#transitional tv room

[genreawareness]

every day i log onto tumblr dot com and wish to be driven as completely and utterly insane by a piece of television again as i was black sails

[arodrwho]

i am going. to scream

[iloverianjohnson]

the sge movie was terrible. let me tell you exactly why i think it sucked

i think they messed up sophie and agatha's friendship. they were never lovey-dovey or "besties for life!" kind of friends. sophie was using agatha as her "good deed" to get into the school for good and evil, and agatha knew this. from this toxic relationship emerged a real friendship, but not really until they got to the school for good and evil. also, one of sophie's main character traits is that she's a shallow bitch who uses everyone to get what she wants (and we love her for that!), but they completely removed that trait when they made her "besties!!" with agatha.

wishing tree?? hello?? let sophie be obsessed with fairytales!! i know they had to do it for the exposition and for the people who've never read the books but they're not doing her character justice.

agatha's personality?? where did it go?? where did my frumpy, grumpy, sarcastic, witchy teenage girl go?? they barely gave her any of her original personality - she wasn't even slightly grumpy until she went to the school for good and evil.

tedros and agatha's relationship. it was so DRAB. the enemies to lovers banter was barely there!

i love sofia wylie... and i have literally no problem with agatha being a POC, i have to admit that sofia wylie is conventionally attractive. agatha is not supposed to be conventionally attractive. she is the opposite of the beauty standard, which is one of the contrasting traits between her and sophie. if they chose an actress who definitely does not fit the beauty standard and had agatha's whole self-realization plotline, it would have fit much better with the story. again this has nothing to do with sofia wylie being POC, so please don't take that the wrong way.

what happened to the swan crests??

why was the school master shown. like the biggest mystery of the first book is the school master. they ruined all the fun by introducing him at the very beginning.

where's sader? where's princess uma? WHERE IS CASTOR AND POLLUX????

the beast?? where's the beast at?

why was sophie punished for talking to an ever... when they were literally in the same dining room... they ruined her whole transition into evilness by having Lesso cut off her hair instead of the beast.

THE RANKINGS. THEY GOT RID OF THE RANKINGS. WE NEVER GOT TO SEE SOPHIE'S "F IS FOR..." OUTFITS.

also Lesso's character was fucked up. they took evelyn sader's plotline and meshed it with hers and it makes me so mad because it takes away from her future relationship with Dovey and it strips her of her character!

WHY WAS DOVEY LIKE THAT.

um where was the circus of talents?? like was that not the biggest thing that happened in the whole book... soman i'm so disappointed in you.

i liked how they did the trial by tale in the movie but i wish they kept the original plotline.

they did my boy yuba so dirty.

also the forest groups was so annoying to watch. i wanted to see sophie and agatha mingle with tedros in the forest.

wtf is this blood magic stuff. did we all collectively forget that entire thing happened in book 5 (or was it book 4? i don't even remember)

they could've made this a 10-episode TV show so easily. they didn't have to get lawrence fishburne or kerry washington or michele yeoh. they could've given smaller actors/actresses a big platform. if each episode was an hour long, we would've gotten much more than we got in this shitty movie. each season could be 1 book. catch my drift? netflix, you know i'm onto something.

i wanted a groom room scene.

the ever's ball. ugh. they did agatha so dirty.

HER CIRCUS OF TALENTS GOWN WAS REMOVED BECAUSE THERE WAS NO CIRCUS OF TALENTS

they did hester so dirty. like where was her witchiness? her superiority complex? her intense and undying love for her coven even though she insults and belittles them constantly?

ANADIL!! where were her rats?? also i think i saw someone else point this out that they could've cast an albino person because she is albino in the books. there's already so little albino representation. and that doesn't mean she can't be black, she could be a black albino person. i did love the girl who played her though.

i wanted more coven scenes.

tedros was not annoying like he was in the book and i was mad about it lmao

agatha and tedros felt so forced!!

that's all i can think of right now. im so mad about the movie that im going to go write an entire screenplay for a 10-episode tv series.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 1: "Welcome To New York"

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

"Alright, I'm here," Sam announces to Nick Fury, quickly striding into the room looking particularly annoyed at being called in for some super-secret reason that apparently couldn't be discussed over the phone - on his day off.

"Good timing. I've got someone for you to meet. Someone I think would be an excellent candidate for the Avengers initiative."

Sam’s head tilts slightly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Shouldn't this go to Steve or Tony? Why me?"

"She has her… detriments and I think it would be better if she was slowly introduced. To avoid overwhelming her."

“If she’s easily overwhelmed, this is probably not the job for her,” Sam retorts.

“Trust me when I tell you it’s for your own benefit that we don’t overwhelm her,” Nick cryptically comments.

"Not another assassin. Please not another assassin," Sam begs, it was bad enough that two of his closest friends were super soldiers and he was constantly surrounded by people who were trained to kill him in the blink of an eye, he didn't want to add another person to that list.

"She's not an assassin. Just unfamiliar with the world."

 Sam’s eyes narrow in suspicion. "How unfamiliar?"

"Very," Nick says, sliding over the file to him.

Sam skims it at first, barely taking in any of the information in front of him. Then the further he goes, the more enthralled and interested in your story he becomes and the more certain he becomes that he is not the man for the job. "She's never had contact with the outside world?"

"No."

"I can't take this on." Sam immediately slides the file back. "This is a job for Steve, Bruce- Vision, even. You want me to introduce her to everything? On top of all the baggage that this girl has. Do you hear how crazy that sounds?"

"She's unassimilated, but highly intelligent and very powerful. This is a person we want on our side."

"Don't you have agents for this kind of thing?"

"Wilson, she's a completely clean slate. A human raised in captivity without the slightest clue about the outside world. The next 2 years of her life will be the strangest, most difficult transition period we’ve ever seen, and it will make or break her," Fury forcefully states, sliding the file back. "In the wrong hands, she could be an apocalyptic threat. Now, I need someone on the straight and narrow. Someone with patience and experience that can work with her- introduce her to the world. You’ve got experience working with people with PTSD, para-rescue, you’re the perfect person for this- I want it to be you."

"I want to meet her first," Sam bites back, refusing to agree to anything until he meets this mysterious person.

"Fine."

Together they walk into a small room just off to the side. It's brightly colored with a small TV mounted to the wall. There's scattered toys and books all around the room. It's for all intents and purposes a room for children, so he has to wonder why you're in here at all. He doesn't see your face, your back is turned and you're staring out the window, completely oblivious to the two men. Sam calls your name, not loudly enough that you’re certain he’s talking to you. You remain completely still, staring at the busy streets and not moving a muscle to avoid doing the wrong thing.

"Hey," Nick calls a little louder and you unfreeze at the familiar voice, the one person you’d come to trust. You whirl around and Sam has to admit that you are not what he expected. You take a look at the two men and watch them for a minute longer than socially acceptable, making Sam a little uncomfortable.

Nick points to Sam. "He's a friend. Good guy."

"Friend?" you cautiously nod, sliding off the window sill and slowly approaching the two of them. 

"Friend."

You nod again with a little more assurance. "Hello."

"Hi, I'm Sam. Sam Wilson," he reaches out to shake your hand. You jolt back from his hand, and he doesn't miss the fear that momentarily flashes in your eyes. Sam takes his own hand and demonstrates a handshake with himself. "Just a handshake. I won't hurt you."

"Handshake?" you echo, your tone questioning.

"Handshake- it's another way to say hello," Sam further explains.

"Ah...I understand."

"How about you take her on a walk? She hasn't seen much of New York yet."

Sam side-eyes Fury, knowing exactly what he's trying to do. "Fine," he smiles, then whispers to Fury, "But I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"You will," Fury confidently states.

-

Sam's intently watching you, watching as you take in the busy city streets and the loud noise, and he waits for the inevitable moment of culture shock. For you to look at him in fear and try to run back to the building. But you don't. You're looking at the world with the awe and wonderment of a child being let loose in the city for the first time.

"You hungry?" he asks, nudging his head to the hot dog cart on the other side of the street.

"Hungry?" you repeat.

"Eat. Like food?"

You nod, excited at hearing a familiar word. "Yes, I eat food."

"I know," he chuckles. "We all do."

"This is a hot dog," Sam explains, walking up to the cart. "You can get whatever you want on it, but people will judge you based on what you decide. I'd recommend starting you off with a plain one."

You simply nod your head along to what he's saying, piecing together the words as quickly as you can while also trying to puzzle together the man in front of you. Though you weren't experienced with people, for some reason you felt like you could trust the man in front of you, even beyond Fury's assurances- he seemed kind, patiently explaining things to you without condescension. You decided right then and there that you could listen to your instincts and trust the man.  

"Okay," he nods, then turns away from you to order. With two hot dogs in his hand, the two of you make your way to a nearby park bench to eat. 

You smile at Sam, almost finished with your hot dog. "This is good."

"Glad you like it."

When you're done, you take the waxy paper and ball it up in your hand. Sam looks in confusion as you look at the ball in your hand. As he's about to offer to throw it away for you, you set the paper on fire and let it burn in your hand. 

"Jesus," Sam jolts back, away from the small, yet contained, fire. "That's one way to get rid of your garbage." You open your hand again to show Sam the few remaining ashes, then let the wind carry them away. "Cool."

You smile, closing your hand again. "You like?"

"Very cool."

You hold out your closed hand to Sam again. Then with a grin, you open it to reveal a small sunflower in your palm. "For you," you nod, gesturing for him to grab it.

Sam gently grabs the flower, rolling it in between his pointer finger and thumb. He sighs in resignation, too quiet for you to hear over the loud cityscape, "I'm going to regret this."

By the time the two of you make it back, Fury has a knowing smirk on his face- it's almost enough to make Sam change his mind. "I'll do it."

"Told you. She grows on you."

Sam rolls his eyes, grabbing the file again. "Yeah, yeah. What exactly does this entail?"

“You’re going to be in charge of making her a fully functional adult, then a fully functional Avenger.”

“Fine, but we’re going to do this my way.”

“That’s fair. There’s about a handful of people that know about her, I highly suggest you only include those absolutely vital to her development. Everything else is in the file, her full history, everything we know about her. It’s all there.”

“Anything else?” Sam exhales deeply.

“Yes, actually,” Nick hesitantly sighs. ”Be gentle.”

“She grew on you too?” Sam sarcastically remarks, fully expecting Fury to laugh at him- except he doesn't.

“You’ve spent all of an hour with her and you agreed to a 24/7 detail for an undetermined amount of time. I’ve been watching her for almost a month. Do with that what you will.”

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[coffee-latte-sprite]

Damian Al Ghul and the Annoying Reporter

Series Masterlist

Epilogue

Aged up!Damian Al Ghul x fem!reader

WC: 2,000

Warnings: blood mention (nothing graphic, it was used as an example), language

Synopsis:

A year after the famous interview with Damian Al Ghul, life isn't as good as she thought it would be.

“Hello and welcome back viewers to Metro News. I am your host Camilia Carmen and here today with me is the CEO of People’s Press, Y/N L/N.” Camilia said as her bright smile stared back at the TV camera. 

“Hello everyone.” Y/N said as she sat by the TV primetime news anchor. 

“Thank you so much for taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to speak with us today Y/N.” Camilia said as she turned towards her guest. 

Y/N smiled and waved her off, “Of course! I have been watching this show for years, big fan.” 

“Oh thank you! And we are very big fans of your new book and news outlet. Your book,” Camilia brought out Y/N’s book and showed it to the camera, “is now the #1 bestseller not only in the United States, but now in France, Germany, Italy, South Korea, and coming up into the ranks of other countries. How does this success feel for you?” 

Y/N blushed, “You know, this fame doesn’t quite feel like I am famous. Many people come up to me and ask me for an autograph and a picture and go on their way with some words of praise. The fame of my book though, did help my company to take off which I am truly grateful for.” 

Camilia jumped onto the transition segment.

Y/N has done so many interviews, she knows exactly how to transition seamlessly. 

“Yes, your company is also dominating as a news article distributor, the People’s Press. This company is also doing significantly well, even better than your competitor the Daily Planet. Its CEO has not given a statement to its recent surface of favoritism.” Camilia said with a twang of venom.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She proved all of them wrong. She proved her boss wrong, her parents, her best friend, and even her dog wrong. 

“My company truly is my pride and joy. I am glad I am able to create articles about our local and international news. I want to bring new and young and old voices alike to retell stories or their take on recent events. It has created a healthy work environment for all workers and everyone is benefiting from this, my writers and readers.” Y/N said with passion. Her joy was contagious as everyone in the room felt her extreme happiness for the new direction of news and diversity in voices. 

“Very well put Y/N. Also, speaking of new voices, in your groundbreaking novel, you brought a new voice to light and helped all of us have compassion for our enemies. Would you like to give a little explanation to your book, or inspiration?” Camilia asked as she sat back in her chair. 

“Oh of course! My novel, How to Shatter an Heir, is about my experience towards the heir of the League of Assassins. I wanted to expand on his personal stories and trama. He has experienced so much since the literal day he was born. He lost a childhood and a father. I wanted to show the world their is more to a villian than just a sword and blood.” Y/N said as her heart sped up faster. She couldn’t hear her own voice anymore, it was just the thrumming of her heart. 

“And you definitely accomplished that, but are you sure there was nothing else to this novel?” Camilia asked with a sly smile. 

Y/N deflated and anger rose up in the back of her throat. “Yes, in this novel I wanted to show how a person is more than their parents and who they have a relationship with.” Y/N said pointedly. 

Camilia picked up on the hint and dropped the subject, “Well, thank you so much for your time today Y/N and again, congratulations on your success, you deserve it all.” Camilia smiled and turned back to the camera, “thank you for your time today viewers, and remember, Superman, is for all.” 

===

Y/N walked down the rainy sidewalk as people ran past her with their hoods up and racing against the raindrops. Y/N didn’t mind, she was to lost in thoughts to care about her hair or jacket. 

Besides, the rain reminds her of when Damian left. 

She doesn’t remember what happened to her after she was kidnapped, she just remembers pain, being shot, then Damian’s embrace. After that,  all was fuzzy. 

She remembers waking up in a hospital and being all alone. She never saw Damian again, but all of the nurses kept saying how their was a man who was frantic in making sure she was okay. 

It was definitely Damian by the description, but she didn’t understand why he would leave her with nothing more than $1,000 to get home. 

Y/N was broken from her thoughts when her phone rang, she picked it up immediately. “Hello?” 

“Your dog hates me and you need to come home.” Jon said from the line as she heard Bella barking. 

After Y/N created her company, the Kent's son, Jon, knocked on her door and asked if he could work with her. And as one for cold revenge, Y/N hired him on the spot.

He was her personal assistant as he helped her with everything. She was honestly thinking of giving him the company if she were to retire anytime soon. 

“Bella does not hate you, she just misses me.” Y/N said as she laughed to herself. 

“Yeah, well come home.” He said bitterly. 

“You can go home Jon, I’ll be there in half an hour.” Y/N said as she stood under a near by awning. 

“Thank God! Okay, bye!” And the line went dead. 

Y/N laughed to herself and looked up at the rumbling sky. This is what fame and fortune felt like. 

Y/N then frowned.

If this is what it felt like, then why was it so lonely? 

===

Y/N kicked off her heels and threw her wet coat across the back of her couch. From her wealth, she was able to move from her little apartment to a penthouse suite, and from this she adopted more little furry friends, which Bella wasn’t 100% sold on as she liked the attention only on her. 

“Bells, I’m home!” Y/N yelled as she stretched out her back and legs. 

Only silence welcomed her back. 

“Bella?” She asked again as this was out of the ordinary. 

She then started to run around the suite looking for her dog. 

Then, as she got to her room, she saw a dark figure over Bella on her back. She screamed in terror as she picked up her lamp and chucked it at the figure. 

They cursed and jumped out of the way. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” A man yelled. 

“Bella!” She screamed as she ran to her dog, who was very much alive and happy. She jumped up and was wagging her tail with her tongue hanging out. “Wait, you’re okay?” 

“Of course she is!” The man said again. 

She then turned to look at the intruder to stop in her tracks.

Before her stood a Damian Al Ghul in a tailored suite and slicked back hair. 

“Damian?” 

“The one and only. And I see your aim with your lamps has gotten better.” He said with a slight chuckle. 

She didn’t share the same happiness. 

All joy of seeing him left in an instant, “Get out, you have no right being here and breaking an entry.” 

Damian stilled as the smile dropped from his face. 

“Don’t you dare give me that look. You left me, remember? You left me in a country I didn’t know and I was scared. When I literally needed you the most of all of the time we were together, you were nowhere. All I got was that some man was worried about me, nothing else. So get out!” Y/N said as the sting of tears was strong, but she would not allow herself to cry, not in front of this coward. 

“I knew you would be mad,” He began. 

“And you still did it anyway?” She said coldly. 

He winced, “Yes, because Slade’s men were still after me.” He said reluctantly. 

Y/N stopped for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Slade was gone, but his ideology was still strong. All of his men were still after me, they thought you had died. I saw them in the lobby of the hospital, and I ran. Of course, they followed, I then . . . got rid of them. I wasn’t sure how many more of Slade’s men were still alive, so I left. I knew you were safer with me gone. I wish I stayed, you have no idea how that ate away at me.” Damian confessed as his shoulders slumped. 

The rain outside hit the glass harder as the room was drenched in darkness, but neither of them cared. 

“I then left for my father's in America. My mother, I knew, wouldn’t help me, so I left for my father’s. I didn’t know if he would help me, but apparently, he is known for his charity.” He said with an eye roll. “Father took me in with no questions asked and has housed me for over a year. He has been training me to become his successor since his first, second, and third son did not want the company.” 

“What is the name of the company?”

“Wayne Industries.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. Wayne Industries was the first company to invest in hers. She couldn’t believe it. 

“So, why are you back? Asking for a refund since I did get rich off of you.” She asked as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Damian coughed, “Actually no, you got rich on your own merit. Without your crazy, suicidal, idea of interviewing a murderer, you would not be crazy rich.” 

Y/N blushed, “Thanks, but why are you really here?” 

“Well, Titus misses you, and I thought you would like. . . to see him again.” Damain said awkwardly. 

“Oh, if it for Titus, then of course!” She said enthusiastically. 

“Although, there is someone else, someone very naive, stupid, and suicidal who also wanted to see you again.” 

Y/N paused, “who is that?” 

He paused, “Me.” 

“You?” 

“Me.”

“Why?” 

“This is so hard. Well, apparently, you have lasting consequences! You have weakened me and made me insomniatic with the thoughts of you!” He said exasperated. 

Y/N gaped, “W-w-what?” 

“You have,” he stepped closer, “bewitched me. Body,” he took another step, “mind,” step, “and soul.” His fingers pushed her hair behind her ear, “I’m in love with you.” 

Y/N's heart thundered in her chest as she was in sheer disbelief.

“And I wondered, are you in love with me too? Or am I a fool?” He asked if his heart echoed hers. 

Y/N smiled, “You are a fool.” His heart dropped, “but you are my fool.” And she leaned forward closer towards him, waiting for him to catch her, he did. 

“Well, how fortunate am I then.” He responded and leaned down to her lips. 

His lips ghosted hers as his heart squeezed, he wasn’t enough for her. No one was good enough for her. She deserved the world, she deserved all the stars in the sky. 

Y/N spoke, her voice barely heard, “you’re my universe.”

And Damian’s lips crashed into hers. Their lips locked together in perfect harmony as each of their souls shined bright. No storm, assassin, or mother could get between him and his annoyingly perfect reporter.

A/N: wow, this is it. This feels so unreal that this series is over. I have been doing this series for a year and this is the end. This is my favorite series I have ever written and thankful for the journey. I hope everyone loved it as much as me! <3

Taglist: @royalmuffinsworld / @rory-cakes / /@jasontoddsloverrr / @rivas0309 / @giselatropicana / @atlaincorrect / @acupnoodle / @geeksareunique / @1-800-cherri / @mymomsdisappointment / @dreamsdemxn / @hollyharper / @andysnewgroove / @cherriebat /@twilight-loveer

[ayfinchwrites]

RAIN OR SHOWERS // Choi San

Type // Oneshot

Genre // fluff, cozy

Words // 1.2k

Blurb // A cozy night in with San takes a comedic turn when the members arrive home early from practice.

\-.-/

You sat by the window in the high rise apartment watching the rain come down on the city below. Seoul had always been such an interesting place to you, it was so different from your hometown in many ways, some good some bad as with any place. There was, however, one thing about Seoul that could never be beat, and he was showering in the next room.

It was edging on nightfall, the electric lights began to flicker on one by one throughout the city. It was your favorite part of the day, watching Seoul transition for the night. The rain was only elevating the experience.

You heard the water turn off from the bathroom and sat up in a hurry. Your job had been to make the popcorn and prep for the movie but you had been so enamored by the rain that it had slipped your mind. You hurried into the kitchen and began pulling out supplies atop the marble countertops. Popcorn and sandwich cookies. You reached over and turned off the oven. You had been roasting chestnuts for a couple hours now as another movie snack. You did not normally eat roasted chestnuts as a movie snack but since coming to Korea and going to the theaters here, it had become one of your favorites.

You slipped on an oven mitt and pulled the tray from the oven and set it on the counter. You were baited to try one right now, but elected to wait on account of probably burning your tongue. With a sigh you popped open the microwave and started the bag of popcorn.

You shuffled back over to your window seat and resumed watching the heavy rain. A light fog had begun to drape over the lower buildings. You heard a door click and turned around to find San emerging from the bathroom. His dark hair was slick and fell over his eyes in wet pieces. He was wearing his large black hoodie, a favorite of yours to steal. You fought the urge to just run up and hug him and instead slowly stood and made your way to him.

“The chestnuts are done, I pulled out the cookies and-”

You were cut off by the microwave beeping.

You chuckled, “And… evidently the popcorn is done too.”

You reached up and ran a hand through his hair. He had towel dried it. You could always tell because of how soft it felt, even when it was damp.

Not being able to resist any longer you pulled him into a hug, your face becoming engulfed by his hoodie. He squeezed you tighter in reply.

“It smells really good.” His voice echoed with your head on his chest.

You both pulled away and made your ways to the kitchen to retrieve the movie snacks. You slid some of the cooled chestnuts into a bowl while San grabbed the popcorn and cookies. You had previously raided San’s closet and pulled out any blankets he had stored away. As a result, two quilts and a sherpa throw were strewn across the couch. San chuckled at the sight and set the popcorn and cookies down onto the coffee table before flopping onto the couch. You followed suit and cuddled up beside him, pulling a quilt over your shoulders.He adjusted his position to drape an arm over your shoulder and pull you closer.

After a minute you noticed San cursed under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned him looking up to his face.

He began to laugh, “The remote.”

You fell into a quiet fit of laughter and watched as he tried to fish the remote from the far end of the coffee table with his foot. You playfully hit his shoulder and sat up to reach out and grab it.

“There, now we’re actually ready.” You said and switched on the TV.

You had suggested a new movie earlier but San proposed watching an old favorite. You couldn’t help but agree because the movie made the both of you laugh uncontrollably at times.

You selected your streaming channel and pressed play on Pipeline*.

Eating snacks and listening to the rain all while spending a cozy night in with San. It was heavenly.

“Imagine if we could do this all the time.” You whispered to him.

His lips broke into a grin, “Imagine.” He echoed and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

Just then the front door opened and loud chatter spilled into the living room. The boys were back from their schedule already. You and San had both seen this movie so many times neither of you bothered to pause for the interruption.

“Oh hey, I love this movie!” Mingi shouted and trudged past you both to drop down onto the window seat, he tossed his practice bag onto the floor by his feet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you two were busy.” Yeo apologized and heads to his bedroom, red flushed his cheeks. “I’m showering first!” He yelled.

“Ya!” Joong pushed his way through the front door, his hair damp with sweat from practice, “I thought you said you weren’t feeling good.”

He pointed his finger at San, then rested his hand on his waist.

“I was but then I felt fine.” San paused for a moment before continuing, “Now that you mention it, I’m starting to feel a little sick again. Maybe I’m allergic to you captain.”

At that Joong raised his brows and paused for a moment.

“You little shit.” He muttered under his breath.

“No, I think that’d be you.” San replied to his comment.

That was it. Hongjoong stomped over and slugged San in the arm.

“Guys,” Hwa cautions, though a smirk is fixed upon his lips.

San burst into laughter and got up from the couch to wrestle with Joong.

“Why,” Seonghwa began, his words directed towards you, “would you voluntarily choose to deal with this?” He chuckled and shook his head.

You just laughed in reply and turned to find Jongho had joined Mingi on the window seat and they were both watching the movie as if San and Hongjoong weren’t wrestling right in front of them.

Yep, you had to love cozy rainy nights at the dorm. You just had to.

You heard Yunho’s laugh ring out from the kitchen as he leaned on the counter and snacked on some of the leftover chestnuts that hadn’t fit into the bowl. It was hard to tell if he was laughing at San and Joong or the movie, he seemed to be dividing his attention between both of them.

Seonghwa was still standing by the doorway, you pat the couch cushion beside you. An offer you extended, Hwa had never had a problem with you always being around for San but he was sometimes overly polite. You always tried to do what you could to make everyone feel more comfortable about your presence.

He smiled and took a seat next to you as you both watched as their little fight subsided.

Out of breath and laughing, San plopped back down on the couch into his original spot and slung an arm over your shoulder. Joong had just ended up spread out like a starfish on the ground watching the movie. You all settled down and fell into watching the film.

After a couple minutes you noticed Hongjoong snoring quietly and you glanced up at San. He chuckled softly and pulled you closer.

(*Seriously ya’ll, watch the movie Pipeline if you get the chance. It is actually so hilarious and you get to see Seo In-guk and Lee Soo-hyuk muahaha. Not to mention my mans Soo-hyuk plays a real good psycho and let me just say *wow*).

[marowreck-archive]

i get so defensive over the whole transmisandry isnt real discourse thing.

people are out there acting like this is an Online Take or whatever but dude? I'm part of my local transmasculinities group. in that group we have nonbinary people, transgender men, men on t, men that cant go on t, other transexual people that don't even know what transgender is. poor people, people that are more well off, working class people, all different kinds of people. and these people in real life IN A COUNTRY YOU DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT (aka not the us) are fighting for the same thing, we just don't use that one word! we are fighting to be seen and be heard because we know we are erased and we know our struggles are massively downplayed by literally everybody. we are fighting for our rights too.

did you know that the biggest lgbt parade in the world (são paulo, brazil!) has been holding online parades the past few covid years? they last over 10 hours! i managed to watch some of it the past couple years, and they are very interesting. they hold discussions and talk to other lgbt people. did you know that last year out of those 600 minutes of duration, we had about 2 minutes of representation? 2 minutes of transmasculine people onscreen. we were literally BARELY acknowledged at all. i can think of ONE single trans man character in national tv on the past 10 years or so. shouldn't we fight to be in these discussions? shouldn't we be acknowledged as a part of the community that exists?

by the way! this is literally the country where public healthcare covers gender affirming care! do you know what they don't cover in a lot of places though? testosterone! it's not over the counter either, so you have to get checked by a particular doctor! or do 2 years of the required gender therapy if you want any surgeries done then wait 10 years on the waiting list. there also is minimal infrastructure to deal with transmasculine people that want procedures because most doctors simply aren't aware that transition also goes the other way. Doctors refuse to help transmascs transition because they don't want to "ruin young girl's bodies" (literally something said to me! on a consultation i was paying for!). this didn't happen JUST TO ME. we're just regarded as fucked up delusional girls by doctors! this is literally a whole thing that just happens! my friend couldn't get his top surgery with a doctor because "nah you don't look enough of a man. come back later when you do". shouldn't we fight for our rights to be treated medically?? to be respected on whatever we want to do (or not!) with our bodies?

you literally CAN'T tell us we're not erased or aren't oppressed against unless you have your head THAT DEEP in your own damn ass, dude. you can't tell us we're in the wrong for also wanting to be heard and respected. read the room a little. talk to real people maybe??

[changsbin]

[9:17PM] kim seungmin is not a morning person. every sense is overwhelming when he first wakes up. he opens his eyes, and it is immediately too bright. he can hear the routine drone of the crow that has seemingly nested right outside of the bedroom window. the feeling of sweat beading on his forehead has him shoving the covers away from his body, closer to you. as he tastes his morning breath, he almost gags—and the smell does him no favors either.

the fundamental components of morning are simply too much for him; seungmin is a night owl through and through. every day, the sun casts beautiful, gold-tinted shadows across the planes of his face, and you find him alluring as he settles into the evening’s peaceful embrace. seungmin has told you before that nighttime is relaxing—the day’s happenings have passed, his stomach is full, and he gets to spend time with you. and, in this regard, seungmin is a maximalist; he makes sure to watch at least 3 episodes of a drama with you before transitioning to your customary gossip sessions. after, he shuffles around in his backpack and digs out his ancient wired earphones, and the two of you trade song recommendations for so long that hours pass by like seconds.

you know and understand seungmin’s quirks like the back of your hand. he loves to have pop music playing through the speakers while you’re talking about your days. he hates the heaviness of the fluffy blanket while you’re watching tv, but tolerates it because he hates being separated from you even more. above all, however, he is adamant about health and cleanliness; seungmin refuses to sleep anywhere other than the comfort of your shared bed.

which explains your genuine concern for his well-being when you enter your living room only to find him comatose adjacent on the couch. his arm is hanging off the edge, and his fingers are brushing the carpet—you have to give him a once-over just to make sure he hasn’t stopped breathing. but, after your initial panic, a warm smile dances on the corners of your lips.

on a normal day, this is around the time when the two of you would turn on hometown cha cha cha. tonight, however, your knees press into the floor as you settle near seungmin’s head and gently fold his discarded arm over his chest. tilting your head to rest against his shoulder, you make yourself small to admire his natural beauty for as long as you are able. you watch the perpetual rise and fall of your lover’s chest, accompanied only by the quiet snore he produces on the inhale. in this unusual quietude, you swear the subtle beating of his heart is all the more audible.

“kim seungmin,” you murmur while tracing the bridge of his nose, “what happened to our hometown cha cha cha screening? don’t tell me you’re bailing ... ” you continue along your path, and the pads of your fingers make it to his plush bottom lip before his eyelids begin to flutter open. you feel him smile under your touch, and the lighting of the room grows dim at the mere conceptualization of seungmin’s happiness.

he hums, and the vibrations tickle your fingers. “i would never,” he chuckles through sleep, “i was just waiting for your glorious return.”

“mmh, glorious indeed,” you giggle before standing from your spot on the floor.  “oh, also—there’s leftover seolleongtang in the kitchen. you know ... if you need some comfort after realizing that you’ve just napped someplace that isn’t under our covers.”

seungmin shudders at your words and pries himself away from the drooling jaws of exhaustion. his eyes are slightly swollen, and the hair at the back of his head is visible as he looks up at you. the glow emanating from the lamp frames his bedhead to create a halo, and for a moment, his lips move but you don’t hear anything—too enraptured by his presence.

“[y/n] ... you okay?”

directing your lovesick gaze back to his eyes, the amount of adoration held in your heart for kim seungmin hits you tenfold. craning your neck, you place a soft kiss on the top of his head and card your fingers through his wild, likely-still-gel-ridden hair. “more than.” pausing, you offer him a stupid grin, “so ... dinner and a show?”

seungmin scoffs to hide the sincere laughter threatening to spill from his mouth, “obviously.”

[maginxlia]

Starring JJK Men In ✰ Taken

The Cast Line up ✰ Kento, Satoru, Suguru, Toji and Sukuna

Rated TV-PG 13

Contains Violence and Foul Language

Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mentions of Blood, Weapons and being Kidnapped

No pronouns in this bih

Summary❤️‍🔥 The Men reactions to you getting kidnapped by curses

This was Requested by the Lovely @habiba00xoxo ❤️‍🔥 I hope y’all enjoy these❤️‍🔥 Stay Hydrated and take your meds Bbys

Navigation

Nanami Kento

✰ The day started like all others, Nanami woke up early for his work day, Got ready and completed his morning routine by kissing you goodbye

✰ He went to work expecting to be back into your loving arms later when he’s thoroughly overworked and exhausted but when he came back home from work the house was oddly quiet, dark and empty

✰ He could feel curse energy present and he automatically feared the worst

✰ Turning on the lights he saw something that scared the hell out of him…Blood.

Blood that came all the way from the two of you shared bed all the way to kitchen and out the shattered patio door

✰ He went outside fearing that he would find you cold and Dead but he got a small shock of relief when he didn’t find your body…. You could still be alive

✰ The cowardly curse ripped you from your warm bed and snatched you from the your home injuring you in the process

✰ Nanami was pissed but he had to keep his head, Every Second wasted could push you into death's arms

✰ He have unlimited amount of resources at his disposal and he will not hesitate to use them

✰ Contacting all the other Sorcerers he began the search for you, He warned them to be careful and to contact him if they find you and your captor

✰ Gojo supported him doing this time, being a shoulder to cry on and also the help he needed

✰ Yuuji and Megumi Helped clean your place for him after all the evidence was collected

✰ For two days you were missing, Nanami couldn’t sleep or eat knowing you were out there hurt and suffering

✰ It was going on the second night without you when Nanami got a call from Gojo that he believed he found you hold up in a abandoned house

✰ Nanami rushed to you, He thanked Gojo when he made it to where you were being held

✰ He was quick to tell Gojo that he wanted to handle this himself, Gojo obeyed his friend wishes and waited in case he needed backup

✰ Walking in Nanami braced himself for what he would find, The curse standing watched over your trembling form

✰ You are strong but Nanami doesn’t know how much more you could take, your abdomen was soaked with blood and you looked so weak

✰ Coming up with a plan Nanami knew the best option was to destroy this curse before he can rescue you

✰ The curse was weak a one but it was arrogant, spewing out threats and taunts at Nanami

✰ Weak Ass Curse: You come to save this weak Meatbag??? You will be worse off than them when I’m done with yo-

✰ Before you knew Nanami had diced the Curse like Cube Cheese, while running towards you

✰ He assessed your wounds before carefully putting his Jacket behind your head, He told Gojo to call for help while he tended to your wounds with loving hands

✰ When the Ambulance came Nanami watched over you as they prepared you for transit, He followed the ambulance to hospital and when you were finally booked in he stayed beside you in your room; Falling asleep only when you Held his hand

✰ Nanami Vows to you that he will protect you and keep you safe from harm, He Helps you through your healing process physically and Mentally

✰ Nanami was the one to suggest you move away from y’all old place and into a new one where bad memories don’t linger, Where he can build home full of love, support and protection for you

Gojo Satoru

✰ Satoru always ignored that small feeling in the back of his head that said he was putting you in danger by loving you, He wasn’t being ignorant or arrogant but Naive He thought he did a great job of keeping you safe but he hardly paid attention to the target that was painted on your back for loving him

✰ But today he felt like such a failure as he listened to the news of your abduction, Of how your coworkers said they saw you snatched by a Monstrosity

✰ His head in his hands as he held back tears that was on the verge of spilling,Satoru couldn’t even fathom what had happened to you

✰ He was able to pull himself together Thanks to the careful words of Nanami who explained you could still be alive and that the curse couldn’t have gotten that far; Nanami even had a plan on how they would search for you

✰ With Each word Nanami Spoke Satoru became more optimistic that he would find you quickly and that the wretched being wouldn’t have harmed you, He pushed his sadness deep inside and dedicated his energy to finding You

✰ He knew his best option is to let Nanami be the head of your rescue party, he knows Nanami wouldn’t lead him wrong

✰ With the help of his students and Nanami, He was quickly able to find you before nightfall

✰ There you were lying in the middle of woods.. Alone, Satoru was so happy to see you but he knew better than to let his guard down

✰ Leaving everyone behind, He slowly approached you

✰ Walking to you Satoru smiled as he bent down to touch your face, his senses stayed high as he enjoyed the way your skin felt to his fingertips

✰ He sensed the curse creeping behind him way before it spoke his name but Satoru still kept his hand lovingly on you

✰ The slithering curse: The most powerful Sorcerer walked right into my trap!! You know you really aren’t that bright, hopefully you can fight better than you can think or else I would be disappoin-

✰ The curse dropped dead before you as Satoru gently picked you up, heading you tight to his body as he smiled down at you

✰ He kissed your head as the waves of relief hit him; happy to finally have you back in his arms again he let his tears free.

✰ As you get checked by the emergency personal for Wounds, Satoru kept his hand wrapped in yours

✰ When you to were finally alone Satoru kissed your lips before saying these words

✰ Satoru: I personally feel like I Failed you and I understand if you feel the same way too, I promise you till the end of my days I will never let anything like this happen to you again.

Geto Suguru

✰ Suguru and you were spending your day at the fair together, you knew he only came there for you

✰ Being around all these people wasn’t his “scene” but he didn’t show any disdain in fact he was in a very good mood

✰ This one of those day you didn’t want to end because everything was going too good

✰ You both were Glued to each other sides, Holding hands and riding all the rides together

✰ Only getting Separated when you went to the restroom as he waited in line to get you that candy apple you kept talking about

✰ As he waited in line Suguru was becoming increasingly worried and agitated at how long you had been missing from his side, He couldn’t shake the feeling something had gone terribly wrong

✰ He texted you to make sure you was alright but you didn’t answer him back and this made him sick to his stomach

✰ Right when he was leaving the Line to go look for you He Heard the panic screams of several people, He could feel cursed energy also. His Body automatically followed the source of the energy

✰ He walked right into the scene where several people were fleeing from. He saw several bodies on the ground but this didn’t disturb him, What shocked him to his core was seeing your bag in a pool of blood

✰ Here the cursed energy was the strongest and he pieced together what happened; this pathetic bitch of a curse attacked you while taking out all the others around you in the process and the curse snatched you up the moment it saw the opportunity

✰ Suguru picked your bag up and quickly followed the cursed energy, The last thing he need is another sorcerer try to play hero end up getting you killed because of their recklessness

✰ The Energy was stronger in the east so that's where he will head and begin his hunt for you

✰ Suguru traveled for ten miles before being overcome with the cursed energy, He pulled up to a old factory and he just knew this is where the curse that targeted you was hiding

✰ Walking in Suguru was cold and calm, He knew this curse was weak and that he could easily overpower this pathetic parasite

✰ The curse smiled when it saw him before letting out the most sickening laugh you ever heard before it spoke

✰ The Cackling Curse: Geto Suguru In the flesh! Came here for his weak non sorcerer pet. Why a mighty man like you would even bother with this trash when he could easily replace it a thousand times over is something I would never understand!

✰ You swear you have never seen such rage before in someone eyes as you have just seen in Suguru’s

✰ In a flash Suguru had his hand around the neck of the cackling curse neck holding it up while snarling these words to it

✰ Suguru: You really made sure I would enjoy destroying you huh? Thought your words held truth? The person you just called “It” is the reason you will die a horrible death, They’re irreplaceable.

✰ Suguru used his Maximum Uzumaki on the curse, A overkill? Yes but he was furious

✰ Suguru walked to you, he apologized for you having to see so much carnage as he carefully pick you

✰ You weren’t injured physically but traumatised mentally, you were happy just to be back in the safety of the arms of the man who love you

✰ Suguru became more protective of you, Keeping one of his curses to guard over you at all times because he will sooner be damned than have you in harms way again

Fushiguro Toji

✰ Toji knew he put you in Danger, He’s a dangerous man who made plenty of enemies; That’s why he’s so protective of you and careful of his surroundings

✰ Toji has taken special care to teach how to hold your own in a fight against Non sorcerers and if the need arise how to defend yourself against a sorcerer so you can retreat

✰ Toji is always worried for you when he leaves for his missions, asking you to text him and reminding you where the weapons are hidden

✰ He had been gone for three days when all contact with you had stopped. This unnerved him so much that he decided to head home and check on you, The job can wait

✰ Walking into your home Toji noticed the Metallic smell of blood strongly lingering, the second thing he noticed was the broken furniture and your cell phone lying broken on the floor amongst the blood but what got to him was the fact he could sense who your assailant was… A Sorcerer

✰ Toji was pissed. He could tell you fought your ass off trying to escape your assailant and that they purposely weakened you to take you from your home; your blood was mixed with theirs…. You gave them hell

✰ Toji knew time wasn’t on his side and that he had to come up with a solid strategy that insured you staying alive

✰ Your attacker was messy and left a trail everywhere they went, unfortunately for them they attacked the lover of a dedicated killer who can hunt them down easily and if that fails Toji has his connections

✰ With his heightened senses Toji was able to track you perfectly, He found The dilapidated warehouse where you were being held against your will in record time

✰ Toji walked in knowing damn well he wasn’t going to leave without you in his arms and your attacker blood on his hands

✰ First thing his eyes fell to was you tied up on the floor, his blood boiled.

✰ The sorcerer who attacked you walked out of the darkness they were lurking smiling like they won the lottery before saying these words

✰ The Grinning Bitch: Fushiguro Toji, The sorcerer killer. A man who haunts those who are better than him for sport, I knew you were going to rush in here for your toy but you won’t be leaving here with them… in fact you won’t be leaving at all.

✰ The Sorcerer quickly rush towards Toji trying to catch him off guard but Toji was quicker

✰ Toji was able to land several stabs to the sorcerer cause them to fall as he used his glock to finish them

✰ Toji before landing the the killing shot: Not grinning anymore, are you?

✰ Toji rush to your side, cutting you free and tending to your wounds

✰ His touches was delicate against your sore skin, he told you how proud he was of ✰ you as he carried you to his car and took you to the hospital

✰ There Toji remained by your side, he swore to himself to never let anything like this happen to you again as he watched over you resting.

Ryomen Sukuna

✰ Hell Has No Fury than Sukuna scorned

✰ Sukuna never thought a weak piece of shit curse would ignore his scent, Invade his home and take his pet from him but here he stands inside your shared home where you are nowhere in sight but the disgusting scent of a lesser curse lingers….He’s trembling with rage.

✰ Sukuna could smell your blood and this made his blood boil over. If it wasn’t for the fact that he possessed Yuuji Body, the amount of rage that was being pushed through Yuuji's heart would’ve killed him.

✰ The scent of your blood and The curse Energy Dissipated as soon as Sukuna stepped outside, They were masking your scent with their curse technique

✰ Sukuna didn’t hesitate to find other curses in the area and bash in their skulls while questioning them about your whereabouts

✰ So many curses died that night in the name of love for you, Sukuna would sooner paint the world with their blood than go a night without you

✰ The search for you was long and strenuous, So many curses willing to hold secrets and pretend they didn’t know shit; Lies told to the King of curses equal long painful deaths

✰ But Sukuna's raining down pain upon the land didn’t go in Vain. He found a curse who resolve was weak, One that told him everything while whimpering in fear While in the presence of the king

✰ Sukuna paid the curse back by ending its existence quickly, After all The curse knew where you was at and didn’t come to your rescue

✰ Sukuna quickly hunted out the location of where you were being held, Rushing deeper into the woods with the fierceness of the infernos of hell

✰ He soon found the makeshift camp of the pitiful curse that was holding you captive

✰ The curse didn’t have the opportunity to explain itself for Sukuna had grabbed it by its head, slowly squeezing its skull while seething out these words

✰ Sukuna: You really thought you were Achieving something? Making me Hunt for what is Mine?? If it wasn’t for them you would suffer much more…. Painfully.. but I will spare my pet the view of all that.

✰ You closed your eyes and Heard a loud crack. When you opened your eyes Sukuna was before you his Scarlet orbs searching for you wounds

✰ He was ever so gentle with you taking care not to hurt you when he lift you up

You passed out the moment you were safely in his arms the last thing you seen was Sukuna face

✰ You woke up in the hospital with Yuuji holding your hand while sleeping , When his eyes opened Sukuna automatically took over Yuuji

✰ His long fingernails gently drawing small circles into your skin while He stared into you eyes

✰ Sukuna: No Harm will ever come to you again, I swear on everything I am. A King has to protect his heart.

Hotties on the Taglist ❤️‍🔥 @aaphroditeeeee @ren-simp

©All right Reserved To Marilyn Jean Zakiyyah, Please don’t copy or repost my writing.

Likes, Comments, Reblogs and Asks is Appreciated & Loved❤️‍🔥 Please don’t steal my Shit

[unhinged-summer-fun]

foreplay (long time)

Written for Danktober 2022 Day 9: Praise Kink, Nest, International Beer & Pizza Day

Alpha!Marcus Moreno x Omega!F!Reader (22+ only)

Summary: (Omegaverse) When you think about it, this had been a very long time coming.

Warnings: Heat/mating cycles consistent with omegaverse or Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, horny af, depictions of grief and sadness

Word Count: 7,153

[full danktober list here]

There's a lot to be said about the new leadership at Heroics headquarters. While the roll-out was still technically happening, and would be happening until Missy Moreno turned 21, you were helping with the transition of power and leadership training for the Junior Heroics around site. As such, you had the pleasure of working fairly close to Marcus Moreno himself.

The perks started with simply knowing Marcus Moreno. He was very different in person than he was in all of the interviews and press conferences you'd seen, way more awkward and goofy than the PSAs made him out to be. He made you feel taken care of, listened to and appreciated no matter your status.

Some days, though, you could see that persona of Leader of the Heroics, Marcus Moreno, shining through. When some extreme threat needed his involvement, his jaw would set, the glasses would get put away, and a pair of shining silver swords would come flying through the air into his hands.

His break from the field had ultimately ended when Missy had stated her intent to be involved in leadership, and not just in a way to appease the Ogimans. In her own words, she stated that there are superheroes walking around every day, and only very few of them end up having special powers after helping out. The one thing they all shared, and that she shared with them, was that they wanted to help where they could, too. And where she couldn't, she wanted to show the powered-heroes how to practice that everywhere, not just on TV.

There hadn't been a dry eye in that press room, Marcus included.

But now that Missy had turned 16 and was starting to take on more responsibilities as she asked for them, Marcus' pool of daily tasks was dwindling down to very few in number. A full retirement was on the horizon, expected to arrive well before Missy turned 21. He'd turned his focus to the inner workings of the Heroics, the culture and community structure of and for heroes. In less-than-polite circles, you'd heard they call him HR-cus Moreno.

But you really appreciated it, especially his new initiatives in preventing workplace harassment. Luckily the kids tended to handle themselves, and rarely needed intervention, but the adults were downright terrible, sometimes.

Being an omega, your status in the HR files was listed publicly as Undisclosed, but someone had seen a bottle of your suppressants roll out of your purse one day and the jig was up. It wasn't like you hadn't gone through the same teasing in high school and college, but you were pissed that you'd managed to make it two years at Heroics Headquarters without anyone but your direct superiors knowing. Now, eight years on, you were still met with little bits of teasing and jokes about your status.

Of course, that meant Marcus knew. He knew before, as your boss when he was training you in rewriting the leadership manual and policies, but you definitely knew he heard it through the gossip mill, because there was a sharp drop-off in the jokes about a month after the incident.

He had no issues with your designation, because he was a good man and a good alpha. Your leave requests covering predicted heat cycles were typically approved within fifteen seconds of submission, and every off-site doctor's appointment followed in the same manner. There were times you could tell he wanted to ask you questions about yourself, but omegas sharing their experiences tended to be quite taboo in a work setting.

Once, though, on a day trip up to Washington, Marcus had let himself ask if you wanted to seek a mate. You were surprised by the question, but relieved that he finally said something instead of just watching you all the time. You liked the attention, but you also liked his voice. You'd told him the truth, the legal benefits are nice, but pretty much everyone I thought was the one did their best to prove that they weren't, after a while.

You had intentionally avoided looking at the soft, faded scar on his neck from his late ex-wife. Their split had come just before her death, and it was no wonder Marcus wanted to take Missy and run for the suburban hills, just to avoid the constant reminder of a broken bond.

You didn't like to look at it, because it reminded you of hearing his wretched sobs coming from inside the office after the funeral. Those cries kept you up at night for weeks, and still haunted you when you looked at the spot that once meant her fading back into just him.

He asked you things here and there, checking in with you in a way you were sure he didn't even realize. After losing his mate, the only one he had left to protect was Missy, and when she proved herself to be more than capable of doing that herself, that left him with idle hands. But you were there. You weren't in his pack, and you certainly weren't in the running for a potential mate to him, but you were there for him to protect. It was difficult not to be completely flustered by the thought.

"Friday brainfog?" a friendly voice came from near your desk. Marcus stood in his usual plainclothes, hands in his pockets and charming as ever. You smiled up at him, shaking your thoughts from the past.

"I suppose. It's been a long week."

"You have any weekend plans?"

You started to shake your head, but realized that oh. "One of my neighbors set me up on a blind date in a few days."

Marcus was always very in-control of his abilities both as a superhero and an alpha, but sometimes, when he was surprised enough, you could sense his emotions and opinion just from being nearby, even with all the suppressants. When you told him you were going on a date with someone, the sour tang of jealous alpha fell on your tongue, the taste of stale beer and lemon rind. Beneath that, a cough-medicine-flavored despair filled your nose.

You swore up and down that this was just normal for you, an omega thing, not a superpowers thing, but Marcus always met you with a saccharine smile like he knew something you didn't.

But now, you knew something he didn't: Marcus didn't want you to go on a date.

The emotions reeled themselves back in just as fast as you'd sensed them, and Marcus showed none of what he felt on his face. You wondered how to respond: to what you knew, or to what he wanted you to know?

"That sounds dangerous in this day and age. Could be anyone waiting for you." He sounded a little less personable than he usually was with you, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed down what you're sure is what he'd wanted to say about your date.

"I'm debating not going," you said, almost breathlessly. Was it true? Yes. You already had your mind on another partner for a very long time, and preferred hopeless pining over him to trying to catch up a stranger with where they'll never be able to surpass Marcus. "I told her I…"

You realized you had a few people in an audience around you, just straight-up eavesdropping on your conversation. This tended to happen more and more recently, whispers around corners where you'd hear your name or Marcus' in the same sentence. The urge to know was tempting, but for the sake of your sanity, you never pursued it.

"I had an agenda I wanted to ask you about in my office, do you have a minute or is there somewhere you need to be?" he asked, catching your drift all without letting on that he knew about the onlookers, too. You simply nodded and followed him away from your desk. When the heavy soundproofed doors shut behind you, you let out a sigh.

Marcus' office was something of a haven for you to be in. He'd been in the same room for more than two decades, since he took over from his mother. Her office was still kept functional, but nobody had filled the space out of respect for her. You suspected Marcus' office would be left the same way, when he retired.

It was full of dark brown leather furniture and well-crafted sensors displaying news bulletins and status reports from various agencies. He loved to tinker with them, tried to get them to work almost-analog in a digital world. His computer hardly saw any use, and you giggled to yourself often over his hunt-and-peck typing technique.

What's more, it smelled so much like him you nearly swooned the first time he'd brought you in here. "Want a drink?" he asked, surprising you.

"At work?" you said, incredulous.

He shrugged. "Missy's out of town for a soccer tournament from today until next Friday. Did you know she's her team manager?"

"That's amazing," you said. He's only told you this three times a day since she got the position. His care and affection for her made your heart feel all gooey and soft. Oh no, a week? "I'm sure she'll miss you, Marcus."

"Oh, I know, doesn't make the missing any easier," he sighed. "Anyway. I'm having a drink. Why don't you want to go on a date?"

You startled. He'd gone from reacting so moody and downtrodden to some kind of bloodhound in a heartbeat. "I think I'll take that drink, actually," you laughed. "And I dunno. It was just something I'd said to her once after—" Oh god, the truth is so inappropriate. "After my usual cycle partner got married two months ago."

There's some clatter of glass from where Marcus was making drinks, but nothing that sounded like it broke, so you didn't worry about it. Still, he took his time digesting your answer. "I'm sorry, that sounds difficult," he calls back. "Were you with them long?"

"Yeah, we met each other in college and stuck together. Movement in numbers is safer for omega women."

Another clatter.

"Oh."

Now you were worried. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just—" he laughed, a little too high pitched to be anything but hysterical. "For some reason, I thought this was a romantic partner you had, someone like, with. You just flipped my expectations around is all."

You didn't understand where this was coming from. You'd never talked to him about a romantic partner, and whenever he asked about your social life, you would tell him about the shenanigans your dying potted plants were getting up to. "Is the date to find a partner for your next cycle? May I ask?"

He sounded nervous, holding two crystal glasses of whiskey in his hands. His eyebrows were pulled close, like he'd realized he was talking around the foot he'd shoved in his mouth. It was adorable. He waited for your reaction quietly.

"It was, yeah." You felt a little confident, answering the questions that part of you had been screaming for someone to be interested in asking. "It feels like too much work to build up trust so quickly, in…" you checked the date on the clock. "Less than a week." You'd be going into pre-heat anytime now, and you were at least a little glad to have the weekend to do things before the heat left you useless in your apartment.

"So you'll go through it alone?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm but failing. He sounded horrified that you'd even consider going it alone. "Isn't that dangerous for unmated omegas?"

You shrugged. "Not really dangerous, but it's not my first rodeo." Your parents had both been betas, and had no idea how to handle your designation appearing when it did. As such, most of your support on that end had come from colorful, embarrassing pamphlets and a rather traumatizing mandatory video to watch in high school. "It's uncomfortable but I've got suppressants to help with the worst of it."

He still looked rather anxious at the prospect of you being by yourself for your heat. You supposed it was his alpha instincts coming out, and your gut reaction to soothe him was your own instincts responding. You sipped the whiskey to let the burn across your tongue ground you. "Do you—?" You cut yourself off, realizing you felt maybe a bit too comfortable with him, too familiar with asking questions about biology and cycles.

"Ask," he said, eyes pleading. Could it be that he felt that same loneliness you did? Reaching out to someone just to talk?

"Do you still have cycles?" you asked. "I heard the science is pretty unclear about what happens to you when there's interference in a mating bond." You kept your eyes on his. You didn't look at the mark.

But Marcus seemed to be rather unbothered by the mention of his previous mate. "For the first two years, I was in a near-constant depressive state. Part of it was general grief, mourning, feelings of failure as a husband and a partner, but part of it was a biological depression from losing my mate. After I started seeing a therapist, things started getting… I'm not sure, clearer for me. It was a lot of things that led to that, though.

"I focused on being a good and available father to Missy, providing for her, giving her the life I thought she needed. Obviously, she knew what she needed all along," he laughed. "But after we moved out of the other house, somewhere new where it didn't smell like grief all the time, didn't smell like a failed marriage. Only I could smell that, thank god, but it was… it was almost like living a haunted house, inside a haunted house. I was haunted, my house was haunted, and there was nothing there left for us. After we moved out, therapy started working better, cycles came back, things got easier.

"Though, I haven't said this to anyone, they've been a little off recently since Missy took over. It's definitely not a pack-challenge thing, I was worried about that at first, but it's more of… I'm not sure."

"Everything feels off because she's getting closer to having a pack of her own?" you suggested. He blinked in surprise.

"Yes. I see the beginnings of it in her friends, in the Junior Heroics. They look up to her, love her, they want to help her. I'm, I couldn't be more proud of her, but I just wonder where I fit into her life, going forward." He averted his gaze to the glass in his hand, melancholy.

Impulsiveness pulled your hand to his knee. "You're always going to be her dad. She'll always need you to do that. But didn't you start to need your mom for different things as you got older, too?"

He looked slowly from your hand to your face, and you almost pulled it back, if it weren't for the warm smile he gave you. "Never thought of it that way," he admitted sheepishly. "Suppose I still hear the echoes of where I went wrong with Marissa, when I feel Missy pulling away."

It was a bomb of a confession to make, and you squeezed his knee as hard as you could in support. "I'm glad you're happy now, Marcus. And you know how to protect yourself from ghosts when you need to." You gave him an encouraging smile.

“How the hell have we not talked like this the whole time? It feels like I’ve known you for years—"

“You have known me for years.”

“I felt that even when I met you.”

It was an admission you weren’t expecting. But just from knowing Marcus, it’s something he’s wanted to say to you for a long time. Your heart raced in your chest, hope taking wing.

“I’m very glad I know you, Marcus Moreno,” you said, words failing just as you were given the chance to tell him how much he meant to you.

He looked like he wanted to say more, then something like sadness crossed his expression, and he looked away. “Do you ever wish things were different?”

You frowned, confused. “Not always.”

He shook his head. “Don’t mind me, I’m talking out my ass, it’s stupid.”

You wanted to press him for more, but then it turned out he actually did have questions about an agenda for a meeting with the city council next month, and you only could think of one thing you wished to be different. You wanted to know what Marcus wanted.

Cancelling the date was easy enough. You weren’t feeling too good coming back from work that day, and it was easy enough for your neighbor to buy the excuse you were going to make anyway. You were running a slight fever, and couldn’t focus on anything, from dinner to choosing a show to wind down with.

You got a text from Marcus at around 8pm.

MM: Would you happen to be available right now?

Another text came in a second later.

MM: I got home and immediately left, it felt too empty.

You could commiserate. Before your thumb could even tap out a reply, two others came in.

MM: I’m a few blocks from your apartment, and I ordered way too much pizza even for me.

MM: If this is too forward, please tell me. But I want to get to know you better if you’ll let me.

Your heart did flips in tandem with your stomach, butterflies lovestruck against a windshield. That could have been the fever, though.

Me: Where’s the party?

MM: Seven Hands.

You knew the place. You never really went unless you knew it was on someone else’s dime, but with Marcus’ salary, it should have been expected that he’d like Seven Hands. You looked down at yourself, grimacing when you saw you hadn’t changed out of your work clothes. In fact, you were sitting in a gigantic pile of what looked like all the blankets and sweaters in your house. You didn’t remember doing this much laundry. Feeling bold, you tapped out a reply.

Me: I’ll be there in 10. Don’t eat it all without me. ;)

You could worry about the laundry later.

Seven Hands was predictably popular when you arrived, what with it being a Friday night in the summer. Marcus had sure picked a place to be lonely tonight. You were wearing a comfy tee shirt that you hoped wasn’t too dressed down for the others. But mostly for Marcus. Would he like what you were wearing? You’d seen him wear anything from tactical gear to tank tops, but he had only ever seen you in business clothes, like all the other civilian agents at Heroics HQ.

Marcus texted you the moment you walked in, looking a little lost and avoiding the gaze of the people standing at the hosts podium.

MM: Ask for Wayne Watkins.

You approached and stammered out the name to a hostess, whose eyes lit up with excitement and immediately started walking away. Following, you didn’t notice the turning heads as you walked by, some kind of curiosity piquing their interests.

Marcus slid out from a booth situated around a corner from the main dining room, effectively out of sight from anyone that could recognize him. He wore some dark wash blue jeans and a pristine white tee-shirt that probably cost more than the ones you could get in a pack of five. As expected, he wore his usual watch communicator, but on his other hand, you saw a woven leather cord that stuck out in your mind. But you had little time to ruminate on it before he was sweeping you into a hug.

Fuck, Alpha, you smell so good.

You vaguely registered the thought that flew by, and focused on keeping your chill about recognizing him as Alpha.

It wasn’t that you were against the idea of having a mate. You’d daydreamed here and there, but it had all been formless, colorless imagination until a few years ago.

Marcus had used his Voice in the middle of an attack on HQ a couple months before the Ogima takeover. He was still well and truly out of the field, and with all the front-facing Heroics off on a high-profile mission, a group of villains had broken in through the training rooms. The incident ended by Marcus tapping into the intercom for the whole building and ordering the intruders to stand down.

He had pulled you into his office the moment the first alarm had gone up, his hand hot around your wrist as he nearly slammed his fist into the all-comm button. The way your body shook down to the smallest atom at the sound of his voice had been forever engrained in your memory.

Of course, Marcus had gone to extreme lengths to apologize to all civilians on site that had been affected by his Voice. You’d been the first, and he never really stopped apologizing to you after you assured him that you were fine.

Since then, your daydreams of happily ever after had featured him prominently in the lead role.

So maybe you weren’t giving away too much, just more of the same as it had ever been, repressed pining and all. However, when you pulled back from the sudden embrace, he had a slight tilt to his head, and a questioning curve to his lips. You broke away before you focused too hard on his mouth, sliding into the booth.

It was cozy, and like everything else in the place, well made. The promised “too much” pizza sat in the place of honor at the center of table, looking like it had been freshly made moments ago. Marcus must have waited until he knew you were coming.

He sat near you, nearer than he would normally allow in the office, but near enough that you could smell the cologne he wore in his off time. Occasionally you’d smell the ghost of it here and there in his office, but always several weeks old by that point. It was a deep musk scent, some bright citrus and herb that evoked the countryside, if you were speeding through it in a Maserati.

He just smelled really good to you, is all. No biggie.

“So, the empty nest hitting you harder than you thought?” You asked, sharing a sympathetic smile when he sighed and hung his head a bit. For some reason the nest comment made Marcus look at you blankly, like he was waiting for a punchline. Panic continued your little speech. “We don’t have to talk about it, if you’re just looking for a time-waster.”

“Spending time with you is never a waste,” he says loftily, pulling you a slice and setting it on the plate before you.

Alpha is feeding me.

Oh, shut up, hindbrain.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

The waitress came back around and asked if you wanted anything to drink. Marcus waited on you, letting you set the boundary.

“Can’t have pizza without beer,” you said. “Marcus?”

He nodded and ordered what he thought looked best off the drink menu. When you were alone again, he asked, “Are you feeling okay?”

You blinked. “Yeah, just a little tired. Might have a fever but it’s fine. Oh god, should I have come out? Am I sick? Will I get you sick?” You panicked until Marcus set a heavy, grounding hand on your shoulder, thumb tracing the collar of your shirt.

“It’s okay, you won’t get me sick,” he assured you. Of course. Heroics have the best medical care in the world. They perform miracles, even on someone named Miracle Guy. “When did you start to not feel good? Was it at work?”

You shook your head, trying to think. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “Just kinda happened.”

“Maybe that’s a sign you should eat. Feed a cold, or so I’m told.”

“Feed a cold, starve a fever, smother a heat, burn a rut.” The old adage came out faster than you could think to stay quiet. Your face flushed hotly and you saw the tips of Marcus’ ears go pink.

The pizza was both of your main focus for a while after that, each of you thinking very hard about not thinking of the other during a cycle. The beers arrived none too soon as well, a good start to forgetting how awkward you made things.

Before you could try to make amends for that, your mouth once again got the better of you. “Do you think you’ll ever take another mate?”

Marcus sucked in a breath and looked over at you. He had his hands curled slightly into fists, skin stretched white over his knuckles. The first thought you had was that you may have offended him. The second was that he would never tell you if you had. The third was, what’s that look in his eyes mean?

His eyes were normally very dark, but sometimes you caught the sun in them, and could see the depth to them. Now, though, in the slightly dim and intimate atmosphere of the restaurant, the ever-shrinking space between your knees and his, and some half-baked heartfelt confessions shared across what you considered to be the most romantic food of all time, he looked different than you’d ever seen him be.

He was breathing through his mouth, lips slightly open and revealing just a hint of his teeth. His eyes were black in a way you thought only existed in books, stories of alpha desire and the forms it could take. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and he’d spend eternity devouring you bite by bite. “I’ve considered it,” he said, his voice rasping over something hot and dark, like coals or the aftermath of a wildfire.

“Yeah?” You couldn’t help the way your voice pitched up higher in the presence of this new Marcus. Even to your own ears you sounded needy and weak.

“Yeah.”

“W-would you spend a cycle with them first before doing um. Mate things? Or are you a wait til marriage kinda guy?”

He barked out a surprised laugh, blinking a few times until his eyes went back to normal. “Definitely not a wait til marriage guy. I like sex. Like, I really really like sex. Call it letting my alpha drive, but I don’t like being alone for my rut. I wouldn’t want my mate being alone for her heat either.”

The specificity with which he chose his words had your mouth going dry and your thighs pressing tightly together. There was no mistaking his meaning.

“I understand that’s a lot of trust to ask for. I’d never take that which isn’t granted enthusiastically.”

“I know,” you breathed.

“Eat some more pizza,” he said, gesturing to your plate. You obeyed, though you didn’t feel particularly compelled to do so. After finishing another slice while he just watched you, he looked you in the eye and said, “Good girl.”

It was like all the air in the room had been sucked out, though the fire erupting through your veins roared vivaciously. You knew this feeling. But that was impossible, you didn’t… that’s next week, right?

“Marcus,” you whimpered. “I think my heat started.”

“I think the same thing. Could smell it on you when you walked in.”

You started to whine anxiously at being out in public, away from your nest, from the comforts of home. You hadn’t prepared, hadn’t gathered what you needed to go it alone.

“I’ve gotta get back,” you said weakly. Marcus nodded.

“We can leave through a back entrance. It’s where I parked. Do you feel comfortable with me driving you home?”

He was very aware of his position, his authority. His alpha instincts and abilities weren’t caused by one, neither did they effect the other. He was simply a very powerful man, inside and out. His mother had been extremely serious about controlling himself and his alpha side growing up, and how a ‘yes’ doesn’t always mean a ‘yes’ when there’s something going on under the hood. Though Missy had presented as a beta, he’d taught her much the same, about the way she should be treated by her partners and how she should treat them in return. The last thing he wanted was to make you even more afraid and confused in this moment.

“I trust you,” you said, shaking. “I’m just. I can’t. I’m not ready, back at home.”

He nodded seriously. “I can take care of that for you, if you want.”

You whined when you looked at the pizza, still a bunch left. You didn’t want to waste anything, especially when it was a gift from Marcus.

“I’ll get it to go. For now, let’s get you to my car and out of here. Are you ready?”

He moved you like a Secret Service agent moved the President, at a fast pace with most of his body covering you up. You don’t remember the few minutes you had to wait in Marcus’ car, because the second his scent hit your nose you were blissed the fuck out.

Only when the car started moving did you register the warmth in your lap. The largest pizza box you’d ever seen sat across your thighs, warm but not burning hot. It was a short drive, but you were grateful for Marcus’ help.

“1417,” you mumbled when you reached the lobby of your apartment. Time blipped forward little by little until you found yourself standing in front of your nest. How could you not have seen it coming? The fever, the intense pining, the looks and concern and nestmaking. The thought made you pout a little, but then a big hand rested itself on the small of your back to urge you toward the nest.

“C’mon, omega. Time to nest up.”

Fuck. Fuck. That sounds so good.

You stumbled toward the haphazard nest, mostly falling inside it while Marcus did whatever in the background. It didn't matter that he was an alpha you'd never invited into your house, it didn't matter because he was your Alpha.

"Oh, good girl," your alpha said, making your head snap up to look at him. He was holding a bundle of blankets and pillows you must have missed in your unconscious gathering earlier that evening. You let out a whine at the praise, instinctively baring your neck to him before ducking your head in embarrassment. "No, no, baby…" Marcus fell to his knees outside your nest, hovering as close as he dared. "What's wrong?"

"I feel so stupid right now. Making a fool of myself in front of you."

His hand came to rest on your head, urging you to look up at him. You realized you were shaking against his more steady, solid touch. "You're not a fool. And you're not stupid. This happens to everyone, all the time, baby girl. You've done nothing wrong, you're doing so good for me."

"You've gotta stop saying that…" you whined, pressing your face into his hand. God, his scent is so strong right now���

"Why?" he chuckled.

"Because I like it too much, I might actually do something stupid like ask you to stay."

He sucked in a breath, and the sharp scent of hurt-rejection-sadness flooded the air around him for a moment, heavy rain and ozone, stale air. It lessened when he gathered his control in a fist once more. "You don't want me to stay?"

"I do," you insisted, looking up at him. "I… Shit, this is the worst way imaginable to tell you how much I like you, how much I want you. That's not the heat talking, that's… the heat is making it easier to say. But I've liked you for years and years, Marcus."

A broken sound leaves his mouth, the hurt and rejection dissipating. The heavy sadness remained, though, and he explained, "I'm your boss, though…"

"You know I know you know the workplace cycle policy from memory," you said dryly. "This wasn't initiated on workplace grounds. This is my turf, I'd be the one culpable if anything came of it."

He furrowed his brow, trying to sort that out in his head. "That would have to be filed through HR…"

"Which can be done after the fact for the safety and comfort of all involved."

He quirked a smile at you. "And your usual cycle leave is flexible and at-will."

"And cycle assistance leave for your position is also approved by one Marcus Moreno."

He sat back on his heels. "Has it been that easy this whole time?" he asked to himself.

"It's not often that we can see when we're standing in our own way." A cramp hit you then, forcing a groan out of your mouth as you tried to take deep breaths until it passed. Marcus continued to stroke his hand over your hair, anywhere that helped. It came to rest on the back of your neck, and an immediate calm blanketed you when it did.

"There you go. That better?" he asked softly.

You nodded weakly. "Wh'r you doin'?" you mumbled against an old shirt, mortified to see that you were drooling all over it.

"Nobody's scruffed you before?"

Your anxiety rose at the prospect of revealing the part of yourself you hadn't yet explored. But you felt safe, secure with Marcus there. "I've never been with an alpha before. Never trusted anyone but omegas to help me in my heat, and it's… I was never brave enough. You hear the stories."

"I understand," he said, masking his surprise if there was any to be had. "And you trust me to stay with you through your heat?"

"Yes," you said, almost interrupting him.

"And you want me to be your heat partner? Even though I'm an alpha?"

"I do."

He took in a shaky breath and squeezed the back of your neck a little. "Okay," he said at long last, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. It thrilled you, that little gesture. "Let's get you a little more comfortable, then. I'm going to run you a shower and get some things for you to wear, and then I'm going to go out and get some supplies, take care of everything so we don't have to worry about anything but you."

You didn't like the prospect of him leaving, but you understood it. You were woefully underprepared for a rapid-onset heat like this, and couldn't safely venture out to fix that. You would have ordered a grocery delivery or something, but probably wouldn't have thought of it until you'd eaten everything in the apartment. You nodded.

"Is there anything special I can get for you?" he asked. You couldn't just shake your head and say you were fine, not for an alpha who wanted to go above and beyond like Marcus wanted to.

"Will you make sure you get things for yourself? Toothbrush, clothes… condoms?" You hadn't even discussed that part yet with him. Were you being too forward?

"I'll make sure," he smiled, a playful glint in his eyes. "What about for you? What do you usually crave?"

"Pizza," you admitted. "And beer."

He laughed. "Well, I'll make sure you have it. That's typically what I want, too. And oddly, strawberries."

"Strawberries sound so good," you moaned, flopping to the side in your nest. The structural integrity of it failed, then, collapsing beneath you in a flatter heap than you liked. "I'm gonna rebuild this."

"I dunno, I like the squashed-sandcastle look," he teased. "Gonna start that shower for you."

You drifted along after him, leaning on the wall for support. He didn't run it too hot, knowing it would be better for you to stay conscious while showering. When he stepped back, he shook off his hands and turned to you. "There you go. I'll pick through your things for whatever looks comfiest."

"I have some heat-only clothes in a box in the closet," you said, pointing to the door. "If you don't want to open it, I can do it."

"That's alright," he shook his head. "Thank you for telling me, though. They'll be on your bed when you come out, sweetheart. I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'm taking your keys to lock the door behind me. Text me if you forget anything you need."

Before he rounded the corner, you called his name, taking a step closer. He was there in an instant, ready to help you. "Thank you," you said, softly and quietly. You really meant it. You'd been so scared back in the restaurant, panicked and frightened. He'd always been it for you, and you were so glad he wanted you back. Spending a heat alone, knowing your subconsciously-chosen Alpha had rejected you, would have been a living hell.

"Thank you," he insisted, coming closer and pressing another kiss to your forehead. He held himself there, just inches from you, for a long while. "I have to go. You smell so good, if I stay, I'll never leave."

"Come back quick," you asked, letting your anxiety show.

"I will," he vowed, and then he was gone.

You'd migrated all of your nesting materials back into the bedroom by the time he returned, laden with bags of all kinds - a black duffel you'd seen at work, several bags of groceries from a nicer store than you went to normally, a big bag from a drugstore with the long receipt trailing out the top, another pizza from Seven Hands, and a black gas station bag holding a few six-packs inside it. In addition to that, he was wearing a crewneck sweater he hadn't been wearing when he'd left.

But you didn't want to inspect the bags in his hands. The second he came in through the door, you were dancing around on your tiptoes, waiting for the opening to hug him close. You'd missed him with a desperation that had been hard to control, and he must have felt the same way, curling his body around yours and pressing his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder, holding you close. Idly, you registered the growing bulge at the front of his pants, but all you cared about was that he was here.

"You okay?" he asked against your skin. His facial hair tickled a little, but you didn't mind it. You'd dreamed about how it would feel against your skin all the time, and reality didn't disappoint whatsoever.

"Better now."

"Good. Let me put these aw—where's your nest?" he asked when he saw the clear floor before your couch.

"Back in my room. It's more comfortable there, I think my instincts were just make nest now, not let's think about this," you chuckled. "Is that okay?"

"That's perfect, sweetheart." He kissed your head again, a thrilling thing every time it happened. "Why don't you go sit on the couch? Drink this." He pulled out a water bottle and cracked the lid for you. "I'll be there in a second."

You did as you were told and watched Marcus put things in your fridge and cabinets. He must have explored before leaving, because he moved around the unfamiliar space with an ease and grace you hardly had on a daily basis. He disappeared into the bedroom for a minute, swearing under his breath at the much improved nest you'd started crafting while he was gone. "Great job on this!" he called, warming your chest and making you smile.

He returned, stripping off the crewneck without explanation. Your jaw hung slack at the sudden motion, eyes zeroing in on the glimpse of his tummy from his shirt riding up. Then, the sweater was in your lap, still body-warm and oh, this is soft.

"I only wore it while I was out, so it's not a lot, but I managed to get some rut-clothes from home that I uh. Hope you'll want to use. In the nest." He gulped a little, nervous about his offering.

"I would love to," you said, bringing the sweater up to your face and breathing in deeply. "This is perfect, thank you." You scrambled to pull it on over your head, emerging to see a grinning, puffed-chest Marcus on the other side. "Did you want to talk out here?" you asked.

He nodded. "Are you feeling a little better after the shower? I wanted you to have a clearer head when we talked about this."

"I do feel better, yeah."

"Great, that's great. So, this might make me seem like a huge nerd, but I wanted to ask about boundaries and expectations you might have…"

You talked over the next half-hour, asking and answering questions about your heat and health. Marcus offered to take the lead where you were unsure, since you'd never been with an alpha before. Some questions had your cheeks flaming hot with how dirty they felt, and by the time you'd agreed to the boundaries of the heat, you felt extremely at ease, and very turned on.

"I wanted to say, this isn't a… I don't know how to say it. I want to be everything you would want or need, because you're that to me. You already are. You make me happy, and give me purpose. It's unfair to lay all that on you and then say I'm not ready to promise you a lifetime, or a ring or a family, but this is the first real relationship I've pursued since my last marriage. I don't know if that's even something you'd want, and—"

"Marcus, I get it. I'm not asking you for any of that. I won't ask for anything you're not ready to give." You hugged the pillow in your lap, still sipping water. "I've got simple tastes and I like simple comforts. Beer and pizza, friendship, soft sweaters that smell like you." He grinned at that. "You've already given me all that without me needing to ask."

"Is there anything you do want to ask for?" he said, scooting a little closer. Your heart skipped a beat.

"The same as you'd given me before. And maybe more kissing and touching. Less clothes. I want to ask you to join me in my nest, alpha."

He reached up to take off his glasses, tossing them to the side so he could grab your face in both hands and kiss you. He pressed you down into the couch cushions, holding your body beneath his in a protective stance. All the while, he poured his feelings and emotion into you, letting go of that hold over his emotions and his scent, overwhelming you in the best possible way. You reciprocated in kind, moaning and baring your neck to him. You weren't asking for a mating bond, just showing him where to kiss you next.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he murmured over your pulse and down to the collar of his sweatshirt on you.

"Take me to bed, alpha."

"Yes, omega."

[picnicbitchsokka]

my thought process on sokka watching atla for the first time

try to guess the transition between s2 and s3

oh great, dead mom, trauma full!

he’s sexist? oh.

why he so mad

big head

his voice is cracking..….how old are you bruh.

embarrassing

who does he think he is? the main character? LEEEEAAVVVVEEEEE

show off but show off nothing. ok.

why are you still here

is he fucking flirting with all 8 kyoshi warriors at the same time in one room.

ok 1 fell for it

no more misogyny!

he definitely likes the color pink

hates jet…understandable

he 100% called jet wheat mouth right in front of his face atleast twice

oh he’s funny

wait he’s a genius

space boi

“look at the sky” and night fellow

wait…..grumpy “look at the sky” and night fellow

why is he falling to his knees and on the brink of  bursting tears in the middle of an earth bending match

wait no it can’t be

oh he kissed suki

thought i was going crazy

*silently chanting at tv while pumping fist in the air* “nerd! nerd! nerd!”

he wants to wear a dress so badly i know it

he’s a POET

did aang just fucking die

sokka’s wearing a DRESS and he LOVES it

he likes shopping…nice

he’s likes swords too? that’s awesome

are those FINGER GUNS?!???

wait no it can’t be part 2

oh he smart smart

great he represses his emotions! thought this would happen!

oh wait he sad sad

oooohhhhh he’s fuuunnnnyyy

risking your life to escape your dad out of prison….brave brave man

with ZUKO?!?!!????

yayyyy suki!!!!

oh wait they kissed

*scratches head* i coulda sworn sokka was ga-

why the FUCK are you staring at zuko like that

wait.

HE’S BISEXUAL

end and post.

[adhdtoesniffer]

Sure Ice getting hurt and Maverick feeling bad about it is good, but what if the roles were switched? What if Maverick was fatally Injured and Ice is on the verge of hysteria because Maverick doesn't remember him.

Or what if they both have a really bad fight and Ice says something hurtful and Maverick is just heartbroken so he runs off. It's raining and he's in no state to ride his motorcycle but he doesn't care, the only thought in house mind is getting away from something he once called home.

And then Maverick gets thrown off of his bike. There's someone above him in tears. There's sirens in the background and everything sounds underwater. It hurts to breathe and he feels himself slipping and the only thought going through his mind is that Ice hates him and that he's a horrible person when really it's the exact opposite.

And the next time he wakes up, it's quiet. He's not on the asphalt. He's on something soft. A bed, his mind registers. A bed with coarse sheets. The room he's in smells like the sick. He doesn't know to explain it, it just smells like death. Like blood mixed with sterile chemicals.

There's someone beside him, and he turns to find Ice. Ice who's leaned against the bed, his hand cradled in Maverick's. Closer inspection shows that he's been crying. It makes his heart hurt. Tom "Iceman" Kazansky never shows his emotion. Well, to anyone except Maverick. Even then he has trouble opening up.

His heart sinks when he remembers the argument. Maybe this is just a dream? That Maverick is still on the wet asphalt, the red and blue sirens clashing together. Maybe he's dying and this is his mind's way to make the transition easier.

"Ice..." He whispers gently, his voice scratchy. How long has he been out? The man startles awake, his blotchy red eyes alert before they settle on Maverick. And soon tears are welling up.

"Pete..." His partner speaks and the pure, raw emotion takes his breath away. Never has he seen Ice so broken. So lost. "You're awake." He continues, his chin trembling as he clutches harder at his husband's hand. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it, I was scared. Scared that you were gonna leave me so I tried to push you away so it wouldn't hurt less but then I got so caught up that I was saying things I didn't even mean. I mean, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I almost lost y-"

Maverick smiles sadly. "Nothing I haven't heard before." That seems to be the wrong thing to say because Tom looks even more shattered.

"Hey, Ice. Tom, look at me."

"I'm okay. If you want, you can make it up to me by buying me a week's worth of chocolate and sitting with me to watch Married at First Sight." He smiles when Ice crinkles his nose at the mention. Ice has never been one for reality tv, says that he can't stand their immaturity. Maverick, however, loves them. Loves the drama.

Ice is silent for a moment, his eyes tracing every inch of his face, searching for something. Something he must soon find because soon he's nodding, bringing his husband's hand up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

[obislittleone]

Who Are You Really (7)

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x Reader

A/n: this is the last chapter of WAYR, but a sequel might be on the way if people want it enough, so... send requests for it ig

Playlist

Warnings: ⚠️major no way home spoilers⚠️ blood, kissing, touching of bare skin?? Idek

Dr. Strange made a mistake in his spell, and hadn't realized it until he was too late. The spell would remove the memory of everyone in this world of the Peter Parker that resided in it... the problem was, you weren't necassarily concerned with the memory of him, but the other Peter you'd met. You promised you wouldn't forget him. Dr. Strange couldn't do anything to remove him from your subconcious, and because of that, and the contradiction began to form a chain of events. Given that no one in this world was able to remember Peter Parker, you'd been separated from the rest of the human population. You just didn't know it yet.

You had just lost him, he slipped through your fingers like sand through a wide grain sieve. For years you doubted you'd ever find someone with so much shared trauma, with so much relatability. You thought for sure that it was going to be you on your own for the rest of your miserable life... but then he just happened to drop into the alleyway you were struggling in. He didn't know you, or what you had gone through.... it was just a coincidence.

Fate had a funny way of showing you how much control it had over your life... the way it played out based soley off of a ridiculously long timeline in your universe, and every other universe for that matter.

You sunk to your knees, beginning to feel the effects of Dr. Strange's spell come over you... but then it started wearing off. You didn't forget Peter, he was still fresh in your mind. His strong hands holding you close to him as you kissed him goodbye. The way he caught you after being so terrified that he would repeat history and fail again.

You were both angry and sad with this outcome. If you'd forgotten who he was then none of this would be happening. You wouldn't be bitter about fate's awful twist of cruelty. You'd be heading home to your apartment, preparing for a day of work in a place that no longer employed you. It was all too much to bear, and as the tears ran down your red cheeks, you felt a turning sensation in your stomach, making you drop to one knee. You were breathing hard, the stab in your side becoming more prominent as you inhaled deeper. It was painful, and felt like your body and soul was being physically ripped from the earth.

You looked at your hands, seeing the golden flame like lights traveling over your skin to make it disappear from this world. You wondered if somehow you'd tampered with the timelines and now you were being erased from all reality. It felt like it.

In no time, the spread took over your entire body, covering your eyes last. You were not prepared for the transition to be so instantaneous, but it was. You were in a different place than you'd been, but you weren't dead, just transported. It reminded you of the blip, and how everything around you changed in one blink of an eye, but you came out five years later.

You hoped that this wasn't the same location five years later, because if so, that meant they tore down the statue of liberty and put up a crappy apartment building.

You were in the living room of a small complex, barely bigger than a studio if you were to guess. The TV was turned on and you panicked, realizing someone was home. You were looking for a door to get out, but all you could see were bookcases along the walls. They were all filled with partical and genetic science books....

You didn't hear the entrance of the apartment's owner, but he acted on a whim to sieze the intruder, you.

You were pulled out of your daze when you felt a weightless force holding your hand to the bookcase. You looked down and saw the familiar webbing keeping you stuck in place. You used your claws to detatch your hand, rolling your eyes at the obnoxious gesture.

You turned around, not prepared to see him standing there. His mask was off, his hair was ruffled slightly, and he still had a slight bruise on his cheek. He'd gotten that earlier, though it looked far nastier now.

"You," you stood still, not believing what was right in front of you. You didn't know if he was here, or if your imagination was playing tricks on your already tortured mind.

He took a step closer, slowly, seeing your face in the same state he'd left it in after that kiss.

"You," he repeated. He closed his eyes and shook his head, reopening them to find you still there, in his living room. "How did you-"

"I don't know."

You moved your leg forward, stepping enough to close the distance between you. You wouldn't be able to know for sure until you coild feel him.

With one hand raised, you looked deeply into his eyes and barely laid a finger on his chest. The heat rushed through your hand as soon as your palm was laid flat over his rapidly beating heart.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" He asked quietly, bringing his own hand to rest over the warmth of yours. It felt like lightning when he touched your hand.

"I hope not, because that means I am, too."

He chuckled, tilting his head as he looked over your features with great scrutiny.

"You're here... with me," he was so silenced by his shock that you could barely hear his tamed whisper.

"Where is here?"

You were sure it looked like an ordinary home in New York, but not the one you knew and resided in all your life.

"You're in my world," he said more excitedly, beginning to tear up as he came to terms with the reality of this situation.

Your eyes brightened as you heard the wonderful news. You'd made it through, you had followed him into his universe, hopefully to stay for good.

You couldn't contain your emotions, and pulled him in for another kiss, much like the one you had shared minutes ago. It was more meaningful, though, and wasn't as rushed or clumsy. It was slow, and gentle.

"Are you okay with all of this?" He pulled apart to ask, forgetting to be considerate enough to do so before he got all enthusiastic. "You don't have any way to get home do you?"

"I think this world is my home, now. I never had anything to leave behind there anyways."

As sad as the statement was, nothing could have made him happier. His smile was wide as he brought his arms around you, squeezing tightly to show his enthusiasm.

"Ow," you mumbled into his neck, realizing that you were still very much impaled.

He pulled away quickly, scared that he may have been the cause of your pain. He may have scaled it up, but he was not the initial reason you were hurt. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I just got this uh..." you trailed off, looking down at the small tear in your suit that had been spilling out blood for a while, now.

"Come with me," he was immediately concerned, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to his bedroom. You sat down on his bed, feeling the weight your legs had been carrying sink tremendously. You watched the doorway to the bathroom, patiently awaiting his return.

When he came back, he had a med kit much like your own full of supplies for emergency medical needs.

You found it kind of Ironic, the way you'd helped patch him up the same way a few days ago for the exact same injury. It was even in the same place on your bodies.

"Can I take this off?" He gestured to the top part of your suit, hesitant with the words he had used.

"We've barely kissed, but sure," you joked and nodded, undoing the hook at the top and enabling him to reach the zipper on the back. It made the mood a little easier to work with... less awkward.

Once you felt the zipper come apart on the bottom, you shrugged off the top, leaving you in a sports bra you'd had since you were fourteen. It was a little juvenile, the black and red tie dye, but you hadn't really expected to be in this outcome.

He barely even noticed it, for the look of your soft skin was so inviting to him. He focused on his task at hand, being very self aware of how he placed his hands on your body.

He knelt down, coming face to face with the punture on your side, and seeing that red was still dripping from it.

It was silent as he wiped the blood from the surrounding areas, inspecting the deepness and severity of the injury as a whole. He sighed out when he realized he was going to have to inflict extra pain on you in order to help you be healed.

"It needs a stitch or two," he looked up at you, his eyes showed how much he cared, and didn't want to harm you. He didn't even want to stitch up your wound for crying out loud.

"Don't worry bug boy, I can take it."

He cracked a smile at your relaxed nature, happy that you were so comfortable in his presence. He moved the med kit to a corner of the bed, sitting next to it while he made room for you.

"Can you lay on your other side for me?" He asked, helping you get situated right after. Then came the alcohol wipe. In your opinion, the sting of the steril cleaning liquid was far worse than the actual stitch.

You had a saying since you started your vigilante work all those years ago. 'If you can take the cut, then you can take the stitch.' It was a good reminder to be safer when you were out. Having to patch up after a long night was just adding insult to injury... literally.

"Tell me if it hurts," he said, his hands shaking for his lack of experience on another human being. He was fine doing this to himself, because he knew his pain limits, which were insanely high. He was frightened to mess up, or make your pain worse.

He started in on the first stitch, going as quickly as he could while still being careful. It went through pretty decently, and as he tied it off, he became a little more confident. One more stitch was added after that and he was done. He packed everything back up before putting a gauze pad over the top to ensure the healing process.

He didn't know what came over him, but he felt the sudden urge to show his affections after what he'd just done. He leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss in the world upon the newly applied bandage, stroking the surrounding skin with his thumb a few times after that.

He helped you sit up, holding you against his side for support. You didn't mind, you enjoyed the wamrth. He was still in his suit, handsome as ever, but his body emanated three times more heat from within the spandex that it normally did.

"Can I ask you something?" He murmered sweetly, bringing your attention back to his eyes... those sparkling bastards.

"Anything."

"Do you believe in fate?"

You smiled and nodded. Of course you did. All of this was no coincidence. It was simply a matter of a miracle, being twisted into this timeline for both your sakes.

"That's good," he paused, summoning the words he needed to explain this in a way thst won't freak you out. "You know, since I met you, I've been getting this feeling that perhaps I'm supposed to have another shot. I feel like when I caught you, it was a sign of me starting over again. I'm afraid you probably think I'm crazy, but-"

"Don't be afraid, I feel it too."

He nodded, pressing one more kiss to your lips as gentle and soft as he can be. For the first time since he lost Gwen, he felt something optimistic arise in him... call it Hope. He was hopeful about his future, sitting next to you, his arms engulfing your form to keep you close.

You felt at home for the first time, in a universe that was completely foreign to you. It was him, he brought that feeling.

"You're my second chance."

.

.

This was a short ending but I'm taking requests and ideas for a possible sequel??? I don't have a fully formed plot or anything really so send in stuff you think might be good.

Tags can be found on the masterpost!! (Tags for this series are now closed)

[hockeywhy]

4 times you didn’t find the one + 1 time you did; m. tkachuk

WARNINGS: explicit language. WORD COUNT: 11.3k

one.

Tyler is a good guy. He can be a little scatterbrained at times (like that one time he’d double-booked the evening he promised to spend with you, only to have him ring you almost an hour after the time you agreed to meet to say he was in the student bar with a group of friends to catch a football game) and other times, a little overbearing (like that one time – two time, three time, you lost count really – he expressed his annoyance towards your close friendship with Matthew for the most absurd reasons, claiming Matthew always looked at him the way someone would look at a fly they couldn’t swat away). And sure, he can be a little wishy-washy – ice cold one moment, burning hot the next – but these are moods you can keep up with and have kept up with for the past five months of your relationship. And fine, maybe he could be a little more considerate towards you because there was only so far the but babe, who knows when I’ll next get the chance to do this excuse could get him, but this is college and college is that weird transition from reckless teen years to growing responsibility into adulthood. These years will be the last hoorah before things got really real. All in all, Tyler is a good guy. Whether Matthew agreed or not. 

“He’s a fucking tool, is what he is,” Matthew repeats, not for the first time that evening and, really, since Tyler became a regular presence in your life. His eyes are glued to the TV, glaring at it as if it only finished offending him in the worst way imaginable. He has a beer in one hand while the other digs through a bowl of popcorn resting between the two of you. 

It’s just gone past nine in the evening and your original plans have apparently gone down the drain. You and Tyler were supposed to meet at his place and from there, head over to a party held by one of your friends; a bash to celebrate the end of second year of college for your year group. Fifteen minutes went by without a word from him, then half an hour until finally, after the one-hour mark passed, he’d mentioned something about being caught up with a friend who needed help moving things out from a dorm room to a rented apartment. Fine, whatever. You understood. A lot of that was happening around recently, although surely, he would have known in advance, but you guess this is where your personalities clash the most: you, as organized as possible; him, more than often on the flighty side. But hey, opposites attract and all that, right?

It’s not that it annoyed you, but it was odd sitting in your apartment dressed up and ready to go with something akin to radio silence from his end. It was good timing on Matthew’s behalf to invite you over to his place to catch a playoff game, in a way, rescuing all the effort that went into your appearance. 

When you arrived at Matthew’s apartment in your favorite pair of jeans rather than sweatpants, and a form-fitting top in place of a cozier tee, he feigned being impressed by your look. 

“Should’ve told me you wanted to make this a show up just to show off sort of thing,” he commented. “I would’ve said to meet at the arena instead.”

“Matthew, you would not have bought tickets to an Oilers game and you know it.” 

“Like I said, show up just to show off.” 

You’d laughed, patting his cheek lightly after crossing the threshold into his apartment. “Right. Just to remind everyone of what they’re missing out on, I’m guessing? They could’ve had all of this and yet they now need to wait for the next season to see real greatness.” Your demeanor changed though: your smile was softer, your next words gentler. “There’s always next season.” 

You couldn’t say no to Matthew’s invitation. It wasn’t just a way for you to try and make yourself shrug off the outcome of the evening, but you know that not making the playoffs is a source of frustration for Matthew.

So, really, it isn’t an evening wasted and this certainly doesn’t feel like a lousy replacement for a year group party. Yet one way or another, it seems that all roads circle back to you and Tyler or better said, only Tyler just as the game goes into intermission ahead of the third period; as if on cue, your phone starts buzzing occasionally. To your delight, the messages are from Tyler: short updates that they’ll wrap it up soon, and that he’s still down for the party if you are. You express that relief to Matthew, though he doesn’t hide how much it displeases him. You know Matthew has your best intentions at heart and therefore wants only the best for you as you do for him, but apparently, Tyler doesn’t fit that bill. Still, you wish he could at least respect your choice. 

“He’s not a tool,” you defend with a roll of your eyes that goes unnoticed by Matthew who keeps his eyes glued to the screen. “Things pop up unplanned and let me tell you that no form administration team is pretty to deal with if you don’t clear out your dorm when you’re supposed to. Honestly, I don’t understand why you can’t at least be civil with each other. You’re one of my best friends and he’s my boyfriend, so I kind of hoped you’d see eye-to-eye but Matthew, you weren’t nice to him from the get-go.” 

“And I’ll continue to not be nice to him.” At that, he turns his attention to you and smirks. “Does he cry about it to you? Does he complain about how unfair it is that someone calls him out for what he is? Does it destroy his ego to know that his act can’t fool everyone?” 

You huff, frustrated. Again, this. Again, Matthew is irrational in his hatred towards the guy. The two had barely crossed paths but you know you wouldn’t have them be in the same room together, unsupervised. Sure, Tyler can hold his own ground just fine, but look at it overall, Matthew is scrappy. As volatile towards him as he is while on ice when he feels wronged. Between the two of them, it’s Matthew who makes you feel as if your heart is in your mouth. On ice, it’s one thing though it doesn’t make you feel less restless while watching him play; off it, you just don’t want him to do something in the heat of the moment that he’ll later regret.

“I’m not an idiot, Matthew—”

“I didn’t say that you are.”

“Kind of sounded like it,” you sigh. “Look. Tyler isn’t perfect. I know that, you know that, he knows that. I’m pretty sure no one is. Just like you don’t like something about Tyler, one of his friends probably doesn’t like something about me. Don’t give me that look,” you warned him when he shot you a look screaming tell me who they are and where I can find them. “Can’t please everyone, Matthew. You should know.” 

“It’s different,” he responds tightly. 

“It’s really not. You don’t want to get along with—No. Not even get along, but just be civil about Tyler, fine. Whatever. But I wish you kept that to yourself. You might not like it, but I’m kind of hoping he’s the one, Matthew,” you admit. Saying it out loud sounds a bit old fashioned, but your parents met while in college, as did your grandparents and, more recently, one of your closest cousins was due to tie the knot in the summer. You can’t help but hope for that. “I want to make it work between Tyler and me. I kind of want to be in it for the long run, Matthew.” 

Matthew’s jaw tightens, eyes narrowing. “Then for your sake, I hope it comes to a point when you’re no longer the only one making an effort.” 

Your phone chimes, signaling a message that couldn’t have been better timed. A quick glance at the screen displays the message from Tyler confirming he’ll meet you at the party. You push up from the couch, feeling a range of emotions: anger because of Matthew’s attitude, frustration because of how long it took for Tyler to apparently squeeze you in what was left of his day and quickly trailing that, misery because of all of this and everything in between. 

“Thanks for being so fucking supportive, Matthew. I’ll get you a jersey to go with that attitude.” With that, you began making your way out of his apartment, ignoring his calls to come back to please don’t go. 

-

Tyler isn’t a good guy. He’s a piece of shit with half-hearted excuses and pleas more commonly used by a fifteen-year-old than an apparently grown man. 

You’d arrived a little later than anticipated at the party because of a traffic incident resulting in road closures, which you’d informed Tyler of through text, encouraging him to go ahead and get a drink before you got there if he felt like it. Despite that, you couldn’t help but wish Tyler got back to you somehow to say that it didn’t matter and that he’d wait for you first. A part of you wanted to blame your anxiety on the way Matthew spoke to you. It was easier to look for a scapegoat when you wanted to deny whatever the hell it was that your gut was trying to tell you for the past few weeks. 

Being two years ahead of you, you knew that Tyler would want to enjoy the end of his final term as much as possible, before results, before real life truly kicked in. But the way he went about it was frantic, careless: he was out often and late, sometimes with you and sometimes without. That was fine, but what bothered you was that when you were exhausted, when you simply couldn’t keep up anymore, he’d simply send you off with an alright, catch you later instead of at least seeing you out of the club and in a taxi. It was even more embarrassing when this would happen while you shared the locale with Matthew and other players from the Flames roster, many of whom you were good friends with. It was one thing making your way out alone, but it was entirely different under their eyes. As if you were doing the walk of shame. It was Matthew who’d step in, always playing it off casually saying he just needed to get a breath of fresh air and wasn’t that just such a coincidence while you were leaving the venue? It was always Matthew. 

Tonight though, he wouldn’t be there anymore to provide the support you knew you always received but did not always think of it consciously. Matthew wouldn’t be there to watch as your eyes filled with hot, angry tears as shame overwhelmed you while watching Tyler allow not one, but two girls to grind up on him. It wasn’t until he dipped his head down towards one of them, ready to whisper who gives a fuck what, that he’d caught sight of you over her shoulder. You realized it wasn’t sadness you felt as you noticed it wasn’t regret reflected on his face but rather, fear. Fear for having been caught. Still, you had to give it to him for being so shameless.

He chases you through the narrow hallway and across the busy lawn, fingers managing to catch hold of the back of your top to keep you in place. 

You hiss and slap his hand away from your clothes. “Don’t grab me like that, what the fuck, Tyler?” 

“You wouldn’t wait, what else could I do? Just—please. Please, give me a moment.” 

“Yeah? Why, busy carding through your excuse options to see which one’s the more suitable one this time?” you ask, arms crossing over your chest. “Here, I’ll save you the trouble. I’ve been drinking, I didn’t realize that wasn’t you back there or wait, did we go through that one before—”

“No! No. Look, she came onto me—”

You hold a hand up and stop him there. “Honestly, Tyler, go fuck yourself,” you recommend, spinning on your heel towards the sidewalk where your Uber pulled over. Oddly, you can hear Matthew’s voice in your mind. Hadn’t he dismissed Tyler using those very same words just a few weeks ago? 

Sure, it hurts. You won’t deny yourself that emotion or play it down, but what feels more shameful about the ordeal is that this may well have been the very thing Matthew tried to warn you about. Several times. Plenty of times. You lost count. And now here you are in the back of a taxi with tears streaming down your face and a desperate need to yell your sorrow into a pillow, feeling a lot like a dog with their tail between their legs as you pull out your phone to message Matthew. 

You I’m sorry I spoke like that to you earlier. You were right.

Only a handful of minutes pass before your phone buzzes.

Matthew For the first time, I wish that I wasn’t. I’m sorry.

two.

Mark is different. You were a bit hesitant to try a dating app initially, but a lot of your friends suggested you had little to lose other than maybe an hour or two of making conversation with a stranger over drinks. If it worked out, great; if not, it was easier to make it known to them and cut ties. He reached out first, leaving a comment on one of your photos taken recently at the Scotiabank Saddledome arena. And good thing you did. Not only did Mark prove to be handsome, but he acknowledged his own support for the Flames. As if this wasn’t sufficient, it turned out that he was at that very same game, just a few seats above your ice-level ones. He showed you his own photos taken at that game as proof on your first date. 

Did someone say match made in heaven?

Immediately, your first thought was that Matthew would like this guy. Tyler was always somewhat disinterested when it came to hockey and by extension, the Flames, so maybe this contributed to Matthew’s dislike of the guy. Aside from the obvious, which was how he treated you while in a relationship. You had to make sure that the guy you’d date next understood your friendship with the team, and especially Matthew; you also had to make sure that he didn’t misunderstand it either. On one or two occasions, Tyler had expressed distrust towards Matthew and apparently, the way he looked at you, whatever that meant. 

Mark is different. That much is obvious. Normally, you’d let some time pass before you introduce a significant other to friends just to be sure of them but keeping Mark a secret wouldn’t do him justice. 

You decide to also make a date night out of the Friday evening game. It’s just a month into the season and the Flames are holding up spectacularly in their Division and in turn, Matthew leads them in points. The good mood he has been in over the course of the past few months easily transmits to you. You have a good feeling about this.

As usual, you hang around the panels surrounding the rink as the team starts making its way on the ice for their warmups. This time, you’re not only accompanied by your best friend, but also Mark who seemed to be more than elated to know of your friendship with the team. Initially, he was somewhat distrustful, thinking you were just messing around until you scrolled through your phone’s photos, most of which were of you and the team taken in casual settings. Mostly Matthew, really. A couple of less flattering candids of Matthew while eating; a couple of flattering photos he’d taken of you during the two weeks of summer vacation you spent with him and other friends; countless selfies taken indoors, outdoors, at home or out and about. Retrospectively, it was a little embarrassing, but Mark seemed fascinated enough. 

“Hey, Mark, uh—you want to go help me get a few drinks and snacks?” your best friend, Rachel, calls out over the booming music as the team starts making rounds on the ice. 

“We can all go after. There’s plenty of time then,” you suggest instead, and start inching just a little closer to the panels. As usual, you’re wearing Matthew’s jersey while Mark sports Backlund’s. “Here, let’s go a bit closer.” 

You and Matthew have a tradition: every time the Flames play on their own turf, he throws a puck your way. You have a very impressive collection of warm up pucks towering in a corner of your living room. If this was still the early 2000s and you were a guest on Cribs, that’d be the first thing you show off without question. As usual, he spots you with ease and shoots a smirk your way, head nodding in a ‘sup? which you mirror with a grin. He stops a puck’s course from shooting past him and he begins making his approach towards you. Except, something goes wrong. You see the moment his expression morphs first into confusion and then something unreadable when you feel an arm drape across your shoulders. Matthew makes an abrupt stop right in front of where you are stood and the ice shoots across the entire plexiglass. He remains rooted to the spot for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tightened and his eyes flick between you and Mark. That seems to kick him into motion eventually: you watch, confused and a little hurt, as Matthew skates away, tradition broken. He thwacks the puck across the rink apparently as hard as he can just as the buzzer goes off and both teams are off the ice. Matthew disappears down the tunnel without even as much as a glance over his shoulder towards you. 

“I think your timing was off,” Rachel suggests as you take your seats, her voice quiet as if to prevent Mark from overhearing but there is no chance of that happening: the arena goes wild with music and cheers as the game begins. You shoot her a quizzical look. Rachel sighs. “Maybe—uh, maybe you should’ve eased Matthew into this a different way,” she clarifies and throws a cautious glance over towards Mark whose entire attention is on the game. 

“It wasn’t me,” you defend. “I didn’t think he’d do that but even so, I don’t get why Matthew was so peeved. Seems without reason to me.” 

Rachel looks at you for a few seconds and her silence shortly becomes uncomfortable. When she finally tears her gaze away, you watch as she shakes her head slowly as if in disbelief. You want to comment on it but the last thing you need is to pick a fight with your best friend. And besides, it’d be awful timing: the visiting team scores. 

They still pull through eventually, scoring first in overtime but throughout the course of the game, you couldn’t help but feel that Matthew oscillated between playing more aggressive than ever before to barely having a presence on ice. He earned himself a good six minutes total of time in the box: once for roughing and twice for instigating fights. Sure, you’re well aware of how volatile and aggressive Matthew can get during games, never letting a wrongdoing fly by him and always jumping in either for himself or his teammates, but tonight was different. Tonight, he played almost erratically. The last thing you wanted was to see him be sent off the ice for a major misconduct or worse. 

It takes you some time to locate Matthew when you make it to the bar where the team would celebrate their win. It isn’t a particularly glitzy place but something more laid back, complete with pool tables and dartboards. Places like this were some of your favorite. Matthew’s too. You struck some of the most absurd dares with Matthew in places like this, trying to one-up each other when attempting these games. 

Tonight, he’s by the bar and you know that now would probably not be a good time for you to drag Mark with you for any introductions. You leave him with Rachel and the rest of the boys at one of the few tables as you begin making your way to him. 

The bartender greets you as soon as you arrive. “I’ll have what he’s—Oh. Actually, just a Bud Light for me, thanks,” you correct when you see that Matthew had opted for something stronger. He doesn’t look at you. “Congratulations on the win tonight.” 

“It was a fucking stupid win, tonight. Barely pulled it through.” He speaks through gritted teeth. Matthew’s entire body is tense, as is his attitude.

“Sometimes, these wins can be the best. Good show of resilience.” 

He scoffs. His smile is bitter when he turns his head towards you. “Can always count on you to share some wisdom.” 

You frown. “What’s up with that?” 

“What’s up with you,” he retorts. 

“Nothing, Matthew. I want to talk with you like I always do but you’re acting funny and I don’t know why. If I did something wrong, then you need to tell me because I can’t read your mind. I don’t know what I did wrong. We were cool, weren’t we? Yesterday, the day before, even this morning… We’re cool, aren’t we?” you question, frustrating easily leaking into your voice. “You’re treating me like I wronged you somehow, but I don’t think I deserve it without know what I’ve done.” 

Matthew inspects the surrounding area, his eyes undoubtedly falling on the table where you’d deposited Mark. When he looks back at you, his expression is schooled into careful neutrality. “Who’s he? Where’d he come from?” 

“That’s Mark, Matthew. I, uh, started seeing him a short while ago and thought to bring him along tonight to introduce you.” Your expression lightens up almost automatically and you grin, excited. “He’s a huge Flames fan! I think I might have competition, coming to think of it. You guys come up in conversation pretty often. He’s been following the team since he was a kid so…dream come true, I guess,” you say, nodding your head towards the table. 

Matthew casts a brief glance back towards the table, assessing Mark no doubt, before looking down to the drink he’s been nursing. “He’s good to you?”

You release a breath you weren’t even aware of holding, relief flooding you. “He’s no Tyler, that’s for sure. I think I learned my lesson from that time.” You watch him carefully, playfully leaning forward on the bar a little just to try and catch his eye. The attempt doesn’t go unnoticed by Matthew and he responds to the antic with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still genuine. “You okay? It was a rough game.” 

“Surprised you bothered to watch it with that pretty boy on your arm.” There isn’t as much bite in his words this time around, thankfully, and you don’t bother commenting on that. The past few hours or so have been bad enough already thinking you’d wronged Matthew somehow; the last thing you want is to go back to square one where you argue with him. “Could’ve gone worse, but I think the other guy had it worse than I did.” 

“Yeah, you were kind of dragging him around the ice for a bit,” you admit with a wince. “But you’re not hurt?” 

“Nah, ‘m good. It really wasn’t as bad as it may have looked,” he assures. 

“Hey.”

You turn to follow the sound of your voice, coming face to face with Mark. He wears a big, pleased smile and his expression turns to pure elation when his eyes land on Matthew. He doesn’t reciprocate, barely acknowledges Mark. 

“Oh wow, man. I’m a big fan. I’m Mark. Y/N told me all about you,” Mark says and throws an arm around your shoulders, squeezing.

Matthew’s eyes briefly settle on the hand Mark is using to hold your shoulder before he shifts his stare back to Mark’s face. Disinterested, he makes a noncommittal sound and arches an eyebrow. “She did? And what’d she say?” 

“All good things, I promise. It’s been a praise-fest, but then again, I wouldn’t have expected any less. It’s pretty cool what you’ve been doing all of last season. Just sucks you guys couldn’t get through to the playoffs,” Mark states in a matter-of-fact tone you know Matthew doesn’t appreciate. You can tell by the twitch of his jaw and the way his knuckles whiten just a little as his grip tightens around the almost-empty glass. “But it’s been a good start to the season so hopefully the momentum keeps going. Actually, coming’ to think of it—babe, did I mention it?” he asks and for a moment, you’re floored by the sudden use of the pet name. 

Admittedly, Mark seemed somewhat reticent to label what you two have had for almost a month now, so it catches you by surprise. It doesn’t bother you. The pet name, although you can’t say the same for the lack of a label. Sure, you don’t want to rush things and after Tyler, you do prefer taking things slowly, but this is one area in which Mark failed to offer a sense of security. You tried not to dwell on it, though. The more you did, the closer you got to a relatively low period in your life which you got through fine, sure, but you could do with not having your trust, heart and confidence broken. Again. 

It’s the expectant look Matthew throws at you that seems to kick your gears back into function and you stutter, “sorry—what?”

“I used to play hockey too, back when I was a kid and up until college. Had a pretty good record, actually, got quite a few big names reaching out to me,” Mark reveals. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“That so?” Matthew drawls. “Why’d you stop? If you were so good at it.” Matthew doesn’t say it nicely at all. He’s more mocking than anything and you try to shoot him a warning glance, but it goes totally over his head. 

Mark misses that, however. He shrugs casually but his demeanor is unlike what you’ve seen from him so far. You’d seen the very same attitude countless times around college and especially, at parties. It’s every bit the attempt to come across as the alpha male. 

“Don’t think I would’ve been able to deal with the attention, really. All the cameras, all the people and the fans. It just would’ve been a little too much for me at some point. I think you know what I mean. Couple of scouts do keep in touch with me regularly though, just in case I change my mind. Imagine that, babe.” Mark gives your shoulders a quick shake, then presses a kiss against your temple. You manage a smile in response, pretty speechless and unsure how to respond to that; he never mentioned anything like it sooner. “Then you’d be wearing’ my jersey instead,” he adds, making a whole show of looking at your back where Matthew’s last name and number stood on proud display. “Hey, coming to think of it. We could actually get one personalized, don’t you think? Little anniversary gift when we get there.” He bends down so quickly you had no time to anticipate the kiss he presses on your mouth, the palm of his head resting on the back of your head to keep you in place. 

It’s short and not really sweet, but there’s thunder in Matthew’s eyes. He downs what’s left of his drink and throws a look over your shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it,” he mutters but he’s only looking at you, not even bothering to acknowledge Mark. “I’ve got some plans for the rest of the night.”

“Matt…” you start, but he doesn’t look back at you. 

Mark occupies his seat instead, although you turn to follow Matthew with your eyes as he cuts through the crowd. He stops just short of a petite brunette who seemed to have been eyeing him until your arrival because when he arrives, you can read that sort of body language she uses easily: she flicks strands of nicely curled hair over her shoulder, dips her head just so as she laughs to whatever it is that Matthew says to her, looking up at him through her lashes. You purse your lips, mouth suddenly dry and turn away from the sight so quickly that you try to not linger too much on the why behind that. 

-

Mark is different, but in the wrong sort of way. At first, you thought his support towards the Flames was truly something more genuine, truly rooted in a childhood pastime but it takes a drunken spiel for you to find out just how wrong you were. 

It happened just days after you introduced him to Matthew, while watching an away game. The Flames were playing in Toronto and as is usually the case, you managed to clear your evening in order to catch the game from home. Mark had dropped by out of the blue so you figured the two of you could spend the next few hours on your couch, cheering when appropriate or yelling at the screen if the other team scored. Except, it was just you sitting on the edge of the seat while Mark went through one bottle of beer after another. At first, you didn’t pay much attention to the commentary he made whenever a Flames player missed the net. To viewers, it seemed easy to say that if the puck was hit only a fraction of a second earlier, it would’ve gone in, but you could only imagine the pressure the players were under. But progressively, his tirade was a constant; something you didn’t really need to have going on while you were trying to focus on the game. That, and he was starting to border on downright rude. These were your friends he was slamming, and you didn’t want to bear witness to it any longer. 

“When I played, nothing like this was ever happening’, you wouldn’t catch me dead making such rookie mistakes,” he bragged. “That was a fucking rookie mistake. Now, I get this is only Tkachuk’s second regular season, but sometimes I swear he tries to start up fights just to try and get people to overlook his mistakes—”

“Mark, drop it. Now,” you warn, voice low. 

“I’m not lying though. What? You can’t be honest because he’s your friend or something? Come on, Y/N, you saw what just happened now. Rookie. Mistake. You don’t do stuff like that in the pro league—”

“How would you even know,” you sighed.

“What?” 

“I said, how would you even know? You’re not playing pro, haven’t played pro so how would you know if that was a rookie mistake or an interference? It sure looked like he was being prevented from reaching the puck,” you explained tiredly. 

Mark scoffed. “’course you’re going to stick with him. Can’t expect anything’ less—no, no. Can’t expect anything more.” 

“Mark, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Maybe we need to call it a night,” you suggested and to further make your point, switched off the TV and stood up, ready to walk him to the door. It made your blood boil that you had to miss the end of the game. 

It took him some time to come to terms with the fact that he was being thrown out of your place. When he finally did and walked to the door where you held it slightly opened, he glared at you. “Figures you’d take his side. Dude’s not only trying to compensate for his skills on ice by stirring up shit, but he’s also trying to compensate off ice by looking at other guys’ girls rather than getting his own.” 

You rolled your eyes. Mark was well tipsy so only he would know what he meant, but you also knew that Matthew had absolutely no problem getting girls. Whichever one he wanted. 

You hoped you wouldn’t be proven right when you turned up to his place the next day, knowing he would be back in Calgary. Thankfully, when Matthew opened his door, he seemed to have only Sean for company, and both were smashing it on a game console. 

“Not out with your boyfriend today?” he questioned.

You blinked up at him, confused. “What do you mean boyfriend?” you asked and weren’t even feigning it. After all, Mark had avoided that label. At Matthew’s pointed stare, you groaned quietly. “He talked badly about you, so I sent him away.” 

Matthew blinked, then slowly, he started grinning. “You broke up with your boyfriend because he talked shit about me?” He threw his head back with laughter, stepping aside to let you in while you mumbled an embarrassed give me a break, Matthew.

From the couch, Sean called out, “who broke up with who because they talked shit about you?” When he turned around and saw you, he smirked, said, “ah, figures,” then turned back to the game. 

three.

Chris is convenient. He starts coming to hang out with you, Matthew and the rest of your friends when Matthew begins seeing Madison often enough for it to be something a little more than casual between them. The second season is mind-blowing for the Flames as a team and Matthew individually. He continues leading them points-wise well into his second year with the team and, unsurprisingly to you, makes it All Star. When Matthew returns from Missouri, Madison comes with him. He introduces her to everyone a night before the regular season returns and she’s every bit the sort of girl you imagine Matthew to end up with. She’s tall and her build is testament to being a yoga instructor with an impressive follower count on social media, and she knows exactly what to say to wow everyone. She’s a social butterfly fluttering from person to person, fitting in as easily as if this has always been her place. She wouldn’t struggle to capture anyone’s eye the moment she walks in the room and it wouldn’t surprise you if Matthew would say it was love at first sight. You’re pleased for him, really. He seems to glow with her on his arm and occasionally, when they seem to be lost in a world of their own, you look towards them (Matthew) and an overwhelming feeling of want fills you. 

“Do you want a refill?” 

You almost jump in your place but thankfully manage not to, just about. Chris is a close friend of Madison’s who resides in Calgary during term time and he’d tagged along with her this evening. He doesn’t know much about hockey, so the players present tonight had to introduce themselves to him. Sometimes, he confuses them and it’s a little cute how he profusely apologizes, all genuine-like. 

“Yes, thank you,” you say and almost slide your empty cup towards him but out of the corner of your eye, you just about catch Madison leaning into Matthew, lips pressing to his, and you stand up in a last-minute change of heart. “Actually, I’ll come with you. I want to see what else is on offer.” 

You really are pleased for Matthew. It’s just that he’s been a little distance throughout the course of the evening, is all, barely exchanging a word with you. Barely even glancing your way and each time someone made a joke or some sort of reference the two of you would definitely understand, Matthew would always shift his gaze away from you if you’d managed to catch him looking in your general direction. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to dedicate as much attention as possible towards his…well, girlfriend. There’s no thrill quite like the start of a new relationship and coming to think of it, you could maybe count on a single hand the girls you’d seen Matthew with. And even those you have seen it was strictly between them how long they would be together and for what reason. You didn’t want to question him. Though, honestly, maybe you should have taken the liberty to do so given he seemed to be vetting all your own boyfriends regardless of whether you asked him or not. 

“So, where do you know them from?” Chris asks as soon as the two of you make it to the kitchen. Compared to the rest of the place, it’s significantly less busy although the noise from the living room carries. “I don’t suppose you’re seeing any of them?” 

You feign disappointment. “That obvious?” When he laughs, you confirm with a shake of your head. “I knew Matthew before I knew the rest of them. Naturally. I met him back in high school while he played in Ontario. I was there for two years before coming over to Calgary with my family. This was before Matthew started playing for the Flames, but we’d kept in touch anyway, so it was a pretty pleasant surprise when he was drafted for this team. One thing led to another and, well, here we are,” you conclude with a shrug. It’s only after Chris raises his eyebrows that you realize how odd that must’ve sounded. Flushed, you shake your head quickly, panicking somewhat. “No, no, no! Not like that. Definitely not like that. Sorry. I mean, once he flew in, we got in touch and here we are.” 

Chris laughed while you sorted through some of the bottles left on the kitchen island as a free-for-all, not rooting for something in particular. “Sounds like the two of you are pretty tight.” 

You cast a cursory glance towards the living room. Matthew is engaged in conversation with Sean and Noah while Madison is being led away by one of the other girls towards the balcony. “We’re good friends.” 

Chris didn’t question you any further on your friendship with Matthew or anything of the sort. Instead, you find out both of you attend the same college, but he’s in the first year of his graduate program while you’re just due to wrap up the third year of undergraduate. Chris is the middle of five siblings which, he claims, makes his life both a living hell and a nightmare depending on which two he leans more towards on any given day. It’s funny to hear how chaotic it could be. You never really felt lonely growing up as an only child, but there are times when you wish you could have someone that has known you the way only a sibling could. For you, your tightly knitted circle of friends filled in that gap, so you were grateful. His stories were endless though, one more hysterical than the other and before you knew it, you were part of the handful of people still around and it was well past midnight. Between his company and the few drinks you had, one of which was a rather impressive mixer he made with what was available, you’d lost track of time. Track of quite a lot of other things apparently, because one moment you were leaning against the counter and the next, Chris was crowding you against it. Though the two of you weren’t kissing, your heads were close together and his breath was warm against your skin, sending chills down your spine. 

“Mads is looking for you.” You push Chris away as if you have been caught in a less savory act, taking an extra step back for added caution. Matthew looks from Chris to you, then back again before pointing back over his shoulder. “She’s on her way to get her jacket and we’ll head out in a little.” 

“Are you taking her home?” Chris questions. 

Matthew looks at you briefly, then nods once. “Yeah.” 

“Oh, good,” he says to Matthew and then to you, “wait for me? It’s pretty late so we can head out together.”

“Sure. Thanks,” you respond, flashing him a small smile before he heads out of the kitchen, leaving you and Matthew alone for the first time that night. Actually, for the first time in about a week, give or take a few days. It feels like forever. “So, Madison. She’s gorgeous. How’d you manage it, Tkachuk?” you joke and thankfully, you pull off just the right tone for it. 

“Just,” he responds with a shrug of his shoulders.

You arch an eyebrow. “Great story! Definitely one for the books. Honestly, you really got me at the part that would make anyone go ‘use your words, Matthew’. I’m pretty sure there were actual tears in my eyes, so imagine how that story’s going to go down with the crowd years down the line.” This seems to do it for him. You see the beginnings of a smile until slowly, he’s reduced to silent laughter that makes his shoulders tremble from it. 

“Yeah, alright, whatever. Smart me again, see where that gets you,” he challenges.

“Two steps ahead of you but we’re making it three tonight because I deserve extra credit when you make it especially difficult. I’ve gotta burn off double the energy whenever you do that, Matthew.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay, you’re special like that. I get it.”

“Had fun at the All-Star game?” you ask because you didn’t get much of a chance to hear from him about it. Not directly, anyway. You definitely watched the broadcast though, but hockey games and events like this always seemed entirely different when they were related to you directly from the source.

Matthew is a good narrator, though, always weaving in some witty remarks or chirpy statements. But he still remains honest as he recounts the days spent in Missouri, saying how great it was to be around so many other players in an environment that was less competitive and more about coming together and having fun. It’s a significantly condensed version of events, and after he finishes recounting some of his stand-out moments, he says, “anyway, it’s getting late. Grab your jacket, I’ll take you home.” 

You blink, confused. “Um, Matthew.” 

Right on time, Madison arrives with Chris in tow and she hooks her arm around Matthew’s, pressing a kiss on his cheek and confirming she’s ready to go when he is. Maybe it’s the alcohol muddling things up for you, but you’d swear the smile he shoots you is apologetic. 

“Force of habit,” he says but doesn’t elaborate when Madison asks what he means by that.

Even later, when you accept Chris’ invitation to his place and by extension, his bedroom, you can’t deny the regret you felt. The last words Matthew said to you at the end of the night bounced around in your head and they sounded an awful lot like that force of habit will now become a thing of the past. 

- 

Chris is convenient because he’s there whenever you need to fool yourself into thinking you weren’t thinking about Matthew in ways you hadn’t before. Or at least, not as often. 

You certainly carried a flame for Matthew during the first few months of your friendship back in high school, but you figured that’d go away once you moved to Calgary. Except, there he was also, just a few months after you and suddenly, you were sixteen again and relating to every pinning song that came on the radio while Matthew’s face flashed through your mind, trying to figure out if you wanted his last name or yours to come before the hyphen. If you really thought about it (you did: once in the morning, once at some point throughout the day when time seemed to be ticking by slowly and you were idle, and once while trying to fall asleep, damnit), then you had to admit to yourself that all along, you allowed yourself to go from one romantic disappointment to the next to fill a gap you know would never be filled anyway because none were Matthew. In worst cases, none were Matthew and they were dicks. Regardless of how often you tried seeing yourself with him (and you definitely did; always wondering how it’d be like if instead of sitting side-by-side on the couch, you could be lying down on it, comfortably embracing), a cloud of realization always formed: you were a childhood friend of his, the girl-from-way-back who he saw at her worst and her best, but this was it. Sure, he knew you as well as one could know a person and where would the element of surprise still be? That air of mystery, the je ne sais quoi that apparently draws men in like bees to honey.

So, Chris is convenient, and you feel bad that that’s all there is to it. Sure, he is good looking and funny and genuine but to you, he’s another guy trying to fill someone else’s shoes. He’s simply too nice to allow yourself to try and continue something with him which you know you’ll never put your entire heart into.

This time, when you let Chris go, you do not tell Matthew about it. You figure there isn’t really space anymore for you to fit in from such an emotional, private perspective. Matthew has moved on to a different sort of baggage. 

four.

Kyle is flirty and direct. You also know that Kyle will probably not last long, not just because he won’t be around for longer than a summer but also because you simply lost that spark of energy that pushed you to consider others, to give someone else a shot that Matthew can’t take. The two of you meet at the summer lake house of one of your high school friends who is due to tie the knot there in the next few days. He’s a family friend and has flown in from abroad, so you take some comfort knowing that both of you are on the same page: you can mess around a little without any expectations right from the get-to and there is something so freeing about that. 

While you are joined by your best friend as your plus one, Matthew comes with Madison. They’re a good few months in their relationship and though it hurts, you slowly start to come to terms that it’s just something you have to deal with. Maybe next time, you could appreciate what you have next to you sooner, before it’s gone. 

Not that there will be a next time, anyway.

The lake house is amazing. It’s sprawling, rustic and homey and the entire décor for the event has every little detail fit in with the general vibe. There are white wooden chairs arranged on the grass in neat rows up to the point where the wooden deck begins. A tasteful arch with an array of white and pink flowers stands where the bride and groom will exchange vows and from there, all guests will move to the reception area which has been arranged to accommodate both outdoor and indoor seating. 

You make the most of all that it’s surrounded by, and also by the general buzz of activity as the big day approaches. In fact, you barely glimpse Matthew or Madison, or Matthew-and-Madison. You’re not actively avoiding them at all, but there’s just always something to do or help out with, not to mention the numerous people coming, going, then coming to stay. Many attendees are from your high school and in a way, this also doubles as a reunion and it’s during evenings of catching up that you come to be within earshot of Matthew. 

It hurts you to say it, but it feels as if the two of you may as well be strangers, civil acquaintances at most whenever you do contribute to the same topic of conversation. You feel as if somehow, you’re losing him as a friend – and very rapidly, at that. Somewhere between the start of his relationship with Madison and now, Matthew feels less constant and more impermanent. It’s a feeling you’re still trying to process, but it’s taking you some time. 

For now, you take your assigned seat, Rachel on your left and much to your surprise, Kyle at your right. The two of you flirted often and though you’ve exchanged a few kisses now and then, it never went beyond that. Neither of you pushed for anything more so you were happy to just take what he was willing to give. Soon after the wedding, you’ll be catching a flight back to Calgary while Kyle…well, he’ll be doing whatever it is he has planned. 

As guests fill in, you look around curiously—not searching, just curious. If your eyes land on Matthew, then that’s just pure coincidence. He’s in your line of sight, what can you do? You try not to dwell on how nice he looks in his crisp white short sleeved shirt and light blue trousers, sunglasses resting atop his head. This time, he didn’t do much to style his hair and you ached to rewind back to days when you could run your fingers through it freely. As if feeling the weight of your stare, he withdraws from the conversation he was engaged in and looks right at you, not even needing to search the crowds. You purse your lips and flash him a smile but turn away quickly.

If Matthew had some sort of sixth sense, yours fails you today. As the bride and groom exchange rings, you can’t hold back the flow of tears at the tender moment shared between them. Rachel holds your hand tightly, though she does a better job at managing her emotions. Too caught up in that, you don’t feel Matthew’s eyes on you from where he is sat across the aisle. 

-

The reception takes you from one range of emotions to another. Thankfully, more pleasant ones this time. You engage in conversation, clink glasses of champagne and pick at the variety of canapes though your sweet tooth seems to win this one tonight. Like the food, there is a buffet style area for desserts and, much to your utter delight, a cotton candy maker that you beeline towards from across the room. 

“Knew I’d find you lurking here of all places.” 

You jump a little at the sound of Matthew’s voice, but he only snickers in return. When you regain your composure, you lift a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, follow your nose to the sugar and that’s where you’ll find me, Matthew. It’s really not that hard. If I were the location marked X on a pirate’s map, I’d be the easiest one to find.” 

Matthew opens his mouth, then closes it again. He looks away when he speaks again. “Not really. You’ve not been easy to get a hold of.” 

“You’re really not one to talk,” you say lightly, trying valiantly to not look too deeply into his words in an attempt to put your own meaning to them. “Hey, brighten up, Tkachuk. This is a wedding, saving your glaring for your shifts on ice.” You chuckle and when he throws a disproving look your way, you hold out the candy floss to him to further your point. Matthew doesn’t turn down your offer. He tears some of the pink floss and as soon as that piece melts in his mouth, he reaches to tear another though you playfully hold it away from him. “I didn’t say you can have more than a taste, Matthew, get your own. I don’t like sharing more than I have to.” 

He regards you with an odd expression that you can’t put your finger on. “Neither do I, but here we are.” 

“Matthew Tkachuk, man of many words. What’s up, seriously? I’m thinking this is more than just a cat’s got your tongue situation. You’re acting…weird. Not very you.” 

“I’m acting weird?” Oh, here he goes. You know the way things change when he parrots your words back at you. “You’re the one that hasn’t called, hasn’t texted. Didn’t even drop by once lately. I know you had your end of term stuff to deal with, but last I heard, you wrap up in April. It’s July, and you didn’t say a thing to me since May. I had to hear anything from you—about you from Sean. It’s not cool. So really, who’s acting weird? Me or you?” 

You frown, feeling unfairly attacked by him. Sure, you reserved your messages strictly for game night, wishing him good luck as the playoffs approached and once, after the Flames lost their bracket game and had their road to the Stanley Cup cut short, called to speak with him directly, to hear his voice, but what more could you do? Turn up at his place early in the morning with breakfast or in the evening after you’d finished what you needed to for the day? Do that and know you’d run into him or her or him-and-her, imposing on their homely bliss just because you hold (held?) the best friend position? 

“Matthew, what the hell are you talking about. Isn’t it obvious? I can’t just turn up to your place and hang out like before because—well. You know why—”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Matthew, because I know you’re not.” 

“Thanks. That’s comforting.” 

You roll your eyes, but it takes a great deal of effort to not burst into laughter as you fall in place to something resembling your familiar back-and-forth. “Matthew. I’m not acting weird. I’m simply giving you the space that you and your girlfriend need. How would it look if I’m there? What would she think if I just end up letting myself in whenever I feel like it? It doesn’t work like that anymore, Matthew. You know it doesn’t.” At his confused stare, you groan loudly. “Matthew, come on. Stop pretending you don’t understand.” 

“I’m not pretending. I genuinely don’t understand. I’m forced to watch one of my best friends get further and further away and I don’t know why. I don’t know why this is happening to me—to us. Why I have to be the only one to watch this happen and not know what to do about it.” 

“You’re not the only one,” you supply softly, his words easily soothing your mood. “I have to see it happen too, Matthew. You’re just, well, busy. And I’m just a little busy. So, I guess there’s a clash there.” 

He narrows his eyes at you and then looks around the rest of the gazebo. “Are you referring to Madison?” 

“What? No! No, oh gosh. Matthew, no. Madison, she’s—she’s great. Awesome and I’m happy for you. So very happy for the both of you. I think both of you look great together, but she does carry the weight for the both of you in the looks department, I have to admit—”

“You’re trying to overcompensate for something you’re not telling me.” 

“What do you—”

“Look, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think I am, even if I’m going on my gut feeling with this one. Do you have feelings for me?” 

There’s a loud buzzing in your ear, suddenly. Have they started the fireworks already? No, wait. It can’t be that, but there’s definitely something buzzing…ringing…no. Throbbing in your ears. With horror, you realize that noise might actually be the raps of your heart while your mind instantly blares warning signals with signs basically announcing ‘caught in the act!’. You can swear nothing would make this situation worse than if Matthew were to hear the mess happening in your chest right now. It’s not far from impossible, really. You can hardly hear any of the other background noise anymore. 

“What.” 

“Gut feeling. Like I said, correct me if I’m wrong. But there are times when I thought…maybe, were you looking at me funny? It couldn’t be right though, because you were seeing people and if you weren’t doing that, then you were either fighting off another heartbreak—” Ouch. “—Or, well, were hanging out with me. But it was then I’d think maybe, but probably not.” You honestly needed Matthew to stop talking yesterday. But this is Matthew so he goes on, full steam ahead. “It didn’t come to mind again until, well, recently. Right around the time you started being around less. Kind of coincided with Madison.” He concludes that with a shrug, but his eyes are anything but reflective of the casual demeanor of his body language. They’re intense, watchful and it’s like a flip gets switched on within you and embarrassment takes over.

It’s not the sort of embarrassment that can be played off with a laugh or dismissed with a joke. It’s the type that makes you want to breakdown in tears and hide away from people, from Matthew for as long as it’ll take to forget this even happened. Forever, if you have to. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say, but can’t tell what you’re sorry about: for your feelings and what that will do to your friendship or for starting to make a run for it. “I just—There’s something I need to do, and I can’t be here right now.” You turn on your heel and quickly push through the crowd, leaving the half-finished candy floss with Rachel who just about managed to get a word out as you jogged right past her. 

By a wonderful twist of fate, it’s Kyle you run into. Actually run into, and when you tell him to not worry about whatever expression he’s seen on your face, he follows without any further questions as you drag him further from the gazebo. You don’t go very far. Frantically, you pull him to you and kiss him deeply, eyes squeezing shut and your entire body presses up to the entire length of his. This seems to be enough for him and he gets with the program almost immediately. His palms trail the sides of your body and his tongue nudges past your lips. You grant him entry immediately, not thinking too much about it. Or at least, not until he comes up for breath by peppering kisses along the column of your throat. While he does that, one of his hands had somehow pulled your leg to hook around his lip and his palm was now trailing your thigh, slipping under your dress.

“Wait, Matthew”

He comes to an abrupt halt. “Y/N, I’m Kyle.” 

You blink, confused. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that?” 

“You called me Matthew.” 

What. “No, I didn’t.” 

“You did.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, petrified while Kyle takes a step back. 

“Look, I think we need to stop—”

“Yeah. Yeah, good point. I’m sorry, Kyle,” you apologize. “This… I’m sorry, this is so shitty of me. I don’t know where my head’s at…” 

He sighs a small sigh and when he smiles, it’s almost pitiful. “No harm done. I just hope you find it in time. Do you want to get back to the party?” 

You shake your head, still a little shaken. “Not now. You go ahead without me.” 

He nods without saying a word and starts making his way back towards the gazebo. You watch until he blends in with the crowds and you turn towards the house. As if the night couldn’t take another bad turn.

+ one.

Your flight to Calgary is scheduled to depart in the early afternoon. Both you and Rachel leave the house well in advance—well, well in advance because the last thing you need is to be in close proximity with Matthew and Madison. You didn’t know how you’d watch her in the eyes again after the events of the previous night which you recounted for Rachel in a mumble on the way to the airport. 

“He was bound to find out at some point,” she says to you and really, after all of that, the last thing you need to hear is something rational like that. “You haven’t been exactly subtle about it. Even some of the boys noticed. We talked about you behind your back often about this.” 

You glared at her. “Thanks, Rach. That’s really supportive of you. That’s exactly what I wanted you to do—”

“Relax, Y/N. I promise no one let any of that reach Matthew. If he picked up on it, he did it himself. Probably with a little help from your heart-eyes whenever he was around. Sometimes, I swear you were just one step away from your pupils actually turning into hearts. Could be a little nauseating,” she admits, and you know it’s not ill-intended, but you still complain about it all the way through security.

Rachel deposits you on seats close to the boarding gate while she goes around the stores, and you’re satisfied. You get some time to try to evaluate the situation but there’s very little you can go on. Sure, your friendship with Matthew is about to change drastically. More for worse than the better, that much is clear but you need to run through your options of salvaging what could be left of it. Matthew is a long-time friend of yours and your feelings aside, you’d still care for him deeply. If it has been difficult for you these past couple of months, at least now you know it’s going to get worse. At least, you have a heads-up about it now.

You can’t tell if a long time has passed, but when Rachel returns, she drops in the seat next to you, heaving a sigh.

Except. Wait a minute. 

You twist in your seat quickly, coming face to face with Matthew. Your first instinct is to look around for Madison but when you don’t see her at his side, you assume she’s simply browsing around. 

You drop your voice to a whisper when you talk with him. “What are you doing?” 

“Hi,” Matthew greets. “I’m obviously here to play a game. In a few minutes, you’ll all be directed down to the concrete level where the ice rink is being assembled out of rainwater and plane fuel. The mascot this time is a 90,000-pound commercial jet and instead of t-shirts, they’ll be throwing around suitcases.” His expression is serious, and you can’t help at his perfect delivery. Matthew never misses a beat. Just when you think you one-up him he comes out with something sharper right out of the blue. “I’m here to get on a plane. Kind of the function of an airport. What are you doing?”

You hesitate before answering, not quite sure how to approach conversation with him suddenly. “Going home. Obviously. Function of an airport and all that.” 

“Okay.” Matthew slouches a little in his seat. “Can I come with you?” 

“Are you going back to Calgary?” 

“Yeah.”

“Then, duh. We’re about to get on the same plane.” 

“No. I mean, can I come home with you? Home-home. Where you live.” 

You stare at him, baffled, but that quickly switches to frustration. “Matthew, it’s not funny. I get it, from the outside it might seem it. Like, ha-ha look at her and her little crush on Matthew, isn’t it cute? But it’s really not funny to me and I’d appreciate if you could back off and not put me in a more awkward position than I already am. First with you and soon enough, with Madison if you keep this up. Look, Matthew. I apologized last night and I’m doing it again now. I’m sorry if this puts you in an awkward position, but I’ll deal with it soon enough. You don’t need to acknowledge it. As a matter of fact, I’m asking you to do that. Now, please. Could you just—please, just drop it? Where’s Madison? I really don’t want her to hear any of this, honestly.” 

Matthew narrows his eyes a little and purses his lips as if inspecting you. Honestly, he can be such a pest off-ice also and it grinds you nerves in a way that you know only Matthew can do.

“Madison’s flying to Missouri later,” he responds at last. 

“Oh. Um. Okay. Well, why?” 

Matthew starts swinging one of his legs as he adjusts in a more comfortable position in his seat. “Because that’s where she lives,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I think it is cute. Your crush on me. How little are we talking about here, though?”

What the hell. 

What the hell is wrong with him and what the hell is wrong with this situation.

You realize you must have voiced that out loud after he chuckles. 

“I—uh. Do you think we can maybe not use the word ‘crush’ here?”

You roll your eyes. “Why? That too cute for you or something? Anyway, you’re really not making any sense and I’m a bit, no—a lot confused, so—”

“I like you too. But not a little. I like you a lot. I don’t think it’s cute though, not to me at least. It sucks watching you go into a relationship with a guy that doesn’t even deserve you, only to have you come out of it hurt. Sometimes, I wonder how much you’ll really be able to take before it gets too much and then you write it off entirely. Before I could even ask you for a chance,” he admits, flooring you. “Madison is going back home because I realized I was with her for all the wrong reasons. She didn’t deserve to be a second option. I think she realized it way sooner than I did though. She just—she wasn’t you. No one can be. Will be. So, can I come with you?” 

You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your knees and head held in your hands, staring at the floor blankly while trying to process. One by one, the words sink in, but it takes some time to also process them properly. Matthew likes you. Matthew likes you too.

A set of fingers wrap around your wrist, gently lowering your hand down and then Matthew releases his hold only to keep his hand out to you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. You stare at his palm for a moment and then place your own into it, watching in fascination as his fingers interlink with yours once you lean back in the chair. 

Above you, an announcement calls all passengers boarding the 2.40pm plane to Calgary to make their way to gate 20A for boarding.

-

Matthew is animated, volatile, annoying and endearing, often nearly all at once.

In your bed, though, hours after the sun has risen and he starts stirring awake, Matthew is all soft sighs and low groans. His hands search for you blindly and when they find you, he pulls you to him until your legs intertwine with his and his chin rests atop your head, holding you there until either he considers it an appropriate time (often, so late that you’d barely just catch conventional lunch hours) or you really need to make a move on, for one reason or another. Always, he complains about having to move but you learn it’s really just a ploy of his to try and earn a few soft-spoken pleasantries from you. A come on baby here, and a Matthew, I’m really fucking serious now there can make the world go around.

Today, he chooses to make the most of the last day off before training camp begins ahead of the new season. You don’t complain and let him have this moment. After all, it’s yours as much as it is his. 

You press a kiss against the base of his neck and his response is a hummed mhm.

[blueaetherr]

three in the room

pairing: kai havertz x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): (soon-to-be parent) baby fever

summary: the one where the third party makes their presence known in the room

During the early evening, Y/N and Kai returned to each other in the living room where they watched random sitcoms to pass time before heading to bed. They swapped out discussion for silence, laughs occasional after every comment made by Gina Linetti. After the rush that came after training, after the boredom that tagged along with loneliness in an empty house—it was nice and comforting for the pair to fill in those gaps with deliberate delay, familiar interest and company.

Y/N hummed in awe after taking a deep breath out through her mouth with her hand feeling over her pregnant stomach. A gesture that became habitual from the time she and Kai had discovered the pregnancy—a motherly instinct she picked up before becoming an official mother, socially and legally. There was only so far you could take the meaning of the word—making it your own—and Y/N took it on before being given the label of one.

She would rub over her transitioning bump every day to remind herself that she was supporting a life, to remind herself that in times where she believed she was alone—when Kai had gone astray, when she was alone in a supposedly empty house—that actually, she held company close to her. It was uncomfortable, unexpecting and heavy, but it was real and there. With the pregnancy, naturally, followed ghost company.

Ghost company until a few moments later.

Feeling a nudge, stretch or poke—Y/N couldn't put a name to it at first sight—she moved in her position, gaining the attention of Kai who sat behind her. His eyes moved away from the TV while he moved his hand away from his face. "You okay, love?" he asked. It was a simple but underwhelming question on his behalf. He couldn't not worry about how she was feeling, how the baby was feeling. But he had to reach a middle ground with his girlfriend, so he approached her with the question hoping she wouldn't hold back.

Her thoughts delayed the response. Y/N could differentiate one feeling from another; morning sickness from tiredness; being tearful from being irritated. Though this recent one seemed unfamiliar and unusual. It modelled other feelings she has experienced yet was still distinct. Can you really recall something you've never experienced before? I mean there was one that came to mind, but Y/N didn't want to raise her hopes only to be left disappointed. Her mother told her once that she would know when it happened though there was uncertainty in her thought process, trying to consider whether her instincts were right or if she was just reaching.

Kai calling out her name caused her to drop out of a daze. She nodded. "Yeah, I'm just trying to get comfortable—" She gasped softly after she felt it again, and again, and again. It would stop and begin after a while, the action from the sender almost shy and exciting. The feeling addictive that she didn't want it to just come and go. It was fleeting and gentle, a ripple against her belly. The idea of knowing when it happens soon dawned over Y/N upon familiarising herself with it. The baby is kicking.

"Shit. Kai, did you feel that?" Y/N said with a small voice. Overtaken by sudden emotion caused her voice to fall short of volume.

He paused the show and turned to Y/N. "Feel what, love?"

"Here." She reached for his hands from behind and placed them over her stomach, letting her own rest on his. "Just take a. . ." Y/N sighed to herself as she tried to blink back the tears. Having done a pregnancy test and seen the sonogram pictures, the young woman was well aware of the growing life inside of her. But feeling her baby kick and nudge for the first time just made everything feel more real. It placed everything into perspective, just like the pregnancy tests and sonograms have done so. The only difference was the kicking was an indication that she was pregnant from the baby rather than a hormone test or a doctor.

She would never forget—and neither would Kai—but maybe it was the baby's way of saying I'm still in here. There's three in the room rather than two.

Kai's face lit up with content, his usual worry and concern dying out for a while. His hands felt over her stomach to feel the baby roll and stretch around like weave. Leaning his face into her shoulder, he smiled saying, "Yeah, I do."

[butmakeitgayblog]

I will gladly spend my life rolling out a red carpet for you wherever you go if you want to write a MBFW drabble about those piercings.

"Love!"

"Sweetcheeks?"

"Your assistance is required."

A long stretch of silence passed between the affectionate exchange of yells before a loud sigh made her smile.

"But I'm comfortable," Lexa heard the self-proclaimed couch potato whine back as she eyed the faint tan line that peeked out just above her bust line.

A week of painstaking attention to coverage, a week of taking the time to flip and bathe on alternating sides to keep everything even, of choosing only the skimpiest of bikini ties and religiously getting the loaf flaked out on her sofa to rub sunblock and lotion over every inch on display, and still, the twin strips of two-toned skin mocked her reflection. She made a note to toss the bikini that had obviously betrayed her into the trash.

But the allure of her own skin, still golden weeks off their senior year springbreak trip was too good to waste away in her shitty sixth story apartment.

It was just... well.

"Clarrrke."

"Yeees?"

"I need you."

"I'm very needable."

Lexa let her hands fall to her hips with a huff. "I need you in here."

"But the tv is out here."

"... There's boobs involved!"

All it took was a quick count to three for a predictable groan to ring out amid the sock-clad padding of feet.

"That's not always going to work. And it was a commercial, so don't get cocky," Clarke sighed as she perched herself against Lexa's bedroom doorway, arms folded and face thoroughly unimpressed. "What's the boob emergency?"

Smiling despite herself at the antics, Lexa gave herself a final look in the mirror before turning. "Too noticable?"

Blue eyes dropped to where she motioned toward her chest.

And stayed there.

As warm as Clarke's eyes on her always made Lexa feel, all it served to do was make her more antsy.

"Um..." Clarke breathed with a shake of her head and blinked herself out of whatever thoughts had clouded over. "I mean. They're— I— I can see them, yes."

Lexa deflated at the confirmation of what she had very much already known.

It was starting to drive her crazy, this transition into being someone who had jewellery constantly attached to her breasts. The constant considering her choices in clothing and coverage and realizing just how much the damn things acted like a homing beacon to every set of eyes that saw her.

She didn't regret them. Really loved them, in fact, but feeling eyes that weren't her own (or a certain shade of blue) openly caress her chest in pubic was beginning to be a bit much to take.

Lexa sighed and sent out a silent ode to her past self, innocently living her thoughtless, blissfully average-nippled life.

"Why the long face, sweetcheeks?" Clarke said with a frown as she pushed into the room. "You look hot."

"Because this is my nicest dress and I wanted to make a good impression."

"Okay? I'm still not seeing a problem. Again, you look hot. Like... really hot."

Lexa rolled her eyes and fought back the blush that always accompanied any of Clarke's praise. She loved that Clarke was always her greatest cheerleader. But it wasn't exactly helpful in that moment. "I was going for attractive, yet professional."

"Well you look those too. I know I'd sure hire you."

A wink and smile met Lexa's narrowed-eyed glare.

"I want to be taken seriously, Clarke. I can't exactly do that with my nipples popping out of my dress like little whack-a-moles."

She couldn't help her own dejected laugh when her best friend snorted and settled on the edge of her bed, only to lounge across the duvet like she owned the place.

Lexa always loved that look on her when Clarke lazed in her home.

"If you're that worried, just wear a bra."

Lips pulled back into an apologetic grimace when Lexa whirled around and pointed to the bare expanse of her back with a strangled sound.

"Right," Calrke rallied immediately. "Right, so... Suit, then. Go for the whole, 'power lesbian' vibe. Totally professional, will cover the peepers, and! Most importantly, still hot as hell."

Lexa mulled over her choices and gave her plan up with a redesigned sigh of acceptance before grabbing the suit she knew without question was on display in Clarke's mind.

She undressed in the threshold of her sorry excuse for a closet, took her time changing into boxes and choosing between two bras she ultimately decided to forego.

"So do you hate them now?" Lexa heard from behind her as she pulled neatly pressed slacks up and felt eyes her follow the entire way.

"The piercings?"

"Duh."

Lex paused halfway through doing up her belt. "No... Why, do you think I should?"

A loud scoff had her smiling because she absolutely already knew the answer.

She wanted to hear it anyway.

"Only if I suddenly went blind," Clarke said with a groan as she stretched further out across the bed and collapsed. "But you seemed annoyed, and... I don't know, you got weird the other day when that chick from the bagel place kept looking—"

"Staring," Lexa corrected as she riffled through her jackets. "She was staring while you were standing right there! Who does that? You could've been my girlfriend for all she knew, and she just kept doing it."

"... Yeah, but I'm not your girlfriend."

Lexa's hands faltered on a hanger at the quiet statement.

At how small Clarke sounded.

Her shoulders lifted as she sucked in a breath that did just enough to settle the guilt ridden butterflies that had erupted in her belly. Because it'd be worth it and she'd make it up to her when everything was ready. When she was ready.

Because that was the whole point of nights like tonight, with all the networking and the elbow rubbing within the east coast literary society. That was the point that she'd been working toward since she'd watched everything almost slip away from her. And she'd be damned if that was going to happen, to her or to Clarke, so if the sacrifice of happiness now meant brighter future later?

So be it.

Besides.

"I know," Lexa tried in a teasing lilt to break the tension and get them back to their relaxed eased. "'Cause you already have a girlfriend."

"Ew. No, I do not."

"Oh? So the girl you're sleeping with on a regular basis is...?"

She prided herself on the fact her voice only sounded the tiniest bit strained.

"I've slept with Niylah a couple of times," Clarke huffed. "That doesn't make her my girlfriend. I mean, last week we bought hot dogs and then made out on her couch. Does making out with hot dog breath sound like girlfriend activity?"

"Well," Lexa conceded and bit back a grin. "You certainly never did with me."

"I rest my case, jackass," Clarke muttered in a way Lexa could practically feel her scowl. "Now can we get back to the topic at hand?"

"My nipples?"

"Always."

"I don't hate them," Lexa sighed and finished spritzing her chest with the bottle of cologne Clarke had bought her for Christmas. She knew from her very scientific one-woman-survey that it smelled best when applied directly to her skin. "They're just like little magnets for every perv in the tri-state area to oogle... And not to mention they're... tender."

"Tender?"

"Yeah," Lexa said and felt heat flush her cheeks.

"What do you mean?" Clarke said in a rustle of sheets as she sat up. "Like they hurt?"

"Sort of."

Lexa went to reach for the button down laid draped over her dresser but then... then a rather delicious idea occurred to her instead.

It was shameless, and she could accept that, but with the name of Clarke's latest fling still fresh on her tongue, Lexa let her hand slip free from the shirt and slowly turned around.

She watched blue eyes grow hooded as they trailed down her chest.

"Do you think I should be worried?"

"What?" Clarke said in a throaty breath that Lexa felt everywhere.

She stepped closer. Settled into the space between Clarke's legs and frowned at the face staring up.

"Your mom's a doctor," Lexa reasoned very innocently. "And you know I trust you. What do you think?"

Clarke's throat bobbed in a swallow as she let her eyes drop.

Lexa wet her lips when hands pressed to her ribs, and she had to give Clarke credit where it was due, because her friend was always respectful. Always a gentlewoman (more or less). Always careful of when to cross certain boundaries, and more importantly, how.

So Lexa selfishly let herself enjoy the feel of those hands on her, every bit as much as she always did. She enjoyed the heat in blue eyes and the rushed pace of her pulse. She barely breathed as fingers traced the lines of her ribcage. Thumbs swept the under curve of her breast before apply gentle pressure.

"Does this hurt?" Clarke croaked and then shifted her touch higher. "Here?"

"No," Lexa said and it was all she could do not to sway into the touch when thumbs ghosted over pebbled pink.

The pad of Clarke's finger tapped the edge of the barbell that adorned her nipple and maybe she hadn't thought this entirely through.

"I think you're okay," Clarke seemed to get control of herself with the low sound of Lexa's groan at the twinge, only long enough to let her hands drop back to Lexa's ribs. But her fingers flexed and she pulled Lexa closer until her breath warmed the goosebumps that erupted across her skin. "They look good. I mean— I think they're healing just fine."

"Yeah?" Lexa tried around the lump in her throat that wouldn't seem to go away no matter how hard she swallowed. She let her own fingers toy with a few errant blonde curls. "All clear then, Dr. Clarke?"

"I think so."

"You think they look nice?"

"Mhm."

"Hey, Dr. Clarke?"

"Yeah?"

Lexa slipped a knuckle under the dip of Clarke's chin and slowly lifted her gaze upward.

"Your patient's up here."

A cherry red tongue peeked out from between a toothy smile.

Talk about shameless.

Lexa wondered if it tasted like the candy they'd shared earlier.

She leaned down and popped a kiss to the cutest nose she'd ever seen in her life and gave Clarke a wicked a smile.

"See what I mean about being a magnet for pervs?"

She let out a loud belly laugh when those hands sent her stumbling backward with a shove, once so tenderly holding her, instead following her every move with a defiant middle finger lifted in the air.

"You can't shove boobs in my face and expect me not to look. It's cruel."

"And I thought I was the boob girl between us."

Clarke sniffed and gracefully rose from the bed, though the blush that flamed over her cheeks was more than worth it. "My disease is situational. Yours is a chronic condition."

"Is that your official prognosis?"

"Yes, smartass."

"Situational, huh? You saying my boobs are irresistible?"

An unrepentant blonde brow lifting was her only answer as Clarke swept from the room.

Lexa grinned and slipped the shirt over her shoulders and started doing up the buttons. The sound of her tv roared back to life as she strapped on her favorite watch, the one that matched its twin currently binging a trashy show in her living room, the watch she wore whenever she needed that secret little bit of comfort that came from the words, 'My fearless Lexa. Love, Papa Jake' engraved in the metal pressed against her wrist.

She warmed at the memory of their undergrad graduation day every time she put it on.

She needed its faith with her tonight.

"So who's this date again?" Clarke called over the back of the couch as Lexa beelined for her shoe rack and toed on the loafers that complimented her suit perfectly.

"Not a date, love."

"Not the point, sweet cheeks."

"Uhh," Lexa tried to remember through her eyeroll while fighting with her suit jacket and grabbing up her keys. "Cos... something? Maybe. I think."

"Thank you. Now I have a name to give police if you don't come home."

Lexa laughed as she gave herself a moment to breathe and leaned on her elbows over the back rest of the couch. "It's not a date."

"You're picking her up to wine and dine her—"

"I'm picking her up because my boss asked me to," Lexa soothed to the petulant that wouldn't look at her. "And we're going to a work event to kiss up to hoity-toity publishing drones. Does that sound like date activity?"

Baby blues pinned her in a bored look when Clarke let her head flop to the side.

She couldn't resist brushing that perfect nose with her own.

"Listen," Lexa whispered in the scant space between them. "I'm gonna go to this stupid dinner. And smooze people I don't particularly like. And then I'm gonna come home, and have a real dinner with you. Okay?"

Her lips tipped up into a fond smile when Clarke smooshed her forehead to Lexa's own.

"Promise to wake me up if I'm asleep?"

Lexa pulled back just far enough to press a kiss to her favorite person's lips. "Always, love. You think I could ever have midnight pizza and shitty movie night without you?"

Stubborn eyes watched her fix the lapel of her jacket.

They turned soft when she bent down and gave her another kiss.

"Eleven thirty at the latest!" Lexa reiterated for the hundredth time that day.

"Yeah, we'll see what your date has to say!"

"It's not a date! So keep the couch warm for me. I love you!"

She only closed the door after a quiet, "... I love you too."