#sorry about the rushed ending but i wanted something to cheer you up :)\(

[cold-heart-warm-writings]

Imagine decorating your apartment for the winter holidays with Mikey. 

You’ve been feeling a bit down and stressed between school and general life happenings, and have been struggling to feel the holiday spirit permeating from every store and winter market. Mikey was worried. You were always there for him, and he hated seeing you upset and stressed. His natural resolution?

 Kidnapping. Kidnapping for a date that is. He took you to pick out a Christmas tree. At first you wanted to complain about the cold, but then he pulled out matching hats and scarves he’d seen, and found a stand that sold hot chocolate and hot cider. He bought one of each so you wouldn’t have to spend any energy on making a decision. Mikey knew you already overwhelmed from making so many other decisions, he thought trying to choose one hot drink might push you over the edge (it wouldn’t have… or so you tell yourself). 

You brought up that if he was worried about you making a decision over hot drinks, what about having to make a far more important decision of finding the perfect tree? Wasn’t that an even harder decision? Mikey’s brain buffered for a full minute before he went “Well…” And headed back to the car he had  stolen rented (there’s no way a tree would’ve fit on the back of his bike). You laughed and intertwined your arm with his as you walked up and down the aisles of available trees. 

Finally, you found the perfect tree, a cute stout one, with a nice top for a star. “Good thing I have a ladder so I can place you up there.” Mikey cheesed. Upon setting the tree up in your apartment, you went about decorating the tree. Emma had helped Mikey think of various activities for this big date, and helped him plan out the finer details. They’d picked out a few ornaments pre-made from the store, and also picked out a few ornament making kits. Mikey didn’t have many crafts that he’d made as a kid, so you both found special meaning and happiness in creating ornaments together. 

Of course, no date is complete without snacks. Two gingerbread house kits and a cookie decorating kit also appeared out of some hidden corner. When you looked at Mikey incredulously, he responded with a simple “the car can hold a lot,” and you secretly wished he would always drive a car. You blasted Christmas music, created your own music video for Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas is You, and enjoyed warm cookies, fresh out of the oven. 

To round off the night, you both cuddled on the couch while watching your favorite Christmas movie, perfectly content and once again at peace. The distraction from your stress and reminder that at the end of the day, Mikey would always love you and think you were one of the most brilliant people he knew, helped you feel like no matter what the next day might bring, you would get through it.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

[angelfrombeneth]

MESSY - M . RIDDLE

Mature and Possibly Triggering Content Ahead

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Summary: You and your bestfriend of 13 years have a bit of a spat, that turns into her being a shit friend. So you also return the favour.

Warnings: SMUT, Implied Cheating, Slight mention of violence, Your bestfriend is a shitty friend, You do something shitty, Dom!Mattheo, Sub!Reader, Not been proofread - expect slightly grammar errors.

A/N: Thought I'd switch it up with Theo and do a Mattheo short. This is just a random draft. It's not one of my best works but I wanted to put something out cuz it had been a while. I've been super busy w my studies so I haven't had time to finish my other fics or any asks. So please accept this for now 🫶

"Hey Erica!" You smiled as you skipped up to your friend. Erica had been your best friend for 13 years. Your mother's were best friends before your mum passed, you grew up together and stuck by eachother no matter what. Even when you both got sorted into two different houses; she got Slytherin and you got Hufflepuff. Despite all odds, you both at in 6th year still going strong.

Erica turned to look at you, her eyebrow quirked. "What?"

You stood before her, confused with her attitude. "I thought we could go hangout in the pavilion together?"

She turned to her group of Slytherin friends and snickered slightly, bidding them goodbye before looking at you. "Sure, Where's Cedric?" You looked at her weirdly while you both walked towards the pavilion.

"I'm not sure, why'd you ask?"

"No reason, just suprised your both always at eachothers hip, it's weird he's not"

"Your right.. I should ask him-"

"No!" She cut you off. "Its ok, ill ask him for you, maybe he won't tell you the real reason"

"Thanks Erica" You smiled. The pair of you sat in the pavilion and gossiped about many different things.

You spotted Pansy across the pavilion waving you over to her and her friends. "Hey, I'm going to see Pansy, ill see you later?" You stand.

"Her? You're friends with her" Erica scoffed, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Whats wrong with Pansy?"

"Everything, she's just a fucking whore. All those guys she's friends with she probably sleeps with them all she's a wh-"

"Erica stop it. I don't know what your deal is... Pansy is nice to me ok? Just drop it" You looked at her weirdly from her behaviour.

"Your right, I'm sorry. I'll go speak to Cedric now for you" She smiled before rushing off.

You shrugged it off and walked over to Pansy smiling.

"Y/N!" She cheered as you sat down next to her. "We were just talking about how cute you and Cedric are, 3 months now right?" Pansy smiled at you.

"Yeah, it's going great, im really happy actually"

"Thats so good, Although we always thought you'd end up with a Slytherin boy" Astoria snickered.

"Really? Who, I don't even really talk to many of the guys" You quirked.

"Probably Theo, he's the gentleman out of them all, the best choice other than my Blaise" Daphne smiled.

You smiled at her, Her and Blaise had been together since 2nd year. They were like the powerhouse couple of Hogwarts, perfect in every way.

"Pans, did you and Erica have an argument she seems to have a strong.. hatred for you" You looked to the girl beside you.

Pansy looked up at Daphne and Astoria and laughed slightly before taking your hand. "I never did anything to her, she's just jealous I'm friends with the guys. She keeps implying I'm 'fucking them all' but I'm literally gay" Pansy snickered.

"Thats literally what I thought, I thought everyone knew?"

"Everyone does, Erica is just fucking stupid" Tori scoffed, crossing her legs over eachother.

"Tori-" Daphne glared to her.

"Besides its because her and Mattheo have this thing or whatever, and me and him are close" She shrugged.

"Mattheo? As in Mattheo Riddle?" You raised your eyebrow.

"Yeah- Why?" They all looked at you weirdly.

"Isn't his dad like.. You-know-who?" You whispered.

They all laughed at you softly. Pansy patting you on the back.

"You're so sweet and innocent" Astoria cooed.

A loud bell chimed around the whole castle you all stood up.

"Fuck, I have potions" Astoria groaned.

"You'll live" Daphne laughed at her.

"See you around Y/N!" She smiled to you as you all parted ways.

You sighed as you walked into the castle.

Over the next few weeks you hung out more with Pansy, Daphne and Astoria. Everytime you'd hang out with Erica she'd ice you out or something. You also notice Cedric just get more and more bored with your presence which just didn't make you feel any better. You had wondered what Erica and Mattheo were considering she never once mentioned him to you. At all.

You sighed, as you stared down at your tea leaves, poking at them with your wand.

You felt a gush of wind beside you as someone sat in the always vacant seat.

"I know this seat isn't taken, so I will be sitting here" You heard. You looked up to see Mattheo, smiling down at you.

"I take notice when my favourite girls start hanging out with another person, which means you must be a goodie" He smiled at you. "Y/N, right?"

You nodded smiling. "I didn't realise you all were so close"

"We are like a second family, since our actual ones are pretty shitty" He snickered.

Over the following weeks you had grown close to all the Slytherins, hanging our with them all. Occasionally Cedric would come over but he wasn't that interested which just irked you. He had apologised for his lack of presence that made you feel a bit better.

You and Mattheo had become quite close, to him he was quite fond of you. Found you very cute. Erica didn't like your friendship with Mattheo all of a sudden and this was the brunt of most of your arguments. You always apologised then backed away from the group for a day or so, but it was just like a forever cycle.

You had discovered, Mattheo and Erica were dating but you were confused as to why she hadn't told you but you didn't want to take it to heart, there must've been a reason.

After class, you walked down the halls, students rushing quickly to make it to their next class, as you walked down towards the Hufflepuff entrance you noticed all the Slytherin boys all hanging in the kitchen.

"Feeding time at the zoo again?" You snickered. The boys all turned staring at you like deers caught in headlights. This wasn't the first time you'd come across them in the kitchen. You had grown close with the Slytherin boys recently, but you had grown to know them more for you sort exchanges everytime you see them feasting away.

"Fuck- Y/N you scared us. I thought you were a fucking teacher" Blaise sighed.

"Why are you guys always here on my free" You quirked your brow.

"We just wanna see you so bad!" Enzo whined as you chuckled.

"Where you off to in a rush anyway" Draco licked his finger from the pie covering it.

"M' meeting Cedric in the common room. I'll see you guys later" You smiled to them before walking a bit away from the kitchen and entering the Hufflepuff commonroom.

If you could go back to 2 minutes ago when you were laughing at the boys stuffing their face with pie. You would.

As you rounded the corner towards the opening of the commonroom to froze, hearing giggles and.. moaning? What freak would fuck in the common room, you scoffed. What you didn't expect was who. You decided to just ignore the sounds and quickly pass up to Cedrics dorm when you caught a glimpse of an oh so familiar green gem clawclip thrown across the floor.

"Erica?" You raised your eyebrow as you stared at the couch.

You watched as Erica sat up, disheaved hair and messy makeup before the other person sat up to. That person being... Cedric.

"Cedric- Erica what the fuck??" You shouted at them both.

"Y/N- He threw himself at me, I swear. We were just talming and-" She gasped, standing up and changing herself.

"What No??- It's not what it looks like- She"

"SHUT UP!" you screamed. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to your stupid excuses. You didn't slip and fall into her Cedric be fucking for real" You scoffed at him, storming up to him and slapping him across the face. Your voice cracked as you yelled and turned on your heels and ran from the common room.

"Y/N WAIT!-" Cedric yelled.

As you rounded the last bend the last thing you heard- "Wellthat was easy, see you later Cedric" Erica cackled.

You thought she was your friend, best friend forever. She was a fucking liar. A disgusting whorey liar. You sobbed as you ran from the commonroom towards the stairs. You ran past the kitchen, the slytherin boys noticing you running. You didn't stop, you had to go to Pansy. You knew she had a free and she was in her dorm. So you ran there.

Third POV:

"Was that Y/N?" Enzo poked his head out of the kitchen confused by your rushed nature.

"She was crying- I hope she's OK.." Theo hit his lip slightly nervous for you.

"She's fine, probably stubbed her toe or something" Draco snickered.

Mattheo and the boys decided to ignore the fact Y/N ran past crying and it probably wasn't any of your issues. That was until he noticed two people sneak past the kitchen.

"Who was that?" Enzo questioned.

"No clue" Mattheo shrugged.

Your POV:

The next few days you spend sobbing and skipping classes. Astoria, Pansy and Daphne took turns looking after you as you wailed in their arms. Not only had your friend relationship fucked up. He cheated on you and with your 'best friend'.

When you told the girls they were pissed. You practically had to talk Astoria out of certain violent consequences. They stayed with you and comforted you for ages. The first few days were crucial.

You had recieved owls from Erica, explanation in her own fucked up words how the situation wasn't at all what she thought it was and how it was just a huge misunderstanding. You couldn't help but scoff at her bullshit.

Three weeks had passed since everything you left Pansys after a few days and stayed boarded up in your room for an additional 2 weeks. No one came in and no one came out. The girls were concerned for you but understood you needed time.

News travelled that you and Cedric broke up but nothing about Erica being a home wrecker. When you finally left your pit after nearly 4 weeks you had seen significant changes. You were quite pale due to lack of sun and nutrients - you didn't look sick you just looked tired. People noticed and just felt.. bad for you. What really set you over the edge is in these 4 weeks not only had Erica homewrecked your relationship- she had clung to the people you had become to get comfortable with.

This was the second time Erica had done this to you. In 3rd Year you had started dated Adrian Pucey when she swooped in and was making out with him. She had told you he threw himself at her and she was so sorry she didn't mean to hurt you and you fucking believed her. Now this was just proof she was a bitch and she expected you to just forgive her which is what you'd do, but you had to come up with a plan.

You walked down towards the Slytherin common room, and up towards Erica's dorm. Erica only had one other dormmate but she was in the hospital wing currently due to a mishap in potions.

You knocked on the door and the door swung open to reveal Erica. A sickening smile spread across her lips as she let you in.

"Oh Y/N- I'm so glad your here. I need to explain everything to you" She wore a fake pout as she hugged you before pulling away.

She was rushing around her room fixing her hair and doing her makeup as she spoke to you. You sat on her bed.

"I was talking to Cedric, about what I said when he threatened me. He was saying about how he'd hurt you and how he'd do horrible things to you if I didn't sleep with him Y/N"

Really. Does she really think you'd believe this. You had to try your best not to laugh.

"Erica that is so horrible- I know you didn't mean to- You'd never do anything to hurt me" You smiled.

"Exactly!" She turned to look at you smiling. "He was a terrible boyfriend Y/N you can do so much better- Look stay here. I'll be back, I have to go see Mattheo in the hospital wing but I'll be back soon. Then we can have a girlie night" She smiled again. That fame smile was irking you.

"Of course" You smiled as she rushed out of the door leaving you. How stupid was she to think you'd believe her bullshit lies. You peered around the room, groaning. Why did she get to keep a boyfriend after all of this.

Speak of the devil, the door swung open to reveal Mattheo, leaning against the door frame as he quizzically looked at you.

"Y/N? Where'd Erica?" He asked.

"Mattheo? She said she went to the hospital wing for you-"

Mattheo rolled his eyes scoffing. "I came here to break up with that cheating slut and she's gone to cheat. How ironic" He laughed, venom lacing his tone. "I know your friends but seriously you can do b-"

"Actually we aren't friends" You cut him off. "I was here to listen to her bullshit excuses on why she fucked my boyfriend" You scoffed.

"Cedric too?" Mattheo scoffed. "I don't get it, I was actually a good boyfriend to her, for once I wasn't the asshole" He laughed mockingly.

Mattheo sat next to you on Erica's bed as the pair of you sighed. It was quite for a moment before you spoke.

"Maybe she needs a taste of her own medicine.." You peered to Mattheo, who was now smirking.

"A dark streak for a little hufflepuff like you? Do go on" He bit his lip as he stared down at you. Now you look at it, Mattheo was twice the size of you.

"Maybe we could.. you know" You looked down.

"I'm a changed man Y/N- but fuck, my old ways would always come back for you" He smirked, referring to his last two years of THE player and heartbreaker of Hogwarts.

Before you could reply you heard a soft chuckle before Mattheo's hands are instantly all over you. He kisses you softly but needingly. The way his lips move against yours as his hands grab at the plush of your thigh.

You could almost laugh at his neediness but it turned you on even more. You climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer, needing more. Your tongues dancing upon eachother as you grinded down against his growing bulge. The softly moans he'd release into your mouth were enough to have you moaning.

You broke away shortly as the pair of you quickly stripped down to your underwear. You stood up, throwing your jumper and shirt off as you shimmied out of your skirt. Mattheo kicked off his trousers, throwing his jumper and shirt across the room just in time to catch you as he jumped onto him again. A light chuckle leaving his mouth as the pair of you sat pratically skin to skin.

"God you are so fucking hot" He smirked, biting his lip as you sat back down on his lap, as he sat at the end of the bed.

He watched as you, pulled your panties off, dropping them beside the end of the bed as you yanked at his boxers. Smirking as his cock sprung out and hit his stomach.

"So big, and you were all hers?" You smirked, pecking his lips softly as you pulled yourself closer, instantly sinking down on his length as you yelped at the size. His grip, harsh on you as his fingers dug into your hips,his eyes slightly rolling at the sensation.

"Fuck-" You sighed out as you wiggled down on him, reaching back to unclasp your bra and tossing it aside, before pulling him closer and smashing your lips onto his yet against as you grinded down against him.

You gasped, as he gripped your waist, thrusting up into you as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Dont be a bitch Y/N" He smirked against your mouth as your tongues tied to one another as your hands roamed all over. His hands reached to your ass, squeezing, gripping and slapping the flesh as much as he could as your hips buckled against his, his cock burying itself deeper inside of you.

"mm.. J-just like that" You sighed, reading your head against his shoulder as you rocked your hips back and forth against his, sighing at the sensation.

He couldn't handle it much longer as he threw you down against the bed, giving you time to get on all fours as he kicked off his boxers as he gripped your hips and began to piston into you. Your back arched as you gripped the sheets, your teeth sunk into the duvet as you whined into the cotton. You could practically hear his filthy smirk as you whined. His hands aggressively gripping at your love handles as he bounced against you, pulling you back harshly with each thrusted rebound. The way your skin slapped loudly against his as it collided. The way your ass, bounced against his thrusts sent him over the edge.

With each thrust, his hand would grasp at the flesh of your ass, squeezing it or slapping it as you whined down into the mattress. A filthy smirk spread across his face.

"Oh fuck!-" You gasped as you whined, eyes rolling back slightly as you gripped at the sheets.

"Good girl- Good fucking girl.. Taking it so well" He growled from behind. His voice just made you even wetter, the whole situation had your stomach in knots.

He continued on your ass as you gasped for air, his hand yanking at your hair, collecting it into a messy ponytail as he yanked you up and back against his chest. His free arm snaked around your waist, pushed down against your lower stomach, intensifying each thrust as you could feel the pressure of his arm. You whined out loudly, gasping at the sensation as he took the chance to let go of your hair and wrap a hand around your neck.

You gazed to the side to look at Mattheo, as he smirked, before kissing you roughly. His tongue instantly sliding into your mouth as you sighed into the kiss. Toying with his tongue as his cock made at home inside your walls. The way he thrusted in and out like he owned it had you on the edge.

You broke away momentary, gasping for air as he pulled away completely. The emptiness between your legs prominent as you whined, falling forward but catching yourself, moving to lay on your back against the bed, looking up at him.

"Miss me already" He laughed, sweat dripping down his body as he stared at you smirking, as he climbed ontop of you, kissing down your neck, sucking softly at the skin.

"Fuck- How can I not, when you look like that" You chuckled, running your hands up and down his naked body. You couldn't help but let your hand linger over his stomach, as your fingers dipped between the crevasses of his chiselled chest.

"You're bad, fucking your bestfriends boyfriend" He smirked, biting his lip as he hovered over the top of you, his hand pumping his cock as he stared down at you.

"She did it first, I'm just returning the favour" You smirked, pulling his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. You could feel Mattheo smirked against you as he lined up yet against to thrusts into you. His forehead against yours as he smirked down at you.

"You are so cute, shame it took this to see your dark side" He laughed as his thumb caressed your cheek softly, pecking your lips as he slowly slid back into you. You gasped, arching your back, as your chest pressed up against his as your body shook below him.

"God, I fucking love how you just melt at my fucking touch. So slutty" He laughed lowly in your ear, as he nibbled on the shell of it before biting at your shoulder and sucking on it as he began to thrust.

As he began the thrust at first they were soft, his lips peppering kisses all down your neck and collarbone as you whined softly under his touch. You watched as he licked the bruises that had formed across your skin as he smirked down at you. His smirk was sickening. Sickeningly sweet.

His cock sunk in and out of you like it was moulded for you. The way you whined and moaned into his ear had him harder than ever. He was obsessed with you and the pretty little sounds you made.

As he fucked you, he tossed your leg over his shoulder as he continued to fuck you at such an animalistic pace you were unsure if you'd make out of this in one piece. Your stomach, knotted at the pleasure. You hummed and whined as his cock thrashed in and out of you as he whined.

His lips capturing yours once against for a kiss, yet this time deeper. His lips moved so sensually against yours, as he kissed you with such passion. His hand, clasped around your neck as his tongue slid in and out of your mouth as the pair of you hummed. It was like time stopped and it was just you. You had never been fucked this good before, but thanks to Mattheo you now had.

You continued to whined with each thrust, gasping as you gripped at his hair, tugging on it. Mattheo's slight chuckles at every whine that left your mouth sent you spiraling.

As he kissed your deeper and fucked you harder you heard as scream, causing you both to pull away from the kiss. But that didn't stop Mattheo from railing the fuck out of you still. The pair of you looked over his shoulder to see Erica stood in the doorway. On urge you went to pull away from Mattheo in embarrassment but he held you down, smirking back at you as he sped up causing you to arch your back, screaming.

"Mhm- Fuck.. Your dick is so perfect" You whined as your gaze slightly lingering on Erica as the pair of you made eyecontact before you arched your back, leaning back and gripping the headboard. as he fucked you into the mattress. Your body recoiling against the thrusts as the bed creaked and shook.

The two of you edging closer to your high before you both case against one another. You pulled him closer as you kissed him deeply. Moaning softly into his mouth as you creamed his cock. Sighing softly as your body slowly loosened up.

Mattheo pulled away, smirking as he licked his lips. The pair of you had forget Erica was in the room and could more than happy stay like this until you heard a shrill shriek. "WHAT THE FUCK!" She yelled.

The pair of you untied from one another as you sighed, standing up and pulling your clothes back on, as Erica stood in shock at the two of you.

As you buttoned your shirt, you threw your jumper of your shoulders as you grabbed your heels before walking around Erica. "Just returning the favour" You smiled at her wholeheartedly. "Have fun cleaning" You turned to Mattheo before you left, shooting him a wink as he still led against the bed, bare naked.

"You- WHAT??" You could hear the cogs turning in Erica's head as you felt the scene before hearing crashing and screaming. Now she knows how you felt I guess, and well.

She deserved it.

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[kestisvrse]

good luck charm

part i, part ii

pairing ⋆ hockey player!luke castellan x fem!reader au. fluff.

synopsis ⋆ the rivalry between you and luke had ended, revealing feelings that were buried and how badly he wanted to call you his.

warnings ⋆ i know nothing abt hockey i’m just canadian let me live, swearing, fast paced sorry😭 | wc: 1.3k

♫ - nervous by the neighbourhood

life recently felt like a parallel universe, it felt almost wrong to wake up every morning with a good morning text from luke castellan.

you weren’t exactly close, but you had gotten to the point where you could talk and you didn’t insult him the entire time, and even found yourself cheering for him at his games.

your brother nagged at you for details about what happened that day, as you responded with nothing other than you apologized for being rude to him. he wasn’t buying it all, he had yet to see the fact that you texted luke daily, he only noticed the lack of comments you would make towards him and the fact that you would smile towards luke, something he thought was physically impossible.

you had realized pretty quickly after that day that despite ‘hating’ luke, it was to get rid of the butterflies you felt everytime you saw his curly black hair in a room, or heard his raspy voice with the smirk he always wore. it embarrassed you to think about, to think like this over a boy, but you couldn’t help it.

luckily, it was obvious he likes you, it was obvious from the first day you met him and how often he would be distracted from his tasks by you, but now that you were friends? some people could consider it insufferable how he would act with you, one of your friends called him ‘lovesick’.

which he was, it was such an odd realization, going from hating the boy to secretly liking him while he acted like your boyfriend, constantly texting you, sending you videos of how it reminded him of you or that you two should do a tik tok trend that was obviously made for couples.

he wasn’t embarrassed, he wanted you to know from the start how he felt, but the walls you built hid you from the truth until he broke them down.

despite how it all felt to you, rushed and weird, you found yourself sitting in his car, looking over the ocean as the sun set.

you couldn’t help but overthink everything, after all you said to him, here he sat, admiring your face unable to tear away, like you were a mirage he didn’t want to fade away.

“you’re staring, castellan.” you broke the silence between you two.

“thank you so much, captain obvious.” you could hear the smirk that formed as he said his clever response, earning an eye roll from you, but your own smile creeping up, “you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“yeah, why?” you ask

“great, i want you to wear this.” he reaches into his backseat before returning with his jersey, his eyes full of joy as he offers it to you.

“luke..” you stared at the jersey in your hands, “are you sure? i mean people will probably think i’m your girlfriend.”

“that was the plan, yes.” he says, “just, try it on.” he motions to you, you shrug it over your hoodie looking for his reaction.

to say he was in awe was an understatement, he was stuck in a trance at the sight of you wearing his number, like a deer in headlights he stared at you.

“luke…?” you spoke up, he snapped his head up to make eye contact with you.

“please wear it to the game.” he stuttered, his cheeks flushed red and suddenly his car felt very hot.

“okay, i will.” you whisper.

↦

the freezing air against your face from the rink was so familiar it barely bothered you anymore, you had yet to see your brother and you wondered just what would go through his head at the sight of you, a hoodie on with an extra layer of the team’s colours, sporting luke castellan's number.

you didn’t even think of luke’s reaction, something about really seeing you with it on at the rink, he knew he was done for. when he exited the dressing room he immediately froze at the sight of you, and your smile that you reserved just for him, he was bright red at this point.

“luke!” you blurted, running up to him.

“hey.” he breathed out, unable to take his eyes off you.

“goodluck, you’ll do great.” you praised him, biting back a smile as you stared up at him.

“i have a good luck charm today, i think we can win.” he told you, a cheeky grin appearing, you tilt your head asking what it was, “you.”

before you could answer he was dragged off to the ice, you could feel your own blush rise up at his words. quickly rushing to your seat, your brother spots you and mid smile his jaw drops.

you sent him a sheepish wave, as luke grinned at the sight of him.

and then the game started.

as per usual, luke whipped around the ice. easily dodging and weaving his opponents as if they were made of air. it was mesmerizing to watch the way he moved, he seemed so focused on the task at hand, and yet even while he skated down the rink with the puck at the end of his stick, he still found the opportunity to look at you.

he was bound to get player of the game you thought to yourself, the way he boosted his teammates up, making sure everyone got the chance to make an impressive move even if that was the complete opposite point of the sport.

as the final buzzer rang, you jumped from your seat, the crowd watching erupted into cheers at the teams win as they watched the boys tackle each other into hugs.

you quickly dodged and ran through the stands to get to the entrance to the rink, to congratulate the team, as luke watched you make your way to him, he threw his helmet to the side to grab you and bring you into his arms.

“you won! you fucking won the tournament castellan!” you squealed into his neck.

he stopped spinning you and placed you onto the ground, and the way he looked into your eyes made everyone in the rink disappear. the cold air that previously nipped at you was replaced with a warm cozy feeling as you stared into his eyes.

he went to ask you the question, but his words wouldn’t come out, he felt his team stop and stare at the two of you, as you nodded towards him just from the expression in his eyes.

the expression was him asking if he could kiss you.

you swore you heard fireworks when he lent down to meet your lips, his gloves discarded so he could put his sweaty hands on your face, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours was enough to make you completely ignore how sweaty he was from the game.

he pulled away from your lips, as badly as he wanted to stay there forever.

“been wanting to do that for awhile.” he breathes, awestruck as he stares at you, as if you were the most extraordinary thing in the world.

“i knew it!” your brother's voice called out, distracting you from answering, “i knew you were sneaking out to see him!” your brother's jaw was on the ground.

“uh… sorry?” you muttered

your brother gave luke the iconic ‘you hurt her, i kill you.’ look before wandering into the dressing room.

luke just turns to you, “can i take you on a proper date tonight, good luck charm?” he asks

you snort, but begin to grin, “once you wash all this sweat off, i would love to go on a date with you.” he smirks and goes to kiss you, but you place your palm on his chest to push him back, “shower, castellan.”

despite how fast he flew down the rink, he definitely ran faster to the shower, in desperate need for another kiss from you.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny & Constantine, Orange, Butterscotch Ripple

@imbreonix Prompt fill set #4

It started out as a joke that turned into an actual event: Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It sounded absurd, of course it did. The Justice League was hardly work and certainly not a social club, but once it had been said people started to actually think about it. More and more of the heroes were taking on mentorship rolls for the next generation. While the heroes, of course, tried their best to provide what their mentees needed, they were still grown, experienced heroes and their sidekicks were kids.

Kids who lived a life that most could never understand.

Eventually it have been talked about enough in passing and over rushed meals and before meetings that it ended up on the agenda.

“Robin believes it would be beneficial for the younger heroes to know others in the same positions as themselves,” Batman had explained, as if that answered anything. The Big Bat wouldn’t even clarify who Robin was.

But there they were, Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It actually was a pretty nice event with snacks, drinks, and several enthusiastic sidekicks. It turned out Robin was Batman’s sidekick.

“Partner,” Robin insisted boldly, whenever the term sidekick was used within his hear range (which was disturbingly good).

The kid was the very opposite of Batman: bright, personable, and always in motion. Flash was more than a little concerned how quickly Robin and Kid Flash seemed hit it off. “They’re plotting something.”

“Hn,” was Batman’s reply, though he was watching the two whispering sidekicks too.

All in all it was a cheerful success.

It made John’s skin crawl. He jiggled the unlit cigarette in his fingers. He didn’t do social events, not outside of bars, and he really, really didn’t want to be here.

“We can just go back to the House,” a small, nervous voice suggested hopefully from behind John.

That was the thing, though, he wasn’t here for his own sake.

“No, we can’t,” John said with a sigh.

“We really can, though. We haven’t even talked to anyone. I bet they haven’t even noticed we’re here—”

“John! I did not think you would be attending,” Wonder Woman said as she approached, a smile in place. A good chunk of the founding members trailed after her.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a little shrug. He didn’t admonish the kid for cussing, he didn’t have a leg to stand on there, but by Superman’s puzzled face the Big Blue had clearly heard it. “Figured I had better bring the kid.”

“The kid?” Hal repeated incredulously.

John reminded himself he really shouldn’t punch his teammates.

“Yeah, the kid,” John said. He stepped aside to reveal Danny who had been hiding behind him. “Geist, Justice League, Justice League, Poltergeist.”

“Um, who, Constantine?” Flash asked, sounding nervous.

John looked to his right, which for all appearances, was an empty spot of air. “Seriously, kid?”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered.

“It’s okay, kid,” John said, holding back a sigh. The kid was sensitive to that sort of thing, so John had been trying. (He still messed up plenty, but he was trying.) John looked back the Justice Leaguers and shrugged. “Ghost. Visibility is like that sometimes.”

“Ah,” Diana said with a sage nod. John admired the woman for how nothing seemed to phase her. She simply looked to where John had been looking and smiled. “Hello, Poltergeist. Welcome to Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day.”

“Partner!” a kid dressed like a damn traffic light called from across the room where he was talking to who was clearly a mini Flash.

“Oh,” Danny said. (It was clearly weirding out some of the heroes to hear Danny but not see him.) “I’m not… John doesn’t let me help that much? I don’t know if I count as a sidekick.”

“That’s because last time you tagged along you went intangible and fell through a bridge, kid,” John grumbled and then immediately felt bad. “You know we’re working on it.”

“Yeah,” Danny mumbled.

John couldn’t see Danny, not any more than the others, but he could picture the way the kid would be scuffing his toe on the floor, head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

John sighed. “Ain’t your fault kid, powers take time to master.”

“Robin,” Batman called.

Immediately the tiny traffic light was literately bounding across the space to stand next to Batman. The kid smiled up at the Big Bat like the man had hung the moon.

“Yes, B?”

“This,” Batman said, nodding to the empty space, “is Poltergeist. He came with Constantine.”

“Oh,” Robin said. He spun to face the spot of air and held out his hand without hesitation. “Come, Kid Flash and I are— um,” Robin shot Batman a look, “talking. You can join us! I bet you will be really useful!”

Flash mouthed the word ‘useful’ with a terrified look on his face, but no one actually said anything while Robin just stood there, smiling, with his hand out. And then Robin’s grin impossibly widened, his hand closed around nothing, and he took off across the room.

“…anyone else worried about that?” John asked after a moment.

“So worried,” Flash said.

“Hn,” Batman added.

“Right then. I need a glass of shitty punch to spike,” John said and abandoned his teammates to find the refreshments. Thank the gods, the fuckers, for hip flasks.

-

“I live with a ghost now, Bats, you’ve got to up your skills if you want to sneak up on me anymore,” John said before taking another sip of his much improved punch.

Batman stepped up into the corner of John’s vision, which felt like such a Bat thing to do, so John felt the placement was very purposeful. John wouldn’t complain, it let him watch Batman without taking his his eyes off where Danny was sitting with Robin, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Danny was pretty see through, but he was slowly becoming more visible the longer he spent in the company of the other teen heroes.

“How long have you had him?” Batman asked.

John snorted. “That’s what you go with? Not how it works to fuck a ghost?”

Hal and Aquaman weren’t as quiet as they thought they were, but maybe that was on purpose. Maybe they had wanted John to hear. He just hoped the kids hadn’t. He might not have a clean mouth, but even he had limits.

“He doesn’t have to be your blood to be your son,” Batman said in that certain way of his.

It had John finally glancing over at Batman. It was a lot to admit and John hated to be on uneven grounds. “How long have you had yours?”

No one would ever believe him, but John could swear that Batman almost smiled.

“Nearly five years.”

John hummed and took another sip of the punch. “Only six months, not even. And he’s not my son. Kid deserves better than me as a da.”

“They always deserve better,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble that John swore he could feel in his battered bones. “We just have to try to be better.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a bitter chuckle. “I’m not you, Bats, I don’t think I have better in me.”

“Yes you do, you’re here, after all,” Batman pointed out.

John swallowed and looked back the kid, his kid. Danny was almost solid now. His white hair floated as he threw back his head in laughter at something Robin had said.

“Yeah… yeah I am.”

---

AN: So. So. This has gotten away from me. I blame Moku. So much blame. I can't promise I'll continue it but there is... there is a good bit of plotting TO continue it. It would be after I get done with City Pigeons Bleed Green though, as that's my current family feels fic.

If it gets continued we have a John/Bruce tired dads with issues slow burn fuck buddies to lovers, Danny and Dick being friends (and family), canon divergence, Tim joins the Bat family early, Bats with magic (and the world should fear them), and Alfred's judgemental eyebrow.

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you've loved before part seven

author's note: WHEW okay i am so sorry it took five days short of a year to finish this. what a wild ride it has been! i just wanted to shout out my dear friend @dani746 who has cheered me on (and roasted me) many times throughout this process. i probably wouldn't have finished this without you. i also want to shout out my other friend @thewintersoldierdisaster who helped me process so much of this part to get it written. you both are the best and i owe you both big time! i also owe all of you who have read and reblogged and replied and liked this series over the last year and a half, you have been so amazing! anyway, here's part seven! (and not to worry, while this is the last part of the series, i will be writing more about mama bear and mat).

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, fear of falling in love, anxiety

day seventy-one

you arrived at sydney and matt's in thirty minutes. it probably would've taken less time had traffic not been absolutely abhorrent due to the holiday.

you thanked the driver and paid before grabbing your bag and walking out into the cold air.

in your rush, you forgot a jacket.

you stumbled up the martin's front steps, and dialed sydney's number, pointedly ignoring the five missed calls and eleven texts from mat.

"hello?" thank god sydney sounded awake.

"hey," you exhaled. "can you let me in? i need a place to stay for tonight."

you could hear her mumble something to her husband. and the door was opened thirty seconds later.

matt ushered you in without a word. sydney met you in the foyer with a crease between her brows at the sight of your jacket-less frame and the bag in your hands.

"what happened?" she asked as she led you to the living room and sat you down on a couch. a ringtone sounded and when you turned around matt was answering his phone.

your focus shifted to matt who was looking straight at you. "hey barzy," he said. "yeah, she's here." he nodded, but his eyes were focused on you and sydney. "she got here just a minute ago. no she doesn't have a jacket. syd's with her now." matt hummed into the phone. "we'll drive her to the airport tomorrow, don't worry about it."

you wanted to bury yourself into the pillows. you wanted the couch to swallow you whole.

you didn't hear the end of the conversation matt had on the phone. to be quite frank, you weren't sure you wanted to hear it at all.

matt joined you and syd on the sectional. he threw an arm around the back of the couch and the very sight of it made you sick. you loved them together, you did, that wasn't your problem.

it just reminded you how jason never did anything close to that.

or more importantly (and maybe this was your bigger concern): your shoulders felt cold without mat's arm wrapped around them.

"what happened?" matt asked. and you had to give it to him, you appreciated the "no bullshit" approach he was taking, even if you felt a little attacked.

you opened and closed your mouth repeatedly, but no words came out.

"i'm asking because barzy sounded like he was two seconds away from a full blown panic attack."

you could feel your ears getting hot. your cheeks were getting warm. you wanted to throw up.

"we kissed," you mumbled.

the martins blinked, and you had to give credit where credit was due, sydney didn't shout "i told you so." matt, though, seemed to recognize that the conversation was probably best had between you and sydney because he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and walked out of the room.

sydney nodded and cocked her head to the side. "why did you run?" she asked.

you broke eye contact to look at your hands which were furiously picking at your cuticles. you could see her move closer, leaning forward on her elbows.

sydney said your name quietly. "what happened? did he overstep a boundary? i can get matt to say something to him--"

"i kissed him," you admitted, still not looking up. "i kissed him and freaked out and ran."

“why?”

you exhaled and continued picking at your fingers. "jason said some shit that just got under my skin and now i can't stop thinking about it."

sydney waited for a moment before she spoke again. "what did he say?"

you couldn't see, and it took you a minute to realize that it was because your eyes were blurring with tears. it felt pathetic to sniffle and wallow when it was your fault.

it was all your fault.

"no it's not, honey," sydney said, sounding closer than she did a few minutes ago. you didn't even realize you had said anything. "what did your ex say to you?"

"he said mat would eventually get bored of me. whether that meant just in general or if we slept together."

"you know that's not true, right?"

you halfheartedly shrugged.

sydney was beside you now. she placed her hand on your knee and squeezed. "honey, it's not true. jason treated you like shit, if the one interaction i saw the two of you have was any indication." when you didn't reply, she sighed. "we don't have to talk about it anymore. let's get the guest room set up so you can get some sleep."

it took all of ten minutes for the guest room to be ready. you were curled into the bed moments later.

you found yourself staring at the ceiling wondering how you could've ruined your life so quickly.

you shouldn't have kissed him.

god what were you thinking.

at a professional level, he was your boss, at a technical level, he was a roommate and also—

the best guy you'd ever known.

not that it mattered at the end of the day. you kissed him and ruined any sort of relationship, professional or platonic, you could've had. you might not have been a stem girly, might not be a rocket scientist, but even you could knew that it didn't matter if the stars aligned—

there was no way mat barzal was in love with you.

so you cried yourself to sleep and dreamt of the hazel eyes that had enraptured your heart.

day seventy-two

matt drove you to the airport and thankfully said nothing about your puffy eyes and messy hair. it was safe to say you were restless all night, barely feeling like you slept at all when your alarm went off.

“do you need someone to pick you up when you get back into town?” matt asked as jfk airport approached.

you hesitated. “i hadn't thought that far ahead,” you admitted. “mat was supposed to pick me up, but i don't think he'll want to see me.” not after you ruined everything.

matt nodded. “text syd and let her know when your flight gets into town and we’ll figure something out. if not us, then i’m sure the lees can help.”

when he pulled up to the airport, you gave him a grateful smile and a small thanks before grabbing your personal item and carry on and getting out of his suv. for a brief second, you contemplated jumping back in his car and begging matt to take you back to mat and ella, but you forced your legs to carry you into the airport, telling yourself your mother would be upset if you missed your flight.

so you walked through the airport, through tsa, to your gate, onto the plane, like a zombie. you couldn't stop imagining the way mat’s lips felt against yours, couldn't stop hearing jason’s words in your head like a broken record.

and when your plane took off, you imagined and wondered how mat did it all the time. your stomach dropped as you increased in elevation. your heart lurched when you looked at your lock screen, a photo of the three of you after one of his games.

you should change it, but you loved that little girl and that photo was one time of many recent memories where you felt like you truly belonged.

you locked your phone to keep yourself from thinking about it too much.

your mom met you in your hometown’s airport with a cheesy poster with your baby pictures plastered all over it. she squealed and shoved the poster at your father in favor of nearly tackling you to the ground. you could've cried in her arms, the weight of the last few months catching up to you. for all your parents’ faults, of which there were many, it felt good to be with them again.

your mom pulled back and gave you a watery smile. her hands framed your cheeks as she pulled your head down to place a kiss in your hair. “we've missed you, sweetheart,” she said. “christmas wasn’t christmas without you.”

“missed you too, mom.”

your dad scooped up your carry on and led you to the beat up suv he'd had since you were a sophomore in high school.

the backseat felt familiar like wearing your dad’s old college t-shirt, like fitting into something you'd previously forgotten about. your parents recapped the last few months to you, as they told you about the family drama and what happened at christmas. you were only half listening, doing your best to keep up when you left your heart and mind in new york. you glanced at your parents, married for thirty years, been through their own fair share of struggles. you passively wondered if there was ever this crippling fear in their chests at the idea of loving someone else, or of even falling in love and the enormity of it.

you knew logistically you weren't the first person to fear the act of falling, but you felt so alone in it.

wasn't it crazy? humans had been falling in love for ages and yet you felt completely isolated in this feeling. you weren't the first woman to fall in love with her boss, with a single father, with an athlete. you probably weren't the first to fall in love with a man who was all of the above—

but god it felt like it.

the entire experience felt confining. you knew there were girls dating famous athletes, but they were models, or rich, or childhood sweethearts, or not as mentally fucked up as you currently felt. you were never gonna be sydney or grace or sofia or any of the other nice girls you’d met. you were a nanny, a girl who chose a useless major in a highly competitive city who couldn't handle the stress of a starbucks in new york city at 8am. then you’d gone and kissed mat and consequently felt lighter than you had in the weeks it’d been since you found out your ex cheated on you with the girl you lived with.

but as soon as it ended, you remembered seeing the rangers jersey discarded on your living room floor. you remembered the way your stomach dropped to your toes, how you wanted so badly to pretend it wasn’t happening, but the noises from your roommate’s bedroom were evidence enough.

the writing was in the stars, it was in the fucking clouds, on the fucking wall. every man you'd had been with prior, you'd realized, treated you like garbage. your high school boyfriend never texted or called you back at a reasonable time. your sophomore year of college boyfriend never fully committed, saying he was too busy during football season.

then there was jason who didn’t really show red flags until you started working for mat.

he’ll get bored of you.

“honey? you okay? you went quiet for a second.”

your mom’s voice snapped you out of whatever that mental spiral was.

you gave her your best convincing smile and nodded. “just thinking.”

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” your dad asked. “jack? joseph?”

“jason?” you gritted out through your painfully tight smile.

your dad snapped and smiled. “that’s his name. how is he?”

“i wouldn’t know, we’re not together anymore,” you mumbled just loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough for it to echo in your brain.

the car went silent, even as the radio crackled out some random eighties bop from when your parents were in college.

“are you okay?” your mom asked.

“i’m fine.”

day seventy-three

your parents didn't make you celebrate christmas as soon as you got into town. they, thankfully, waited a day before calling your entire extended family over to watch you open presents alone. you smiled and thanked each member for their corresponding present. you dutifully laughed at every joke and sipped at your glass of red wine in hopes that the acidity would distract you from heavier things.

like the texts from sydney asking if you were alright.

or the video from mat of ella playing with the stuffed hippo you got her. you'd watched it ten times just to hear her laugh that she definitely inherited from his childlike cackle. you couldn't help but see the scrunched up face of ella’s that was a carbon copy of her father’s. but even after all that, you still didn't have the heart to reply. what would you even say?

“aw she’s so cute! also sorry i kissed you and ran away?”

you were on your fourteenth watch of the video when he texted again.

mat: let me know when your flight is coming back into town, we’ll pick you up.

you locked your phone and took a sip of your wine. and when your cousin did a cartwheel in the middle of the living room and nearly knocked over the christmas tree? you smiled politely while her parents chided her while you tried to forget the similar stories mat’s parents told you about his childhood.

as the family members cleared out, you helped your parents clean up the common areas. you were in the kitchen with your mom loading the dishwasher when she asked the question you were dreading.

“when are you going back to new york?”

your hands nearly dropped the plate you were holding, but you recovered quickly. “i have to be back before the isles’ next roadie.” a non answer, but you didn't feel like pulling out your calendar and counting the days to see how close you were to facing the mess you left on the island.

“are you staying for new year’s?”

you didn't need to look at your calendar to know you'd already been gone for too long. you'd memorized mat’s schedule at the beginning of the season when you started working for him. his roadie started on new year’s eve.

when you did the dreaded math, you had maximum two days left before you had to head back and take care of ella like nothing had happened.

“i can’t, mat has a road trip that starts on new year’s eve.” you couldn't even look at her. “i’m sorry, mom.”

but she shrugged your apology off and hugged you from behind with a tight grip. “don't apologize, baby. i just wish you'd tell us what's going on.”

“there’s nothing going on—”

your mother said your name, a cross between gentle and chastising. “i was born at night, but not last night. i know you, i know when something’s wrong. if you don't want to talk about it, that’s fine. you're an adult. but don't lie and say you're okay.”

you nodded but didn't offer up any more information.

“when you're ready,” she said, rubbing your back. “when you're ready to talk, i’m here to listen.” your mom pressed a kiss to your cheek, squeezed your shoulders, and walked out of the kitsch, leaving you to gaze out the window over the sink.

day seventy-five

sydney picked you up from the airport at noon with a certain smile on her face that you couldn't place. the backseat was devoid of her kids, so you assumed they were with the nanny or matt was home already with the kids.

she did most of the talking, which you were thankful for. you still felt unsettled back on the island so soon. too soon, if anyone asked. there was nothing more that you wanted than to go back home and hide under the covers in your childhood bedroom, pretending that your biggest fears were monsters in the shapes of shadows from your closet doors.

you were only halfway paying attention. your thoughts were monopolized by the last memories you had before going to your parents’ house. the sound of ella’s laugh when she opened your gift, the warmth in your chest at the anders and grace’s christmas party because you felt so welcomed in by people you'd only known for a few months, the overwhelming unnamable emotion in your stomach at the photo album mat gave you, the capsizing undertow feeling of being seen and known, how mat’s lips felt against your own like every good thing you’d ever done was to make sure you deserved that moment.

you were floating in your own thought bubbles when sydney parked her car in the garage. your eyes didn't wander to the car parked in the street, or the reason why she brought you to her place instead of the one you shared with mat.

you weren’t thinking of any of that until you heard his laugh from the living room.

but your feet were already carrying you there, following sydney diligently like you always did. you stood there in the entrance of the living room, your bag still wheeled behind you.

he'd robbed you of all oxygen.

it was like a spotlight was on him and the nearly eleven month old baby in his arms. a closer look showed that ella was barely holding her eyes open, but she was clinging to her hippo like her life depended on it. 

she looked so small, curled into mat’s chest, but so big compared to when you first met her.

her father cheering loudly when he scored on marty, had her flinching awake. her brown eyes opened wide and by some act of grace (or maybe torture on your part) she made eye contact with you and whined. ella reached her hands out for you.

and who were you to deny her?

you ignored the feeling of his eyes on your face, ignored the way his mouth opened in your peripheral vision. instead, you picked up ella and bounced her as she tucked her head under your chin, ignoring the hazel eyes that were locked on your face.

“you're back,” were the first words mat said to you since you left his apartment that night. “how was your trip?”

you fussed over ella in your arms to keep him from seeing how your hands shook around him and vaguely registered that marty had paused the game. “it was fine,” you said. “how long did your family stay in town?”

“they left yesterday, told me to tell you goodbye.”

you nodded, unable to form any other words to keep the conversation going, so you walked towards the kitchen in hopes sydney would follow. she did, thankfully, and soon enough the sound of chel echoed through the downstairs.

“what was that?” sydney whispered. “you haven't seen him in a few days and that’s all you have to say?”

“what did you want me to say? ‘sorry i kissed you and ran away. hope your holiday was fun?’”

sydney sighed through her nose and placed her hands on her hips. “you’re gonna have to talk about it eventually.”

“and i get that, but i don’t want an audience when we talk about it.”

she nodded and looked to the side. “i just hate to see you two like this.”

“like what?”

“like you're strangers.”

a cleared throat kept you from replying, but it did have you turning your head to see mat leaned against the entryway of the kitchen. “i don’t mean to rush you, but i think we need to get ella home so she's in her crib for at least a portion of her nap.”

quickly you nodded and bid goodbye to sydney and, at the door, you smiled at marty as he opened the front door. mat had his hand on your suitcase and was already carrying it outside to his car like it weighed nothing, which it certainly was not light because you had to sit on it with your parents’ obese cat in your lap while your mom zipped it up.

mat loaded your suitcase, you strapped his child in her car seat. he got in the driver’s seat while you slid into shotgun.

and neither of you said a word.

not until you got about five minutes into the drive. it was almost like mat couldn't handle the quiet anymore. “we don’t have to talk about it after this, but i think we should at least acknowledge what happened, right?”

“we don't have to acknowledge it at all, really. it was unprofessional and crossed too many boundaries. i think it’s best if we just forget about it.”

you were too busy staring out the window, watching the buildings pass to see something like hurt flash in mat’s eyes. “why? why do we have to forget it?”

he will get bored of you.

you shook your head and continued to look out the window.

“no, i think i deserve an answer, a reason why you ran out of our apartment on christmas and didn’t say anything.”

“it’s nothing, mat.”

“it’s something if you won't even look at me.” he sighed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. judging by the white color of his knuckles, you guessed he'd only tightened his hold. “i just—” he cut himself off with a sigh and rubbed at his jaw with one hand. “do you still want to look after ella? because if you don't, i’ll need some time to find someone else—”

you flinched into the passenger window. “why would you think i wouldn't want to watch her?”

mat shrugged. “i don't know, you don't want to seem to be around me and considering she's my daughter, i just figured.”

“as long as you're okay with it, i’d like to keep nannying. but if you want me to find another place to stay—”

“don't worry about it, it won't be a problem.”

you nodded but didn't say a word for the rest of the ride home. not to worry though, neither did mat.

when you finally got back to the apartment, you grabbed your suitcase while he maneuvered ella out of her car seat and into his arms. neither of you spoke, not even as you went your separate ways as you got into the apartment. you split in the hallway with him going into ella’s nursery and you into your room.

you at least waited to hear the door shut behind you before your shoulders slumped and tears pricked at your eyes.

he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored—

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone—

someone else. someone else. someone else. someone else—

a knock on the door startled you enough that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the noise that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

you managed to clear your throat and squeak out a “mhm.” you didn't hear any movement, probably mat wondering if he should press the issue, but after a few moments, you could hear feet padding back down the hallway.

you should’ve unpacked, you should’ve cleaned your room from how you left it. you should’ve done a lot of things. but you took a shower where you cried the entire time. then you got in bed and wished you were in your parents’ house so you could smell the slightly burned sugar cookies your mom made and hear your dad’s disgruntled sighs from the living room when his football team didn't play well.

now you were sitting in a cold city that you used to adore, but it felt like the love had evaporated once you were shown how unlovable you were. jason cheated, mat suggested a replacement, maybe that’s all you were. maybe you were just the ikea couch that moved from apartment to apartment only to be replaced with a crate and barrel sofa when the owner got a house.

there was no telling how long time passed before mat knocked again. “tito’s coming over, did you want anything? he’s offering to pick something up.”

you cleared your throat yet again before speaking. “no, no i’m good.”

“you sure? he's getting pizza from borelli’s.”

your stomach growled but you ignored it. “i’m sure, thanks mat.”

the footsteps retreated, leaving you to your thoughts.

it wasn’t long before ella woke up, forcing you to leave your little cave you called a bedroom. she smiled when she saw you, all her four little baby teeth proudly on display. you pulled her out of her sleep sack and changed her diaper, all while her legs and arms were flapping around happily.

“did you have a good nap, ella bean?” she didn't say any intelligible words, mostly just babble, but you smiled anyway. “i bet, baby girl. do you wanna go see dada and uncle tito?”

her deep brown eyes lit up. her eyes were probably the only thing she got from her mom considering she was a carbon copy of mat.

once her diaper was changed, you buttoned her onesie and pulled her little pants back on before you carried her into the living room.

both mat and tito’s eyes lit up when they saw her. almost immediately, ella started kicking her legs and pushing away from you to go to her dad. instead of bringing her straight to mat, you let her down on the floor and watched as she crawled her way to him.

she’d gotten much faster in your absence, even if it was only for a few days. and to your joy, and maybe a little tweak of sadness, she pulled herself up on mat’s knees where he pulled her into his lap.

“how was practice?” you asked.

mat blinked at you. “we didn’t come from practice...”

“i know,” you replied. “but i didn't get to ask you earlier this morning, so i’m asking now.”

tito’s eyes bounce back and forth from you and mat, almost like he’s unsure of what to do.

mat shrugged. “it was fine, just a lot of bag skating.”

and given their performance a few nights ago, that wasn’t completely surprising.

you nodded and walked into the kitchen when the tension became too much. you gripped the cold counter and took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time—

“you okay?”

your eyes shot open and you spun around to see beau standing in the kitchen with a furrow between his brows.

“y-yeah, why?”

he jerked a thumb over his shoulder where mat was playing with ella on the living room floor, or at least you assumed he was, you couldn't see him from where you were standing. “you're joking, right? you seriously don’t know why? it’s been almost three months and i’ve never heard you talk to each other that way.”

“like what?”

“short.” when you said nothing, he continued. “what’s going on?”

“you mean he didn't tell you?”

“tell me what? that you kissed him and ran away and didn't speak to him while you were gone? yeah, he told me that. didn't tell me anything else though.”

beau wasn’t being cruel, you knew that. he was simply narrating what you had done in a matter of fact manner.

so why did it feel like someone was twisting a knife in your chest?

he sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, i’m not judging you, i just hate to see you both acting this way.”

“acting like what?”

“strangers. or maybe worse than strangers.”

 “what could be worse than strangers?”

“estranged lovers.”

a scoff left your lips before you could stop it. “one kiss hardly makes us estranged lovers.”

“no but it does make you two act like you don’t know how to be around each other.”

you refused to look at him, choosing instead to study the grain of the marble countertop. “he’s my boss, tito. i shouldn't have done it.”

he fixed you with a look you couldn't quite interpret. maybe it was similar to one sydney gave winnie after she asked her mom a million questions when none of them made sense and had no obvious connection between them. “you're lying to yourself if you think that’s all you are to him, if that’s all he is to you.”

you shrugged your shoulders. “that’s all we can be.”

“says who?”

no one, no one but you. you and that cruel voice in your head that sounds a lot like your ex. “we just can’t.”

“maybe you just need to be proven wrong. allow him to prove you wrong.”

day seventy-seven

“are you still coming to the game tonight?” mat called from his room while you sat in the living room watching ella play with the stacking cups before she got mad and knocked them over.

to say things had returned to normal would be a lie, but you and mat were good at pretending the elephant wasn’t in the room or even in the apartment building. “i’m not sure,” you replied loud enough for him to hear. “ella’s been kinda cranky all day, hasn’t napped well.”

on cue, ella knocked down the cups and screamed bloody murder. you cringed almost immediately. as soon as the scream was over, you could hear mat’s sigh from his bedroom. his voice sounded closer when he spoke again. “you think she’s getting sick?”

you glanced up and saw mat walking through the doorway. in his suit, he still managed to squat next to you. you quickly averted your eyes instead of staring at his thighs. “i don't know, she doesn’t have a fever, she could be teething or it could just be a sleep regression. all three are possible.”

mat leaned in and ruffled the hair on ella’s head. any attitude or frustration she had evaporated the second she saw her dad. she lifted her arms and babbled until he picked her up. he stood up to his full height and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “does she feel warm to you?

you stood and replaced his hand with yours. you hummed. “maybe a little, but it’s also a little warm in here.”

mat nodded before he kissed the top of ella’s head. “just let me know if you plan on coming.”

“we’ll be there,” you said before you could stop yourself.

if you were a painter, you'd capture the look of mild surprise on mat’s face because it was equal parts endearing and handsome, you couldn't describe it in just words. “really?”

“yeah,” you said, a small smile on your face. “you’ll need your number one fans there.” and even if you doubted your permanence in his life, there was no doubt in your mind where he ranked in yours. “i mean,” you babbled. “aside from your parents and liana.”

mat chuckled a little. “you definitely rank higher than liana. you don't roast me as much as she does.”

“yeah well, she knows more about hockey than i do.”

his eyes looked into yours and you felt the vulnerability of being seen, of being observed through a microscope.

he’ll get bored of you—

“you should know that doesn't matter to me, it’s the fact that you show up.”

“i’ll keep showing up then,” you smiled. “even if i have no idea what’s going on.”

his smile matched your own. “i’ll come home and explain it to you then.”

you probably could’ve stared at him for eternity, his floppy hair and hazel eyes but ella screamed and wriggled around until mat put her back down on the floor, ending whatever moment you thought you were having.

he glanced at his wrist watch and cursed. “i gotta go or i’ll be late, you have the tickets right?”

“they're on my phone, you sent them yesterday.”

he nodded looking at you then ella, then back at you. “i’ll see you later, then. text me if something changes, i’ll check between periods.”

“you really shouldn't—”

“but i’m going to anyway!” he exclaimed before shutting the door behind him.

ella got a kick out of the uber ride to ubs, even from the comfort of her car seat. the driver was kind enough to play gracie’s corner, which was ella’s new musical obsession. she was giddy for once (because she’d been cranky all day) and didn't even protest when you put the headphones on her head as you entered the noisy arena.

you made your way down to the glass where sydney and grace were waiting with their kids. while it wasn’t your first time at a game with ella, it was your first time this close to the ice. mat had sent you tickets because the wags didn't rent a suite out for the game this time. which, in all honesty, was more than fine with you, experiencing a live game close up sounded more than fun.

the boys came out skating at a pace you couldn't dream of replicating. your eyes were as wide as ella’s as you both looked around, stunned.

“you okay?” sydney chuckled. “you look like a deer in headlights.”

you nodded. “they're just...really fast.”

grace and sydney laughed but nodded along with you.

after the initial lap of skating, matt and anders came over to say hi to their kids and wives. matt had a knowing look in his eye and skated away momentarily. maybe you were a little dumb for being surprised when mat, your mat (but not really) came up to the boards grinning ear to ear. 

ella, by an act of god, recognized him even with his helmet on (not that it covered his whole face, but you'd seen videos of babies freaking out when their dads shave so you weren't sure how she would react). she was flapping her arms and squealing, a nice change from the ear piercing scream she’d been giving you all afternoon.

you couldn't really hear what mat was saying, but you saw the happiness in his eyes, the matching grin he shared with his daughter. you didn't even realize you were staring at him until his eyes met yours. he gave you another award winning smile before grabbing a puck and tossing it over for a girl a few seats away from you.

before you realized the time, mat skated away from you so he could finish warming up. that, of course, didn't stop him from looking over in your general direction to look at ella who was enraptured by the entire experience.

the buzzer sounded shortly after and the game started.

ella made it about seventeen minutes into the first period before deciding she’d had enough. smiling apologetically to the other girls, you said, “sorry, the queen has decided it’s time for bed.”

“how're you getting home?” syd asked.

“uber,” you said.

“text us when you get home,” grace said.

you nodded and grabbed your things and placed ella in her car seat before heading up the numerous stairs to the lobby area of the arena. you sent a text to mat after you ordered your uber but before you walked outside, not wanting to stand out in the cold longer than you had to.

you: 

sorry to miss the game! the queen has said she’s had enough. we’re about to get a taxi.

you didn't expect him to reply soon. you managed to get an uber and head back to your shared apartment when you got a text back. 

mat:

call me when you get home.

before you could stop yourself, you furrowed your brows and replied.

you:

what if you’re in the game?

his reply was immediate.

mat:

call anyway, if i have time during the second intermission, i’ll call back. if not, i’ll see you at home.

as if on instinct, you smiled at your phone. you didn't even realize the uber arrived at your apartment building until the driver threw the car in park.

“thank you,” you said as you climbed out of the car and unhooked ella’s car seat.

the first thing you did upon entering the apartment was put ella and her car seat on the floor. the second was pull out your phone and call mat like he asked you to. it rang twice before your heard his voice on the other line.

“you home?”

you blinked. “you actually picked up?

he made a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “you're surprised?”

“you have a game to focus on.”

“this isn’t a lengthy conversation. i just needed to know that you got home alright.”

“well we’re home. you can stop stressing about us and go win a game instead.”

he cackled through the phone right before he said a quick bye and hung up.

you squatted down to ella’s eye level. she was dozing off in the car seat and you were already not looking forward to the tantrum she’d throw as you tried to get her out and into pajamas. a tired baby barzy was a cranky baby barzy.

just as expected, she started crying and rubbing her eyes when you picked her up. she cried even as you changed her diaper and into her pajamas. she cried through chicka chicka boom boom and the little blue truck which she usually loved. she cried up until the moment you put her in her sleep sack and into her crib.

once she was down, you came back into the living room and started cleaning up to the sound of mat’s game on the television. you still weren't an expert on hockey, but you did at least try to understand what was going on. the important thing was that the isles were winning by a goal.

mat didn't get home until closer to midnight. you were still up, watching carpet cleaning videos on your phone. maybe you should've done something more productive, like cracking open one of the fifty books stacked in piles in your room, but after all the screaming from ella, you just wanted to see a dirty carpet turn white.

“you're still up?” he asked, a slight note of surprise in his voice as he walked through the door.

you shrugged. “was waiting for my hockey debrief.” you watched as he sat his hockey back next to the door and ran a hand down his face. “congrats on the win, by the way.”

he crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa next to you and groaned. “i can’t even think about winning when my body hurts.”

“that’s what happens when you can't stay on your feet for more than half a shift.”

he chuckled a little. “not you too, i get enough shit from the guys.”

“if you want it to stop, you should stop falling down.”

abruptly, mat turned to you. “can you even skate?”

“no, but you can. you even get paid to do so. which is why it’s so surprising that you can’t stay on your feet.” he rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. “what?” you smiled back. “what is it?”

“nothing,” he said. “i’m just glad we’re cool again.”

day eighty-nine

you felt like a zombie, simply put. ella was eleven months old and shouldn't be going through a sleep regression, yet she was up on and off all night. you knew that it was because she’d learned a new skill, one you couldn't wait to show mat when he got home.

part of you was nervous that he would be upset that he wasn't there for it. last roadie, he came home to ella cruising along furniture and taking steps while she pushed her walker or held your hands.

it took him two days to come to terms with it.

so you sat on the couch and watched ella play in the ball pit playpen with her stuffed hippo. any other time, you might have cleaned up after her, picking up the balls she’d thrown out (because that was yet another thing she’d learned how to do), but you were doing your best to keep your eyes open.

it was the rattling of the doorknob that had you and ella perking up and looking towards the doorway. you could hear fumbling and what you assumed was mat’s hockey bag dropping to the ground.

despite that, it was still a moment or two before you saw mat walk into the living room with a....iced latte in hand?

you furrowed your brows. “what—”

“dada!” ella screamed, flapping her arm that wasn't holding her hippo, doing her best to scramble to her feet without letting go of her stuffie.

mat nearly dropped everything in his hands, including the coffee, which you were still hung up on, because he drank black coffee, not whatever light colored drink that was in his left hand.

“did she—?” he looked to you, hazel eyes wide as the sun. “did she say—”

“dada dada dada dada,” ella kept babbling, her voice only getting happier the closer he came to her.

“hey sweet girl,” he cooed, bending down and scooping her up with one arm. his voice sounded thick, and when you glanced at his face, his eyes looked a little shiny. “i missed you. did you keep mama bear up all night?”

“how did you know—”

“you replied to my text at 2am. you're usually asleep before midnight.” he said it so casually that you almost didn't clock the deeper meaning behind his words. he didn't even look at you, his gaze solely focused on his daughter. “how long has she been saying dada?” he asked.

you smiled. “yesterday, i got it on video. she likes to watch interviews of you sometimes and when i turned an older one on, she said it. i meant to send it to you after it happened, but i figured you'd wanna hear it in person, and if she didn't say it when you walked in, i’d show you the video later.”

“this was much better, thank you,” he said, finally looking you in the eye. then, like a lightbulb went off over his head, he reached his hand out with the iced coffee. “this is for you, figured you'd want coffee after staying up all night.”

you thanked him and hesitantly, took a sip. pleasantly surprised was a phrase you weren't used to using, especially when it came to your coffee order. there were seldom people in your life who could remember how much sugar, cream, and syrup that you liked in your coffee.

jason never remembered, said it was too complicated.

so when you took a sip and it was the exact flavor profile you'd grown accustomed to, you almost started crying.

“did i get it right?” he asked. “i wrote it down in my phone from a month ago just in case. if it’s wrong, ella and i can go grab another one—”

but your smile cut off any rambling left. “it’s perfect. how was your roadie?”

day ninety-two

mat was gracious enough to lend you his car for the day. he didn't have a game, just a morning skate which meant you didn't have to uber to storytime at the library.

it did mean, however, that you had to go pick him up because tito was busy after practice.

you were anxious initially because you had no idea how you'd get into the practice facility, and you weren’t keen on keeping the car running in this economy. thankfully, right as you were walking towards the building, dobson was walking out. he smiled and said a quiet good morning while he held the door for you and ella.

“barzy’s still on the ice,” he said. “should be finishing up any minute.”

“still? is it a punishment?”

dobson shrugged. “i think he's just trying to tighten up his shot.” he cleared his throat. “do you know how to get to the rink?”

you shrugged. “i'm sure i can figure it out.”

which you did, it was pretty self explanatory, though the signage definitely helped. you walked out to the rink and couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw mat zooming around at a ridiculous speed. mesmerized was the only word you could think to use to describe both you and ella. both your heads followed him around the rink.

which meant you had the perfect view of mat absolutely eating it and slamming into the boards behind the goal.

the laugh that burst from your mouth caught you off guard. given how mat flinched, you would say it caught him off guard too.

but you couldn't help it, the sight of him flailing and slamming into the boards had tears forming in your eyes from the sheer force of your laughter.

“oh my god,” you huffed out between laughs. “you're a professional!” you didn't need to say anymore, he knew what you were implying.

mat stuttered out your name. “y—you’re here?”

“i told you i’d pick you up, mat,” you got out through giggles. you walked closer to the ice, stopping at the gate. he hadn't gotten up off the ice, his legs were spread as he sat there. you couldn't place why, but it was still insanely funny to you. as you kept laughing, ella started too, letting out a loud baby cackle that echoed across the ice.

that seemed to kick mat into gear because he stood up and skated towards the two of you, a dopey smile on his face. you moved ella off your hip and in front of your body, holding her back against your chest so she could fully face mat.

“hey ella bean,” he smiled. he tossed his stick over the boards by the bench and reached for her.

“dada dada dada—” as she kept giggling and babbling, you watched as the smile on mat’s face got wider and wider.

you felt your heart lurch into your throat as mat took her out on the ice and started skating. “are you sure that’s safe?” you called out.

mat’s scoff echoed throughout the rink. “i’m a professional.”

“a professional at ending up on your ass.”

while supporting ella with one arm, mat flipped you off with the other hand as he skated around at a moderate pace. something between a scoff and a laugh burst from your mouth like the fireworks in that one katy perry music video.

mat’s head snapped to look at you, an expression on his face that you couldn't place, you'd never seen it before. he skated back to you, with ella still giggling.

“what?” you asked. “why're you looking at me like that?”

he shrugged. “i just like your laugh, is all. you should do it more.”

feeling shy, you looked down at your nails, you really needed to get a manicure done. “haven’t had much to laugh about lately.” the anxiety you had earlier didn't miraculously disappear after your conversation with beau, but up until this moment, you hadn't realized how quiet your mind had been.

a few weeks ago, it was consumed with jason’s words.

now you couldn't stop thinking about mat.

“well, i’ll gladly bust my ass over and over if you keep laughing like that.”

you couldn't help yourself, another laugh forced its way out of your mouth as you looked at him.

day one hundred and one

deep down in your bones, you could feel the exhaustion from yesterday seeping into today. it was a good exhaustion, though. one caused by brunch with grace, sydney, and alexa, a playdate with sofia and romanov’s daughter, deep cleaning the apartment while ella napped, and a nice walk in the park before mat’s game. 

he got home last night after a short roadie. it was a successful trip, with them winning more than they lost. you knew ella would be happy to see him when he woke up, all she talked about was “dada,” though that just might be the excitement of saying her favorite and only word.

for now, though, it was just you and ella sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. well, you were eating your cereal, she was spreading avocado around on her high chair. still, she was eating her scrambled eggs, so you couldn't really complain.

the two of you had moved into the living room with ella playing with her hippo and building blocks while you watched the newest episode of abbott elementary.

“is this a new one?” you jumped at the sound of mat’s morning voice and ignored the sensation in your stomach when you saw him rubbing at his eyes, bed head and all. 

“huh?”

mat opened his mouth, but at the sound of her father’s voice, ella turned around and screamed before crawling towards him. he didn't even hesitate to scoop her up and keep her cradled between his left arm and his chest.

“i said,” he started. “is this a new episode? i haven't seen this one yet.”

you blinked. “aren't they all new episodes to you?”

“what do you mean?”

did he hit his head or something? “mat, i've never seen you watch a single episode of anything that wasn't hockey highlights or espn...”

he shrugged. “that's because you're not with me on my roadies.”

it was your turn to ask, “what do you mean?”

mat rounded the couch and plopped down next to you, close enough to not be awkwardly apart but far enough that his leg wasn't touching yours, regardless of how much you wanted him to. “i started watching abbott on the road.”

“why would you do that?”

the tips of his ears turned pink. maybe it was warm in the apartment because the idea that you could cause him to blush wasn't something you were able to comprehend at eight in the morning. “you said you loved the show, i wanted to see what the hype was about.”

“you watched it because i told you about it?” it didn't make sense, no one had ever taken your recommendations seriously enough.

he wouldn't make eye contact with you. “beau kept falling asleep and i was tired of watching film and it popped up and you thought it was good so...”

you smiled to ease the anxiety on his face. “how far did you get?”

“i’m all caught up, except for this episode. i caught up on the roadie.”

“well,” you started. “you’re more than welcome to join us. if you want breakfast, i can pause it and wait.” but you remembered he was a professional hockey player, he probably had somewhere to be. “oh wait, when do you have to be at the rink?”

he checked his phone. “it’s not for a few hours because we got in so late. i’m yours in the meantime.”

you quickly turned your attention back to the screen so he couldn't see the flush on your face.

day one hundred and nine

it was a bad brain day. you couldn't explain it. you woke up and your mood soured. ella only marginally improved it, not even her giggles and smiles, as she stood in her crib babbling as you walked towards her, could fully fix your mood.

there was no rhyme or reason for it either.

well—

that wasn’t completely true.

you'd slept like shit last night. no twenty something should still be having nightmares, god you felt embarrassed just saying the word. but your brain didn't care about shoulds, shouldn’ts, and age because you woke up pouring sweat after jason berated you for what felt like hours.

he’ll get bored of you ringing in your head like church bells on sunday.

it was made worse when, to soothe the anxiety creeping in, you stupidly got on instagram. you should've known better, never in the history of the internet has going on social media improved your mood, especially instagram.

but there you were, staring at the instagram stories of the wags of the isles. pilates, jogs, dinner parties, team events you were too shy to go to. then you went to their feeds, wag jackets and happy families and all the things you wouldn't be a part of. they were rich, had a cool job, a happy nuclear family. and you were what? a nanny? you were a scandal waiting to happen.

he’ll get bored of you turned into it’s just a matter of time until mat finds a replacement. then, because your mind absolutely hated you, it would seem, mat’s own words echoed back to you.

and you knew it was out of context, he’d proven it to you over the last few weeks. but all you could hear was:

i’ll need some time to find someone else.

natalie was jason’s someone else.

who would mat’s be?

which was how you ended up crying into the pan of scrambled eggs. “sorry ella bean,” you managed to get out. “these will be mine, i’ll make you some fresh ones.” you plated the eggs and turned to set them aside on the island behind you, but you weren't expecting mat to be standing there in a white t-shirt and sweats.

no one should look that good in pajamas.

he’ll get bored of you.

“you okay?” and before you could even reply, mat was moving closer. “are you crying? what happened?”

you shook your head. “nothing.”

“it’s not nothing if you're crying into breakfast food.” he was right in front of you now. “c'mon, mama, you can talk to me.”

and you weren't sure why that one word did you in. “that’s not my name,” you huffed out.

“huh?” mat stepped closer and placed his large hands on your arms. “what’re you talking about—”

you stepped back into the counter, trying to get out of his hold. “‘mama’ isn’t my name. i’m not ella’s mom. i’m no one’s mom.”

his brows pulled together, his lips turned down into a frown. “i wasn’t asking you to be her mom, if you want me to find—”

“someone else, right?” you said. “you're just waiting to find someone else? everyone always is.” and it just burst from you. like it had been bubbling for twenty something years and this was the release. “i'm never enough for anyone. was i just a placeholder until she got a real mom? i can be a nanny but nothing more, right?”

“whoa, where is this coming from?” mat cut in, immediately breaking up whatever tirade you were going on. “who’s telling you these things?”

you wanted to scream. “you are! you told me you'd find someone else—”

“—if you didn't want to do this anymore! you weren't talking to me, and didn't seem very interested in doing this,” he gestured to himself and ella, “—at all.” he sighed, like he was calming himself. “i thought we were doing better these last few weeks. what changed?”

you shook your head. “just had a bad night.”

“please,” he begged. “please just tell me the truth.” another moment passed and you didn't say a word, you wouldn't even look at him. “was it jason?” you shifted on your feet. “what did he say?”

for a moment, you thought about shrugging it off, changing the subject. but you were so tired of bottling up all the negative thoughts, the buzzing bees in your head, you just let it all out. “he said you'd get bored of me,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so upset about it. “that i was just a nanny and once you realized you couldn't fuck me, you'd fire me and kick me out.”

you looked up just in time to see mat’s jaw clench. he opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly. ella squawked from her seat so you quickly grabbed her out of her high chair and started bouncing her. she was probably hungry, but she seemed content just being in your arms.

“you know that's not true, right?” he said after a moment, his voice tight.

“i know i should believe you but the buzzing bees in my head, they...” you didn't finish.

“they what?”

“i’m not like them, mat. i don't have what they have.”

“who? you're not like who?”

“the other wags. you're gonna want someone who goes to games and has a car and can function in life without overthinking every little thing and...” 

he was shaking his head, his hazel eyes searching yours, like he was looking for the words to say, but couldn't find them. “who told you that's what i want?”

“everyone wants that, mat. i’m just—” ella started leaning and reaching for the eggs you cried into so you moved them out of reach.

after a moment of quiet, of ella just contentedly bouncing in your arms, mat spoke. “i didn't watch abbott elementary just because you said it was good, i watched it because i wanted you to talk to me,” he said, not looking away from your face once. “i wanted us to be us again and if watching a show i wasn’t familiar with meant i could talk to you, i would do it.”

his eyes darted away for a moment, a blush covering his face. but he pushed on anyway. “it turned out to be a really funny show so it wasn't like a burden or anything but i would’ve watched it even if it was garbage because it was something that you liked.”

“mat—”

“no, please let me finish.” he took in a deep breath and looked you dead in the eye. “i would've watched the scott’s tots episode of the office on repeat if you told me that's what you wanted to do.”

mat took a step closer to you, just a foot between you now. “beau said you didn’t believe that i could want you, sydney said it was because of something your piece of shit ex said. so i’ve spent the last few weeks trying to prove to you that i love you, that i love you right now, just like this. even with the million buzzing bees in your head telling you i can’t, i’m telling you i can and i do.”

the buzzing in your head stopped. you couldn't hear anything but—

i love you right now, just like this.

“there is no ‘someone else.’ there’s no one else i could want because you're here.”

“you're not gonna get bored of me?” you asked, kinda hating how weak your voice sounded, but not enough to be embarrassed about it. not when mat was standing so close to you, not when he was saying the things he was saying.

he smiled and shook his head. “i'm not gonna get bored of you.”

“even if i feel like a thursday in october?”

he blinked. “i don't know what that means, but yeah. even if you feel like a thursday in october.”

there was a part of you who wanted to believe him, who wanted to kiss him, but you still hesitated.

you hesitated until you thought about how mat called you every night on his first roadie away from ella, how he admitted that he missed her and kept waking up in the middle of the night expecting her to be down the hall, but how he felt safe knowing that she was with you. you thought about how he waited for you to call when you got into your apartment and immediately helped you move out when you found jason and natalie in bed together. you thought about how his family loved you, gave you christmas presents. you thought about the kiss, you thought about how he called matt when you left the apartment, how he asked if you had a jacket, how you were getting to the airport.

you hesitated until you realized he stole all the oxygen from your lungs. how you knew nothing about hockey prior to him and now it felt like your entire life. you thought about the family skate he'd invited you to in a month and how you dreamt of holding his hand in front of everyone. you thought about how nice it would be to wear his name on your back and know that he was yours at the end of the night.

you hesitated until you knew all the girls from his past, all the boys from yours, had led you both to this moment, standing in his kitchen in your pajamas with his child in your arms while he bared his heart to you.

“you promise just as i am right now?”

he nodded. “i promise, baby, i love you yesterday, right now, and tomorrow.”

you smiled, your heart racing, but your mind was quiet, quiet except for four words. “i love you, mat.”

“oh thank god,” he muttered before placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling your lips to his. he kissed you first, but you chased his lips when he tried to pull away.

it was only the need for air and ella’s screaming that pulled you two away from each other. “are you hungry, baby?” you asked.

“did mama not feed you fast enough?” mat teased, grabbing her from you and tossing her in the air a few times to get her laughing.

“mat,” you groaned.

“it’s okay though,” he said looking you dead in the eye, the widest smile you'd seen on his face. ella looked at you too, both of their faces scrunched up in that way you loved. “we love you anyway.”

mat barzal. nearly everyone in new york was obsessed with him, you knew him by the way he kissed you in the morning, when he got home from practice, before you went to bed. you knew him as the man who scooped his daughter up and tickled her just to hear her laugh. you knew him by the strong arms that would wrap around your waist.

you knew him by the way he loved you.

one hundred and nine days later, you loved him.

[runariya]

Regarding CCL: I am curious how Y/N and Jungkook actually got to the point of break up. I mean with Jungkook being on the verge of proposing and Y/N on the verge of break-up seems a rather drastic difference on how they viewed their relationship. I would love a drabble on small (or not so small) things that chipped away on Y/N's confidence and just what led to the decision on her end.

The one where JK and OC go camping

warnings: 18+, MDNI, self doubt, mentions of fears/phobias, (short) explicit sexual scene word count: 1.604

a/n: I'm dealing with a headache that just doesn't want to go away, hope there aren't many grammatical errors, the flow is def off

masterlist

“That’s so cool!”

No, it’s not. How Jungkook can find rafting in this wild stream cool is beyond you—not only because you’re terrified of water, but also because it screams death.

“I don’t know, Jungkook.” Your voice wavers slightly, unable to hide how much you’re freaking out just watching some strangers rafting in the distance, not far from where you’ve parked your camper near the woods.

It’s one thing to go camping with Jungkook—something he’s been begging you to do for years—clearly not realising that you’re also terrified of wild animals attacking you, of getting injured and not being able to get help quickly enough, or getting robbed because you’re in the middle of nowhere with no signal. The list goes on.

But you didn’t have it in you to say no again—not when he was so enthusiastic when you finally agreed. Seeing him happy is all you really want, even if it comes at the expense of your own comfort.

Jungkook’s sparkly eyes meet yours. You’re both setting up camping chairs outside the camper, though the sight of the rushing water has his attention, his eyes fixed on it as soon as he heard the cheers from the people who are obviously as adventurous as your boyfriend.

“It’s definitely fun!”

It’s not. It won’t be for you, that’s for sure. You hate that he’s trying to add even more adventure to your trip, but you should’ve seen it coming.

That’s just how he is—he doesn’t see that when you agree to meet him halfway, he ends up dragging you all the way to his side without realising it.

“I really can’t do this with you, Jungkook. I’m sorry.”

You try not to let his barely hidden disappointment get to you, but with each time, it’s getting harder.

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine, babe. We’re here to camp, right?”

You just nod, unable to meet his eyes because you know it’s not enough for him.

Later that day, after you’ve both eaten by the makeshift fireplace and you’ve convinced yourself that everything’s fine—that Jungkook really isn’t upset about not going rafting—he talks you into a walk through the woods.

Sure, it’s dangerous, but he’s with you, and you trust him, so you agree, clutching his hand like it’s your only lifeline—and maybe it is.

“This is nice.”

“It is,” and you mean it. It’s peaceful, quiet, and not nearly as terrifying as you’d imagined. You know you tend to exaggerate when it comes to the new things Jungkook wants to try, and you’re lucky he’s as patient with you as he is. “You still know how to get back?”

“Yes, babe, don’t worry,” Jungkook smiles down at you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand, soothing you just a little more. And it works. You let your eyes wander over the low-hanging branches, the squirrels chasing each other, and the tree roots you’re careful not to trip over.

“Woah, what the fuck’s that?” Jungkook lets go of your hand, rushing ahead, leaving you scrambling to keep up so you don’t get lost on your own.

Thankfully, the cave opening he’s spotted isn’t far, though the sight of it isn’t any less concerning.

“We should go in there.”

It’s dark—so black it seems like the purest form of the colour you’ve ever seen. You’re certain that if you reached your hand in, it would disappear forever.

Looking at Jungkook’s profile, your heart sinks. Once again, he’s thrilled to try something reckless and new—full of life and excitement that you’re about to crush.

There’s only so much you can do, and wandering into a cave in the middle of nowhere with no one around to help if things go wrong is not one of them.

“No.” You didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, but dear god, this man has to have some sense of self-preservation left in him.

Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his lips forming a surprised “oh” at your tone, which you’ve never used before, but you’re done.

“No?”

“No, Jungkook! We can’t do this! For a million reasons, and one of them is that I’m not letting us die in there!”

“It’s not that dang—”

“IT IS!”

Silence. And you think you hear birds scattering in the distance after your outburst.

“Okay.” Jungkook nods, and you feel your heart break a little more at the sight of his disappointment in you. Again.

He takes your hand, squeezing it like he’s trying to tell you it’s okay—but you know it’s not. It never was. 

Will it ever be?

Jungkook leads you back to the camper, the silence between you both now uncharacteristically uncomfortable. And as you reach the campsite, you don’t hesitate to head inside, Jungkook following you without a word.

Turning around to face him, your guilt is eating at you too much. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s really fine, babe. Please don’t worry.”

He smiles—he’s been wearing that small smile even before you apologised—but you can see the hurt in his eyes.

“It’s not. I can see—”

“It is.” With that, Jungkook closes the distance between you both, crashing his lips against yours, sucking not only on your bottom lip, but also sucking the doubt right out of you.

Before you know it, you’re sprawled naked beneath him on the sad excuse of a bed, his hips drilling into you with an intensity that makes your mind shut up and your heart sing. 

Maybe everything’s fine. Maybe you were just overthinking again.

“Fucking girl of my dreams,” Jungkook moans, eyes glued to the place where your bodies connect, his hand gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide over his.

Are you really? You’re not sure anymore. But the way he’s fucking you so good, it feels like it must be true.

“Jungkook,” you cry out as he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, a move he’s perfected for when he’s close and needs you to be too.

“Come for me, babe. Fuck, I need you to come. Now.”

The pace he sets borders on insanity, and as a drop of his sweat lands on your stomach, it’s too much. You come undone around him, moaning so loud that anyone within a three-mile radius could probably hear. As your cunt convulses around his cock, Jungkook thrusts a few more times before finding his release, ropes of thick, hot cum filling the condom as he grunts out his pleasure.

With a final groan, he collapses beside you, discarding the condom before wrapping you in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, then your forehead as you both settle into your usual sleeping position, too drained to clean up like you usually would when he’s done with you.

“I love you too, Kook. Goodnight.”

“Night, babe,” he mumbles, already half-asleep before the last syllable leaves his swollen lips.

You wake slowly in the middle of the night, feeling utterly cold. But…it’s strange—you never feel cold when Jungkook’s sleeping beside you.

It’s when you turn and find his side of the bed not only empty, but the sheets cold, as if he was never there to begin with, that you realise he’s not just nipped to the toilet but that he’s been gone for a while.

You sit up, pulling the blanket around you as you reach for some nearby clothes, running through all the places he could’ve gone. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out he’s probably gone to the cave, unable to resist the urge to explore it on his own.

You should be angry at him, but all you can think about is that he comes back safe and unharmed. That he doesn’t leave you stranded here. That he returns and everything’s fine again.

Peering out of the small window, you can’t make out much, but the full moon offers just enough light to see the vague shapes of your surroundings.

You can’t help but let your doubts creep back in. If you were just a bit more adventurous, maybe he wouldn’t have gone off in the middle of the night on his own. There’s no way Jungkook truly sees you as his future if he’s doing stuff like this. There’s just no way.

It’s one thing to want to explore, but leaving you alone in the camper, in the woods, in the dead of night, with no signal, no way to defend yourself, and no idea how to drive this massive vehicle is just…

What are you supposed to do? You can’t follow him. You just can’t.

You’re sad, hurt, frightened—not just by what he’s done again and what it means for your relationship, but by what could happen to him out there too.

The minutes tick by, and with each one, your composure slips further, leaving you silently crying, your eyes fixed on the darkness outside, praying for him to return any moment now.

Eventually, you see someone emerge from the woods—it’s him. You quickly wipe your tears, strip off your clothes, and lie back down as if you never got up, hoping he won’t notice.

Through barely opened eyes, you watch as he quietly slips inside, undressing and carefully getting back into bed next to you. You have to focus on breathing evenly, fighting the urge to flinch when his arm drapes over you.

And while he’s asleep again in no time, you lie awake for the rest of the night, tears silently soaking into the sheets, knowing you’ll never be enough.

masterlist

All Rights Reserved © @runariya 2024

taglist: @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @leah-rose03 , @httpjeonlicious , @futuristicenemychaos , @cryingoverpixelsetc , @variety-is-the-joy-of-life , @kawaiiisstuff , @delusionalsnack , @jaykay-world , @kookie-vuitton , @https-mei, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @avawants2havefun , @kawaiiisstuff, @ancagab16 , @lovingkoalaface , @lachimolalajeon , @jkslvsnella , @asimuss7 , @elinaki92 , @minghaosimp, @whoa-jo , @jaytheatiny , @winterbeartaehyungbestboy, @xsyruhh

[wintfleur]

🪷 hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time, with luke Hughes! his older sister and he just needs his sisters comfort especially after how the devils have played and how tired luke has looked

౨ৎ Ice cream and much-needed hugs

﹕─┈ pairings ( Luke Hughes x older sister! reader )

°. — summary ( Luke’s been having a tough time, and his big sister just wants to cheer him up ! )

°. — details ( g; little bit of angst, some fluff. w; none that I know of wc; 2.2k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them right without saying any words when they’re having a hard time

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( LUKEY AHHH MY LOVE ! I love Luke sm if you guys didn’t know !!! I love writing sibling dynamics so muchhhh so thank you for sending the wonderful request !!! I absolutely loved writing it, I really tried to make it angsty but i think I’m terrible at writing angst, I’m sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, I was struggling sooo bad with the dialogue . . . also I of course had to add the love of my Like Brock boeser in it because like DUHHH I am so down for writing more for a older Hughes sister, I’m thinking she’s like 25??? I really hope you guys love it !!! Let me know if you want me to write more for older sister Hughes! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

There were a lot of upsides that came with being the oldest sibling, there were of course a lot of downsides too . . . but you chose to ignore those and focus on the upsides. Like being able to stay up later while your brothers had to go to sleep, having a good sense of leadership and responsibility, being able to read your brothers like a picture book. 

So, you knew right away that something was wrong with your youngest brother as you watched him play in the last period. You could see it clearly in his demeanor and the way he was skating, he was starting to overthink things, he had gotten into his own head. You of course had seen the way the public and media was shitting on your brother because he's made a few bad plays, and it broke your heart to see how defeated he looked sitting on that bench. 

Jack had voiced his worries about Luke to you over the phone a few days ago when you were out with Quinn and your boyfriend brock. Even with hundreds of miles between you and Luke you could tell something was bothering him, that's why your planned trip to visit your younger brothers this weekend was even more meaningful. 

You were leaning against the wall as you waited for your brothers to leave the locker room, your focus was down on your phone as you texted your boyfriend. A smile on your lips, you missed him dearly even though you have only been gone for almost two days. “Sis!” you heard the familiar sound of jack's voice call your name. You look up from your phone and smile as Jack rushes over to you and pulls you into a tight hug. 

“You played so well jack” You mumbled into his neck, cursing at the curse of being the oldest but the shortest. Jack smiles and gives you one more squeeze before letting go and taking a step back, even though they lost he wasn't going to let that bring him down from the fact that you watched him play in person for the first time in a few months.

 “Thank you, luke should be out soon, he's just being a little hard on himself” Jack sighed as he glanced back at the locker room entrance, there was only so much he could say to let luke know that he's doing okay. You let out a sigh and nodded, already getting an image of a pouty luke. Your eyes lit up with an idea, as a memory from years ago popped up in your mind. You smile at Jack as you ask “Do you think you can get a ride home? And can I have the keys to your truck?” 

“Uh yeah why?” Jack questioned with a raised brow as he pulled out his keys from his front pocket and handed them to you. You smiled gratefully and grabbed the keys and slid them into your front pocket with your lip gloss. “I have an idea on how to cheer luke up.” 

“Well good luck, cause I can't handle a grumpy luke anymore '' Jack jokes as he pats you on the shoulder, happy that you were now here to save him from the grumpy luke. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest as you look at jack “I remember saying the same thing about you.” 

“Have fun! I'm gonna go catch up with nico "Jack grins as he chooses to ignore your words, placing a quick kiss to your forehead before rushing off down the hallway, turning to look at you quickly and shouting out an ‘i love you’ before turning the corner and leaving your sight. You look forward just in time to see Luke walk out of the locker room, well more like trudge. His steps were heavy, and you can see the exhaustion on his face. His shoulders were sagged as he carried his backpack, he was changed out of his suit and into some sweats and a hoodie. He looked like a sad cat. When Luke noticed you, his heavy steps turned into long strides as he moved towards you. 

Before you could open your mouth to greet your brother, he was throwing his arms over shoulders and nestling his head in the crook of your head, for a much-needed hug. Your eyes widened at how tight Luke was holding you, but you close your eyes and wrap your arms around your little brother, softly rubbing his back with one of your hands. Luke closed his eyes and tried to shut off his mind as he felt himself melt into the comfort and safety of your arms. 

You rested your chin on his shoulder as you whispered, “You, okay?” you felt him nod yes but the both of you knew he was lying. Luke let out a deep breath and reluctantly pulled away from the hug when his back was starting to hurt from leaning down for so long. You smiled up at him, brushing some of his curls out of his face as he asked, “Where's jack?” 

“Oh, he's getting a ride home with nico, so come on lukey I'm taking you out tonight!” You excitedly pull-out Jack's keys and wave them while your other hand is grabbing Luke's arm and dragging him along you as you make your way down the hallway. Luke gave you an unimpressed look even though on the inside he was excited to spend more time with you “I’m not old enough to go bar hopping.” 

“Is that really all you think I do in Vancouver?” You gasped dramatically as you pretended to be hurt from his words. You have one embarrassing experience when you go bar hopping, and now that's all anyone remembers, you think with a roll of your eyes. Luke felt the corner of his lips lift into a smile at your dramatics, Jack definitely got that from you. 

“Besides I'm a good big sister, I wouldn't provide my underage brother with alcohol, at least in public” you joked as you wrapped your arm around Luke's, holding on tight. Luke chuckles and slips his hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, comforting silence coming across them as they make their way to Jack's truck. 

“Need help? '' Luke asked sarcastically as he put on his seatbelt, his eyes on you as you struggled slightly to get into the truck. You gave him a quick glare before closing the door and putting on your seatbelt, quickly starting the truck, wanting to leave the arena before the traffic got even worse. You turned up the volume on the radio, an unfamiliar country song filling up the silent car. Luke let out a heavy sigh and relaxed into the seat, looking out the window and all the passing lights. 

The car ride to your choice of destination was filled with mostly silence between you and Luke, just enjoying the music and the faint sound of the world around them. You could see that Luke had a lot on his mind and you didn't want to pressure him into talking about it, so you stayed quiet, knowing that he would tell you when he's ready. Luke couldn't help but replay every single one of his mistakes he's made in the past few games, remembering every tweet he saw from disappointed ‘fans’. 

Luke could feel himself become more upset and discouraged the more he thought about it, so Luke quickly glanced at you before looking back out the window. Luke was slightly confused on how well you knew your way around the town, he was curious on where you were taking him. But he gave up on asking after the third time you told him it was a surprise. 

Luke’s eyes widen with excitement when he sees where you're pulling into, it was an old ice cream shop that he had driven by many times, but never had the chance to try it. You smiled and turned off the car and grabbed your wallet from your purse and gave Luke a big smile “Come on, I'll even let you get 3 scoops!” 

You laugh as you watch Luke quickly leave the truck and rush around the front of the truck to open your door. You giggle and take Luke's hand that he held out for you, doing your best to do a posh British accent “Thank you kind sir” Luke smiles and closes the door for you, following you across the parking lot, his spirit was lifted already. 

“This is so good; how did you find this place?” Luke asked you before he took another lick of his chocolate ice cream, of course having a waffle cone. And despite you saying he could get 3 scoops, he only got 2. You look away from your bowl of your favorite ice cream and to your brothers whose focus was up at the stars. The two of you were sitting on the tailgate of the truck, neither of you realizing that your legs were swinging in unison. 

“Oh, I found it the last time I came to visit, and you and Jack were at practice, I've been craving it since” you answered him as you looked back on the day. Luke nods and continues to eat his ice cream. Silence came across the two of you again, Luke didn't know what to say and you could see the way his shoulders became tense that he was thinking of something. You had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about, hockey. 

“You played really good tonight luke” you broke the silence, and you watched as his shoulders sagged and a frown came across his lips as he looked down at his lap. You hated seeing how discouraged he looked, this wasn't like luke. He never let it get to him like this before, but it's different . . . it's the NHL, it's his dream. He whispered bitterly “We lost.” 

“You still played really good, i'm really proud of you luke” you vowed as you gently nudged his knee with yours, your tone proving how genuine you were. You were a good big sister you liked to think, so you would never have a favorite brother . . . but your little brother Luke will always have a special place in your heart. The little brother who would listen to you rant all about your school drama while the other two were doing God knows what, the little brother who fully trusted you to drive him to get ice cream when you first got your license while Quinn and jack swore you would kill them. Your sweet little brother Luke who was far too good for this world. 

Luke let out a heavy breath and his eyes started to water as he listened to you, he heard others say they were proud of him, but it was different, more meaningful coming from you. Unlike you he made it very clear that you're his favorite sibling, that you always have been. The big sister that he always knew would have his back no matter what, the big sister that always was on his side. He looked up from his lap and turned his head to look at you to see you were already smiling at him. “Thank you sissy.” 

“Not just for the compliment” Luke quickly spoke before you could, fully turning his body to face you, thankfully he had eaten most of his ice cream, so he didn't have to worry about it dripping. Luke never really liked talking about his emotions or just having deep conversations in general, but he didn't have to worry about any of that with his big sister who always made it clear that he could talk to you no matter what. Luke continues speaking “But for taking me here and for being here for me, for always being here for me.” 

“I'll always be here lukey” You promised as you set your ice cream bowl next to you before leaning over and pulling Luke into a much-needed hug. Luke smiles and closes his eyes, hugging you with one arm while the other holds his cone away from you, not wanting to get any ice cream on you. Luke lets himself melt into the hug; he really didn't want you to leave. You couldn't help tearing up as you think of Luke and everything he's been through and how strong he is, you really are so proud of your little . . . well not so little brother. You sniffled and whispered, “God why did you have to grow up so fast.” 

“Trying to catch up with you, you old lady” Luke jokes, wanting to lift the mood, he really hated seeing you cry, and he knew you so well that he was sure you were going to.  A loud laugh leaves his lips as you pull away from the hug and dramatically move away from him. Despite his words you smiled as you listened to luke laugh, it was the type of laugh that made you want to join in. You pulled the keys out of your pocket and slap them into luke's hand before jumping off the tailgate of the truck and snatching your ice cream “That's it your driving home.” 

Luke continued to laugh and watch as you stomp over to the passenger seat, the famous Hughes pout on your lips. Luke quickly gets off the bed of the truck and puts up the tailgate shouting a cheeky remark that only made him laugh harder at the quick glare you sent him.  

“Thank God! Brock drives you around so much I'm pretty sure you forgot how to drive” 

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[hannieehaee]

Hello👋, and an unusual request I think, but could you do a reaction to the members having an S/O who is a supermodel from the 2000s I don't know do whatever you want, like those famous models on Tiktok like Gisele Bündchen, Shalom Harlow and Vlada Rosylakova, I've never seen anyone asking for something like this and I'm curious what it would be like, I'll be very grateful if you answer my request💕

their s/o being a supermodel from the early 2000s

content: established relationship, f!reader, fluff, etc.

wc: 672

a/n: so sorry about how long this took me!! i used to be really into models when i was younger but im still not sure if i did this justice! i hope you like it though<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

super cocky knowing he scored a supermodel gf lol slips it into conversation any time he can, always flexing which show you were walking on next and carrying around magazines you're in the cover of.

jeonghan -

another cocky one. ends any argument with anyone by asking who's dating the supermodel? oh, that's right. it's him! but as cocky as he can get, he'll still be mesmerized by you any time he gets to see you on the catwalk, playing with the bounce of your hair after a show, amazed at all the volume they give you.

joshua -

he's like those nfl wives. will attend any and every show/event you have, dressed to the nines as he admires your beauty. super in tune with you and the business of your life.

jun -

you'd be such an iconic duo as an actor and supermodel couple. he'd invite you to his events and you'd invite him to yours. would sing your praises any time he could, literally stopping mid interview if he saw you walking by just to admire you.

soonyoung -

so giggly and blushy lol. let's say you were walking for a lingerie show ... well he'd literally become a shell of himself as he watched, completely hypnotized by you and already thinking up ways to sneak backstage so he can admire you up close. always gets bashful when you're all dolled up and show him any type of affection after a show.

wonwoo -

he's not one to focus too much on looks, but he can't help but feel this immense sense of pride at looking at his gf and knowing everyone either wants you or wants to be you. adores you past your looks and engages a lot with your lifestyle. keeps updated with your diet, your brands, your exercise routine, your hair care, etc.

jihoon -

even though he's used to your beauty (he still counts his lucky stars every night), he'll be incredibly intimidated any time he attends your events and sees you on the catwalk. literally needs to be slapped out of a trance every time.

seokmin -

your number one supporter. he'd have to be reprimanded the first time he was in the audience for one of your walks, not realizing he wasn't supposed to cheer so loud oops. he'd always be backstage just in time to kiss you good luck and rush back outside to get front row at your walk. literally collects any magazines you're in and prints out your shoots.

mingyu -

he kind of looks like the epitome of supermodel so it'd be a match made in heaven. he'll actually be super interested in all the intricacies that come into your lifestyle, always asking about the process behind your hair, your outfit, how you do your walk, which companies you're in talks with. he's just super interested in it all.

minghao -

he adores how passionate you are about your modeling career and is incredibly supportive of it. makes you meditate with him before any important show, knowing how nerves may get before any important event on a stage. he's absolutely mesmerized by you and the confidence you carry on and off the catwalk.

seungkwan -

attends all your shoots and shows, carrying a (designer) bag full of all your must haves from hairspray, water bottle, lip gloss, resistance bands, you name it! also, he's obsessed with you but that's a given.

vernon -

this man is whipped as fuck. literally forgot how to speak the moment you walked the catwalk at your first lingerie show, practically drooling at the sight. still stutters around you sometimes because you're just so pretty to look at.

chan -

he feels like he won the lottery. no shit the guys give him about anything ever beats the fact that he's the one dating a supermodel. literally groans any time you take him with you to a show and give him a sneak peak of the outfit they got you on. has no idea how to handle you like he's just happy to be there.

[alotofpockets]

Not as it seems | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Reader pronouns used: she/her

Summary: Your girlfriend finds messages on your phone that make her think that you are cheating on her. What will happen when she won't let you tell her your side of the story?

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending), accusation of cheating, and some swear words.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.4k

Katie was sitting in the living room of your shared apartment, decked out in her training kit, while you were still getting changed in the bedroom. Your girlfriend of a year, was always ready before you, you had no clue why because you literally had to change into the same kit. Still, you felt no rush as you still had some time before you would have to leave to pick up Kyra. When the younger Australian joined the team, you and Katie had offered to pick her up before training, since she lived on the route to the training centre.  

You had left your phone on the living room couch, where you had previously sat cuddled up to your girlfriend. Katie didn’t mean to look when it buzzed with a new message but she caught your screen light up from the corner of her eye. The messages that showed up had her reach for the phone instantly.

EM: I can’t believe that she still has no clue

EM: See you next weekend! ❤️

Who was this Em and why was she going to see you next weekend? She had never heard you talk about an Em, and you hadn’t mentioned having any plans next weekend either. What bothered her most was that she had the early feeling that she was the one being referred to as the one ‘having no clue’. So, against her better judgement she unlocked your phone with the passcode you had shared with her early on in your relationship. She opened your conversation with the person in question, and without scrolling further she dropped your phone.

Y/n: Made the reservation for the hotel under your name

EM: Does Katie have any suspicions?

Y/n: None at all :)

EM: I can’t believe that she still has no clue

EM: See you next weekend! ❤️

Her mind was racing, there was only one logical explanation for the conversation she had just read, right? She started pacing the room, why was this happening to her? Why was it happening again? Was she just not good enough? Besides being extremely hurt, she was also very angry with you. So, when you came walking into the living room all cheerful, she snapped. 

“How could you do this to me, y/n?” You were taken back by her raised voice accompanied by the use of your full first name. “I’m sorry but what exactly did I do?” You ask timidly, not wanting to upset the Irish woman more. She reaches for your phone that she dropped just moments before, and holds up the conversation to your face. You frown, “You went through my messages?” Sure you gave her your passcode, as did she, but that was something you had done because there was a high level of trust between the two of you, and not to go through the other’s messages. “That is what you want to focus on right now? You’re fucking cheating on me, and you want to talk about me reading your messages?” 

“Katie, it’s not what you think-” She interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. “I don’t want to hear your stupid excuses.” You try to say something again, but to no avail. “Get in the car, we have to pick up Kyra.” You had never seen Katie this way, her face was stoic, and she didn’t say a word on the drive over to Kyra’s. When Kyra got into the back of the car she could feel the tension, so she opted on scrolling on her phone instead of getting involved in whatever was going on. 

The three of you walk into the locker room together, and walk to your cubbies. Instead of sitting down at her cubby next to yours, Katie grabs her stuff, and moves to a free cubby down the other side of the room. The girls look between the two of you worriedly, they had never seen the two of you fight like this before. You don’t notice their stares, as your eyes are trained to the floor while you boot up. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Steph whispers to Kyra. “I have no clue, there was a lot of tension in the car but neither one of them said a word.” Some of the other girls listened in, wanting to know what happened too, but sadly Kyra didn’t know either. The team wanted to be there for the both of you, but they felt helpless not knowing what was going on. 

Katie, who had enough of all the whispering, got up and walked towards the door, but not before turning around and saying, “Since you all so badly want to know what’s going on, I just found out that she is cheating on me.” Without another word she leaves the room, slamming the door in the process.

Now you know that all of their eyes are on you, and there is no way to avoid them now. “Y/n, is it true?” Leah asked, not sure what to ask, but she felt like you should be able to tell your side of the story too. It pained you to think that both your girlfriend and your teammates thought you would do something like that. “I did not cheat on her.” You get up annoyed, and head out to the pitch yourself, the rest of the team following your lead, probably more confused now than when they didn’t know what was going on. 

You started warming up with your back towards Katie, and she did the same on the other end of the field. During the training drills you were running up and down the field, and every time you saw the angry looks that Katie sent your way, your heart broke a little more, until eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. You run off the field with tears streaming down your face, only stopping once you have made your way behind one of the supply sheds where you just slump to the ground.

It wasn't long until you heard footsteps coming closer, you looked up to see Beth standing in front of you. “Oh, honey.” She says when she notices the state you're in. Without a second thought, she sits down beside you, and wraps her arms around you. Gently rocking you back and forth in her arms, letting you cry it all out. 

Only once you start wiping the tears of your face, Beth speaks up again. “Why don't you tell me what's going on, sweetheart?” Her voice was soft, and it almost made you sob again. “She saw some messages on my phone and immediately accused me of cheating on her. I would never do that to her, or anyone for that matter.” Beth listened carefully to your words, “Did you tell her that?” She tries. “I started to but she didn't let me finish. I don't want to lose her but she's so angry with me, and she won't even listen to me. I was only trying to surprise her by flying in her sister Ella for the match next week. Why won't she listen to me, Beth?” Your voice was weak as your emotions were high.

Beth had a feeling why Katie's mind had so quickly gone to this conclusion, but felt like it wasn't her place to tell you, if it was something that Katie hadn't yet shared with you. “I'll go talk to her. Why don't you go to the locker room, and stay there for a bit, okay? I'll let Jonas know that you need some time.” She gets up, and offers her hand to help you up as well. With another hug, Beth is on her way to talk to Katie.

Meanwhile on the pitch some of the girls had taken Katie aside as well. Katie usually wasn't one to cry in front of others, but now that she felt like her world was ending, she couldn't hold her tears in. “I thought I could trust her.” She tells them between sobs. “I really thought things would be different with her, why would she do this to me?” Viv puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Have you talked to her? In the locker room she said that she didn't cheat on you.” Leah asks. Katie shakes her head, “No, but I saw the messages. She booked a hotel for some girl and she talked about me not having a clue.” Before any of her teammates can answer, Beth is by their side. “Hey, sorry to interrupt but I really think you should talk to your girl.” 

Katie shakes her head, “I can't Beth, I-.” Now Katie was the one not allowed to finish her sentence, as Beth interrupts her. “Okay, then listen to me. She didn't cheat on you, she was surprising you by flying Ella in for the match next week.” Katie looks at her friend in disbelief. “I understand why your mind went to this conclusion, but she's not Mandy. She's heartbroken even by the thought that you'd think she'd do that to you. Please go talk to her.” It finally started to settle for Katie, who now felt extremely guilty for accusing you. So, she took Beth’s advice, and headed to the locker room.

You hear a soft knock on the locker room door before it opens slightly and Katie appears on the other side. “Can I come in?” The softness in her voice was the complete opposite of the raised voice you had gotten this morning, so you nod. You sat on the floor in the far corner of the room, back leaned against the wall. Katie makes her way over to you and sits down in front of you. “Beth told me about your plans.” She starts softly. “I know I really messed up in accusing you, and not letting you explain yourself. I am really sorry for that. I never meant to break your trust, as it is very important to me. I will do anything to fix what I’ve broken, if you’ll allow me.” She looks up again, nervously searching for eye contact. “Why would you think that I would ever cheat on you?” Your voice breaks mid sentence. “I never thought you would, and I of course really didn’t want it to be true. The reason I thought that that was what was happening is because of something that happened in my past. I should have told you about this before, and I am not saying this to excuse my actions, because I know that I was wrong. I’ve been cheated on in the past, so when I saw the messages pop-up on your screen, my mind went straight back to that. Again, it doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I should have talked to you, and I am really sorry I didn’t do that. I promise to be better.” 

You finally made eye contact with the brunette sitting in front of you. Despite your feelings on the current situation, your blood was boiling finding out that someone had hurt your girlfriend so badly in the past. “Who?” You asked with a hint of anger in your tone, towards whoever had done it. Katie was surprised that you wanted to hear more about that, instead of the situation at hand, but she answered nonetheless. “Mandy, the girl I dated back in college.” Katie didn’t expect you to reach out your hand, but she took it before you could change your mind and retract it. “What a bitch.” Your comment took Katie by surprise, and made her chuckle. Katie’s laugh was contagious, and you’re soon laughing with her. The laughter soon turns into crying from both ends, as you had pulled her in for a hug. It was a tight hug, one that meant more than words could express.

She sits down by your side once you pull back from the hug. “What can I do to fix this?” You think for a moment. “I need you to talk to me when something happens.” She nods, “I will do that next time something happens, I promise.” You lean your head against her shoulder, exhausted from all of today’s emotions. “And I need you to explain to the team what actually happened, because you made me out for someone I am not.” Katie nods again, “I am sorry, I promise I will fix it. Just so you know, none of them actually thought you did, they were all telling me to talk to you. And I will also promise that the next time they tell me that, I will.” She adds quickly, wanting to show you that she was listening to you. “Okay, and when you’ve done that, I would really like you to take me home, my head hurts and I am exhausted.” 

Katie helps you up, before she excuses herself to quickly run back to the team who was still training on the pitch. She went to tell them what happened, like she had promised. She talked to Jonas about the both of you needing the rest of training off as well, and finally she made sure that Kyra would have a ride home. 

Back home you lay down on the couch immediately, while Katie makes her way to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and some painkillers for your headache. “I’m really sorry that I ruined your surprise in such a horrific way.” She sits down next to you, leaving some space just in case you need it, but you quickly scoot into her side. “At least I no longer have to keep secrets from you, I hate keeping secrets from you.” Katie presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, and you’re telling Ella that you figered out the surprise, preferably without the whole explanation of the story.” You say before wrapping your arms around her waist and laying your head down on your chest, getting ready to take a well deserved nap. “Okay, I’ll call her tonight. Does telling her I saw the two of you messaging about it sound alright to you?” You hum letting her know it does, before closing your eyes. 

Katie holds you while you sleep, feeling grateful that you were giving her the opportunity to make it up to you. She loved you more than anything in the world, which was also the reason that she was so scared of losing you. She promised herself to improve her communication skills, so nothing like this would ever happen again, before she closed her own eyes and fell asleep with you.

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[writingwithciara]

Missed Goal ~Quinn Hughes~

summary: after the devils beat the canucks, quinn returns to his apartment, where his roommate has a plan to cheer him up

word count: 2.3k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader

notes: I feel so bad that quinn didn’t score a goal in the game against his brothers. Like my heart physically hurts just thinking about. My poor baby ☹ Anyways, I think there’s a touch of anxiety speak closer to the end but that’s pretty much it for triggers/warnings

masterlist

“Are you sure you can’t come to the game tonight?” Quinn asked his roommate as he rushed around their apartment, grabbing his gear. He looked up at her and waited for a response.

“I really wish I could but I have to work tonight. Sorry, Quinn.” y/n looked at her roommate and smiled. “But I will be watching from here and I’ll be cheering for you. You’re going to do amazing tonight.”

“I really appreciate that. Thanks.” He looked at his bag and then back up to y/n. “It’s not going to be the same without you there, but at least I know you’ll be cheering for me here.”

“I’d cheer for you anywhere. And that’s a promise.” y/n smiled and walked over to him, extending her pinky. He wrapped his pinky around hers and placed a kiss on it. It was a simple gesture. One they did before every single game.

“When I get home tonight, we can celebrate. Win or lose.”

“You’re going to win, Quinn.” y/n smiled at her best friend. “You may be playing against both of your brothers and they may be great but you’re better. You got this, Hughes. Now go and dominate those Devils.”

“Thank you for being you.” He grabbed his bag and walked out the door. Y/n went to her computer and began doing her work tasks.

A few hours later, she turned the game on and abandoned her work to cheer for Quinn. When Jack scored during the first period, she cheered. She wanted to be happy for the boys but whenever something good happened, it was never Quinn. Jack scored, Luke scored and it seemed like every other player got a goal except Quinn. He did get an assist but that didn’t make y/n happy. Instead, she felt extremely bad for him.

Every time the camera would cut to him, he would look defeated and that broke y/n’s heart. It was bad enough he always felt somewhat inferior to his brothers when it came to hockey, but for the commentators (and even some fans) to constantly point that out, was a little upsetting. She knew he would be upset when he got back home so she decided she would make him feel better.

She ordered his favorite food, knowing he’d be hungry when he got back, and she set out some relaxation options for him to choose from. All of his favorite ways to wind down after a game. As she admired her work, she hadn’t realized how long it actually took to set it up until the front door opened and she heard the keys hit the table.

“Hey. I’m home.”

Y/n walked out of Quinn’s room and when she saw him, her heart felt like it was barely hanging together. His hair was a mess and it was hard to tell but it looked like he got dressed in a hurry and that his shirt was inside out.

“Hey.” y/n stepped closer to him as he ran his hands through his hair for what was probably the millionth time since the game ended an hour ago. “I saw the game.”

“I was kind of hoping you didn’t.” he chuckled lightly.

“And why is that?”

“I didn’t want you to see how much I messed up tonight. I don’t ever want to disappoint you or make you regret cheering for me.” He sighed and collapsed on the couch. Y/n sat next to him and pushed him to continue. “I feel like I should be playing better this year but I’m not. And maybe that’s because I know Luke and Jack are better players and it’s terrifying.”

“Quinn, you didn’t mess up tonight. And even if you did, I would still be proud of you.” She looked at him and smiled kindly. It was the smile that always brought him back when he got lost in his own head. “Jack and Luke may be good players, but they only got that way from watching you do what you do. You’re an amazing player and an even better big brother.” She looked at him again and noticed he was focused on her words. She also noticed how hard he was trying to hold all his emotions in. “I ordered from your favorite restaurant so let’s eat and once you’ve got a little bit of energy back, we can talk, okay?”

“Oh, you’re the best.” Quinn smiled a little as he reached for the takeout containers. As they ate, the faint sound of the tv playing in the background seemed to relax Quinn a little bit but  y/n could tell he was still stressed. When he finished, Quinn put the empty container on the table and looked over at the girl sitting next to him. “Have I ever told you much I appreciate you? Because it’s really true.”

“You have told me a few times before but really, it’s the least I could do. I mean, you’re allowing me to live with you for pretty much free so being the best roommate I can be is what I’m doing in return.”

“You know, I honestly thank god for bringing you into my life.” Quinn admitted.

“You should thank Jack because if he hadn’t come up to me at the beach that one time when we were 8 years old, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, either way, I’m beyond grateful that you’re here and that you’ve been here for so long.”

“Awe, Quinn. You’re gonna make me cry.” y/n smiled and touched his arm gently. The action made him get a little nervous suddenly. When she removed her hand, he felt heat where it had been. Suddenly, everything felt different. The atmosphere became warm and intense but Quinn couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “So, anyway, I have some options to help you relax. Go in your room and pick out whatever it is you want and I’ll make it happen.”

Quinn got up and quickly walked to his room. As he looked at each options carefully, he thought about everything y/n has ever done for him. She has put him first in every possible situation and she’s always there when he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. She knows exactly what’s going on in his mind at all times. They’re connected in a way that is unexplainable. She is the only one he knows he can come to when he’s feeling the stress and pressure of his career and he knows that she can easily lift all the worries away, even with a simple smile. Suddenly, it clicked. He was falling in love with her.

He picked up the bath stuff and walked back out to the living room, where y/n was busy cleaning up.

“So, how will you be relaxing tonight, Quinn?”

“I’m gonna take a nice hot bubble bath and think about some things.” He smiled and headed towards the bathroom. “Thank you.”

While he did his thing in the bathroom, y/n figured she would set up a mini movie night for after his bath. She popped some popcorn, set out some other snacks and put out a few drinks. She even queued up one of his favorite movie. Monster’s Inc. She knew he would enjoy something light-hearted and fun to finish off the night.

After nearly an hour of Quinn being in the bath, y/n started to get worried. She walked over to the bathroom door and knocked lightly.

“Quinn, you alright in there?”

“Yeah. I’m doing alright.” He chuckled from behind her. She turned around and Quinn was walking out of his bedroom and was in the middle of putting his shirt on. Y/n found herself staring at his body and the way his muscles flexed as the shirt went over his head and over his torso.

“I, um, got a movie all set up and ready for you to enjoy. I know how you like your alone time so I’ll just be in my room, finishing up something for work.”

“No. I want you to enjoy the movie with me. I had plenty of alone time in the car on the way to and from the game, plus that time in the bathroom. I think after the night I’ve had I would really love the company. Especially if it’s your company.” He mentally cringed at the last comment but when he looked at y/n, she was sporting a big smile.

“Well, in that case, I would be honored to be your movie buddy tonight.” She guided him back to the living room and started the movie.

About halfway through the movie, y/n glanced over at Quinn and he looked like he was lost in his head again. She paused the movie and softly placed her hand on the back of his neck, gently playing with the hair that was there. He closed his eyes and thought about the calmness her touch brought him.

“What’s on your mind, Cap?”

“Be honest with me, alright?” he looked at her and when she nodded silently, he closed his eyes and continued to speak. “Am I actually a good player? Or do people just like me because of my brothers? Is Jack a better hockey player than I am? Is Luke?”

“In my honest opinion, I think people love you because you’re incredibly good at what you do, not because of your brothers. You have a kind heart and I love getting able to see that loving side of you every day. People might like Jack better because he’s good looking and they might like Luke better because he’s just adorable. But you wanna know what I think? I think you’re one of the best damn players the NHL has ever had. You’re not a perfect player, but nobody is. Not only that, but you are kind, funny, smart, loving, caring and just perfect in pretty much every sense of the word, Quinn. Some people may not like you, but who cares? You have so many more fans than anyone can count. And your biggest fan? Well she’s sitting on the couch with you, reassuring you that you have no reason to worry. She ditched her work responsibilities to watch you play against your brothers and her heart broke whenever the camera showed that you were upset. She is your biggest cheerleader and wants you to know that she would never favor your brothers over you. Your biggest fan loves you a lot, Quinn. More than you could ever know.” y/n moved her hand from the back of his neck to his arm. He looked at her to search her eyes for any sign that she was lying but he couldn’t find any.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“I love you.” He looked at his hands nervously. He had never told a girl he loved her before and now here he was, spilling his soul to his best friend. It made him worry that she would reject the idea. But when she began to run her hand up and down his arm, he felt better about his confession. “And I want you to know that I have never said those words to a girl before so this is new for me.” He took the chance to look at her and when he saw her smile, he knew he needed to get everything out. “I’m not sure when I started feeling this way but I honestly think the feeling has always been lingering in my heart. You have always been by my side and even though Jack is the reason we met, I love that you always preferred me over him. You are the one person in my life who has never loved my brothers more than me, and I love you even more for it. I love you and everything about you, y/n. You make me feel so much better, even on the gloomiest days. The ones where I don’t want to talk to anyone and stay in my room.  Those are my favorite days because even though I say I don’t want to talk to anybody, you always find a way around that and you cheer me up with absolutely no effort. And living here with you these last few years, watching the amount of guys that would stay for a night and be gone by morning, killed me. I didn’t know why at the time, but now I’m sure of it. Y/n, I’m really in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t say a word. Instead, she grinned and moved to straddle his lap. She didn’t break eye contact once. “I’m in love with you too, Hughes.”

And with that being said, their lips met in the middle and fit together perfectly. With each passing second, the intensity behind the kiss kept on growing. Years of feelings being poured out into one simple action. When y/n’s lips parted, Quinn took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, eliciting a small moan from the girl on his lap. He placed his hands on her back and pulled her closer as the kiss deepened. His large hands found their way under her shirt and rested on her waist while hers were tangled in his now extremely messy hair.

“Is it bad that all I wanna do is stay in this position for the rest of my life?” Quinn asked when they finally took a moment to breathe.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” y/n pulled him in for another intensely passionate kiss.

All 3 of the Hughes brothers ended up scoring that night.

-----

taglist: @worldlxvlys @jackquinnswife

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Separate | © scribblesofagoonerr

pairings: leah williamson x jordan nobbs x child!reader

summary: child reader is finding it hard to deal with her mum's separation.

once again, shout out to @alotofpockets for her help with this one!

let me know what you guys think about this one, as i'm looking to write more and obviously include a certain reader from another series...

"Come on, buddy. Cheer up!" Jordan frowns, turning round to see you reluctantly dragging her feet up the driveway of the home she once shared with her ex-girlfriend and you, "I thought you'd be excited to come home and be able to see mummy finally?"

You stand there with your arms crossed and scowl plastered on your face, "No! I don't wan' to go in there!" You tell her, stubbornly.

You might only be 3-years-old, but you know what you want and this is something you definitely didn't want to do.

"Why not?" Jordans' confused with your blunt answer, considering the fact that while you were away with her, it was the complete opposite.

You had spent the week on holiday in Greece with Jordan and her best friend Katie, you had such a good time and you didn't want to go back home to Leah, because then it meant that you wouldn't see Jordan for a while again.

Sure it's only a weekend but in your 3-year-old mind, that's still a long time to wait.

You wish that they could both be together with you all of the time.

"Cos' I don' wanna, mama!" You state, like that explains it all.

Your stubbornness is something neither Leah or Jordan quite know where you got it from, but it's a trait that they've both learnt to pick their battles wisely.

"Okay," Jordan exhales a sigh and crouches down to your level, "But I think that mummy might be upset about that, won't she? I bet she's excited to see you as well!"

You know that Jordan's right, but you still didn't want to go back to Leah's, even if your favourite person is there.

"I don' care, mama!" Your little voice shouted aloud while you stomped your foot in protest.

"Hey, hey, come on," Jordans' voice is gentle but there's still a sense of firmness there, "There's no need to shout about this, is there?" She questions.

You huff and continue to stomp your little feet in defiance, "I don' want to go in there, mama! I don' wanna!" You exclaim, stubbornly.

The women knows this another argument with you that won't end well if she's not careful, "Okay, alright... Can you tell mama the reason that you don't want too?" She wonders, trying to get to the bottom of your reason.

"Cos' when I go in there then that means you leave, and I don' want you to go!" You explain, the reason in your hand is perfectly acceptable.

"You've been with me all week though, buddy. It's mummy's turn to spend time with you now though, isn't it?" Jordan still continues to be gentle and coax you closer to the front door, where Leah's know seen you both and is probably rushing towards the door right now.

Shaking your head, you continue to be stubborn about the decision, "Don' want that though. I wan' go back with you and see Blu!" You tell her, like it's simple as that.

You miss the simpler times, when you had both Leah and Jordan together.

You can't remember a lot because sure you was only little when they broke up, but you still wish your 2 favourite people were always together.

Jordan gives you a sympathetic smile, "Buddy, I know you want to do that but it's your mummy's time now with you. I'll see you again at the weekend, won't I?" She asks.

"Don' want to wait until then!" You huff and stomp your feet again in protest.

"I'm sorry, buddy." Jordan exhales a sigh, knowing there's not much that she can do it based on the custody arrangement that herself and Leah had come with to split equal time with you, "Next weekend, I promise. Okay? We'll go to the aquarium or something as well!" She promises you.

You didn't have much time to protest before the door swung open to reveal Leah on the other side with a beaming smile on her face when she see's you.

"There's my girl!" Leahs' crouching down to your level and holding her arms out, waiting for you to run into them like usual.

Only this time, you didn't.

"No!" You exclaim in protest before moving to hide behind Jordans' legs, "No, wan' you. No!" Clinging to Jordan, your reluctant to move to go anywhere near Leah.

"Oh," Leah's smile turns into a confused frown, looking at Jordan for some sort of explanation because this is completely out of character for you to act like this when your usually her mini me and will follow her around everywhere.

Now you didn't want anything to do with her.

Jordan sends Leah an apologetic smile before she turns round and crouches to your height, "Buddy, I know it's hard but it's mummy's time now, remember?" She tries to explain to you, sensing that this broke Leah's heart to see you reject her in the way that you did.

"But mama, I'll miss you too much!" Your little voice admits, peeking your head out from behind Jordans' leg as your bottom lip wobbles when you see Leah.

The realisation hits Leah suddenly when she can finally understand what's going on with you and your reluctance to cling onto Jordan instead, "Jord, why don't you come in for a bit so you can spend some time with her before you have to go?" She offers her ex girlfriend.

Jordan peers up to look at Leah from where's crouching down on the floor and nods in agreement, the two of them having a silent conversation with one another before she turns back to face you, "That sounds like a good idea, doesn't it, buddy? Why don't we go inside all together?" She suggests, still trying to coax you into the house.

"O... Okay," Hesitant to move from behind Jordan too much, you slowly take hold of her hand as all 3 of you walk back inside the spacious house.

Leah's apprehensive about your newfound clinginess for the other women but tries to not let it bother her as she shuts the front door behind the three of you, "So, how was the flight?" She wonders, trying to keep the conversation polite between herself and her ex for your sake.

"Good, yeah. Buddy slept most of it," Jordan replies, ruffling your hair as she walks through into the living room, "How was Nashville?" She wonders.

Leah snorts slightly and shakes her head, "Chaotic to say the least, but it was a memorable trip with monkey," She smiles faintly as she stands in the doorway of the living room, "Do you want a drink or anything?" She offers.

"Oh I can imagine. Sure, I'll take a glass of water please," Jordan agrees, taking a seat  on the sofa and you don't hesitate to drop yourself into her lap and nuzzle yourself as close to her as possible, "Do you want a drink, buddy?" She wonders.

"No," You say in disagreement, keeping yourself virtually attached to Jordan.

Leah smiles faintly and nods, trying to not let it get to her too much as she maneuvers into the kitchen to make said drinks, making a sippy cup of juice up for you because it was important for you to drink even if you disagreed about it, before she returns to the living room and handing the drink over to Jordan and placing your sippy cup on the coffee table.

"Hey, Buddy! Look what we got for you," Leah tries to get your attention away from Jordan as she moves to reach for the plastic carrier bag on the other end of the sofa, "I brought you a new Lego set when we was in Nashville, Monkey picked it out for you. Do you want to check it out?" She wonders, gesturing to the item in her hands.

You peer your head up from Jordans' shoulder and inspect it carefully, after hearing that your favourite person other than Leah and Jordan had a hand in picking it.

You love Monkey, she's like an older sister to you.

Even if she's 19-years-old, she still acts like a big kid.

"Wow, that's cool, isn't it, buddy?" Jordan exclaims, trying to encourage you to play with it.

"No," You murmur quietly, shaking your head and moving back to rest it on Jordan's shoulder.

"How about we all try and build it together?" Leah suggests, trying to coax you out of the clinginess slowly and what's better to do than Lego.

It's one of your favourite things to play with.

The next would be play-dough, but Leah's not too much a fan of that.

"That sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?" Jordan agrees with her ex-girlfriend, hopeful that you would agree to do it.

You think about it for a few seconds, "Okay, but I wan' both mama and mummy to do it with me!" You declare, being the opinionated and bossy 3-year-old that you are.

Leah's smile brightens as she nods, "We'll all do it together, buddy."

© scribblesofagoonerr

[luvnoirs]

MORE PAIGEEE

senior night

paring: paige x fem!reader synopsis: paige asks you to be her girlfriend during senior night warning(s): none ! (sfw) word count: 1.2k

a/n: this was a request (i changed it just a bit) and i feel like i kinda rushed it a little cause i wanted to hurry and give y'all something so im sorry for that 😭

you only had one goal tonight: do not cry.

it was senior night at uconn tonight and since you were extremely close friends with the women's basketball team, you stood in the crowd cheering on as the seniors on the team began receiving their plaques. you knew that regardless of their decision to stay at uconn or persue their career beyond college, your friendship with the girls would never falter. you would even call them your sisters and you successfully held back tears at the sight of watching them be recognized for all their hard work and contribution to the huge legacy that uconn holds.

though as one particular blonde started walking across the gym floor along with her family members, you felt your heart tug.

you had just seen her before the game, wishing her good luck with a swift kiss on the cheek and a sweet smile. if you two weren't in front of a sold-out crowd and cameras showcasing the game on national television, you would have given her that kiss on the lips like you've been doing for the past few weeks.

at first, you two thought it was nothing. it was normal for friends to kiss each other, right? though with one too many shots at ted's one night and an entire dorm room to yourself, one thing led to another, and shortly, the two of you became casual sex partners. you both agreed not to let it ruin your friendship and that it was just for fun, but you couldn't help but start feeling something that was more than platonic for the girl.

though the complicated friendship between you and paige might've been a secret to everyone else, it didn't go unnoticed by your friend azzi. the girl was constantly nagging you about the two of you making things official, but you simply didn't have the courage to tell paige how you really felt about her.

moments later, all the seniors began to line up to say a special speech, and one by one they all went, leaving paige to be the last one to speak.

she grabbed the microphone from aubrey and spoke, "uh, i can't put into words what this program has meant to me—what you guys have meant to me..."

and as she continued speaking, you felt your smile grow. even before you and paige started seeing each other exclusively, you've always been friends and loved each other, so you know exactly what she's been through and how much she struggled behind closed doors.

you can remember being there to comfort her last season when she was out due to her injury. paige had shown up to your dorm, her usual happy expression replaced with a straight face and watery blue eyes. you two had spent that night watching tv and talking about the most random topics to take paige's mind off of missing the season as she snuggled into you on your couch.

and ever since that day, it has become your ritual. paige spent at least one night a week over at your dorm, even sleeping over until the next day some times. she even bothered to stop giving you a heads up and just used the spare key that you had given her to let herself in whenever she pleased.

you let out a quiet laugh at the memory of her walking in while your back was turned, and she thought it would be a good idea to scare you. and after that day, she swore to never sneak up on you again after ending up with a nasty bruise on the side of her face due to the force of your fast reflex.

"and one more thing—and i just know she's gonna kill me for this, but i've spent these past few days trying to figure out how to do this." paige said as the crowd grew quiet in anticipation.

your eyes squinted in confusion as you watched her. you were just as confused as everyone else.

"but tonight is special, so i thought, why not do it tonight? a huge reason why this won't be my last senior night is because of a very, very special woman who has helped me through my tough times and has, in general, made me a better person. without her, or, of course, my fellow teammates, i'm not sure i would have made it through this season so far, and i just want to thank her for being there for me."

the crowd erupted in more cheers, some even shedding a few tears, while you stood with your mouth open, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

"i don't want to make this too sappy or take up too much of your time, so with that being said, i want to ask y/n to come up here, please."

your heart sank. at first, you thought you were hearing the wrong thing, but since the team already knew where you were seated, they all turned towards you and began cheering. i stood in shock as they gestured for me to come down onto the gym floor as the rest of the crowd began clapping and whistling. i watched as a few of the teammates started jumping around with red and pink balloons and a few signs, one of 'i love you'. you wondered how they even managed to hide that.

with a hand over your mouth, you began excusing yourself as you made your way past the fans and down the stairs to the main floor. paige stood in the middle with the microphone still in her hand and a huge smile on her face. your feet felt like they were glued to the ground, and she must've noticed, so she began walking towards you instead.

"y/n, i couldn't tell you why i didn't do this sooner because, honestly, i've loved you since our freshman year here..."

and as paige continued, you felt yourself finally cry. with a huff, you tried to wipe them away before they fell but it was just too many tears escaping at once. her long legs allowed her to reach you in no time and she lifted her free hand to softly wipe the tears that you failed to catch with the pad of her thumb.

"... so, i want to ask you to officially be mine," paige handed the microphone to aaliyah who was nearby, and grabbed my face with both of her hands. "will you be my girlfriend?"

you barely had any time to blink because, as soon as you said yes, the blonde engulfed you in a hug, lifting you off the floor to even spin you around. the crowd loved it.

"paige!" you laughed, as she finally placed you back on your feet. you placed your hands on top of your head in disbelief. "you... i can't believe you did this! you could've asked me on a regular wednesday afternoon, and i would've said yes."

paige scoffed, "you know i'm extra and gotta go all out."

your response was cut short by the rest of the team bombarding you with hugs and more cheers.

"you guys were behind all this?" you asked them, and they all nodded.

"girl, everyone knew about you two. it was so obvious." ice said knowingly, and the rest of the team nodded in agreement. "and jana you owe me ten bucks."

"you guys did not make a bet on me." paige said in disbelief, and jana shrugged.

"i didn't think you would actually do it.”

and as the rest of the team went on in conversation, you grabbed your girlfriend's hand and placed a kiss on the back of her palm.

"i love you."

[restinslices]

ALRIGHT ENOUGH SWEETNESS. LIN KUEI BOYS FIRST TIME FUCKING THEIR PARTNER 🎤 (please)

Omg y’all, my brain let me write again😃

I don’t feel like looking for gifs and my storage space is in hell so I ain’t got photos. Sorry twin

Bi-Han

I know I start his parts off with “the haters will tell you” a lot 

IDC. Imma do it again 

The haters will tell you he won't care and he'll do his own speed and yadyadya. No. 

He's an asshole but be fr y'all 

I'm gonna write this as you're both experienced but it's your first time together. If that's not what you meant then lmk but until then-

You're both experienced but he's still careful 

He's the type to pick up speed fast but he's not immediately gonna be aggressive 

You're experienced but not with each other so he's gonna actively try to be slower and softer 

Very observant towards your needs and adapts quickly 

I think he’s observant in general so I think he’d easily notice how you react to certain things 

More of an action guy 

What I mean is he won’t verbally say a lot. Like you know how some people will ask “does this feel good?”? (That looks ugly as fuck-) He won’t 

He won’t because he’s paying attention to how you react and what gets the best reaction. He doesn’t need to say much 

He’s not completely silent but I don’t think he says much in general, so the first time would especially be quiet because he’s focusing 

Do I think he’s rough during sex? Yes. For the first time though? Probably not. He still feeling shit out

When it comes to making him feel good, he makes sure to let you know. He’d never be the type to lie about nutting. That’s just not him. He’s gonna make sure you do it right 

Very handsy 

He’s vocal when it comes to grunting and I think he’d go out of his way to make noise in your ear if it was something you enjoyed 

Pays attention to both your needs 

I could see him wanting to go a couple rounds before stopping 

Leaves tons of marks as a reminder of what happened 

Now that you’ve started now, don’t be surprised when he wants to do it consistently 

Kuai Liang

Mostly pays attention to what you need 

I think he’s way more verbal than Bi-Han so he’d actually verbally ask what feels good and what doesn’t 

He goes slow

Lots of emphasis on foreplay and trying to set the mood 

His lips are everywhere 

Like legit, every part of you has felt his lips or tongue 

I get it, you may think he’s very fast and intense because fire but no

Fire can also symbolize passion and Kuai Liang is a very passionate lover 

Considering it’s the first time, there’s no need to rush

The type to always be pleasing you. Even if you’re talking or making small comments, his fingers are still gonna be working on you 

When it comes to fucking he’s not doing it fast but how hard he’s going makes up for it 

Will go faster if you ask

Is also leaving marks 

Does frequent check ins to make sure everything is ok

He’s a big dude (in the sense he’s swole as fuck) so he’d probably prefer for you to be on top so he won’t crush you 

If I said he pulls on hair will I be booed or cheered?

If you’re bald then ignore that

Offers to give head. Doesn’t matter if you’re laying down or sitting on his face. He’s leaving here with smth-

The ratio when it comes to orgasming is off as fuck because he’s the type to pull out and start eating you out 

Extra points if it’s after you came 

He’s pulling out all the stops. You’re not going anywhere after this

Doesn’t particularly care how many rounds you go for

Main focus is on how many times you cum. There’s some people that try to be sweet and “I didn’t cum but if you’re tired then-“ don’t piss him off 

You’re either stopping because you’re tired or you’re shaking (or you wanting to stop but that’s not a saucy ending)

Tomas Vrbada

He’s always gonna be a sub to me, idc

He would try so hard to be big man on campus and all strong and shit, but bitch one good tug at the hair and he’s folding 

Lets you take the reigns for the first time 

Don’t think just because he likes being tossed around a lil, he ain’t gonna say how he feels. No 

You can be submissive and still assertive. That’s Tomas 

Similar to Kuai Liang in the sense that he is really focused on what you want and what feels good to you 

Already moans a lot and loud as fuck but he’s especially loud once he’s finally inside you 

He wants to go slow but life happens. The wind just kinda blows this way and next thing you know he’s fucking you like he’s saying goodbye. It’s the winds fault fr 

Is also verbal with what he wants and wants you to be too 

You’d think y’all have fucked several times with how comfortable he is when it comes to saying what he’s into. What do you mean “choke me”?

What do you mean you wanna fuck the cum outta someone or vice versa? Let’s take a breather, calm down, gather our thoughts-

Once he’s horny his brain shuts off and the whore comes out. You’d expect it’d be Bi-Han that would become this bold, but no. He’s bold all the time. Tomas gives mfs whiplash. 

Like bro we were just eating dinner 20 minutes ago

Like I said, he’s really focused on what you want since it’s your first time. You gotta leave an impression 

Is his brain cells shutting off? Yes. Will them bitches turn back on if he notices you don’t like something or you say something feels weird? Yes 

He’s attentive 

Probably came before you because he’s sensitive but he’s not the type to roll over and be like “welp, guess it’s a wrap”

He wants your brain to be as fuzzy as his and he’s determined to make that shit happen 

Idk why I changed my profile to this Fear Street aesthetic when I never write for them but here we are. I wanted to change it and this is where I landed.

[ddejavvu]

I’m such a simp for jealous!reader and jealous!hotch lmaooooo

What if reader and Hotch were married and had other kiddos so they had to split off for sports activities (jack at soccer and other kiddos at basketball or something). Then like either jack or other kiddos thing gets done early and then either hotch or reader sees their spouse getting hit in repeatedly and becomes jealous and territorial?

Soccer is different than baseball in that there are soccer moms, but baseball dads. The moms that happen to be there take a backseat on the bleachers while the dads huddle around the fence, shouting instructions in on their trembling kids scared to bat.

It means that while Aaron has to deal with women in form-fitting workout gear when he picks Jack up from soccer practice, you have to deal with dads in baseball caps, jeans, and shitty sunglasses.

Your daughter is getting good at baseball, something you're insanely proud of while you cheer along from the bleachers. Aaron would be proud, too, if he were here to see it. But he's on Jack duty today, because you wanted to catch this game. You're hoping the boys make it to the field in time to see her close out the game, but you're nearing the halfway point and there's no sign of them.

"Alright, Sophie!" You cheer, watching her strike an opposing batter out, "Good throw, baby!"

"Ah, she's yours?" A voice comes from your left, and you see a man backing away from the fence to approach you.

"She is," You beam, eyes fixated once more on your daughter, "Which one's yours?"

"Number 15," He points to one of the girls on the bench, She.. tries her best."

You recognize the brunette ponytail on the girl, remembering that she's been having a hard time with batting. When she's able to hit the ball, it's always a good shot, but more often than not she misses.

"I'm sure she'll get better the more she plays!" You promise her dad, and he nods, perching on the end of the bench just below you, "That's what happened with Sophie, before we did at-home practices she was really struggling."

The man's face twists into intrigue, something deeper than that rooted in his eyes as he stares you down, "Oh, you practiced with her? Maybe Angel could use that, too. Are you, uh, taking applications?"

"Oh," You laugh, "No, that's- I'm not a coach or anything. In fact- uh, my husband and son were probably more helpful than I was."

It's like you've cut the power to the man's megawatt smile. The light in his face dims, and his face sours as he stands to walk away, "Oh. Understood."

It's then that you come to the disheartening realization that he was flirting with you. Not only that, but he'd only played nice when he thought he had a shot. Now that he knows you're spoken for, he's hooked back over the fence, shouting at the players.

A hand drapes itself over your collarbones from behind, and you startle before you realize that Aaron is hugging you from the other side of the bleachers.

"Oh!" You gush, letting Jack clamor into your lap to hug you while Aaron walks around to sit beside you, 'You scared me, Aaron."

"Sorry," He grins bashfully, scanning the field and seeing Sophie talking to the coach, "How is she doing?"

"Good," You grin, smoothing out Jack's sweaty post-soccer hair, "She just struck that little brat from the other team out, the one who got mud on her popsicle last time."

"Good girl," Aaron chuckles, watching Jack rush off to play with a few other kids by the trunk of a big tree, "Who were you talking to?"

"Angel's dad," You recall uneasily, "Uh- number fifteen. He was-"

"Flirting with you," Aaron concludes, "I know."

"You saw?" You ask warily, eyes apologetic, "Aaron, I'm sorry, I- I didn't realize until he left, and then you got there, so I just forgot about it, but if you want I can avoid him next time, or-"

"Hey," Aaron sets a hand on your thigh, leaning in to kiss you softly, "It's alright. Don't worry about it, I'm not angry."

"You're not?" Your brows furrow, and he leans in to kiss you again, wiping the expression from your face.

"No," He shakes his head, forehead leaned against yours briefly, "Well- I was, but he totally just saw me kiss you. Twice. So..."

"Oh," You laugh bashfully, leaning over to tuck your face against his shoulder, "Well, that's good. Hopefully he leaves me alone."

"Hopefully," Aaron agrees, squeezing you closer with his arm around your shoulder, "Oh, don't look now, but he's talking to Jia's mom."

"Which one?" You retort, something smug lining your features as you wonder how she'll break the news to him.

"Gloria," He tries not to stare, ducking his gaze back down to your face instead, "Hey, perfect place to tell someone you bat for the other team."