked out of the room without looking at you.

You felt a kind of courage catch in your throat when you called out to him.

“Bucky.”

“No,” the man replied almost instantly, his body near the door turning violently to stare at you and point his index finger at you. The angry look he gave you made you regret all the decisions in your life that had brought you to that moment. “I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to hear your apology. I don't want anything from you.”

With each word he moved closer to you until you had to start backing away. You were too surprised at how he had exploded just hearing you call out to him. He must have had too much pent up. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to do this at the time.

“If you want to blow off steam, talk to a fucking wall. But don't come near me or try to fix something you broke with your bare hands.”

You felt the air that entered your body freeze your lungs. His piercing eyes and angry expression shattered any willpower you had collected since Steve left the room, but it was the way his voice broke as he was finishing speaking that took the words right out of your mouth.

“You could have simply listened to me and you didn't. That's all. There is nothing you can apologise for because you yourself decided, within your will, that your life mattered nothing compared to the goal of that fucking mission.”

His eyes wouldn't leave yours and you hated the way you felt the prior sting of tears make your vision blurrier each time because you didn't want to miss a single detail of his face. He was so angry, furious, disappointed and... desperate to let you know how you had made him feel.

“And I don't know if you do, but I don't see what excuse is good enough to justify that.”

The thread of tension you felt in the air was choking you and you didn't know what to do to stop the tears from escaping your eyes. You would have expected anything but such an explosion of rage against you. It wasn't normal for Bucky to have such outbursts, and it also seemed that he knew exactly what points to make because you suddenly felt helpless in the way he was exposing his thoughts about you. Which perhaps weren't far from the truth.

“I didn't want to give you an excuse,” you were barely able to reply, at the tense look he was giving you. Your mind was working hard to avoid touching on the subject he was apparently trying to bring up.

“I don't see how that's any better.”

“I just wanted to apologise. I know I was wrong, okay? I think about it every day since we got back and I know I made a mistake. But I didn't throw my life away by just thinking about accomplishing the mission.”

Bucky let out a raw, lazy laugh without a hint of humor. You felt a shiver run through your body and it was unwelcome.

“I bet you didn't even think about the possibility of getting out alive after you heard the first explosion and that didn't matter to you.”

“It wasn't like that!” you replied instantly, raising your voice to match his, your head suddenly panicking.

“You didn't care because you were only thinking about the mission!”

“But how could we come back empty-handed, Bucky!? All that effort and time to be left with nothing!? Wasn't that worse?”

“Of course not! What the fuck makes you think we'd prefer an inconclusive fucking lead on a team member's life?”

“For God's sake, Bucky Barnes!” you roared and turned away from the man, a wave of anger coursing through your body burning away any trace of sadness you might have felt just moments ago. You knew that feeling and it wasn't welcome. You knew this argument wasn't going to end well, but seeing the look on Bucky's face you knew he wasn't just going to walk away if you asked him to.

Even though your mind was focused on avoidance, you tried to prepare yourself for the possibility that you might end up saying things you shouldn't, too.

“And don't give me any fucking shit about how you knew everything was going to be okay because I don't believe you.”

“Well don't believe me,” you exclaimed turning to look at him. “Don't believe anything that comes out of my mouth if that's what you want. That's not going to erase the fact that I do regret not listening to you and risking my life like that.”

“Lies.”

You half-opened your lips, your face contorted in disbelief. It couldn't have been that easy for him…

“I just told you-”

“And less than twenty seconds ago you said how dare I even think about coming back empty-handed, instead of thinking about how I'd come back to tell the rest of the team that you were dead.”

“But I'm not dead.”

Bucky shook his head.

“Now, you're just telling me what I want to hear.”

“No, I'm telling you the truth.”

“You're not telling me anything, Y/N! Are you sorry for what you did? Good for you. But tell me something, would you do it differently if you had another chance?”

“What?”

“If you woke up tomorrow and we were on that mission again, me yelling at you to get out of the building, would you?”

You didn't even have to think twice to know the answer, but saying it out loud was much scarier than just being silent. Silence.

“I thought so.”

Still, even knowing you didn't have the upper hand in that fight, you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

“That doesn't explain anything, Bucky, I don't-”

“Stop lying already. If you really wanted to apologise to me you could have at least had the decency to tell the truth.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, the anger and irritability of your cowardice coming out to take it out on anyone but you. “You're a fucking genius then, aren't you? You know everything.”

“Well, it looks like you're the only one who doesn't.”

“You can't know what was going through my head at the time. You don't know everything!”

“Then fucking tell me: what were you thinking?”

Your mind went blank. And then words. Thoughts. Images. Nothing encouraging, nothing that would help your case. Again, fear came over you and you couldn't respond. You knew you were playing with fire, especially with him. Especially with the man who had learned to see beyond the cheerful, untroubled woman you were always trying to be.

“I was listening to you and I wanted to get out-”

“Then why didn't you?”

You didn't want him to keep pushing because you felt you wouldn't be able to keep running in the opposite direction. The weight of his words was more than the weight of your silence could bear. Silence.

“Now, with what face are you going to tell me you weren't lying?”

I'm sorry.

“This isn't fair.”

“Oh, so you're the one going through an injustice now. Funny.”

Your body felt his words hurt you, and too much, and instinctively your mind and your defence mechanisms leapt to take control of your words, even though you didn't mean to. Even though you knew you shouldn't because someone in that room was right and it wasn't you. Because you couldn't control the way your mind sought to get out and hide from the confrontations that questioned the way you lived. That was why you kept your distance. It was why you had boundaries with Bucky.

Damn the moment when you decided to believe what others said.

“Why does it matter now what happened back then? I'm here now, giving you an apology you don't want to accept just because I wanted to try to save what we had.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows and stood in a state of stupefaction for a few seconds. His eyes twitched and blinked rapidly as if his head didn't believe what he had heard and he mentally replayed it several times.

“What we had? What exactly did we have?”

“A friendship, Bucky! A mutual appreciation. A mutual respect.”

How you dare to talk about respect?

“Having a friendship implies that you worry and care about what the other person feels.”

Bucky watched you expectantly. His furious face gave no room for contradiction and you soon found yourself between a rock and a hard place. This man wasn't going to give up until he got what he wanted, and you didn't know how things would turn out when he did. You didn't speak, waiting for him to continue.

“When you were in that building, did you think about me, besides cursing me a thousand times for not letting you accomplish the mission while I was trying to save your life?”

Silence.

“Did you care, at any point, what would have become of me if you hadn't gotten out of that building?”

“Bucky, but that's not what-”

“Can you just answer…! Answer the fucking question.”

Silence.

“I… there was too much going on in my head at the same time.”

“But you weren't thinking about getting out of there!” he screamed.

“I thought I was a burden!" you screamed back, his hard stare breaking your self-control and you lowered your head. “I thought you always have to take care of me when I go on missions. I thought I don't really contribute anything important to the team. I thought I'd be a failure if I came back empty-handed when I was so close to making it. I thought… I thought nothing else mattered but accomplishing the mission.”

The last you admitted almost with shame. And though you struggled to think otherwise, your own mind accused you of not being strong enough to endure. You had to feel that shame because someone wasn't really supposed to know, not even for the fact that you had just admitted to him that you had crudely lied to him by excusing yourself behind a false apology, but because that was something that wasn't supposed to leave your head. Because they would always leave, they would abandon you, they wouldn't look back twice. And you were expectantly torn to see the moment when that would happen.

Bucky was just watching you. When you looked up to see him, you noticed that his angry expression had softened just a little. His gaze hovered over your figure for a few seconds until he let out a sigh.

“You've got a lot to work on, Y/N.”

And he left the room. You didn't try or think to stop him for a second. The stark truth of what you had said echoed off the walls and came back at you with such force that you feared it would tear you to pieces. But you did nothing about it. You let it come back because you didn't have the strength to move, you didn't have the strength to do more.

When you let your knees give way under the weight of your body, you curled up next to the couch and cried. You cried as if having said that to Bucky, finally getting those thoughts you tried every day to suppress out, had activated a little reason in your mind. As if, suddenly, you could no longer pretend that everything was all right and try to hide things behind a smile and a story.

You couldn't live your whole life believing that you could live behind a charade, after all.

#bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james barnes #winter soldier #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers #marvel #the outbreak

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wholoveseggs · 7 months

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hello gorgeous! i got another idea! How about reader going through a divorce where the husband is really an arrogant asshole, permanently making fun of her etc. And then she meets Elijah, and they start getting close and he helps her gain her confidence back and shows her how she should be treated. And maybe a few months later, after the divorce, she meets the ex-husband somewhere again and he tries to humiliate her again but Elijah is there and he puts him in his place. Smut is very much welcomed. 🫶🏻

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I hate Antoinette, but they were hot together

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your marriage causes you to feel trapped and worthless. Until you meet a handsome stranger at a café and he shows you how much more you can be.

♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag, I hope you enjoy it! ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angsty, smutty, reader has low self-esteem, husband is verbally & financially abusive, cheating, car sex, Elijah being a bit of a rascal.

When you first got together with John, he was just so charming and you couldn't help but fall for him. It was hard to say no to him, and you were in a haze of love for a long time. He was such an extrovert, loud and funny, and you felt like you couldn't live without him.

But over the course of your marriage things started to change, his mask slipping and showing the real John underneath. At first it was just a comment here and there, you told yourself he was just having a bad day, but then it just kept getting worse.

The day you stopped loving him, was the day he had a bad day at work and decided to take it out on you. You cooked his favorite dinner, trying to make him feel better, and when he came home, he told you to order takeout instead. You were in the middle of making it, so you just told him it would be done soon, and tried to ignore him.

He took the food and threw it in the sink, and started yelling. You were so stunned, you just stood there and let him. He said the most terrible things, telling you how worthless and pathetic you were, that no one would ever want you if they knew you were like this.

A part of you started to believe him, because no matter how hard you tried to be a good wife, you just weren't. John was so kind and charming to everyone else, so it clearly had to be your fault.

You slowly stopped talking to your friends and family, you were probably annoying them anyways.

John eventually cheated on you, and then you found out he was cheating with multiple women. He would disappear for days at a time, off with someone else. You didn't even care, you didn't love him anymore.

Abuse is insidious like that, you become numb to it all, your brain normalizes it to help you cope, until you don't realize that you are being abused. Until you think it's your fault...

You woke to the sound of yelling, your usual alarm clock these days. John was a loud and obnoxious man, and he had no problem screaming at you whenever the mood struck him.

Today's argument was over you sleeping in. You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer, and John couldn't stand to wait another moment. So he went ahead and had to make his own breakfast, and then came upstairs to berate you.

"You really are a lazy slob! I bet you didn't do any of the laundry either. Get up and clean the house!"

You slowly got out of bed, lately your coping mechanism was ignoring him. If you didn't say anything perhaps he wouldn't yell at you. It wasn't a great coping mechanism, but it was the only thing keeping you sane.

"Are you fucking stupid? Answer me!" John yelled as you walked into the bathroom, closing the door in his face.

That didn't stop him, he yelled through the door, and you turned on the shower. Perhaps you would stand there for an hour, just to piss him off.

Just when you started to relax under the warm water he started banging on the door.

"You've been in there too long, wasting the water I pay for. Get out!"

You didn't have a job, because John told you he would take care of you. You were young and naive, you learned the hard way that being financially beholden to any man was a bad idea.

You finally turned off the shower and dried off. You put on a baggy shirt and sweats, and opened the door. He was gone, probably downstairs watching tv.

You got dressed and headed to your craft room, you spent a lot of time in there. You enjoyed painting intricate scenes on canvases, it was the only thing that gave you joy anymore.

When you painted, your mind would go completely blank, and you would lose yourself in the art. Sometimes you would paint for hours and not even notice.

You put on some music and started working on a landscape. You didn't realize how much time passed until the door opened.

John must of had a day off work because he was still home, he usually left by this time. He stood there and watched you for a moment.

"I'm bored and hungry. Make me lunch."

"I'm not your maid. Make it yourself," you mumbled, not taking your eyes off the canvas.

"Why the fuck do you even waste your time with that? Do you think anyone cares about your mediocre shit?" He snapped.

He's right, no one would care about your paintings, even if you shared them. You weren't that talented, it was purely a form of escape. But a small part of you dreamed of being able to sell your artwork and live off the income.

You set down your paintbrush and sighed.

"I don't do it to show off, I do it because I enjoy it. It calms my mind and makes me happy," you answered.

He laughed, a cruel and mocking sound. He had no appreciation for art or culture, he only cared about money and power. He stepped forward and ripped the canvas off the easel, and started tearing it to pieces.

"How's that for making you happy? Do you still want to paint? Be a famous artist? Real Picasso you are!" He sneered, laughing at his own joke.

You didn't want him to see you cry, so you just got up, grabbed your things and walked out of the house. You felt so weak, such a pushover, unable to defend yourself against his cruelty. A little voice in your head told you that you deserved it, no one knew you better than John, so if he said you were worthless and pathetic, then you must be.

There was a cafe near your house, you always went there when John was being too much for you to handle. It was a cute little spot that doubled as a vintage book store. Dark wooden bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling, plants in every corner and a cozy seating area with large comfortable couches and chairs. It also displayed paintings from local artists on its walls, you enjoyed the ambiance of the place, it made you feel at peace. You would buy a coffee and sit in there for hours reading.

You had seen the same man there a couple times, and his striking appearance caught your eye. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his brown eyes piercing, and his strong jawline was covered in stubble. There was something about him that drew you in, but you were far too shy to ever approach him. What would you even say to a man like that? Hey, I think you a stupidity beautiful? Is the book you're reading good? What do you do for fun? It all sounded so pathetic in your head, so you stayed away.

You noticed that he was always nice and polite to the waitresses and he tipped generously. You wondered if he was like John, that it was all just a facade and that he was secretly cruel underneath his mask of civility. But his face was always soft, his voice gentle, and the way he held the door open for other people gave you hope that he was a genuinely nice man.

You would never see him in anything other than a three piece suit, which was unusual for this neighborhood. His dark blue, or sometimes black suits, fit him so well and complemented his skin tone. He wore crisp white shirts and you could tell he was muscular underneath, not bulky, but lean.

You would sip on your coffee, reading, and stealing glances of him out of the corner of your eye. It was probably pathetic, but the way he looked and carried himself made you feel good, so you let yourself.

One day as you were reading your book, you noticed him reading the same book. Perhaps it was the extra espresso shot you added to your coffee or the fact that it was the first sunny day in weeks, but you found the courage to get up and introduce yourself.

"Hey, uh, I see you have excellent taste in books," you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when he made eye contact. You fought the urge to run away, his gaze was intense, but not harsh.

"It seems you do as well," he returned the smile, his voice was like velvet. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, join me."

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you sat down, trying your best to maintain eye contact and not blush.

"What made you choose this particular book?" He asked, gesturing at it.

"Honestly, the cover. The art style is really appealing," you told him, blushing a bit. The way he was looking at you made your breath catch in your throat.

"Interesting, I thought the same thing." He chuckled, closing his book and holding out his hand. "I'm Elijah, by the way."

"Y/N," you introduced yourself, taking his hand and shaking it.

"What do you think of it?" He asked, leaning back in his armchair, your gaze lingered on his arms as he crossed them.

"What?" You said, feeling your cheeks heating up. Why did you have to be so stupid all the time?

"The book, what do you think of the book?" He chuckled, tilting his head and smiling.

You talked about the book, the writing, the characters, and how you thought it was going to end. You ended up talking for hours, he was easy to talk to. You found yourself getting more and more relaxed around him.

Elijah had this aura about him, an air of confidence that was oddly comforting. He was polite and charming, with only a hint of a mysterious accent that intrigued you.

"I can't believe we've been sitting here for so long," you laughed. "I didn't mean to keep you, I'm sure you have other places to be."

"No, I have nowhere I need to be, I'm enjoying your company," he said softly. You noticed his gaze lingered on your lips.

You glanced down at your watch and saw that it was nearly 11pm. "Wow, I should go, my husband is probably wondering where I am." You got up and dug around in your purse to pay the bill.

"I would love to see you again," Elijah said as you pulled out your wallet. "Here, let me." He pulled out his own wallet and handed the waitress some cash.

A giddy, almost school girlish, smile spread across your face. "Oh, okay. Thank you, that would be great." You stuttered a bit, blushing and putting your wallet away.

"Have a lovely night," he said softly, getting up and kissing the back of your hand.

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn't wipe the silly grin off of your face as you left. You hadn't felt this feeling in so long, and the thought of seeing him again filled you with joy.

The next few weeks felt like a dream, every day you would go to the cafe and read. You would sit in Elijah's section, and after a while he would show up and sit across from you, drinking his coffee.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said the first time. "I just enjoy your company."

"You're not interrupting," you blushed, putting your book down. "I enjoy your company as well."

As time went on, the conversations got more and more personal. He asked about your job, your life, and your husband. You didn't want to talk about John, it was hard to admit you had been in a bad marriage for so long. You told him a little, about how you both fell out of love, and were basically roommates.

Elijah would listen intently, and would always ask the right questions. He was very good at drawing information out of you. But whenever he got too close to the truth you would change the subject.

It was obvious that he was a good listener and had a kind heart. You wondered why he bothered with you, a nobody, when he was clearly such a sophisticated man. He could have anyone, and yet he was sitting with you.

One day he brought you a gift, it was a tiny ornamental bird, painted a beautiful shade of green. It was just like the one in the first book you both read, and you had told him how much you liked it. You were speechless, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You decided to make him a gift, and spent all day working on it. It was a bookmark with an image of a forest painted on it. You used a mix of acrylic and watercolor, the greens and browns blending together.

John walked in on you finishing up, and sneered at your painting. "Are you trying to impress somebody with that? No one's gonna want that ugly thing." He said, scoffing.

Your heart sank and you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was right, who would want it? It was nothing special.

You were going to give it to Elijah anyways, but you kept second guessing yourself. He wouldn't want it, it was a stupid idea.

He came into the cafe a little later that day, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. Your stomach twisted into knots, and you felt your palms starting to sweat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound normal. "How are you today?"

"I'm well, how are you?" He replied, sitting across from you.

"I'm good, thank you," you nodded. You decided it was now or never. "So, I made this for you," you blurted out, holding out the bookmark. Your face was hot, and you wished you could hide under the table.

Elijah's face lit up, and he gave a wide crooked smile. "This is wonderful, thank you," he said.

You watched as he picked it up, admiring the artwork. He traced the pattern of trees with his finger and he seemed completely enamored with it.

"You are very talented, do you sell these?," he asked. He looked up and saw the expression on your face.

“Oh god no, I don't know about that, I mean, I just do it for fun, and..."

You were interrupted by your phone ringing, it was John.

"Sorry, one moment," you said, answering the call.

"Where the hell are you? It's past 8pm, and I'm starving, come home and cook dinner," he growled.

You felt your cheeks heat up under Elijah's gaze, shame and embarrassment washed over you.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I'll be right home," you whispered, you felt so small.

"Hurry up, lazy ass," John snapped before hanging up.

You put your phone away, and forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, I forgot my husband was cooking dinner," you lied.

Elijah nodded, his brow furrowing a bit. "Alright, have a lovely night," he said.

"You too," you mumbled as you quickly grabbed your things and left.

You cried all the way home, feeling like a such a loser, a complete failure. Why couldn't you have someone like Elijah in your life? Someone who listened, someone who cared, someone who didn't berate you every second of the day.

You wondered what Elijah thought of you, did he see you as pathetic and weak? A fool that let her husband walk all over her?

It didn't matter, he was so out of your league, you were just a stupid, fat nobody. He would never want you, no one would.

When you showed up to the cafe the next day you noticed a fancy sports car with tinted windows parked out front. It looked very out of place on your street, the only people around who had cars like that were old rich people, and the occasional drug dealer.

Before you reached the door you heard your name being called, and turned around. You saw Elijah waving at you from the driver's seat of the car.

You approached the passenger seat window, and he smiled, beckoning you to get in. You sat down and he handed you a cup of coffee, you smiled at the gesture, he knew your order.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

"I want to show you something," he said, pulling on to the street.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's a surprise," he said, smirking.

You had no idea where he was taking you, but you didn't mind. You were excited to spend some more time with him.

When he pulled up to the local community centre you were very confused. You couldn't imagine why Elijah wanted to bring you here, maybe it was part of the surprise.

You both got out of the car and entered the building. Inside there was a craft show going on, local artists had set up tables displaying their wares.

His thoughtfulness touched you deeply, he had taken the time to bring you here because he knew you loved art.

The next couple hours were spent perusing the aisles and admiring the paintings, sculptures and crafts. Elijah seemed to have an interest in all of it, asking lots of questions and complimenting the artists. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, it's something you admired about him.

"You could get a booth here, sell your art if you wanted," he suggested.

"Oh, I don't know about that, this is just a hobby," you said, brushing off his idea.

"Why not?" He pressed.

"I...well, no one would want my stuff, I mean, they're just little paintings," you sighed

"I would, I think you're very talented," he said softly.

Your heart swelled at his words.

"Thanks," you smiled.

After the craft show, he drove you home, you made him park at the end of the street. You knew how jealous John could get, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see you getting dropped off by a handsome stranger.

"Thank you, Elijah, this was fun," you said.

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied.

"You can't tell anyone about this, I mean, if John finds out, he'll..." You trailed off, feeling stupid.

"He will what?" Elijah's eyes were full of concern.

"Oh, he just, gets jealous easily," you said, fumbling over your words.

"Are you not allowed to have friends?" His brow furrowed, and his eyes hardened a bit.

"No, I mean, I can have friends, I'm just not, uh, supposed to have guy friends," you admitted.

"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship," Elijah said, his voice sounding slightly deeper than usual. "How about business partners?"

"What?" You were confused.

"If I could help you with your art career, get you a booth at the craft fair, promote your work, would that be allowed?"

"Uh, I guess so," you said.

"Excellent, let's meet tomorrow, discuss what needs to be done," he smiled.

"Okay," you smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your body.

When you got home you decided not to tell John, the last thing you wanted was an argument. Maybe if you were successful and sold a lot, then he would be happy for you, but that was just wishful thinking.

You and Elijah had been meeting up once a week for two months, discussing your art, and ways to improve your sales. He was an expert at marketing, and had already gotten you some commissions.

It was nice to have something else to focus on, instead of constantly being reminded that you were a failure. And for the first time in your life you were making your own money, it felt good.

You started to feel more confident in yourself, Elijah was always saying how talented and special you were, and it was beginning to stick.

Today was the craft fair, and you were nervous, what if no one bought anything? What if they all hated it and thought it was ugly?

Elijah pulled up in his fancy car, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. You both had gotten so much closer in the last couple months, and he had become your best friend. He was the only person in your life that made you feel like you mattered.

Your feelings for him were beyond friendship, but you couldn't risk losing him. It was better to have him as a friend, than nothing at all.

The craft fair was going well, you had already sold two pieces, and were chatting with some customers.

"Oh my goodness, this is gorgeous," one of the customers, an older woman, exclaimed.

"Thank you," you beamed.

"How long have you and your husband been selling these?" She asked, gesturing to you and Elijah.

"Oh, uh, we're not married," you blushed.

"Sorry, I just assumed, your ring..." she trailed off.

You glanced down at your hand and saw your wedding band, the simple gold band John had given you so many years ago.

"I am married, just not to him, we are just business partners," you smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, my mistake," the woman said, returning your smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"It's okay," you blushed, trying to busy yourself by wrapping the painting she had purchased.

"You'd make a lovely couple," the woman said, handing you her credit card.

Your face burned, and your palms began to sweat. You had tried your best to not think of him that way, it wasn't fair to him, or to John. But the thought was always in the back of your mind.

"Thank you, have a nice day," you managed, handing her the wrapped painting.

"You too dear," she said, winking.

You sold out quickly, and decided to celebrate with a drink at a nearby bar.

"I'm very proud of you," Elijah smiled. "You have a natural gift."

"Thanks," you said, feeling yourself blush.

He leaned in close and took your hand, tracing your wedding band. "This doesn't suit you," he said.

"Excuse me?" You squeaked, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering madly.

He ignored your reaction and just grinned, his fingers intertwining with yours. You stared at your hands, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He said, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Sure," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him.

"Why didn't John show up to support you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Your heart sank. You had purposefully not told John, not wanting to hear him complain about it, or belittle you.

"Well, um, I didn't really invite him," you confessed.

"Why not?"

"Because, I knew he wouldn't care," you sighed. "And I don't want him to know I'm earning my own money,"

"Because you plan on leaving him." It wasn't a question.

"Y-yeah, eventually," you stammered.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand. "Good, you deserve better," he murmured, his lips still grazing your skin.

You didn't know what to say, your head was spinning and you felt hot all over.

"You never talk about him, but I can tell you are unhappy," he said, sitting back.

"It's complicated," you whispered.

"You can talk to me," he said.

You paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. You had never talked to anyone about your feelings for John, it was too difficult.

"Well, we used to be happy, when we first got married, but now he's not the same," you said, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

"How so?"

"He's controlling and possessive, and he yells a lot. He doesn't love me anymore, and I'm not sure he ever did," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "He cheats on me regularly and controls the finances. Selling my art is the first opportunity I've had to earn money of my own, and I'm terrified of what he'll do if he finds out."

You felt yourself begin to cry, and tried to wipe the tears away, ashamed that your life had turned out this way.

"You hold all of this pain inside, it's not healthy," Elijah said, his face was unreadable.

"I know," you sobbed. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying, it's so stupid."

"It's not stupid, you're not stupid," he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

You looked into his eyes, his face full of concern. He cared about you, and it was a relief to finally have someone to confide in. You feared that Elijah would reject you, see you as pathetic, but he didn't. He stayed by your side, listening and offering comfort.

"If you ever decide to leave him, you are more than welcome to stay with me," he said.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my friend," he smiled.

You threw your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you," you mumbled.

He froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You inhaled his scent, a mixture of cologne and whiskey. He was solid and warm, and you felt safe in his embrace.

"Thank you, for everything," you repeated, beginning to pull away, but he held you in place.

You felt something stir deep inside, something primal and raw. The heat from his body, the way his strong arms felt around you, and the closeness of his face was overwhelming.

He kissed your cheek as you pulled back, and his lips lingered there for a moment. Your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you could feel the warmth from his breath.

You sat back and looked at him, his eyes were dark and full of desire, your fingers intertwined with his. The air was thick with tension, and the electricity between the two of you was undeniable.

"I should get home," you said softly, not really wanting to leave.

"Of course," he said, his voice was deep and raspy, his grip on your hand tightening.

You paid the bill, and walked out to the parking lot. Elijah stood close beside you, and his hand brushed yours a few times as you walked to his car.

Before you could open the passenger side door you felt his hands on your hips. He spun you around and pressed you against the car, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. You gasped as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your arms snaked around his neck, and your fingers ran through his hair. His hands slid down your hips and grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

His kiss was passionate and needy, and he moaned softly into your mouth. The sound sent a wave of heat through your body, and you felt your panties getting wet.

After a few moments, he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, both of you panting.

"Right, okay," he said, his breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you breathed, not really sure what to say.

He pulled away and went to open the passenger door for you, but you stopped him. You felt bold and daring, and the alcohol gave you a confidence boost. You motioned to the back door, and he smirked, pushing you up against the car and kissing you again before opening the door.

You climbed in and he followed, his hands grabbing your waist as his lips found yours again. You moaned into the kiss, the heat between your legs intensifying.

The windows fogged up as you undressed, you were grateful for the tinted windows. You moved onto his lap in just your bra and panties, running your fingers through his hair. He kissed your neck and whispered your name.

"We shouldn't do this," you murmured, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

"I know," he replied, his lips brushing against your ear.

Elijah placed feather-light kisses down your throat, his hands running up and down your back.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice thick with desire

"No," you breathed, clutching him tightly.

He reached around your waist and unclasped your bra, gently removing it and tossing it into the front seat. He ran his tongue across your breasts, circling each nipple before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands running up and down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

You blushed, your heated skin flush against his, feeling his hard cock between your legs.

"So are you," you breathed, kissing his neck and grinding against him.

Elijah groaned, his hand coming down to grip your hip and help guide your movements. You were so turned on, it had been so long since you had sex, and John was never a generous lover. You wanted Elijah so badly, you felt like you were going to combust.

His lips found yours, and you kissed him with everything you had. The heat between the two of you turning into a raging fire.

Suddenly the moment was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You both tried to ignore it, but it just rang again, and again, and again.

You broke the kiss and grabbed your phone, seeing it was your husband calling. "Fuck," you cursed, and you answered it.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?!" He demanded.

"I've been busy," you replied. Elijah began kissing your neck again, a smirk on his lips as he listened. You suppressed a moan as he began to guide your hips, helping you grind against his hard cock.

"Busy doing what?! Who are you with?!" John shouted.

"I'm just with some friends, don't worry about it," you gasped.

"You don't have any friends," he spat.

"I do," you insisted, trying not to moan as Elijah's hand dipped into your panties.

"What are their names?" John questioned angrily.

"Elijah," you moaned as his thumb brushed your clit.

"The fuck!" John yelled, going completely into a rage. The kind that always frightened you, he always had a short temper.

Elijah could see the fear on your face and took the phone from you, tucking it under his neck as he continued to pleasure you.

"John, is it?" He asked, his voice cool and calm. "This is Elijah, I'm going to need you to calm down, you are scaring your wife," he said.

"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, don't think I won't track you down and fucking kill you," John spat, his anger reaching a boiling point.

Elijah chuckled, slipping a finger inside you and making you moan, you quickly covered your mouth, but Elijah moved your hand away and gave you a wicked grin, still speaking into the phone.

"That's a little violent, don't you think?" He murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Besides, I'd love to see you try," he smirked.

John went silent, you could hear his ragged breathing.

"Why do you pretend like you care John? She told me you fuck other people, I mean, who would blame her for finding a real man?" Elijah goaded.

You were shocked by his words, but couldn't deny how hot it was, or how aroused they were making you.

"Listen here motherfucker," John snarled, "she's mine, and I will not allow her to be touched by anyone el-"

Elijah hung up the call and discarded your phone, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you.

"Now, where were we?" He asked, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

"I can't believe that just happened," you said, panting as his lips trailed down your neck.

"You don't need to worry about him anymore," he growled. "You are mine now."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at his possessiveness. But a part of you liked it, it made you feel desired, wanted.

"And I am yours," he added, his lips finding yours again, a deep and passionate kiss.

It started to rain, you could hear the droplets hitting the roof of the car. Making everything seem more intimate, as if it were just the two of you in the entire world.

You reached down and fumbled with the zipper of his pants, he lifted his hips and helped you get them down, his cock springing free. You wrapped a hand around it and began stroking him, his moans sending a thrill through your body.

"You don't ever have to go back to him," he whispered.

"I won't," you promised, your lips finding his once more.

He guided your hips, his cock teasing your entrance, and then you slowly eased down into him. He felt so good, a rush of pleasure coursed through your body. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking against him.

The fire between you grew, the windows completely fogged up now. Your skin slick with sweat as you rode him slowly. Foreheads pressed together, you moved in perfect unison, a steady rhythm of passion.

You knew this would change everything, and that things were about to get very complicated. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All you cared about was being with Elijah, the only man who had ever made you feel loved and worthy.

John had taken everything from you, and had made your life miserable for the last ten years. You were trapped and made to feel it was what you deserved. But not anymore.

Elijah had shown you that you were worth more, that you deserved to be loved and cherished. He gave you the tools you needed to leave John, and the strength to do it. You would have never left him without Elijah.

And as you looked into his eyes, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you knew this was right, what love was supposed to feel like. You could see the emotions reflected in his eyes, the intensity of his feelings for you, the same intensity you felt.

You felt his muscles tense and knew he was close, his cock swelling inside you. You moved faster, chasing your own orgasm, wanting to come together. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, and when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was intense, and he came with you.

The sounds of your moans and heavy breathing filled the car, the rain pattering against the windows. You clung to each other, hearts racing, trying to catch your breath.

As the high slowly faded, you both started laughing, giddy and sated. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he returned it, a smile playing at his mouth.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," you replied, kissing him again.

He held you tight, his lips finding yours in the darkness. You were finally free, and the world was yours for the taking.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

Love (Both of) You More

Part 2 of Love (Both of) You

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x pregnant!fem!reader

Summary: You grow closer to Deacon throughout your pregnancy and learn that you aren't the only one who loves him. (This picks up about a month after Part 1 and covers the rest of the pregnancy and birth!)

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, vague threat from r's ex-husband, protective Luca and Deacon, labor and birth, more fluff, Deacon sings Sinatra

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on the first part! I really enjoyed writing this! An extra special thanks to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for the amazing ideas and for being so kind!!🫶🏼

Living with Deacon Kay for a month has changed your perspective on a lot of things. Your life changed in an hour, in the moments between when your now ex-husband kicked you out and when you found solace and comfort in Deacon’s arms. Now, everything is different and infinitely better, even if you’re pregnant and suffer daily from dizziness and nausea. The moment Deacon wraps you in his arms, it doesn’t seem to matter.

“What are you thinking?” Deacon inquires softly.

“Are you sure?” you ask Deacon.

He chuckles and his arms shake around your shoulders. “Of course.”

You look down at your growing bump and frown. “You wouldn’t prefer to wait four months?”

Deacon moves his hand to your chin and directs your face toward his. “No, I would not. Whatever you are thinking, it’s not true. You’re pregnant, but you’re still you. Still beautiful.”

You nod slowly against Deacon’s hand, and his eyes soften as your smile grows. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Deacon replies happily. “I asked if you would be my girlfr-“

You lay your hand over Deacon’s mouth and say, “Just because I already live here doesn’t mean we can jump to that.”

Deacon gently pulls your wrist away from his face, but not before he kisses your fingers. “Whatever you want.”

“I want to say yes,” you whisper.

“I can wait. For both of you.”

When your phone rings after Deacon leaves for work, your vision is blurry from dizziness. Despite not knowing who is calling, you answer and say your name.

“Good morning,” your realtor greets. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“They didn’t accept my offer?” you guess, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’m sorry. I did find another house in the neighbourhood; it just hit the market and it’s got everything you want.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll, uh… Can you send me the listing and I’ll get back to you?”

“Of course. Have a good one.”

You hang up and drop your head into your hands. The dizziness hasn’t passed, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths before the stress of the bad news can make you feel any worse. As your stomach begins to churn, you reach for your phone again. Before you can find Deacon’s contact in your favorites list, his front door opens.

“Deac,” you whimper as he returns.

“You’re okay,” he assures softly.

He walks to the couch and kneels beside you. The moment his hands meet your arms, you relax.

“What happened?” Deacon asks.

“I was really dizzy, and then the realtor called…”

“You didn’t get the house?”

You shake your head, and Deacon shifts to pull you into his arms. With your face pressed to his shoulder, your breaths grow more regular, and your dizziness begins to fade.

“Listen,” Deacon requests. “I know that it’s hard, that you are dealing with everything and holding it together for this little guy… Would you maybe want to stay here? Just until the baby is born and then you can get a house without having to worry about this. The stress isn’t good for you, but I want you here. Being by your side is- it’s the best place I’ve ever been.”

You nod against Deacon’s shoulder. His arms wrap tighter around you, and you suddenly remember he is supposed to be at work.

“Why’d you come back?” you ask.

“Would you believe me if I said I felt like I should?” When you shake your head and smile, Deacon amends, “I forgot my coffee and can’t live without it.”

You laugh and lean back. With the room to leave, Deacon leans closer to you and lays his hand over your stomach.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I love you, Deacon.”

“I love you,” he replies. “Both of you.”

At 15 weeks pregnant, you’re convinced that your baby is going to be an Olympic gymnast. Between the kicks to your bladder and the discomfort he or she can cause, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to simply sit and be comfortable. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been to the bathroom or shifted to find a better position, but it’s been an all-day battle.

“We’ve got 25 more weeks of this,” you whisper to your stomach. “Could we try to work together?”

A sharp pain against your side is your answer, and you shake your head in both discomfort and amusement. Deacon will be home soon, but you don’t want to concern him by mentioning any issues. When he does return, you raise your arms and hug him tightly.

“I missed you,” you say. It’s punctuated with a kiss on his jaw. “And I have an answer.”

Deacon’s eyes widen as he awaits your answer.

“I’m ready to say yes. I want to be your girlfriend, Deacon, more than anything.”

“I love you,” Deacon says.

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you. You move with Deacon until you hiss in pain and pull away. With a hand pressed to your bump, you wonder how someone can move so much in such a small space.

“You alright?” Deacon asks.

“Mostly. Someone’s active today.”

“C’mon, sit down,” Deacon urges.

After he helps you lower to the couch and kisses your forehead, Deacon walks to the kitchen. You twist as more kicks begin and tilt your head back as tears prick your eyes. Whether it’s pain or hormones, you can’t tell, but it’s not enjoyable.

“Let me try something,” Deacon says.

You nod to welcome him, and after he sets a snack and a glass of water before you (which you smile at), he sits beside you. He lays his hand over your stomach and brushes his thumb against you.

“Practicality doesn’t interest me, Love the life that I lead, I’ve got a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles, One little miracle a day is all I need,” Deacon sings softly. “Troubles more or less bother me, I guess When the sun doesn’t shine, But there’s a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles The world’s a bright and shiny apple that’s mine, All mine.”

As Deacon sings, your baby calms. You relax beneath Deacon’s touch, and he smiles up at you through the words of the song. You’ve told Deacon that you love him, but it’s clear that you aren’t the only one.

“Thank you,” you tell Deacon after he finishes the song. “We love you, Deacon Sinatra.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Deacon argues.

He kisses you, and your baby kicks. As you groan, Deacon chuckles and leans toward your bump again.

Your 16-week appointment is one of the most exciting, though you think Deacon is more excited than you. The appointment will tell you the gender of your baby, which has been the topic of many debates between Deacon and Luca over the last three months. Deacon is convinced it’s a boy, but Luca won’t change his vote for a girl. Either way, you know your baby is going to have an amazing and protective father figure and uncle in Deacon and Luca.

Two days before the appointment, however, everyone’s excitement levels drop. Deacon calls you as soon as he learns that he has to be in court the day of your ultrasound.

“I’m so sorry,” Deacon apologizes. “I would be there- I want to be there, but this court date came up out of nowhere and I have to testify.”

“I can try to reschedule the appointment,” you offer. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“No, no, you need to go. I just- I’ll find out when I get home.”

“Sorry, Deac. If you happen to get out of court early or anything, you know you’re welcome to drop by.”

“Yeah.” Deacon sighs before he says, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

After you end the call, you stare at your phone for a moment. Deacon was so excited when you asked him to come with you, and now he finds out just a few days before the most important ultrasound of your pregnancy that he can’t be with you. You’ll have to do something for him, and you have an excellent idea.

“Hey, are you okay?” Luca asks quickly when he answers.

“I’m fine,” you promise. “I just talked to Deacon, and he can’t come to the appointment this week. So, I wanted to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need your help to surprise Deacon.”

“Oh, I’m in.”

“He’s here,” you alert Luca. “Thank you for helping.”

“Of course,” he replies. “He’s going to be thrilled. You’re good for him.”

“I think you have that backward.”

“You’re good for each other. Trust me, I know things.”

You chuckle and shake your head. Luca pulls you into a hug and keeps one of his arms over your shoulders as Deacon enters the front door.

“Hey,” Deacon greets. “Luca.”

“Luca is here to tell us if I’m having a boy or a girl,” you explain.

“But you-“

“I told them not to tell me. So, they put it in an envelope and gave it to Luca.”

Deacon smiles and pulls you from Luca’s arms and into his. Luca scoffs and mumbles something about being your best friend before he walks away. You wrap your arms around Deacon from your position at his side.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Deacon tells you.

“Yes, I did. I wanted to.”

Luca returns with an oversized box. He shrugs at Deacon’s surprised look and says, “We couldn’t decide. So, would you like a lightsaber or your girl’s idea?”

“A lightsaber?” Deacon repeats. “I do want to see it, but I’ll take hers.”

“It’s not much,” you interject.

Luca nods and removes two smaller boxes. He sets them on Deacon’s kitchen table and steps back. You clutch Deacon’s hand between both of yours as he walks you to the table.

“Cake’s on the left, outfit’s on the right,” Luca tells you.

“I saw the ideas online,” you say. “The cake is either pink or blue, and the outfit is for the baby, so it’s for a boy or girl.”

“You pick,” Deacon offers. “Your baby.”

You shake your head and argue, “Your surprise.”

“Both, then. All of the above. I’ll cut the cake, you open the box, and Luca turns on the lightsaber.”

“Yes!” Luca exclaims.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you agree.

You stand before the box with the newborn outfit in it, Deacon holds a cake knife over the confetti-decorated cake, and Luca raises the lightsaber before him. With the lights dimmed, you count down from three. The lightsaber buzzes as the light glows from the handle up to the top, and you look from the outfit to the cake, to the glowing toy.

“You were right,” you cheer as you wrap your arms around Deacon.

“It’s a boy!” Deacon yells as he hugs you tightly.

“I have a nephew!” Luca exclaims as he twirls the lightsaber.

Deacon pulls back from the hug and gently wipes the joyful tears from your face before he looks at the outfit in your box. This is better than anything you could’ve heard in the doctor’s office, and you’re glad that you have both Deacon and Luca by your side.

“Hey, what flavor is that?” you ask as you look at the cake.

“Your favorite,” Luca answers. “Because I’m a good friend and a better uncle.”

You watch him play with the lightsaber as you lean against Deacon. This is home, you decide, and he always will be.

“Sit down,” Luca demands. “You’re almost five months pregnant, you’re not helping.”

“I’m pretty sure you said I’ll help you move in not I’ll move in for you,” you argue.

“Absolutely not,” Deacon adds as he walks through with a box. “You’re not lifting anything.”

“Then let me put stuff away!” you try.

“And stand for hours? No.”

“Take a seat. We can handle it,” Luca promises.

You huff as you sit back on the couch. Luca and Deacon walk out to get more boxes from the back of Luca’s truck. There wasn’t much to move, and your ex had put everything in a storage unit and then shipped the key to your attorney. Outside, Deacon and Luca get another reminder of your ex as they prepare to move a larger box.

“Hold up,” Luca requests. He pulls his ringing phone from his pocket and answers, “Luca.”

“Hey,” your ex greets.

“I told you to stop calling,” Luca seethes.

He stands up straighter and Deacon raises his brows in question.

“Yeah, well, my baby is due pretty soon. I want to know where she’s having my kid so I can be there.”

“You’re not welcome, and you never will be.”

Luca hangs up and shakes his head. Before he tells Deacon who it is, his phone rings again.

“Don’t hang up on me,” your ex begins. “I have a right to know.”

“You lost that right when you kicked the mother of your child out and divorced her just because she was pregnant. No one wants you here, and if you call one more time, the only answer you’re going to get is a restraining order.”

“I’ll find her myself, then.”

“Listen very closely,” Luca says darkly, surprising Deacon with how quickly his attitude intensified. “Do not come near her and stop calling. You’re not a father, you never were.”

“That wasn’t the first time,” Deacon says after Luca ends the call. “How many times has he called?”

“It’s been a while. He called every day for the first month or so, but nothing until now. He said he wanted to be there for the birth.”

“Luca, she-“

“She is getting a restraining order,” Luca interrupts. “Not that I think she’ll argue.”

Deacon nods and jumps out of the bed of the truck to go inside. Luca knows that it’s time to tell you, so he follows Deacon inside.

“Why are you up?” Deacon asks. “C’mon, we need to talk about something.”

“Oh,” you say, looking between Deacon and Luca. “About what?”

“Your ex.”

“He called today, and it wasn’t the first time. For some reason, he wanted to know where you were having the baby because he wants to be there,” Luca explains. “It was the first call in months, but I think you should consider a restraining order, just to be safe.”

You nod and immediately agree. “Thank you for dealing with it, Luca, and for not telling me. I don’t think I could’ve handled it before now.”

“What changed?” Deacon asks.

“Everything. You, moving in. I didn’t love him and I’m really happy now.”

Deacon pulls you close, and Luca teases you about stealing his only capable helper as he exits the house to bring in another box.

“I’m happy with you,” you whisper. “Thank you, Deacon.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he checks.

“I’ve never been better than I am with you,” you assure. “Thank you for everything.”

The halfway point of your pregnancy passes in a blur, but the five-month mark feels like someone slammed on the brakes. The entire 21st week of your pregnancy, you were nauseous, dizzy, sick, and tired. You kept it from Deacon for a few days, but Luca found out somehow and checked in on you often.

An hour after you went to bed, you wake suddenly and move as quietly as possible to the bathroom. Two silent trips later, you decide to stay there rather than risk waking Deacon. Leaning back against the cool tub, you close your eyes.

“What happened to tell me when things happen?” Deacon asks from the doorway.

“Nothing happened,” you argue tiredly.

“You’re just taking a nap in the tub because it looked comfortable, then?”

“Easier than going back and forth.”

Deacon offers his hands and helps you up slowly. You begin to argue with him, but when he leads you past your temporary home in his guest room, you fall quiet. He welcomes you into his arms in his bed, and you fall asleep and stay asleep. Deacon cares about you, and every time he shows that care, you grow more convinced that you won’t be able to leave him.

“You’re glowing!” Street says.

You look up quickly and smile when you see him. The decision to stop by the station and see Deacon and Luca was last minute, but you’re glad you’re here.

“Is it pregnancy glow or I’m dating Deacon Kay glow?” Street inquires playfully.

“Maybe it’s Maybelline,” you joke.

Street furrows his brows in confusion, and you wave your hand before his face and laugh. He swats your hand away gently and gestures for you to follow him. As you approach Luca, with his back to you, Street raises a finger to his lips and points. You roll your eyes but do it anyway.

When you grab Luca’s shoulders, he spins quickly. He inhales sharply when he sees you and tries to act mad, but when you raise your arms for a hug, he smiles and pulls you in.

“About time you visit again,” Hondo exclaims.

You smile and hug him quickly, and soon every member of 20 Squad – except for Deacon – is around you and asking about you and your son. When Deacon returns from the locker room, you’re pulled from the center of the circle and into his arms.

“Hey, when’s the baby shower?” Street asks.

“Never. I’m not inviting you guys to buy me gifts,” you say.

“Too late. They’re taking up space in the locker room,” Hondo replies. “Give us a date or we’re sending them all home with Deac.”

You shrug, and Luca says, “Saturday, my house.”

“Is it always like this?” you ask Deacon.

He nods and whispers, “Welcome to the family.”

At six months pregnant, you had accepted that you weren’t in a position to have a baby shower. Yet, here you sit, surrounded by cops and their families with an entire table full of gifts and more well wishes and love than you thought existed.

“Excuse us,” Deacon interrupts.

He apologizes to Hicks and Molly as he pulls you away but steers you directly to the couch before he tells you why he needed you.

“You’re getting tired,” he says. “Take a breather.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Or maybe I just need cake.”

“You’re going to end up on bedrest if you keep this up,” Deacon reminds you, though his voice and smile are gentle.

“Being with you 24/7,” you muse. “Maybe I’ll keep it up.”

Deacon shakes his head but kisses your forehead before he asks you to rest for a minute before you go back to socializing.

“Hello,” Deacon greets over the phone. “I was about to call you.”

“My water just broke,” you say. “Sorry, hi.”

“Did you say your water broke?”

“Yeah, like two minutes ago.” You grunt as a contraction begins.

“We’re on the way,” Deacon says. “Stay on the phone with me.”

“I’m not about to have the baby, you’ve got time.”

“I missed enough.”

“Wait, we?”

“You think Luca would let me leave without him?”

You chuckle through the end of the contraction and listen to Deacon yelling for Luca. He’s calm, but rushing, as if you’ll have the baby in the twenty minutes it will take him to get here.

“You’re amazing,” you tell Deacon.

“That’s all you. We’re leaving now. How do you feel?” he asks.

“I feel fine. Contractions hurt a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“We get to meet little man!” Luca cheers. “Hey, did she pick a name yet?”

“A few,” you and Deacon say together. “She’ll pick when she sees him,” he tells Luca.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Deacon and Luca rush into his house. You’re waiting by the door with your hospital bag, and you smile as Luca takes your bag. Deacon sits with you in the backseat of his car as Luca drives.

After you enter the hospital with two protective men wearing SWAT uniforms, you get into a private room before you can even sit in the waiting area. Your contractions grow closer quickly, and Deacon’s hand stays in yours through every moment of labor. Luca is waiting outside to meet your son, but at this moment, you only notice Deacon.

“You’re amazing,” Deacon tells you. “You can do this.”

He continues to encourage you and stays close to you throughout the entire process. The moment your son’s cries fill the room, you relax and whisper, “Thank you” to Deacon.

“A beautiful baby boy,” the nurse says as she passes your son to you.

You hold him against your chest, and you look up at Deacon. He smiles at you and lays his hand over yours on your son’s back. His eyes are misty, and you mouth I love you, which he returns without hesitation.

“We’ll be right back,” the nurse promises as she lifts your son. “Just a quick check-up.”

After the room clears, and only you and Deacon remain, you sit up carefully and pull him closer by his hand.

“I have a question,” you say. Deacon nods, and you ask, “Can I give him your last name?”

Deacon’s eyes widen but he doesn’t answer.

“I don’t have to; you don’t have to!” you add quickly. “I just thought-“

“Yes,” Deacon whispers as a tear breaks past his water line. “Yes.”

You sigh and smile as Deacon wraps both of his hands around yours.

“You’re the only father he’s had, the only one he will have,” you explain. “Thank you.”

Deacon bends over to kiss you, and you wipe his tears before he stands. The nurse returns soon after, and Deacon takes your son from her and holds him to his chest. Deacon may not be the reason this baby exists, but he’s his son, no matter what happens.

“He’s perfect,” Luca whispers as he enters your room. “Looks just like you.”

“Thank you for everything, Luca,” you reply.

“Are you kidding? I’m just getting started.”

He lifts a giant gift bag onto your bed, and you smile before you look at Deacon and your son. They’re both perfect, you think.

“We need to talk,” Deacon says as he returns from the nursery. He sits beside you and adds, “It’s about what you’re comfortable with me doing.”

“Everything,” you say.

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” you assure, pressing your hand to Deacon’s chest. “You’re his father, Deacon, and if you want to do anything for him, I won’t stop you. He loves you… almost as much as I do.”

Deacon smiles as he leans forward to kiss you. He told you in the hospital after you gave birth that he wanted to step in and be a father to your son, and you quickly corrected him to say our son. Even before you started dating Deacon, you knew there was something special about him, and now that you’re in a real relationship with him, you understand that everything about Deacon Kay is special.

With your head on Deacon’s chest and his arms around you, his touch and heartbeat lull you to sleep. Your son falls asleep the moment Deacon picks him up, too, and the realization makes Deacon smile. Deacon brushes his hand over your shoulder as he lays awake. He doesn’t know how much time passes before your son starts crying. Deacon turns down the baby monitor beside him and stands, careful not to disturb you.

He enters the nursery he set up before you gave birth and gently picks his son up. Deacon sways as he rubs little Kay’s back.

“Practicality doesn’t interest me, Love the life that I lead, I’ve got a pocketful of miracles, And with a pocketful of miracles, One little miracle a day is all I need,” Deacon sings softly.

With Deacon's touch, his voice, and the vibrations of his chest, your son calms quickly and falls asleep against Deacon’s chest. When Deacon turns, you’re leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” you whisper. “He still likes it.”

Deacon raises one arm, and you join his side. He kisses your head before you tilt your chin up for a proper kiss.

“I love you,” you tell him.

“I love you more than I can say,” he replies. “Both of you.”

Deacon begins singing again and sways. He locks eyes with you as he changes the song to The Way You Look Tonight. Your relationship with Deacon gets better daily, and this moment proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Deacon is a great father, and he does love both of you.

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