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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?”

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts.

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?”

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.”

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.”

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars.

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know.

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy.

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?”

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?”

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.”

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.”

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable.

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature.

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends.

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second.

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie.

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet.

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?”

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.”

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way.

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words.

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.”

“What’s there to discuss?”

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?”

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?”

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room.

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time.

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.”

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight?

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant.

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.”

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?”

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked.

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone.

“You sure?”

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering.

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy.

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more.

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington.

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.”

You’ve never been so short with your friends.

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off.

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?”

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues.

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.”

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker.

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?”

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.”

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie.

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face.

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.”

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping.

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him.

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever.

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?”

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space.

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation.

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him.

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?”

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends.

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.”

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment.

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.”

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think.

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie.

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on.

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.”

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants.

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra?

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one.

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.”

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases.

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line.

It almost makes you smile. “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now.

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.”

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you.

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.”

“Oh, you must see the irony there-”

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.”

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it.

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?”

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.”

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily.

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.”

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror. The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand.

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate.

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?”

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point.

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose.

We really need to just buy a second helmet.

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it.

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly.

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words.

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.”

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found.

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?”

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?”

“That’s my shirt.”

“What?”

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.”

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you.

Bastard.

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.”

—

You were wrong. They do notice.

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other.

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?”

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely.

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric.

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good.

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly.

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.”

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?”

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.”

Ah, fuck.

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck.

Fuck.

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier.

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s.

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid.

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead.

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away.

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.”

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey.

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance.

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed.

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.”

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself.

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.”

“Is that a good idea?”

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots.

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly.

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?”

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames.

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight.

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?”

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie.

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is.

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough.

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything.

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?”

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-”

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?”

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss.

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!”

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly.

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.”

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?”

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look.

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-”

“Holy shit.”

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-”

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no.

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly.

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?”

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm.

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones?

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.”

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out.

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.”

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!”

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is.

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten.

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble.

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?”

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds.

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him.

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, “But, I just- I really liked this photo.”

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him.

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him.

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips.

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?”

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good.

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.”

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval.

Well, so much for next time.

You give him a little nod.

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything.

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary.

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!”

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.”

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.”

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?”

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?”

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home.

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air.

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him.

And the feeling was mutual.

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real.

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.”

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?”

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.”

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more.

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier.

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had.

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?”

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself.

“How’d you know?”

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.”

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.”

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.”

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.”

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment.

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat.

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now.

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week.

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time.

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real.

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup, “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.”

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months.

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him.

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?”

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind.

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you.

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.”

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult.

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots.

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot.

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.”

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.”

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass.

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie.

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.”

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.”

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do.

And yeah, you did know what to do.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.”

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues.

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back.

Next time. You have to tell him next time.

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly.

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind.

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her.

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless.

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun.

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars.

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you.

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie.

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves.

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“

Now. Not later, not next time. Now.

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike.

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?”

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-”

Why is this so hard?

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy.

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right.

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him. It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was.

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily.

Loving Eddie is easy.

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him.

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year.

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life.

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.”

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you.

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours.

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.”

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.”

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself.

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.”

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?”

“They do.”

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be.

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off.

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo.

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!”

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other.

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable.

Finally.

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking.

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly.

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.”

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home.

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.”

His lips meet yours for good measure.

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

#twenty four hours #eddie munson #my writing #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #i cannot believe it's over holy shit #holy fucking shit #told y'all the photo would make a reappearance!#im resisting the urge to be so so sappy jesus christ

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celestialtarot11 · 2 months ago

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Astro Post 🪽

Hi lovelies! A new astro post for ya’ll! Hope ya’ll enjoy! Feel free to like comment and reblog with your feedback, or thoughts. I would love to hear! 🤍

divider creds: @fairytopea

Cap moon babies…it takes us a while to figure out who we are amongst the chaos. I think its important for Cap moons to experience living alone, outside of trauma because its necessary for our development. We crave stability and order, and when we live in an environment that isn’t conducive to that, we get unstable within ourselves. That being said: cap moons need to be alone at some point to figure out who they are instead of constantly saving people around them, or adjusting their personality to reduce backlash. Love you cap moons 🤍 (including me)

Pisces moon, ya’ll be similar to cap moons too. Its easy for yall to get stuck to your environment because it feels safe. It feels like its your only “checkpoint” to everything feeling real. So much that when you enter the real world it feels like a dream. Doing day to day things can trigger dissociation, because you only really felt alive during the traumatic moments. Pisces babes, please if you can create a safe space for yourself to grow outside of trauma. Just like cap moon.

And I think this goes for everyone regardless of astrology.

Aquarius placements, the need to feel unique and special can become tedious. Aquarius placements feel this way to feel chosen, and validated in their community after being neglected. Sometimes perfectionism can get in the way of Aquarius loving themselves truthfully, because they want to project an image of accuracy. So much that people can’t make out anything wrong about them. If they have neptune affliction to their personal placements, its almost about: “an illusion,” “i was never really there,” “and you cant find anything wrong with me if i never existed.” And some of them own this insecurity and work with it. Aqua placements, regardless of your past you will always be chosen by your higher self and spirit 🤍 you have someone rooting for you: you. Your future self.

Leo sun women, you don’t have to dim your light to seem more “mature,” “smart,” and “poised.” You are the light your inner child needs and anyone who stifles that, is also stifling the love you share to your inner child. Think about it. Your joy is your inner child, you get excitement from the littlest of things and having someone constrict that: means they are lessening the relationship you have with yourself. Don’t stick around with people who rain on your shine! Stick with others who shine with you. Leo sun women are so connected with their heart and inner child, that relationship is strong. Of course it can be weakened with trauma and pain, but Leo sun women need to be surrounded by those who uplift them!

Virgo placements knowing when something isn’t right and then dissing their intuition. Virgo pls, in esoteric astrology you’re known as the messenger of intuition and divine order! Gemini is the process of expressing it, but Virgo is the vessel to receive it. You guys know whats up immediately, and have a strong sense of internal navigation. You guys know where to find and create safe spaces if theres none, and your intuition knows if someone isn’t up to any good. Save yourself the villain arc, and trust yourself babes 🤍

Aries rising libra on the descendant, many others expected you to be poised, graceful, and humble to the point of neglecting who you are to fit in. Aries rising I think, always knew they weren’t the type to just “fit in,” since they were young. They knew they’d be open, outspoken, authentic and honest. Even if it shook people, which isn’t the same as being blunt: it’s called being truthful. And the truth scares people who avoid it. As Aries rising grows older they hone their personality that is honest, bold and confident, and releases the codependent part of them. 🪽🤍

Extra 🤍

Paid Readings 🪽

PAC Readings 🪽

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silverhairsimp · 3 months ago

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The dad osamu brain rot has been unbelievably real.

AN: complete and utter fluff. Osamu and reader have a daughter. Minimal dialogue.

Also: how is this my first Osamu fic/drabble??? I love this man. thinking of doing an entire dad series... lemme know if you're interested. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Find: dad!Atsumu here

Banner from @cafekitsune

Your daughter is only four and osamu is convinced that these last four years have been some of the best of his life. Learning how to be a dad, watching you become a mom, coming up with ways to parent together, figuring out his daughter’s interests… there was such a sense of sentimental pride when his daughter begged to go to work with him on the weekends.

Which is where your husband can be found without fail. He’s got your daughter on the counter, lending a hand while she shapes her onigiri. She’s doing her best, which is why every time the two of them do this, Osamu asks his little girl “you sure you don’t wanna be like yer mama? Or find yer own thing you love?”

She might have his dark eye brows and those beautiful grey-blue eyes, but she looks like you, and it makes him love her even more. She just shakes her head and looks up at him with big eyes and a smile while she eats the sticky rice off her fingers. “I wanna be just like daddy!”

Her cheeks also have grains of rice sticking to them and osamu can’t help the way he wraps his arms around his little girl. Clinging to these moments for dear life because he knows how fast she’ll grow up. How distant these memories will seem one day...

She’ll probably change her mind about wanting to be just like him. Who knows, maybe she’ll start to look up to her uncle Atsumu and wanna be just like him. Or she really find her own interests and forget all about the times they spent in this kitchen together. He hopes that never happens and this will always be something the two can bond over, even when he starts to age and she goes off to start her own family. He knows that’s years and years away, but he can’t help the way his mind drifts to the future, then back to the past.

He thought he was getting his hopes up, but when you surprised him with that going home outfit: a dusty pink onesie decorated with tiny onigiri on it. He should’ve known then, that his baby would be a daddy’s girl through and through.

And it’s no surprise that when she could start talking and asking for things, that the first item she asked for was an apron to match her daddy. You and Atsumu had worked together to surprise them both with new ones, since your husband’s old one was more than a little worn out.

At just two and a half years old, your baby girl was jumping up and down with excitement, waving the apron in the air and running straight to her daddy so he could put it on for her. Osamu remembers looking at her with the softest smile and tears brimming his lash line while he held her close.

Her little voice pulls him out of thought once more, “daddy? Did I do good?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods his head, “you did great, sweetheart. Wanna try to wrap it now that you’ve got the shape?” She’s already reaching for the nori with a frustrated little pout when more than one piece sticks to her fingers. “Here,” he brings a wash cloth over, with a little dish of water, “let’s wipe your hands. It’ll make it easier.”

She follows his every instruction, folding the nori where Osamu pre-creased it. “Should we make mommy some for dinner? We can bring them home and surprise her?” The light in her eyes is one he remembers fondly. He and his brother used to get that same shimmer in their eyes when they’d land a perfect set in a volleyball match. And he’s caught himself even more often now that he has you, his beautiful wife, and his perfect daughter.

There’s so much in his life that he’s thankful for and it’s all started with you.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu #dad osamu #osamu miya #dad osamu miya #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #osamu fluff #miya twins #uncle atumu #silver hair simp writes #silver hair simp fics

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nebulaafterdark · 1 year ago

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Exile (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 1

Haymitch doesn’t sleep, but he does wait until a reasonable hour to climb out of bed to drink. And glare at Y/N from the dining table of their suite.

Their wedding attire, as well as the sheets they’d consummated said marriage upon, had been prompted collected. Nothing is ever really theirs. Not their clothing or their houses, nor their bodies. Everything belongs to the Capitol, everything belongs to Snow.

It is a foolish endeavor, trying to keep Y/N safe. Haymitch knew it from the moment her name was plucked from the reaping bowl. Surely she would die in the arena, but somehow she didn’t. Surely Snow would kill her after, but for some reason he didn’t.

For a moment, Haymitch almost believed that he could do it. That he could save her. Spare her from this. But Snow wanted her; everyone wanted her. Haymitch’s stomach turns at the rather extensive list of patrons who are chomping at the bit for just one night with her.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know if it was pride or stupidity which caused him to blurt out that he would do anything, in exchange for Y/N’s safety.

Clearly Snow intends to take full advantage of anything. The victors of district twelve can still prove themselves useful and lucrative. A new means to entertain and distract people from what is really going on.

Haymitch isn’t sure how many of the Capitol’s higher ups will have seen their wedding night by now. Not that it matters, most of them have already seen him anyway. But they hadn’t seen her.

Some part of him understands that it is stupid to become attached to her. She’ll be another person for the president to hold over his head. She is just a stupid girl, who makes him do stupid things.

Y/N begins to stir against the mattress.

Haymitch knocks back the remainder of his drink. He has the full lineup waiting for her. Uppers, downers, sleeping pills, painkillers, something to calm her nerves. All color coded and laid out on the table, next to a glass of water.

Sure, there are other ways a person might comfort another. But Haymitch isn’t familiar with them. However, he’s on a first name basis with pills. Booze.

Y/N’s lips part and she lets out a sleepy sigh.

God those lips…her mouth. The noises she made.

Haymitch slaps a hand against the table. He could not and would not think about it. She didn’t want him, she was forced. They both were. He has to figure out how to live with that.

Eventually Y/N wakes, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes find him, at the table, watching her, intently. She excuses herself to the washroom and returns a few moments later. Haymitch is still staring. “Good morning,” she says, in a weak attempt to break the awkward silence.

Haymitch grunts in response, observing as she opens her travel bag in the corner and produces a tablet. The same one she taps away at day and night. Frankly, he’s surprised it hadn’t ended up in bed with them. “What are you doing?” He asks, as she presses a button and the screen comes to life.

“I was just…” about to pour my heart out in a word document, then seal up the file. “Going to play a game.”

“You should take something,” Haymitch nods to the pills, “then you should eat something.”

“Which ones do you take?”

“None.”

“Did you eat?”

“No.”

“Then we should call for breakfast.” Y/N turns her gaze back to the tablet screen. “What do you like?”

“Are you taking notes?” Haymitch huffs a laugh.

Y/N arches a brow, “yeah.” Knowledge is power. Anything from how a person takes their eggs, to their favorite color.

Haymitch purses his lips, “I like bacon, crispy, toast with strawberry marmalade, and eggs over easy. What about you?”

“Oh,” Y/N jots it down, waving a dismissive hand. “I like french toast, with fruit. Hash browns, with hot sauce and coffee. I love coffee.”

“They’ll have it sent for you, back home in twelve. They’ll send you anything you ask for…they’re not supposed to give us money, but things, they are allowed to give us things.” The people who get to watch. The people who pay to watch.

“Do you think we’ll have to do it often?”

“I think last night will keep them entertained for a while.” Haymitch says, “how are you?”

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up. The ask is too intimate. “I’m fine.”

Haymitch sighs, “white one’s for pain, pink peps you up, blue helps you sleep, yellow is for nerves.”

Y/N clears her throat, “my mom…has a pretty nasty addiction to morphling.”

He can respect that. “You should only take what you need then.” Nothing less, nothing more.

“I don’t really need anything.” Y/N lifts a shoulder.

“But you will take one if you need to?”

“Yes, Haymitch.” She assures him.

“Does this bother you, then?” He lifts his bottle between them.

“No.” Y/N shakes her head. “You said you wanted to keep your liquor, that was one of your terms.”

“But does it bother you?”

“No, Haymitch. It doesn’t bother me. We all have our vices. I take notes, you take shots. We are who we are.”

————————————————————————

They take the first train out of the Capitol, after they’re dismissed by President Snow. It takes about a day and a half, straight from the Capitol to twelve.

Haymitch keeps mostly to himself. His own room or the bar car.

Y/N realizes that he values space more than anything. She keeps that in mind when they return to victor’s village. Going their separate ways.

Y/N slides the key into the lock, turning it open and flicking on the light. Home sweet home. After a while she takes the stairs up to her bedroom on the second floor. She turns the knob…and then she screams.

Cameras, like the ones in the honeymoon suite. Folded away neatly against the far wall. No envelope. No threat. Just a promise, that they’ll have to use them one day.

She stumbles back into the hallway, colliding with something firm. “AHHH!” Y/N turns, ready to fight off her intruder.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s me.” Haymitch hushes her.

“Haymitch?” She breathes.

“What happened?”

“They’re in there,” Y/N tells him, burying her face against the crook of his neck. “They’re in my room.”

“Who?” He’ll kill them.

“The cameras.”

Fuck. Haymitch tightens his hold. “Then you’ll stay with me.“ Snow must’ve had them placed strategically, to set her off. He wanted the cameras to be the first thing she saw, the second she felt an ounce of comfort, returning to her own home. “Stay right here, with me.”

“But my-”

“I have spare rooms, we can clean one out for you. Until then, you can stay with me. We’ll make it nice for you. Whatever you want.”

“You wanted to keep your house.” He asks for so little. “I know you need space.”

Haymitch draws back slightly, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s big enough for two, we can figure it out.”

Y/N nods, as he thumbs tears from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

She can’t go home, back to the house in town, she grew up in. This was made clear the day she became a victor, but she can come here. To him. And Haymitch would welcome her with open arms.

————————————————————————

Haymitch is used to sleeping with a knife under his pillow. But with Y/N landing in his bed night after night, he is forced to retire the blade for her safety.

He still has nightmares. Just like Y/N. Twisting in the sheets restlessly, waking her as he does.

“Haymitch,” Y/N whispers. Shaking him, lightly. “Haymitch, it’s Y/N. I’m here with you, in district twelve. You’re safe now.”

Haymitch startles awake, to soft fingers carding his hair. “Angel?”

“You’re safe.” She says, a second time.

————————————————————————

President Snow is quite pleased with the results of his latest stunt, the cameras in Y/N’s room. The closer his problem victors become, the less likely they will be to cause a fuss.

Haymitch has proved, time and time again, that he will go to great lengths to protect his former tribute.

Coriolanus remembers that feeling well. The way a woman like Lucy Gray or Y/N Undersee could make a person feel. Especially a mentor. The need to save a dying bird is strong, until they inevitably bite the hand that feeds.

Y/N will bite Haymitch eventually, deep; to the bone. Snow is sure of it. Because that is what pretty little birds do.

Part 3

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl

#haymitch abernathy x y/n #moves & countermoves #exile #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch smut #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy #the hunger games

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lopsicle · 1 month ago

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Caine’s Extravagant Obscure and Explore Championship

TickleTober Day 4: Hide and Seek

Lees: Pomni, Kinger and Zooble

Lers: Jax, Gangle and Ragatha

Summary: Caine’s latest in-house adventure involves the circus members playing a totally not a rip-off version of Hide and Seek. Jax introduces a twist that catches on.

After the events that happened at the Candy Carrier Kingdom, Caine, despite all his ignorance, recognised that the circus members needed a lighter, more fun adventure for their day. Really, they didn’t need some problem to deal with at all, but his artificial mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend that. Instead, her perused through his old files, looking at the games he’d have planned if a child ever entered the circus, before finally landing on one. Obscure and Explore, a play on Hide and Seek because Caine would never stoop so low as to blatantly copy a game, he always had to put his own spin on things.

With a comically large and loud trumpet, Caine emitted a screeching, piercing sound through the tent, enough to penetrate the walls of each circus’ members room, resulting in some annoyed groaning or horrified screaming. It did work however as one by one, they teetered out of their rooms, knowing better than to go against Caine lest he just become more persistent. Once Zooble finally left their room, Caine figured it would be the best time to explain their new adventure.

“Now, I know all of you critters are a little tired after yesterday, so I’ve managed to prepare something that will be sure to give you your fill of absolutely fantastic fun to make up for that!” He cheered, though no one marched his excitement. Ragatha put on a polite face, which was painfully obvious to everyone except him.

“Thanks, Caine,” Ragatha didn’t know when she started treating Caine like a human, but it helped ease her mind to think of him as the same to them, instead of what he really was, a God amongst the tormented. “What is it?”

“I hope your prepared, my dear, for the first annual Extravagant Obscure and Explore Championship! Here’s how it goes, you’ll be spliced into two groups, one the Obscurers, the other, the Explorers! The Obscurers will have one minute to find a place to hide in the tent before the Explorers have to go looking for them! They’ll have one hour to find all the Obscurers, if they do, they’ll win and if they don’t, their loss!”

It wasn’t the worst idea he’d had, it wasn’t pleasing to Zooble to learn that this was an in-house adventure, they’d already had one of those just two days ago. They did not want to have to deal with the others’ today, especially Caine.

“Isn’t that just hide and seek?” Jax asked, placing a hand on his hip as he gazed at Caine with a disinterested stare.

“No, it’s totally different!!” Caine shrieked, waving a dismissive hand at him. “You’ve never played a game like this in a digital world before, have you? And since I’m making this into an annual competition, you’ll be able to count exactly how many years you’ll spend in here!” Caine explained excitedly, though that didn’t seem to please anyone.

“Uh, don’t do tha-.” Pomni was cut off by a snap of Caine’s fingers, teleporting her across the floor of the circus, with Kinger and Zooble standing beside her. Opposite to them was Jax, Ragatha and Gangle, with Caine floating between them. Jax’s team were all given a vest with a large E on it, and a pair of dentures chomping at the centre of the letter that resembled Caine. Pomni’s team had a large O on it, of which the centre was filled with playing cards, vaguely resembling a face.

“Uh, whose this supposed to b-?” Pomn pointed to her vest though she quickly cut off once again.

“Jax, Ragatha, Gangle, you’ll be the Explorers; Pomni, Kingle and Zooble will be our obscures!” Caine said, a little louder than usual.

“Ugh, do I have to?” Zooble groaned, already trying to rip off their vest, though it proved difficult since their head was a triangle.

“But of course, my dear, if we don’t have you than the teams will be uneven, and Bubble hasn’t been allowed to play since The Incident.” Caine steered into the distance as his tone took on a rare seriousness that almost made the others concerned, but he quickly bounced back.

“Bottom line is, you’ll all be participating today so good luck, my dears,” Caine flicked a few buttons on his Wacky Watch ™ and a large, digital timer was displayed at the top of the tent, set to one minute. “Now, once I disappear this timer will start, so Explorers, close your hide to give the others a chance to hide!” Surprisingly, they all complied though Jax was sure to take peaks whenever Caine wasn’t looking. In an instant, Caine had flushed away and the timer began ticking down and down.

“Well, #{$+ this, I’m going back to my room,” Zooble shrugged dismissively, before walking away from her teammates, leaving Pomni and Kinger alone. Pomni was going to awkwardly offer him a goodbye as she went to hide, but he was already staring off into the distance and shaking violently so instead, she just opened her mouth, closed it again before dashing away.

30 seconds. Pomni didn’t know why she was taking any of this seriously, she should’ve ignored whatever Caine was saying to her, none of it mattered anymore. He was just an AI, a few strings of code that didn’t understand them-hey, that table could be a good hiding spot-who had no idea what they even wanted and was only write one out of a thousand times.

15 seconds. Caine was stubborn and cruel, even if it was unintentional, he didn’t save her time of day, any of their time, even Jax’s. She’d gladly leave him here once she got the chance. Why was she taking this seriously? Why was she currently crawling underneath a fake dining table covered in fake food that barely even fit her? Pomni couldn’t answer that, but it was probably something about seeing Ragatha and Gangle excited to go along with this, for whatever reason.

0 seconds. An annoying beeping filled the tent, the two girls opened their eyes to see Jax’s already wide open.

“Well, I’m off to go find the newbie,” he announced, placing his hands behind his back. He didn’t earn a reaction out of the other two but thankfully for his own ego, he wasn’t focused on them at the moment., so they were spared from any further annoyances. Jax was keen on following Pomni, he knew that she couldn’t be holding up all together after yesterday and thought that this would be his chance to make it a little worse for her. He saw her walking off into a side room, where Caine stored the supplies for the feast Bubble prepared for them a little while ago. Jax was expecting to have to put in a little amount of effort to finding Pomni but it was blatantly obvious when he stepped in, spotting the jester’s legs sticking out from underneath the table instnatly, her red and blue shoes sticking out against the golden polygons that textured the floor.

“Oh gee, I wonder where Pomni could be,” Jax’s uninterested, infantilising voice spread through the near empty room as he hopped up on to the table, pretending to look around while Pomni was painfully aware of how obvious she was now, but trying to shuffle her way fully under the table now would just be pathetic, in her opinion. She was just about to announce herself to Jax sourly, before a gloved hand plunged its finger into the back of her knee.

“I-eeeee!!” Pomni squealed at the touch, her legs blindly kicking about, a blush forming on her cheeks from the noise she just produced.

“Oh, clown girl, is that you? What are you doing under there?” Jax grinned to himself, squeezing Pomni’s knee once again before she could respond, producing another loud squeal as well as getting her to kick her feet against the ground in frustration.

“I-it was for aaaaaadventure, ohohobviously, stop thahat!” Pomni screeched at him, trying to shuffle her way out from underneath the table but it was like her legs had turned to jelly, she couldn’t focus on anything when laughing.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything!” Jax had to hold back a laugh at Pommi’s frustrated cry, continuing to bully her knees by jabbing his thick, gloved fingers into the back of her knees, or just by giving them a good squeezing.

“Jahahahax, if you don’t stop rihihight #¥$^ing now, I swear-!” Pomni got cut off once again, because apparently no one cares about what she has to say.

“You’ll do what?” Jax asked, his voice wasn’t threatening or teasing, it was just knowing, he knew Pomni wouldn’t end up doing anything to get him back for this, either because she was practically stuck at the moment or because she lacked the confidence to enact revenge. All Pomni do was bury her face in her elbows and let put her frustrated squealing and giggles into them, wildly kicking her legs about in hopes that Jax would just get bored trying to keep up with her. Instead, he just dug his hands even harder to the back of her knees, latching into him as his fingers practically vibrated against her skin.

“Jahahahahahax!!” Pomni cried, satisfying his attention fill for the day. “Quihihihit it!” To her surprise, she actually felt Jax’s tough leave her body, although the phantom tickles did leave her a twitchy mess.

“Well, if your too ticklish to handle it,” he shrugged, already making his way to the door as to not have to deal with the consequences of his actions, “tell Dentures I participated if you see him. Oh, and the aim of Hide and Seek is to not get found, by the way.” Jax added unhelpfully before finally deciding to dash off, leaving Pomni to recover and slowly roll her way out from under the table.

•••

Ragatha unfortunately felt like she had an idea on where to find Zooble. Their room. Well, they did announce pretty loudly so it wasn’t a hard deduction to make, but Ragatha would’ve already known. Zooble had a habit of refusing to take part in Caine’s adventures, one that they made no secret of. Maybe it developed from some deep-rooted hatred they have for the ringmaster, or maybe theyjust preferred being left on their own. Either way, it left Ragatha stumped on how to help them, it seemed like the tasks Caine set them on were the only way to keep them sane, but she didn’t want to be too pushy to her friend. She gave a gentle knock to Zooble’s door, being allowed in once she confirmed that it was her.

“Found you!” Ragatha pointed her fingers at Zooble awkwardly, chuckling a little. They were sitting on their bed, back against the frame of it with their knees curled upwards. “You know, it can’t be good to stay cooped up in here all day.” Ragatha commented lightly, but Zooble averted her gaze from here.

“Yeah, no. I’m not living my life based on what someone else wants me to do, especially some AI.” Zooble huffed, if there’s one thing that they remembered from their life, it was a hatred for authority. Being plunged into a world where they had no control whatsoever, not even of how they looked, not even of their own bodies, was a living nightmare and as far as they were concerned, they could think of a good place where Caine could shove his routines.

“Oh well then…could I stay in here with you?” Ragatha offered gently, shocking Zooble lightly, having expected to be met with nothing but persistence. Luckily even Ragatha managed to see that Zooble didn’t need an elaborate adventure right now, maybe just a friend. Wordlessly, Zooble patted a spot next to them on the bed to which Ragatha took delightedly.

“Do you want some help getting that vest off?” Ragatha offered and Zooble immediately felt like a weight has been lifted, happily sighing and breaking out in a rare smile.

“Please,” they confirmed, meekly raising their arms above their head to allow Ragatha to relieve them of their clothing. She got to work immediately, grabbing the cuffs of the sleeves, starting to worm their way up Zooble’s awkwardly shaped arms. Rags that didn’t mess the way Zooble shuddered as her fingers ended up brushing up against what could only be described as Zooble’s armpits.

“Ticklish?” She asked with a small smile, and a tone she found she hadn’t genuinely used in a while.

“Don’t you dare.” Zooble warned them, though after years and years of putting up with Zooble’s rejections, Ragatha could tell that this wasn’t one of their serious grievances, just a playful dispute between friends.

“Oh, but how could I not?” Ragatha lamented with a playful grin, before deciding to plunge her nails into Zooble’s sides. Their skin felt akin to a bean bag, squish able and filled with…something. Zooble let a shriek before bouncing back against the top of her bed frame, wriggling about against Ragatha’s fingers as they kicked their legs back and forth.

“Nohohoho!” They whined, not able to remember the last time she had laughed, or shrieked this much but it felt oddly right in this moment.

“Wow, your such a squirmer, Zoobs!” Ragatha commented playfully, crawling down her fingers to the little bit of torso left exposed by Zooble’s vest, sliding her fingers against the pudgy skin. Zooble couldn’t keep their arms raised any longer, gently batting away at Ragatha’s arms as they whined beneath their breath.

“I’m a fihihihghter!” They corrected her, a few darker shades of violet appearing on their pink face. Ragatha stayed determined however, drilling her thumbs into Zooble’s tummy, which was proving to be a very sensitive spot for the poor enby. Zooble covered their face with their hands to the best of their ability.

“No fair, lemme say that smile!” Ragatha promoted her by jabbing her fingers into Zooble’s armpits, causing them to let out a wild cry and jolt upwards on the bed. Their arms immediately crashed down, wriggling against their sides and trapping Ragatha’s fingers. Zooble tilted their head away from Ragatha slightly, a genuine, happy smile on their mismatched face, with adorable giggles pouring out of it to top it off.

“Adorable.” Ragatha commented gently, circling her fingers against Zooble’s armpits for another few moments before stopping, leaving them a little more than flustered from the whole ordeal. While Zooble was still recovering from the sudden tickling session, Ragatha worked on removing their vest from them, triumphantly pulling it over their head before tossing it across the floor. Zooble leaned their body against Ragatha’s a little, just enough so that their shoulders were touching with Zooble still curled in on themselves.

“I..uh, thank, you know, for all of that,” Zooble commented, staring at a random spot on their bed, not needing to look at Ragatha to know that they were smiling gratefully.

•••

Gangle, armed with their comedy mask, began striding through the tent on her search for Kinger, given that her other two teammates had already went off looking for Pomni and Zooble. Even though Kinger was going to be the hardest to find, Gangle didn’t actually mind that. She got time alone when wandering through the tent, no fear of having her comedy mask being shattered, simply able to put her mind on the task at hand. And credit where credit is due, Kinger was the best Obscurer of their bunch, but time wasn’t an issue in the circus.

Gangle stopped as she noticed something that she probably should’ve taken note of before, a pillow fort, right in front of the stage, with some small muttering and rambling coming from inside. She manoeuvred her way over to the entrance of the smooth, soft cyan and white pillows, swinging her way inside.

“Found you, Kinger!” She announced cheerfully, hunched over in the comfortable spot, able to see Kinger sitting curled up in the corner. For a few moments, he simply sat there in silence looking at her, as if he was zoned out but he was quickly dragged back to reality.

“AHHHHHHHH-oh it’s just you, Gangle.” Kinger smiled once he came to his senses, Gangle initially jumped back startled from his scream but managed to relax. “What are we doing?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Kinger, we were all playing Hide and Seek!” Gangle whined, a little annoyed at herself that it took her so long to find someone who wasn’t even hiding before giggling a little at the fact that he was the person who took the longest to find.

“Oh, well, I found you!” Kinger announced, earning yet another giggle from Gangle.

“It’s the other way around, silly!” Gangle exclaimed, lightly poking Kinger in the side, to which he almost comically bounced back, practically lunging across the cozy fort. The two just stared at each other for a moment, Gangle half ready to apologise but Kinger beat her to it.

“A-ha, my apologies, Gangle, it’s been a while since I was tickled.” Even the word came off of his tongue awkwardly, like it hadn’t been used in a while. When was the last time he’d been tickled? It must’ve been when he was with…

As Kinger searched through his already forgetful mind, Gangle scooted over to him, a little bit of curiosity twinkling through their mask. They extended one of their ribbon-esque arms towards the man, before carefully wrapping it around his stomach beneath his robe. Kinger was too lost in thought to take note of the touch, only beginning to notice it once Gangle began circling her arm around his waist.

“Pfft-ahahahah, Gahahahangle!!” He cried out, curling in on himself even more, but nothing he could do could pull himself free of Gangle’s mischievous arm.

“Sorry Kings, this is just too cute!” Gangle announced, a delightful expression spreading across her mask, adoration being evident in her pitch black eyes.

“I dohohohn’t mind!’ Kinger admitted casually. “Just a bihihit perplexed abohohout why yohohour doing this!” Kinger asked, deciding now was going to be one of his moments where he’d be incredibly perceptive. Gangle paused for a moment in consideration before leaning against Kinger in a comfortable embrace, keeping her arms wrapped around him.

“You just seemed like you haven’t had attention like this in a while…I thought you could use it.” Gangle figuratively let down her mask, finding a chance to be vulnerable on her own terms with Kinger. His eyes squinted in gratitude whilst placing a disembodied hand atop Gangle’s head.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

••••

“Haha, Bubble, that is-that is not funny, that’s tragic.” The remnants of Caine and Bubble’s conversation seeped back into the tent as Caine teleported the two of them back their, ready to check in on the results of his latest adventure. It seemed like the Obscurers were doing their job very well at first glance since he couldn’t see any of them, only catching sight of Jax. Caine immediately flew down next to him, planting his cane on the ground next to the rabbit’s feet.

“Jax, my boy, how’s the adventure go?! Did you have fun?!” Caine asked, and if Jax didn’t know better, he wouldn’t of recognised the desperation in his voice, or in Caine’s widened eyes, fixed on him. Jax simply waved a hand dismissively at the ringleader.

“Oh yeah, Teeth, I definitely had fun!” Jax grinned, more than usual as he choose his wording carefully.

“Fantabulous! Where are the others?! I need to congratulate and/or degrade them for their victory/defeat!” Caine said, gazing around the room. Jax stared him down for a few moments, then looked around the room before shrugging.

“They uh, pretty sure most of them are resting right now. Why not surprise them with that bright and early tomorrow morning?” Jax suggested, already feeling amused as he imagined their reactions.

“Jax, your a genius!” Caine cried, shaking his hand gratefully before floating back up into the air. “Well, I won’t interrupt your rest either, my dear, have a lovely night and remember; I’m always watching!” And with a snap of his fingers, Caine was gone again and Jax was alone. He stared at the empty space where Caine was, then around once more. Casually, he turned and began striding with confidence, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Oi, Pomni, your not still on the floor like an idiot, are you? Come on, I wanna see how much damage we can do to Caine’s stuff before he gets back!”

•••

#sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle content #sfw tickle #tadc tickle #the amazing digital circus tickle #lee pomni #ticklish pomni #lee zooble #ticklish zooble #lee kinger #ticklish kinger #ler jax #ler ragatha #ler gangle #augtickletober2024

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kiddbegins · 5 months ago

Text

College Days - A. H.

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader Word count: 10.7k Summary: when you met Aaron back in college, he was not the serious bureaucrat he is in modern days. also kinda sunshine x grumpy but not in the expected way :) A/n: this was going to be one whole thing but... I think i'm going to do two parts so... enjoy !

You didn’t go to college to mess around. You were there to get your points. Get your degree. Get the job of your dreams. Well… your family's dreams but that was besides the point.

Not a day went by where your family wasn’t talking about you becoming a lawyer. It became such a usual conversation topic you nearly forgot it wasn’t your idea.

But you pretended it was. Besides, going down the coast for your law degree couldn’t be that horrible. George Washington University was far enough from family that you wouldn’t feel pressured into doing anything you didn’t truly want.

Which included the fact your parents wanted you to live on campus. Which you wouldn’t mind if you didn’t see that another first year was looking for a roommate about five minutes off grounds.

All your life you’d shared a room with your siblings. Literally from the day they were born up until graduation. Your sister and you shared a room, sometimes forced to share with your brother. So of course you leaped at a chance for your own space, own area.

And your now roommate, Louise Davis, was just the entry you needed. She was a biology major, you were there for political science and a minor for criminal justice.

A good duo.

There were rarely any classes together. You planned to take the necessary art class together though, a chance to have some time together where you’re not just mutually studying.

And you’d now been roommates for two, going on three years. Like sisters practically. Told each other everything, and really… everything. You knew WAY too much about her love and sex life with her boyfriend, Jared.

They’d been a whole ‘will they/won't they’ since freshman year but apparently sometimes over the summer he asked her out and they’d been together since.

Which was swell and all but you were… not a fan of his roommate. Aaron Hotchner. You were there for the same major but he was always acting like he had all the time in the world for everything.

You weren’t entirely sure you saw a time where he wasn’t grinning like a goof or laughing at something either he or Jared had said.

In classes you shared, sure, he took notes. But at the same time he was drawing stupid little figures into the margins of his lined paper.

Not that you took notice of them that much. Just those days he sat close enough that you caught a glimpse. You hated those days.

The way he seemed to care less and less made you so… mad? Like he shouldn’t even be in these classes. This school even. Why you cared about his studies or lack thereof was completely questionable to you.

But regardless, the nights where Louise begged you to go out with her and Jared were hard. You wanted to study, she told you there was still two weeks until the paper was due and practically dragged you out of the apartment.

And each time it of course wasn’t just you two. Nope. Aaron was there. And sure, you should have been less stiff. Been able to let go, drink a few drinks, dance even. But all you could think of was that you weren’t home studying.

Which was apparently noticeable by everyone around you. “Seriously, y/n, you need to take a break. I don’t think I have ever seen you just… be.” Louise had a large smile on her face, cheeks tinted red from the warmth and alcohol in her system. And her words were lighthearted.

She wanted you to have a good time. To not be bound down because of your studies. Louise knew you were only this hard on yourself because you were the oldest of three, an oldest daughter at that and you knew you had to succeed.

She knew.

But she also knew that you needed to breathe. Find a way to be yourself in ways you wouldn’t let yourself. Which was evident with the shake of your head, “Lou, really, it’s bad enough I’m out right now instead of starting my essay for Korofsky’s class. The last thing I need is to get distracted.”

He was your harshest teacher and you were constantly terrified he’d write off your work and down play what you got.

It wouldn’t surprise you. He always half offed the girls grades in class. How the hell did Aaron fucking Hotchner get a near perfect score on his probably half assed paper but you got a near ten points less?

You slept a total of five hours in the three nights it took you to write that. But he got a better score. Maybe that’s what ticked you off about the boy.

He didn’t try. And apparently didn’t have to try like you did. And it got right up under your skin. Especially now, you needed to be home, writing and you knew that’s where you’d rather be.

But he was out in the middle of the dance floor, probably three beers deep with Jared who was half dancing, half waiting for his girlfriend to join him.

“Oh come on y/n/n. It’s one night.”

“A lot of stuff happens in one night. Seriously, you go dance. I’m good right here.” You said glancing around for any chance you could get to run off. Any chance.

There didn’t seem to be one for a while after Louise ran off, her eyes going over to you too much to make a smooth getaway.

And that dwindled when the Bain of your existence came up next to you, “why aren’t you out there?” Aaron questioned, out of breath with bright red cheeks. He leaned on the table, hoping it would give enough leverage that he could catch his breath.

You gave him the cold shoulder, not responding. Not unusual. He noted the way you ignored his existence quickly. Did he have any idea why you hated him? Nope. Not a clue. But he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make him want to bother you more.

He liked annoying you, hoping at some point you’d crack and decide that he wasn’t a horrible person. Because he wasn’t. He was just following his fathers footsteps. Which you didn’t know but that didn’t matter to either of you.

“Oh come on, you’re gonna ignore me now too? This isn’t karofsky’s class where I’m asking for your notes.” He sighed, looking over at you, giving you an expectant smile when you looked back.

Slightly you sighed, sipping the virgin Shirley temple you had in front of you, “I don’t want to be out there.” You gave in a monotone voice. Clearly wanting both him to go away and not talk to you.

Ever.

“Why not? They have some pretty good music-“

“I just don’t.” Your voice came out snappier than intended but the constant harassment of why you didn’t want to be out was just added to the annoyance of said instance.

Somehow Aaron seemed to understand that, nodding, “Alright. If you want help sneaking out, I can help.” His offer genuinely surprised you.

You looked him over, he was a college boy so you felt like you should be weary, but he was also friends with Jared who was nice enough for you to trust who he kept company with.

Even with the slight hesitation you nodded, “Would you?” He nodded instantly. Unbeknownst to you he was all for secrets and assisting in them.

“Course, come on. I’ll tell them you felt sick, walked you home.” He held his arm out to you which you took, shockingly, before walking out with him.

Whether Louise and/or Jared noticed didn’t even matter, you seemed perfectly okay walking out of the small bar with the kid you swore up and down you hated and it wasn’t that horrible.

That’s when things shifted. You had formed some sort of alliance with him. He acted like he wanted nothing to do with you so Jared would have a reason to tell Louise not to invite you out more. Which she hated and did anyway but when you said the same thing back to her she bit her cheek and dropped it.

It was like a magical form of detestment. Except now you wanted to be around him. You didn’t put those thoughts over your work. Never ever. But when you went to class you didn’t mind if you ‘had’ to sit next to him.

He didn’t seem to mind either. Especially not when you were the quiet one that had all your note taking stuff ready in front of you before class started and he got to just go off about some stupid shit Jared did that morning.

A lot of the time you wanted to tell him to shut up, but truthfully you did happen to half smile at his words sometimes. And it was like he was chasing that. Like he wanted to see it.

And maybe he did.

But he’d never admit that. Not even on his death bed. Because he was nearly sure you were still indifferent to him. Which you weren’t.

Lots of miscommunication and misunderstanding going on but neither of you were brave enough to confront it and set things straight.

It wasn’t like you had given up on school, that was still your focus and 9/10 you were truly nose deep in your work or a text book for whatever class it was that kept you away from everyone.

Near the end of the year it was worse. The last couple of months were hell. Your eyes burned more easily. Words blurred together on the paper and the library was practically your first home. Not even second. First.

You’d leave there later than anyone, which was admittedly creepy (you were convinced it was haunted), but you still did it anyway. Getting there after your last class of the day and just pouring every remaining brain cell into the papers and homework that were due.

It was tiring. Exhausting. The amount of times your hand cramped up from the fast paced cursive you wrote out couldn’t be counted on your fingers and your knee bounced with every second you had to reread a line.

Because that didn’t say that did it? Oh it did… no it didn’t.

You really couldn’t make out this last chapter for the semester, none of the words making any goddamn sense and it was making you so frustrated you wanted to cry.

There was a throbbing in your temple that was working its way across your forehead and it really felt like your brain was going to explode. Could that happen? Who cares, that’s what it felt like.

Honestly, your presence at the library was very noticed. If not by the librarians then the other students that also frequented. Can you guess who one of those students would be?

Aaron. He noticed because everyday he’d sit at least an hour to catch up on notes he’d missed in class thanks to whoever was kind enough to give him the in between stuff and each time he managed to find you.

It helped that you had a designated spot. Honorary of course. You liked being in the corner, against the far wall. Sure you used one of the bigger tables but it was never clear. Always covered with something. A text book. Notebooks. Loose papers. Everything or a mix of it.

Regardless it made it rather easy to spot you. The highlighter colored jacket you wore quite often brought his eyes over to you easily, plenty of times.

A part of him thought he should stay where he was at but he just couldn’t ignore you. “Do you ever go home?” He asked as he sat across from you.

No wait for an invitation, just… sat. You looked up at him without lifting your head.

“Do you ever study?” Your voice tight. “Yes, now leave me alone.” You sighed, stressed enough as is, that you couldn’t focus on the words on the paper. Of course he didn’t listen, because why would he?

Instead he just stayed across, crossing his arms on the table and looking over at what exactly you were reading. “What class is that for?” He tried to question, a groan of annoyance leaving your mouth.

“Do you know what leave me alone means?” You asked, finally looking at him. He scrunched his nose up, his eye doing the same as he hummed.

“Mmm, not entirely. Come on, you never take a break… that’s gotta get tiring,” He continued, eyes on you fully.

It slightly burned that he was just staring, trying to ignore the way it made you slightly self conscious. “I don’t want to take a break. Can you just-“

“Leave you alone, yeah yeah, heard that before.” He said, “How about instead of interrogating you, I ask how your studying is going?” He shifted, you biting your cheek.

“Admittedly not great.” You confessed for some reason, subconsciously craving some sort of buffer before returning to work as you sighed, “I’m trying to focus and it isn’t happening. You’re really not helping either.”

Aaron smiled, “Well if it already wasn’t going great then how much worse would I be making it?” He offered with a chuckle, tilting his head.

You wanted to argue his words but, he sadly had somewhat of a point. “Oh shut up. I’m serious.” You ended up spilling how and why you had truthfully hit a block that was practically killing you.

“Would it help if someone read it to you? Take notes from that?” He asked and for a second you thought it was a stupid question. But honestly, it could help.

You shrugged, “Maybe? But it’s not like there’s an audio version of this just laying around.” You muttered, trying to focus on again as Aaron laughed lightly.

“Well I was going to offer to read it myself but you seem to be very well off on your own so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait.” You cut him off, grabbing his hand as he went to stand and leave. “It’s worth a try. I really need to go over this tonight.” You felt crazy asking, even crazier for the fact that you’re hand stayed where it was the entirety of the time you spoke and as he sat back down in the chair.

Quickly you pulled it back, turning the text book to him. “I’m here but honestly, I don’t know what the hell the first couple pages were so…”

You trailed off but he nodded, flipping to the opening page. “No worries, I’ll start from the beginning.” He replied casually, like he genuinely didn’t mind that he was here, helping.

His voice was all you focused on as he read word for word, line by line through every last page. It truthfully was helping immensely that you could tell him to stop and he would, elaborating when needed.

It was nice.

But you’d never admit that. You kept the straight line of your lips on your face and no other emotion behind your eyes. You were in school for a serious degree that you were serious about getting.

There was no need to mess around and get comfortable with a boy. At all. (But you wanted to.)

Instead of acting on anything you just let him read, unaware of how his eyes went over every once in a while, adoring the way your hair slipped over your shoulder. A chuckle leaving his lips when you told him to pause so you could tie back said hair.

By the end you had a pretty solid few pages of notes and a satisfied Aaron.

“Honestly, I think I understood more by reading that out loud than I ever have by reading it to myself.” He admitted, closing the book and slipping it over to your pile that was admittedly messy.

You started putting away everything, glancing at him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can make this a thing. I read, you write, I… copy the notes you take so I have a more digestible version?” He offered and you wanted to say no.

Being with him as is was enough. But it helped a lot. And it helped him. God why did you care that it helped him too? You sighed, tightening the ponytail that had been made an hour ago, nodding.

“How do you do it?” You asked, his look of confusion making you take in a breath. “You’re always laughing. Or goofing off. I hardly ever even see you take notes in class. This is a serious job we’re going into and you’re just… not. How do you do it?”

Aaron hesitated before shrugging faintly, “I don’t know, it’s just how I am I guess..” He trailed off, watching for your reaction and for an inevitable answer to his offer.

“Alright, we can do this again.” Your voice tight. Hiding… something behind it that he took note of, too tired to try and go into it today, well, tonight. It was technically tomorrow now since it was 1am.

Aaron smiled, standing, “I’ll walk you to your apartment.”

“Your apartment is on the opposite side of campus. I’ll be fine.” You brushed off his statement, his dark brown eyes immediately darkening.

“Y/n, it’s almost 1:30 in the morning and from here your apartment is on the opposite side of campus and then some. I’m walking you.” His words left no room for disagreement and truthfully you’d never seen him sound as serious as he just did.

There was always some sort of goofiness or joke behind his tone. But this? You simply nodded at him, deciding to not argue and just go with it. He’d be the one walking back and forth. Not your problem.

“Fine.” You muttered, finally zipping the backpack you brought with you up and lugging it onto your back. The weight of it did nothing but make your body ache but you had to carry it all so you learned to ignore it.

Aaron glanced at you, “you want me to carry that?” His voice back to being lighthearted as he gestured to the bag.

“I got it.” You said with a shake of your head, immediately feeling a bit guilty at how harsh that had come out so you glanced back at him, “thank you though.” A shift in your tone.

Maybe you were starting to not hate him as much as you thought you did.

—

“Y/n, are you listening to me?” Louise looked over at you, your nose in a book that was shockingly, not actually school related. It instead was just a pleasure read and you were trying to be content with that.

She wasn’t of course, “Oh come on. That’s not even for school and you’re still focused more on that than the fact I’m trying to plan you a birthday party?” Her weight was next to you in your bed in seconds, no sense of personal space known to her.

You sighed, tucking the small bookmark into the book and putting it on the bedside table. “Lou, I have told you like, a million and one times. I don’t want a birthday party. It’s not like it’s a milestone-”

“25 most definitely is a milestone. You have one year left at this school before you’re officially off, being whatever lawyer you’re going to be. This is my last year here. So therefore. Milestone. Now. I’m thinking we just do something at that bar we went to across town.” Louise rambled off, her legs crossing.

You pursed your lips, deciding to just give into her vision. “Okay, okay. So are you like, wanting ideas? Or?” You questioned, leaning back on your bed a bit to finally stretch some from where you were.

“Yes! Yes please. I know you like The Addams family and Halloween and it’s very out of season to do but would you want to do a costume party?” Her question made your eyebrows raise. How she even knew that you had no idea.

It wasn’t like you were loud and proud about your likeness of the spooky season or the movie, aside from the fact you went and saw it three times when it came out. “That… would actually be really, really, cool.” You admitted,

“And before you ask, you can be Morticia, I know you’ve been dying to be her for halloween.” You didn’t even have to think as you spoke, you did love the movie but if you were going to dress up as anything it was going to be something completely different than what she would be thinking.

Louise’s eyes widened, “Oh I love you so much, okay, I’m gonna start planning everything, don’t worry.” She leaned forward to hug you tightly, practically snapping your back before she hopped up, already having a thousand ideas in her mind about the party.

On the same hand, you were thinking over what to be. There were two main options, pull out the Dorothy from the wizard of Oz dress from a couple years ago or look for a Princess Leia outfit. Considering you were recently back into Star Wars the latter won and you were hoping to god you could find something to wear.

—

The weekend of the party got here quickly. Quicker than you’d like but truthfully it didn’t matter much since you had already gotten all the pieces necessary for your costume, now just sitting in front of your mirror attempting to perfect the hairstyle Leia wore with it.

Different than the usual side buns since you opted for the more conservative outfit from Return of the Jedi. Meaning a nice braided crown was all you needed and was majorly simple in comparison to keeping the two buns even or stopping them from drooping. All would’ve been roadblockers.

“Are you ready?” Louise’s voice called out, poking her head through the door. “Oh god, you are such a dork.” A small smile on her face. She’d already seen both Jared and Aaron’s costumes and was ready to leave.

You stood, turning, “Yeah, yeah, but does it look okay?” You questioned, worryful that it would look weird on you. Louise had seen the movies but she wasn’t as into them as you were. She came in, stepping around you.

“Amazing, come on. The boys are waiting.” She pulled your arm, taking you from the room and the two boys were in the living room.

Jared of course was matching with Louise, a nice suit that looked like Gomez’ and his hair slicked back. It was fitting. Very nice.

You froze as you looked at Aaron, “Oh you’re kidding..” You muttered, looking over his brown pants, beige long sleeved shirt and dark blue vest down to the leg harness and fake gun that mirrored yours in it. “Han Solo?”

“Princess Leia.” He copied your questionable tone as you sighed, your eyes closing momentarily before you nodded. “Nice.” He didn’t mind (accidentally) matching the birthday girl, but the other two took note of the way your face went pink.

People would think it was on purpose. Everyone around was aware of that and apparently you were the only one that cared. “I’m going to change, I still have my Dorothy costume-”

“No! Y/n/n we are already late for your own party. You look amazing, who cares if you match Aaron? It’s cute. Now let's go.” She didn’t even give you time to head back into your room before she gripped your wrist and pulled you out the door.

The boys were right behind you and you couldn’t deny that you were aware of Aaron’s eyes on you. Because of course they were. The costumes were making his confidence grow, aside from the same degree, he wasn’t sure you had anything in common really aside from the friends you both kept.

But now? You liked Star Wars, he loved Star Wars. You knew enough of the movies to pick the least popular outfit from the trilogy and it honestly made his heart race. Just the thought of bringing the conversation up.

He never knew what to talk about around you. All he could muster was laws and some criminology he learned from the criminal justice class he took. By the time you made it to the bar together, he had about three different topics he wanted to go on and on about.

A small chorus of cheers, mainly from Louise’s friends rather than people you actually knew greeted you and the party was on. You allowed yourself two drinks. Two. That was it. Alcohol wise anyway.

“Hey,” Aaron’s voice should have caught you off guard but considering he was one of maybe four people you actually knew here, two of which were already off sucking face somewhere, it didn’t. And you could tell at some point he’d show up.

How could he not? “Hi.” You were used to being around him now, the coldness you usually put off to him had dwindled to just a slight breeze if anything at all. Especially since he’d become your official book reader.

A smile was already on his lips but it grew when he realized you were past the ‘hating his guts’ phase, “Nice costume,” He of course started, your eyes lifting to his. There was a layer of teasing to his words. Aaron was well aware that you didn’t like the implications that an accidental matching costume had. Especially not a stereotypical couples costume.

“Right.”

“Maybe we should have discussed what we were going to wear more, huh,” He chuckled, sipping the beer he’d already gotten. You couldn’t judge that choice, you already had a dirty shirley in front of you as well.

A small hint of a smile attempting to grace your face but you pushed it away as you nodded, “Yeah, maybe.” You muttered, picking a cherry from your drink and eating it. Absent-mindedly you put the stem in your mouth, twisting it with your tongue into a knot and putting it on the napkin in front of you.

Aaron gaped at you, his eyes glancing from your face down to the stem before he nodded, “Next time…” He trailed off before clearing his throat and forcing himself to walk away from you. That was unusual. He never was the first one to stop the conversation, he always bothered you until you told him to go away.

Your eyes traveled to the stem, eyes widening. Oh. That… that made sense. The whole bar trick thing. You hadn’t even thought about that when you did it but now your face was probably the color of said cherry and you wanted to hide in the corner.

Eventually though, the instance fell to the back of your mind as you let yourself have a good time. The two drink rule also fell off, now having had about four, only the first had actually been picked by you, the others from various guests that were there.

And being the people pleaser that you were, you drank them.

Louise had found her way back out to the dance floor, happy to be singing along to the songs on the speakers with you, everything was going perfect. The night was perfect. As it hit midnight, the actual day you were born, you decided to start sobering up, you didn’t want to be a mess the next morning, day off or not.

Your friend of course gave you a pout, her own self completely wasted, Jared less so, meaning he had a good eye on her as they moved throughout the place. Your only other friend was a girl from your art class, Kendall, that was as introverted as you were.

Granted her was from anxiety, yours was from needing to be good in school, which… could be labeled as anxiety as well but you refused to see it as that. “Hey, y/n! Happy birthday!” She immediately perked up at seeing you, in her Orange Blossom costume from strawberry shortcake.

“Hey! Thanks, Kendall, I love this costume. Did you hand stitch this?” Your eyes widening at the level of detail that was in the yellow and orange dress that hung on her body. Sheepishly she nodded, a tad bit embarrassed.

“I did..”

“It looks amazing, I’m truthfully jealous of your talent. I can barely fold my clothes correctly, nevermind customize them. This is insane.” You complimented thoroughly, once again taking a look at the stitched in white flowers.

Kendall grinned, “Thank you, I honestly made this a couple years ago for a party that never ended up happening so I’m very glad that you and Louise ended up making this a costume party.” She smiled, looking over your costume. “I hope I don’t sound silly but, what’s your costume meant to be?”

She’d never seen Star Wars so the question was expected. “Princess Leia, in one of the other movies.” Kendall made an ‘oh’ face as she nodded, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Wait, isn’t there someone here as Han Solo? Was that planned?” Kendall asked the cursed question, making you sigh heavily.

You shook your head, “No, that’s Lou’s boyfriend’s roommate, a pain in my ass but no, not planned. Just… small coincidence.” You slightly trailed off as you spoke. Kendall nodded, noting the way you shifted on your feet.

“Well, I’m probably going to head out. I have to be up early tomorrow. Have a good birthday y/n.” She smiled before leaving you standing there as a slow song came over the speakers. You of course moved out of everyone’s way as they split into couples, swaying to the song on the dancefloor.

Your heart practically dropped when you saw Aaron coming in your direction. Was he going to do what you thought he was going to do? God you hoped not… sort of. Part of you wanted him to, your thoughts about this man were everywhere and then some.

All of you wanted to still dislike him but he’d weaseled in and now you had to fake your distaste to hide the fact you actually liked having him around. Liked that he was smiling as he came up to you and held his hand out.

You liked that he gently clasped his hand around yours when you took his and pulled you out with him. You liked all of it and you hated that you did. Hated that you were melting at the smell of his cologne and aftershave.

Absolutely hated that his hands just resting on your hips and your arms over his shoulders was making your head dizzy even though you were just barely swaying. The worst part? It didn’t feel awkward. Not for you at least.

No, it felt like you were supposed to be doing exactly what you were doing, no words needed. It was natural. Absentmindedly you slid your fingers through the hair just at the base of his neck, the hair framing his face a bit messy but still attractive.

Did you just think he was attractive? God this was getting bad, even for you. To tear your eyes away from him you leaned your head against his shoulder, whether that made things better or worse was undetermined but you stayed like that the rest of the song, his thumb slightly rubbing circles into your hip as he stayed near you.

The song switched to a more upbeat one and you almost didn’t want to pull away. Almost. Instead you did, letting out a tight breath as you looked up at him. “That was nice.” You mumbled, still standing in front of him, trying to keep your eyes on his eyes, or hair, or anything that wasn’t his lips.

Something had festered in between the two of you in that moment and you felt suffocated. Like you should do something but you weren’t sure what. “It was.” He said in return, his tone the same as he tried to keep his eyes up too.

To solve both of your problems you turned heel and walked away, no goodbye just a rushed, near jog towards the door. You were panicking. Boys were not supposed to be on the table. This was one of the most important years of your life. You couldn’t waste it on a boy. Waste any time on something that wasn’t your work.

Aaron seemed to notice how tense you seemed, following behind you. If you had just disappeared into the crowd he would have left you. But running outside? Alone? He was protective, always had been. Even when you hated him.

So he jogged after you, “Y/n! Hey wait,” He caught up with you quickly. Curse his long legs and your short ones. “Please,” He gripped your elbow, stopping you in your place as you turned to him.

Correction, turned into him, your body hit his chest gently, his other hand lightly holding your side as he stabilized you, his eyes darting across yours. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low, soft even as he spoke.

You felt like he could hear the sound of your heart picking up in your chest. You were. But you weren’t. You’d be better if you weren’t fighting every urge known to man to not lift up and kiss him. To not look at him with your y/e/c eyes until he kisses you.

And you sure as hell didn’t trust your voice right now. It could waver, stutter, multitudes of other things. So you just nodded, clearing your throat to let out a quiet, “Yeah.” In response that he didn’t believe.

“People that are okay don’t run out of their own birthday parties.” He countered, your eyes falling shut in defeat. He wasn’t wrong. But you wished he was. You stepped back, his hands hesitantly sliding off of you, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Aaron watched you, waiting for a sign that you were going to continue or that he should make some sort of first move. “I can’t do this.”

“What exactly is ‘this’?”

“This. I can see how you’re looking at me. I can feel how much I want to do what we’re both thinking but I can’t. Not now. I need- I need to focus on school. My parents are expecting me to graduate next year. I can’t… be distracted-”

Aaron had to comment, “So you are distracted by me.” He spoke, the glare you sent him making him shut up. “Why can’t you have both? Am I really that distracting to you?” This time his voice was more genuine.

As if he couldn’t fathom that you could really think about him more than you thought about your school work. Which you didn’t and wouldn’t but in the last three-ish months he was on your mind a tad bit more than you’d like to admit.

“Yes. Yes you are and god Aaron I hate it. I hate this, you, what I’m feeling. They… they weren’t supposed to happen. They can’t.” It was like you were trying to convince yourself more than him. Every part of you wanted to try, to see if you could do it.

The way he stepped forward, cupping your cheeks in both of his hands didn’t help. Neither did the way he lifted your face to meet his. “We can try.” He said softly, trying to get you on board as his thumb slid over the smooth skin of your cheek.

You slightly shook your head, his nodding in return as he leaned down, putting his forehead against yours. “If Han and Leia can have a thing amidst a war, we can in college.” He offered, a lopsided grin growing on his face.

“You know we’re not actually Han and Leia, right?” You said, an actual tone of a joke in your voice that Aaron was still getting used to hearing from you. He nodded, of course he knew. But he also knew that he wanted to kiss you anyway.

So he did. Slowly he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. Because at least if you shoved him off and decided you never wanted to see him again, at least he’d know what it felt like. What you felt like. Except that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

You immediately relaxed into his touch, your hands coming up to rest over his as your lips moved with one another's. It was like a ball of energy was forming between you that was stealing every bit of space left.

His chest pressed against yours, his hands still on your face as your hands slid up his arms and over his shoulders.

You stepped back with him, leaning against the brick wall of whatever building was behind you, arms locking over his shoulders. If you’d been at one or the other’s place, you were sure it would have gone further but since you were practically ten feet from a bar of all your friends, you pulled back, eyes darting across his face.

“We can’t.” You forced out, knowing it was tearing you apart to say that, knowing the way his shoulders and hands fell that you’d just tore him apart. And you hated it, but it had to be done. You couldn’t do this.

You wouldn’t.

—

Summer was supposed to be downtime. Your family loved going out to Newport and being out on the beach everyday. out on the beach everyday. Swimming. All that cool New England fun.

You were never the type. You hated the ocean. Ironic considering the fact that Rhode Island is the ocean state but you just never had fun.

Sand got into every small crevice of your body, the waves literally tried to drown you. Not to mention the way no matter how much sunscreen you put on, your cheeks and shoulders burnt.

It wasn’t fun.

But you went for your siblings. Because they liked it and you liked that they did. Your parents wouldn’t go into the water with them. Half the time they wouldn’t even acknowledge that the three of you existed.

So you took that spot. Watching your younger sister (now 21) do her backflips while your brother (now 19) held his breath until he couldn’t. It was your own type of fun.

Fun because you were with your family, not fun because you were at the beach.

Your favorite part wasn’t being out. It was the aftermath. After you showered and ate and were just sitting in your living room with whatever movie was picked that day on the VCR.

Your sister chose Casablanca and you didn’t put up any argument, knowing you’d be passed out and unconscious not even twenty minutes into the film.

Which is exactly what happened. You tucked yourself into the corner of the couch and were passed out before the clock even hit 10. There was always a sense of calm and comfort when it was the three of you.

Something that you rarely ever got when you were away. It made you kind of guilty that sometimes you thought of not coming back. Of staying down in DC and focusing on yourself rather than the lingering words and expectations of your parents.

But you couldn’t do that to them. Leave them with the lingering and watchful eyes of your mom and dad. It wouldn’t be fair. Not when you were walking in your parent’s dreams so they didn’t have to. So your sister could go off and be an author. So your brother could become a mechanic. So they didn’t have to bear the weight.

So you visited on holidays, on vacations, birthdays if you could. All of it, so your parents would have something, someone to be so overly proud of that they didn’t have to force their views anywhere else.

They had it all right there.

Even if the drive back down to the campus was 50% tears, it was worth it. Everything you did for them was worth it.

The three and a half months off of school had distracted you from everything of the last months on campus. From Aaron in general but also the way he’d kissed you. Nevermind the fact that the second you walked away from him you wanted to go back and kiss him again.

But no. This was your last year. You were focused. Or at least you planned to be. And it went well. Louise still lived in the apartment you two shared, even if she wasn’t in school anymore but she worked… a lot so she was never there. Which meant the place was yours to study and hermit in.

It made hitting the books way easier, and the fact that so far you hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Aaron Hotchner was another sign that maybe this year was going to be better. Way better. No seriously, the first four months of being back were perfect, you got near perfect scores and grades, no distractions, nothing.

Until you did see him. And everything came back. Seeing him walking across campus made you nearly drop the book in your hands. It didn’t help that your eyes followed his arm down to his hand that was clasped into that of another girl.

It shouldn’t bother you. There was nothing there. You made sure of that. That was your doing so you couldn’t be mad. Or jealous. Or anything. So you went the other way, as always avoiding any problems you might possibly end up having.

Unbeknownst to you, he saw you too, instantly feeling guilt build in his stomach at the feeling of the red head’s hand in his when he didn’t want it to be her. He wanted it to be you. But he respected you too much to push you.

Aaron was aware that he was your last priority and that he was going to have to get over it and step back. Nothing but respect for you. He also decided that he would try and stick to his own guns.

Your words last year had stuck with him. He was passing sure but he wanted to do better. To be better so he did what you would do. Locked in, focused, but he of course wouldn’t go without talking to girls.

He couldn’t do that, to the girl he walked with that day, whose name had slipped his mind the second he saw you was his emotional distraction. Which should be good for the both of you. Hopefully.

—

It was late. Like, later than late and you couldn’t sleep. Whether it was stress. It being a Friday night meaning you were alone or what. You could not fall asleep. So you got up, pulled shoes and a sweater on before heading out.

There was practically nobody around, most students either in for the night, or downtown getting sloshed. Louise and Jared were the latter, probably with Aaron. You sighed, of course there would be a way for him to come up in your mind. And like he could read your thoughts, he practically appeared next to you.

In reality he came out of the library, his eyes immediately finding you and jogging to catch up with you. “Y/n? Why are you out so late? It’s a Friday, shouldn't you be sacrificing an animal to the law degree gods or something?”

Even with his ‘I’m going to be more serious’ mentality, he couldn’t help but relax when it came to you, the admittedly half assed joke making him grin. In turn a small one formed on your face, something you still weren’t used to.

How could he bring that look to your face when nobody else could? Louise tried but it took a lot. But with Aaron just him being him did it. “Couldn’t sleep.” You shrugged, continuing on. You knew telling him to go home was no use, if it was dark and you were alone, he’d find a way to stay with you.

“Right, so, going for a walk around campus was your idea of what? Getting tired?” He questioned, chuckling when you gently elbowed him.

“Don’t make fun of my ideas, I think they’re very swell.” You countered, him humming in response. The way you two bounced off of one another was so disgustingly natural you hated it. All you had to do was look at him to feel your cheeks burn, he was already watching you.

The slight and quick eye contact made your stomach flip as Aaron nudged you, “Not poking fun, just trying to understand.” He corrected. “If you’re going to walk around, at least be somewhere cool. C’mon.”

He held his hand out and you wanted to ignore it. Wanted to laugh in his face at the thought of walking with him hand in hand but you took it instead. His hand enveloping yours in difference as you silently walked off campus and down one of the roads that led from it.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice soft, no malice or accusatory tone to it.

“You’ll see.” Aaron replied, lightly squeezing your hand. And for a minute you forgot this isn’t what this was supposed to be. Forgot that you had sworn yourself off of him, of boys in general. That you weren’t meant to be holding his hand and walking the streets of DC.

But he just made it so easy, he was so welcoming. So casual. Like he had no ulterior motive to anything but he was savoring the moments you’d let him have. The fact that you let him walk next to you. You let him grab your hand. You let him feel what he felt even if he knew that you weren’t going to give in.

Aaron held out hope that you would. Eventually.

The park just down the road came up only fifteen minutes later. The longest fifteen minutes of your life, trying to keep your breathing even, both from the close proximity and the walking itself.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, the two of you entering the park and walking along one of the paths that lead to the water.

You nodded, glancing over at him, “Yeah, I’m alright,” you replied in the same tone, lingering on him before you forced your eyes away.

There honestly should have been something in you that reminded you that he was just with that other girl a few weeks ago, but his presence now was just so strong that it didn’t even cross your mind.

All that mattered now was his hand in yours and how he was walking perfectly in step with you regardless of the height difference. The way he had a faint smile on his face without even looking at you.

That was all you focused on.

“Wanna sit here?” His voice cut into your thoughts, gesturing next to a tree right on the edge of the water. There was a perfect patch of flat ground where you two could sit so you nodded, following him right into the dirt.

Both of you faced the river, backs hunched in terrible posture but neither of you really cared. “I’m sorry I ran off.” You spoke up after a few minutes, Aaron glancing over at you. “It was… childish. You didn’t deserve that.”

His hand was still in yours, his thumb beginning to stroke over the top of yours. “It’s okay. Hurt. But it’s okay.” Aaron replied, giving you the softest brown eyed gaze you’d ever seen.

If you weren’t already head over heels for him, this would have made all of those feelings show up magically. “I still don’t know what I want.”

“That’s okay too.”

The quickness in his response, the sense of security it gave you, it made you sigh softly, “Is it?” You muttered, pulling your hand from his in fear he’d do it first.

Aaron went to speak but you shook your head, “I don’t like feeling like this. I don’t like… you waiting around for me to finally be ‘ready’. What if I never am?” Slight panic layering into your voice.

“Y/n, listen to me.” He leaned forward to catch your eyes, giving a small smile, “I’ll wait for you. Always. I want to.” And that should have been enough.

That should have made you feel better but it didn’t. Though in an attempt to avoid the rest of the conversation, you laid back in the dirt, looking up into the leaves above you.

He mimicked you, lying just to your left in silence. It also didn’t feel weird, forced even. Still it just felt natural. His hand going back to yours felt natural. All of it did. Because why wouldn’t it…

“Why’d you choose law?” Aaron asked after a bit of silence, turning his head to you.

A light scoff at the way it was worded was what he got in response, “Choose is a bit of a stretch.” You murmured, rolling your tongue across your cheek. “That would equate to there being a second option.” You added.

His eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head more, “You didn’t want to come here?”

“Well, I did. But not at the same time?” Your words confusing not only him but you yourself. “I knew it’s what my parents wanted. So it became what I wanted. You know?”

Aaron nodded slightly, “In a way. I mean I’m here because it’s a family thing. But I know it’s what’s right. I wanted it.”

“A family thing?”

“Yeah, my dad was a lawyer. And my grandfather. My little brother is probably going to be too… family thing.” He sighed, looking back up.

You slightly lifted onto your elbow, “Is that why you weren’t as serious the last couple years?” You asked, Aaron shrugging in response.

There wasn’t really a solid reason that he was so lighthearted. It was just how he was. “I guess. But, I’m past that.”

“Yeah I can tell,” you said sarcastically, gesturing to where you two were right now. Aaron laughed fully, nodding.

“Okay, point taken. But I’m serious, I’m focusing on school more this year, my last year and I want to just… get it done.” He explained, watching as you lifted onto your elbow to look at him.

His eyes traveled across your face, his lips pursing as you looked down at him, “don’t look at me like that.” He muttered, eyes on yours.

“Like what?” Your eyebrows pulled together, there wasn’t anything specific about how you were looking at him. You just … were looking.

Aaron slightly shook his head, “Like that,” he gestured at you, “like you understand and that you get it because, it’s making it really hard to respect the fact you don’t want to kiss me again.” He sighed out softly.

You immediately bit back a smile, laying back down, “apologies.” You said softly, inching your hand closer to his, your pinky outstretched.

His looped around yours in response and you allowed yourself to smile this time, shivering slightly. “Are you cold?” He immediately asked, already taking the hoodie he had on, off and putting it around you before you even replied.

“I didn’t even answer you.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You looked over at him, shifting slightly closer to rest your head against his shoulder, “what if you get cold?” You muttered, hand officially slipping into his.

“I’ll be just fine.” He replied, his head leaning against yours and you just about melted. Feeling the slight vibration of his voice as he spoke made your brain all foggy and you started to wonder if ignoring these feelings would be more distracting than just giving into them.

But you tucked that back away for the night, the two of you ending up falling asleep right there, his hoodie the only source of warmth until he pulled you to him, your bodies making up for the lack of heat around you.

That morning you were gone before he even woke up, the sun rising having stirred you from your sleep and shining directly on what was wrong with what you were doing out there.

His hoodie was still over your shoulders as you practically ran back to your apartment. Truthfully you didn’t even notice until you caught sight of it in the mirror by the entrance and it made your heart pound. Now you had to see him again.

Not that you didn’t want to. He was literally eating away at your brain. If you weren’t thinking about school, it was about him.

If he wasn’t thinking about school, he was thinking about you. It was a very balanced experience. And you could live with it.

Until you failed a test because you were sitting two seats away from him and the smell of his cologne was wafting right to your nose.

That was when you decided you had to do something about this. Anything.

—

Which apparently meant actively avoiding him at every turn and step. He came out of a building, you took the long way around to go in.

He was sitting in the back of class, suddenly you were okay with sitting in the front row. You stopped asking him to meet up at the library, not wanting to hear his voice any more than you already did.

It worked tremendously. Eventually you could find yourself actually focusing on classes again. Your grade sailing.

It was short lived though.

“Y/n, someone’s here for youuu,” Louise sing-songed as she passed your bedroom door, trotting into her own to change for the night out she had ahead of her.

You furrowed your brows, heading out to the living room and seeing Aaron standing there. You wanted to tell him to go away but something in his eyes made you stay. He didn’t look great.

“Aaron?” You asked softly, looking over his face. As soon as you said his name his lip began to quiver, fighting off a frown.

Immediately you stepped up to him, pulling him down into a tight hug, “hey… hey… it’s okay… I got you…” you said softly, arms over his shoulder as you kept him to you, his face burying into your neck.

“I’m sorry for coming here I just- I didn’t know where else to go and Jared’s going out-“

“Aaron, breathe. It’s okay… what happened?” You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hand, the other rubbing across his shoulder with your thumb.

He sucked in a breath, shaking faintly as he did, “My dad..” he muttered, unable to even phrase the truth, your heart dropping.

“Oh Aaron…” you whispered, pulling him into another tight hug as Louise came out of her room, her eyes widening slightly at the sight in front of her.

She silently gave you a faint smile, not interrupting as she left, her own date taking precedence over all of this.

Your fingers laced through his hair as he let a soft sob out, tears now freely streaming down his face. All you could do was stand there, being someone that could comfort him.

“Why don’t you come sit down?” You offered, hesitantly pulling back in case he wasn’t ready to move.

He nodded faintly, you just now able to take in the disheveled look of him. His pajamas were wrinkled and his shirt was inside out as if he had pulled it on in a hurry to get over to you.

And maybe he had. You didn’t mind. “I’m gonna make you some tea, okay?” You offered quietly as he sat on the couch, your hand still on his arm as you spoke.

“You don’t have to-“

“I know exactly what you’re going through. I’m making you a damn tea.” You said more firmly, no room for argument as you turned to the kitchen.

The fact he came here over any of his friends made little sense to you but if it made him feel better the least you could do was help him.

In five minutes you’d made two cups of tea and brought them out. “I made a green and a chamomile. I don’t know which you want so you can choose.” You offered as you sat next to him, both mugs placed on coasters.

Aaron grabbed the chamomile, immediately sipping it. “Thank you.” His voice stuffy from the crying he’d done, a weight pulling at your chest.

“Of course.” You gave him a reassuring smile, knowing there wasn’t really much else you could do for him.

He was silent and you followed suit, letting him manage how he wanted this all to go. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

“You said you know what I’m going through,” he started, seeing you nod, “but Jared said you go up to your parents house in Rhode Island for vacation?”

You sipped the other tea, “Yeah, they’re uh, my adoptive parents. They adopted me when I was 15.” You clarified, Aaron nodding faintly in response.

“Oh.” He paused, “Sorry if that was-“

“Don’t you dare apologize right now, really,” your voice gentle. “I get it.” He faintly shifted, putting the mug back down as he looked at you.

“Sorry, I mean- okay..” he stuttered slightly, a chuckle coming from you.

“You should stay.” You suddenly said, the thought coming to your mind and immediately being said, no filter between the instances.

Aaron looked over quickly, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He sighed out, his eyes red around the brim, your heart aching at the sight.

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And I mean it. Stay. Plus I’m pretty sure Louise and Jared are going to go back to your place so really, you’re better off here anyway.” The small smile you gave him was all it took for him to agree, glancing around at the couch.

It wasn’t that outlandish of an offer, your parents had raised you to be caring and empathetic, meaning you instantly turned down the fact he thought you’d make him sleep out on the couch. “You can take my bed, I probably won’t sleep anyway. Studying and all that.” You shrugged as if the offer came as second nature.

Not that that was that far off of a statement.

“I’m not taking your bed.” Aaron muttered, you looking up at him. It felt like you were suffocating, the way your eyes met and all the feelings, emotions tight between you two.

“Fine. We’ll share then.” Knowing you weren’t kicking him out at all. Not when your instinct right now was to pull him into a tight hug and hold him there forever. Not when you wanted to card your fingers through his hair and whisper that things would be okay.

That it would hurt for a while but eventually you’d feel better. All the things you wanted to do to help the man next to you, took precedence over everything in that moment. And that was scary. But you ignored the fear and took his hand in yours.

Aaron smiled weakly, locking his fingers into yours as you stood, “Come on.” You spoke so softly, like some sort of angel singing down to him. He’d follow anything you said to him then. Anything at all. Which was a bit terrifying but you simply led him to your room, motioning to the bed.

“Get comfortable, I’m gonna put some pajamas on.” You gave him a light smile before grabbing said clothes and heading into the bathroom to change and coming out not even ten minutes later to Aaron still sitting at the end of your bed.

You slightly raised your eyebrows, looking at him, “I couldn’t lay down. Don’t make fun of me.” He said quietly, you taking the spot just to his right, one leg tucked up under you as you reached your hand out.

“Can you now?” You asked softly.

“Yes.” Aaron looked over you, in shock still that you were this open to him, that you had offered not only your apartment but your bed to him.

You nodded faintly, shifting to the top of the bed, pushing the blanket down and officially inviting him to the comfort of your mattress. It smelled like you, the entire room did. Strawberries and vanilla, the scent you’ve favored since middle school lingered on every surface and Aaron loved it.

He laid next to you, keeping space, still not knowing exactly what was allowed and what wasn’t. Was this a sign you guys were in the clear? Was it just a formality? He had no idea, so for the first time he let you lead things.

As if you could tell that was what he was waiting for, you rolled to face him, thinking over your next actions. Without much extra thought, you grabbed his hand, pulling his arm up and around your shoulder to keep him closer, your other arm slinking over his waist.

“Is this okay?” You asked quietly, Aaron nodding almost instantly, “Cause if you want to lay differently…” You trailed off as he looked down at you, only shifting to lean his forehead against the top of your head.

“This, is perfect.” He let out a sigh, his mind racing. Everything from the news of his father’s death to the way you’d finally let him in. It was a double edged sword that this is what it took. That the loss was what got him here.

The next morning was completely different to the last time you’d woken next to him. Last time you took off before the sun even cleared the sky, this time, you shifted slightly to look up at the man next to you.

The window in your room let a decent amount of sunlight in, the curtain covering it parting in just a way that a streak of sunlight hit right over his face.

He was gorgeous. If that was even a word you’d like to use for him. Regardless it’s exactly what you thought of him. Aaron Hotchner was beautiful and you were tired of acting like he wasn’t.

As if he could feel your stare, he stirred, stretching his legs as he blinked himself awake. There was still a layer of sleep in his eyes as he glanced down at you, no attempt to look away being made by you.

“Morning…” you said softly, twisting a small bit of his shirt between your thumb and index finger.

“Morning,” his voice even more attractive as he woke up, immediately making your face heat up at the thoughts that darted across your mind.

You lifted onto your elbow, looking down at him, “How’d you sleep?” You asked softly, moving your hand off of him as you did.

Aaron hummed, letting out a breath, “Better than I expected.” He said, grabbing your hand in his, wanting some form of physical connection between the two of you.

“Good, that’s good.” You said quietly, eyes trailing down your arm to where your hands were connected. “We should probably get up?”

“I’m not ready to.” Aaron said so freely, the fact he didn’t even try to hide how he was feeling made you almost giddy.

A smile came to your face, one you didn’t bother smothering. “That’s okay, right here is good too.” You replied, pulling your lip between your teeth sheepishly.

Being near him made your brain go haywire and you hated it so damn much.

But you were okay with getting used to it.

“Aaron?” You asked softly, still leaning up, over him slightly. He practically read your mind, using the clasped hands to pull you down, lifting his chin to catch your lips on his.

You couldn’t even be surprised, the look on his face before gave his intentions away as you let him pull you close, his other hand cupping the side of your face.

His finger slid into your hair, holding you closer than you ever had before.

Maybe it wasn’t the right time to do this. But he would rather be kissing you than thinking about his home life, so he acted on it.

Moving his lips with yours until you wanted to stop. Which you didn’t. So he shifted up, rolling the two of you over so he was hovering over you, pulling away slightly.

You blinked a couple times, letting out a slightly shaky breath, “is this really a good time to do all of… this?” You asked, wanting to do nothing less than all of it.

“The perfect time actually,” he murmured before kissing you again, deeper than before.

JOIN HOTCH'S TAGLIST HERE!

TAGS: nobody yet technically but these people whoop whooped so.. @pastelpinkflowerlife @p0pscenealright and @thestarrynightslover for saying they'd read it... thank you for your service

#Aaron hotchner #Aaron hotchner x reader #college era hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #x reader #y/n #teddy writes #Teddy writes criminal minds #Teddy writes Aaron hotchner #Aaron hotchner fic #Agent hotchner

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moonlightazriel · 1 year ago

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The truth about you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel knew everything about her and her family filled with criminals, or that's what he thought, what if the truth was different from what he have heard?

Warnings: Angst, fluff and a bit of smut.

Word Count: 2,9K

Notes: I think I'm slowly finding my way back into writing and it feels so good, this has been sitting on my drafts for a while but still needed to finish it, but here we are. I'm feeling better and thank you for all the patience and support.

Main Masterlist

“I have a mission for you.” These were the words that led him there, the task was simple, receive a package, and take back to the House of Wind. The problem? The package came in the form of a beautiful woman, with dark hair reaching her waistline, cunning brown eyes, and too much attitude.

She kept looking around Velaris all the way until he should fly her to the House, stating that she never saw such a beautiful place before, and would be a nice place to stay for a while. Azriel admired her figure as they walked, she was just a few inches shorter than him and her clothes were a bit too tight on her curvy body.

The stranger also smelled really nice as he pulled her closer, bringing her up and flying towards the balcony of the House of Wind, where Rhys was waiting for them. She clung to him but took the flying adrenaline incredibly well for someone wingless. He smirked at that, liking how she wasn’t afraid of falling to the city below.

Whowever, his hopes of even becoming her friend vanished as Rhysand opened his mouth, greeting her with a rather cheerful “Y/N Caidan, what a pleasure to meet you.” The only daughter of Eldar Caidan, a very wanted man on the Illyrian Steppes for numerous crimes. He felt disgusted, wanting to get as far as he could from her. That was the beginning of his torment.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She moved her hips as she walked, knowing that this drove him mad and his eyes were glued to her back as they made their way to Rhysand’s office, she could hear the annoyed huffs he let out, so used to them in the two years they’d been working together. Azriel wasn’t easy to deal with, especially with the unpleasant side he reserved especially for her.

Three knocks and Rhys shouted that they could come in, dropping the papers containing sensitive information on the dark wooden desk, she sat, legs crossed as she stretched her back, feeling her sore muscles ache from all the effort.

“As you asked Rhys, everything about those secret Illyrian reunions.” He looked at her, his eyes stopping at the fading purple marks around her eyes, behind her Azriel stood, silent as the dead.

“You two are a great duo, despite everything, thank you. You two can go and rest.” She nodded, walking out of the office and heading to her house in the town, all she could think was about the warm bath that she would take later.

“I don’t want to question your judgment, but why do you trust her, Rhys? Especially with this kind of mission.” He spoke, his throat dry as he barely used his voice in the week they’d been together on a mission.

“Because she’s good at what she does and she’s a good person.” Rhys spoke dryly, tired of this same conversation, this have been happening for the past two years without a break. Azriel had to stop the urge to roll his eyes at the answer.

“A good person that came from a family of criminals.” He knew he sounded like a whining kid but it wasn’t possible that he was the only one in his right mind that didn’t trust her, her family invaded Illyrian camps for years, murdering the females. Azriel had come to the camps a couple of times, blood everywhere, clothes sliced, and the smell of fear mixed with panic, and a scent so familiar the one lingering on her every damned time. If he closed his eyes, he could still see and smell the fresh blood. What made his blood run even colder was that they never left bodies behind, Mother knows what those monsters did with them.

“We cannot judge a child for the mistakes of their parents, can we?” It stung, cuz he knew that Rhysand was right, but he still couldn’t let his guard down around her, he knew that she was planning something, he just needed to figure it out.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How was the mission?” Morrigan asked, sipping on her glass of wine, while Y/N finished with the charcuterie board she was making for the two.

“Good, got everything that I needed, Azriel just made my life extremely difficult but I’m used to it by now.” She took a bite from a piece of cheese, took the board, and headed for the tiny balcony adorned with little lights and a great view of the Sidra, the soft summer breeze made her shiver a little but she sat down, with Mor following her closely.

“Maybe you should just tell him, I know he will understand.” She scoffed.

“Mor, are we talking about the same person? Azriel won’t understand, he won’t even listen to me. And I don’t want to share my story with him, if he doesn’t trust me, I don’t have any reasons to tell him. He can discover on his own if he wants to find the truth so bad.” Mor lifted her hands in surrender while Y/N took a long sip from her wine. “But at least I don’t mind looking at his pretty face.” Morrigan laughed.

“Don’t even tell me, the Mother took her time making that one, and I don’t even like men.” The two laughed.

“Morrigan, things got dirty and he headed to a lake to clean himself, I almost drowned in my drool as I watched the water run down those abs, he’s truly beautiful, such a shame he’s an asshole.” She gave Y/N a severe look.

“Even if I don’t agree, Azriel has been through a lot, he just doesn’t trust people easily, and with the outlaw fame your family has, he’s just waiting for the betrayal, once he sees that things aren’t always as they seem, you will see that he’s such a gentle and kind male, he has a good heart.”

“I know Mor, it’s just…. I’m tired of being judged and treated like a monster, he treats me so badly, he always questions my abilities and makes me feel like I’m less worth it, that I’m inferior to everyone.” Mor placed a warm hand on her knee.

“I’ll have another talk with him, he can hate you all he wants, but he won’t treat you like this.” Y/N smiled at her, feeling her heart warm at the thoughtful words of her best friend.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You hit like a girl.” Nesta teased and Y/N rolled her eyes, she aimed for Nesta’s right side, where she quickly went to defend but she turned the other way, hitting her left side, making the oldest Archeron gasp for air.

“Thanks!” She offered a hand to Nesta, which she gladly took, and the two headed to the water station on the other side of the ring, the sun was at its highest in the sky, making the temperature almost unbearable, only the girls were training today, so there was a lot of skin showing around that balcony.

She saw the shadows from the corner of her eyes before she saw the Shadowsinger, when she turned, he looked slightly paler, eyes wide and looking like he had seen a ghost, her skin felt uncomfortable under his gaze, still fixed on her, she quickly removed the tie from her hair, letting it fall behind her, hiding her exposed back as she darted out of the room.

“Cassian’s looking for you.” He managed to say, her smell still fresh in the air, and the image of her exposed back still replaying in his mind, two big scars marking each side of her shoulder blades, in the same place Illyrian wings should be. He turned on his heels, ready to follow after her, but Nesta stopped him.

“Azriel, don’t.” She warned him, her fingertips were cold against his skin, and he knew that he should let that go, for now.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The image of her scarred back didn’t leave his mind for days, and ever since he saw her, she’s been avoiding him, every time she sees him entering a room, her expression changes and she leaves immediately, this pissed him off a bit. But as much as he wanted to ask about it, he knew that he shouldn’t push her into answering, he would have to find it on his own.

Then, he was reminded why he didn’t trust her in the first place, as she poked her head outside Rhysand’s office, looking both sides and only stepping out when she was sure no one was around, a pile of papers clutched to her chest. A chill in his spine told him he needed to follow her and get to the bottom of his suspicions.

It was nightfall when she emerged out of her room, her leathers and weapons in place, her hair in a bun, she moved quietly, and as she passed by him, he could see that she had the reports on the northern camp that was supposed to receive new females in a few days, the papers tucked on the bag strapped around her torso. His blood ran cold as he understood what was happening.

She would take the information to her family and they would execute the females, he knew he had to stop her, but would be better if he stopped all of them at once. So he quietly followed her, for days, only stopping in an inn, she had taken a room and he was currently drinking some wine and eating the food offered there, regaining the energy to do what he had to.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N watched from the top of the stairs as her brother and cousin dragged the spymaster’s body with them, a lazy smirk on her lips as she thanked the innkeeper for helping her, a bag of gold coins dropped on the counter and she was on her way, to her family’s secret war camp.

“I’ll take care of him now.” She said as they all reached Miramaris, her family war camp. Azriel was still asleep as the males placed him in the chair, chaining him so he wouldn’t try to escape before she could explain.

Y/n watched him throughout the night, not even once looking away from him, she ran a hand through his soft hair, sighing as she stretched her part of the bond until it hit the emptiness on the other side as it hadn’t snapped for him yet. She had known he was her mate for about two months now.

A late night travel to the library, where he was also reading, it only took one look in her direction, him scoffing and getting up to leave for the bond to snap, leaving her astonished and stuck in the same place for a couple of minutes, wondering what teh hell would she do.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

His head hurt and everything felt dizzy, he didn’t recognize the room he was in, but he could tell the walls were made of stone, people walked outside and he could hear the sound of metal against metal like someone was training. His hands were restrained by chains and the was a soft light on top of his head.

The steps grew closer to his cell, the heavy door swung open and three males walked in, and behind them Y/N was smiling, approaching him.

“See that you met my family, quite nice people, don’t you think?” He scoffed.

“If you think murdering people is a nice thing, then sure, amazing people.” His tone was laced with sarcasm. He eyed Eldar and the other males with pure hatred, fighting against the chains, he tried to call for Rhysand but his mind was still too foggy to reach so far.

“He still thinks that’s what we do?” The older male asked and smiled. “Rhys will be quite disappointed that you think he would let us walk freely if we were really murdering these females.”

“Dad, let me do the talking, I’m used to the pretty frown by now.” His heart fluttered as the word pretty left her lips. “Maybe bring some food, chicken with mashed potatoes is his favorite.” Again, his heart beat faster as she spoke, does she really pay attention to him like that? Eldar nodded, patting his daughter on the head, he could see the love in the gaze he directed to her, at least he loved his daughter, he wasn’t a complete monster.

“I don’t want anything from you.” He spat, and she walked closer, lowering her body until they were facing eye to eye.

“And here I was, ready to give the only thing you’ve been wanting from me ever since we met.” He cursed as his traitorous mind wandered to where his darkest thoughts hid in his mind, the images that would come late at night when he was alone, of her, splayed open to him, soaking cunt as he readied himself to take her how he wanted, the number of times he touched himself thinking about her, he didn’t trust her in the slightest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find her attractive.

Truth be told, he still thought about her, and her body drove him mad, usually after training he would rush to his room to take a cold shower to stop his furious hormones from making him walk to her room and do all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. The fact that he was head over heels for her only angered him more.

“I grew up in a very traditional Illyrian family, but you see, my grandfather used to think that clipping wasn’t enough, removing a female’s wings was the way to go for him.” Her hands grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting above her head, the laced black bra was hard not to look at, but his throat went dry as she turned her back to him, the scars were even uglier up close and he felt his heart clenched on his chest. “ My father only had enough courage to leave when he came home one day, he found my grandfather placing a new piece of decoration in the living room.” He knew what it was, but it didn’t hurt less as the words left her mouth. “My wings, so tiny, I was just a child. From that day, he swore no female would ever go through something like that again.”

She turned to him again, shirt going back to place, as their eyes met, hers were filled with tears.

“Do you wish to see our work?” He nodded and she motioned for him to follow but he shook his hands and she remembered about the chains. “Right, you’re cuffed. Would love to see you chained somewhere else but we don’t have time for that now.” The words sent a rush of blood straight to his cock.

He followed her, the mountain was warm, and as they walked around, he spotted hundreds of females, some training, some doing chores, but all of them were undeniably happy as they walked around with their wings held proudly behind them.

“Welcome to Miramaris.” She gestured to the open space. “We raid the camps, and we forge the scene, they don’t bother looking for them anyway. Started with small cabins and barely any resources, but as Rhys’s father learned about this place, he helped us, he was a disgusting man but even he knew this was wrong, Rhys kept helping us after, and he invited me to work with him closely after I've been targeted by a rival camp, he saved my life, and he knows what we’re doing. We’re not the monsters here Az.”

He felt bad for all this time he judged her without even bothering to learn the truth about her. They were looking to an open field, some females were bathing in a lake that crossed the mountain. There were hundreds of them, even children were running around, this place was everything he dreamed for the camps to be.

“I don’t even know how to apologize to you.” He said honestly.

“Help us save them, the females need me, they need us. You can come with me as my partner… “Nothing would’ve prepared him for the words that left her mouth next. “As my mate!”

“Your what?” He looked at her incredulously.

“That night in the library? Where I found you in your cute pajamas?” The memory came back to him and he nodded. “ It was when it snapped for me, decided to tell you cuz you know the truth now and I would like to be told if it was the other way around.” He nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the information he received in a short amount of time. “You don’t have to say anything, but if you’re willing to give this a try, meet me tomorrow night right here, we have more females to save.” She said, turning her back to him and walking away.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

He saw her before she saw him, and as he watched her frame lean against the wall, dressed all in black and looking around expectantly, he felt, the bond making itself known for him, he could feel her on the other side, waiting for him with a warm heart filled with love, love for him.

“You came.” She smiled. Her eyes glowing with emotion as she felt a wave of feeling flooding her chest and as she reached for the other side of the bond, Azriel was there, waiting for her with open arms.

“I would never let my mate go alone, never again.” He pulled her close, hand wrapped around her waist as he kissed her, her soft lips made him feel at home as she kissed him back. “Let’s go and rescue them.” He said, grabbing her in his arms, she let out an excited squeal as he leaped to the sky, taking her with him.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #azriel #moonlightazriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris

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ohsohoney · 5 days ago

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Fourteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Been a little while but the next updates here! Lots to unpack, hope you enjoy it:)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48

Masterlist

Things after that seemingly did a 360.

Not that I was given much of a chance to catch up with it all though, having been left standing in the studio hours earlier, back to the wall whilst the door hinges had slowly creaked to a close.

No, because that would have been far too much to ask for.

Marshall had relaxed in a way that was more like a steel trap being reset; ready and waiting to be crossed again. It had me on edge. I couldn’t deny that, seeing as I knew what could be lying in wait for me if I did dare to trample any closer, but there was also an ominous instinct that had my back up. Something that kept me from lingering too long.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” The man himself asked, tapping my forehead as he slid back into the driver's seat.

We’d gone out, as promised, not long after ‘The Change’ had occurred (something I’d taken to dubbing the whole situation as inside my head). Rosie hadn’t forgotten about her idea of dinner and a movie– and really… Of all the things we could have possibly done after a kiss like that, it just had to be this.

Honestly, I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop that particular train of thought each time I found my mind wandering back to it.

“Yoo-hoo…” Marshall dragged out, his brow arching as he glanced over at me again.

Z was in the back typing away, having become completely unaware of our shared awkward existence ever since her sister had first called whilst we’d been eating dinner. The girl had taken to texting throughout, telling Ayla all about the heroics Marshall had performed that same morning in the principal's office, as well as the movie we were now headed to see. I had to smile at their closeness, thinking back to my own siblings and wondering how Em struggled to see just how much the two girls loved one another.

I glanced over at him, head rolling against the headrest. He was watching me with those familiar baby blues, but each time I caught sight of them, I was instantly reminded of the way they’d clouded over in the studio earlier.

“Thinking ‘bout getting a cat.”

His brow furrowed.

“A cat?” He deadpanned, obviously perplexed by my answer.

I wasn’t actually thinking about it, but now that I’d gone and said it… it wasn’t half a bad idea.

So I ultimately shrugged, if only in an attempt to tear my eyes away from his. “Cats are cool.”

At his scoff of disagreement, I nudged his arm off of the adjoining console with my elbow, “They are.” I defended, “They don’t need me to walk them or play fetch. They’re cute and fluffy, can definitely keep me warm at night.” I hummed, that eyebrow of his quirked up higher. “And besides, I reckon it could keep me company when I’m back in London, you know. Figure I’ll have a hard time with that after having you two around for so long– even with Lotts there to keep me from going insane.”

Marshall kept quiet at the acknowledgement, but did start up the car, its engine rumbling to life beneath us not a second later.

It was just when I heard his faint intake of breath and caught the way he opened his mouth to speak, that Rosie shoved her phone in my face, her beaming grin peeking out over my shoulder. “Ayla, meet El!”

I blinked at the sudden invasion I’d been confronted with but couldn’t help my warm laughter, even as Em gently scolded his daughter for the intrusion. “Z, what I keep tellin’ you?”

“But Dad, it’s important!”

My gaze flickered between the two of them and it was only when I drew my eyes back down to where the screen sat between us that I saw the fondness which had since swarmed my expression. I tried to dampen it slightly without being too obvious, but the girl waiting seemed to be watching the whole scene rather intently. She smiled though when she saw she’d finally captured my attention. All soft like.

My breath caught a little in truth, never really having thought about getting to meet Marshall’s eldest this early on, or through a screen either. Rosie didn’t seem to care much though, elbowing her way between the two front seats to get as much as she could of us into the frame.��

“Layly, baby!” Marshall’s greeting cut in before I could spit out a hello, his little nickname for his girls sparking that same fondness I’d felt earlier. “How you doin’, Trailer? Behavin’, I hope.”

I blew out a small snort at the next nickname he used, turning an amused smile Marshall’s way, but his focus was wholly on the girl currency rolling her eyes at him through a digital frame. “You know I am.” Ayla huffed around a faint chuckle, leaning in closer to the lens, “School keeps me way too busy to get up to anything stupid.”

“What I love to hear.” Marshall replied with a sarky sort of smile, a new one that I could add to my growing collection, I quietly deemed. “You been good though?” He prompted further, “Don’t have to stop by and talk to any hanger-ons, do I? ‘Cause you know I will.”

“Yes, I know.” Ayla shook her head, exasperated, but her sweet smile was still so prominent. “Besides, I think you guys have had enough drama going on lately.”

Marshall’s eyes traitorously jumped over to meet mine in that split second, something I thought only I caught until I witnessed the assessing look Ayla took on. So I was quick to clear my throat, internally cursing his name, “I don’t know what Z’s told you, but the two of us? We’re innocent! This is all on your Dad.”

That seemed to earn me a lighthearted laugh, one that trickled out of the speaker and appeared to loosen Marshall’s tense set of shoulders. The man in turn levelled Rosie and I with an aggrieved look before he turned to speak to Ayla once more, “It’s like I’m a one man army here, AB. Didn’t think I’d ever lose Z, but she’s gone darkside.”

“Dad!” Rosie admonished around another giggle, whilst Ayla gasped theatrically, “Oh how the tables have turned. What will the papers say?”

“Hilarious.” Marshall said in a manner that was deliberately impassive. But he still cracked a smile though when Ayla’s chuckles trickled through.

“Good to see you guys,” She commented soon after and I got the chance to look at her a little closer, taking in the college dorm she had sitting behind her, as well as the blue of her eyes. They were more almond shaped, sure, but somehow the colour still managed to match Marshall’s toe for toe. “And to finally meet you, El. I’ve heard a lot about you these last few weeks.”

A sharp breath hitched my chest. “Only good things, I hope.” I found myself retorting around a rosy smile, knocking my head lightly against Z’s when the girl crowded in further to my side, her chin settling on my shoulder, “But it’s also really nice to put a face to all the stories I’ve been told, too.”

Ayla gifted me a bright grin at that, her gaze drifting between Rosie and I, “No hope in praying that it’s nothing too embarrassing then?”

I couldn’t stop the way I instinctively turned to share a secretive grin with the girl beside me, pleased when Rosie mimicked me to do the same. “I don’t know about that, I’ve heard all about the grocery store you see.”

The gasp that the comment drew from the older girl was all too real that time, “I was seven!”

“Seven don’t mean nothin’,” Em swiftly cut in, narrowing his eyes ever so as he directed a finger at the phone and his eldest, “You’d been potty trained since you were two.”

Rosie and I snickered between ourselves, but Marshall caught onto it all too quickly, moving to shift that finger towards the pair of us, “Aye, you two ain’t no better. Ms Bedwetter and Pillow-drewler.”

“Hey!” Rosie immediately spat, thumping the man’s shoulder hard enough to have the corners of his mouth twitching even as his brows rose, “That was years ago! And you said you wouldn’t tell nobody!”

Marshall’s hands flew up in a gesture of surrender when his daughter narrowed her eyes in further scrutiny, but I could tell that Z wasn’t as embarrassed as she was letting on to be, knew it to be true when she added, “You also said it was natural! That you didn’t stop doin’ it ‘til you were fourteen!”

Em’s chin jerked up before he softened his reaction, though his eyes were a tad bit too wide to have not been entirely caught off guard by the secret his daughter had just spilled, “Jus’ said that to make you feel better.”

His shrug wasn’t all that uncaring as he hoped for it to be.

“Liar!” Rosie laughed, poking her dad’s side before she turned to peer back over at her sister and me, “He really did, promised he wouldn’t tell on me if I didn’t tell on him either. But he’s a big fat liar.”

“Name of your next single.” I quipped thoughtlessly, the comment going straight over Rosie’s head. Em shot me a steely glare and faked a silent laugh though, his lips softening into a small smile.

It was after that in which Marshall’s palm pressed against Rosie’s forehead, jokingly coaxing her into the backseat once again, waving off her protests as she slumped into the middle. “Yeah, yeah, keep complainin’ and we’ll miss this damn movie, won’t we.”

“Dollar!” Two voices called out and I peered into the back to see Z snicker into the phone, the screen Ayla was still on illuminating her face.

Marshall scoffed at the two girls but I could see how he was grinning happily to himself as we pulled out of the lot and onto the main road.

It continued to surprise me how easily he could move throughout the city without looking at a map or using the GPS he had installed in the flashy monster-truck he was so fond of. I kept finding myself getting lost in the way he drove, in truth, stare caught on how the streetlights flashed over his stubbled cheek and the fluid way he switched gears as though the stick was an extension of his arm.

It was only when Rosie popped up with another question that I found myself startling, looking back to immediately avoid the knowing smile Marshall had plastered over his face. Shit.

“What’s the movie called again? Ayla wants to know if it’s the same one she’s watching this weekend.”

I had to think for a second before I could answer her, my mind still honed in on the image of Em’s profile, “Love, Rosie.”

Z’s face split into a wide grin, her eyes squinting with the strength of it as she repeated the answer back to her sister, talking a mile a minute about how we were only going to see that film over The Book of Life because it had her name in the title.

I settled back into my seat easily enough and fiddled with the radio to keep myself from acknowledging my previous leering, hoping that the drive would be over all too quickly. Only, things never typically tended to go my way.

Jerking ever so, my straying gaze snapped back over to where Em was still watching the road, as though all of his attention was stuck there, and that wasn’t his hand on my upper thigh.

It was less than a second later that I let my eyes shift up into the rearview mirror, a breath of relief escaping me when I realised Rosie hadn’t caught the exchange, or see the lines her Dad was crossing.

I licked the back of the teeth and willed myself to relax at the touch, taking a small breath before I looked back over at the man in question. When I did, I found myself narrowing my stare at the slight smirk Marshall wore, apparently rather pleased with the reaction he’d garnered.

Still, my mind was warring with my want. I couldn’t wrap my head around the hot and cold, the way he’d push me away and then pull me in, how I’d thought about leaving to escape the icy shift and then been backed into a wall– literally.

I didn’t push his hand away though, and that in itself spoke volumes.

I couldn’t tell how he meant the touch, was he trying to be teasing? Or was it just a show of reassurance for the unexpected conversation started with Ayla? Had it been something he’d been wanting to do for a while now, or was this all just a game?

He squeezed, ever so slightly.

My eyes slipped closed.

His thumb brushed over the bump of my knee and I let myself melt into the firm hold.

It felt unnatural not to.

The hand didn’t travel, only moved away and then back each time it jumped up to the gearstick. I found myself, once again, wanting the journey to be over, whilst simultaneously hoping that it would never end.

The touch grounded me.

But it pulled away when the theatre came into view.

…

“Can't believe The Marshall Mathers is planning on watching a chick-flick.” I taunted playfully as we made our way up onto the pavement outside the red and gold doors, the joke only made to keep me from wanting to reach out and slide his hand into mine. Because I didn’t do that, I didn’t like all that sappy shit. I didn’t want to be holding his fucking hand, or have him drape his arm around me. It was just the moment, just that kiss fucking with my head.

Marshall feigned a put upon sigh, that hand of his coming up by his brow in an attempt to swoon. “Lord strike me down.”

I laughed outwardly, Rosie glancing back over her shoulder at us as she tugged at the heavy handle. “You’re not looking forward to it, Daddy?”

Shooting me a semi-sour look, Marshall let a lazy smirk crawl over his face just as he reached out to steady the door above Z’s head, “Nah I am, baby. Lia’s jus’ makin’ fun of the big manly guy.”

“Who?” Rosie asked in utter sincerity, enough that it had me cackling outright on the pavement outside. Em shook his head at the two of us, attempting to remain unamused but failing as reaching out to take my hand, tugging me through the open doors.

Z was still looking confused by it all when I managed to calm slightly, but her smile was soft as ever as her eyes lingered over the pair of us. It was then I realised Marshall’s hand was still in mine. He must have realised it too, because he let it go and coughed quietly into his arm before gesturing his chin out towards the concession stands. “So we gettin’ some popcorn or what?”

And with that, Rosie’s sole focus was on getting exactly that.

I ended up trailing after her whilst Marshall went and grabbed us some tickets, keeping an eye on her shorter frame as she weaved around a tall shelf to get a look at the array of sweets. There weren’t too many people about, but I still found myself glancing back over towards Em to see if anyone had sussed him out yet.

“What’re you gonna get?”

My head snapped back at Rosie’s ask, eyes dancing over the grin she bore before flickering between her own. I glanced over the collection the theatre had to offer, surprised by the obvious differences I could see.

“Me and my sister had this thing,” I started to answer, reaching out to pluck a familiar bag from off the hook, “Where each time we would go to the cinema we’d just end up getting a big bucket of popcorn to share and dump a whole load of M&M’s or Magicstars inside. If the popcorn’s still warm the chocolate tends to melt a little.”

Rosie scrunched her nose, either in distaste or just thought. “Sweet or salted?” Was the next question she posed and it hastily reminded me of the same one Marshall had asked that very first night I’d spent with them.

“Salted.” Smirking slightly at the way her eyes lit up.

“You made the right choice.” Z claimed with a nod and wiggled her brows before she spun around the heel of her foot to make her way over to the short line.

We ended up getting a large popcorn to share. At first, I figured it wouldn’t be enough for the three of us until I saw the container we were handed, then I was just beyond baffled at how different the portion sizes were in The States compared to back in London.

Once we’d paid, Rosie and I wandered over to a corner to dump the contents of the chocolate I’d picked up into it, Z having so much fun with it that a good couple dozen of M&M’s rolled over the ugly patterned floor. When Marshall strolled back over, he was wearing a questionable expression but holding onto three tickets.

“Should I even ask?” He quizzed, peering into the overloaded bucket. The look he wore turned somewhat appraising once Z explained and he was quick to steal a taste of our concoction, earning a tap to the arm in rebuke.

“Hey, hands off, bright eyes. Popcorn’s for the trailers, not here.”

“Bright eyes?” Marshall questioned, the left corner of his mouth lifting, but his ask was drowned out by Z’s, “The trailers? Dad always makes us wait ‘til the movie starts!”

I snorted and held out the bucket so that Rosie could take a great big handful, “We’ve long since discovered your Dad’s a little neurotic, lovely. We just gotta love him for it.”

Rosie’s laugh was warm as she peered up at Marshall. But his eyes were caught on me and he almost appeared frozen before Z leaned into his side, “Can we head in now?” She wondered, chewing away.

“Uh, yeah.” Em seemed to stumble, before he blinked and leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head, “Think we made it just in time.”

Love, Rosie was a film I could have lived without watching, I wouldn’t lie. It was like every other Romcom I’d seen a thousand times before. And yet, I loved every single second of it.

We were stationed in the far back, on the side closest to the stairs, Rosie perched between Marshall and I, her legs swinging back and forth. Throughout the whole film her attention remained captured, never wavering as her big doe eyes stayed locked on the screen with such reverence that it warmed my entire being.

Marshall wasn’t much better either, in truth. Something which humoured me to no end. Whenever he wasn’t glancing at me from over the top of Z’s head or stealing the popcorn from out of my hand each time I reached into the bucket, his eyes didn’t stray from the heartfelt scenes as they played out.

It was a strange conclusion to come to, that Marshall loved a good old fashioned Romcom as much as his daughter did, but it was a fact that went and nestled itself in between my ribs, where all the other little quirks the man had went to stay.

It was only as we were leaving, Rosie talking a mile a minute about the ending and how she thought it sucked, that he reached out again in the dimly lit corridor that led us back to the main lobby, only this time he didn’t have the excuse of stealing any popcorn from me when his fingers slipped into mine.

I tried not to show how surprised I was by the action as I looked over at him, grateful that we were the last ones to filter out of the screening room so that no one else noticed when I let my feet slide closer to his so that our shoulders could brush.

They were such simple actions, ones that would be second nature to most people, but that meant a great deal to me. Because see, I’d never really been the type to be overly affectionate, having hated hugs or anything of the sort once Danny had grown too old for them. Well, up until Lottie had come along. And most of the people I’d been with over the years had seemed to struggle with that, even when I’d pushed myself into reciprocating, when I’d forced myself out of my comfort zone to make them happy. But here and now, it felt natural.

Most things with Marshall did, I deemed. Even us arguing.

Our hands parted just before we could step through the end doors, his thumb brushing over my wrist as our eyes adjusted to the vast change in light.

Rosie was rubbing at hers when I glanced over, her too large drink squashed in the crook of her arm. Marshall seemed to follow my gaze because he reached out to loop her into his side not a second later, peering down at her. “I want you takin’ notes, you hear?” He mentioned in reference to the film, his smile now sly, “None of that’s gone be happenin’ in your future, girlie. You wanna get married? I better be dead. And don’t even think ‘bout havin’ no babies ‘til you start gettin’ grey hairs, okay?”

Z rolled her eyes in response to her father's shakedown, shaking her head up at me in silent camaraderie. “You just don't want people to see you cry.” She poked fun, her grin turning evil, “But we all saw the tears when she started her speech, Dad!”

“Lies.” Em scoffed back at her, pushing her away and out of his hold. Rosie didn’t much care though as she laughed her way into mine, head coming to rest on my upper arm.

“Me? I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.” Was the retort she gave him, one that had me snorting on a laugh when Marshall raised a brow and turned towards me.

“Think we left Z inside,” He said, “seems Tony Montana here figures he’s comin’ home with us.”

I couldn’t help the giggles that escaped me at all the references, especially when Rosie pursed her lips and drooped her eyes slightly, holding her arms out wide like Al Picino did in the famous movie, “Last time you gonna see a bad guy like me.”

Even Em couldn’t hold back the large snort he made at the little act she’d put on for us, shaking his head at her antics before he pointed a finger at her, “Last time you watch a movie with me, I swear.”

Rosie’s jaw dropped just a tad, “But it’s Scarface!”

“Exactly.” Was the only reply Marshall gave.

I lifted a hand to give Z’s shoulder a squeeze, smiling stupidly when she wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me into a lazy hug. The pair of them continued with their little face-off though until I was promptly reminded of the thing that had been bugging me throughout the end of the film, “Go and head out to the car, Tony. Those petrol cans you lot call drinks had me needing to pee like yesterday.”

Amused, Marshall shook his head at the comment, though his eyes were fond when he reached out to steer Rosie back over to him, “You need us to hang about, or?”

Rolling my eyes at his protective streak, I smiled and simply waved him off. “I’m sure I’ll survive a trip to the loo’s. I’ll try to make it quick.”

His lips thinned slightly but he acquiesced easily enough, navigating Z over towards the exit whilst I slipped into the nearest corridor dotted with bathroom signs. I was beyond grateful when I found the line not to be too long, just an older woman waiting for the end stall to free as well as a mother and her baby stood by the sink.

It was only once I’d dried my hands and fixed my hat in the mirror that I felt a slight prickle on the back of my neck. I looked up as the bathroom door swung shut behind the young mother to find a new face stood off to the right just behind me. I caught their eye in the reflection and felt my own snap back down rather quickly, pretending to not notice their sudden fixation as I casually wiped down the front of my hoodie and turned to leave.

It was a cough and then a light ‘Excuse me’ that had me glancing back on instinct, only to find the same girl suddenly right there. I blinked in shock at her sudden proximity and rocked back on my foot to put a bit of space between us, but the smile I gave her wasn’t unkind.

“Sorry,” She apologised, seeming to realise, though she didn’t look all that sheepish, even with having accosted me in the theatre’s tiny bathroom, “Just, can I get a picture and like, an autograph maybe? I spotted you by the register earlier, but lost you in the crowd.”

I never minded the odd signature and a picture was done easily enough too, but Detroit was currently supposed to be my best kept secret and knowing that this girl had already spotted me, likely with Em, didn’t do much to ease the sudden anxiety I started to feel.

Still, I grinned, unable to turn her down, “Sure thing, maybe we can grab it outside though? I doubt you’d want a selfie in the loo’s.” I tried for a light chuckle and was pleased when she laughed around an excited nod, exhaling slowly.

So we headed out of the bathroom and I posed for a picture against the white wall there, smile drooping a little the longer she kept snapping away, having gathered a little under thirty or so different photo variations. I ended up signing her phone case for her afterwards though and was thankful when nobody else seemed to crop up and spot me.

It was just as I’d done dotting the i in my name that she shifted ever so.

“I never thought I’d get to meet you, but really, you’re like one of my favourite artists. I think I know your whole album off by heart.”

My anxiety eased at her sweet words and my smile was sincere when I handed her phone back to her. “That’s really lovely to hear. I know getting to see some of you guys here in The States is always a little up and down because of touring, so I’m just glad we got to meet.” I assured her kindly before lightly teasing, “Never had someone say hello to me in the toilets of a cinema though. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

She laughed loudly and gave me a light shrug, “I’d say I was sorry again but I really didn’t wanna miss you, especially when I saw you out there with your boyfriend.”

My mouth went dry at her words, but the girl didn’t seem to notice, continuing to ramble on.

“Was that his sister with you guys, or yours? I know you have one, right? People say she’s a lot younger than you, but then they also claim she’s your kid too. The internet is so crazy sometimes. Still, he’s real cute from what I saw! Are you telling people about you guys soon or keeping it lowkey?”

I was grasping at straws trying to find words. To simply recall my media training and the lengthy speeches Mila had given me. But nothing sprung to mind. It was like a cesspit full of disease that ate each and every thought that attempted to grow.

“I don’t mind not saying anything to anyone if you don’t want me to.” The girl tacked on shortly after and I would have figured that she had quickly gathered that she’d caught me by total surprise there, but she was looking at me so closely that I could easily tell it wasn’t anything of the sort. It was like an eagle scoping out their prey.

“Um,” I swallowed, before finally plastering on something like a smile, “No, it’s– He’s not my boyfriend, just a– a family friend. But yeah, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention it. At all. Please.”

Her eyes were wide when she nodded back at me, but her lips were curled into an insincere sort of grin that plucked my anxiety straight back up out of the cage I’d wrangled it into.

“Of course, you can count on me.” It was with that in which she tugged me into a hug that had her hand settling on my waist, before I forced myself to step back.

I knew my smile had to have been less than flattering by that point, but I nodded anyway and waved at her as I backed down the hallway and crossed the lobby in a light jog, pulling my hat down lower over my face. It was only once I’d made it through the exit doors that I hurried to swallow the cold air that immediately hit me, throwing a startled glance back over my shoulder when the doors opened again, grateful to note that it wasn’t the same girl.

My eyes scanned the parking lot and it was a second later that I saw Marshall step out of the car parked across the street, his face furrowed under the shadow of his cap as he waved me over. I went, but something must have shown on my own face because he moved to meet me halfway, extending a hand out towards my arm the second he could.

He dipped his chin to catch my eye when we came to a stop and I wondered why he suddenly looked so uneasy. “What happened?”

My eyes snapped up to meet his and I blinked, still somewhat startled, “Nothing, it’s fine.”

“It’s ain’t.” He insisted, “You look like you’re gone be sick.”

I blew out another heavy breath and forced myself to calm the fuck down, “Honest, it was nothing. Just me overreacting.”

Marshall levelled me with a look before he sighed, “I know you. You don’t over-fucking-react like this. What went on?”

“Marsh, please. It was just a weird, I don’t know, encounter.” I tried, attempting to look past him to the car, “A fan that said was a bit too friendly, you know?”

I watched his jaw twitch. “What, in the bathroom?”

I sighed and lifted a hand up to rub at my cheek, “Just, can we leave it? Please. I just wanna go home. I’ll tell you then.”

Marshall watched me for a long second and for a moment I really thought he was going to argue, that he’d push, but instead he just gave a minute nod and wrapped an arm around me to lead us back to the car.

Surprisingly, Em didn’t head straight for the passenger side door and so I was greeted by the bright grin of a lovely little face when he ushered me into the backseat, seemingly knowing I needed a friendly face right then.

“What took you so long!” Rosie exclaimed the second she saw me, already shuffling over to make room whilst Marshall helped me inside, lingering a second longer to make sure that I really was fine before shutting the door and moving towards the drivers side.

“There was a long line,” I dragged out with a teasing smile whilst Em started the engine, “Think someone had a bad batch of nachos or something.”

Rosie’s face wrinkled into a grimace at my words and so when I met Marshall’s heavy stare in the rearview mirror the anxiety I felt was already starting to ebb. He gifted me a soft smile and it was then that I knew how well and truly fucked I was, because my heart stuttered.

…

The peace didn’t seem to last long though.

Not when I woke up the next morning to a thousand different notifications and my face plastered all over TMZ.

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bratbarzal · 3 months ago

Text

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Three

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 13k

Chapter Warnings: angst obviously what would this story be without it, poppy and nico having an overdue conversation, nico moping again with his big sad brown eyes, nico being jealous again, drinking, cursing, meddling friends, being stood up, mentions of controlling parents as always, a little touching maybe a little more kissing too and even more meddling friends

Summary:��Poppy Jensen’s job with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be her first big step into adulthood - a way to prove to herself and her overbearing parents that she could make her own way in life. She was never supposed to become involved with any of the players. Becoming best friends with their captain was stupid. Getting her heart broken by him was tragic. Getting knocked up with his child was just plain messy.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Two)

A/N: I have nothing to say honestly just hope you enjoy I really don't know why I struggled writing most of this despite knowing what I wanted to do with it I think just figuring out how I want certain conversations to go and how to get from a to b is pure stresssss I'm not entirely in love with it but what can you do also proofread her? I hardly know her

but if you have anything to say pls send it my way lmao I'd really like to hear any thoughts or opinions 💓

Poppy

Poppy was once told by her good friend, Kelsey, that she would be able to tell everything she needed to know about a guy by the way they answered one very simple question.

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

She thinks about it more often than she really should, if she’s honest with herself, but Kelsey’s rationale behind each potential answer is actually a stroke of rare genius - and Poppy often finds herself applying the logic to most people that she encounters.

Guys who say super speed are the ultimate red flag. No one wants a quick finisher, no matter how fast they may be in any other aspect of life. Some things specifically require time and patience. Sacrificing your partner’s satisfaction all to say you can run the world record fastest 5k is the ultimate ick.

There’s an argument to be made for the endurance choosers, it sure has its perks, but Poppy thinks it’s a boring pick. To be given the option of any superpower, and to choose perseverance, of all things? Get a life.

Anyone who chooses x-ray vision is a certified pervert, obviously. The same could be said for those wanting to read minds, although most of the guys Poppy has seen in her life struggle to comprehend the things she says in plain words, never mind whatever nonsense is circling through her inner thoughts.

Those who choose flying are one dimensional, rarely able to see beyond what’s right in front of them, because, if they could, they’d choose the much better option of teleportation.

Who chooses flying when you could just think about somewhere and instantaneously arrive? With your hair in tact and no risk of bumping into any territorial birds.

Teleportation is what Poppy would have picked if anyone would have asked her a week ago, for the mere fact that commuting anywhere is the bane of her entire existence, and if she thinks too hard about it or looks to much into it, it always has been.

She associates it with sitting in the back of her dad’s Bentley as a child, a tangible, frosty silence lingering in the air between her parents after one of their many even-toned arguments disguised as discussions, the fresh pine scent making her car sick and the leather seats making the back of her thighs sticky.

Or the fragile bones of her hand being crushed by her mother’s tight grip as they rode the Amtrak over to Manhattan, Priscilla sneering at anyone who dared step too close on the crowded carriage, Poppy being dragged throughout department stores in the name of mother-daughter bonding time, and clutching to a tiny consolation Macy’s bag housing a sparkly lip gloss like her life depended on it the whole way home.

She thinks of all the hours of her life she’s wasted on the Palisades Parkway, no longer able to enjoy the scenic route whenever she has to drive back to her parent’s house in Alpine after having watched one too many crime shows where a broken down car leads to a girl’s face plastered all over the news.

Even driving to work can feel like hell when the traffic is bad, what should be a 30 minute drive sometimes turning into an hour, Poppy’s fingers cramping around the wheel and her feet itching to touch solid ground after too long.

Teleportation sounds perfect.

And, there’s even a romance element to it. Being whisked away to Paris in the blink of an eye, suddenly sitting outside a boulangerie, decadent, rich hot chocolate on a table in front of her and a plate full of pastries, all because she mentioned a slight craving for a pain au chocolat.

Teleportation has always been the only correct, green-flag answer to the question.

Until Poppy properly considered time travel, that is.

The concept of it has always been a little too much or her to handle - too many strange loopholes, too many bad examples from the sci-fi movies her brother had loved as a kid. Travelling back in time to when her parents were her age and accidentally capturing her adolescent father’s attention à la Marty McFly? Sounds like hell and horror to Poppy.

But that was before she screwed everything up.

If she could have any superpower right now, currently weighed down with the burden of hindsight - which people have always told her is a funny thing, but she thinks is actually somewhat diabolical - she would pick time travel a thousand times over.

Because if human beings have a specific part of their brain that is dedicated to forcing them to sit and stew on their every poor decision for days on end - lets them rethink and regret everything until they’re blue in the face, and can’t think of anything other than how idiotic they have been - it should also offer the kindness of being able to go back and change what they so royally fucked up.

That’s what Poppy thinks, at least, as she throws herself down onto her bed, her back hitting the duvet in a whoosh and all she can do is stare at the ceiling and wonder how and when she became such a certified moron.

There’s a part of her that suspects it’s in her genes. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Nature and nurture, she was born and raised to be a full blown fool.

Poppy comes from a long line of privilege, and while it does take a certain element of intelligence to amass the wealth her family has, it also tends to go hand in hand with ignorance in its many forms.

Behind every fortuitous business move her father makes are a million other mistakes - failed ventures, bad investments, shoddy pieces of advice accepted from the untrustworthy snakes he surrounds himself with. Hidden beneath every rung of the social ladders her mother has managed to climb, there are the ugly faux-pas’ slipping through the cracks of a former, more unsavoury life she can never run too far from. And her brother - well, she suspects he’s just an idiot, there are no two ways about it.

She knows that she needs to stop blaming her family, though. This time, it’s all her.

She can’t blame her father for the way she overthinks, the man who makes every decision in life with the littlest regard for how anyone else feels about it. She can’t blame her mother for the way she places such little value on herself, the woman who walks into every room like she owns it and refuses to let anyone make her think otherwise.

Except maybe she can.

If she had the nerve to talk to a therapist, they might disagree - might say her overthinking comes from her dad’s lack of communication skills, a part of her brain always filling in the gaps of a half-assed, other side of any conversation with him. Or they might say her insecurities come from her mom constantly putting Poppy down while telling her to be more sure of herself - stop slouching, Poppy, no one will take you seriously with the posture of a candy cane.

She’d love to know where her need to repress her feelings so deep that she becomes an impenetrable, cold, dark fortress comes from. The need to push and shove when someone tries to get too close, because God forbid anything is ever easy when it comes to her affections.

It would have made the past 4 days since Nico had walked into her apartment and kissed the life out of her a whole lot easier.

4 days spent reminiscing, rethinking and regretting every single thing she had said and done since their lips parted, since he had put his heart on the line and she’d whacked it away, full swing, as if too desperate for the victory of a last-bat home run.

If she could time travel, she’d do the whole thing over.

“Don’t go on that date, Mohn.”

She had read the words on his lips before they registered through her ears, the sound of her blood rushing throughout her body occupying every sense for a brief moment.

What the hell is going on?

Nico had kissed her. He’d grabbed her, pulled her into him, and she’s pretty sure he had made her heart stop for a good second - there’s no other justifiable reason for the way it had been reverberating against her ribcage ever since.

And then he stood before her, a desperate, pleading projection playing in his dark irises, lips still slick from where her own had just been, cheeks flushed, shoulders rising with subtle panting breaths, waiting for a response to a question she couldn’t even remember hearing.

“W-what?” She’d stuttered, blinking hard and shaking her head as if to rattle her brain into whatever semblance of cognisance she could muster.

Nico had kissed her, and then wanted to talk? As if she had the brain power left for any kind of discussion after that?

He seemed proud of the mess he had made of her, lips lifting at one side, drawing her gaze immediately to every movement they made, so focused on the memory of how pillowy-soft they had felt against hers that she didn’t notice him stepping a little closer, raising a large hand to tuck her hair behind her ear until she flinched at the contact.

“Sunday, Poppy,” he had uttered, unfazed by her skittishness, “Your date, don’t go.”

She had blinked again, completely overwhelmed on every front. She could still taste him on her tongue, he was so close she could smell his cologne, tunnel vision only seeing him in front of her and the hand that cupped the side of her face in her peripheral, her heartbeat echoing through her skull and every nerve, every slight hair on her body, standing as if trying to close the distance between his body and hers.

It was the sensory overload that made her go against all other instincts.

“I can’t.” Her voice had sounded like it hadn’t been used in weeks, croaky and unsure, her next words stammered, “I can’t not go, I mean. I have to go.”

“You don’t have to go, Poppy,”

“No, I do.” That had sounded a little surer, the fog in her brain slowly clearing only for something more tumultuous to pass through in it’s place. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Nico blinked once, then again, frustration clear in the furrow of his thick brows as he seemed to stew on his next words, desperate to say the right thing. There was a prolonged, tense beat, before he had asked, “Have you ever thought we could be more?”

“More?”

“More than friends.”

If her heart hadn’t stopped when he had kissed her, it must have stopped then.

His back straight, eyes looking directly into hers, a hopeful, inquisitive gleam shining from within them - he had never seemed so sure of something for as long as she had known him.

Poppy couldn’t stop the little voice in her head questioning, where the hell has this come from?

“Have you?” She had asked with a eyre of disbelief.

Not once in the years she had known him had he ever made it seem like they could be more. There had always been an unspeakable, undeniable barrier between them. They were friends. They’d always been friends. Just friends.

Friends who spent most of their free, personal time together, friends who bought each other sentimental gifts they’d never get for anyone else, who shared intimate details about their lives and their pasts, and kissed each others heads like a goodbye ritual. Friends who broke each other’s hearts, seemingly beyond repair, without explanation.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I mean,” He had paused, breaking eye contact for a second as if wracking his brain for the right answer, sensing a teetering tension between the two of them. “Yeah. Yes. I have.”

She had narrowed her eyes at him, weighing up the possibility in her mind that she wouldn’t have liked any response he gave to her, every prospective answer causing a flood of doubt and uncertainty to crash in rushing, destructive waves through her mind. “Since when?” She’d asked, trying to level her bite.

If he’d ever thought they could be more, what the hell have they been doing all this time?

“Since I met you, I think,” he had shrugged.

Wrong answer, again.

“And you only bring it up when I have a date with someone else?”

She watched a series of antithetical emotions pass through his features, understanding, confusion, acceptance, denial, resilience, cowardice. He had seemed to find the small margins between all of them, when he had come back with, “It’s not because of your date, Poppy.”

“Then why?” She tilted her head as she continued to analyse him, again not sure what she was looking for, or what she wanted to find. That something tumultuous was already whirling within her, too late to be stopped, and Nico could seemingly see the warning signs.

“Why are you getting mad at me, right now?”

“I’m not mad,” she had denied, not even knowing if she was lying or not, “I’m confused. 2 weeks ago, we weren’t even talking, Nico-,”

“You said you forgave me for that.”

“I didn’t-.” She’d cut herself off before she could say something that would upset him, the conversation spiralling so far out of control from the momentary bliss he had provided only minutes ago - but she was too far up shit’s creek without a paddle, there was no turning back. She’d been wanting to have a proper conversation with Nico all week, what better time than the middle of the night on what was now his birthday? “That’s not exactly what I said.”

He had taken a step back, lips parting with an unreleased gasp, the once-hopeful glint in his eyes transforming into hurt. “You don’t forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that either,” she sighed, wanting answers, not to cause him anguish. “Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then tell me what the hell is wrong? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t understand where this has come from, Nico! You come in here and kiss me out of nowhere and tell me not to date other people and I’m just supposed to blindly follow along when I don’t get what the hell is happening with you!”

“I think me kissing you makes it pretty obvious what I want to happen, Mohn.” He had tried to ease the tension, his voice level and steady, stepping forward with his hands raised in an attempt to calm her, but she had taken a slight step back, clearly unaffected.

“It doesn’t.” She’d stopped looking at him at that point, keeping an eye on his feet to watch his encroaching steps. “Nothing about you is obvious. You don’t tell me anything and all I can think about is what I did wrong.”

If he couldn’t see the tears pooling at her lashes, he had to have heard the break in her voice - a sure indicator that she was close to crying - but his steps had stopped, feet seemingly stuck to their place on the hardwood flooring of Poppy’s apartment, and she could feel her heart shatter knowing he wasn’t persisting again.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He tries to reassure her, but it’s no use.

Maybe she would have believed him if he’d held her while he said it, transferred the meaning through touch to her skin, gripping her with every word until she truly understood the weight of them.

“It had to have been something. You don’t just stop wanting to know a person for no reason, Nico, so what was it?” She made her way to her couch, perching on the edge of the seat with her knees pressed together, and looked over to where he remained standing.

She could feel her temper flaring again.

How could he have the nerve to do this to her - to turn her world upside down in a matter of minutes - and not have the answers she needed to accept it?

“Poppy-,”

“I need to know. I can’t drop it and forget about it, and I’m sorry that I made it seem like I could, but if you want us to move on from this, if you want to come here and kiss me like that, and tell me you don’t want me seeing other people, I need to know what happened.”

“I-,” Nico sighed heavily, shoulders drooping, any confidence and bravado he had displayed after their kiss now a distant memory. “I don’t know.”

She had an immediate, striking thought, that maybe if she asked closed questions, he could give her an answer, and so, with misplaced courage, she asked, “Was it her?”

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Did she ask you to stop talking to me?”

It was a thought that had been plaguing her for longer than she’d like to admit - unable to shake the idea that maybe Talia had seen one of the texts she had sent, had gone through Nico’s phone and seen any of their older messages, any photos he might have kept on his phone, maybe a memory had come up from snapchat, maybe someone had mentioned Poppy and her curiosity had been piqued.

Poppy had always thought if she was dating someone, and they had a Poppy, she might feel some type of way about it.

But her and Nico were just friends.

Nico rounded the couch, sitting on the cushion beside Poppy, their knees knocking as he reached into her lap and took her shaking hands in his.

“Do you really think I’d stop talking to you just because someone asked me to?” Their eyes had met again, sadness brewing in the dark coffee colour surrounding his dilated pupils, and a glassy film coating her own. “Poppy, I would never.”

“I don’t know what to think, Nico, because you won’t tell me.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense! I try wrapping my head around it, try coming up with some kind of explanation, but nothing I say is going to change what I did to you, Poppy.”

Her question before had gotten her an honest response, had elicited something real and undeniable within him - he’d never stop talking to her because someone asked him to. So it was his own decision, subconscious or not. Maybe she could help dig further, she thought.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked after a beat.

“I,” Nico pondered over it before rushing his answer, a wave of emotion flashing across his face before his eyes locked on hers, ready to let her in. “Because I wanted to.”

That was a start - a simple question, a straightforward answer.

“Was that the first time that you wanted to?”

“No.”

Poppy could feel some semblance of confidence coming back. Closed questions, concrete answers, she could keep this up.

“When was the last time you wanted to kiss me?”

She could have asked the first - she sure as hell wanted to know it, but if he’d thought of being more the entire time they’d known each other, there was a lingering possibility there were many times - and they would be there until sunrise if they started from the beginning.

“Finnegan’s.”

“The bar?”

“We went there when we came back after we crashed out of the playoffs, do you remember?”

She remembered.

It had only been a couple of days before Nico had left for his summer back home in Switzerland.

Their loss in Carolina had been devastating, the boys came back broken and defeated, and all just wanted to drown their sorrows before they broke for their off-season. Poppy had been out with Nia and Kelsey and a few other friends at another bar when Jack had responded to her instagram story, saying they’d be at the Irish pub that was a staple within the team, and she should come over and join them.

She had made her way over pretty late, wanting to make sure her friends were okay without her, and arrived when most of the boys were completely shit-faced, past the point of tears and moping and deep into a mass state of hysteria and loud jubilation for the successes along the way.

She had found Nico in a booth in the far corner of the bar, head slumped over the back, eyes seemingly tracing the cracks in the ceiling until she crawled into the bench behind him, leaned over with her elbows resting on either side of his head, and took up his entire view.

“What’cha doin’?” She’d asked, lips twisting at the sight of his dizzy eyes trying to correct themselves to focus on her.

He’d quickly given up, pressing his eyes closed to shut out the risk of nausea taking over, the outer corners crinkling, the sides of his nose scrunching and his eyelashes fanning a shadow over his cheekbones - her own eyes were level with his lips, so he couldn’t really hide the way they curved at the quick glimpse of her.

“Suffering,” he had muttered, squinting one eye open to catch a brief, upside down glance of her. Nico was never this down after a few drinks. He was giggly, he was loud, he was touchy and clumsy - he was never the hide away in the corner sad type. “Wanna join me?”

“Always.” She affirmed, making her way around to his side of the booth and sliding in beside him until her bare thigh pressed against the somewhat scratchy linen of the pants he wore.

“I’m probably not the best company tonight,” He remained in the same position, neck craning so the base of his head could rest atop the back of the seat, and his eyes closed - giving Poppy the perfect opportunity to properly look him over.

The few moments they’d had together, alone, over the past few weeks, he’d been pent up, stressed, overworked and on the brink of eruption, so this was the first time in a long time she’d managed to catch him without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Only, that weight wasn’t so easy to shift.

She saw it in the bags under his eyes, in the unkempt playoff beard he was yet to shave off, in the stuttered way his chest rose and fell with his attempts at deep, calming breaths.

As she watched him, the corner of her lip tucked between her teeth in contemplation, she knew there was nothing she could say to make him feel better about this. He just had to feel it out, process it in his own way without her interference - but she wanted to be there, at least.

And as much as she wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he did the best he could, and led his team through one of their strongest seasons in recent franchise history, she wanted to provide him comfort in the quiet, too.

“I don’t mind.”

And so, with little trepidation, she placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, and rested her head next to it, glancing up to see the push of a dimple forming on his cheek as his arm stretched around her and welcomed her into his warm embrace.

“You wanted to kiss me then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Didn’t seem like the right time, though,” he followed up with an answer to a question she hadn’t even asked, yet. “I was leaving too soon and I didn’t want you to think I’d just kissed you because I was drunk and upset.”

Her eyes moved to his lips, a question for herself whirling around in her head. Would she have wanted him to kiss her then? What would have happened in the aftermath? Where would they be now? Would she have thought that? Would she have spent her summer stewing over what it meant, and how his lips had felt against hers?

Before she had much time to think it over, Nico continued, being spurred on by such a distinct memory that he was rolling towards the answer she had been waiting for, and she wasn’t going to stop him to try and decipher her own feelings.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I went home, thinking about wanting to kiss you, or not kissing you, and what it all would mean, and I kept trying to distract myself thinking I could just figure it all out when I came back here but then I met Talia, and I felt wrong for thinking about you when I had her.”

That had made sense. Nico was always a guy that would do the right thing. If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn’t think of the prospect of something with someone else, even if that someone was Poppy, and that something was a culmination of years of pent up feelings finally coming together to form something potentially wonderful.

She didn’t quite need or want to hear the rest. Didn’t want to hear how he’d gone looking for a distraction, and found just that.

Nico was loyal, and for him to maintain that essence of himself, he had to ignore the possibility of Poppy. Some subconscious part within him saw her as a threat to the stability he had with the perfect girl from back home, and he boxed her away to make room for what could be with Talia.

It stung, but he was right. Neither of them could change what had already happened.

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

She’d nodded after only a second, barely even thinking about it.

Jack’s words from New Years Eve rang through her, suck it up and move on.

Nico had his reasons, she had her answers. He wasn’t bored of her, wasn’t tired of her or annoyed by her. He’d been so caught up by his unspoken, untranslated feelings for her that he twisted himself into untangle-able knots that were only just starting to loosen up enough to be picked apart.

“Could you maybe say it?”

“Yeah, I could.” she had said through trembling lips, the hurt in his voice burrowing through her eardrums, lodging itself in her own throat, and dripping slowly but surely into the depths of her chest. “I will.” She had to be more sure, needing to erase any doubt she had planted within him. “I do.”

“You do?”

He still held her hands in his from when he had sat down, palms warm and slightly perspirant from his tight grip around her knuckles.

“I forgive you.”

His mouth twitched into a shaky smile, his eyes catching the soft light and twinkling with emotion, and she definitely wanted to kiss him, then.

She had wondered if this is what he felt when he’d kissed her before, this burning need. Her fingers twitched in his hold, her heart thudded in her chest, and her lips parted in anticipation, until she could finally slam the breaks on her torpedoing thoughts.

“It’s just a lot to process, and I don’t really know how I feel.”

She had wished she could take it back as soon as the words left her mouth, and Nico’s features had folded as he took them in. He broke eye contact almost immediately, head dropping to look down at their hands until he released hers back into her lap.

“I get it.” He uttered, forcing a smile as he glanced back up at her, briefly. “I sprung this on you out of nowhere, I’m s-,”

“Please don’t apologise,” she interrupted before he could go there, knowing it would send her brain into overdrive if he let even the thought of regret fester between them, “I’m glad you did. I don’t want you to be sorry about it.”

Relief washed over the both of them in a warm, steady stream as he nodded, leaning into the back of the couch, legs spreading as an elongated sigh wracked through his torso.

He ran a hand through his hair, and Poppy’s eyes flickered to the flex of his fingers, the strain of his wrist, the flash of protruding veins where his sleeve had pulled up with the stretch of his movements.

His eyes closed, and she took him in just like she had that night in Finnegan’s bar.

She’d had an urge then, a desire even, to provide comfort - to share his burdens, make him forget the pain he had just endured, wash it all away with encouraging words, gentle touches. A shoulder to cry on, two ears to listen, and, albeit she didn’t entirely know it at the time, a whole heart that was his for the taking.

And take it, he did, held it all summer, bent it all sorts of ways out of shape up until New Years Eve, and it was still in his hands. Smushed, dented, squeezed to within an inch of his life, her heart was his.

It was up to her now to figure out what she wanted him to do with it.

“I made a promise to my mom about the date, Nico, I have to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, seemingly resigned to the fact he had maybe been a little too lost in the moment to make such a crazy demand of her.

“And I think maybe we both need a little time to properly think about what is happening here.”

“Time?” He practically shot up, alarm in his eyes.

“We’ve barely been apart all week, Nico, I think that might be why we’re both so,” she struggled for the right word - pent up, emotional, strung out, “Intense.”

She had known she was emotional, overthinking to the point of ruin, but maybe he was too. Maybe that’s what had led to the kiss, to the outburst of sentiment. They were both in the depths of a pressure cooker of emotions, and some space might do them good to gain a little clarity.

Maybe with a little more time to think on it, to consider what he was admitting to, have a little breathing room, and act more on something concrete than a fleeting in-the-moment feeling, he might change his mind. He deserved the opportunity to do so, she wouldn’t hold it against him.

“How much time do you think you would need?”

“I’m driving up to my parent’s house on Friday, so I would have been away for most of the weekend anyway, maybe we check back in on Monday and see where our heads are at?”

“4 days,” he muttered as if he’d just counted them in his head. “I can do that.”

“Yeah?” He had nodded in response, and there was something like hope that lingered between them, sharing small smiles and gazing through glassy eyes. “You’ll be so busy you won’t even get the chance to miss me.”

She believed it to be true - Nico had his family over, would be spending the latter end of the day with them, and had 2 big home games in a row to worry about. Poppy would be the last thing on his mind.

If she had blinked in the moment, she might have missed the way his observation slipped to her lips, lingered there for a brief second, and glanced back up to flicker between her eyes again. “Not possible.”

“Poppy, have you suffered some kind of brain injury I don’t know about?” Nia’s voice rings through the speaker of the phone pressed to her ear, already supposedly-styled hair fanned out around her as she lays staring at the ceiling, willing herself to get up and go before she’s late.

No matter how much she doesn’t want to go on this date, her mother will kill her if she hears anything other than a glowing review. On time, preened to perfection, polite and sociable.

“Maybe I hit my head in my sleep at some point,” she thinks out loud, glancing back to the sharp edges of her bedside table and wondering if she could have thudded into it in the night.

Surely she would have a scar or a bruise.

“You must have,” Nia agrees, “That’s the only logical explanation why you’d ever consider telling the guy you’ve been hung up on since you first met him that you need time to think about how you feel,”

“Ni,” Poppy groans, “I called you for advice, not a lecture.”

“If you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, and you my friend, are a dumbass.”

“In my defence-,”

“Nope!” Poppy doesn’t know what Nia is doing on the other end, but she hears something clatter as if being slammed down on a table in protest, “There is no defence, you’re an idiot.”

“I didn’t know how I felt about it, Ni,” Poppy sighs, sitting up and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She doesn’t know why so much of her time tonight has been wasted trying to look so good when she doesn’t even want to. When she’d gone to visit her parents, her mother had practically given her a full blown rundown of the guy she was meeting.

Tucker Lyon, she can’t help to instinctively roll her eyes at just his name, works in investment grade finance for one of the Big 4 - she hadn’t cared enough to ask which one. His family are property people, her mom had said, and own enough Manhattan real estate to hold some serious power. Priscilla had met his mother years ago at some luncheon in the city, and apparently the two had been in cahoots since then to set their children up.

Poppy doesn’t want to be set up with some walking red flag, biting her tongue over a plate of food too small to satisfy her hunger while he mansplains stocks and shares to her.

She wants to be in whatever bar the guys are holed up in, tucked under Nico’s arm, side practically glued to his, sipping cocktails and celebrating him like he deserves to be celebrated.

But instead, she can admit, she has been a royal idiot.

“I still don’t know, it’s all come at me full force and I don’t understand my feelings.”

“Bullshit!” Nia scoffs, “You knew you were into him the second he first flashed those dimples your way.”

She isn’t entirely wrong.

Poppy had once harboured a slight crush on him. In the very early stages of their friendship. One small enough that when she realised it was completely one-sided - and she was being delusional to ever think his cute nickname for her and his insistence on spending time only with her was anything more than his attempt to make a friend - she could swallow it down until it was barely anything.

She trained her heart not to stutter when he approached her, told her brain to shut up when he flashed her one of those perfect, all consuming smiles, and could cross her arms to restrain her hands from wanting to hold his whenever they walked side by side.

She’d become so good at suppressing her feelings, she’d forgotten she had them.

She had forgotten all the times they had hung out alone over the years, never second guessing all the looks and the touches, the times he’d let her stay over if it got too late to go home alone, and the times he’d waltz into hers like he owned the place.

She’d forgotten when she had seen him with Talia, always claiming the feeling in her gut was one of loss and reminiscence, not envy and bitterness.

She’d forgotten when the Hughes brothers had helped her move a couple months ago, and Luke had questioned the amount of Nico he was helping to scatter throughout her apartment. Pictures on her bookshelf, pictures stuck to her fridge with souvenir magnets from Swiss gift shops, a couple hoodies, Devils branded shorts and big t-shirts of his he’d come across in the boxes.

“I didn’t realise you and Cap were so close,” Luke had picked a frame out of one of the boxes, the picture of Nico and Poppy at the Halloween party inside, and waved it in her direction as she stood with her hands on her hips, figuring out if she wanted to alphabetise or colour code the books she was displaying.

“Huh?” Poppy tilted her head towards the tall boy, watching as he shook his curls back into place and ran a hand through them. He’d worked up a bit of a sweat lugging her boxes upstairs, and now that everything was finally moved, Jack had gone to get them food, and Poppy and Luke were getting started on unpacking the easy stuff. She looked to the picture in hand, reaching over and taking it to get a closer look. “I guess we were, I don’t really know.” She wasn't a good enough actress to properly pull off the nonchalance she was aiming for.

“You don’t know?” Luke scoffed, rifling through other pictures in the box - all framed, mostly of her and Nico, some just the two of them, some of them in groups, but always side by side. Always grinning ear to ear. “You’ve got like a shrine in here, PJ,”

“It’s not a shrine,” she had argued, “You don’t keep pictures of your friends? Sounds kind of cold, if you ask me, Moosey.”

“I keep pictures on instagram and my phone like a normal person.” He chuckled.

“Generational gap, you kids are done for when the cloud goes down, you know. Physical media is forever.”

“You sound like my mom.” Luke jibed, and true to his nature, unable to stop himself before he inadvertently crossed a line, he asked with a weird wiggle of his eyebrows, “So, you wanna keep Nico forever, huh?”

“Shut up, Luke.” If Poppy had something soft enough, she would have thrown it at his head. The photo frame in hand seemed like overkill, and she didn’t want to hurt the kid, just make him stop. She didn’t much like talking about him, what they once had, what they once were. Even if he did have the wrong impression of what they were. It was upsetting, and she didn’t want to get upset - not in front of Luke. “You can keep those in the box.”

Luke had reached out for the frame in Poppy’s grasp, had watched as she hesitated giving it back, as she looked down and took in the huge smiles on her and Nico’s faces, and as she made the decision not to put this one back. Maybe she could phase it out, wait until she took a nicer, more meaningful picture with someone else before she replaced that one.

“I’ll keep this one out. I look cute.”

"Sure." His sarcasm was not entirely appreciated.

She had heard him chuckle to himself as she stood the frame on one of the shelves, placing it between a scented candle she had no intention of ever lighting and a small faux lavender plant. Not shrine-like at all.

She’d forgotten about any suppressed feelings until Nico kissed her.

Until he opened up Pandora’s box, releasing all her pent up emotions to roam freely, creating chaos and causing havoc through every corner of her entire existence.

For the past 3 days, she’s thought about him with everything she has done.

On Thursday afternoon, sat alone in her office, going over emails and wondering what he would be up to with his family. Was he happy, were they having fun, did he think about her for a second?

On Friday evening, driving alone on the long winding roads to her parent’s house and listening to the commentary for the game on the radio. Making it to the house in time for the 3rd period, and seeing the team celebrate. Was he well rested, excited for his family to watch him play at home, did he look up into the staff suite at the Rock and wish she was there cheering him on?

On Saturday, retreating to her childhood bedroom after another tense family dinner, snuggling up with the dogs on her bed as she watched the game. Was he beating himself up, had he gone straight home on his own after the loss, did he have the same urge to call her as much as she wanted to call him?

Did he, on any of those nights, lay awake thinking about that kiss?

About how right it had felt? How he had exerted his subtle dominance over her with such ease, large hands encompassing her face and holding her to his lips like his life depended on it?

Did he think about where it could have gone if she hadn’t shut him down? Where they could be if he’d made a move before?

She’s been thinking about it. Non-stop thinking about it.

Thinking about that kiss, and the possibility of others - the moment in the bar, all the other potential moments he had wanted to kiss her and hadn’t. The fact that maybe her feelings had never been one sided, and she’s wasted years pushing them down for nothing.

“Do you think I made a mistake not cancelling this date?” She asks her friend in a moment of vulnerability, her mind reeling with the possibility that she has already fucked up what could be.

“No.” Nia assures her, surprisingly. She’s been calling her an idiot all night, what does she mean, ‘no’? “I think he needs to sweat a little, let him think about you out tonight with another guy, and come tomorrow, his mind will be made up.”

“You don’t think we might be overestimating how much it bothers him?”

“Don’t make me call you a dumbass again, Pop.” Poppy can hear the rolling of her best friend’s eyes through the phone. “And send me a picture of your outfit before you leave.”

Nico

Nico has never been so physically uncomfortable in his life.

For a man who plays contact sport for a living - has played it for a good chunk of his existence, and has suffered countless knocks and injuries, slept in one too many uncomfortable positions in planes, buses, trains and even hotel beds, and who’s face has had more than enough encounters with the wrong end of a pair of skates - that is saying a lot.

But every inch of him, every fibre of his entire being, feels irritated in some way.

It’s a feeling like unforeseen static shocks passing over every surface of his skin. Like little bugs crawling all over him and he can’t swat them away. Like random strands of fine hairs that can’t be seen by the naked eye but God, can he feel them. He feels them everywhere.

From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, he feels something prickling, stinging, burning.

Itchy.

Like a scratch he can’t reach in the very middle of his back.

And it’s not like he doesn’t know what it is.

He’s felt it ever since he left Poppy’s apartment in the early hours of Thursday morning. He had hardly slept, getting maybe 3 or 4 hours in before his alarm shrilled from where it charged on his nightstand.

He has tried to use the same coping mechanisms that get him through his bouts of homesickness - where he closes his eyes and tries to provoke a memory for each sense.

He pictures the views from one of his many hikes, endless fields of green grass, crystal clear lakes, winding footpaths and mountains that stretch as far as the eye can see. He imagines gathering around a fondue table back in his favourite restaurant, and can smell the freshly baked bread, can taste the melt-in-the-mouth flavour once it’s been dipped in oozing, melted cheese. He can feel the softness of the freshly washed sheets back in his childhood bedroom and can hear the chorused chirps of the birds outside his window in the early mornings.

It’s a technique that has helped ground him in the past, and he had thought that maybe if he applies the same logic, it will dull the ache in his fingertips that yearn to reach for his phone and text the girl who has asked him for space.

If he thinks hard enough, he can still taste the sweet but subtle vanilla of Poppy’s lip balm. He can smell the fresh-cotton essence of her laundry detergent, can hear the melodic sounds she had hummed into his lips, can feel the softness of her skin on the pads of his fingers, can see, clear as day, the dazed expression etched into her features like she had gotten caught up in the fantasy too.

If it wasn’t so easy for him to mentally transport himself back, he wouldn’t have been able to make it 4 days without seeing her.

He had known it would be hard, but, thankfully, he thinks he got himself enough of a fix to make it to Monday.

He’d taken all he could with just one press of his lips to hers, had taken more of Poppy than he had ever dared to take before, and his subconscious was clinging onto it for dear life, hoping with everything in him she could decide to give him more.

4 days.

He has never known time to be so cruel. For it to drag out every minute like it was an hour.

If his life had a remote control, best believe he would be jamming the hell out of the fast forward button. 4x speed, skip to the next chapter, not wanting or needing to know what happened in the in-between.

He’s always thought himself to have patience - good things come to those who wait, after all - but this had become the ultimate test.

He had tried to immerse himself in whatever was going on each day, hoping they would pass quicker, less painfully, but it had been no use.

His birthday had passed by in a dizzying blur. He’d had a late morning skate, had come home to his family waiting for him, had gone to dinner with them, caught up over Italian food in one of his favourite spots by his apartment, and had driven his parents, his sister and her boyfriend back to their hotel with the promise of dedicating some time to them before the game on Friday.

Every single thing had reminded him of her.

Being at the Rock and wondering where in the building she might be, and if she was reminded of him with the littlest things. If she was thinking about him, what she was thinking about him. Seeing his family, imagining her place at the table as they all exchanged laughter and stories over pasta and wine. Thinking about what she might contribute to the conversation, how she would get along with his sister, how they’d gang up on him and poke fun, but she’d hold his hand under the table and squeeze to let him know it was all in good humour.

In the locker room after the win against the Blackhawks, trying his best to get involved in the celebrations but just wanting to call her, to hear that she had watched, and was proud of him and the team. And even after the loss against the Canucks, he wanted to hear the same. He wanted to go straight to her place, the passenger seat of his car painfully empty as he drove himself home in complete silence.

And he had tried his best not to get too into his head about the whole space thing.

Poppy was right, after all. Things had gotten intense.

He had been intense - marching over to her place and kissing her out of nowhere. As right as it had felt, it was stupid. It was hotheaded and impulsive and it wasn’t considerate of her feelings.

But, God, he was so caught up on her he couldn’t help himself. He should have seen in the days they had spent together prior that they needed to speak more about everything before he threw himself at her like a neanderthal.

He’d only considered what conclusion he had reached, and as much as his conversation with the guys on the plane gave him an idea of Poppy’s mindset, some words needed to be exchanged before he planted one straight on her. The whole thing could have gone so much better if he just knew how to communicate everything with her properly.

Even before the kiss. Before New Years, before Talia, before Summer - if he knew how to speak about his developing feelings for her, this whole mess could have been avoided.

He wouldn’t be sat alone in a bar, yet again, as his friends surround him, partaking in the celebrations that are supposed to revolve around him, wallowing in self pity.

He wouldn’t be thinking about Poppy, out in some fancy restaurant somewhere else in the city, with some stick-up-his-ass loser who doesn’t deserve a second of her time, and imagining her giving him one of those earth shattering smiles - the one where her the outside of her eyes crinkle in the corners, and every time he sees it he imagines the lines settling there as she ages, and it’s always a version of the two of them, old and grey, side by side, smiling together.

He imagines her taking him back to her apartment, curling up with him on the couch Nico helped her haul up the stairs after she had found it for crazy cheap off of some sketchy ad on Facebook marketplace. He sees her slowly replacing all those pictures she has of her and Nico with pictures of her and him, phasing him out of her space like she would eventually phase him out of his life.

He thinks about her taking him to her bedroom - the one he had yet to see in her new apartment, but imagines it’s just like her old one; way too many pillows and throws, a thick, plush duvet that looks like she’s climbing into a cloud, and a beat up stuffed toy her grandmother had given her when she was young.

He doesn’t want to wish that Poppy is currently welcoming someone into her life that doesn’t suit her, but he can’t help himself.

He hopes this guy is late - and doesn’t even apologise for it. He hopes he orders off the menu for her, or criticises her choice of wine for not pairing with her choice of food like a complete snob. He hopes he’s awful to wait-staff. He hopes he’s type of guy who writes a suggestion on the tip line of his receipt instead of leaving a minimum of 20%. He hopes he chews with his mouth open, spits when he talks and scrapes his knife along the ceramic of his plate as he cuts his food, causing that toe curling sound that makes Poppy want to scream.

He hopes he doesn’t offer her his jacket, because she always refuses to take one out. He hopes he doesn’t think to give her a piggy back, because she always wears shoes out she knows she doesn’t want to walk in, but always wants to walk home if it’s nice out. He hopes he walks on the inside of the sidewalk, leaving her to the dangers of walking roadside, and walks too quick for her to keep up with little regard for how she likes to take her time on a night and stretch the evening out.

He even hopes he smokes. Poppy hates smokers. And if, God forbid, they kiss, he’ll have smoker’s breath, and she won’t want to do it again.

She won’t stand in front of him, eyes glazed over, lashes fluttering, brows furrowing, lips still pouting and fingers twitching to reach back out, yearning for more.

She won’t even kiss him back.

Not like she had kissed Nico. Not like she had clutched at his shirt like she wanted to hold him close to her forever. He wouldn’t get to hear that sweet, subdued sound she had made when his tongue had swiped tentatively at hers, or feel that slight pressure of when her lips had closed around it, sucking almost at the muscle before opening back up to allow for more of a taste.

No one else can get that.

No one else will savour it like Nico has, thinking about is for days on end, replaying the moment over and over until he has perfect recall of every small detail.

It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t shared much detail about this date, Nico thinks as he swirls the ice around his empty drink, sat right at the bar away from the sectioned-off area that Timo had rented out for the party.

If he knew more about it - about the who, about the where - he probably would be in a cab by now, knowing he was crossing a line but unable to do anything about it, his will outweighing any common courtesy just as it had a few nights ago. Or he would have spent the last few days in a google deep-dive, trying to figure out the kind of man her mother would approve of. Enough to set her up, at least - he doubts Priscilla Jensen entirely approves of anyone.

Nico finally makes eye contact with the bartender, and as she starts to make her way over, he feels like a divine intervention occurs - an arm falling onto the bar top beside his, a glimmer of metal flashing into his dark eyes - the reflection bouncing from a bracelet that is welded around the base of a slender hand.

“I’ll take another of these,” he lifts his glass when the bartender arrives, gesturing to the old fashioned he’d somehow landed on over beer tonight, “And whatever she’s having, please.”

“Vodka diet coke, please,” a voice rings out from beside him, and once the bartender busies herself with the order, she asks, “Shouldn’t I be the one getting you a drink? I heard it’s your birthday,”

“Why should either of us pay when it’s going on a tab?” He chuckles, angling his body better to face her.

“Ooh la-la, a tab,” Nia mocks, “Now I feel like I’m a part of an elite club!”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve never had your drinks put on someone else’s tab before.”

“Not the New Jersey Devils captain himself, it’s such an honour!” She raises a manicured hand and presses it to her chest, a playful smile etched into her features.

“Did you come over here just to poke fun at me?” Nico asks, touching on the dynamic that has long been between the two of them. She mocks him, mostly all bark and no bite, he takes it on the chest, knowing she’s doing it from of her warped version of almost sibling-like love, and Poppy usually acts as the mostly-unnecessary mediator, dividing her attention between them both.

“Of course I did,” she affirms, “You looked all mopey and miserable, how could I not?”

“How is me waiting for a drink ‘mopey’?”

“Uh, let me think,” she taps her finger to her chin, before lifting it to point at each feature she references, “The huge pout on your lips, your giant caterpillar eyebrows all slanted and frowny-,”

“Forget I asked,” he mutters, lifting his lips into a quick smile and thanking the girl behind the bar as she brings them their drinks. “Didn’t know you’d be out tonight,”

“I’ll be sure to send you an e-vite to my google calendar when I get home later.”

Nico’s throat tightens slightly at how similar Nia and Poppy are - always quick with a response, most of the time sarcastic, most of the time able to elicit a genuine laugh to rumble from the depths of his chest. “I see why you and Poppy are so close.”

“Hm,” she hums, making a show of checking her phone, “You barely made it two minutes, but it could be a new record.”

“A new record?”

“For how long you can go in conversation without mentioning her.”

“She’s your best friend, the one person we have in common, it’s normal for me to bring her up, Nia.” He reaches for his drink to take a gulp, hoping the ice might make his throat feel a little better.

He doesn’t even know why he’s denying his lack of willpower when it comes to Poppy - 2 minutes actually seems like quite the achievement when he thinks about how long he’s restrained himself from reaching out over the past 4 days. Nia approaching him like this has been the perfect excuse to think about her - to talk about her without feeling like he’s overstepping or assuming.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Is she a good kisser?”

Or not.

He chokes on his drink, thankful the liquid isn’t coming out of his nose with how much he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“She looks like she would be. I’ve always thought about it but there’s never been a right time to try it out. Maybe I should take a leaf outta your book and lay it on thick and fast when she least expects it.”

How he even thought he could gain advantage in this conversation is beyond belief. He’s out of his depth with Nia, as usual. She isn’t afraid to call him out - she never has been - and she’s the one person in the world Poppy would confide in. Of course she knows about the kiss.

“Is that what she said, I laid it on thick and fast,”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy.” She chuckles, picking up her cocktail and stepping away from him, “Thanks for the drink, Nico, try to enjoy the rest of your birthday party.”

“Wait!” He reaches out to stop her, not wanting to let a golden opportunity slip from his hands so easily. “You would have bought me a drink before, for my birthday?”

“I think you earn about 5 times my annual salary in a month, so probably not.”

“How about you answer a question for me?” He proposes, “As a gift.”

“I could,” she sighs, sitting down in the stool beside him, “But I heard you get touchy after gifts.”

He immediately regrets asking, but not enough to let her go. He’s come this far, and he has 4 days worth of questions he desperately needs answers to.

“Funny,” he gives a condescending smile, which clearly pleases her as she gives a genuine one back, lifting her spare hand to gesture for him to carry on. As if it’s that easy to narrow down all the things he wants to ask her.

One question.

What did she say about the kiss? Did she like it? Would she do it again?

What did she say about him? About how she feels? About what she wants?

Where is she right now? What did she tell Nia about the date? About the who?

“The guy she’s out with,” he can’t even bring himself to say the D word, “Is he nice?”

The look she gives him is almost pitiful. In fact, there is no almost about it. She clearly thinks he’s pathetic, but it’s too late to retract the question now that it’s out there.

“I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t like the way his stomach turns at her answer.

He had wanted this, right? For him to be a gratuity-withholding, uncouth slob with bad breath.

But the thought of her being out with someone that has the potential to hurt her, hurts him. His chest feels tight, his head feels muddled, and that everlasting itch returns to the tips of his fingers - the weight of his cellphone becoming that much heavier in his back pocket.

“I mean,” she carries on with a shrug and reaches for her own phone, “He was a no-show, so we’ll never actually know for sure.” She swipes at her phone until she brings up her message thread with Poppy, turning up the brightness to show Nico the picture she had asked her to send earlier.

It’s a selfie taken in the overly tall mirror she had once made him pick up from Ikea, claiming it wouldn’t fit in her car and his was much bigger, and he doesn’t know why his first instinct is to scan the background just to confirm his earlier intuitions about her bedroom. Too many pillows, cloud-like duvet. He can’t see the stuffed toy, but he assumes it’s somewhere in there.

Poppy looks unbelievable.

Her dress is short, like the one she had worn on New Years, fits snug around her waist and emphasises her curves in all the best ways. Her legs seem to go on for miles, adorned in knee high boots no doubt to provide some semblance of warmth. Her hair is pulled back, and she wears gold jewellery - rings, some small hoop earrings, and he’s only just able to stop his fingers reaching out to pinch at the screen because he can see the gemstone bracelet without the need to zoom in.

“Can’t be that nice if you’re standing up a girl that gorgeous, huh?” Nia asks, suggestively, leaning her chin into the palm of her spare hand as she looks up at Nico. “Some guys just don’t know how good they’ve got it.”

He figures he actually should be embarrassed about the relief that floods through him - washes over his entire demeanour, expression changing from defeated to victorious in a matter of mere seconds.

The crease that seems to have permanently formed between his brows smooths out, posture corrects itself, and his lips even almost turn up into a smile.

There’s a childish, territorial voice within him that wants to exclaim, Thank God! But he’s grateful that he’s able to mute it.

And, despite being privy to Nia’s games - despite knowing exactly what trap he is being lured into, what he’s about to fall for - he can’t help but suggest, “You should tell her to come out.” Because, despite knowing he had taken the bait, he can’t find it within himself to care. “I think I asked her one too many times to ask again.”

The one thing he had twisted himself into knots over since first hearing her utter the word date, hadn’t actually come to fruition.

There is no date. There is no uncouth slob.

There is Poppy, dressed as pretty as she is, practically waiting for someone to show her a good time.

He can do that. He wants to do it - to be the someone that’s good to her.

“Oh, should I?” Nia asks, a knowing smirk causing her lips to twitch mischievously. She’s been playing him this whole time, and once again, he doesn’t care. “I don’t know, she seems resigned to spending the evening on her couch watching New Girl,” she sighs dramatically, clearly looking for incentive - once again, reminding him too much of the girl he longs for. “I don’t know if there’s much convincing to be done.”

“I’ll add you to the tab for the night.”

Rookie mistake, offering something up so quick.

“Is that all my efforts are worth to you, Nico, a few measly drinks?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m actually out with a client tonight,” she looks back somewhere toward the other side of the bar, Nico can’t even bring himself to follow her gaze. “Been trying to sign them to my agency for a while, and if I can fix this deal, I’m up for a promotion.”

“Nia,” he warns, not liking how long this story is becoming. Forget good things come to those who wait. He’s waited long enough. “What do you want?”

“They’re big Devils fans, I think a night with the team could really open them up to the benefits of working with me.”

“Bring them into our section.”

“And maybe some tickets, too.”

“Fine.”

Nia gives him a triumphant smile, “Great, I’ll let them know.” She salutes him as she stands back up, gathering her drink and phone between the fingers of one hand before backing away. “Nice doing business with you, Captain.”

“Aren’t you gonna text her?”

“Oh, Nico,” she jeers, using her free hand to grasp him by the chin. “Dear, sweet, naive Nico,” she gives his head a subtle shake before patting at his shoulder condescendingly, “She’s already on her way.”

If anyone asks, Nico isn’t admitting to keeping an eye on the door since Nia had made her way back over to her side of the bar, but he knows as soon as Poppy has arrived. He watches her make her way over to her friend, watches the two of them embrace and talk between themselves for a good minute. He watches and waits until her eyes meet his from across the crowded room, and it’s like everything else stops.

He’d somehow managed to immerse himself in the party spirit since he had found out she was coming, fitting back into the group, toasting along with them, engaging in conversations with his teammates, his mood vastly improved in comparison to earlier in the night - of which he’s sure Timo is relieved after his short-lived exile from Nico’s good graces — but everything fades to black when he sees her lips curve upwards from afar.

Someone is talking beside him - hopefully not to him, he thinks, he doesn’t remember being mid-discussion with anyone - but it’s just drowned out mumbling right now, and all he can do is tilt his head toward the doors that lead to the bathrooms, and wait for her to respond. When she nods and separates herself from Nia, he excuses himself from the group, edging out of their section and following her path, losing her a little in the thick crowd of people - the bar still packed from where they had played the Giants game earlier.

When he gets through the doors, he’s thankful no one else is lingering back there - no rowdy queue for the bathroom, no staff, no one but him and the girl who seems to be holding his heart like a hot potato, not knowing the best way to carry it without getting burned.

“Hi.” It’s a weak starter for a heavy conversation, but if he’s honest with himself, she’s taken his breath away.

The picture from before hadn’t done her justice. She’s a little worn into her look for the evening now, hair not so neat, skin a little shiny, lipstick faded - but this is exactly how he likes her, especially when he takes in the way her eyes gleam and her cheeks puff out with her smile.

He makes a conscious effort not to let his eyes drift directly to the smile - to her lips, which even the thought of them elicits such a vivid memory.

“Surprise!” she sings quietly, arms outstretched and hands shaking theatrically.

He steps toward her with his hands behind his back, fingers clasped together until he’s confident that his knuckles turn white, fighting the urge to curl his arm around her waist and pull her into him, needing to be closer. He watches intently as her eyes flick down to where his hands should be.

She backs into the wall behind her, not to escape his approach, but more to prepare herself for it - like she’s settling in and embracing it.

She isn’t running. She isn’t pushing.

She’s waiting.

“I’ve missed you.” Nico wastes no time in telling her the truth - telling her what she’s refused to believe every other time he’s said it, but he can tell with the tilting of her head and the rounding of her eyes that understanding has settled within her. She has no comeback, no it’s only been a few days, and he thinks she must have felt the drag of them in the same way.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Whatever anxiety has rooted itself deep inside him for the past 4 days dissipates almost immediately.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He admits, without shame or reluctance. After Poppy had helped him overcome whatever had been censoring him before, there is no point now in holding back or beating around the bush. “You look so good, Mohn.”

A rush of confidence allows for him to close the gap, standing right before her as she leans against the wall, neck craning ever so slightly to look up at him. He still won’t touch, hands laying against the stone at either side of her hips, not daring yet to let even a sliver of his finger graze at her flesh.

“You look good, too.” She breathes, eyes glancing down to do an appreciative once over of his outfit, and he doesn’t miss the glint of pride cross through her eyes when she catches the glimpse of the gold that peaks out from the neck of his sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry about your date.”

“Are you?” Her lips twist into a knowing smile. It’s an example of one of her many traits that he loves - she can detect his bullshit a mile off.

“Mmhm,” he nods, “I’m sorry a world exists where any man is stupid enough to stand you up, Poppy.”

“I’m the stupid one,” she argues, and he misses her gaze as soon as she takes it away, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment. “I should have listened to you and cancelled in the first place.”

“I was stupid to ask that.”

“Maybe we’re both stupid.”

“Definitely.” He probably shouldn’t be agreeing to her calling herself stupid, but it comes out before he can think too much on it. They’ve both wasted too much time.

“Did you have a good birthday?” She asks, and a slight movement between them catches his eye, her fingers twisting together as if she’s withholding her touch, too.

“It’s better now.” He smiles fondly as she rolls her eyes.

“How are your family?”

“They’re good.” He doesn’t want to go into too much detail about how shamefully miserable he has been over the past few days - doesn’t want to tell her how his mom had called him out on his lack of contribution to conversations, and he’d managed to pin it on the stress of the season. She still raises a brow at his insufficient answer, and he expands before she can tell him off. “Everyone but Luca made it out, my sister had to go back already for work, but my parents booked a trip to Halifax to visit the Phillips’, I lived with them when I played up there, they have a few friends to visit in Canada but they’ll drop back to see me again before they fly home.”

He feels the tickle of soft fingertips at the inside of his arm, slowly grazing down as he speaks, and as he watches Poppy, he thinks she must not realise she’s doing it - letting intuition take over as she’s distracted by the conversation. He lets her take the lead on initiating any touching, and it takes all the restraint he has left not to barge through the door she’s attempting to slowly eke open. She’s the only person in the world who could make him audibly hear the metaphorical creaking.

“Did they get to watch you win?”

He doesn’t even know why he finds himself grinning at the question, but the tone in which she asks it bears a hint of pride. She had watched the game on Friday.

“My dad was pretty much in the stands in full gear, everything but the pads and skates, and my mom was repping Foundation merch, she’s run off across the border with my beanie.” He likes the way her face lights up.

“I’ll get you another.” She raises her other hand to card her fingers through his hair, and, for once, he’s thankful not to be wearing any sort of hat. The soft scratch of her nails is soothing, and he just about manages to stop himself leaning into her touch and purring like a cat.

That would be embarrassing.

He feels outnumbered, both of her hands on him, and it feels unfair not to be touching her - so when his thumb extends itself on the wall just beside her hip and strokes at the soft fabric of her dress until it’s softly digging in, he watches intently for any hesitation before he lays a palm flat against her side.

It feels like things are progressing both torturously slow and overwhelmingly fast at the same time. His heart feels like it’s slamming into either side of his ribcage, and like nothing else occupies his chest, the sound of it echoing as if banging on the walls of a deep, empty cavern.

“Did I already tell you how much I missed you?” He honestly can’t remember, but he’ll tell her again if he needs to.

The hand that had run through his hair rests now on the side of his head, her thumb swiping softly at his cheek as she cups the side of his face, and before he can even make sense of what is happening, he’s being pulled forward.

He bends to her advances with quick reflexes to avoid clashing, and their noses bump just before their lips meet.

Her chest rolls forward until it presses into his, and both his hands grab at her sides to pull her flush against him, legs tangling, hips pushing together, bodies touching everywhere possible all the way up to their mouths.

He gives her all the control otherwise, allows her to determine the pace, responding to her every move and every touch with fervour and heat. She pulls at him, one hand grasping at his sweatshirt and the other cradling the side of his neck, and he quickly lifts one to stifle the blow to her head as she collides back with the wall, barely noticing the pain where his knuckles meet the stone.

Their tongues press together at the same time, and Nico doesn’t even realise his lack of patience got the better of him until their battle for dominance kicks off between their lips.

He can taste the same vanilla lip balm, can smell her signature coconut scent, can hear soft, subtle moans, can only see the back of his eyelids, not daring to open them, just wanting to feel. And he can feel everything.

He feels the softness of her hair beneath the hand that is protecting her head from the discomfort of resting against the hard surface behind her, can feel the skirt of her dress bunching up in his grip, can feel her touch, fingertips dancing at the the base of his skull, thumb pressing into his jaw, her other hand making that same grabby gesture at the thick fabric covering his torso, squished between his heart and her chest, and he thinks he can feel the thump of her own heart on the other side.

He can feel her thigh pressed between his, the friction causing a heat to build deep in the pit of his stomach, swirling and whirling down, down, down until it culminates into the hard press of his hips into hers, and a rushed gasp combined with a guttural groan causes their lips to part.

They take deep breaths in unison, their chests bumping with every inhale, and he tries otherwise not to move.

He opens his eyes to find hers still closed, scrunched shut, even, and he tries not to be selfish - ignores the need to get a good look at her, to have this version of her ingrained to his memory too - and attempts to coax her back to him.

“Poppy,” he sounds just about as breathless as he feels. “Are you good?”

She hums in response, a subtle nod given, but he needs to hear her say it, and he tells her as much with a quick squeeze to her hip. Her eyes flutter open, gleaming and bright, framed by thick lashes and crinkling slightly at the outer corners as her lips turn up into a mischievous grin. “Better now.”

His chest feels like it’s about to burst open, like there’s a bear within him that is going to break out and pull her into its clutches, dragging her back safe to her home in his heart.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, because he has to - he doesn’t care if it’s rude to leave his own birthday party, doesn’t care that he’s been the most ungrateful person in the world all night.

He’ll make it up to Timo, get him something big the next birthday of his that rolls around. Throw him a party. Or he’ll take care of the tab the next time they’re out. Maybe even let him have the window seat the next time they’re on the same plane home.

Except, he won’t be doing any of that. He’ll be taking the reins on booking flights and putting Timo straight into economy, smack-bang in the middle of a row surrounded by a family of 5, screaming kids, arguing parents, the back of his seat being kicked the whole 8 hours to Zurich.

Because, just as Poppy’s swollen lips part to accept his advances - as her chin lifts, about to drop with a big affirmative nod, and he’s about to get everything he’s wanted the past 4 days and beyond - the doors to the back swing open, and his 6 foot teammate stumbles through, arms outstretched as he notices the two of them practically intertwined.

“Here you are!” He exclaims, voice booming in comparison to the soft breathy tones he and Poppy had been previously speaking in. “Poppy, you made it!”

“Hi Timo,” Nico feels her retreat, feels her legs brush past his and back to her own space, her hand on his chest now the only part of her that touches him, and he follows her lead, taking his hands back and trying not to clench his jaw or his fists as she converses with the man who was once his friend. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright, should be back on the ice in a couple weeks.” Timo had suffered an injury in one of their games at the back end of December, and hasn’t been fit to travel, and Nico finds an unspeakably bitter part of himself wishing it was something to do with Timo’s legs that were injured so he couldn’t have interrupted their moment. “Glad you’re here, this one has been miserable all night.”

He can’t be this oblivious, Nico thinks. Why is he still here? Why isn’t he retreating back to the bar and leaving the two of them to whatever he had clearly barged in on.

And when Nico looks back to his teammate, his long time friend, he sees the oh-so-evident glint of mischief and disobedience in his grey-blue eyes.

He is getting his own back.

Nico knows he was petulant to blame Timo for Poppy not being invited, knows there was nothing he could have done to change her going out on a date, or them not speaking for months while he was with Talia.

He doesn’t need him to enact his revenge to see he was wrong to ignore his texts, or to mope around at the party he had put so much effort into.

He tries to give him a pleading look to stop whatever he is trying to do, but it’s no use.

“The guys will want to see you, Poppy, Jack’s beating himself up about his shoulder, could use a friendly face.”

“Oh,” Poppy casts a glance back to Nico, and he gives her a nod, implying that she go see to her friend. “I’ll go find him.”

He can wait. He’s waited 4 days. He’s waited years, in fact.

And, after that kiss, he knows he won’t have to wait much longer.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nico mutters in their shared native language once he’s watched Poppy disappear through the doors to the bar, with a quick glance back and an apologetic smile before they closed.

“Just saving my brooding captain from being arrested for public indecency,” Timo shrugs with a shit-eating grin as he passes Nico and heads toward the bathrooms further down the hall. “You’re welcome!” He calls back in English, raising his hands and giving a patronising thumbs up.

Nico runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face and wishing it was Poppy’s in its place.

It’s just an hour, maybe two, in the presence of his friends. Drinks, music, everyone in a good mood for the most part. It’s hardly like he’s walking out into a press conference after a 5 game losing streak and about to have all the blame placed upon his shoulders.

It’s a party.

Poppy’s here.

He can do this.

He can wait.

Next Chapter

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw or if I forgot you I'm a muppet tbh)

#nico hischier #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #*writing #*oys #anywayyyy!!!!!!#sorry for the wait on this one I had poppy's half written really quick and then I couldn't figure out where to go with Nico's part #which is why the beginning is sort of rushed #and also the middle #and the end #I have a big chunk of the next chapter written so hopefully I can get that up soon #I keep trying not to say specific timeframes because do I ever meet them no #like I said Thursday night for this it's currently 2:30 Friday afternoon #so not !!that!! late but what a weird time to post I just want it out lmao #anyway if you ever read this far into my tags I say this not to spoil anything but to prepare you #the next chapter will be smut (potentially poorly written I will leave that up to you to decide)#omg I just remembered and have to include this because my manifestation powers are out of control #I wrote that little random fondue line before I left for my holiday last week and then within days the pics came out of him eating fondue #what should I write next who wants more workout vids I'll make it happen

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delimeful · 5 months ago

Text

you can't go back (10)

warnings: depression mention, death mention, animal violence mention, angst, lmk if i missed any

Roman had been poking and prodding the alien in his barn for answers for the better part of a month, to no avail.

No matter what combination of words, actions, or prop-laden charades he and Logan had attempted, they’d come no closer to anything resembling communication than they had when Roman had been angrily threatening the alien with a broom. He’d been growing more hopeless— and admittedly, more guilty— by the day.

And then, entirely unintentionally, along came Patton.

Less than an hour after their accidental introduction, Patton had somehow managed to not only convince the alien to speak to him, but also earn their apparent undying loyalty.

Roman kind of got it, because, well, it was Patton, but he was still feeling incredibly miffed about how the entire situation had played out. He couldn’t even say as much, because then Patton would start making pointed statements about not hiding things from one’s friends and how nice it would have been for him to have met their excitable extraterrestrial earlier.

Going by the way the alien kept hovering over Patton like a brooding hen, Roman figured their captive-turned-guest(?) probably felt the same way. Not that he could really blame them.

Despite Patton’s gentle prompting and Logan’s intense staring, the alien refused to utter so much as a recognizable syllable in front of them, sticking firmly to bobbing a clawed hand up-and-down or side-to-side for ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, respectively.

That alone was enough to confirm that Patton was right: the alien absolutely could understand human speech, though not as comprehensively as Star Wars would have had him believe. Even with this new willingness to interact, around half of their questions were still answered with a hesitant motion of bumping the sides of their forearms together and then drawing them back apart, which seemed to be the alien’s version of a shrug.

This wasn’t the only new gesture they were introduced to over the course of the next few days. From subtle shifts of their faceplates to the absent air-pedaling their stabby limbs did while they were thinking, they were now witness to a whole gallery of unfamiliar mannerisms. The thick spiral-ring notebook Logan had dedicated to documenting the alien’s body language had rapidly begun to run out of blank pages, with the frantic scribbling becoming such a well-worn background noise that even the alien stopped being wary after a while.

As it turned out, the alien was a lot more expressive when all six of their limbs weren’t forcibly restrained. This was one of those things that seemed a lot more obvious in hindsight.

Given that four of those limbs had both the sharpness of a spear and the spring-loaded power of a harpoon gun, Roman still felt a fair amount of uncertainty about just how much trust they were placing in a relative stranger, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

After all, this was a welcome change from the quiet, still way the alien had been curled up on their makeshift bed for the past week, not nearly as aggressive as before but also not nearly as alert or even responsive, some days. Roman had been getting more and more worried, half-expecting to find a corpse every time he went to check on them, like a bug left in a jar to suffocate.

Whatever magic Patton had worked, it had brought an undeniable spark of life back to the alien, and wary or not, Roman was unspeakably relieved about it.

The past couple of days had been dedicated to finding supplies for the alien’s project, which they had figured out (mostly through extensive guessing) was a makeshift translator. One of Logan’s old laptops, the disemboweled guts of the alien’s helmet, and an old car battery from the junkyard had been sacrificed to the alien’s tinkering, along with various bits and bobs pulled from old charging cables and a broken VCR player.

After the third unsuccessful game of charades, Roman had just grabbed the whole junk drawer in the kitchen and tipped all the contents out in the hopes that the alien would find what they needed.

Seeing as there hadn’t been any more requests, they seemed to have found the pieces they needed— or at the very least, acceptable substitutes. From there, all that was left to do was loiter in the barn and wait for them to finish.

“Guys,” Patton called, the only one allowed to sit nearby while the alien worked. “I think it’s ready!”

The moment the words split the air, Logan practically teleported over to their corner of the barn, and Roman was only a step behind, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest at the thought of finally learning what had happened to his brother.

The alien was crouched with their backwards-jointed legs folded under them, and as they all gathered around, the limbs on their back pulled in to avoid grazing any shoulders, as though even the barest touch would be poisonous. As always, they didn’t make direct eye contact with anyone, simply reaching out to the contraption and pressing one of the buttons on the VCR.

They made a series of carefully enunciated clicks and churrs, the same muffled language that they had used during Roman’s pointless interrogations, and then released the button and pressed down another one.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then:

“Can you understand this sentence?”

The voice was robotic, the inflections slightly strange, but the words were clear.

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed, half an answer and half a cheer of success. “It worked, we understood that!”

The three of them exchanged glances, sharing a sort of awed joy at the impossibility of it all. The alien waited for a moment longer before recording another stretch of clicks and sending it through the translator.

“The energy cell won’t last long. Ask important questions first.”

Like mirror images, both of his friends turned to look at him at the same time, and whatever expression he was making seemed to tell them everything they needed to know.

“No matter what the answer is,” Patton told him, reaching out to hold onto his hand tightly, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Logan flipped his notebook over, abandoning the list of questions to set the tip of his pen to a blank page. “I’ll record the information verbatim. It’ll ensure we don’t miss anything.”

Embarrassingly enough, Roman’s eyes began to sting. He cleared his throat, smiling weakly at his best friends. “Thanks, guys.”

The question sat heavy on the back of his tongue, the shape of words practically memorized after the many times he’d spoken, shouted, screamed them. When he looked forward to the alien, though, he realized that there was something else he owed it to them to ask.

“What’s your name?”

The alien went rabbit-still for a moment, a reflexive attempt to hide that Roman was pretty sure meant they were surprised. He didn’t rush them; he was pretty surprised at himself, too.

Finally, they leaned close to the speaker again. “I am known as Anxiety.”

“Anxiety?” Patton echoed, his eyebrows lifting in bewilderment.

The alien shuffled their hands over each other in an uncertain-looking gesture before speaking into the translator, a little quicker now. “Was that the wrong word? The direct translation is more like ‘he who fears needlessly’?”

“Anxiety… is a good word for that, yes,” Logan answered after another uncertain pause. “It simply isn’t a word we would usually use as a name.”

“Alien,” Anxiety replied succinctly, with another one of those forearm shrugs.

Roman nodded, fitting the name carefully into the list of things they’d learned about this stranded stranger. “My name is Roman, and this is Logan and Patton.”

Each of them waved on cue, one perfunctory and the other over-enthusiastic. Anxiety glanced between them for a moment before apparently giving in to his curiosity.

“Who is first?” he asked through the translator, earning three confused looks.

“I’m the oldest?” Roman offered, not in the least confident that this was the answer Anxiety was looking for. “But not by that much? We’re all in the same grade, um, which basically means we’re only a few months apart in age.”

Anxiety didn’t lose the air of puzzlement, but he shook his hand in the ‘no’ gesture. “Nevermind. Ask your questions.”

Roman swallowed, his nerves returning to him twofold, and forced the words past numb lips. “What… What happened to my brother?”

Although Anxiety had almost certainly expected the question, his limbs still flexed behind him, trembling slightly with tension. Foreboding sunk into Roman like a stone through water.

“Your brother was abducted,” Anxiety finally answered, the translator turning the words flat and stilted. “Stolen, but most likely alive.”

Alive. Alive. Most likely alive. Roman’s chest felt like it might burst with how hard his heart was beating.

“Why? What are they going to do to him?” he asked, his voice rising louder in his desperation. Patton squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.

Anxiety’s hesitance stretched even longer. This time, after speaking into the translator, he shuffled backwards slightly. Preparing for a violent response to whatever he’d just said.

“Deathworlders are valuable in some circles. That crew is money-hungry. They probably took him to use as a champion in illegal fighting rings. Dangerous, but not lethal if he can fight,” the translator spit out dutifully.

Fighting rings. Roman thought about every movie scene he’d ever watched with gladiators, every news article about local dog fighting, every old story about men shoved into a pit of starving lions. Pictured Remus, dropped into some horrible real-life version of that scene from Star Wars, but without magic powers or even so much as a lightsaber to his name.

He felt sick. His hand went limp in Patton’s grip, nausea churning in his gut. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. What could he possibly say to that? How was he supposed to ask about his own brother’s odds, his life expectancy on an alien battleground?

“What do you mean by ‘Deathworlder’?” Logan asked, his gaze sharp as he picked up the slack.

Anxiety’s attention was clearly riveted on Roman’s response, but he managed to answer after several seconds passed without anyone lashing out, leaning forward again.

“It’s a title. Sapient species that originate from deathworlds.” When this clearly wasn’t as helpful as he thought it would be, he elaborated further: “Planets with harsh terrain, hostile fauna, lethal weather patterns. A Deathworlder has adapted to thrive in these conditions. You make a home out of a place that is difficult for most aliens to even survive.”

Patton frowned, confused. “You’re surviving just fine, aren’t you?”

Anxiety’s faceplate twitched slightly, an expression they had no reference for.

“I thought Patch would kill me for our entire first interaction.” For the first time, a sense of his voice was audible even through the machine-tone translator. “I pay attention to danger. This planet is full of things that could very easily kill me.”

His extra limbs twitched slightly, as though he’d said more than he’d meant to, and he firmly averted his gaze to the ground.

Abruptly, Roman realized that they were one of the things Anxiety was referring to. The primal panic that they’d witnessed while interacting with him wasn’t a farce or an exaggeration. To Anxiety, humans were a potentially lethal threat.

“Patch?” Patton asked.

The angles of Anxiety’s back limbs shifted to point at where Lady Macbeth was sprawled out in a beam of sunlight, content that all was well within her kingdom.

“You renamed my cat?” Roman asked incredulously, and then, more pressingly, “If you thought she was going to kill you, why did you befriend her? You tried to stab me the moment we made eye contact!”

Anxiety’s arms twitched in what seemed like a hastily-aborted shrug. “Predatory beasts normally kill to eat or to defend territory. Sapient species are capable of a lot worse. If I am going to die, I want it to be quick.”

Something about the way the words were spoken, present tense and oddly direct, made Roman’s skin prickle unpleasantly. It was uncomfortably close to a request.

(Sure, Anxiety understood their language, but had they ever said aloud that they wouldn’t kill him?)

“To aliens, humans are dangerous?” Logan asked, dragging them back on-topic. “How so? From my perspective, you have more natural weapons than we do.”

Anxiety made a dragging chirp that seemed to serve as a wordless scoff. “Humans are impossible to kill. I bite you, and you hit me. My bite bothers you, but your hit shatters my exoskeleton. I bleed out and I die. Your body heals and you live.”

Patton looked discomfited at the very idea.

“Aliens are delicate, compared to us,” Logan surmised. “Because the environments they evolved in weren’t as hostile as Earth.”

Anxiety nodded a fist in confirmation.

By the time Logan turned to him with a grim look, Roman had already put the same pieces together.

“They wanted Remus because they were sure he would win,” he said, fists clenched at his sides. “Because he’s a Deathworlder, so he’s hard to kill.”

Remus wasn’t being tossed to the lions. He was the lion, trapped and caged far from home. A monster only let loose to slaughter.

Sure, maybe his brother wouldn’t die, but what kind of a life was that? Remus was sixteen. He was supposed to be trespassing in abandoned buildings with his shithead friends and creating bizarrely gory trash sculptures for his art portfolio, not fighting for his life in front of a crowd of alien scumbags.

“How do we get him back?” he asked, lifting his jaw stubbornly.

Anxiety only watched him, making no move to speak into the translator.

“Come on, there has to be a way,” he urged, shoving to his feet and staring down at the alien. “He can’t just be gone. I have to help him! You have to do something!”

Patton stood too, frowning in a way that suggested he thought Roman needed to back off, take a few deep breaths.

“Please!” Roman added instead, his voice cracking down the middle of the plea. “Please.”

Anxiety shifted to press the record button again, but the laptop screen flickered and faded, nonresponsive. Their battery power had run out.

With a displeased sound, Anxiety slowly rose back to his full height, immediately moving several steps away, and for a moment, Roman thought that was it, his begging had been rejected. It was hopeless, and there was nothing else to be said.

Then, there was a strange crackling sound from Anxiety, who had turned to face away from them in an uncharacteristic move, his spidery limbs shifting tensely.

“Give t—ime,” he spoke, the words nearly made unfamiliar by the odd pronunciation. “Thhhin—k.”

“Think?” Roman echoed with uncertainty; the ‘th’ sound dragged so long it was almost a hiss.

“You need time to think of a way?” Logan interpreted, clearly exercising all his willpower to remain where he was instead of circling around to see Anxiety’s face.

“T—ry,” Anxiety emphasized. “Don—t. Hope.”

“Trying is all we can do,” Patton replied warmly, while Roman was still puzzling out the soft clicks Anxiety was using for the ‘T’ sound. “Thank you for trying to help us, Anxiety.”

There was another odd noise, like the crinkling of paper, and Anxiety’s face was as concealed as ever when he turned and hurried back over to his makeshift bed, apparently done with speaking for the day.

Feeling more than a little exhausted himself, Roman didn’t begrudge him it. All that mattered was that Remus was alive, and they would figure out a way to rescue him. Anxiety might have warned them not to hope anything came of his efforts, but long odds had never stopped Roman from hoping before.

He wasn’t giving up on his brother. No matter what it took to bring him home.

#sanders sides fic #humans are deathworlders #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ycgb #you cant go back #my writing #writing #space au

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 27 days ago

Text

The Flip Side Part 13

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~9.6k

Summary: Your motivation to continue working as a mobster in Chicago is dwindling after the birth of your daughter.

A/N: Sorry for the unplanned hiatus. This was just very difficult to write!

Warnings: Angst, violence, mentions of abuse, death, blood, non-con kissing

Dean sighs quietly behind his mask as he watches his fellow rebels go through the nightly routine of taking off all of their body armor. Since being approached by Skurge and encouraged to go against you to try and rehabilitate your criminal empire, he and another 5 people that he’d recruited lived in what had essentially become a frat house. It could house up to 15 people, and there was no personal space, but it’s not like they had much time to enjoy it anyway. If they weren’t sleeping, they were out assisting Hela in some way. Most of the time they were serving as ‘hired’ muscle and intimidation as the brunette continued to recruit from your ranks. People were unsure of what was happening at first, but after the first mass execution a couple of days ago, they were beginning to fall in line or disappear.

Dean’s only helping because he wants to see you fail. He’d never really liked you and even after working for you for three years, his opinion hasn’t changed. He’d never sought out a group of people who felt the same, but he gravitated toward them as he came across them over the years. They’d all becomes friends and when they’d been approached about double-crossing you, they’d been cautiously optimistic. This was something they’d wanted for a while, but hadn’t been able to swing themselves.

Now with Hela’s help, they were much closer to having someone else in charge. Someone that would hopefully treat them better. That said, he’s currently exhausted, and as soon as he’s out of his heavy armor he collapses into his bed. He groans when his stiff muscles begin to relax as he closes his eyes. He thinks back to how busy these past few days have been. He’s spent a lot of time out and about helping Hela terrorize your still faithful employees. He’d even gone to your penthouse which is something he never thought he’d get the chance to do.

When he’d been told that he was going to hold your wife at gunpoint, he was a little reluctant. Not because he particularly cared about either of you, but he feared that his involvement would get him killed. He had not expected her to be the one to shoot first and ask questions later. The urge to hurt the three of them had been nagging at him the entire time they were there, but they’d been given orders to only shoot if you were uncooperative. After a short and sickeningly sweet conversation, you gave up your freedom to keep your wife, friends and dogs safe.

He had to hand it to you, it was brave coming back here to face Hela. She’d already alluded to your imminent demise, and he was surprised to see that you were here with very little protest. You must be thinking about your family, and hoping that you’ll get back to them at some point. However, as soon as Hela gets your empire back to it’s former glory, she’s going to get rid of you for good.

Hela frowns at the silly question before shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. She stands up and moves toward the monitors until she’s standing right in front of the one you must have seen. It’s your wife’s restaurant, at least a view from the street and it’s one of the first places she’d decided she wanted to monitor. The first was your penthouse. Her plan was to get your attention and she knew that this would be most effective by using those close to you. It took her a while to decide what she wanted to do. She’d wanted you in jail for whatever she planned because she knew it would make you feel helpless, but she’d eventually decided to spare Wanda’s life. She figured you’d be more compliant if she left her alive, and so far, you had been.

She hopes that you realize they won’t be alive for too much longer.

“You should know the answer to this, darling. You must use people’s weaknesses against them if you want to get your way.”

You’re not surprised, rather disappointed by this answer and you shake your head before offering a small smile.

“I didn’t forget.”

You don’t get a response as Hela turns back toward the screens in front of her and takes a few steps back. She looks at all of them and you wonder what’s on her mind, and if any of it is going to affect you.

“So what’s the next step? How are we going to revive my dying empire?”

Yelena’s scowling as she looks to the barbed whip in her sister’s hand with a shake of her head. They were working on finding a way to attack the bullet proof soldiers the next time they saw them, and they were going through their entire arsenal. They realize that they were going to have to rely on brute force to best the damn minions that Hela had been sending all over town. Nat had been trying to track them from a distance, and after an entire day of following them she’d found their homebase. Unfortunately, they would be very outnumbered if they tried to attack there. Nat had counted 8 of them coming and going in one day, and she couldn’t see inside so she wasn’t able to say what their odds would be.

“What about this?”

Nat turns to see her sister’s holding up a modern-day version of a flail that might just do the trick. Nat walks forward so she can inspect it and then she wracks her brain for whether or not she has enough of these types of things to face off with. She sighs before realizing that she’s going to have to go to her vault.

“That’s good, but I think we need to take a quick trip for something better.”

Wanda sighs as she tries again to pick up the pot in front of her. She’d been staring at it for twenty minutes since she put down Natalya for a nap, and she hadn’t even reached out for it. It wasn’t that her arms hurt that much. No it was mostly the fact that she hadn’t thought about cooking since the accident. That’s what she was calling it anyway, but it had rattled her enough to stick to using the microwave to prepare meals. This wasn’t that much of an inconvenience except when she wanted to cook breakfast, or the urge to bake made her wander around the kitchen.

For this reason, Wanda was trying to ease herself back into cooking, and the kitchen as a whole. Mostly the stove. You’d helped her a lot and her brother had too, but now that she was alone, at least for a little bit she had to try and do something for herself. She also knew that she couldn’t be afraid for too long. She loves cooking and she doesn’t want to lose that because of what Hela did to her. She’s placed a pot half full with water on the stove, and she just had to find the courage to turn it on. She wasn’t even sure what she would do with it, but she hadn’t really thought that far ahead. She was going to turn it on soon. She just needed another minute.

She startles when she feels a dog brush up against her leg, and she looks down to see Rogue watching her impatiently. She smiles at him before reaching down to pet his head with a sigh. She wishes you were here with her, but she supposes the next best moral support for this is her dog. She keeps one hand on Rouge as she reaches out to turn on the stove in front of her. Despite the desire to look away, she watches as the little flames turn on and she holds her breath and waits for something to happen. She lowers her arm because it’s starting to ache, and she just stands by watching until the water begins to boil. When it’s bubbling, Wanda smiles slightly before looking down to Rogue who’s still watching her closely. He licks her hand and whines before following her to the pantry.

“How about some hot chocolate, bud?”

Rogue watches her grab a mug and pour some powder into it with a sigh. She glances at her phone that she’d left beside the stove, and she has to resist the urge to check your location again. She’s never checked it so frequently and it felt stalkerish, but in this situation she believed that it was okay. Well, it wasn’t okay because it was driving her crazy knowing where you were and not being able to do anything to get closer to you. She considers how she’ll get you back as she takes her first sip. She hears Natalya fuss through the monitor a few seconds later, and she’s grateful for the distraction. She sets her mug down and heads toward the nursery only to find that Boone’s already there. She greets him with a quick scratch as she walks through the door to check on her mewling baby.

“What’s wrong, little one?”

Wanda watches as Natalya squirms and cries in distress, but she’s not sure why. She ate a little earlier so she must be lonely, and Wanda decides to sit with her for a while. She rocks her daughter on her lap as she talks to her in Sokovian for a while, and by the time she finishes she’s tearing up a little. She kisses her baby’s head before thinking about what you might be doing.

“Do you miss. Mom, little one? She’ll be home soon, I promise. Right now she’s…well it’s a little complicated sweetheart. She’s cutting ties with someone she used to know, but as soon as she’s done with that, she’ll be back to us. You’ll be excited to hear that she’s promised to be around for us more. You will have both of your moms around all day. You’ll be sick of us, but I’m very excited to have both of you home with me. I’ve missed it.

Once Nat’s settled again and fallen asleep, Wanda puts her back in her crib and carefully steps over Rogue as she heads back to the kitchen. Her hot chocolate is cold but she just heats it up in the microwave before finishing it off. She looks to her phone when it beeps and she smiles when she sees her brother’s texted her. She rolls her eyes before typing out a quick response. She decides that she needs to figure out what you’re up to soon. She’s going to give you a couple of hours before checking in again, but she’s not just going to sit around and wait for an update. She wanders down the hall and toward one of the extra bedrooms. You have so many that you don’t even use this one, or at least not for guests. Even if each of your friends wanted their own room, this one would stay untouched because it housed some of your many, many weapons.

Wanda sighs as she pushes the door open and switches on the light with a grimace. Her arms are aching from her time with Natalya, but she continues into the room and heads straight for the closet. She loved you a lot, and despite understanding your paranoia a little better now, she was still shocked sometimes by how much effort you put into hiding things. She switches on the light before sliding the door open and looking around the seemingly empty space. Nothing catches her eye immediately and she spends almost a full minute looking for the hidden panel that will open the very large safe room that you’d had built into this closet.

After entering the combination to the lock, she hears the telltale rumbling of the door unlatching and a second later it opens. Wanda’s grateful that it opens on its own because this door is very heavy. Wanda leaves it open behind her since she didn’t grab a baby monitor, and she steps inside the room that’s almost larger than the dog’s room. It’s filled with guns, ammunition, and other weapons that you’ve used over the years, but haven’t touched in a while. The large wooden desk in the back of the room is one you rarely used, and the couch that was mostly for the dogs also looked untouched.

Wanda had come in here primarily to look for a specific gun, but her eyes are drawn toward the series of pictures she’d put up in here. Initially, when you’d showed her the room, it had been wall to wall guns, and she’d immediately asked you to change this. Not only was it disturbing, but it was unsecure and a little excessive. You’d caved when your wife had promised to redecorate tastefully for you, and despite being a little anxious about it, Wanda hadn’t disappointed.

The series of pictures she’d had framed for you were of your two beloved dogs. Starting with them as puppies, Wanda had used some of the many, many pictures you’d captured of them over the years to show how they’d grown from small puppies, to your full-grown loyal companions. Before Natalya was born, you’d come in here sometimes and just look at the pictures and admire your dogs. After, you’d joked that you had an entire room dedicated to your dogs, and more pictures of them than your daughter in the house. Wanda decided to change this, but you both agreed that it was a little weird to put pictures of Natalya in here with your weapons.

Wanda looks away from a picture of Rogue and Boone wrestling when they were just puppies and turns toward the far wall behind your desk. Since she made you reorganize in here, there were nearly a dozen locked drawers that held specific types of guns. She was looking for one that you hadn’t used in years. She smiles widely as she puts in the code and waits to see the rifle that she wants to use on a particular brunette.

You take a deep breath as you stare at your hand with a longing look. You twirl the rings on your finger as you think about what tonight would bring. You’re exhausted and want to sleep despite passing out after being brought here, but you don’t feel safe. You had been led to a room that was surprisingly nice, but this did nothing to quell your fears of Hela coming to find you after you freshened up. You didn’t have a lock on the door, and you had no weapons nearby to protect yourself with. You were wearing clothes that were too large for you as you wait on the comfortable bed, and you feel yourself fading with each passing second. Your eyes flutter dangerously and you miss the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.

It's the sound of someone knocking that makes you sit up straight and tense in anticipation. Your achy muscles protest, but you do your best to ignore it as you turn to face whoever’s come to bother you.

You’re a little puzzled by the appearance of one of Hela’s armed minions, but you quickly realize you’d forgotten how much Hela liked wielding her authority like this. You remember how she’d had people run ridiculous errands for her, and the fact that this is one of those times makes you feel like you’re that scared 23-year-old who hadn’t known how to escape your tormenter.

You try to push these thoughts aside as you stand up and follow the brunette to wherever Hela was waiting for you.

Hela had considered a few different options for how she wanted tonight to go. She knew you still weren’t on board with any of this. You were mostly confused and homesick, but she decided that distraction was the most appropriate course of action for now. She remembers how easily distracted you were when she knew you, and just watching you these past few weeks has told her that you haven’t changed much in this regard.

She finishes putting her hair up and she stands with a sigh as she looks in the mirror. This month has been an exhausting one for her, and even though you’re not truly back yet, having you nearby makes her body feel like it can relax a little. She has to resist the urge to let her guard down though because she feels that you are still going to try and betray her. She hears footsteps coming down the hall and she makes sure her robe is tied before she turns toward the door with an impassive expression.

The resounding knock a few seconds later almost makes her smile.

“Come in.”

As you’re led down a long, dark hallway, you’re given plenty of time to consider what could be waiting for you on the other side of the door. You try to think of Wanda and your daughter at home as Dean stops in front of the door and knocks so loudly you almost flinch. You fiddle with your rings as you wait impatiently, anxious to figure out what Hela has planned. You consider every grizzly possibility that you can. You wonder if she’ll hurt you now, or if she’s going to make you hurt someone. Maybe she’ll--.

“Come in.”

As soon as the door is swung open, Dean turns to leave, but not before pushing you through it roughly. You consider spinning around and punching him in the face for putting his hands on you, but the door practically slams shut before you can even look over your shoulder. You scowl and listen to him walk away before your attention is pulled back to Hela who’s watching you wordlessly. The brunette can’t help but smile at the fight that she still sees in you. You turn around slowly prepared to ask her what she wants, but the sight of her makes you stop short. You’re sure your eyes widen in surprise, but that really only lasts for a moment before you feel your muscles tense in fear.

“Sit.”

Hela pats the spot beside her on the bed, and you just look at it for a few seconds before you force yourself to take the first step to close the distance. You hadn’t expected for Hela to greet you with barely any clothes on, and it was stressing you out. You sat down where she indicated, and if you sat a little further away than she wanted, you pretended not to notice. You focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet instead of the woman sitting next to you, but this only lasts for a few seconds before she starts talking. You look up to see her smiling at you and you feel something you can’t put a name to as Hela reaches out for you.

“I wanted to tell you something, Y/n.”

This isn’t a surprise to you, but you don’t dare say that as you notice the gun she has sitting on her bedside table. You just nod and wait for her to finish her thought. Your eyes start to wander to the dark purple silk that’s covering an undoubtedly insubstantial slip beneath. The color reminds you of the first person you’d killed, and you shudder at the memory of the poor drug addict. Hela misinterprets this but you don’t notice as you try to blink away the sight of the blood-soaked suit.

Hela sighs as she decides to be honest and see how you react to it. She has only one goal in mind, and that’s keeping your empire for herself. If she is able to keep you as well then she’ll be happy, but it’s not really a priority. She just has to make sure that if you stick around, you and the rest of your family stays out of her way.

“When I found you here a couple of months ago, I realized it was a chance for us to start over. Your business is struggling, but with my help, I know we can get it back on track.”

You try not to react to the feeling of her hand on yours, and you focus on her bright eyes that tell you that she’s plotting something. Still, you smile slightly at the thought of your business improving and making more money. When you first started, your goal was to make a name for yourself. You needed money, but there had been dozens of other options for an occupation other than mobster that you could have, and should have pursued. That said, when you arrived in Chicago, you’d decided to try and prove Hela wrong. She’d only told you that you were useless and couldn’t do anything for yourself for months, so you’d thought you’d try to show her. It was foolish and stubborn, and you should have known better than to do something so reckless.

You’d always loved food. Maybe you should have gone into the food industry, and there is a small chance you still would have met your wife.

You realize you haven’t responded when you feel Hela squeeze your hand, and you quickly nod before releasing the breath you’d been holding.

“I think…I think I’d like that."

Pietro frowns in confusion as he calls out for his sister again. He’d texted her to tell her that he would be by soon to check in and see if she needed help, but she hadn’t responded. He figured she might be resting, but as he wanders further into the penthouse, he realizes that might not be the case. The dogs that hadn’t greeted him at the elevator that he’d managed to get working just on card access, appear from a place where he doesn’t usually see them. Pietro holds out his hands for them to sniff, but they quickly get bored of him and go to their water bowl instead.

This leaves Pietro to check in the nursery for his sister, but neither she nor his niece are there and his frown deepens.

“Wanda?”

He checks outside first to see if Wanda’s relaxing out there with Natalya, but all he finds are the other three dogs lying around or wrestling. He walks back into the living room to see a tail disappear down a hallway, and he decides to follow it. He turns the corner just in time to see one of the dogs disappear into a bedroom that his sister doesn’t use. Pietro just thinks that his sister might be crashing somewhere else to try and not think about your absence, and he’s kind of right.

What awaits him is a confusing scene that takes him a bit to process. He watches Rogue head toward the couch where Wanda’s sitting with Natalya on her lap asleep. She looks near sleep too, but she hears him, or maybe her dog and she wakes up a little. She sits up and looks to her brother who’s looking around your secret room with a bewildered expression. Wanda hadn’t told him about this because she knew he wouldn’t approve. It honestly never came up, and since everything was either locked up or unloaded, it was perfectly safe for her to hang out in here, even if it’s a little odd.

“Hi Piet.”

Pietro’s attention turns back to his sister who’s making sure she hasn’t woken up her daughter before greeting her dog. Rogue sticks his nose in Wanda’s lap and sniffs Natalya before leaning against the couch with a yawn. They all look very comfortable, but Pietro’s still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this room even exists.

“Hey, Wands. This is…new?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Wanda still shakes her head as her brother wanders over to the free seat at the end of the couch. He sits down as Wanda glances around the room once again before sighing in defeat. She isn’t sure why she felt the urge to hang out in here. It didn’t make a lot of sense given how she felt about your job, but she had to admit it was a nice room, albeit a little unsettling if she thought too much about it.

“Not really. She’s had this here basically since moving in.”

Wanda just smiles at her brother’s awestruck look as he continues to look around at the many weapons that are probably worth more than she wants to think about. He has to resist the urge to stand up and go touch, and instead he focuses on the other Maximoffs.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know this was here. It’s so cool.”

Wanda rolls her eyes but she doesn’t stop her brother from reaching out for Natalya and holding her in his arms. He kisses his niece’s forehead before leaning back against the couch beside Boone. He’s resting his head on his sister’s leg, and he moves a little closer once her lap is freed up, but Rogue beats him to it. He jumps up onto the couch beside Wanda and plops down on top of her with a huff. Wanda can’t help but smile as she reaches out to scratch him.

“Y/n would be happy to hear you say that.”

Pietro smiles as he bounces Natalya in his arms gently enough to not wake her up. Wanda watches carefully as she glances to her phone on the table that she must not have heard earlier.

“Sorry I didn’t answer. I’m just trying to relax, and not think about what she’s up to.”

Wanda frowns at the thought and it doesn’t take Pietro long to figure out what she’s talking about. He’s only wondered what you were up to multiple times today, but any prolonged consideration made him too angry. He wanted you to wrap things up and come back to his sister, but he knew things were a little more complicated than that. He just had to wait until everything was in place, and give you a little more time before they decided to speed things up.

Pietro knew his sister well enough to realize that she was coming up with a plan of her own as well. The fact that she was in here might be an escape now, but she wouldn’t come in here, of all the other rooms in her house, if she wasn’t looking for something. Pietro hoped it was a gun that would wipe Hela off the face of the Earth.

Pietro tries to reassure his sister that you’re doing your best to get back to her and Natalya. He has to believe this or else he’ll spiral and get angry all over again. He’s doing his best to give you the benefit of the doubt, and it’s not even that difficult in this case. He knows how much you love your family, and leaving them isn’t an option.

He shifts little Nat in his arms before shooting his sister a smile.

“I’m sure she’s working hard to get back here, sestra.”

You’re near sweating in your uncomfortable clothes as you and Hela sit facing each other at the end of her bed. She’s still holding your hand and you can tell it’s getting a little gross as you try to predict what Hela’s going to do next. Since telling her that you wouldn’t be opposed to returning your empire to its former glory, she hasn’t said anything. She’d only hummed in response and continued to hold your hand as she tried to read you. She hated to admit it, but she was out of practice and therefore not nearly as good at guessing your intentions. You’re still stiff and you look very uncomfortable as you resign yourself to your fate. You realize that the fact you’re even sitting here with Hela means that she wants something from you. It’s not a difficult conclusion to come to, but you’re usually slow to figure things out and you nearly kick yourself at the realization.

You’re going to have to give her what she wants if you hope to save your family from any further harm.

Hela watches as you deflate with a heavy sigh and a slow smile creeps onto her lips. You turn your hand over in hers before squeezing it gently. You are trying not to cry as you think about your wife at home and how much you miss her. It hasn’t even been a day, but you don’t see the end of this anywhere near.

“Will you show me how?”

Hela’s wide smile is borderline creepy, but you force yourself to look at it as something that’s comforting. She’s going to do this for you because it’s really what she wants. If she gets your compliance at the same time she’s killed two birds with one stone, and more importantly, to her at least, she’s going to figure out how to return to power.

You’re mostly dissociating when Hela leans forward and presses her lips against yours. You stiffen because you can’t help it, but you manage not to pull away before Hela does. She eyes you critically before smirking at your flushed face. She leans back before humming thoughtfully. This is going to be interesting.

“Let’s go to sleep, darling. Tomorrow we’ll get to work.”

Bucky’s in the bedroom changing when he hears the front door slam shut. He’d been waiting for Natasha for a while, so he’s quick to greet her despite his slight limp. He opens his mouth to speak, but he stops short at the sight of his girlfriend with a large chest full of something heavy and metal. Nat groans as she sets it down and sits on it with a sigh. She’s sweating but she has a smile on her face as she looks down at the giant chest of weapons that she’d picked for their next encounter with the damned armored minions.

“Hey there.”

Bucky watches as Nat stands up before kicking the chest closer to the wall with a sigh. She looks to the brunette and kisses his cheek before gesturing to her haul.

“Hey. Look at what I found.”

Bucky watches as Nat opens the chest and he takes in the sight of the weapons that look heavier than anything the redhead usually went for. This tells him immediately that she’s found what she was looking for to combat Hela’s guards, and he reaches out to grab one of the maces with a smile.

“This might just work.”

Despite her best efforts, Wanda finds herself on the rooftop not two hours after going to bed that night. She’d let both of her shepherds sleep in the bedroom with her, and she hadn’t even kicked Rouge out of bed when he jumped up about an hour after she’d turned off the lights. She had tried to sleep but she only tossed and turned each time her mind wandered to you and what you could be doing. She hated sleeping alone, but the fact that you were with Hela, possibly sleeping with Hela was making it impossible for her to relax.

She trusted you when you told her you would do your best to come home to her and Natalya soon. She hadn’t asked you for details, or maybe she had, she can’t remember, but you hadn’t been very specific about how you’d manage this. You told her that you would try to keep anything worse than you being beaten from happening, but this was hardly reassuring. She thought this in itself was horrible and it made her wonder what you considered better than this. Would you let her touch you? Would you drink with her? As Wanda laid in bed fretting over this, she realized that she needed to find a distraction.

She’d practically jumped out of bed, not even noticing how she’d startled Rogue awake as she hurried for the bedroom door. She’d barely remembered to grab the baby monitor before she ventured toward the dogs’ room and out to the roof. She realized belatedly that her shepherds were following her, and she’d held the door open for them so they could all escape out into the cool night air.

Now that they’re all sitting on the couch, Wanda breathes in deeply before wiping the tears from her eyes. She grimaces as she’s reminded that she forgot to take her meds before bed, but she doesn’t have the energy to correct this now. She’s too preoccupied thinking about what could be happening to you, and she does her best to convince herself that you’re just sleeping. She wants to believe that you won’t let Hela do anything to you, but she really can’t pretend to know what Hela’s true intentions are.

If she was being particularly pessimistic, she would say that Hela wants you back, and that once she gains your loyalty she’ll come after her and the rest of your family. She would be shocked if she was allowed to live which is why she’s not going to let this happen. She’d ended the day downstairs in the basement at the gun range because she couldn’t help herself. She just needed to reassure herself that even with her injured arms she could still shoot well. It had been painful and she was paying for it now, but it did the trick and only 15 minutes after leaving the condo she was back upstairs. She put the gun back in your weapons room, and showered before crawling into bed.

Now that she’d convinced herself that she could shoot Hela, she just had to figure out how she’d track her down. She had a bad feeling you wouldn’t be home this week, and she was going to have to bring you back herself. She’d consult with both Bucky and Steve once she had a more concrete plan, but she would need to have a little more sleep before she thinks about that.

She stares up at the stars with a sigh before shaking her head. She frowns at the feeling of uselessness that’s overwhelmed her for the past day. She wasn’t useless and she wasn’t going to let you be the only one working to get you back home. She’s sure your friends are trying to figure it out too, but she’s your wife and she’ll be damned if she just sits around and waits for someone to tell her what to do.

Wanda reaches out for Rogue who’s sitting beside her, and she pets his head for a minute as she contemplates her next move. If she weren’t on pain killers, she would have had something to drink by now. She would have to stop by her brother’s to get anything, but she could justify bothering him for alcohol given the circumstances. She decides that alcohol would only make her feel better for a few hours, so it’s not really worth it. She thinks about what you would say too and she immediately feels guilty for even thinking about it.

She knows that you’d be understanding, and despite not touching a drop of alcohol for years, you’d want her to do whatever made her feel better. She knew that your experience with alcohol would keep her from ever developing a problem, but that didn’t mean she wanted to resort to getting drunk to feel better. She’d learned over the years that the best thing to do is be productive instead. If she wanted to feel better about something, she had to do something about it, and this is what she decides to do.

You don’t sleep a wink that night. You had a feeling this would happen, and despite how frustrating it is, you don’t feel safe enough to let your guard down. You’re lying in bed less than a foot away from Hela and you’re tense from head to toe in anticipation. You keep waiting for the brunette to wake up and smother you or something, or maybe try to touch you in her sleep. You can’t risk falling asleep because then you’re completely helpless and that’s not something you’re comfortable with.

You try to figure out what Hela’s going to want you to do tomorrow, and at the same time you wonder what your wife is up to. Hopefully she’s asleep right now, but knowing her it’s not a restful sleep. You feel guilty about this on top of everything else, and you sigh heavily briefly forgetting your fear of waking Hela up. You roll onto your side and face the door with a frown as you consider how much longer you’ll have to be here. You try to think about your wife and the rest of your family. You consider what life could be like for all of you if you get away from Hela, from all of this.

You don’t know if Wanda would be willing to leave her restaurant behind, but you don’t think about that now. Instead, you imagine you and your wife living in a secluded house deep in the mountains. Maybe you’d leave the country, and go to Europe. Maybe you could live in a villa somewhere in Italy, far, far away from this life.

You don’t realize that you’ve fallen asleep until you wake up the next morning. You probably weren’t asleep for more than a couple of hours when the sound of someone calling your name wakes you. You jump in surprise and it takes you a few seconds to remember where you are. You frown and then sigh heavily as you sit up with a groan. You are exhausted and your eyes sting as you look to Hela who’s holding something in front of her. You watch her set down a tray of food that you have to admit smells good.

“Good morning, darling. Eat up, we’re going to have a busy day.”

You glance at the food briefly before turning to the bottle of orange juice that sits beside the glass that’s already half full. You are hesitant to eat any of this because you don’t trust Hela not to try and drug you. You do your best to stall as you shoot her a questioning look before asking what you’d stressed over all last night.

“What’s on the agenda for today?”

Hela doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she reaches for the glass of juice and hands it to you with an expectant look. You take a sip to appease her, but it’s small and only tastes of orange juice. Still, you don’t let this fool you and you hand it back to her quickly. She doesn’t object and she reaches for the plate of food that you’re not going to eat much of if any.

“We’re going to pay a friend a visit.”

If your appetite hadn’t been stolen by the fact that Hela’s supposedly prepared food for you, it certainly would have been obliterated by the news of who you were going to visit. You don’t bother hiding your reaction, but you try to mask your concern with confusion. You aren’t sure how Hela figured out your limited, but important relationship with Tony. He was the first one who believed in you enough to invest in your future with the mob. You saw him as an uncle figure at times because he was almost a decade older than you were, and he was one of the only people who would tell you that you were in the wrong.

Well, that was until you met your wife.

Tony was the one who helped you become a mobster, and you’d told him that he was the one who would find out first that you were going to quit. You’d decided that if you ever wanted out of your profession, you would tell Tony first. This was mostly out of professional courtesy, and the fact that he would need to be prepared for your departure. He would need to figure out how to control the backlash and be prepared to recover from it. You joked that you would take him out for a nice dinner to break the news, but then he’d begun to expect it.

You wonder how this meeting will fall short of his expectations.

“He’s expecting us a little later. I wanted to introduce you to my team here before we go.”

You hold back the frown that threatens at the thought of meeting the same group you did last night. You’d decided that they were the ones who had been sent to your house to threaten your family. You would like to punch them in the face, but you’re going to have to play nice. For now, at least.

“Okay, I’ll get ready.”

You failed to realize that getting ready meant showering and putting on your dirty, wrinkled clothes. It was either this or some of Hela’s clothes and you refused to do that for multiple reasons. You’d look even more ridiculous than you do now because she’s so much taller than you. You try to ignore the stress headache brewing behind your eyes as you follow Hela out of your room to see what awaits you.

Yelena curses as she ducks down when a car passes by her, and pulls into the driveway of the glorified frat house that she and her sister are staking out. Their goal was to figure out how to take out some of Hela’s ranks so she can’t use them in an attempt to keep you away from your family. She had been staking out this place all day, and she’d seen close to ten people come and go, all dressed and ready to terrorize people.

Yelena had to resist the urge to shoot some of the dumber ones that didn’t have their helmets on, but she didn’t want to give herself up too quickly. She needed the element of surprise, and for this she had Nat looking into what their security was like. Hopefully they would be able to take them out relatively easily while Steve and Bucky dealt with tailing you and making sure you weren’t being tortured by Hela.

When her phone rings, Yelena almost jumps but she simply curses before answering it quickly.

“What, what is it?”

She hadn’t even looked at the caller ID. She was focused on how easy it was for one of the minions to get back into the frat house, and she finds herself smiling until she hears the voice on the other end of the line.

“Excuse you? I’ve figured out how to take out the middle men, but if you don’t care…”

Yelena curses loudly before shaking her head and apologizing before her fiancée could go on. She was helping her with surveillance now since Nat was trying to team up with Bucky to figure out how to get to you sooner rather than later.

“Sorry, sorry. What did you find out my wonderful future wife?”

She can imagine the eye roll that accompanies the loud sigh that Kate releases at her question. She doesn’t bother to address this now because she knows time is of the essence. She looks at her watch and decides that they have about an hour to make this work if they want to do it today. The lack of news from you or Hela even is stressing everyone out, and it’s encouraging everyone to go forward with their own plans. Wanda’s working on her own certainly, but your friends are also trying to figure out how to eliminate as many threats to the family while they figure out how to get you back.

“We’re going to have to move quickly, Lena, but I think we have a shot at this.”

The trip downtown to where Tony’s office is located is an agonizingly slow one. You are sitting in the back seat of the car silently stewing over how rude the minions were to you earlier. You have no power over them and they know this, so they treat you like dirt. As annoying at it is, you’re not going to fight anyone on it because it’s so low priority for you. Your main concern is getting home and making sure that you and your family aren’t any worse for wear from this horrible experience.

“I think I should do all of the talking when we meet him.”

You’re not surprised, but you are disappointed to hear this and you just nod before deciding that this might be useful. Tony knows you well and you’re hoping your silence, your deference to Hela will tell him more than whatever comes out of the brunette’s mouth. You wonder what Hela’s planning on telling him, but given how you’re almost there you know you won’t have to wonder for long.

She’s going to throw you under the bus though. You know that for sure.

You ignore the slight nausea and headache that’s been bothering you since breakfast and close your eyes to try and relax until you get there. You briefly wonder what Wanda’s up you, but you’re distracted by the car coming to a sudden stop. You’re only worried for a second before you hear the driver’s voice through the opening divider.

“They’re asking for identification, ma’am.”

You’d almost forgotten how paranoid your friend was, and you actually smile at the reminder. You don’t have any identification on you since you left it all knowing that you’d be stuck here. You realize it’s not important because once the window’s rolled down and someone takes a look at you, you’re cleared to head inside. You drive a little further to a parking spot before you’re led out into the impressive building. You used to think that Tony’s design choice for this place was ridiculous. You’ve made fun of him in the past for flaunting his wealth, but you’d take all of this back today if he asked because you’re relieved to see a friendly face.

Tony meets you and Hela at the door, and you don’t miss how his gaze falls to the two bodyguards that are more for Hela’s benefit than yours. You offer him a smile but don’t get a chance to do anything else before Hela is speaking. You stop in your tracks as Hela offers her hand to Tony along with a smile that you’re sure is fake.

“Mr. Stark, thank you for making the time to see me today.”

Since no one but Tony can see you, you roll your eyes before letting your expression match your displeasure. You knew you were just here as a formality, but you didn’t want her to insult you in front of your friend. Tony’s gaze didn’t leave Hela’s but you can tell that he sees your reaction, and he smiles before shaking Hela’s hand. He looks to you as he waves you both to follow him to the nearest conference room. He hates to do business standing up, and you aren’t surprised to find drinks waiting for you.

“Of course, you made it sound worth my while. Plus, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen this one.”

You don’t comment, but you smile as you follow after Hela and take a seat beside her. You purposely pull your seat away from hers so you don’t have to sit too close to her, and luckily she doesn’t seem to care. You watch as Tony sits down too and looks to you first before addressing Hela with a healthy amount of skepticism. You’d fear for his safety if he weren’t in his building, and he wasn’t still important to Hela’s plan. However, he still has use to her so you just try to hide your amusement.

“So what’s the deal with the rumors going around that say you’re taking over things?”

You hold your breath as you wait for Hela to reply. You don’t dare look away from Tony as you hear Hela sit up and sigh dramatically. You don’t even need to hear what she says next to know that it’s going to be critical of you in several ways.

“Y/n has admitted that she’s let her work slip in recent years, especially since getting married, and she’s asked me to take over. She’ll be assisting, but mostly in the background.”

And maybe a lie or two as well.

This time Tony doesn’t hide his confusion as he looks to you only to find that you’re staring at your hands. He doesn’t speak immediately because he’s tossing around what Hela just said and trying to make sense of it. When you eventually look up you see that Tony’s sat back in his chair and his arms are crossed as he studies you with a frown. You have a feeling you know what’s coming next, but you don’t let on as you wait as patiently as possible for Tony to catch on.

“This is really how you decide to tell me this, Y/n? I thought you’d go all out.”

You have to hold back your grin in response as you just shrug and shoot him an apologetic look.

“Sorry to disappoint, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t argue or even really respond to this, and the next half hour is Hela talking to him like you’re not even there. You listen a little, but Hela’s told you most of her plan at this point, so you’re not super interested in listening again. You know she plans to completely rebuild everything to her own liking, but you don’t even care. You’re hoping she won’t get that fair.

You catch yourself almost falling asleep as you sit beside Hela and you frown as you force yourself to sit up and try to pay attention. You realize that this makes your head hurt even more than before, and you sigh inaudibly before closing your eyes and trying to block out what your friend and Hela are saying.

You wonder what your family is up to. Is everyone mad at you? You know them well enough to guess that they are at the very least irritated with you. You’re certain that they are all making their own plans to get you back home, and you are honestly glad. You are realizing that your plan to go along with Hela until she trusts you won’t work. You overestimated how important you were to her plans, and she honestly just needed you here with Tony to prove that you were on board with your forced retirement.

You’re shocked when it’s time to leave and Tony hugs you goodbye. He’s only hugged you maybe three times before, but you do your best to pretend like it’s normal. You hug him back briefly, but break away first so Hela doesn’t get too mad. You tell him you might see him around before you step outside and follow Hela to the car. You squint as the sun hits you and immediately makes you flinch from the pain in your skull.

Of all days to have a stress headache. You can’t even take anything for it, and its not like you’d trust Hela to give you anything for it that would actually help. You try not to think about it much as you slide into the back seat and get buckled. You’re startled by the sound of the door slamming far harder than necessary, but you don’t get to open your eyes and see what’s wrong before Hela’s got you in her grasp. You hiss in surprise and then pain as she shoves you against the door causing you to hit your head against the window. You curse under your breath and then stiffen once you realize she’s pinning you there, waiting until the car starts before she speaks up.

“I told you not to say a word.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you wait for her to instruct you to speak. You figure she’ll want you to be your old obedient self now that it’s just you two again, and she doesn’t fail to meet your expectations. Eventually you shake your head before responding through gritted teeth.

“So you wanted me to say nothing, even as he talked to me? That wouldn’t have made him suspicious.”

Hela doesn’t even bother responding to this as she releases her hold on you but roughly enough that you hit your head on the window again. You curse her in your head in all the languages you know before turning to confirm that she’s moved away from you. You hope that you’re going back to the hideout so you can be away from Hela, but you’re sure that would be too lucky. You instead have a feeling you’ll be running more errands with her now that she has Tony’s support.

Wanda’s waiting anxiously for her friends to update her on how this afternoon went. She’d spent most of the day trying to not check in on you and stay in touch with her friends, but it was difficult to do. Everyone was busy, and she had been practically ordered to stay in the penthouse which was fine by her, for now. She took care of Natalya, and spent time with her dogs but she was getting restless. Not having you home, and worse, not knowing what you were up to with Hela was causing her to take more of your meds than she should.

She’s just starting to feel a little more relaxed when she hears her phone ring from somewhere beside her. She sighs as she reaches blindly for it and answers without bothering to see who it is.

“Hello?”

Wanda’s quick to sit up when she realizes who’s calling, and she has to stop herself from crying tears of joy.

“Mrs. Wanda Maximoff. Tony Stark here. I was wondering if you have time to discuss bringing your wife home.”

You don’t know what’s happened, but as soon as you and Hela return to her hideout you realize something’s wrong. People are running around and looking frantic in a way that immediately sets you on edge. You walk slowly behind Hela who asks the first person she finds what’s going on. You try to eavesdrop, but you’re too far away and too nervous to creep closer. You are glad you’re out of reach when Hela stiffens and turns back to you with a face like thunder. You resist the urge to step back as you wait and see what’s happened.

“Follow me.”

You don’t dare protest, and you slowly head up the stairs in what feels like a walk to the electric chair. Hela’s incredibly tense and her scowl sends anyone within sight running in the opposite direction. You feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as Hela leads you through the door to the room you’ve been staying in. She barely lets you walk through before she’s slamming the door behind you and locking it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You don’t have a response to this because you have no idea what she’s talking about. Whatever someone told her, you’re sure you didn’t have a role in it. That said, Hela clearly feels differently and you resist the urge to immediately deny her as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What do you mean?”

The blow doesn’t surprise you as much as it hurt, and you barely resist the urge to curse as your head whips to the side from the force of the slap. You taste blood but you manage to ignore it as you turn and face Hela once again. You seem to remember that looking away from her will only lead to more pain, and you meet her gaze with a cautious look. Unsurprisingly she looks pissed, but until she tells you what’s wrong you’re not going to have any idea how to answer her question.

You don’t have to wait long and you yelp in surprise when Hela has you up against the door before you can even take a breath. You stiffen and have to resist the urge to fight back when she squeezes your throat and makes breathing near impossible.

“Don’t be obtuse. I know you sent your friends to take them out. I should have killed them when I had the chance.”

Hela releases her grip on your neck because despite enjoying the sight of you struggling to breathe, suffocating you would be too easy. She wants you to suffer and this means dragging out whatever punishment she thinks fits the crime of you having all of her minions blown up.

You swallow a cough as you shake your head and try to figure out what Hela’s talking about. You certainly didn’t order a hit, not that you’d have the ability to right now, so someone else must be taking matters into their hands. It didn’t take a lot of thought to realize that your friends weren’t waiting around for you to come back. You just hoped that their efforts hastened your escape, and didn’t lead to too much pain for you.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hela is unsurprisingly not satisfied with this answer and she just scoffs before grabbing you by your shirt and dragging you out the door. You don’t know where she’s taking you, but you figure you don’t want to know and you try to shake her off with limited success. She ends up back handing you so hard you stumble against the wall and barely keep yourself standing. You’re not sure you’re able to hide the fear in your eyes as you glare at her. She simply glares back as she takes you by the wrist and yanks you along. You don’t fight this time because her words send a chill down your spine that is impossible to ignore.

“Fine. I’ll just have to refresh your memory as I’m punishing you for it.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #mob au #the flip side #the flip side au

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