#anyways i did nothing but watch this season all day and i pretty much loved it so now i have a severe emotional hangover

[pinknightsinmymind]

thinking of abby whispering sweet nothings to you while you’re deep throating her strap.. I need to be sedated.

【 look so pretty from up here - abby anderson | NSFW 】

abby anderson x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

content: porn without plot, farmer!abby, established relationship, wife!abby x wife!reader, slight dom/sub dynamics, size kink bc abby likes towering over you when you're on your knees, strap-sucking, strap-on usage(r!receiving), face-fucking kinda, clitoral stimulation(r!receiving), slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, breeding kink, calling the strap a dick/cock, use of pet names(baby, love, honey, etc.), maybe some SLIGHT masochism, okay some cervix-kissing for fun, aftercare

a/n: oh anon you're a genius. so um this took me a while to write lmao. ik you didn't ask for it but you're getting farmer!abby with this so pls enjoy. this au was inspired by @jupiter-va and their farmer audios and something me and @moodywyrm came up with one fateful, summer day. anyways, i hope you enjoy it!

Abby’s eyes never once left you as you began to kneel on the wooden flooring in front of her. She could feel her breath shortening as she watched your knees touch the floor, the way your eyes glistened when you looked up at her. She’s feeling drunk already, so enraptured with the way you looked obeying and submitting to her so easily. Maybe she had planned this out starting earlier today when she saw you cooking in the kitchen, saw how hard you were working, and the only thing on her mind was pleasing you all night. And maybe she already had her strap waiting underneath her sweatpants for you. She grabbed onto the waistband and pulled them down her legs, and your eyes widened when her strap was revealed to you.

Abby was looking down at you from where she stood now, and you loved the way she looked. You loved looking up at her, the position on your knees creating a delicious power dynamic. She towered over you immensely like this, and it made you feel so overpowered. You felt like you were at her mercy, and that’s what made the throbbing between your legs so intense. She wasn’t going to fuck you just yet, something you both knew, but what Abby also knew was just how much you got off on sucking her strap. You loved every second of it, loved the way she felt in your mouth.

It’s not like she’d feel it—unless she had one of those days where she had a case of phantom dick, then maybe she would—but, God, did you love to act like she could. The way you looked with your lips wrapped around her strap was obscene, and she could never get enough of it. The sight, the sounds you made, the way you loved being teased, it all overwhelmed her. It made her dizzy, her mind hazy with power and all the things she wanted to do to you. Sometimes when her days didn’t go right, or if she had a difficult time during planting season, she liked to take it out on your throat. It made for a good stress relief, especially when she got to fuck your cunt afterwards knowing her strap was covered in your spit.

Abby was prodding your lips with her strap now, watching how your eyes widened at the sight of her before you. She knew you were getting wet from just this alone, knew the filthy thoughts going through your head with each passing second.

“C’mon. Open up,” she ordered. You did as she said, and she nearly moaned from the sight of your lips wrapped around her strap alone. You slowly swirled your tongue around the tip, then kissed it a little afterwards. You licked up the side of her strap’s shaft, looking directly into Abby’s eyes as you did so. “Fuck,” she hissed. She couldn’t help it. You knew what you were doing, knew the perfect moments to look her in the eyes, knew just what it took to drive her crazy. After teasing her a bit, you returned your lips to the head of her strap and started taking it into your mouth. The tip isn’t hard to take—it never is—but it’s when you start taking in more of it that the challenge starts. Abby’s filling your mouth up, taking over your senses, as her cock sinks in and you’re brought closer and closer to her pelvis. Her hand rests gently at the top of your head as she helps guide the strap deeper into your mouth. “Jus’ like that,” she breathed. Seeing the way her strap has almost completely disappeared into your mouth was making her breaths get shallow. You were looking up at her the entire time with wide eyes as she sheathed herself deeper and deeper into your mouth. You were almost there, almost had all of it in your mouth, and Abby was growing increasingly impatient. She just wanted to jerk her hips already, to grab onto your hair and give you what you both wanted, but she needed to hold on. She needed you to get adjusted before she could do just that.

The seconds that passed were dripping heavily with anticipation until she was finally where she wanted to be. Her strap was all the way down your throat, the tip of your nose almost pressing against her mons pubis. She heard a small gag followed by a whimper leave your mouth. She found herself rubbing her thumb across your cheek following the sound.

“It’s alright, baby, you can take it. You can take it, right?” she teased. You pathetically tried to nod your head, but she knew just from the desperate look in your eyes that you could. “Yeah, I know you can. You’re gonna take me down that pretty throat of yours, right?” She stroked your cheek so softly as she watched you, and she didn’t miss at all how you squeezed your thighs together. “I want you to suck it yourself before I give you what you want, so you better start now.” The words had barely left Abby’s mouth before you were bobbing your head on her strap, taking her into your throat so deeply with each movement. The cries and gags leaving your mouth were so addictive to Abby, and she found herself groaning in unison with them. There was drool leaking down the sides of your lips, tears brimming your eyes already, and Abby was so in love with the sight.

“Look at that,” she gasped. “Takin’ me so good. Yeah, take it, baby. Look so good with your pretty lips around me.” You grabbed onto Abby’s thighs to ground yourself as you deep throated her strap, so content to have her so far into your mouth. You moaned a little at the feeling of her touching the back of your throat, another gag leaving your lips. Abby felt so overwhelmed, and she was so close to just grabbing your hair and fucking your face. She hissed when you looked up into her eyes after taking her into your mouth again. The friction was just enough to rub against her clit every once in a while, and it felt so good. Fuck it, she thought. She couldn’t help herself anymore, and she had been patient long enough.

She grabbed onto your hair and began to glide your mouth up and down her strap. She was groaning even more now, loving the way you surrendered almost immediately. The noises leaving your lips were so dirty, but she loved every single one like the notes of a melody. Your hands had released their grip on her thighs, which allowed her to move you even more freely like she wanted.

“Fuck, baby, jus’ like that. Love takin’ my cock down your throat, huh? Love when I fuck your face like this?” Abby heard a moan leave your lips, and at first she thought it was one of the typical ones you made while sucking her strap, until another one left your lips. And another. And then a whimper. Abby looked down, and noticed immediately the hand you slipped underneath the waistband of your panties. She felt her arousal shoot through her body, her pleasure intensifying in seconds. “You’re gettin’ off on this?” she asked. This wasn’t news to her, as you usually did get off when the two of you did this, but seeing and hearing you touch yourself as she was down your throat always drove her crazy. “Yeah, keep doin’ that, baby. Touch yourself all you want while you take me. You deserve it for bein’ so good, for lettin’ me use you like this.” The harness was still rubbing against her clit, and everything about this moment was just bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Your knees were hurting as the wooden flooring dug into them, but you didn’t care. You’d stay here for as long as it took, no matter how many tears fell down your face. The pain made it feel good—better, even—as you kept circling your clit. The pleasure Abby felt was unmatched, and seeing how teary your eyes were encouraged her to keep bucking her hips. She was moaning uncontrollably, so taken by every moment of this.

“Want you to cum from sucking me off,” she moaned. “Can you do that? Huh? Will you do that for me, princess?” She didn’t need you to say anything else because she knew you would. You were always so good for her, and she could tell by the choked moans leaving your lips that you were getting closer. “Jus’ take me for a li’l while longer, baby,” she breathed. “I’m almost there.” She was thrusting her hips into your mouth so messily, unable to keep her cool in the face of her release. The pleasure shooting through her body was hot as it pooled in her stomach, clouding her brain the closer she was to the verge of cumming. With a few more thrusts, she found herself moaning loudly as soon as her climax hit her. It was intense, and her hips slowed down as it washed over her and her body. She felt so, so good, unable to speak as her mind went blank. You were still fucking yourself in the midst of all this, feeling yourself getting needy and desperate from watching your wife cum. You knew how close you were, quickening your pace to reach it faster. Abby’s hips finally stilled, and she pulled her strap out of your mouth. Seeing as Abby had just finished her climax, you knew she would soon turn her attention towards you, so you removed your hands from your panties. Abby, however, noticed this immediately, and didn’t seem to appreciate it.

“Uh-huh. What are you doin’?” She crouched down to be at your level. “Did I say you could stop? I want you to finish.” You looked into her eyes as you returned your hands to their previous place, the moans leaving your lips almost immediately. You’d be good. You’d be good just for her, finding yourself only encouraged further with the way her eyes were boring into you. You never thought you’d be so into Abby watching you like this, but it made all the bliss you felt that much more intense. “Tell me how good you feel, love,” she instructed, caressing your face so gently.

“I feel so good,” you whimpered. Your voice was raspy as you spoke, but you didn’t care. The fire in your stomach was so intense with the way Abby stared into your eyes, the way she looked your body up and down. “I like that you’re watching me.” You could barely get the words out as you moaned, your orgasm building and building.

“You like that I’m watchin’?” she repeated. “God, you’re dirty, but you’re so perfect. Perfect jus’ for me.” She kissed your cheeks that were wet with tears, her lips skirting over your skin with her warmth. Her kisses traveled from your cheeks to your neck, sucking on the skin and leaving behind purplish-red marks. You were close, and you were just about to cum, until Abby grabbed onto your wrist.

“Abs, I was gonna—”

“I know you were,” she said cockily, “that’s why I stopped you. How about I take over? Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you answered.

“Take my hand, then,” she said in a low voice, “and put me where you want me.” Her hand was warm as you took it into yours, leading it past the waistband of your panties and placing it on your clit. You spread your legs wider to accommodate her and so she could have better access to your cunt. “So wet,” she whispered, before finally circling her fingers around you. She chuckled when she heard the desperate whines leaving your lips. You could feel yourself getting closer again from just her touch. Your body was heating up, your orgasm building and building as you grinded against Abby’s fingers. It wouldn’t take much more for you to cum. “Don’t even worry about askin’ for my permission,” Abby spoke up. “You’ve been so good for me, so cum when you’re ready.” Her words just spurred you on, encouraging you to reach your orgasm faster.

“Fuck,” you swore. Abby’s touch was electric, and she was touching you just right. You could feel the fire was close to consuming you. Just a few more, and—You could feel yourself cumming then and there. Your moans were loud and desperate as your orgasm overcame you, unable to control them when you were cumming so hard.

“Yeah?” she asked teasingly. “Jus’ like that. Jus’ what I wanted from you, honey.” When you finally came down, Abby removed her hands from your panties and licked her fingers. “Did so good for me, love.” She gave your lips a soft peck. A devious smile spread across her lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” Her fingers grabbed onto the waistband of your panties, toying it between her fingers, pulling it away from your skin before letting it go again. “Tell me you want it. You want me inside you?”

“Abby, please. Don’t tease me. I just wanna feel you so bad.” Your hand gripped onto her forearm as you looked at her with pleading eyes. You couldn’t handle her teasing anymore.

“It’s alright, baby, I got you. Let me get you in bed.” Abby stood up and without any effort pulled you to your feet with her. You got onto the bed without hesitation and let your body rest against the soft covers and pillows, a nice reprise in comparison to the hard, wooden floors. The bed dipped underneath Abby’s weight as she joined you shortly after, her hands reaching out to grab onto your panties. You lifted your hips up to help her pull them down your body, and once she had them off you, she deftly climbed over your body. She was hovering over you as she pulled your t-shirt off next, kissing all the way up from your stomach to your lips. As she kissed you, you could feel her fingers running through your folds before inserting two of them inside you. You gasped into her mouth at the suddenness, but not before long you were moaning instead. She was rocking them inside you so good, filling you up and relishing in your wetness. “Fuck, took me so easily,” she whispered. “I think you’re ready for my cock. What d’you think?”

“I’m ready, Abs. Just put it inside me.”

“You sound so desperate, baby, but it’s okay. I always give you what you want, don’t I?” She pulled her fingers out of you, but not before grabbing onto her strap and lining it up with your entrance. You placed your hands on her shoulders, feeling Abby slowly thrust her way into you. Abby made eye contact with you as she did so, her hips getting closer to yours the farther she sunk into you. She could see your face twisting from the intrusion, and she was careful not to hurt you. All she wanted was for you to feel good. Finally, her hips were flush against yours, her strap all the way inside you. She let out a sigh at the feeling, feeling herself get turned on at the thought of thrusting inside you.

“Are you ready for me to move?” she asked, and you nodded. “I shouldn’t have to remind you. Words, love.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Need to feel you.”

“I got ya, baby, don’t worry.” She started moving her hips against yours, and you found your arms wrapping around her neck in response. Her thrusts were slow and steady, but they had the right amount of force to knock the breath out of your lungs. She was dragging against your walls just right, the tip of her cock hitting just the right spot. Everything she did was just right. You couldn’t help the cries leaving your lips at how good you felt. “I know, I know,” she comforted you, emphasizing each of her words with another slow, languid thrust. She felt so good inside you, filling you up just like she’s needed all day. “Feels good, doesn’t it? I know it does. God, listen to the way you're moanin’ for me.” Abby couldn’t stop herself from talking to you like this, so overwhelmed from how amazing it was to pleasure you like this. She was obsessed with the way you took her so easily, the feeling of your wetness on her thighs, the sounds you were making. Every aspect of it made her feel high, and it encouraged her to keep fucking you just like you deserved. She buried her face into your neck, close to your ear as she started whispering. “You’re so good for me. So, so good. Every part of you is so delicious, so beautiful to love. I love makin’ ya feel good. I’m so obsessed with it.” Abby’s words were rushed and delirious. Her mind was once again going blank.

“Abs,” you moaned. Your grip around her back was tightening with every thrust, and you couldn’t stop your hips from rocking back into Abby’s. “I love you, Abs.”

“I love you, too, baby. That’s why I’m gonna make you cum on my cock. You got that?”

“Yes, fuck,” you whimpered. You could feel Abby bottoming all the way out inside you again, obsessed with how much she filled you up.

“Jus’ wanna fill you up. God, I want you to have my kids.” Abby’s thrusts stuttered a little bit as she uttered those words, unable to contain herself at the thought of what she had just said. Her words made you feel on fire, and the idea of her doing what she said was making you even wetter. Within time, Abby regained the steady rhythm she had set, but not before delivering a particularly hard thrust, and you felt it hit your cervix. You whimpered in response, unable to contain yourself. She was starting to pick up her pace, the sound of her skin slapping against yours while she fucked you getting louder.

“Abby, oh, fuck, harder, harder,” you pleaded. You didn’t have to ask Abby twice as she was already doing as you asked, ramming her hips against yours just like you needed. With the newfound roughness of her thrusts, you could feel yourself getting closer. The gathering heat in your stomach was so delicious, and every time Abby’s strap entered you completely, you could feel it growing. She was satisfying you so well, bringing you close to an orgasm once again. Abby had begun kissing your neck, leaving behind wet kisses and licks in her wake. She knew how good she was making you feel, and with the state of your pathetic moans, she knew just how close you were. She wanted you to cum all over her, to make a mess all over the bed. She wanted to see just how good she made you feel.

“Close?” she teased.

“Hmm, yes, Abs, I’m so close.” You felt Abby hit your cervix again, and the strangled cry that left your lips had her smiling into your neck. She loved hearing you.

“Jus’ like that, pretty girl. Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me why you deserve to be filled with my cum.” Abby kept thrusting into you, hitting the spot you needed, and with one last thrust you felt yourself cumming. Your moans were loud—the kind that wouldn’t be allowed if you were still living in the city—but the best part of living on a farm is that there’s no one around to hear. That’s what Abby liked about it, too, because she could make love to you and make you scream from an earth-shattering orgasm whenever she wanted. “That’s it, that’s it,” Abby whispered. “Fuck, baby, you did so good for me.” Abby stayed inside you even after you came, letting you catch your breath and calm down before she moved. You eventually unwrapped your arms from around her neck, and that’s how she knew you were ready. She picked herself up from your body and slowly pulled the strap out of you. It was covered in your juices, and a small sigh left her lips as she stared at it.

“How good?” you joked. She laughed as she looked at you.

“So good you wouldn’t believe,” she replied. “I know you must be tired, so I’m gonna make you some tea, okay? Jus’ get in bed and wait for me.” She gave you a quick peck on the lips before getting up from the bed.

“Thanks, Abs,” you said. She smiled.

“Anytime. Now let me go make that tea.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader smut #tlou x reader

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

My Sweet Girl (Matthew Tkachuk Imagine)

This is by far-- I repeat, by far-- the longest reader insert I've ever written. It's my submission for @wyattjohnston 's Winter Fic Exchange, a gift for @matthewtkachuk ! Excellent URL, by the way.

The creative process here went as follows: Shelbs shows me her On Repeat Spotify playlist -> I see The Band Camino on it and remember that I love that band -> I listen to nothing but them for two weeks -> I hear the song Know It All and am struck with inspiration -> I write this and inflict it on everyone else.

I jumped around a bit while writing, so please let me know if there's anything I screwed up! This is also the type of fic that has had 20+ tabs of Wikipedia pages, ESPN articles, and stats pages open on my computer for two months, but there was still information I couldn't find, so please be gentle with any inconsistencies.

Anyway, I truly hope that you enjoy this one! I apologize for being a day late posting, my job sucks.

Rating: M

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk/fem!Reader

Words: 26, 028

Warnings: a lot of angst

Contains: best friend's brother, friends to ??? to strangers to lovers, situationship, idiots in love, everyone knows but them, Matthew being kind of a dick, guest appearances by the Weinberg-Hughes family and Jane Gaudreau

Summary: As Brady's best friend, it was your duty to love and support him. You're pretty sure falling in love with his brother does not count as "support", but here you are.

-----

You weren’t expecting this to be as hard as it is.

Luckily, you’d been given a little warning beforehand, but apparently a week wasn’t enough to prepare yourself. Was it kind of fucked up that the news had to come from Brady, because Matthew hadn’t bothered to tell you himself? Yeah, kind of. Sure, Brady and you have been best friends for years, but it’s not like you’re not close with Matthew, too.

You hadn’t realized what was going on at first, convincing yourself not to be upset when Matthew’s texts slowed and his calls stopped outright. It had been the beginning of the playoffs, you reasoned, of course he was going to be too busy to talk to you as much. Despite the fact that communication between the two of you had never waned because of the season before. It was his first year on a new team, you’d told yourself, a team with a great shot at the Cup, at that. You could deal with missing him a little more than usual if that’s what he needed.

When you’d called him to congratulate him on passing the first round, he’d thanked you and wrapped the call up as quickly as he could. Seeing the 3:24:41 call duration on your phone afterward had felt wrong. It was one of the shortest calls the two of you had ever had.

You’d brushed it off, chalked it up to him being tired or busy. Then they’d won the second round, and the process repeated itself. A quick phone call, a few scant minutes. It had sounded like other people were there that time, so you’d convinced yourself that he would call you back when he was alone. He never did.

You got to watch Game 4 of the third series, got to watch them sweep Carolina to win the Eastern Conference. Your friend Terri had laughed and clapped as you cheered, jumping up and down like a child. She was a Carolina fan herself, but was good enough of a loser to hug and congratulate you despite it. She’d offered to leave so that you could talk to Matthew, but you’d waved it off. You knew he’d be celebrating with the boys that night, so there was no real reason to try calling. You’d shot him a congratulations text and spent the night smiling so much your cheeks hurt.

When you’d tried to call Matthew the next day, his voice had been hushed when he answered. You’d given him your congratulations, bubbling over about how well they’d played. It’s not the first time you’d had a phone call exactly like that, him letting you gush about his team’s play and basking in the attention. This time, he interrupted you before you even got a chance to really get going. His voice was still quiet, almost a whisper as he said he had to go. The wind was immediately taken out of your sails and you’d barely had time to say goodbye before he hung up.

At that point, you’d given up convincing yourself that everything was okay. Something was very clearly wrong, and you’d spent the next nine days trying to figure out what it was. You’d reached out to Brady, and he’d told you that he hadn’t noticed anything weird from Matthew at all. Knowing that, you’d tried to downplay what was going on between the two of you, lest Brady go bother Matthew about it. You don’t do well with embarrassment, so you’d preferred that whatever was going on stayed away from any third parties.

The finals started, ending rather anticlimactically ten days later in a 4-1 loss for the Panthers. Knowing Matthew, he was going to go straight back to his hotel room and beat himself up. For the last three, almost four, years, you’d called Matthew after every big win or loss, and this was his biggest loss to date. Yet your finger hesitated at his contact name, hovered over the picture of him with bedhead and a lazy smile. With how things had been going, you knew he probably wouldn’t want to talk to you, even if you hadn’t figured out why yet. But part of you hoped that he would, that everything to that point had been stress, and there, at his lowest, he would talk to you again, and everything would go back to normal.

That, of course, is not what happened.

He hadn’t answered at all. And when you’d tried a second time an hour later, it rang once before going to voicemail. That meant that he’d declined your call, but you didn’t know what that meant.

Two more days passed without you hearing anything from him, so you’d called Brady. All of this had been concerning, but that had been too much. Miraculously, you’d managed to stay calm when you spoke with Brady, sounding impressively level-headed when you relayed what happened and asked him if he’d heard from Matthew. Brady had seemed shocked at the situation, immediately calling Matthew after he’d hung up with you.

Thirty minutes later, when you’d received a text from Brady, your heart had sunk to the pit of your stomach, and it’s stayed there ever since.

Because what the text had informed you of is that Matthew hadn’t lost or broken his phone, hadn’t been sick or depressed or, god, lost in the fucking desert or some shit. It told you that he’d been with his girlfriend, and hadn’t wanted her to see him call or text another girl. Because, apparently, Matthew has a girlfriend now. And just hadn’t deigned to tell you.

When Brady had told you that she would be spending the offseason in St. Louis with Matthew, you’d tried to hide your shock. You’d cleared your throat and told Brady how great that was, even as you wanted to throw up. They’d gotten into town a few days ago, and you’d done your best to keep your distance. But Brady asked you to come to dinner at his parents’ house tonight, citing the limited time you have to see him before he goes back to Ottawa, and you couldn’t refuse.

So now here you are, curled up in a chair in the Tkachuks’ den, across from said girlfriend. Her name is Tessa, she’s 26, and she does remote work for a marketing firm. That explains how she’s able to pick up and go to St. Louis for three months, at least. She’s already recounted the story of how they’d met, a romcom story of spilling his drink on her dress at a party and getting to know each other from there. She talks about the instant connection, the way they clicked so quickly that she knew they were meant for each other. That part of the story was when you’d excused yourself to get a glass of water, just so you could stick your head in the fridge and take a few deep breaths.

Matthew and Tessa are on one of the couches, the older, comfier one. Matthew is propped up against one of the armrests, Tessa curled into his side, his arm around her shoulders. You’ve spent the night pretending not to notice the way Matthew keeps glancing at you.

Brady and Emma are posted up on the other couch, one on either side, Emma’s feet in Brady’s lap as she lounges. Emma is great, and does a great job at keeping the conversation going, despite how little you and the boys are participating. Tessa either doesn’t notice your silence or doesn’t mind, chatting happily about some film she and Emma have both recently seen. You’re pretending not to notice the looks Brady’s giving you, either.

You should really be trying harder. You know Brady wasn’t expecting you to curl up under a blanket and mope when he invited you, and he really is right about time being limited. You should be engaging, enjoying the time you get with the boys while you have it. You would, if you could open your mouth without feeling like you’re going to scream.

Eventually, Chantal calls you all to dinner. It’s easier once you’re all gathered around the table, somehow, and you’re able to talk a little. Chantal has always put you at ease, has always made you feel like just another of her children. If you had it your way, Taryn would be here too. She has a way of lovingly bullying you that always makes you feel better. Unfortunately, she’s visiting some college friends out of state. But you’re doing okay, you think, at acting normal.

Then you lock eyes with Keith, and any sense of ease you’ve gained flies out the window. You wouldn’t be inclined to say that Keith is the most observant person in the world, so the way he’s looking at you– like he knows something is very, very wrong– makes it clear that you’re doing an absolutely dogshit job at hiding your feelings. You look away from him quickly, swallowing hard and forcing yourself to talk even more. 

Maybe if you can just act normal, if you can push down the emotions and act like everything is okay, it will be. There’s nothing else you can really do about the situation anyway. Matthew has made it clear that he’s not interested in talking about it, so you’ll have to suck it up and deal with it on your own.

Dinner goes by a little quicker once you’re actually actively involved in the conversation. Typically, you help Chantal with the dishes after meals, but when you reach for the sponge at the sink, she shoos you away. She sends the girls back to the den, insisting that it’s the boys’ turn to help.

You curl back up in your chair, mind wandering as you operate on autopilot. You’re saying things, contributing to the conversation with Emma and Tessa, but you have no idea what you’re actually saying. Mercifully, they either don’t notice or don’t care.

This entire situation is fucked. What’s really getting to you, though, is how you’d been introduced. You’d walked in, giving out hugs to everyone except Matthew and Tessa. She’d approached you, shaking your hand enthusiastically.

“Matthew said you’re Brady’s best friend, right?” she’d asked. It was simple, innocuous, and true. Brady and you have been best friends for years, and that would be an adequate title in any other scenario. But it felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that after everything, Matthew had told her that you were just his little brother’s best friend. You’d glanced at him as she said it, and the intentionally cool, unaffected expression Matthew had in place still couldn’t hide the guilt in his eyes.

In that moment, you knew that he hadn’t told her anything about you, about whatever the two of you have been to each other for the past few years, and that he never intends to. There was a second where he’d made a decision, a second that you weren’t present for, that had cut off everything you’ve been to him and relegated you back to Brady’s Best Friend.

You want to pull Tessa aside, spill out everything. You want her to know that you’re Matthew’s friend too, that you’ve been more than that. More than that, you want Matthew to do it. You want him to tell her, to acknowledge whatever the hell you’ve been doing for all this time. You want him to admit that you’re something, anything to him.

Instead, you keep it all to yourself. The knowledge of everything between you and Matthew will live and die where it is now, in the minds of the two of you, and nowhere else.

June, 2018

You’re wiping down the counters when the man enters. You force a bright smile at him, still annoyed from the previous customer but doing your best not to show it. He returns the smile, approaching the register. You move to settle across from him, greeting him politely. The shop has a lot of regulars, but you don’t recognize this guy.

“I’ll be honest,” he says, giving a single nervous laugh, “I’m not really a coffee guy. Do you have any recommendations?” It’s not an uncommon question, and there aren’t any other customers right now, so you don’t mind.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He shakes his head. That eliminates about half of the menu, so it’s progress.

“How much caffeine are you going for?” you ask next.

“As much as possible,” he replies. The dark circles under his eyes could have hinted you to that conclusion. He has a laptop and notebook in one hand, down by his side. It’s normal for people to bring work along with them, and he’s definitely young, so you guess it’s probably school work.

“You could always do a triple shot latte with a flavor,” you suggest, your own go-to drink, “The caramel is the strongest. I can put in an extra pump if you want.” Technically, you should charge extra for that, but the kid looks kind of pathetic, and you feel bad. He can have a pity pump this once.

“That sounds good,” he agrees. You do the math in your head and punch in the price manually on the vintage register. The whole cafe is supposed to have a vintage vibe, a real hipster magnet. Math was always your weakest subject, but having to calculate totals in your head has made you a lot better with it.

Once he pays on the very not-vintage card reader, you direct him to the far side of the bar. You start on his drink, pulling shots with practiced ease. You’ve been working  here since high school, so you’ve gotten pretty good at making coffee. He doesn’t try to talk to you while you work, which is nice. There’s something oddly calming about his presence, though, and it’s helping your annoyance fade.

You hand off his drink, and he retreats to a booth in the back corner after thanking you. You go back to wiping things down, bobbing your head along with the music playing quietly over the speakers. It’s later in the evening, so you only get a few customers over the next hour. It’s one thing you like about working the night shift. Not many customers, and most of the people getting coffee around this time are tired enough to not give you much trouble, and are usually extremely grateful for the caffeine.

It’s quiet for long enough that you pull your stool up to the counter, pulling your textbook and notes out from under the counter. You start working on the homework for your summer semester, singing quietly to yourself as you read.

“You have a nice voice,” the guy from earlier says, suddenly standing in front of you. You jump, hand flying to your chest as if you’re a damsel in a period piece. You’d forgotten he was here.

“Thank you,” you say, once the surprise fades. You laugh a little, shaking your head. He laughs too, apologizing for startling you.

“Could I have another?” he asks, holding up his now-empty cup.

“Of course,” you reply, “Same cup okay?” You do your best to be environmentally friendly, so you don’t want to use another cup if you don’t have to. He says that’s okay, so you take the cup and start pulling another shot.

“Y/N,” he says absently as he leans on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” You thank him again, dumping the first shot into the cup. It’s odd, because people are usually flirting when they say something like that, but his tone isn’t suggestive at all.

“What’s your name?” you ask, feeling like you should say something. You start pulling the second shot.

“Brady,” he says, extending a hand toward you. You look between his hand and your own, feeling rude but needing both hands to pull the shot.

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “Sorry, I’m–” He seems to realize what’s going on and retracts his hand, using it to rub at the base of his skull.

“My bad,” he says, shaking his head at himself, “I’m tired, sorry.” You smile at him, much more genuine than the first time.

“What’s got you so tired anyway, Brady?” you ask, dumping the second shot and starting on the third. His face twists at what you’d thought was an innocuous question. He’s clearly debating something in his head, so you stay silent.

“I’ve got something big coming up in a couple weeks,” he explains, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I’m just trying to be prepared.” You nod, not minding how vague he’s being. You don’t actually need to know every detail of a random customer’s life. There’s a moment of quiet as you dump in the third shot and pour some milk into a metal container.

“And I might be a little nervous,” he says, looking at his hands instead of you. You smile again, beginning to steam the milk.

“Just a little,” you repeat, slightly teasing in a way you usually aren’t with customers.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking up at you, “Just a little.” You smile at each other for a second, both knowing he’s seriously downplaying his feelings. You wonder what it is that has him so anxious, sure that it must be something serious. He doesn’t seem to be the neurotic type.

“What are you working on?” he asks as you pour the milk, gesturing toward your books spread out next to the register. You shrug.

“Organic chemistry,” you reply, pumping in the flavoring, “The worst class ever.” He cringes at the mention of it, which you feel in your bones.

“I’ve heard it’s awful,” he says.

“It is,” you confirm. You snap the lid back onto the cup, sliding it over the counter to him. He cradles it between his hands, but doesn’t move to leave. He’s looking up at you from where he’s hunched over, and you can’t help but stare back.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asks, “We could be miserable together.” The smile that overtakes your face mirrors itself on his own.

August, 2018

When Brady walks in, right at his usual time, you give him a smile and lean over the counter to hug him. You’ve become fast friends, sitting together a few nights a week, probably talking more than studying. His Big Thing is long past, and he still hasn’t told you what it was, but you don’t really mind. You get to know about his family and his girlfriend and his upcoming move to Ottawa, of all places, but you don’t need to know everything if he doesn’t want to share.

You make two of the usual latte, one for each of you. You grab your books from the shelf, meeting him at the corner booth. You get through some small talk as you both set up, going back and forth with an ease that you were surprised to find has been there since the beginning.

“Matthew’s going to come hang out tonight,” he says as he logs into his computer. He’s spoken about his brother before, so you’re somewhat intrigued.

“Any particular reason?” you ask. To your knowledge, Matthew has never been to the shop, so you’re not sure if something special is going on to spur him into coming.

“He thinks it sounds cool,” Brady shrugs, flipping his notebook open. Maybe you’d know what he’s always working on if you could read his tiny chicken scratch. As it is, you don’t mind letting him have his secrets.

You get four pages into your chapter before another customer enters, laying your pen in the divot between the pages while you go make them their drink. Luckily, they don’t stick around. It’s not awful when other people are around, but you always feel like someone is going to complain about you sitting in the dining room and studying while you should be working. But if there’s no work to be done, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees. So you prefer if it’s just you and Brady.

Another four pages drag by, reading interspersed with breaks to talk. Honestly, the breaks are also a way to keep yourself sane as you read unnecessarily complicated science.

When the next customer enters, you spring up from your chair, shooting them a smile as you make your way behind the counter. You give your standard greeting, asking what you can get them.

“What do you recommend?” the man asks. You were kind of hoping he’d have something in mind so that this interaction could go quickly, because he may be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen and it’s making you flustered.

“Do you like the taste of coffee?” you ask. He nods, looking you up and down with a critical eye. It feels personal, feels like he’s searching for something, and you’re not sure if you like it.

“How much caffeine are you looking for?” you ask next. You do your best to maintain eye contact, ignoring the way you have to look up to do so.

“How much you got?” he asks in return. The crooked smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. You grasp for a drink to suggest, all knowledge having fled your mind in order to focus on the curl of his hair over his forehead, the glint of his bright eyes.

“A Lazy Eye would probably be the most,” you say, clearing your throat, “But if you don’t want to have a heart attack, you could do a regular Red Eye.” He tilts his head, smile turning smug, as if he’s noticed your distraction. Something about it snaps you out of your daze, slightly indignant. You’ve seen plenty of hot guys in your day, and you’re not about to look like a fool in front of him just because he’s pretty.

“Red Eye, Black Eye, Dripped Eye, Lazy Eye,” you list off with as much confidence as you can muster, “Each with one more shot than the last. Pick your poison.” Your attitude change only makes him smile wider. Your hand is poised over the buttons of the register, ready to ring up whatever he decides.

“Let’s go with a Black Eye,” he says, bearing a surprisingly sharp canine, “I’ve had a few of those in my time.” That doesn’t surprise you, with his smug face and oozing self-confidence. Something about it feels so disingenuous that it makes your teeth itch. It’s clearly an act, but you can’t exactly call him on it.

You give him his total, he pays, you get to work. You empty the last dregs of coffee in the pot into the sink and set the machine to brew a new batch. No matter how annoying a customer seems, you’re not about to serve them shitty coffee.

“Y/N,” he says, leaning on the counter, “That’s a pretty name.” It’s exactly what Brady had said when you’d met him, which makes you eye the man a little suspiciously. Whereas Brady had clearly not been flirting when he’d said it, this man’s tone is ambiguous enough that you’re not entirely sure what his intentions are.

“Thank you,” you say, dumping the first shot of espresso into the cup. Normally, you would ask for his name in return, but you’re not sure if you want to encourage him talking to you.

“How long have you worked here?” he asks anyway.

“Almost three years,” you reply. You’re not sure you want to tell him anything about your life, but you’re trying to be polite.

“Experienced,” he says, smiling like he’s a lion closing in on its prey, “I like that.” It’s cheesy and kind of sleazy, and you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. He’s watching you like a hawk, studying your reactions to everything he says and does. You dump the second shot, wishing the coffee would brew faster so this interaction could be over.

“I don’t think I want to know what else you like,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You used to get embarrassed and rattled by customers making comments like this, but at some point something had changed inside you. Now you just get annoyed, no matter how hot the person may be.

“Feisty,” he says, smile changing slightly in a way you can’t parse, “I like that too.” You roll your eyes, making a quiet noise of disgust. It’s not great for business to react to customers this way, but you can’t help it.

“I like it when men are silent,” you reply, able to feel how withering your gaze is. His expression changes yet again, smile getting smaller but more genuine, scrunching the bottom of his eyes up a little. That feels more natural to you, looks more right on his face. Something about the new softness in his eyes soothes something inside of you.

The coffee machine beeps to signal that it’s ready, and you waste no time in grabbing the pot and filling the cup. You hand it off to him, giving your biggest, most obviously fake smile.

“Have a fantastic night,” you say, immediately rounding the counter and heading back to the booth. When you settle back into your seat, Brady is smiling at you like you’ve told the funniest joke in the world.

“What?” you ask, picking up your pen. Brady’s eyes flick up above your head, slightly to the left, staying there, prompting you to turn around. The man is standing behind you, small smile still in place.

“Brady’s told me so much about you,” he says, and it dawns on you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matthew.” Your jaw falls open and you turn back to Brady, kicking him in the shin under the table. He yelps; Matthew laughs.

“You’re both the worst,” you spit, trying to hold onto your irritation and failing. You laugh alongside the brothers, begrudgingly amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Sorry about that back there,” Matthew apologizes, seemingly genuine, “I couldn’t help myself.” You shake your head at him as he bullies Brady further into the booth so he can sit. Brady shoves him back, but moves his things over anyway.

“It’s okay,” you say, pointing at him, “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’m banning you from the shop.” That startles a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t know you had the power to do that,” he replies, using his crossed arms to lean on the table.

“I do now,” you say, tilting your chin up, “Gonna put a picture up of you with a big X on it and everything.” You stare at each other for a second, and he breaks first, ducking his head as he laughs.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, looking up at you through his lashes. Your heart skips a beat, but you do your best to seem unaffected. This is your friend’s brother, for Christ’s sake. You can’t be all aflutter over him. You’re not sure you have a choice in the matter.

June, 2023

You might actually kill your coworker one day. He’s such a smug rat bastard, and every meeting including both of you makes you think you’re going to grind your teeth into dust. It’s just lucky that the job is remote, so you don’t have to be around him physically. Probably best for both your sanity and his safety.

“I mean, at least you were right in the end?” Terri says, sounding uncertain through your headphones. You’re sauteeing some onions and peppers, moving them around more than you should be just for something to do with your hands.

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh, “I just don’t understand why he wants to make me look bad.” Ian– the coworker– seems to always have some kind of comment on your work, some type of criticism. Constructive criticism is part of the game, but his is never constructive. It doesn’t help that you’re the only two in the graphics department, so he’s always there when you present work. And really, being the only two should mean that you work together and support each other, honestly.

“Because he’s an insecure man-child,” Terri replies easily. You shake your head down at the vegetables, startling as the oven timer goes off. You jab at the button to turn it off, opening the door to remove the chicken.

“I think I’ve had enough of insecure man-children,” you grumble. You cut open one of the chicken breasts with more force than is strictly necessary, grateful that it seems to be done.

“You finally wanna talk about that?” Terri asks, and honestly? No, you don’t. Ideally, you’ll never talk about it, just push it down into the darkest recesses of your mind and bury it there. Unfortunately, you possess some level of emotional maturity, which means you know that you have to talk about it eventually.

It’s hard, because despite Brady being your best friend, you can’t exactly talk to him about this. If he knew any part of what’s been going on, he’d probably go physically fight Matthew on your behalf. Part of you thinks that might actually make you feel a little better. But he’d also probably be mad that you’ve had a not-thing with his brother, and that would make you feel worse.

“She seems like a nice woman,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. Terri sighs, and you take your plate of food to the living room to eat.

“She’s not the problem, here,” she says. She’s right, and you know it. You really don’t have anything against Tessa, and obviously you can’t blame her for any of this. Clearly, she had no idea about your not-thing with Matthew, and genuinely fell for him. There’s no point in being mad at her.

“Yeah, well,” you push some food around your plate, “He’s a fuckface and she can have him.” The mention of Matthew has ruined your appetite, the meal now looking completely unappealing. You push the plate to the other side of the coffee table with a huff. You’ll try eating again later, you tell yourself, knowing that you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately. You can’t help it, your inner turmoil chasing away your hunger most of the time.

“He is a fuckface,” Terri agrees, adding, “But don’t pretend you don’t still want him.” Ugh. Friends are the worst, actually, and you should just become a hermit in a cave somewhere. There’s no point even trying to deny the claim, both of you knowing that she’s right.

“I’m not allowed to want him anymore,” you say, voice coming out weaker than you want to admit, “I never should have let myself want him in the first place.” In the beginning, despite being attracted to Matthew, it was easy to maintain distance. He was in Calgary most of the year, and reminding yourself that he was your new friend’s brother actually worked as a deterrent back then.

You can’t pinpoint exactly when you started letting yourself get caught up, but you’d ended up completely entangled with him. Now he’s put that distance back between you, ripping away the strings you’d been tied up in, leaving you with all these empty spaces where he used to be. And it’s making you hate yourself, knowing that if you’d just kept things cordial, restricted your attention and connection to Brady like you should have, you wouldn’t be feeling any of this right now.

“You can’t help who you love,” Terri says, so gently that it only hurts more. You’re not fragile, okay? You don’t need the softness, the careful handling. You’re not fragile. You’re not.

“I gotta go eat,” you say, not wanting to lie, but needing a way out of the conversation, “Bye, Ter.” She says your name, but you just repeat the goodbye. She sighs, says goodbye, and you hang up. What you should do is eat something and go to sleep. Instead, you eye the easel in the corner of the living room. You sigh, heaving yourself up off of the couch to go grab a glass of water to rinse your brushes with.

April, 2019

It’s probably going to become your new favorite day of the year: the day Brady comes home from Ottawa. His plane had landed yesterday, and his parents had even brought you to the airport with them to pick him up. As quickly as you’d bonded last summer, you’d only gotten closer through the season. It feels like you can talk to each other about anything, like you were meant to meet, like he’s the platonic version of a soulmate. You had patiently waited your turn to hug him after his parents, squeezing him as tightly as you could manage. He’d only squeezed back harder.

With their seasons ending right around the same time this year, Matthew had landed the same night. Knowing they’d have to go back to the airport, the Tkachuks had decided to just spend the day out instead of going home. They’d invited you to come with them, an invitation you’d eagerly accepted. They’re quickly starting to feel like family to you, and you love spending time with them. For the first time in your life, it feels like you fit somewhere.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to come along to pick up Matthew. You’d had to work last night, so the Tkachuks had dropped you off at home to get changed and get going. You’d still gotten to spend most of the day with them, which would have to be enough.

You’re going over to their place today, and you decided to bake and bring along cookies. All of their local family and friends are going to be there to welcome the boys home, and you haven’t met most of them yet, so you want to make a good first impression. Besides, it’s just polite to bring something along to someone’s house.

Though Brady still tries to hug you when you arrive, despite your hands being full, the plates need to be deposited on the dining room table before he can get a real one. There are a few people chatting in the room, so Brady introduces you to them.

Most of the next hour goes much the same, Brady introducing you to family and friends, having small conversations with all of them. You know that Brady isn’t trying to embarrass you, but he has a habit of hyping you up to people. He’s more outgoing than you are, and he uses that social ease to brag about how smart you are, how talented. It feels a little like he’s trying to justify being your friend to them, but you know better than to think that Brady cares what anyone thinks of him and his choices.

The kitchen exits onto a large cherry wood deck, scattered with chairs, some of them already occupied. The back yard is sprawling, green grass lined with lush bushes. There’s a pool to the right, not opened for the summer yet, a jacuzzi positioned between it and the house. You’re still not really used to all of this, the casual wealth of the family. It’s so far from what you’d grown up with, something that had astonished you when you’d realized just how far above you the Tkachuks are.

There are a few yard games set up in the grass, cornhole and ladders and something you don’t recognize. And there, in the center of the yard, Matthew is teaching a child how to play ladders. The kid is probably a cousin, of which they have many. Matthew is barefoot, wearing a bright red Flames hoodie and black shorts that only come to mid-thigh. You’ve narrowed your staring down to a minimum, so your eyes only linger for a second or two before you turn back to Brady.

He guides you around to meet the few people braving the chilly spring weather, much as he had done inside. Everyone is so nice, saying how pleased they are to meet you, and seeming to mean it.

Your last stop is Matthew, who interrupts his lesson to hug you. It’s only the second time the two of you have done so, the first having been the last time you saw him before he left for the season. Despite that fact, he squeezes you almost as hard as Brady had, as if you’re his best friend too. Not that you’d presume to be Brady’s best friend, but. Still.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says when you pull apart, and the expression on his face tells you how genuine it is. Your smile is almost involuntary, turning up the corners of your mouth and baring just a hint of teeth.

“Welcome home, Matthew,” you reply, “We missed you.” You’re not sure what “we” you’re referring to, but it feels less incriminating than saying “I missed you”. You get the feeling that he understands anyway, beaming at you.

The three of you chat for a few minutes, Matthew introducing you to his little cousin. With there being four of you, you decide to play a game of ladders, to test the little one’s skills. He’s pretty good, for a kid, and you and Brady make sure to throw well enough to convince him that you’re trying, but still let him win. Throughout, Matthew gives him tips and instruction, so kind and gentle that it makes your heart ache. They cheer when they win, high fiving and teasing you and Brady.

You go inside to spend some time with Keith and Chantal. Chantal gives you a big hug, as if she hadn’t just seen you yesterday. Keith gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder. Taryn appears at some point, sneaking up behind you and poking your sides to make you jump. You laugh along with her, enfolding her into the conversation easily.

Time flies by, the sun setting around you, the house lights turning on one by one as darkness descends. Eventually, you end up lounging in the den with the other adult kids. From your visits last year, the chair in the corner has become yours. You’re settled in, legs folded up under you as something that no one is watching plays on the TV. Brady and Taryn get into a heated debate about something or another, and Matthew gives you a long-suffering look as his younger siblings bicker. You just smile back at him, finding the family’s passion entirely endearing.

“Seventeen years of this,” Matthew gripes, clearly not as annoyed as he’s trying to seem.

“And sixty more to go,” you reply. Matthew chuckles at that, looking to Brady and Taryn with such fondness that you almost can’t stand it. It’s the kind of relationship you’d wanted with your own brothers, but that’s best not to think about.

“Hopefully,” Matthew says, turning that fond look toward you. Your heart skips a beat, and you’ve gotten good at ignoring that.

May, 2019

You shouldn’t be this nervous, but you are. Terri is on speaker phone, telling you about her new job. You’re half-listening, staring at the clothing laid out on your bed. You’ve been agonizing all morning about what you’re going to wear, how you’re going to do your makeup, if you should wear makeup at all.

“I’m glad that your boss defended you,” you say to Terri, still tuned in enough to follow her story, “She seems cool.”

“She’s so cool,” Terri gushes, “She’s my favorite now.” You’re so happy that Terri has finally found a good job, especially with how hellish her previous one had been. This one pays almost double what she was getting before, too, which definitely doesn’t hurt. She expounds a little more about the things she loves about her boss, and you decide to hang back up the dresses you’ve laid out. It’s still a little too chilly to wear them, especially after sundown.

“You’re still staring at those damn clothes, aren’t you?” Terri asks, switching the topic suddenly. Your face gets warm as you make a plaintive hand gesture, despite her not being able to see you.

“Clothes are stupid and I can’t decide,” you complain, trying to imagine how each of the final two options will come across. If you try too hard, Matthew might think that you think this is a date, but you still want to look good. You know it’s not a date, but you’re still kind of acting like it is, and it’s embarrassing.

“Definitely wear jeans,” Terri advises, “That’ll make it more casual.” You agree, putting away the skirt you’d paired with the one shirt, trying to picture how it would look with jeans. You move the pants between each shirt, before giving up and just putting them on. You’ll just try on both outfits and see which one you like better.

Once dressed in the first option, you take a picture to send to Terri. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that. After a minute or two of consideration, you switch tops. You take another picture and send both to Terri for her opinion.

“Oh, definitely the second one,” she says, “The first one makes you look like you’re going to a job interview.” You look at the picture again, and can’t deny that she’s right. You put that one away, settled in your decision. You’re not sure if Matthew has ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt, so you hope the red tank top layered with a tucked-in sheer pink printed blouse isn’t too much of a change.

When Matthew had invited you to take a walk around the park yesterday, just the two of you. You’ve never spent more than a few minutes alone with him, always having Brady or Taryn or Emma to provide distraction and distance. This time you’ll have nothing to focus on but him.

The time comes soon enough, and you gather your things, not wanting to make Matthew wait for you when he arrives. You’d offered to drive yourself and meet him there, but he’d waved off the idea immediately, saying that he’d pick you up.

A knock comes at your door right on time. You take a deep breath before you open it, settling your frenzied heart. Matthew smiles as soon as he sees you.

“Oh wow,” he says, almost absentmindedly, “You look great.” Your blush is immediate, and you hope he can’t see it. It seems that anything that comes out of his mouth makes you blush, sometimes.

The drive to the park isn’t too long. When you arrive, you gather your bag from the floor of the passenger seat, and by time you move to get a hand on the door handle, Matthew is already opening the door from the outside. It’s a sweet surprise, and you thank him as you climb out of the car.

It’s a nice day, not too cold or windy for once. The two of you walk, talking about this and that, moving from topic to topic as they arise. You point out a few birds as you go, and Matthew listens to the little fun facts you give about them. He seems genuinely interested, but even if he’s not, at least he’s polite enough to pretend.

“I guess we should have left a little earlier,” Matthew remarks as the sun goes down, the light fading around you. The sun sets quickly this time of year, so you’re still a few minutes out from the car by time it’s completely dark. The lights along the pathway bathe Matthew in yellow light, casting warm shadows in the dips and hollows of his face.

“At least I have a big, strong man to protect me,” you joke, elbowing him.

“Oh no, if we get jumped I’m running,” he replies, shooting a shit-eating grin down at you. You gasp and press a hand to your heart, as if you’re truly scandalized.

“You would really abandon me like that?” you ask. His smile softens at the edges.

“Never,” he says, looking so genuine that it makes your heart flutter, pausing before he adds, “Unless we’re getting robbed.” Your combined laughter rings out through the trees.

June, 2023

You’ve managed to avoid any questions about your odd behavior, and it’s getting easier to act normal over time. A couple weeks have passed since your first meeting with Tessa, and you still feel like ripping your skin off when you see her touching Matthew, but you’ve gotten better at hiding it. It’s not your place to be upset, anyway.

The diner is bustling at this time of day, the tail end of lunch rush. You had to wait a little bit to get seated, but now you’re sitting at the end of a booth in a chair they’d pulled up to the edge to make up for all five of you not fitting into the booth. It makes you feel a little left out, the only one not paired off, a fifth wheel to the two couples on either side of the table. You block that out, a skill you’ve had for years, but have had to strengthen rapidly over the past few weeks.

Brady has an arm around Emma’s shoulders, and you can tell by the angle of Matthew’s arm that he has a hand on Tessa’s thigh. You remember when that was you, Matthew touching you so casually, so naturally. Sitting across from Matthew as he nudges your foot under the table, sitting next to him with your shoulders pressed together, fingers tangled together on the seat, where no one could see.

Emma is telling a story about a night out with some of her girlfriends, and you’re laughing along at the antics with everyone else. When she asks you about work, you try to clear the perpetual lump in your throat before answering, succeeding in sounding happy, though the tightness remains.

When your food arrives, you spend most of the time pushing it around your plate to make it look like you’re eating. You never have an appetite around Matthew anymore, weirdly embarrassed about being seen eating in a way you haven’t been since you were a teenager. You’ll take it home and eat it later, if you can stop thinking about Matthew for two fucking seconds.

You’re not sure how long that’s going to be impossible, but you hope it’s not much longer.

January, 2020

You’ve been to a few games when the boys have played the Blues, but you’ve never made the trip up to Canada to see them play each other before. Ottawa is nice, Brady and Emma having shown you around a little when you’d arrived. Your nerves had been shot from the anxiety of traveling abroad for the first time, even though it was just to Canada. The couple seemed to understand, only taking you around for a few hours before bringing you home.

Brady’s apartment is nice, really nice. He’s offered you the guest room for a few days, and you appreciate not having to pay for a hotel. He’ll be home for six days before he has to go to St. Louis for the All Star game, so you’d arranged to stay in Ottawa and fly back home with them.

Luckily, the cafe is pretty cool about rearranging your schedule, so you’ll just have to work some extra days when you go back to make up for what you’re missing. You’d asked for the days of the skills competition and game off as well, Brady having managed to get you a ticket. Your manager has always thought it was cool that you were friends with the Tkachuks, so she had agreed to give you the time off if you brought her a souvenir. Matthew and Brady had offered to sign a jersey for her without you even having to ask, and you’ll owe them for a while, though they insist you don’t.

Matthew gets in that first night, the three of you meeting him at his hotel. You’re not sure how he managed it, but he’ll be staying a few days instead of returning to Calgary with the team after the game. Maybe he got a special exception because this game is the last before All Star week, and he has to go to St. Louis anyway. No matter the reason, you’re glad he gets to stay.

The game the next night is exciting, and definitely worth the trip. With the Senators’ performance in recent years, it’s mostly the diehard fans left, so the atmosphere is electric. You get swept up in the passion and joy, especially when the game ends with a 5-2 win for Ottawa.

The boys have to debrief and get changed, which you know will take a while. Emma and you wait with the WAGs, Emma excited to introduce you to them. Some of them think you’re a new WAG at first, which is honestly kind of flattering. All of the ladies are surprisingly kind and welcoming, and you enjoy interacting with them as you all wait.

Matthew emerges first, guided down the hallway by one of the arena staff. His steps pick up pace when he sees you and Emma, and he shoots a quick thanks to the staff member before jogging over to the two of you. He immediately enfolds you in his arms, squeezing tight and holding longer than usual. You know it’s difficult for him to lose at all, let alone to his brother, so you let him hold you as long as he wants.

Once he lets you go, he meets your eyes. His smile is soft, tinged with a slight sadness that you want to wipe away.

“Hey there, sweet girl,” he greets, and your breath catches at the term of endearment. He’d started using it a few months ago, and it still makes your chest tight. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, but you still imagine sometimes that it does.

He turns his attention to Emma, giving her a hug as well, just one quick squeeze before releasing. The three of you start talking, waiting patiently for Brady. It doesn’t shock you that he takes so long to come out, knowing his unofficial position of leadership in the team. The guys come out one by one, hugging and kissing their wives and girlfriends, the number of ladies dwindling as they leave with their men.

When Brady finally emerges, he heads straight over to give Emma a hug and kiss. He hugs you next, before punching Matthew’s shoulder. They have a little back-and-forth as you all exit the arena, taking harmless jabs at each other all the way to the car.

The main issue with the living arrangements for the trip had been that Brady and Emma were going to have two guests and only one spare room. Matthew had offered to sleep on the couch, but he’s too tall for that, and you don’t want him to end up sore or hurting his neck during the season. You’d insisted that you’d sleep on the couch, but both Matthew and Brady had immediately vetoed that idea. Then you’d found out that the guest room has two twin beds instead of one bigger one, and the answer was simple.

Matthew sets his suitcase and backpack next to the door when you get home. You’ve already claimed the bed on the far side, so he gets set up on the one closer to the door. Emma and Brady are in the kitchen, making a post-game snack for everyone, so it’s just you and Matthew.

“You excited to be roomies for a week?” he asks, unzipping his suitcase. Yours is already open under the window, so you grab some pajamas out of it.

“Depends how loud you snore,” you tease. He shoots you a toothy smile.

“Oh, it’s gonna be loud,” he says. You chuckle a bit, knowing he’s joking. Emma calls for you, then, and you leave your clothes on the bed to go to her. The four of you converse as you eat, seated in a row at the kitchen island. You’ve got Matthew to one side and Brady to the other, and they take turns kicking your ankles. You kick back, grinning at Emma when she kicks Brady’s other side.

Brady and Matthew had already showered at the rink, so they sit in the living room while you and Emma get ready for bed. She uses the master suite, and you use the bathroom in the hall. It’s nice, if small, with a simple stall shower instead of a tub. You go through your routine on autopilot, only realizing when you’re done that you’d left your clothes in the bedroom. You wrap yourself in a towel, doing your best to sneak past the door to the living room.

When you look to make sure your stealth is working, you meet Matthew’s eyes. It stops you in your tracks. You can’t discern the look on his face, and you’re not sure that you care to. He shoots you an easy smile, and you wave at him like an idiot, acting on instinct. It only makes him smile wider, and you scurry off to the room.

After you’re dressed, there’s a knock on the door. Brady asks if you’re decent, and you confirm that you are, so he peeks his head in. Once he sees that you truly are dressed, he opens the door the rest of the way. He and Emma bid you good night, telling you to just ask if you need anything. You thank them and say good night in return, Matthew entering the room as soon as the other two retreat to their own room. He’s barely two steps into the room before he’s pulling off his shirt.

“Woah there, cowboy,” you say, holding up a hand in front of you. He just shrugs at you.

“Gotta get ready for bed,” he says, bending over and lifting his foot to remove his socks. You’d figured that he would wear a t-shirt and shorts to bed like you, but you should’ve guessed he’d be the type to sleep shirtless, no matter who’s around. He’s naked in front of thirty people every day, who cares about being shirtless?

You do your best to brush it off, turning down the covers of your bed so that you can crawl in. Normally, you would read for a bit before bed, but you’re tired enough tonight that you don’t think you need to. You pull the blankets up to your chin, turning on your side. Unfortunately, you sleep on your right, so you end up facing Matthew’s bed. Is that weird? Should you try sleeping the opposite direction?

Matthew doesn’t say anything, flicking the lights off and crawling into bed. He sleeps on his left, apparently, so he’s facing you too. That’s a little awkward, right? As your eyes adjust to the dark, you’re able to see the glint of his teeth as he smiles over at you.

“Sleep well, sweet girl,” he says quietly. You return the sentiment, grateful that the darkness means he probably can’t fully see the embarrassment on your face. You’re backlit by the window, so you convince yourself that he can’t.

The next morning, you wake to Matthew already out of bed, stretching. Your eyes roam his back, taking in the dips and ridges of his muscles. Only at the last second do you realize that his head is turned to the side, and he’s staring at you through the corner of his eye. You quickly avert your gaze, turning to sit bolt upright on the other side of the bed, facing the window.

The four of you spend the day exploring the city, Brady and Emma seeming to have planned what they want to show you. It’s nice, peaceful and fun. You make them take pictures with you in front of landmarks or cool art pieces, all of you squished together to fit in the selfie.

It isn’t until the fourth night that anything out of the ordinary happens. You’re lying in bed, having turned on your back to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You probably shouldn’t have had that affogato after dinner, though usually they don’t bother you this much. No matter how long you toss and turn, how many sleeping positions you try, you can’t even make yourself tired, let alone actually fall asleep.

“What are you, a rotisserie chicken?” Matthew asks rhetorically, breaking the silence. His voice is hushed, but it still startles you. You turn your head to stare at him, finding him staring right back.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, sheepish, “I can’t sleep.” Matthew’s lips quirk up at one end.

“Me either,” he says, sitting up. You mimic his posture, then scoot back to lean against the headboard. He slings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, and you think for a second that he’s going to turn on the light. Instead, he takes the two steps to your bed, motioning to the mattress. You nod, prompting him to start shoving your shoulder, bullying you into making space for him. You giggle, trying to keep quiet to respect the late hour.

“So,” he leads, taking a long moment to just stare at you before continuing, “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You’re taken off guard by the request, not sure how to respond.

“I was an Aaron Carter girl growing up,” you pull out of thin air. Matthew’s face breaks into a wide smile, sunshine in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he asks. You nod, mumbling “yeah” in confirmation. That’s all it takes to get you both talking. You trade off back and forth, telling each other small things about yourself that may not come up otherwise, launching into short discussions about some of the statements.

“My favorite color is red,” he says at one point, when you’re starting to think you may fall asleep.

“I thought it was blue?” you reply, remembering Chantal mention that at some point. Matthew starts fiddling with his hands.

“I tell people it’s blue, but it’s really red,” he says. You tilt your head an inch or two, furrowing your brow at him.

“Why?” you ask. He ducks his head.

“Red is an angry color,” he explains, voice quieter than before, “With my reputation, I don’t want people to associate me with an aggressive color. I don’t want to play into the stereotype.” You hum, looking forward. It feels like this isn’t the best time to look at him, like he’ll clam up if you witness his vulnerability.

“It’s also the color of vitality, excitement, love,” you counter, leaving just a breath of a pause, “It’s a good color for you.” The entire room is still for a dragging moment, before Matthew gently knocks your shoulders together.

“What about you?” he asks when you look back to him. There’s a fraction of a change in his face, but you don’t comment on it.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still sitting up, head resting on Matthew’s shoulder, his head laying on top of yours. You suppress the instinct to startle, not wanting to disrupt him, lest he wake up and move. His skin is warm under your cheek, your arms lined up from shoulder to the knuckles of your fingers. You close your eyes again, trying to keep your breathing steady, as if you’re still sleeping. You’ve been trying so hard to keep distance between Matthew and yourself, but you’ll allow yourself to enjoy this, just for a moment longer.

There’s a shift in Matthew’s breathing, his fingers twitching against yours. It settles after a second, into a different pattern, intentionally deep and even. You’re sure that he’s awake, that he’s doing the same thing that you are. You’re not sure what to do with that information.

The rest of the trip goes by smoothly, Brady and Emma showing you both the touristy things and the better local spots around the city. If the same thing happens the next night, and the night after that, you and Matthew talking in low voices until you fall asleep against each other, neither of you mention it.

April, 2020

While the initial prediction for lockdown was that it would only last a month, it’s clear that it’s going to last much, much longer.

It’s probably lucky that you’d just started a new job, one that can be done remotely, rather than either working at the coffee shop or being laid off. It’s not exactly what you want to do, but it’s at least in the artistic field, so you try to be grateful anyway. It’s difficult being locked away in your apartment, but you’re grateful that you’re luckier than essential workers and people who are losing their jobs altogether.

The thing that keeps you sane in all of this is your phone. More specifically, it’s your friends. You’ve developed almost a schedule with it, calling Terri in the morning for an hour or so before work. At lunch, you facetime Brady and Emma for another hour, not envying them being stuck so far from home. It must be hard to be in an entirely different country than your family.

The highlight of each day is the evening, when you facetime Matthew. Though he spends most of the day sending you videos and memes and updates about whatever little thing he’s doing at the moment, it’s still nice to talk to him out loud. Seeing his face helps your growing loneliness a little bit.

You’re in your living room, your phone propped up against the arm of the couch as you show off the few things you’ve made since picking up crochet a couple weeks ago. Matthew compliments each of them, commending you for your improvement. He’s the only one you’ve shown, too embarrassed to let anyone else see the wonky scarves with uneven stitches.

“You have time to work on any paintings lately?” he asks, once you’re done your little show and tell. The truth is that you’ve got three new canvases drying in the kitchen. The truth is also that the man asking about them is the inspiration for their creation. There’s nothing incriminating about them; it’s not like they’re portraits of him or something. But you’re still hesitant to show him, because even if he doesn’t know, you do.

You show him anyway. The painting of the park is his favorite, and you wonder if he knows that it’s the one you went to for your first time alone together. It’s mostly dark, greens and blues so deep they look black, yellow triangles of light splitting the canvas into section. If you look closely enough, the brush strokes fill in the details of the trees, the grass, the pavement. Your phone camera isn’t good enough for Matthew to see that, but he compliments it anyway.

“You should paint me something for my apartment,” he says after you show him all three. You’re not opposed to the idea, actually enjoy the thought of something you made being showcased in his home.

“What do you want?” you ask, a hundred ideas already flitting through your mind. The only way you’ve seen his apartment is through the background of pictures he sends you sometimes, or little glimpses you catch as he walks around while you facetime. You’re not entirely sure of the vibe, but you’re sure you can figure something out.

“What makes you think of me?” he asks in return. You stop in your tracks in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The hand holding your phone lowers a couple inches unintentionally, your gaze drifting above the screen, staring into the middle distance. What makes you think of him? Hockey, obviously. Family. Curling up under a blanket on a cold night. Laying on the couch with your feet up on the armrest, your head propped up on a pillow, a sad replacement for his lap. Spruce trees, gold, pitbulls, mushroom pizza, black eyes– both the drink and the wound.

Everything. Everything makes you think of him.

You can’t say that, obviously. You search your brain for something personal but innocuous, something sentimental but still acceptable. You think of all the time that you two have spent together over the past few years, memories springing up, some that you’d even forgotten about. Some that you’ll never be able to forget about.

“Can I surprise you?” you ask. You’re given that familiar smile in response, any iteration of which makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, propping his face up with one hand on his jaw, “I trust you.”

July, 2023

Some people may say that Terri’s apartment is cluttered, but you just find it cozy. She has decorations and knick-knacks on every surface, but the comfiest couch you’ve ever sat on. That’s where you are now, stretched out with your back against the side, Terri mimicking your posture at the other end, your legs tangled together in the middle.

“We should see the Barbie movie when it comes out,” she says, unprompted. You look up from the hook and yarn in your hands, tipping your head to the side for a second and shrugging.

“It looks good,” you say, an indirect agreement. You haven’t been to the movies since before lockdown, so it might be nice to go back.

“D’you think Gabe would want to come?” she asks cautiously, “He could bring the kids.” The mention of your brother still makes ice crawl in your chest, but it’s not as bad as it once was. He’d reached out last year, trying to reconnect with you, and apparently your other brother too. You’ve only seen him a few times since, but it’s more than you’d seen him in the four years prior, combined.

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Terri asks, eyes flicking toward your phone sitting on the coffee table. You look toward it as well, debating for a second. It would be nice to see your nieces and nephews, but it also hurts that they barely know who you are.

“Yeah,” you agree after a second, “Worth a shot.” You grab your phone, feeling as if it’s going to explode in your hands if you move too quickly. There are a few notifications when you wake the screen, which you ignore to unlock it. You open your texts, backing out of your thread with Terri from earlier. You have a picture message from Brady, just a selfie of him and Emma smiling, which you send a heart in response to. Backing out of that thread, you see another new message, underneath the contact name you haven’t had the heart to change. The red and purple hearts next to his name– each of your favorite colors– having been there so long that getting rid of them feels wrong, no matter how it makes your chest hurt to see them.

Can we talk?

You tap the back button as quickly as you can. You can’t respond. You should, to be polite, but you can’t. If you do, you’ll say something you regret. It’ll probably be agreement or the words “eat shit”, and either option will get you into trouble. You can’t respond. You want so badly to talk to him. You want so desperately to go back in time and never meet him.

Your fingers tremble as you draft a text to your brother, typing and deleting and re-typing a few times before you settle on the wording. You have more important things to worry about than Matthew.

August, 2020

The bubble was an interesting idea. It may not be the best idea in the world, despite the safety precautions, but you know Matthew is just happy to be back on the ice. He’s already sent you a dozen pictures of the hotel, of him with his teammates and friends, masked up together in the lobby. You tell him to tell the boys that you say hello, and he texts you each of their responses.

The first round goes well, the Flames only losing one game to the Jets. You know Matthew had been worried about going through all the rules and protocols just to be eliminated immediately, so you’re glad that that isn’t the case.

The series against the Stars starts out with an exciting back-and-forth, the teams trading off wins. Then the Stars win game 5, breaking the pattern. You’re not expecting the last game to actually be the last, convinced that the Flames would at least make it to a game seven. But the Stars pull a decisive 7-3 win, the Flames falling apart in the second period and unable to get themselves back together.

Matthew has called you as soon as he got back to his hotel room after every game, so you’re expecting your phone to ring some time in the next hour or two. You putter around the apartment a little, putting away some dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters. You’d been painting during the game, a commission from a friend of a friend of a friend. You return to that, losing yourself in the meticulous movements of your brush.

It feels like it’s been too long. You try to focus on the canvas in front of you, but there’s a nagging sense in the back of your mind that something is wrong. It sits heavy at the base of your skull as you try to ignore it.

Eventually, it becomes too much. You check your phone to make sure that you haven’t missed his call, but there are no notifications. It’s been a little over two hours. You unlock your phone and pull up his contact in a second, pressing the video icon. Typically, he’ll pick up after one or two rings, but you hear the third ring, the fourth. The call disconnects, shock shooting up your spine. It only lasts a second, your phone ringing with a voice call almost immediately.

“Hey sweet girl,” Matthew greets you in his typical fashion as soon as you accept the call. There’s something off about his voice, and it takes you a second to realize what it is.

“Hey there, darling,” you respond, voice as gentle as you can manage. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Matthew cry, but it breaks your heart every time. As much as he tries to seem tough and aloof, you know how deeply losses like this affect him. Now it makes sense that he didn’t want video involved.

“How are you?” he asks, clearly moving his face away from the receiver as he sniffles, but you can still hear it. You move to the couch, sinking into the cushions, as if you’re as crushed as he is.

“I’m okay,” you reply, “You holding up okay?” You know he’ll say that he’s fine, but you also know that he’s not. He may not be for a while. There’s a pause, a long stretch of silence, only interrupted by his deep, labored breaths.

“I wish you were here,” he says. He sounds absolutely miserable, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. The urge to hold him is overwhelming, your arms buzzing with the desire to wrap around him. You want to pull him down into your lap, let him tuck his head into the crook of your neck, let him cry on you as you scratch his scalp and kiss his head. Lockdown isn’t the only reason that can’t happen.

“I’m going to hug you so hard,” you insist, “As soon as I can see you again.”

July, 2023

While you’re still a third wheel with Brady and Emma, it’s better than being a fifth wheel with the entire group. You’d asked Taryn if she wanted to tag along, but she has training to do. Brady had already done his that morning, so he’s free for the rest of the day, and had invited you to spend some time together.

You’re certain that he doesn’t know how you feel about this place, how much it hurts to be here. As far as he’s aware, this is your favorite park, the one you visit with Matthew at least a few times a month every summer. He probably thinks it’s a great choice, something to cheer you up from the slump you know he’s noticed.

Despite the memories tugging at you from every direction, you’re mostly in a good mood. You’d gotten excellent news the day before yesterday, an opportunity you’ve dreamed of for a long time. You wanted to text Brady right after the meeting to tell him, but you’d decided it was better to share it with him and Emma in person. You’re debating something that absolutely doesn’t matter, all of you talking over each other. You’re waiting for the right moment to change the conversation. It doesn’t come until almost an hour into your walk, but you jump on it as soon as it does.

“I have some cool news,” you say, breaking the silent pause that had fallen over the group.

“Well?” Emma replies, “Go on.” The excitement is bubbling up inside of you again at the thought of it, your stomach turning, your chest too full.

“You know that gallery downtown that I love?” you ask, continuing after they agree, “I’m going to do a show there.” They stop in their tracks, Emma immediately enfolding you in her arms. You hug her back, squeezing tight as she bounces on her toes. When she pulls back, she holds your face in her hands, voice high and thrilled as she congratulates you. The smile on your face is unavoidable, happiness from the news mingling with the happiness of your friends being proud of you.

“Cool news, huh?” Brady asks, lightly smacking your shoulder as he says, “What an understatement.” The circle of his arms feels safe, his chest warm against your cheek as he holds you tight. The look on his face when he releases you is the best reaction you’ve gotten so far, his pride meaning more than anyone else’s.

“When is it?” he asks, taking Emma’s hand in his own once again and resuming the walk. You follow along, too excited to be self-conscious of the visible skip in your step.

“August 20th,” you say. There’s an unspoken question there, a silent invitation. You don’t want him to feel pressured to come, knowing that despite how supportive he is of your artistic endeavors, he’s not big on things like art shows. In the end, you don’t have to ask.

“You know we’re coming, right?” he asks, aiming a crooked smile at you, “You can’t stop us.” Though the smile hasn’t left your face since you brought up the topic, it gets brighter in return.

“I’d never dream of trying to,” you reply, and you mean it.

October, 2020

It’s odd to have the boys around at this time of year, the season usually taking them away at the end of August. You’re grateful for it, though. It means that you get to spend time with them, lockdown finally over, freeing you from the confines of your apartment. Your job has stayed remote, so you’re able to be around even more, saving time on what used to be an hour long commute each way.

Right now, it’s you and the boys, Emma, and Terri. You’d introduced her to them less than a month ago, but they already love her, just as you knew they would. She doesn’t always come around with you, considering how you spend nearly every day at the Tkachuks’, but she has some time today.

After twenty minutes of debating what you should watch, you all agree on a true crime documentary. You’ve given up your chair for Terri, squishing yourself onto the couch with Brady and Emma, pressing your cold feet against her leg and laughing when she yelps. She kicks you, only serving to make you laugh harder. Brady playfully threatens to fight you to defend his woman’s honor, and you put your fists up in front of you, jabbing out into the air as if you’re going to take him up on the offer. He chuckles, reaching out to fist bump you instead of punch. You drop your hands, looking past his big ass head.

Matthew is lounging in the second chair, the leg rest of the recliner up despite his legs being crossed under him. It’s the only way the chair will lean back, he’d told you once, and he doesn’t like sitting upright.

The smile on his face isn’t the wide grin you’d expected. It’s small, a gentle turn of the lips. Combined with the look he’s giving you– something unfocused, something unbearably soft– it implies an emotion that you know can’t be the correct interpretation. You swallow hard, turning your eyes back to Brady.

“Press play already, nerd,” you demand, tone playful enough to show that you don’t mean it. He sticks his tongue out at you, but does as he’s told.

Five minutes in, you glance over at Matthew, finding him already looking at you. You look away, slightly embarrassed to be caught. Another five minutes later, you can’t help but peek back at him again, as if your eyes are magnetized to him. It’s almost disappointing that he’s actually looking at the screen. It only takes a second for his eyes to move to the side, peering at you in his peripheral. The corner of his lips quirks up the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeable. But you notice.

You only make it maybe half an hour into the film before Matthew leans forward and snatches the remote from its place next to Brady. The plaintive sound Brady lets out is kind of funny, but you seem to think everything is funny today. Matthew pauses the show, declaring that the group needs snacks.

“Y/N, come give me a hand,” he says, beckoning you to follow him. You grumble a bit, but stand and follow him up the stairs and out of the den. He leads the way through the living room and into the kitchen. They’re fancy, so they have a walk-in pantry, of course. The two of you enter one after another. You start looking at the snack section, deciding what to grab. The good thing about being the one to retrieve the food is that you get to choose whatever you want and there’s nothing the others can say about it.

You’re rifling through the chips and pretzels when you feel a presence close behind you. It’s obviously Matthew, but he’s so close that you can feel the heat of his body radiating into your back. His left hand comes into your field of vision, pressing to the shelves next to your head. You twist your neck to look back at him, confused as to what he’s doing.

You’re not expecting the look he’s giving you. His eyes dark, completely focused in on your face. Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth without your permission. He’s not smiling, his lips parted just a fraction of an inch.

He rests his right hand on your shoulder, using it to turn your entire body around to face him. You can feel how dumbfounded your expression is as you stare up at him, your brow furrowed, your mouth slightly agape. He returns the gesture of looking at your mouth, his tongue quickly flicking out to wet his lips. He looks like he’s about to eat you alive. You would let him.

There’s a long, unbearable stretch of silence as the two of you just stare at each other, faces only a scant few inches apart. If this were anyone else, you would know exactly what’s going on, exactly what they want. But this is Matthew, your insanely wonderful, insanely hot, insanely out of your league friend. There’s no chance that he’s about to do what it feels like he is. No matter how many times you steal glances at each other, how closely he holds you, how many times he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, there’s no chance he’d ever want you. And just as you tell yourself that, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his breath brushing across your lips from the proximity. Your eyes go wide, your mouth falling open wider in shock. You’ve spent the last two years valiantly suppressing any type of attraction you have to him, trying to respect his station as your best friend’s brother. And now, in just four words, he’s let it all loose. It floods you inside, so overwhelming, so much to take all at once that it triggers a full system reset. You swear your heart stops, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to tear the words from your lagging brain.

The words won’t come. The look on Matthew’s face is changing, something embarrassed, something guilty. He moves back an inch and you reach out, unwilling to let him go. You cup his face in your hands, pulling him in to press your lips together.

It’s lingering, almost chaste, and entirely sensational. Your lips are tingling, sparks shooting down your spine. Your chest feels cracked open, your innards exposed for his inspection, your true self exposed for his judgment.

When you pull back and open your eyes, his are still closed. He looks like he’s in heaven, like he’s trying to imprint this moment in his mind the same way that you are. After a moment, his eyelids slide up and he looks at you again. His eyes are hazy, unfocused, his blown pupils leaving only a thin ring of blue around the edge of his iris.

“Again,” he says, breathless, “Please.”

Who are you to deny him?

The second kiss is as good as the first, your breath abandoning your body to pant out against his lips. You meet again, his tongue flicking out for half a second to touch your top lip. It makes you breath hitch, makes you kiss him again, makes you gently bite his full bottom lip. The sound he lets out is barely audible, but it only feeds the fire inside of you, an inferno that blazes up from your hips to your throat. You cradle his face in your hands, hold just strong enough to move his head how you want, to slot your mouths together perfectly each time.

“Hurry up, asshole!”

Brady’s shout violently snaps you out of your haze. You jerk backward, trying to step away, but already pressed against the shelves. Matthew doesn’t seem as put off as you, smiling as if nothing happened. You relinquish your hold on his face, dropping your hands to your sides. His hands had wandered as you kissed, one on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. He squeezes once at the base of your skull, dipping in to give you one last quick kiss.

After frantically grabbing random snacks, you return to the den. You can feel how hot your face is, and you can only hope that it’s not too obvious how flustered you are. You and Matthew deposit the snacks on the coffee table, everyone immediately selecting one. You curl back up in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest as you lay sideways, head on the armrest.

Every time your eyes drift to Matthew for the rest of the evening, he’s looking back.

January, 2021

Just as the day the boys come home is the best day of the year, the day they leave for the season is the worst. Sometimes you wish you were Emma, that you could follow them back and forth and never be without them. But St. Louis is your home, is where you have a job and friends and more recently, family.

You’d helped both boys pack for the past few days, but you won’t be able to go along to drop them off at the airport. When Matthew had left for the playoffs, Emma had offered you her spot in the car. You’d told her that she didn’t have to, but she’d assured you she wanted it that way. She has to go along this time, so the car is already overpacked. Besides, you have to work that morning anyway.

You still show up at the Tkachuks’ beforehand, so early that the sun hasn’t made an appearance yet. Matthew had forgotten to pack his favorite sweater, of course. You fish it out from where it had fallen under his bed, straightening up to hold it out to him. He thanks you, deciding to wear it for the flight instead of shoving it into one of his bags. It looks good on him. Cozy.

Brady and Emma are double checking their room as well, one door down from you. Keith, Chantal, and Taryn are down in the living room, waiting as patiently as they’re capable of, which isn’t very much.

Being alone with Matthew used to be exciting, used to make your heart change its rhythm, used to start up a buzz under your skin. Now, it’s just… comfortable. Safe. Right.

When Matthew approaches you, crowding up into your space, you know exactly what he wants. The first time you’d kissed should have been the last. You’re too drawn to him, feel too much toward him, more than you should. More than he will ever return. The two of you haven’t discussed exactly what you’re doing here, but it’s clearly meant to be casual. Matthew isn’t typically the kind to shy away from voicing what he wants, and he hasn’t spoken up to define anything.

Is that what you want? You’re not sure. Making out like teenagers for months has been nice, has satisfied a part of you. But only a part.

You’re avoiding thinking about what you want, too afraid of what you’ll find. Some part of you, buried deep inside, hidden behind a recently built wall, already knows. If you allow yourself to acknowledge it, this will end badly. If you allow yourself to want, you’ll destroy yourself in the process.

The kisses he lays on your lips stay sweet, gentle presses, just a tease of tongue here and there. His arms are wrapped around you, resting on your shoulders, while your hands rest on his hips. You haven’t progressed past kissing, and you’re not sure if he wants anything beyond this. You’ll take what you can get.

Keith calls up the stairs for you to hurry up, lest the boys miss their flights. Matthew leaves one last peck on your lips, just as he always does before you part. You glance around his room a final time, making sure everything is packed. You help him bring his bags downstairs, help him and Emma get their things outside and into the car. You’ll have to go home as soon as they depart, and you’re actually a little grateful that you have work to distract you from the first hours of missing them.

As per usual, Emma is the first to hug you. You squeeze tight so that you can lift her off of her feet for a second, just to make her laugh. Brady grabs you next, as if both of them know that Matthew wants to be last. Brady wiggles you side to side, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You headbutt his shoulder, then kiss the same spot you’d hit. He says how much he’ll miss you, something he always reiterates for a few days before he leaves. You return the sentiment honestly, earnestly. When he pulls back, you punch his chest lightly, and he returns the gesture.

Matthew steps up and opens his arms, and you step into them easily. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, just holds you close, hand cupping the back of your neck, calming your anxiety and dulling the sharp edge of your pain.

“Gonna miss you so much, sweet girl,” he whispers into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. You try to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat.

“Miss you already,” you reply, a little uneven, a little raw, “Can’t wait to see you again.” He places a kiss on your head as Brady had, but his lips linger, hesitant to let go. But he does let go.

They all wave as they drive off, Brady, Emma, Matthew, and Taryn all crammed into the back seat. You wave back, watching the car go, staring down the street even after the car turns and disappears.

Time to work, you suppose.

July, 2023

Art has never frustrated you so much in your life.

When you were young, the struggle and annoyance came from trying to get things just right, though they were above your skill level. As a teenager, it was due to the struggle of developing your own unique style. In college, it was not having the energy to paint most days, falling asleep at the easel others.

For the past month, the art has been flowing. You’ve been painting most every day, the ideas coming easily, creating almost a compulsion that you can’t resist. It’s only satisfied when the painting is complete. There are a couple dozen or so canvases scattered around your apartment to dry, the most you’ve ever produced in a single month. But the frustration– the frustration comes from the fact that all of your ideas are about him. All of your paintings are moments with him, things he’d said, how you’d felt, how you’d hoped he felt.

There’s a feeling inside of you, as if you’re right on the edge of catharsis, as if you paint just one more thing, you’ll be able to let it all go. That’s your motivation for everything you’ve been making, just desperately searching for the release that will save you from the pain. At this point, you’re not sure it will ever come.

You’re working on a bigger canvas, the biggest you’ve used in years. You’re glad your current job allowed you to move into a bigger apartment, because you surely wouldn’t have been able to fit something like this in your old shoebox, packed so full of your things that you’d barely had space for an 11x14. You have to stand to reach the upper portion, swiping a brighter red over the dark red base. You don’t want it to be about him. It is anyway.

The show at the gallery is rapidly approaching, only a month away. You’ve been working with the curator to decide which pieces to use, filing through years of work. So far, everything that she’s found compelling has been about him. Things you’ve made recently, things you made years ago when things were still good. One day, you’ll get over this. But not today. Today still just hurts.

June, 2021

With neither of the boys making the playoffs, they’d come home earlier than usual this year. Sadly, Brady is pretty used to it by now, usually coming home around this time anyway. You’re used to getting a few weeks with Brady and Emma before Matthew comes home, but you don’t have that this year.

While Brady sulks for about two days when he gets home, Matthew is far more upset. The Flames had made the playoffs for the last couple years, and he was getting used to being a contender. So not even getting a chance at it this year clearly stung. He moped around for a week or two, face tight and arms crossed over his chest most of the time. The only time he let his arms down, let his guard down, is when the two of you were alone.

You’d comforted him through the couple weeks of upset, even staying the night a few times. It wasn’t intentional, you’d just stayed so late that you fell asleep, and Matthew didn’t have the heart to wake you. You have to get up early to get home for work, so you’d snuck your way out of the house before anyone else had woken. You’re not sure how Keith and Chantal would have felt about you staying the night in Matthew’s bed, but you know what they would have thought was going on, and you didn’t want to put yourself or Matthew in that position.

Once he’d relaxed, taken a deep breath and accepted defeat, he went back to being his regular happy, seemingly aloof self. You’re grateful for it, not a fan of seeing him upset and always wanting to help him through and cheer him up.

June had come kindly, bringing along more sun and nicer weather. You and Matthew had resumed your walks in the park, and the whole group of you spend about as much time outside as you do in the den. Things with Matthew had picked up where they left off in January, him pulling you into a secluded area any time he could get you alone, kissing you senseless. You’d missed the feeling of his lips, of his body pressed to yours.

Tonight is one of the more rare nights where Matthew comes to your apartment, instead of you going to his parents’ house. You’ve offered to make dinner and follow it up with movies. You’re already on the couch, your dirty dishes abandoned on the coffee table. You’re laying on your side, Matthew spooned up against your back, your knees hanging off of the couch with the way they’re bent to accommodate Matthew’s too-long legs. You’re warm and comfortable, enjoying the feeling of safety that he brings, something you’ve very rarely felt in your life before.

The movie is good, but you’ve found that being in Matthew’s arms makes you sleepy, so you’re having a hard time focusing. You manage to mostly follow it, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn when the credits start to roll.

You feel Matthew place a kiss on the back of your neck without comment. Then he’s moving you, rearranging your bodies carefully until you’re on your back, Matthew staring down at you from his position straddling your thigh. The way he’s looking at you is intense, somehow simultaneously fond and hungry. It wakes you up almost instantly, and you reach out to rest your hands on his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, reverently. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it feels different now. Maybe it’s the position you’re in, maybe the way he’s looking down at you as if he wants you, as if he–

He takes your hands in his own, bending down as he brings them up to cradle his cheeks. You run your thumbs across his high cheekbones, tilt his head up a little by the jaw as his eyes slide shut. You press your fingers into the soft spot behind his jaw, under his ears, pull him down, down, down.

Kissing him feels as easy as breathing. Guiding his head this way and that to get a better angle, pressing your lips together over and over, longer each time, deeper. Matthew has one hand on the arm of the couch to hold himself up, the other wrapped loosely around your wrist. He’s not trying to move you or take control, just holding on as if he needs something to ground him. You press your thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks, feeling the solid wall of his teeth under the skin. His mouth drops open and he lets out a soft sound. You press your thumbs in harder, between the new gap between his upper and lower teeth, testing how far you can push from the outside.

He squeezes your wrist once and you release the pressure. His mouth stays open, lips wet and shining. He opens his eyes halfway, as if his eyelids are too heavy to get all the way up, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Again, he squeezes your wrist. He’s suddenly standing, using his grip to guide you up as well. He immediately crowds up against you, as if being more than an inch away will kill him. His eyes have managed to refocus, but there’s still a dreamy look in them.

He takes a step backward, using the hand that had instinctively gone to the back of your neck to bring you with him. He kisses you, lingering. He takes another step back, gives you another kiss. He rounds the end of the couch and you realize where he’s leading you, kind of impressed that he can find his way to the bedroom without even looking.

Of course, your heart is a frantic mouse scurrying around your chest, thumping hard like you’re a prey animal facing down a predator. But as much as it freaks out in the cage of your chest, there’s no panic in your head. Being with Matthew calms your mind, keeps your hands from trembling, feels so right that you can’t find a reason for the anxiety that used to plague you around him.

He stops you halfway between the door and the bed, pulling back a couple inches to stare down at you. You’re hesitant to put a name to the look on his face, not sure if reverent is being dramatic.

You flatten your palms against the front of his shoulders, shoving him gently, bullying him toward the bed. He allows it for a moment, but stops after a few steps. He takes your hands in his own, brings them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. You try to swallow down the desire that grows inside of you, threatening to spill out. He holds your hands close to his face, enough that you can feel his lips move when he speaks.

“You don’t have to be in control, sweet girl,” he says, lays another kiss on the bump of your right middle finger, looks deep into your eyes with such adoration you feel ready to split at the seams.

“Let me take care of you,” he says. The part of you that’s spent your entire life with a fist clenched desperately around any sense of control that it could find, for the first time, relinquishes its hold. And Matthew does, indeed, take care of you.

February, 2022

It’s your first time in Vegas, and the atmosphere is electric. There are hockey fans everywhere, plenty of people wearing jerseys as they explore the strip. Everything is so big, so bright, so fancy. As exciting as it is to be here, it makes you feel a little off, a little like you don’t belong. It reminds you of the first time you’d been to the Tkachuks’ house, amazed at how different everything is from the way you grew up.

Each player was supposed to be allotted two tickets, but they had allowed Brady to take additional tickets for his family, considering Matthew is his brother, in addition to how well-known and beloved Keith is. He’d managed to get Emma included as well, luckily.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but Brady had gotten another player to give one of his tickets so that you could come. Apparently the guy’s family couldn’t make the trip, and he only had one friend that he really wanted to bring. He won’t tell you who it was, but the way that Timo Meier winks at you as he passes the stands gives you an idea. You weren’t aware that the two talked, but there’s always the possibility that he had just gone around and asked everyone. The idea makes something bloom in your chest, as if you could love Brady more than you already do. You’ll have to find a way to thank Timo some time.

The skills competitions are fun, though Brady doesn’t win anything. It’s nice to see the players relaxing and having fun, a well-deserved break from the stress of the season.

You all go out to an early meal before the games the next day. You don’t realize until you arrive that Jack Hughes and his family were joining you, and you trip over your own feet when you see them waiting for you. You’re a huge fan of Jack’s, but more than that, Ellen Weinberg-Hughes is an icon. You stumble with your words when you greet her, shaking her hand and screaming silently in your head. With how the boys are looking at you as you do so, they obviously anticipated your reaction and are incredibly satisfied with themselves.

For the meal, you’re sat between Matthew and Jack. You’re grateful that Matthew is next to you, needing his calming presence as you meet some of your favorite players. The families are friendly with each other, the parents catching up on the news of each others’ lives, the children doing the same in separate conversations.

You spend most of the dinner talking to Jack, Quinn, and Matthew. They tell you all sorts of things, including embarrassing stories about Matthew that you weren’t privy to. You grin at Matthew every time they share one, absolutely intending to tease him about it later. This seems to be what the Hughes boys want, eager to give you more ammunition. Matthew buries his face in his hands at one particularly humiliating story, even as he shakes gently with quiet laughter. When he emerges and sits back up, you take a chance, placing your hand on his thigh. You squeeze once, trying to reassure him. He does his best to not react, but he also rests his hand on top of yours under the table.

“So you’re a painter, right?” Quinn asks at one point, curiosity evident in his perpetually sleepy eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, asking “How did you know?” You’d told them about your official job, but you hadn’t mentioned being a traditional artist in addition to a graphic designer. Jack turns a smug smile on you.

“Matthew talks about you a lot,” he says, pleased with himself. You look to Matthew just in time to see his face flush.

“Shut up,” he says to Jack, which only makes him smile wider. Jack’s attitude rubs off on you a little, and you give Matthew a delighted smile.

“How much is a lot?” you ask Jack, feeling Matthew dig his fingertips into your knuckles.

“Like, a lot,” Jack replies, Quinn nodding from his other side. You look back to Matthew, who looks like he wants to crawl under the table and hide.

“I talk about him a lot, too,” you say. That makes Matthew look at you again, bright eyes nearly sparkling in the restaurant’s dim lighting. His expression shifts, a small, grateful smile scrunching his eyes up the slightest bit.

After dinner, you all make your way to the arena. Brady and Jack left a while before the rest of you, needing to arrive in time to get dressed and likely do some more media. Before he’d left, Jack had requested your phone, creating a contact for himself and inputting his number. As he dud, you turned your face away, toward Matthew, opening your mouth wide as if you’re screaming. He looked amused at it, but there’s a sharp edge there. Quinn took the phone next, doing the same thing. You squeezed Matthew’s thigh again, and his expression softened. You’ve been following the Hughes brothers since they were in Juniors, and having them like you enough to want to keep in touch– you can only describe the feeling as elation.

The lines are out the door at the arena, and a few people catch the boys to request photos before you can get to the special entrance for players’ guests. They’re all very kind and courteous about it, taking a few pictures with people, finding a way to move through the crowd even as they do so. You probably should have come a different way, or maybe gotten there earlier, but as long as the boys don’t mind, you don’t either.

The seats are good, the second row of the first balcony. It seems to be the section that they put all of the family and friends, people milling around and chatting with each other. You spot Johnny’s parents a couple rows away, the only people around that you’ve met before. You wave to them and they return the gesture. They make their way down to your seats, greeting each of you in turn. They start chatting with Keith and Chantal, so you continue talking to Taryn and Emma.

The games are great, surprisingly fast. The Atlantic division plays a great game again Central, despite losing by 3. You still can’t help being proud of Brady. You’ve been next to him since his first season, and you’ve loved getting to watch him grow and improve. As long as he’s in the world, you’re going to be proud of him.

The final is awesome too, and you jump up to cheer when Jack scores in the first. When the Metropolitan wins, you high-five Taryn, glad that Jack could win when Brady couldn’t. Not a bad consolation prize.

The group hangs around for a while after, and you get to meet a bunch of new people. Everyone is so nice, making you feel welcome, feel like you belong. When you finally start up the stairs to leave, Johnny’s mom Jane stops you for a second. She pinches your jersey and gives you a sly smile.

“Just a family friend?” she asks, not a question but a suggestion. A few years back, Matthew had given you one of his jerseys to wear to a game, and you’ve worn it tonight, despite him not playing. You realize now how it could be interpreted, ducking your head for a second to smile at the floor, before looking back up to Jane.

“Just a family friend,” you say, firm and definitive. She holds your gaze for a moment, looks behind her at Matthew, who’s waiting patiently a few steps up. He’s looking at you, that soft look he gives you sometimes. After a second, he smiles brightly at Jane. She waves and turns back to you.

“We’ll see,” she says. She pats your shoulder twice before making her own way up the stairs with Guy. Once you process the statement, you shake your head and make your way up to Matthew.

“What was that?” he asks as you enter the corridor. There’s no way you can tell him the truth, and honestly, you’re not sure what the fuck that was either. You just shrug at him, continuing your way out of the arena.

The comment sticks with you, no matter how you try to brush it off. Johnny is Matthew’s best friend, and you’ve met Jane a few times before. If it had been a stranger, you would’ve dismissed it outright. But to hear it from someone who actually knows the two of you? That’s harder to let go.

July, 2023

Laurel, the curator for the gallery hosting your show, is a lovely woman. She’s also very, very good at her job. You’ve been to countless shows at this gallery, and they’re always perfectly compiled, excellently arranged. You’ve brought her your most recent paintings today, which makes you glad that you have a car, because hauling them through the city would be a nightmare.

The only problem you have with Laurel is that she seems to see straight through you. You’re not used to someone looking past the professional figure you present, let alone someone seeing every part of you that you put into your art.

She’s staring at your offerings, examining every last detail. She’s already chosen about half of the pieces that will be displayed, creating a theme with your relatively impressionist style. She moves one canvas to the side, away from the others. She takes an extra few minutes to consider one of them, the largest one. It just finished drying yesterday. Having to see it every day as you passed it in the living room has been torture.

“Everything except that one,” she says, gesturing to the one she’d set aside. If she wants all of these, that’s likely going to be everything for the show. With everything else she’s chosen, this is all they have the wall space for, considering the way that you’ve seen Laurel arrange the art in previous shows you’d attended.

“That one is the centerpiece,” she adds, hand against her cheek as she continues staring at the large canvas. You swallow hard. Of course. Of course every painting she likes is about him. Of course the centerpiece will be him. No matter what you do, you’ll never escape him.

She asks a bit about your inspiration and motivation for the piece, and you give her vague answers that sound more philosophical than the real thing. The two of you discuss some of the minutiae of the show, trying to get everything finalized ahead of time. There’s less than a month left, and your excitement is starting to pair itself with dread.

When you get home, you go straight to your bedroom and throw yourself face first onto your mattress. You bury your face in a pillow, finally letting out the scream that’s been stuck in your throat since you learned of Tessa’s existence. It helps.

You make and have dinner, barely aware of what you’re eating. At least you can eat without getting nauseous now. You don’t feel like watching TV, probably wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a real show right now. Instead, you sit on your bed, leaning back against the headboard. You scroll social media mindlessly for a while, the ghost of Matthew next to you, his invisible arm pressed against yours.

February, 2022

Despite your better judgment, the first time you and Matthew had slept together wasn’t the last, either. It had continued through last summer, then again when he’d come to play the Blues. Now you’re in Calgary, in Matthew’s apartment for the first time, in his bed again.

A lot of people idolize the first time they sleep with someone, comparing every subsequent time to the first and often coming out disappointed. You had no reason to do so, because the sex only got better over time. As you and Matthew learned each other’s bodies, figured out what got the best reactions, the sex kept improving. Even if you wanted to fall back on your morals and resist him out of respect for Brady, you know you couldn’t stay away for long. It’s irresistible.

And it’s not just the sex. It’s the way he holds you after, lays on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest. It’s the way his breath ruffles your hair as you fall asleep together. It’s the things he says to you.

It’s the nights like this.

You’re in Matthew’s bedroom, the dark dead of night offering only the moon to light the room. Your head is on Matthew’s chest, his arm around you to keep you close, as if you would ever willingly leave. Your breathing had returned to normal a while ago, your body cooling off and beginning to recover from the rush of feeling. Matthew kisses the top of your head every so often, and you return the sentiment by tilting your head to lay kisses against his sternum.

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” he says, so hushed that you almost miss it. He’s always so quiet when he talks like this, as if he’s afraid to say it. He says these kinds of things anyway, but never above a whisper, not willing to share the vulnerability with anyone but you. Again, you press your lips into his skin.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” you reply. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To stay here, with him. No need to be quiet so as not to wake his family, no having to sneak out in the morning, no work to keep you away. Just laying here, together.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he says. There’s desire in his voice, of course, but also earnesty, like he really means it. Part of you would like to believe that he does, but another part knows how important it is to not get caught up in the fantasy. It’s easier said than done.

“Not any of the other girls you’ve had?” you ask. You’d meant for it to come out teasing, but your honest curiosity wins out. Then there’s a hand on your chin, fingers gently guiding your head up until you’re looking Matthew in the eye. It’s not exactly comfortable to crane your neck like this, so you prop yourself up on one forearm, resting the other hand where your head had been as you stare down at him.

“Never,” he replies, insistent. He looks so serious, sounds so sincere. You don’t say anything, can’t think of anything. There’s something in the wide roundness of his eyes that speaks to you, pulls you in, encourages you to search deeper. It takes a second to figure out what it is that’s hiding in there, but… it’s fear.

“I never want this with anyone else,” he says, tangling his fingers with yours over his racing heart. There’s a question you want to ask, something you’ve been wanting to ask for a while, but the fear in him has mirrored itself within you. You should just shut up, keep it to yourself. The words come out before you can convince yourself to stay quiet.

“What is this?” you ask. You’re not sure what answer you’re expecting, but you know which one you’re hoping for. He takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and for the first time, you don’t divert your gaze to admire the sheen of them, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, pauses, presses your entwined hands harder to his chest, “But I never want to give it up.”

May, 2022

Again, Matthew is the second to come home. Brady returned almost a month before in April, the Senators not in the playoffs, as usual. You feel bad sometimes, because Brady is genuinely a great player, but his team has just struggled to gel together. Even through all of their trials, Brady insists on keeping hope. He loves his teammates, and that’s what really matters to him.

Matthew, on the other hand, isn’t so great at dealing with failure. The Flames make it to the second round, which is an achievement all on its own. But after winning Game 1, they’d lost four in a row and been knocked out. It feels to Matthew almost like they got swept, he explains over the phone after the final loss.

When he gets home, he once again spends a week sulking. You mimic what you’d done last year, though staying the night is intentional this time. So long as you sneak out before anyone wakes up, you’ll be fine.

On the eighth day, you tell Matthew for the hundredth time how proud of him you are. He shoots you a bittersweet smile and says that he’s proud of himself too, and you know he’s bouncing back. It doesn’t help that he’s been debating for months whether to re-sign with the Flames, an agonizing choice for him. He loves his boys, but he’s not sure he belongs there anymore. You’ve assured him that you’ll support him no matter what decision he makes. Johnny hits free agency next month, and if he moves, you’re not sure that Matthew will have the motivation to stay.

The next couple of weeks go by the same way that they always do, with you spending as much time with the Tkachuks as possible. At least, you think you’re doing a good job of acting like everything is the same as years past. No one knows about you and Matthew, and it seems like he wants to keep it that way. You like having this little secret life with him, getting to have him all to yourself. You’re okay with the way it is, you convince yourself.

June came quickly, having begun only four days after he’d returned. The weather improves, you and Matthew once again resume your walks in the park. You play yard games and watch trash TV with Brady and Emma. You help Chantal cook dinners, help Keith clean up afterward. Everything is back to the summer standard.

The day had been nice, sunny and warm. The light had turned the leaves of the trees golden during your walk this afternoon. The sun is long gone now. Nighttime has become your favorite part of the day, the only time you get to indulge in whatever it is that you and Matthew have. The only time you get to touch his skin, to hear the low sounds he can’t help but make, to feel his warmth against you, inside you.

It’s been some time since you’d finished, but you can’t quite fall asleep. Matthew is spooned up against your back, face buried in the nape of your neck. You’re not sure if he’s asleep or not, too distracted to bother trying to figure it out. You’ve been thinking about it since your visit to Calgary. Any time Matthew called, or texted, or even crossed your mind, you thought of it. It made your heart leap into your throat, your breath catching as you choked on it.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing together, what you are. He didn’t give the response you’d been hoping for, but he didn’t outright deny it either. Sometimes you think it would have been better if he had, if he’d said that it was just sex. Then you could start working on moving on. You wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, wondering.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his groggy voice making you startle and snapping you out of your head. You take a deep breath, debating yourself for a couple seconds before you decide.

“Nothing,” you reply, patting his forearm where it’s snaked around your waist, “Go back to sleep.” He takes a quick, deep breath, the air rushing out over your skin. You’re helpless to resist when he starts moving you. If you did put up a fight, push back against his hands, you know he would stop. But you’re tired.

“What’s wrong?” he asks again once you’re flipped to face him. He looks tired too, the exhaustion of the season still lingering. The moonlight paints his face in silver. It makes his skin shine, almost glowing in the darkness.

“I’m afraid,” you say. You wish he hadn’t turned you around. It would be easier to speak it into the wall than it is to say to his face. You say it anyway, watching his brow furrow, admiring the way the silver light adds contrast to the wrinkles the expression creates.

“Of what?” he asks. You could make something up. Telling him that you’re afraid of monsters under the bed would be less embarrassing. You’ve never been very good at lying to him.

“The day you move on,” you whisper, invisible pressure on your throat making the words come out tight and unsteady. The surprise on his face surprises you in return. He’d refused to put words or labels to whatever this is, of course you would think that he’s going to leave eventually. You’d have to be an idiot to think that he means it when he says forever.

“I won’t,” he says, resolute. You can only manage a half-smile for him.

“You’re not the first man to say that,” you reply. He reaches up and cradles your cheek in his wide palm, warmth seeping into your skin.

“But I’m the first one to mean it,” he says. You close your eyes. They begin to prickle at the corners, but you refuse to cry about any of this. He’s so adamant, so steadfast in his insistence. You try to remind yourself of what this isn’t, what it will never be, but you’ve never trusted someone the way you trust him, and you can’t help believing him anyway.

August, 2023

You hadn’t anticipated this happening, let alone how hard it would be, but finally, finally it’s a little bit easier.

You’re not over Matthew, not by a long shot. It’s going to take months, years. It may never happen, who knows? As long as you can cope with it, can keep your friends around, that’s all that matters.

The first half of the day was spent with both boys and their girls. You didn’t have to curl up so tightly on your chair, didn’t have to force words out so they didn’t think anything was wrong. Conversation was relatively easy, topics changing and flowing naturally. You’d smiled, laughed, and a couple of times you actually meant it.

Matthew had apparently planned a date for Tessa and himself, so they excuse themselves in the late afternoon. Brady, Emma, and you stick around the den for a bit, continuing to talk. Eventually, Emma stands, stretching dramatically.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests. You’ve spent too much time lately sitting at an easel or curled up in bed, and a walk sounds like a great idea.

You expect it this time when Brady takes the three of you to the same park. It’s easier when you’re not blindsided by it, and you have the lovely memory of the last time you were here with the two to focus on, instead of Matthew. You walk for a while, music playing softly from Emma’s phone, tucked in her back pocket. Once you’re deep into the wooded area of the park, she stops dead in her tracks. You follow suit, spinning around to shoot her an inquisitive look. She takes the two steps forward to close the space between you two, grabbing you by the shoulders and walking you backward. You stumble, trying to look behind yourself to keep from falling. She pushes until the backs of your knees hit a bench on the side of the pathway and you fall onto it. You gape up at her, befuddled by the behavior and the way her arms are crossed over her chest.

“What’s going on,” she demands, not a question. You furrow your brow, at a loss for words. You know what she’s talking about, and you know that she knows that you know. But why would she wait until the day that it starts to fade, the day that you can finally think of something else, to ask you about it?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Brady says, plopping down on the bench next to you, “We know something’s wrong.” You had accepted the possibility of this back in June, but you weren’t expecting it to take almost three months for it to happen.

Your first instinct is that you absolutely can’t tell them. You’ve been keeping this secret for years, and if Matthew has his way, you’ll keep it forever. If Matthew gets his way, you repeat in your head. That’s it, isn’t it? All this time, you’ve been so focused on what Matthew wants that you ignored your own wanting. What do you want?

You want to tell someone, to finally have this horrid pain out in the open instead of keeping it caged up around your heart. You want your best friend and his wife to hug you. You want them to understand.

“Matthew,” the name tumbles out, and you don’t want to stop it. Brady and Emma are still looking at you, waiting for anything you want to tell them. God, Brady is your goddamn best friend and you’d convinced yourself that you couldn’t tell him something? That there was anything on this earth that he would shun you for?

It all comes spilling out in a rush. Everything from the first time you’d met him. Hell, some information that isn’t strictly necessary, but they don’t interrupt you or complain, so you venture on. It takes long enough to recount that Emma sits on the metal armrest of the bench. Brady’s holding one of your hands in his lap, Emma taking the other to do the same.

You’d promised yourself more than once that you wouldn’t cry about this, but you don’t really care enough to stop yourself now. The tears come two-thirds of the way through, falling silently as you recount some of the things Matthew had told you, the things he’d promised you. You’re not outright sobbing, so you manage to power through the rest of the story. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut by the end, like closing them will block out the memories.

It takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop. The three of you let the silence hang as you wait for it, nothing but the leaves rustling in the trees, something scurrying in the bushes. When you can safely open your eyes to face the world again, you look over to Brady. He looks devastated.

You watch his evolving emotions morph the expression on his face, from heartbreak to anger and back again. The anger makes your heart skip a beat, suddenly afraid that maybe the whole “I slept with your brother” thing will be a problem after all.

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” he asks, startling a laugh out of you. You know he’s dead serious, too. Part of you thinks it might be cathartic to see Matthew get beat up by his little brother, but your soft heart doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. After everything he’s done to you, you still don’t want him to have to feel even a fraction of the pain you do.

February, 2023

This year, the boys don’t have to bribe anyone else to get you to the All Star Game. Each of them is allotted two tickets as per usual, but Taryn is too busy with school to come. She’d aimed a satisfied smirk at Matthew through the camera of her phone, saying guess you’ll have to take that one along as her eyes darted slightly to the left, clearly looking at where you were on the screen.

Since your work is remote, you’ve brought along your laptop. You spend the morning of the skills competition working, still averse to using your PTO if it’s not completely necessary. The boys have to do media, so there’s no one around to bother or distract you. You kind of wish there were.

The special skills competitions are as fun this year as they were last. You especially love Sidney Crosby in the dunk tank, seemingly having the time of his life. You may not know him personally, only having met him once in passing, but after everything he’s been through, you think he deserves some carefree fun.

The sun has set by time you emerge from the arena after the regular skills competitions. The days are shorter at this time of year, even in Florida. It is warmer than St. Louis, though, which you’re grateful for.

Jack is in the competition again this year, so you meet up with the Weinberg-Hugheses again that night. You’ve gotten much closer with Jack and Quinn over the past year, building relationships on texts and calls and dinners when they play the Blues. Luke has tagged along this time, and you get on with him just as well as his brothers.

Matthew shoots Jack a look when he slings an arm around you on the way back to your hotels after dinner, but Jack just grins at him. You’re still not sure what that’s all about, but you’re just going to stay out of it.

The games the next day are fantastic. You’ve never gotten to watch both of your boys win at once, and you love it. When the Atlantic wins the whole thing, you cheer so loudly your voice cracks. Emma laughs at you, but you just laugh along with her.

You stick around for a bit after the game again, Keith and Chantal mingling while Emma shows you the decorations she’s planning for the wedding on her phone. After a while, someone taps you on the shoulder from behind. You turn your head, immediately recognizing Jane. Johnny had made it again this year with his new team, so it would make sense that she’s here too. You stand, reaching up to hug her in her elevated position.

“Matthew got you a new jersey?” she asks, referencing the All-Star jersey you’ve got on. You wish you could say that you bought it for yourself, but it had indeed been a gift from Matthew. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, so you act like it’s not, even though it is.

“Yeah, he’s a great friend,” you reply, shrugging, “He likes to take care of me.” The thing about Jane is that she’s not really a jerk. Sometimes the you-and-Matthew comments bother you, but she’s generally a very sweet woman.

“It’s good to have someone like that,” she says, smiling gently at you, “Matthew is a good boy.” Jane had been at enough Flames games for you to know her, and definitely enough for Matthew to become a pseudo-son to her. They don’t interact much anymore, save for when she pops up in the back of Johnny’s facetimes, but you know she still has a soft spot for him. You don’t blame her.

“He really is,” you agree, nodding. The two of you make some small talk, and you get some updates on Johnny’s new life on the Blue Jackets. You give her some updates on Matthew in return. After a bit, Guy shuffles up next to Jane, telling her that it’s time to go. She acknowledges him quickly, turning back to take one of your hands in her own.

“I know he takes care of you,” she says, patting the back of your hand with her second, “But you take care of that boy, too. Okay?” You just nod, smiling and bidding her goodbye. Her and Guy retreat up the steps and out of view. You’re not sure why she feels the need to say these things to you, and you’re not sure why you take them to heart.

You meet Matthew and Brady outside the player entrance, the boys immediately scooping up you and Emma, respectively. Matthew sweeps you off of your feet for a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Once you’re free, you start to dip forward, realizing what you’re doing at the last second and changing track to make sure the kiss lands on his cheek.

He beams at you, and you’re absolutely certain that you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make him smile.

April, 2023

The day Brady comes home is the best day of the year, you remind yourself for the thousandth time. You’re excited to see him, you are. The way your chest has felt rent open for days isn’t his fault in any way. You’re not going to make him pay for being the messenger.

Once you all get the couple home, you go upstairs with Brady and Emma to help them unpack. They don’t really need help, obviously, but it’s an excuse to spend time together. Brady talks a little about the season, but mostly focuses on his plans for the summer. He talks about wanting to go see G, maybe even take a trip out to visit Tim.

For the most part, you just fold clothes and listen. Eventually, they switch to the topic of the wedding, Emma showing you even more pictures. She’d asked you to be a bridesmaid forever ago, so you’ve already seen most of it, had even helped her pick half of it out, but you’re never going to squash her excitement.

Exhausted from their travel, the two make their way down to the den after everything is put away, collapsing onto the couch. You curl up in your chair, allowing the couple to choose what you watch. They pick something or another, nothing that you can pay attention to right now. Instead, you find yourself examining Brady, picking apart his features, finding all the things he shares with Matthew.

It’s the best day of the year, you remind yourself again. The light of the TV highlights Brady’s jawbone and your skin crawls.

August, 2023

The show is going exceptionally well, exceeding your expectations. The space is filled with strangers, friends, and even your brother and his family. There are critics and collectors, some that you’ve seen at other people’s shows, some that you don’t recognize. Everyone wants to talk to you, and you don’t get a spare moment to breathe for the first few hours.

When you do get a chance to exhale, the rich couple that had been occupying you finally walking away, you catch the color out of the corner of your eye. You’ve been all around the building all night, mingling and networking in equal measure. You hadn’t realized where you ended up until right this second. You turn to the piece, staring as if you’d never seen it before.

You don’t need to look over to see who steps up next to you a minute later.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Matthew says. It doesn’t feel like an accusation, though it is one. All you can do is sigh.

“What did you expect me to do?” you ask, not expecting an answer. You glance at his hands out of the corner of your eye, noticing the wine glass in one hand, water glass in the other. Without a word, Matthew holds the water out in your direction, still fixated on the painting. You take it, feeling odd that not only does Matthew know that you forget to drink enough water, but also that he’s still trying to take care of you.

“It’s me,” he says after a pause. You’re both facing the largest canvas, the centerpiece. Swirls of bright red spread across a crimson background, highlighted with orange, accented with a royal purple. There, in the center, are two comparatively small, even circles of icy blue.

“They’re all you. Or about you, at least,” you say, seeing no need to deny it any longer, “About us.” It’s obvious that Matthew hadn’t expected you to admit it outright, thrown off for a minute by the admission.

“Can we talk?” he asks as you take a sip of water.

“We’re talking right now,” you reply, feeling petty. It’s his turn to sigh. He sets his wine glass down on the nearest horizontal surface before returning to your side, facing you this time.

“Somewhere private,” he clarifies, pauses, “Please.” You may be mad at him, enraged, incensed, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything, and you still can’t, even now.

You shut the storage room door behind you, flicking on the light to chase away the darkness. Matthew has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around as if there’s anything interesting in here. You cross your arms over your chest, waiting for him to nut up and look you in the face.

“Listen,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck but still not looking at you, “I know I should have gone about this better.” You snort. No shit. The sound finally brings Matthew’s gaze to meet your own.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Matthew says, motioning with his raised hand, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.” You can feel how incredulous your expression is, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“In what world would I not be upset?” you respond, “After everything?” You can hear yourself, know you sound like a bitter, jealous old ex, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and looks away again. When he looks back, there’s an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, more sincerely than the first time, “You shouldn’t have had to find out from Brady.” You avert your gaze, working your jaw for a second before you raise your chin and square your shoulders.

“No,” you agree, “I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you,” he says, motioning helplessly with his hands, “You have to know how hard that was.” You shake your head, almost disgusted.

“Imagine how hard it was for me,” you reply. Your fingertips are digging into your own arm, fingernails biting into the skin. The fact that he would stand here and imply that this was a struggle for him– as if he expects you to offer sympathy– makes your stomach churn. The guilt in his expression makes you sickly satisfied.

“Listen,” he leads with that word again, as if he has any right to ask it of you, “I didn’t want to upset her. You know how some girls are.” You do know. And it’s still not an excuse.

“You didn’t tell her about me,” you say, anger and hurt straining your voice, “You said that I was just Brady’s best friend. You didn’t even tell her what we had.” You want to scream it at him, just want to scream in general. Maybe if you did, if you released your tight grip on control in a different way than you had with him, maybe it would make him understand.

“What did we have?” he asks. His voice is quiet, just as yours had been when you’d brought up the topic all those months ago.

“I don’t know,” you say, turning his own words back on him. It’s true, anyway. You’ve never known what any of this was. You’d only known what you wanted it to be, what you stupidly, fruitlessly hoped for.

“We never dated,” he replies, voice still low but seemingly not bothered by the uncertainty, “We never called it a relationship. You were never my girlfriend.” It’s a simple fact. It tears your heart out of your chest.

“Just because we didn’t name it doesn’t mean it was nothing,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut for a second to push down the urge to cry before admitting, “I stopped dating.” He looks even guiltier at that, but it doesn’t soothe anything in you.

“I didn’t look at another man,” you continue, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to let him continue through life without knowing, “I didn’t even want to look at anyone else.” The shame makes the fiery anger burn brighter.

“I gave you three years of my fucking life,” you say, voice raising just enough to make Matthew flinch. You keep it reigned in enough that no one outside will hear, not interested in sharing this conversation with anyone else, especially not potential business contacts. The flames engulf your chest, lick up at your throat, threaten to consume you.

“I never asked you to do that,” Matthew replies, solemn. Your jaw drops, just half an inch, enough to part your lips as your breath hitches. He never asked. He never fucking–

“You–” you begin, breath catching in your throat as your eyes burn with tears you refuse to let escape, “Everything you said, everything you did, and you expected what? For me to just move on?” Your nails are digging so deeply into your biceps that you’re surprised they haven’t drawn blood. Matthew doesn’t respond right away, and you can’t tamp down the impulse to be petty.

“But I guess that’s what you did, huh?” you jab. Matthew shuts his eyes tightly, fists clenching like he wants to fight. It should be threatening, but you’ve always known that he would never dream of laying a finger on you in violence. But then again, you’d thought you knew a lot of things about him.

“Why do you care?” he asks, shoulders tense as he opens his eyes to stare you down, “You don’t even want me.” That shocks a laugh out of you, so completely ridiculous that you can’t help it.

“That’s the most fucked up part– I do want you,” you respond, simultaneously an answer and an admission. His brow furrows as he continues looking at you, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Did you seriously think I didn’t?” you ask, more of a demand, slightly offended because, “Do you think I said all those things for fun? For shits and giggles?” You can’t read his expression, don’t even bother trying. He can feel whatever he wants. That’s not your concern anymore. All you care about is the cold spreading through you, crawling up from the tips of your fingers, freezing your arms, creeping into your chest and beginning to extinguish your rage.

“I loved you, dickhead,” you continue, the words spilling out of you starting to sound pathetic, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold on to the anger, putting the last grasp of it into the words, “Stupid fucking idiot asshole, I loved you.” Matthew gapes at you, hands going lax at his sides. His jaw moves as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I loved you and you threw me away like garbage, and didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself,” you force the sentence out, feeling like you’re choking on every syllable. Matthew’s breathing stutters. You’re expecting annoyance, irritation, maybe even shame or guilt. You’re not expecting his wide eyes, his eyebrows turned up in the middle, his slack jaw.

“You loved me?” he finally asks after a few agonizingly long seconds of silence. There’s something in his voice that you tell yourself you don’t care to analyze.

“Of course I did. How could I not?” you say, huffing as you look upwards, needing a momentary break from this staring contest, “The pathetic part, the part that makes me hate myself, is that I still do.” It’s physically painful to say, no matter that the hurt is psychosomatic. You’ve spent the last few minutes breaking open your ribcage, one bone at a time, revealing to him the space you’d made for him inside of yourself.

“You love me?” he asks, so dumbfounded that he’s repeating himself.

“Yes, Matthew,” you say, facing up to the dread inside of you, the one fact you’ve been struggling with the most since you’d found out the news.

“And I’m terrified. Because I’ve always loved you,” you pour out, barely able to hold yourself together as you meet his eyes, “And I’m afraid that I always will.” There’s not even space for half of a breath before Matthew speaks.

“Please do,” he says. His hands are open, palms facing your direction, as if pleading.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t know,” he says, and apparently he’s decided it’s his turn to reveal himself, “I was surprised that you wanted anything to do with me at all. But then you kissed me, and I spent the next three years waiting for you to leave.” The confusion comes over you so quickly that it almost masks the hurt.

“Why would I leave?” you ask. There’s been nothing subtle about your feelings. You’ve told him that he’s the only one you want, that you want to spend the rest of your life by his side, that he’ll always be the only one. How could he hear all of that and think that you would ever leave?

“Because you’re smart and kind and funny and hardworking–” he starts listing off.

“Tessa is all of those things too,” you cut him off. It doesn’t come out as resentful as you would’ve expected a sentence like that to. As you’ve told Terri, you really have nothing against Tessa. Besides, she really is everything he’s saying.

“But she’s not you,” his response comes immediately, emphatically, “I don’t want just anyone like that; I want you, and you happen to be that way.” You’re stunned into silence.

“It’s not the traits, it’s you,” he says, insistent, like he’s trying to convince you of your own worth, “And I kept waiting for you to find someone else, someone who wasn’t hotheaded and self-centered and–” He stops himself, swallowing so hard you can see his throat stutter under the thin skin of his neck.

“Someone better,” he finishes. The thing is that Matthew doesn’t have low self-esteem. He knows he’s a catch, and yet… And yet, he’s standing here, admitting that he’d still thought of you as being so far above him that you could never want him. And it’s not that there isn’t probably someone out there better than him–

“I never wanted someone better,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. Growing up, you’d created this picture of the perfect man, told yourself that you’d find him one day, would never settle for less. Then you’d met Matthew, and he was nothing like that imaginary ideal. He was flawed; he was real. And you couldn’t help but love him for it.

“And I never wanted anyone else,” he replies, his own voice hushed to match yours, but no less certain, “I still don’t.” Three months ago, you would’ve given anything to hear that. But things are different now.

“I thought that if I went and found someone like you, someone close enough, that I could fall for them too,” he confesses, shame making his face tense, “I thought that if I stopped talking to you, if I kept my distance, that I could get over you.” A fraction of the anger buds in your chest at the idea.

“So you’re using Tessa,” you accuse, instantly offended on her behalf.

“No!” Matthew denies emphatically, pauses, shakes his head, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” If he is using her, at least he seems ashamed about it. Something in his posture makes you think he isn’t, that he really thought he could love her.

“Look, she’s great. She’s amazing. She’s too good for me, too,” his shoulders have been hunched up to his ears, but they fall now, defeated, “She talks about that spark she felt when we met, the way she feels about me now, and I want, I really want to feel that way too. It would be easier if I could.” Believing this entire time that he truly loves her has been hell for you, but it’s still somehow worse to know that he doesn’t. That he did all of this, hurt you so deeply, for someone he doesn’t even love.

“As much as I’ve tried, I don’t. And I can’t,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor, “And if I’d ever thought that I had the slightest chance with you, I never would have dated her to begin with.” All these years, all those words, all the touches you’ve shared, and he’d still never taken you seriously. It’s not your fault, you know. But you realize now that for every time you’d indirectly confessed your feelings to him, he’d said the same things back. He’d returned every sentiment readily, easily. And as much as he’d apparently had the same idea as you, that the other could never love you back, you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve been just as ignorant of his feelings as he was of yours, just as deep in denial. And now there’s this rift between you, a deep chasm that keeps you apart, all for no reason.

“So, what now?” you ask. There’s nothing else to ask.

“What?” he seems genuinely confused.

“What now?” you repeat, too tired to be upset anymore, “You break her heart? Or do you keep pretending? Fake your way into a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?” His confusion persists, tongue darting out to wet his lip the way it always does when he’s anxious.

“I thought–” he shakes his head the tiniest bit, as if he can’t believe what’s happening, “I mean, I love you. I want to be with you.” There’s a sadness sitting heavy in your chest, only getting deeper at his words.

“I love you too,” you say, tipping your head an inch to the right, perfectly aware of how melancholy your smile must be, “But you hurt me, and now you have to hurt her too. I thought you were better than this.” You’d thought the world of him. You don’t hate him now, could never force yourself to. But you are disappointed in how everything has played out.

“I thought you didn’t want better?” he says, not really a question. Your lips turn up another centimeter at that.

“Listen,” you say, turning the word back on him. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly. He stays quiet.

“The opportunity of a lifetime is on the other side of that door,” you gesture vaguely over your shoulder, then let your arms relax, your hands fall to your sides, “I don’t know what to do with any of–” you give another vague gesture, “--This.” The devastation is writ clear on his face, telegraphed by his posture, bared in the forefront of his miserably beautiful eyes.

“Out there?” you say, smile still in place, “I know exactly what I want. So I’m going to go get it.” you pause, take another deep breath, “And maybe you’ll be there tomorrow, and maybe you won’t.”

“I will,” he jumps in. You huff an almost-laugh.

“We can figure this all out later,” you say, sure a definite, “For now, I have to focus on the things that I’m sure of.” He nods, looks at the floor, raises his head and looks back at you.

“Did you used to be sure of me?” he asks, an uneven, shaky whisper.

“Yeah,” you say, your entire being feeling so heavy that you can barely hold yourself upright, “I used to be.”

September, 2023

While Brady had departed yesterday, Matthew doesn’t leave until tomorrow. It took some internal debate, but you’ve decided not to go along to drop him off at the airport. His family will think it’s weird if he doesn’t hug you, and you’re not sure if you can handle him touching you yet.

You’re curled up on the couch with a book, letting yourself get lost in the story. A knock comes on the door and you startle. You mark your page and stand, rounding the couch to open the door. When you do, Matthew is standing there.

“Hey,” he greets, giving you the same bittersweet smile you’ve become accustomed to over the past few weeks. You’d given him a key to your apartment right after you’d moved, but you appreciate him not using it right now. You welcome him in with a gesture of your hand, turning to lead the way. You get four steps away before he speaks.

“I broke up with Tessa,” he blurts out. He doesn’t seem happy about it, but he doesn’t seem particularly sad either.

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, “You’re that sure that I’ll take you back?” The anger comes and goes as it pleases, and it’s starting to sneak through the space between your ribs.

“No,” Matthew says, looking so unbearably fond of you, “I think you’ll tell me to get fucked.” Some days you want to.

“Then why did you break up with her?” you ask. Part of you has been wondering if, despite everything he’d said, he would stay with her. You’re not sure you would have been able to keep the conversation to yourself if he had, but you would have at least tried.

“Because none of this is fair to her,” he answers, shrugging, “She deserves someone who feels the same way about her that she does them. Someone who’s obsessed with her. She doesn’t deserve to be settled for.” You examine his expression, his stance, and realize that he’s truly being honest. He genuinely wants the best for her.

“How’d she take it?” you can’t help but ask. It makes him grin down at the floor for a moment.

“Honestly?” he asks when he raises his head, “Not great. Could have been worse, though.” As much as you love Matthew, you would have been proud of Tessa if she had slapped him.

“Probably should’ve been worse,” you reply. He grins again, tilting his head as he admires your face.

“Probably,” he agrees. For long moments, you both stand still, eyes locked.

“What now?” you ask, the same question as a couple weeks ago. He shrugs again, but he doesn’t seem as miserable or desperate as he had at the gallery.

“I don’t know,” he replies, that same phrase that you’re still trying to make peace with, “I know what I want. Same thing I’ve wanted this entire time. So I guess it’s up to you.” After three years of him encouraging you to give up control, to let go and follow his lead, he’s handing you the reigns now. However this ends or continues is completely your decision.

“You leave tomorrow,” you say, though you’re both viscerally aware of the fact.

“Yeah,” he gives you the crooked smile that had captured you the first time you’d met, “Don’t suppose you want to come with me? The winter weather’s nicer in Florida.” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“If you’d asked me that last summer, I probably would’ve said yes,” you admit. You kind of expect him to react with sadness, but you prefer the hope that blooms on his face.

“Maybe I’ll ask you again next summer?” he suggests, offering you the option. At this point, you have no idea where your relationship will be at this time next year. You don’t know if you’ll even have a relationship, of any kind. But if he’s willing to try, so are you.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling wider than you have in a long while, “Next summer.”

June, 2024

The Hughes brothers are a funny trio. Seeing Jack’s upbeat, outgoing energy bookended on each side by two reserved, perpetually exhausted brothers is always kind of funny. You’d run down the pavement from the Tkachuk’s door to the driveway when you’d seen Quinn climb out of the car’s driver seat, immediately sweeping him up in a hug. The boys had decided to road trip around this summer, so of course you’d strongly suggested that they visit you.

You help them haul their bags out of the trunk, taking Luke’s backpack in hand and insisting on carrying it in for him. The three of them had started teasing you the instant they saw that Matthew hadn’t come out with you.

“Come on, I heard him at the All Star game,” Jack pesters, voice taking a mocking edge as he croons, “Sweet girl.” You laugh brightly, stopping the careful steps you’re taking backwards up the pathway to the house.

“We weren’t dating, I swear,” you insist. Plenty of people over the years have accused you of dating Matthew, but at least he’s funny about it. He stops in front of you, lifting his chin and giving a shit-eating smile.

“Wait, weren’t?” he asks, “As in, past tense?” You feel heat begin to crawl up your face. You’d intended to tell them, of course, but not the second they got here.

“Yeah,” Matthew calls from behind you, and you twist around to watch him close the space between you, “Past tense.” Jack’s glee is overt, but you can see the little signs of happiness on the other two boys’ faces too. Matthew lines himself up against your back, wrapping his arms around you, the gaudy Cup ring on his finger glinting in the light.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can’t see him, but Jack’s smug face makes you sure that Matthew is staring straight at him. “My sweet girl,” Matthew says. It might be the best thing you’ve ever heard.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #the winter fic exchange 2k24 #RI #andi's coping mechanism

[ilovetopgunsstuff]

overdue

joe burrow x reader

prompt: joe cancels last minute on you because he got caught up at work, and he makes sure you know how he feels about you when he gets home.

warnings- smut and fluff

a/n- promise i will be answering some of my requests soon. this is prolly ass because i wrote it kinda fast but i love it thx bye

Joe was a busy guy. It was always something. He had practice, or a meeting, or a conference call, or something. Of course you couldn’t blame him. He was pretty busy during the season, but was practically glued to you when he didn’t have anything to do.

The last few weeks, though, Joe was sooo caught up with work. When he got home for the night, it was so late that you were usually already asleep. If you weren’t, you knew he was too exhausted to do much anyway. He’d give you a kiss, head to the shower, and pass out next to you shortly after. He’d always apologize, but you knew he really couldn’t control it. So despite your frustration and loneliness, you said nothing.

Today would be different, he pulled some strings to get home around 8 so y’all could have dinner, watch something on TV, and enjoy each others company. It had felt so long since you did something like this, so it felt like a special occasion. Tonight, you were cooking his favorite meal. You grilled chicken, made potatoes, and sautéed asparagus. It was about 7:30, and you would be done right when he got home. Your phone rang, and seeing his name on the screen, you perked up.

“Hey!,” you said cheerfully into the phone.

“Hey…” His voice was soft and already apologetic. You knew the news before he even told you.

“You’re not gonna make it home?” you sighed into the phone. Your voice was almost a whisper. You wanted to cry. How was it every day that this happened? Was he doing it on purpose, trying to send a hint? Was something else going on than work? Tears already brimmed in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry. Something came up way last minute. I can’t make it, baby. I’ll be home late.”

“Okay.” Your voice cracked, and you knew he heard it. That’s all you could say. The silence on the line was so loud. What else did you have to say? You sat with your phone to your ear, the excitement in your posture leaving you. Your shoulders slouched and you could hear his breath still on the other line. Self-consciousness swallowed you. Was this a sign that it wasn’t working? Was it only a matter of time? “Well I guess I’ll see you later tonight.” Your voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

Without any goodbyes or anything, the line disconnected. You weren’t sure who it really was that hung up. You were just in a haze. You finished dinner silently, eating alone standing at the counter. You made sure to still make Joe’s plate, though. You put the perfect amount of everything he liked on his plate, making sure no foods were touching like he liked it.

Maybe it would give him a small surprise when he got home, as he didn’t know you were cooking it. He could eat it when he got home and you were inevitably sleeping. It wouldn’t be as good as eating it with him, but hopefully he’d still like it.

You packed up the food to put on the fridge in a silent, melancholy state. You placed his plate on the oven for him to find when he got home. It was in the shower that you cried, shoulders wracking with heavy sobs of loneliness and fear of losing him. You were so frustrated. You couldn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still upset. You sunk into the soft sheets of the bed after putting on pajamas, slightly cold without his body next to you. Hot tears slid down your face silently as you dozed off.

Joe’s POV:

As silently as I could, I unlocked the door. I dropped my bags on the floor and the clock on the kitchen wall said it was 1 AM. I stretched and rubbed my eyes, exhausted from work and weighed down with guilt. Of course I couldn’t control being busy, but i shouldn’t have promised her that I would’ve been home if I wasn’t completely sure. I did, though, cause hearing her pretty excited voice on the phone after telling her I’d come home brought me to life, but hearing it get quiet after I called it off earlier made my chest hurt. It was dark in the house except for one light on in the kitchen. It was the light on top of the oven. There was something there.

I walked closer to the oven and my heart dropped to my stomach.

Fuck.

There, on top of the oven, was my absolute favorite meal, made by her. You could tell she plated it with care, the food not touching exactly how I liked it. My stomach hurt and so did my chest. Guilt surged through me painfully. There was a note too, and it made me want to quit my job entirely.

I’m sorry you couldn’t make it home. This is for you if you’re hungry. I love you so much. We’ll find the time.

Her pretty cursive carved my heart out with its sweetness. You wished she would just yell at you, tell you off for taking on too much and upsetting her. But she never would, cause she’s an angel, and supports me through whatever I do. How will I ever make this up to her?

Regular POV:

Joe crept up the stairs, trying not to wake you up. You had an ear for him though, and roused when the door creaked open.

“Oh hey,” you mumbled at him. “How was work?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he murmured. He stripped down to his boxers, and crawled into bed. He dragged you under him and engulfed you with his arms. “I’m so so sorry,” he said into your hair.

This sudden intimacy and affection was unexpected, and your eyes immediately watered with tears. “I’m sorry, Joe. I know your so tired and I don’t want you to feel bad.” You voice cracked to a whisper as you started to cry.

“Hey..” he said gently as he flipped you on top of him to look at you. You sat on his lap, tears streaming down your face in the moonlight from the window.

“I just miss you,” you breathed, crumpling onto him as he held you. Your body shook slightly with quiet sobs as he held you.

“I know, angel.” He rubbed your back and whispered on your ear. “I miss you so much. You know I love you more than anything don’t you? Huh?”

He grabbed your face, holding it gently with both hands as he looked at you. Your watery puppy eyes looked up at him, and his heart tugged. He wanted you to know that you really were his priority.

“I have been a very bad boyfriend. I’m so so sorry,” his blue eyes looked earnestly into yours as his blond hair messily fell in his eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m doing this for no reason. I know we can get through this. I’m working like this because I want you to be able to have whatever the fuck you want every time you want it. You deserve it. I know it’s so hard. I’m really trying for us. And I want you to know it’s all because of you. “

It felt like you were melting into him.

“This is for you, and you only. If for one second I thought I’d lose you over this, I’d leave in a heartbeat. You have been a saint about this whole thing. Please just give me a little more time. Don’t give up on me. I love you so so much.”

Your hiccuping sighs were all that was left as you stared up at him. “I would never give up on you. I love you.” You relaxed fully on to him, cherishing what he feels like to touch and smell and experience.

It didn’t matter where you were, or what time it was, or what was happening around you. He was the only thing you could focus on or care about.

He pulled you in and kissed you gently. Running his hands across your middle, seemingly trying to memorize everything. He went under your shirt and cupped your breasts, lowering his kissing to your neck. He removed his hands from your shirt and placed them on your hips, which he firmly gripped as you lazily grinded on him. Small whimpers escaped his mouth as you did this, encouraging you in your lovesick state.

Joe gently unbuttoned your pajama shirt, the silk material sliding down your body slowly when he undid the last one. He caressed you gently, in no rush to savor you.

“So beautiful,” he whispered into the cool air of your bedroom.

You couldn’t respond as you focused in on his gentle touches. You were so honed in on how lightly he caressed you, afraid that if you didn’t savor it, you’d miss them. Small, quiet moans escaped your lips in ecstasy. You sat up to drag his boxers down his soft skin to where they didn’t limit your contact with him at all. You sat up, shorts still on, and ran your hand across his length, honing in on his tip. You massaged him, and his head lolled back onto the pillows.

“Yes,” he whispered.

The slowness of both of your actions was torturous and incredible at the same time. Endless touches and whispers disappearing into a night that was only your own. You slid down your shorts, anxious to finally have him. Joe looked angelic, soft tan skin glowing in the twilight. The blue of his needy eyes was nearly palpable. His roaming hands never stopped for a second. You lowered your self onto him slowly, a gasp being released by the both of you when you finally reached his hilt.

He pulled you into him, wrapping both arms tightly around you on top of him. He thrusted up into you, allowing you to remember every inch. Neither of you spoke, though you doubted either had the ability at the moment to form words. Your breathy moans filled the room, pleasure mixing together as you clung to him and he clung to you. The air was thick with need. For eachother, for touch, for everything.

Everything seemed to morph together despite the slow pace. It had been so long since Joe could show you how much he loved you, and god were you overdue. Finally, his thorough thrusts quickened slightly as he came. Your nails left trails down his back as you reached your high. All you both could do was cling on to each other, repeated “I love you’s” said into the air.

The work was worth it for him, so worth it.

#joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut #joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #cincinnati bengals #fanfic

[i4oba]

nct dream as… !%# types of dates .. 🥣⋆☄︎. *. ⋆

[non-idol ver.! just so you know eheh]

✰ MARK — drive-in theater

it honestly came to mind pretty randomly, as you two got back from your last exam of the semester, driving mindlessly for about two hours — not because you didn’t know what you want to do, but because you two simply just enjoyed doing nothing??? but so many things at the same???

just listening to the mixtape you made for mark, singing so loud everyone could hear since the windows were rolled down too… you felt a sense of freedom? some kind of… relief from the burdens??? it was a pretty hectic exam season you two had to endure and since it was finally over.. you couldn’t keep your excitement low

looking at each other with love and adoration, exhaustion vanishing in the company of the other one — it honestly should be studied? how easy it is for you two to affect the other???

you stumbled upon the drive-in theater by accident, it wasn’t planned or anything, you just wanted to simply spend your night at mark’s place and call it a day, watch a movie on his laptop while cuddling and stuff

but when you spotted the sign you couldn’t help but exclaim, getting all excited over it, even slapping mark’s upper arm… poor boy winced and just said “hey, no need to kill the driver”

you didn’t even need to convince him honestly, he immediately agreed and there you were… not knowing what was actually screening, blindly finding a good spot you two can park and enjoy the movie

it would’ve slapped if it was some kind of slasher horror from the 80s… but it was casablanca

WHICH IS SO CLICHÉ I KNOW BUT it makes So much sense and honestly, it’s such a big game changer to see it like that. it’s like an opportunity you shouldn’t miss

mark got some popcorn and something to drink, to make the whole atmosphere even more “vibey”, as he said, and you two just.. turned off your minds and watched the movie

discussing it and everything, like FELLAS, that’s the right experience! that’s how you watch a movie!!! YOU GOTTA ANALYZE THE SHIT OUT OF IT!!!!!!! ahah

in the end, when almost everyone drove away from the theater, leaving you two here with like.. only 3 other cars, mark gave a kiss on your lips, as a way of celebrating it all. it was for a fleeting moment only, yet it was so sweet and full of emotions

it was a reward, of some sort.

✰ RENJUN — museum date

there was this new exhibition at the local fine arts museum so… it wasn’t even a question that you two would literally RUN (and get a good use of the student discount ahah, it’s a lifesaver!)

casually choosing some elegant clothes which, of course, had to be matching to a certain extent – people HAVE TO see that you guys are together, plus it would look so good on the pictures

you expected lot more of people since it was the first week of the grand opening but it wasn’t that crowded. Which is a good thing honestly, you hate it when it’s sooo full you cannot even move properly

it was an exhibition of some impressionist works by some of the most renowed painters, it was a must to not only look the best, but to prepare yourself for a long day of strolling around

you usually spend tons of time in museums anyways, but this also as part of a date??? the security would have to kick you out asap.. ahah

renjun immediately reached for your hands to hold, while walking around, looking at the beautiful paintings, talking about whatever came to mind – not just about art itself, topics changed so fast you couldn’t even realize it by the time it did

being in art school meant that renjun can sometimes tell you little fun facts and tips&tricks he had learnt in uni

sometimes it amazes how well informed he is and how he knows so many know-hows.. not like you weren’t aware, you absolutely knew he’s smart AND TALENTED, but still ahah

after a good… 3 hours or so? you two decided to end the date with a quick stop at the museum shop :DDD it’s a must honestly, you gotta buy every magnet and postcard you can… especially of such beautiful paintings???!!! you would be stupid if you left without Anything

so you two bought tons of stuff… even some things you can exchange, as if they were gifts for one another :,) ahhh…

you just have to print out that picture of you two, taken in front of that big painting of mesmerizing flowers: renjun kissing you softly, hands on your waist, eyes closed

✰ JENO — stargazing

you had been planning this for literal days before… you know, getting everything together, like those cool ass lamps in a jar bottle with the led stuff, blankets you bought from a nearby art shop?? which sold basically everything??? ahah

drinks and snacks too… you were honestly So Ready to go stargazing! :D

you were supposed to go to that rather tiny park of the town which is mostly empty. that’s why you decided on going there, avoid people and stuff, just the two of you, looking at the constellations >:( honestly it’s so romantic it makes me Cringe (i crave it)

but in the end, you two decided to stay at yours instead, since your parents left for the weekend anyways, which is just a bonus: it’s the two of you in the backyard with the vast sky full of stars

idyllic??? romantic??? adorable and unforgettable??????

All of the above

at first, you two just sat down on the swing bed your father recently bought at a random flea market he religiously visited every weekend :,)

but then, to use the blanket you brought outside (what a tiresome task ahah), you two laid down on the ground instead

the first constellation you spotted was the big dipper, exclaiming when you noticed it on the sky, gently shoving jeno’s shoulder, who was rather nonchalant at first

he then, of course matched your energy, and got super super excited, especially after noticing the ursa major :D he felt like he accomplished his life goal or something ahah (hes so stupid but in a cute way)

what the cherry on top was is his hands, reaching for yours, fingers intertwining, as your heart warmed up – you looked at him, his beautiful face, and noticed that adorable eyesmile of his

life felt good. you felt at home

✰ HAECHAN — restaurant hop

he fucking hates cooking lmfao he’s all like “yo girl i don’t think we should let Me get near that oven… we might burn up the whole house IJBOL” (he would definitely use ijbol irl)

so you were like…

hyuck, you literally don’t even have to come to the kitchen bro, i will cook… which happens most of the times when you decide to stay at home for dates

but this day!!! to spare you from the tiring task of cooking!!!!!!!! he said that you guys should try out restaurant hopping

you were confused as hell honestly, like wdym you want that, aren’t you a picky mf lmfao

but he said that he’s feeling adventurous and is pretty much lazy to go hiking or anything that a sane person would go for

and he felt hungry so it was like the best choice in his eyes – you were sick of spending most of your nights at his (shared…) apartment so you agreed after like… 5 secs of persuading

you wanted to plan out where you should go and maybe book a table at some restaurant but he was all like “honey, we should be spontaneous, go with the flow…”, so you did???? Ahah

the first restaurant was not even a restaurant, it was just the first street food stall you two stumbled upon, getting something for the both of you

you didn’t want to feel full so early so you chose something light (unlike hyuck who was sure he was “alright” but after like the second stop, he was dying because his stomach was hurting “So Badly”)

you ended the restaurant hop with a donut at one of the bakeries you usually go to – you know, to finish it off with something familiar??? now lemme just say, it was chaotic, because haechan could BARELY finish it and made it your problem, whining like a little girl after every bite

like you told him not to get the biggest, sweetest and greasiest one but he was sooo sure in himself, he said he’s got an extra stomach for desserts

well… was he wrong…….

you spent 1.5 hours there!!!!!! he took so much time LMFAOXJAJX they were closing already and he still hadn’t finished

so you tried to rush him and stuff but he turned his princess mode on ahah

but at least, on the way back to his place, he bought you tulips :) it was such a sweet gesture <3

not as sweet as his donut was…… (he almost threw up the next day cause he was feeling nauseous from the food)

✰ JAEMIN — picnic date

jaemin was so excited :( he literally couldn’t stop talking about it like.. that’s right dude!!!!!! we’re going on a date!!!!!! A PICNIC DATE!!!!!

he would literally live in the kitchen before the occasion so that he can cook&bake tons of things for you to eat :) he’s so… he’s so malewife

all you’re left to deal with is bringing the basket and checkered blanket, every other things are settled! they are in his hands, under his control :D

you two went to the park which is right next to the lake – you wanted to see swans while talking about anything and everything that came to mind (he literally compared your beauty to that of a swan… which made you almost tear up like BOY YOU DID NOT… argghhh)

it was a must to start it off with the most basic and cliché thing of everything: the chocolate covered strawberries, feeding each other all lovey-dovey, tooth rottingly sweet and stuff

everyone was possibly like “okay lemme just kms” when they spotted you two, all up on each other, legs all tangled together, stealing kisses from the other, while giggling so loudly

it was SOO so idyllic, almost like you two escaped from a romance movie, or a painting. it felt… perfect, in a way?

birds singing, the sun shining gently on your skin, while you could hear the laughter of the children running around, clouds in animal shapes

then the sun slowly setting, pinkish hues taking up the sky above, everything becoming quiet as time passes by

he hugs you tightly. tighter than ever, perhaps

✰ CHENLE — karaoke

if two weeks pass by without you and chenle going to a karaoke… Most probably it’s because you broke up or something

like girl ain’t no way you WON’T go to karaoke dates… nuh huh, impossible to even think of that ??? CHENLE, out of all people

that’s the least believable thing like i promise you!

like saturday night are for the gir- KARAOKE!!!!! :P that’s how it always goes, getting ready, putting on some casual clothes, maybe eating something quick before that, and then spending the entire time singing your lungs out

you don’t even have energy by the end of it, like it… seems impossible to even crawl back home :,)

but honestly it’s all worth it, comparing your score and stuff, seeing which one of you sings better

sometimes you just open instagram and do lives too, so that your followers can pick who they liked more

(it’s always chenle’s acc though like SO MANY people follows him, he’s like a celebrity… ahah!)

haechan always comes to watch and roasts the both of you, especially when it can be seen that chenle kisses you here and there

he types “EWWWW GET A ROOM FREAKS” and thinks he’s hilarious lmfao

you always start the date with a quick and energetic song, one that boost your energy up easily and then… honestly it depends on your mood

sometimes you gotta be in your moods and sing romantic ballads to each other, as if it’s a serenade

but then again, moods swing so quickly and you can end up in a rap battle too

you would totally eat him up tbh… and he knows it so well

he finishes the date off with the most cheesiest, lovely romantic song ever… like a confession said yet again, for the hundreth time

✰ JISUNG — amusement park

it wasn’t his idea honestly

it was all you coming up with it, because there was that one roller coaster you’d always been scared to go on

and since you haven’t visited ever since you had jisung… you thought MAYBEEEE (just maybe) it would be better with him

you can at least hold onto him and stuff

he wanted to eat before the ride though… you did not let him, of course, since you didn’t want him to throw up on you AHAH

but like, why did he came there RAVENOUS? duh … you’re gonna say goodbye to your guts on the ride girl what did you expect

but you know, the ride wasn’t even the part you enjoyed the most – it was good, of course, just not that… outstanding? i guess? it was alright… especially because you could hold jisung’s hand so tightly :,) it was honestly so adorable

they should’ve taken pictures of you like you’re sure you would’ve put it on the fridge or something

but after that, you went to the gift shop, to get those silly headbands!!!!! you got one that resembled a cat, and jisung got one with a hamster >:( it was adorbs

you two looked like those IT couples that you can always see in instagram, you know, holding hands, taking silly candid pictures and then eating sooo much food

FINALLY!!! thought jisung probably ahah you got so many sweets it was like you could feel your tooth decaying lmfao

at the end of the day, you two decided to try out the freshly opened photo booth which had been going viral for weeks

it was… an experience to say the least :,) but the pictures came out prettier than ever!!!! except for the one where jisung sneezed and you got all scared because he was Loud loud ahah

but the compensation was a fleeting kiss on your cheek! which was also captured on one of the pictures :)

#nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct #nct dream headcanons #nct imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream stories #nct dream writings #nct dream x reader #mark lee headcanons #mark lee imagines #mark lee x reader #renjun x reader #renjun imagines #renjun blurbs #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #haechan imagines #jaemin headcanons #jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #chenle x reader #chenle imagines #jisung x reader #jisung imagines

[fallinforerling]

the pinterest board - eh

A/N: this is so silly and stupid, i love it so much. i dunno why i thought about this, but my pinterest boards for erling are very specific, and yes, i do have a board for his short hair era. i still miss it. love you guys xx

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist 

ೃ⁀➷ erling's taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It was unusually quiet around the house, and Erling wondered what could be causing that. There weren't many moments throughout the day where you weren’t doing some type of activity that caused noise. From playing music, to cooking or practicing your pronunciation in Norwegian, you were always making your presence known.

So when he finally arrived from practice, it felt odd to find a very silent living room, with no sight of you anywhere. He peeked through the kitchen door, hoping to find you with your headphones on, but it was as empty as the previous room. Then he thought that maybe you went out, but you rarely did that without giving him a heads up.  

So where were you?

“Baby?!” He shouted, still not getting any response. 

He was starting to get worried. While making his way to the bedroom, he got his phone to call you. Only when he reached the door, he realize he did heard your voice. And you were giggling. But it wasn’t your usual laugh; it sounded like the giggly laugh you made when he kissed you behind the ear or when you saw him shirtless. 

You were giggling because you liked whatever the hell was happening. 

Of course he wasn’t thinking about cheating or anything related to that matter, but something clicked in his brain. He made sure to open the door as quietly as possible, sticking his head just enough to see you resting flat on your stomach, seeming to scroll through your phone. 

Your smile was so big and mesmerizing that he took a moment to openly stare at you, finding your happiness contagious. It lasted a few seconds, because you giggled again and then he remembered wanting to find out what you were looking at.

“What are you doing?” He murmured, smiling when you visibly jumped on the spot. You turned and smiled at him, but your eyes were full of panic as one of your hands hid the phone deep into the pillows. 

“Babe! Hey, I didn’t see you there. How was practice?” You fixed your hair behind your ears, something that you only did when you were nervous. You were hiding something. And now he was determined to find out what. “Wanna have some dinner? I prepared that liver you like so much.” 

“Sure, sure. Thank you, honey.” He discarded his training bag on the floor, still standing at the door. “What were you watching?” The playful smile never left his face as he leaned on the doorframe, not letting you get out. 

“Me? Nothing—I was just, you know, checking out Pinterest. Typical stuff! Anyways, back to the liver? Pretty well seasoned, let’s go make it! My big guy needs to eat!” You let a nervous laugh out, hitting his arm with no actual force. You were so nervous, it was killing him. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do, okay?” 

You seemed confused for a few seconds, and that was enough for him to grab you by the waist and practically kick you out of the room. He made sure to quickly lock the door, making a little run to the bed to get your phone before it was too late. He could hear your muffled screams as you banged on the door, begging him to stop being so noisy. 

The problem was that the noisy monster he is today was created by you. 

Once he got a grab on your phone, he thanked every god available that it was still unlocked. As he stared at the screen, his mouth opened in a silent laugh as his thumb kept scrolling through the content. There were hundreds of photos of him at literally every stage of his career. Then, he noticed that you didn’t lie about the Pinterest thing. There were boards dedicated solely to him. Once he had finally seen it all, he opened the door, still laughing a bit as you stared at him with hatred. 

“Seriously, baby?” He still held your phone at his face level, so you weren’t able to reach it. “Short-haired Erling? There’s a specific board for that point of my life?” 

“Give me my phone back!” You said instead, taking it roughly from his hands. “And yes, I have a Pinterest board for photos of you with short hair, so what? You looked stunning.” You turned around, and started to walk towards the kitchen. 

“Hey! What’s wrong with my long hair?” He touched the man-bun he had going on hesitantly, following you. “You don’t like it?” 

Then it was your turn to laugh as you turned again to face him. 

“Of course I do.” 

“Oh, but you don’t love it.” He didn’t even know why it offended him so much. “You don’t like it enough to make a Pinterest board. huh? Are you trying to say that I don’t look stunning in it?” 

“Oh, c’mon! I didn’t say that!” 

“But you’re not denying it!” He was getting worked up for no apparent reason, but it was mortifying to think that his own girlfriend didn’t like his hairstyle. “That’s it— I’m chopping it off!” 

“Erling! It’s not that big of a deal! You do look stunning with long hair!” 

But he didn’t let go for at least another two hours. Dinner got forgotten as he went off about how you loved his past-self more than his current one. You had to make sure to create a new Pinterest board with recent photos of him in front of him, and just after that, he seemed convinced enough that you liked the long hair as much as his short hair phase. 

Talk about unnecessary drama queens.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST

@questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234 | @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349 | @may-machin

#erling haaland #footballer blurb #footballer fanfiction #footballer fic #footballer fics #footballfics #football drabbles #erling haaland x you #erling haaland fluff #erling x reader #erling håland #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland x y/n #erling x you #erling x y/n #erling haaland imagine #erling haaland drabble #haaland x you #haaland x reader #haaland x y/n #haaland fanfic #haaland fluff #erling fluff #erling drabble #erling haaland blurb #footballer x reader #footballer fic #football fanfic #football fic

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Drabble 2/1/24

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @hitlikehammers who chose today's prompt. This one is for YOU!

Prompt: “I Couldn’t Lose You”

Set in post season 4, angst w/ a happy ending

featuring S3/4 Secret Situationship Steddie - post breakup

Rating: G | WC: 1407 | Ao3 link

“I Couldn’t Lose You”

Eddie opened the door. 

It was a reflex, really. 

Someone rings the bell, you answer the door. It’s an ingrained behavior, unconsciously done. 

He didn’t think about the fact that he wasn’t expecting anyone, or that it was past midnight and a decidedly odd time for unexpected visitors. In his defense, he didn’t know the simple act of opening his door would mean stepping into the past, and facing down the worst heartbreak of his life head-on after running away to another State to avoid it. 

“Oh.” Eddie gasped, the sound seeming to echo as the man on the other side of the doorway sucked in his own sharp breath. 

Pain lanced through his chest as he set eyes on Steve Harrington. The man he loved, who he hadn’t seen in over two years.

“It’s really you.” Steve said, blinking hard as if he couldn't believe his eyes. “I didn’t… I knocked on so many doors. I didn’t know your apartment number and–”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie interrupted, aiming for a bored disinterested tone, but the words came out a little too breathless to pull it off. 

He couldn’t help it. The only thing keeping him upright just then was the death grip he had on the doorframe.

What was Steve doing here? Eddie figured he and Nancy would have been halfway to the altar by now, if not already there.

“I…” Steve trailed off, dropping his gaze to the floor. He gave a wry huff of laughter and shook his head before looking back up with guarded eyes. “Just answer me one question, and I'll never bother you again.” 

“Fine.”

Eddie’s heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure the other man could hear it. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to stand here and look at Steve’s unfairly pretty face and remember. It’d taken him so long to forget, to be okay after… after. 

“Why did you run?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t run. I moved.”

Steve scoffed. “Eddie, you snuck out in the middle of the night. We were both barely healed and I- I woke up and you were just gone. I went to your place and Wayne told me you’d packed your shit up in the van and left. No explanation, no note, nothing!”

Eddie shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“You could have told me!” 

“I couldn’t.”

“Bullshit.” Steve spat, his eyes beginning to shimmer with anger. “It was like you died, Eddie! One day you were there and the next you were gone without a trace. No number to call, no forwarding address.”

“Wayne knew where I was.”

Steve shook his head, expression hardening. “It was like you fucking died! And I don’t… I just need to know why.”

Eddie deflated. Any chance of keeping his aloof demeanor intact was gone under the weight of Steve’s gaze. What was the point anyway? He might as well tell him the truth. Maybe then he would leave Eddie alone to begin the process of picking up the pieces of his shattered heart all over again. 

“I couldn’t lose you.” Eddie began with a sigh. “I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, so I left.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. But after all that shit in the Winnebago with you and Nancy, I couldn’t just sit around and watch her take you from me. I thought If I left first, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I know that’s fucked up of me to say, as if you were ever mine to begin with, but–”

“I was.”

Eddie gulped, shaking his head reflexively. “No.” He breathed. 

Steve's face softened and he reached out, cupping Eddie's cheek with an almost painful tenderness. “I was yours, Eddie, and I thought you were mine– or at least I wanted you to be. Looks like maybe I should have been more clear about that.”

“Then why did you say those things to her, about an R.V. and wanting six kids, and–”

“Jesus, is that what this has all been about?” Steve asked, dropping his hand from Eddie’s face and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“There was also the eye-fucking.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie threw his hands up. “What was I supposed to think?! Here I was, falling head over heels in love with you, and the whole time you were dreaming about fucking off to Yellowstone or whatever with some picture perfect wife and your brood of equally picture-perfect children, like some non-musical version of the fucking Partridge family. Admit it, I was a detour. A glorified speed bump on your way to the life you actually wanted.”

“Baby-”

Eddie flinched hard at the use of the nickname, stumbling backwards out of Steve's reach. Horrifyingly he could feel tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Even more horrifying was the fact that Steve was following him into the apartment and shutting the door. Hadn’t he done enough, now he had to literally invade Eddie’s home?

“Baby, please-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. I-”

“Why are you still here? You got your answer. I don’t know what you needed it for but you can go back to your life with little miss perfect now.”

Eddie staggered to the couch, knowing if he didn’t sit soon his shaking legs would betray him. He pulled a throw pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly as he rested his chin on it. 

Steve crouched down in front of him, but Eddie studiously ignored his gaze. 

“What are you talking about? Nancy?”

“Or whoever the current little miss perfect is. I know you’re not picky.”

“Ouch.” Steve said, though not like the barb had actually stung. He reached out towards Eddie’s knee, moving slowly to give him every opportunity to protest.

He didn’t.

”There is no little miss perfect.” Steve said softly.

Eddie whined involuntarily. Squeezing the pillow tighter and tighter to his chest. 

“It was true, what I said to Nancy in the RV. I did always have that dream. The part I didn’t get to say, because we were a little busy at the time, the part I would have told you if you’d asked me about it, is how the dream had changed. When you and I became, whatever we were back then, the dream became less about having 6 little Harringtons, and more about the person in the passenger seat. The one I really wanted to share my life with, the family we might build together by adopting our own kids some day, or the family we found with the little brats I can't seem to get rid of even though they’re about to graduate high school.”

Steve knelt down in front of Eddie more solidly, gently prying the pillow out of his iron grip. Eddie let it go. His eyes were locked on Steve’s as he let everything that was just said to him sink in.

“Say something, please.” Steve begged, taking both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Is it still me?” Eddie croaked out, his throat tight as he fought not to cry. “In the passenger seat– is it still me, or did I fuck everything up?”

Steve smiled broadly, a few tears of his own escaping his eyes to roll down his cheeks. “I’ve been looking for you, all this time. I love you. Of course it’s still you, baby.”

Eddie surged forward, crashing his mouth into Steve’s. Their lips slotted together perfectly, just as they always had, as if no time had passed at all. Eddie threw his arms over Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close, as Steve wound his hands up into Eddie's hair, gently tugging. 

They parted only when they had to, or else risk passing out from lack of oxygen. Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s while they both caught their breath.

“I love you too… still… always. In case that wasn’t clear.” 

Steve snorted the most unattractive laugh imaginable, but it was music to Eddie’s ears. He hadn’t heard that sound in far too long, and it warmed his heart almost as much as the kiss to know he’d caused it.

“I don’t know, Eds. I think you might have to show me again.”

Eddie was happy to comply.

He grinned, leaning in for another deep lingering kiss. 

Thank you @penny00dreadful beloved friend and beta!

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #stwg

[g1rld1ary]

hi baby !! 🧡

im sick rn and ive looked alllllll over and i couldnt find anything could you write a sickfic for luke from jatp where the female!reader gets sick ? reader is his girl 😽

im doing the same prompt on my blog because im so obsessed with the idea of sickfics and im such a luke girl

so you probably wont have much trouble figuring out who sent you this later if you look it up LMFAO 😍😍

pshsshssh thank you !! 🌼🌼

sick days ; luke patterson x fem!reader

➻ synopsis: you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

➻ word count: 1905

➻ content: established relationship, implied aged up to early 20ish, pet names (love, baby, my girl), tooth rotting fluff

➻ obsessed with this request!!! i've never written a sickfic before so hope this is ok!! hope ur feeling better lovey xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your body ached. That was the only thing you could feel. Actually, that was incorrect; you also had a headache and a snotty nose and you were pretty sure your temperature could boil water. In essence, you felt awful. You’d toughed it out for as long as you could, making yourself a steaming hot tea and cozying into the sofa for the night. It wasn’t making you feel any better. So, in a last ditch effort of saving your night, you dialled your boyfriend.

You smiled as his croaky, half-asleep voice came through your phone, murmuring your name.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You asked, brows furrowed as you checked the time, gasping when it read 1:45am. You thought it was still closer to eleven.

“Don’t worry about it, couldn’t sleep anyway,” Luke lied and you frowned, though he couldn’t see it through the screen.

“No, it’s dumb. I’m sorry I woke you up. Night, Luke.” You moved to hang up when Luke interrupted you.

“Baby, wait! Clearly something’s bothering you. What’s up?” You smiled despite your discomfort, your boyfriend always boosting your mood without even trying.

“Nothing,” You pouted in your puddle of blankets, “Just feel sick.” You could feel Luke’s pity without him saying anything and weren’t sure whether to be indignant or grateful.

“Can you stay awake for twenty more minutes, love?”

“I guess so, why?” You asked, turning the TV back on as something to keep you from sleeping.

“I love you,” Was all he said, hanging up on you abruptly. You smiled softly to yourself, willing your eyes to stay open as you tried to focus on the sitcom in front of you.

You were just dozing off when you heard your apartment door unlocking and the brief shuffling of feet in the entryway. Your grin brightened, the familiar butterflies returning to your chest, even after months of being with Luke. The man in questioned approached you quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as you looked up at him.

“Luke, it’s 2 am, what are you doing here?” You asked despite the obvious answer, opening your shield of blankets for him to crawl onto the sofa with you. He made you wait, tipping out his reusable shopping bag onto the coffee table in front of you. There lay a pint of ice cream, tea bags, painkillers, and your favourite chocolate. Suddenly you weren’t sure if the heat on your face was fever or blush. Silently you held your arms out, and Luke dove into them with all the enthusiasm of a child, peppering your faces with all the kisses he could manage.

“Couldn’t let my girl be sick on her own,” He mumbled, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, eliciting a bout of giggles from you.

“My very own Prince Charming,” You grinned, pecking his temple. After a gratuitous moment of cuddling Luke peeled himself off you, taking on the role of concerned caretaker. He was quick to dart into the kitchen, turning the kettle on for your tea and grabbing a spoon for the ice cream he’d bought. Sitting himself in the vacant spot next to you he fixed his focus onto the TV.

“What are we watching?” He asked, pulling the lid off the ice cream tub for you.

“How I Met Your Mother, I’ve just reached season seven.” Luke gasped dramatically, holding his hands over his chest in faux outrage.

“You continued without me? How could you?” You laughed at his accusatory tone, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Lukey. You have to forgive me though, I’m sick,” You punctuated the statement with a pathetic cough, smiling as Luke easily settled down.

You watched in silence for a bit, both giggling at the stupid jokes. After a while you felt Luke looking at you seriously, but chose not to think much of it, continuing to tune in to the show. When he pulled out a thermometer, you raised an eyebrow. Luke wasn’t usually one to be so prepared, but you let him rest it on your tongue nonetheless. When it read a concerningly high number Luke frowned, silently popping the painkillers out of their packaging, feeding you with the insistence of a fed up mother hen.

“Why aren’t you a nurse?” You joked, swallowing the medication with a mouthful of melted ice cream, “Rockstar be damned.”

“Only for you, love.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you fretting over Reggie,” You laughed, and Luke couldn’t help but join you.

“That’s fair. You’re my favourite, though.”

“How unexpected.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to his jaw, revelling in the dumb grin that crept onto his face.

You both settled into silence, you leant into Luke’s side, his hands rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, never quite able to stay in it for one reason or another. The blanket was too hot, you were cold without it, your head hurt. Nothing was quite right and all you wanted to do was sleep for as long as humanly possible.

“Luke?” You whispered, in case he was already asleep.

“Yes, love?” He replied, shifting his position to look down at you. You faltered for a moment, overwhelmed with the pure adoration in his eyes.

“Will you play for me?” Luke was up in a second, arranging you on the sofa. You giggled as he manhandled you, lying you down and wrapping you tightly in your blanket so you couldn’t escape. You teased him about being his captive audience as he tuned his guitar quickly, never being so grateful for his perfect pitch.

Without anymore holdups Luke began to play, plucking softly at the strings to create a melody that filled the air of your little apartment. His playing was like a siren call, pressing weights on your eyelids until you could barely stand to keep them open. You watched him while you could, admiring the way the faint light from the kitchen lamp made him look like an Adonis, his hair illuminated in gold and his features accentuated by the shadows. You couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Luke Patterson, heartthrob of Julie and the Phantoms was your dorky, adoring boyfriend who would make supermarket trips in the middle of the night for you. Who had your favourite ice cream memorised and your key attached to his, so he could come see you whenever he missed you (which was pretty much always).

Despite the various aches and pains that had overtaken your body, the only thing you could feel as you drifted off to sleep was the burning ball of light in your chest, a chemical mixture of joy and love and gratitude, overtaking your senses one by one until you were asleep, dreams filled of beautiful images of your boyfriend.

When you woke up the next morning, you figured out it wasn’t morning at all. Luke had evidently switched off your phone’s alarm after you’d fallen asleep, and it was well into early afternoon when you’d arisen. To his credit though, the sleep had done you some good, and you felt much less like walking death after an intense sleep.

You untangled yourself from the knit blanket, your feet wobbly on the hard wood floors. You had serious post-nap daze, and wandered through your flat looking for your boyfriend. The poorly made sheets on your actual bed told you where Luke slept last night — or this morning, more accurately — you smiled at the way he’d arranged your stuffed animals.

Stuck to the fridge under your New York City magnet was a note from Luke, explaining he had to go to rehearsal but he’d be back later to check on you. You pulled the paper off, travelling back to your room to put the note in your ‘Luke’ box, adding to the collection of notes and drawings he’d given you inconsequentially that you’d held onto.

As the afternoon ticked by you’d gotten onto your computer, figuring that although you were still ill you should try and get something productive done. You were armed with your box of tissues as you got started on an assignment you had due at the end of the week, and slipped your headphones on to get into the headspace.

You screamed as a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, quickly dissolving into giggles as you realised it was only Luke, back from rehearsal.

“Your voice still sounds scratchy, baby, how are you feeling?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Better, promise. Tomorrow I’ll probably go to class if I get another good night’s sleep.”

“That’s my girl.” He grinned, and you felt your insides melting all over again. You closed the laptop, knowing you weren’t going to get much more done now that Luke was with you.

You spent the evening together, ordering in pizza from the place around the corner and getting slightly wine drunk as Luke told you all about his earlier rehearsal and the antics of his band. He sang you part of the new song he and Julie had written and you applauded dramatically, only stopping when you broke into a coughing fit.

“Wanna watch something?” He asked when you grew tired again, cuddling up to him like a cat.

“Barbie?” You asked hopefully, looking up at him with wide eyes. Luke sighed dramatically, but you knew he was just pretending not to like the animated movies you’d grown up on.

“Only if it’s Island Princess,” He offered and you nodded enthusiastically.

The two of you settled in for the movie night, Luke getting much more into the movie as it went on, as he always did. By the end you were singing duets — your voice considerably less pleasing than his, especially due to your illness — Luke taking on the role of the prince letting you be Ro.

As the credits rolled you felt your eyes closing again, and you felt eerily like you did as a younger girl, falling asleep on the couch after a Barbie movie. This was better though, because now you had Luke next to you. He’d taken his role as big spoon extremely seriously, and had all but become one with the couch, pressing into the back as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You shifted your position to face him, watching his face relax into contentedness as he tried to doze off to sleep. Feeling you watch him he cracked one eye open, mouth producing a dumb grin that made butterflies erupt in your chest.

“What?” He asked, but you got the distinct impression he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Nothing,” You lied, but gave in easily, “You’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty too. Now go to sleep.” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Kay, goodnight Lukey. I love you.”

“Love you too, my girl. So much.” His answer was muffled by him pressing his face into your hair to pull you closer, but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even as sleep enveloped you.

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ #love #fluff #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #jatp #jatp netflix #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson fic #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson x you #save julie and the phantoms #save jatp #sickfic #caretaking #charlie gillespie

[milaisreading]

HIIII i love ur posts!!

Can i request a tired or mentally drained and at one point she breaks down on front of the bllk boys and all of them start panicking or trying to comfort her? 😭😅

I've been tired cuz exam season ( >:p ) "and i wanna cry but i physically can't ( idk why? ) and i want some comfort sooooo.... yeah!

if u dont wanna its cool :)

byeeee❤️❤️

Author: I FEEL U! I have been feeling soo drained and useless ever since my exams finished. Literally can't even relax during this small break I got:// Anyways, I hope u like this! Thanks for the request🩷

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

On any normal day (Y/n) didn't mind the chaos the boys caused her, after all they were under a lot of pressure, so she let them unwind while cleaning up after them. But today was not one of those days. Ever since the preparations for the next Blue Lock phase started she felt like they were more and more chaotic, while she was losing herself more and more in all of her work. The whole week was just a whole mess for her, from running errands for Anri and Ego, to breaking up fights between the teammates, she just felt like giving up. Right now, she was enjoying some quiet time in the lunch hall, just drinking some tea while fighting back sleep.

"This morning was so tiring...." She winced while grabbing her stomach. This morning, Rin accidentally kicked the football past the goal, which ended up hitting (Y/n) in the stomach. This caused a loud argument between the captain, Isagi and Barou. (Y/n) tried to stop them, but the fussing coming from Aryu and Hiori stopped her. She was annoyed that they didn't let her handle the issue, instead Kurona and Yukimiya ended up dragging her toward the infirmary.

Next thing that happened was an hour after the first incident. Karasu and Otoya were practicing with Bachira and Aryu, (Y/n) was as usually sitting and taking down the stats of the 4. Nothing unusual. Until Bachira decided to goof around with the football and yell at (Y/n) to watch him do some tricks. She admitted, they were impressive, and she commented on how great they are. Her comments along with the impressed look on her face caused the other three to start doing the same. The problem was that there were 4 of them and (Y/n) would have to look every 2 seconds at a different player, which did make her dizzy. Ego had noticed the commotion and yelled at all 5 of them to get back to training.

The 3rd incident happened barely an hour ago at lunch time. (Y/n) was sitting with Gagamaru, Isagi and Chigiri during the time, and while talking with the 3, she didn't notice an argument between Kunigami and Nagi unfolding. Everyone knew that (Y/n) barely ever ate her dessert, it had too much protein, so she would always left it to one of the players to eat. The dessert was pretty much the highlight of their day and the team agreed on whoever got the most points for the day, will get the sweet treat. This arrangement worked for 2 months, but today was the first time that two players were tied in points.

Kunigami and Nagi were both known to be level headed and somewhat apathetic towards everything, except when it comes to their manager and her attention,  that's when both are pretty much irrational.

"I think you seem to misunderstood me, Nagi. I am getting it today." Kunigami said, sending a tight smile towards the albino.

"And you seemed to have misunderstood me, Kunigami. But that pudding is mine."

"Calm down, you two." Niko rolled his eyes, still mad that he lost this time.

(Y/n), blissfully unaware of that whole agreement, noticed Gagamaru staring at her dessert. Knowing she won't eat it anyways, she decided to give it to him.

"Here. I won't eat. Hope you like strawberry flavor." She said, handing the surprised Gagamaru her food.

Chigiri and Isagi gasped silently. They shortly sent the flustered goalie jealous glares before looking at Kunigami and Nagi, who were staring degers at Gagamaru.

"A-are you sure?" The boy asked as (Y/n) nodded her head, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Of course-"

"Gagamaru, you traitor!" The two flinched and looked in surprise at Nagi.

"Ha?" (Y/n) panicked a little as she saw Kunigami and Nagi glaring at the duo.

"Keep it down, you two." Reo rolled his eyes, earning a nod from Tokimitsu.

"M-maybe we should let Gagamaru have-"

"Shut it, Tokimitsu!" Kunigami and Nagi yelled and then started arguing with Gagamaru. It eventually spread across the whole lunch room, and (Y/n) started twitching a little. Nobody was listening to her as she tried to calm it down. Was it the exhaustion or pure desperation to shut everyone up, but (Y/n) eventually started crying silently. Lost in her own thoughts while crying, she wasn't paying attention to what the rest were saying.

"I am the fastest. The dessert is mine!" Chigiri earned a show from Aryu at that.

"You forget I was in the top3 and I am the one with the better hair."

"Oh, shut up you peasants! You all are beneath me and (Y/n), therefore the pudding is mine."

"Says who? You, Barou? You do not have the charm to be anywhere near (Y/n)."

"Otoya, you cheated on your girlfriends. What makes you think you are worthy?" Yukimiya sighed.

"And what about you, Yukimiya? You are so plain, there is no way she will fall for you. Now me on the other hand-"

"Oh, shut up Karasu. Your charms are below Antarctica's temperatures." Niko groaned.

"I think the cutest one of us should get the pudding. So me-"

"Bachira, that would be me. I am also the ace, so that's just a bonus." Isagi smiled, earning a glare from Rin

"Pipe it down, you two can barely pick up a 2nd language." The captain added in.

"English is hard." The two protested.

"I think the richest one should have a say in the dessert." Reo smirked, earning louder protests.

Tokimitsu shivered a little in fright and looked over at (Y/n), freezing for a moment as he saw her crying.

"What's up, Tokimitsu?" Hiori wondered, one of the few who decided not to argue. Kurona looked over to where Tokimitsu was looking, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw her crying too. He nudged Hiori.

"Look." Kurona said and the cyan-haired boy looked at (Y/n). He wasted no time and ran to her side, followed by Tokimitsu and Kurona.

"He-hey, don't take it to heart. They are stupid like that." Tokimitsu said as he patted the sobbing girl's back. Kurona and Hiori moved closer, both trying to calm her down, all three felt their hearts breaking as they watched her cry. The room grew slowly quiet too, as the rest looked at (Y/n) in concern and guilt.

"(Y/n)...." Chigiri gulped.

"It's just hard to keep up with you all. You keep arguing and destroying things at times... and it's just hard to keep up... I can usually take it, but I guess today isn't my day." A wave of guilt hit the team as they quickly scrambled for the right words. The last thing they wanted was for their (Y/n) to cry, or worse, contemplate on leaving them.

"Tokimitsu, go and take (Y/n) somewhere quiet to calm down. The rest of you stay here." Rin said, quickly getting unto his captain mode. The rest said nothing, deciding not to make things worse, and they watched with guilt and sadness as (Y/n) got dragged out by Tokimitsu.

"Alright, listen up." Rin spoke up, causing the rest to look at him.

"We need to pull our shit together, unless we want (Y/n) to leave and for some other manager to replace her. The team pretty much shuddered at the idea, there was no way someone will replace her!

"So, what's your idea, captain?" Barou wondered.

"I will tell you, but first... Reo, I need you to do some calls." The billionaire heir raised his eyebrow and slowly nodded his head.

And soo, that was what had happened. (Y/n) ended up crying for about 30 minutes as Tokimitsu stayed around, just in case. The boy was collected and calm, no sign of his previous fidgety demeanor. After she calmed down, she apologized to Tokimitsu for inconveniencing him, but the boy didn't mind.

"If you feel down again, don't be afraid to tell us. We will listen." The boy said with a smile, which calmed her down a lot.

After lunch, she went back to her normal duties, helping the other staff members and the team out. To her surprise, they didn't cause any ruckus, they were calm and friendly. Even Rin, Isagi and Barou stayed away from arguing with each other. Unbeknownst to her, whenever a staff member tried to scold her, Karasu, Aryu and Nagi would send them warning glares. They alone caused them to back off quickly. All in all, the day went pretty well, and (Y/n) felt a lot lighter now. She slowly walked into her bedroom, and stopped at the entrance as she noticed a box on her bed. Slowly walking towards it, she looked at the note on the box and slowly started reading it. (Y/n)'s eyes widened a little as she read it through, realizing that the team sent her this, and her heart melted at the apology they wrote out.

'They are chaotic... but I love them like that.' She smiled and slowly opened the box, only to find various treats that she could only buy outside of Blue Lock's facility, she even got a small (f/c) bear.

'They probably made Reo get this...' She chuckled and plopped on the bed, hugging the bear close to herself.

'I will make it up to them... maybe Teieri-san can help me get them some small gift next week.' She thought, slowly falling asleep.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #manager reader #blue lock requests #isagi yoichi #chigiri hyoma #bachira meguru #kunigami rensuke #nagi seishiro #reo mikage #niko ikki #barou shouei #aryu jyubei #tokimitsu aoshi #itoshi rin #kurona ranze #hiori yo #karasu tabito #yukimiya kenyu #otoya eita #gin gagamaru

[outro-jo]

when you watch the next episode without svt

pairing: svt x reader

type: reaction

warnings: none really, grumpy boys, emotionally manipulative jeonghan 🙄

request: not really but my friend gave me the idea

a/n: please read info before requesting 🩵

masterlist | info

———————————

scoups- he had been looking forward to this for days. it got him through long practices and times when the boys were bugging him. when he needed to go to a happy place he would just think about being cuddled up to you and finally finding out what happens to your beloved protagonist. the second the spoiler left your lips his heart sank and his lips poked out in a pout. “wait, you watched it without me?” he of course sat through it with you but he pouted the entire time.

jeonghan- he knew you did but that wasn’t gonna stop him from making you feel terrible about it. “babe! are you serious! i was looking forward to finding out what happens with you! i’ve been waiting all week.” it was absolutely a lie. as soon as he saw the little red bar across the episode thumbnail, he knew exactly what you had done and immediately watched the episode.  he wasn’t about to let you know that now, not when you were making his favorite dinner and then sat down to cuddle him while watching the episode. you kept giving little kisses of apology… until he spoiled the episode himself. “oops?”

joshua- he honestly doesn’t care. our unbothered king only really waits because you care about it so much but he knows with his schedule and how impatient you are that he may not always get to watch episodes with you. he’ll tease you a little about your impatience but at the end of the day he just loves spending time with you so he watches it with you anyways.

jun- he’s not mad… just disappointed. one of his favorite things about watching shows with you is seeing your reactions because you’re so expressive. sometimes you immerse yourself so much in shows that you’ll take things personally and he finds it adorable. now he doesn’t get to see your reaction to probably one of the best moments in the season. it’s nothing that some cuddles can’t fix though. 

hoshi- our tiger is OFFENDED. you spent the entire season reminding him not to watch episodes without you, you’d send texts and scold him, only to not even listen yourself. it doesn’t matter how many times you apologize, he still sits on the sofa with his arms crossed and his lips in a pout. he’ll talk about it even days later and it took a LOT of convincing to start a new show together again.

wonwoo- he honestly thinks it’s funny. it’s amusing to him that you’re so impatient that you can’t wait and he’s still just excited to see what happens even if you already know. he loves the way you can hardly contain yourself with the big plot twist and loves the way you glance over at him to see how he’s going to react. 

woozi- annoyed. he knew it would be a while before you could see the big finale of your show with his work schedule but you promised him. he also knows how upset you’d be if he did the same to you and honestly he just wants the same kind of respect. 

dk- ooohhh he’s pretty irritated but our sunshine isn’t one to be too confrontational so he keeps it to himself. he gives you a warm smile and tells you it’s ok but man, is he side eyeing you HARD while he’s watching. 

mingyu- mingyu is PISSED. he can’t believe you’d watch it without him after you two had invested so much in the season. you knew how much this show meant to him and how much he loves watching it with you and you just couldn’t help yourself. but with some aegyo apologies and lots of kisses, he’ll learn to forgive you. 

the8- to be honest, you and minghao have VERY different tastes in shows so when you finally found one you could agree on it was nothing short of a miracle. when the final episode came out he told you it might be a few days before he could come watch it with you and you were disappointed but you understood. minghao wasn’t so upset that you watched it without him, it was more that you didn’t say anything when you did and pretended like you hadn’t seen it. it kinda felt like you were lying to him and he HATES lying. once the two of you talked it out though you were all good.

seungkwan- he made a BIIIGGG deal about it. he was ranting and raving for a good thirty minutes and you just let him. it was your fault after all but once he got it out of his system, he sat down and watched it with you. he also side eyed you for a while but once it got to the good stuff he was so shocked you two feel right back into your usual dynamics. you still had to make it up to him somehow though.

vernon- another unbothered king. he was watching this show mostly for you and knew you probably couldn’t wait anyways so he almost expected it. he chuckled a little and asked if it was good but you refused to spoil anything for him. he agreed that it was good but he’s so lowkey, he never really gives you any sort of crazy reaction. your reliable vernon. 

dino- another one who was disappointed but he’s so in love with you it doesn’t really matter what you do. you can do no wrong in his eyes. while he was a little sad, he still sat down with you and enjoyed the show. he also enjoyed the kisses to make up for your mistake. 

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #scoups #jeonghan #joshua hong #junhui #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #dk #mingyu #the8 #seungkwan #vernon #dino seventeen

[novalunosiss]

It’s almost been 24 hours since vol 2 came out and I’m still super pissed off, so here’s a list of everything wrong in volume 2.

Byler. Queerbait of the fucking century??? I would’ve been significantly less upset if they hadn’t advertised/marketed it so hard during pride month. And making the queer kid the sad gay vessel through which the straight couple thrives is nothing short of homophobic.

The deaths. They advertised this season as being particularly dangerous/full of death, which was a straight up lie. The only people who died were either antagonists or minor background characters, with the exception of Eddie (though it was extremely obvious from the start that he was canon fodder, much like Bob- despite how much I liked Eddie’s character, there was never a doubt in my mind that he wasn’t going to die.)

Max’s “death”. So I know I just did a section on the deaths but this one pissed me off so much I had to give it it’s own seperate section. Max’s “death” was a total copout. Don’t get me wrong, I love her character. But I wish she did die. Having someone die and be brought back to life is such a terrible, cliche, overused trope. It’s too safe of a choice. Where is the danger? I want to actually be scared that the characters I love might not make it out alive. And since when could El bring people back to life? That’s never been explored in the show before, making it completely out of place and confusing when watching the scene. Having Max die would’ve been impactful, and shown to the audience that any of the characters can die, not just new ones, or unimportant background ones. It would’ve raised the stakes! The scene where she “died” was heartbreaking and powerful, but then they negated that by bringing her back to life, rendering the scene pointless. They either should’ve actually genuinely killed her, or not have her “die” at all. Having that “in-between” sort of situation where she technically died, but came back to life (albeit in a coma) was super flaky, and imo, bad writing.

Speaking of bad writing, the time skip! This is genuinely one of the worst things I’ve seen implemented in the show. I generally don’t like time skips anyway, but at least the one at the end of s3 made sense. The main drama of that season was resolved, and they needed to show the Byers moving away. The time skip this season, however, made 0 fucking sense. The drama hadn’t been resolved, it just skipped like half of the climax and the entirety of the falling action, and went straight to the resolution (which wasn’t even a resolution at all). 2 days is a pretty big time skip to implement after skipping half the climax. What happened during those two days??? It was confusing as fuck, and none of the characters actions/behaviour during the “resolution” phase of the story made sense, maybe with the exception of Dustin and Lucas, who were shown to be grieving unlike almost everyone else. You’re telling me that Nancy, Robin and Steve just fought fucking Vecna, almost died, and some of their friends did die (if you count Max) and two days later they’re happily packing up a bunch of old belongings to donate, without a care in the world? And during that scene, there seemed to be little to no concern about Mike’s whereabouts from the entire Wheeler family until he actually showed up. They mentioned they’d been trying to contact them for days, but nothing about their demeanour beforehand implied concern.

The monologue. Need I even say more? It was cheesy, cringey, and made no narrative sense. The reasoning Mike gave for being unable to tell El he loved her was one of the stupidest reasons I’ve seen in media, ever. Where was the “amazing monologue” we were promised by the Duffers? That sure as hell isn’t what I’d call amazing. Finn is a great actor, and he’s done amazing monologues before (*cough cough*, the shed scene) so that isn’t on him, it’s on the shitty script. “I feel like my life first started when I met you in the woods”? Bullshit, and such a cruel thing to say in front of Will, who’s life was literally turned upside down on the exact same day. “I loved you since the moment I saw you”? Love at first sight is a cringey trope. Mike was 12 when he first met Eleven. He probably didn’t even know the meaning of love, especially when you take a look at how dysfunctional his parents marriage is/Nancy, his older sisters relationship at the time was. Also, how can he say he loved her the moment he saw her when he spent most of s1 trying to get rid of her (saying he was going to send her back to pennhurst) and calling her a “weapon”? El could’ve found strength to beat Vecna in something far more significant than a teenage boy telling her he loves her, but noooo.

Will’s painting. I really feel like I don’t have to elaborate on this one. It just fucking sucked. They built it up like it was going to be some really important declaration of love from Will to Mike, only to have it be used to help further Mileven. Also the actual painting was ass, and all the fan theories about it were way better and more meaningful. (Like the idea we all had of the swingset where Mike and Will first met, or even just a painting of the two of them as their D&D characters, but SEPERATE from the rest of the group so it was actually obvious what the painting meant.)

The upside down thing with Henry?? I don’t even know what’s going on there. It was super confusing. Is the mind flayer actually Henry? Did El create the upside down or was it there before? Why did it look like that when Henry first got sent there, but looks like Hawkins now? I know they’ll likely answer these questions next season, but there’s just too many questions and knowing now how shit the duffers are at writing, I doubt they’ll all be answered satisfactorily.

The terrible character development. By that, I mean that there was none. Literally no characters had any development. They were all exactly the same as they were at the start of the season. El is still dependent on Mike/isn’t her own person. Mike is still a fucking asshole who treats his friends like shit. Will is still in the closet and hiding his true feelings from everyone around him. Nancy and Jonathan are still lying to each other. Steve is still pining after Nancy. Robin is still pining after Vickie. I could go on and on.

The Duffers hate minorities + poor people. Will and Robin, the two queer characters, don’t get well rounded love interests like all of the straight characters, and Will in particular is made to suffer constantly. Lucas and Erica, the two black characters, are both physically assaulted. Max and Eddie, the two poorest characters, who are living in a trailer park, fucking die. (from @hellfireds) Oh, also? The Duffers filmed parts of s4 in a fucking Nazi prison, where Jewish people were held against their wills and killed. (from @artmuseumsandoldbooks)

I’m going to keep updating this list as I think of more things that are wrong with vol 2. There’s already so many things I could add if I decided to include the shit wrong with vol 1 as well, but vol 2 was significantly worse so I’m just gonna stick to that. Feel free to suggest anything else I should add to the list

In conclusion, FUCK THE DUFFERS

#stranger things #byler #stranger things spoilers #st spoilers #stranger things season 4 #st4 spoilers #stranger things 4 spoilers #will byers #mike wheeler #byler tumblr #stranger things theory #Byler doubt #stranger things season 4 spoilers #stranger things s4 #eleven stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #fuck the duffers #Duffer brothers #more like suffer brothers #suffer brothers #Dustin Henderson #Lucas Sinclair #Max mayfield #Eddie Munson

[kiteblue42]

Part 4 of - what the heck is going on with Mobius anyway?

S2e5 - the one with where they get the band back together

Disclaimer- I’m a single parent and found it hard to be objective watching this one. For me this episode was a very perfect reflection of how hard, lonely it can be to bring up children by yourself and how you willingly give up so much of yourself for them. They did this very well - I hope they don’t screw this up in the final episode.

A good life, but not a happy one

Mobius timeline life is good but not super happy. He comes across as struggling and lonely. Mobius works 6 days a week, he tries to sell Loki one of his jet skis that he no longer can use, he’s constantly being interrupted at work by his kids, the house is chaos and he had to leave the boys to fend for themselves selves while he was at work (therefore he has no friends or family to watch them or money to pay for childcare). This is a person struggling to keep it together, but he does manage to do so for his boys and he manages to stay kind and positive towards them. The boys are the top of his list of priorities “I can’t leave my boys”/ “I need to check on the kids” “I got to get back to my boys” “I’ll know”. This all speaks of someone who has given up his own wants for the kids and feels guilty about doing anything for himself.

Given the slightly flippant tone of “long gone” when discussing his wife I think it likely she left rather than died (or blipped) - as that’s not how a grieving widower is likely to speak (especially if he might be overheard by the boys).

The whisper of adventure

There are a number of signs that Mobius has a desire for adventure. His love of jet skis, the fact he immediately agreed to try out the time door, how much he loved the idea of being “Mobius.” (“Mobius is a pretty cool name”)

The idea of being your better self

It wasn’t just adventure for fun that’s calling his name though but also the idea of being something more. Mobius reacted emotionally to the idea of himself as someone that would “save my life when I first arrived”. His delivery of “I sell Jet Skis man” showed how little he thought of himself, but also a desire to be something more.

Loneliness

This exchange killed me:

Loki “you saved my life when I first arrived. You saw something in me I hadn’t seen in myself”

Mobius “Are you really my friend?”

Loki “I am”.

Just the way Mobius says this tell us how much he really really wants to believe he could have a friend like this.

Loki’s view of Mobius

Once again the major topic of conversation between Sylvie and Loki is Mobius (this is becoming a theme - and if they do get Sylvie and Loki together it’s just mad and funny).

Anyway this conversation tells us that Loki believed Mobius when he said the TVA was the “only life he knew” and that he “liked it”. Of course there’s an element of this being wishful thinking on Loki’s part, but he is pretty insistent that Mobius should be given the choice. So Loki thinks (at least until Sylvie talks him out of it) that there is a good chance Mobius would chose the TVA - and himself. And as Frigga once said (Thor: dark world) Loki is “.. so perceptive about everyone but yourself”. So I don’t think we should dismiss Loki’s perception about Mobius. (He is also pretty insistent in his conversation with Mobius that “this is not the life of the man I know”. And there’s enough for viewers to see “Mobius” is more at ease with himself than “Don”.)

Sylvie undermines this and persuades Loki he is being selfish. (Side note - Sylvie puzzles me this season and in particular in this episode- if you watch closely she sees that her McDonalds meal disappears and Loki’s drink in the bar disappear too - but says nothing to Loki and does everything to stop Loki from trying to fix it - is it just denial or something more sinister?)

Last episode

So some theory based predictions for Ep 6

Themes that still need payoff:

- order & chaos

- Partners & Friends & loneliness

- Hard choices

Th end of the last episode has me thinking we may get a happy ending because it would be narratively neat to leave Loki surrounded by his new TVA family - especially after the way last episode was concluded.

It would pay off the themes positively as follows:

order & chaos - Loki (chaos) working with TVA (order) to give balance

Partners & Friends & loneliness - Loki and his misfit friends get to stay together so they don’t have to be alone

Hard choices - this one worries me but it would be possible for a number of hard choices to be made that still ends up in a good place (even if it doesn’t seem like it will at the time).

Hard choices Mobius

I think this is aimed specifically at Mobius - Loki made his hard choice in Ep 5 when he was willing to let this team go. I’m hoping they will be able to square the circle with Mobius and his family, because he’ll *not* be ok without the boys or without Loki (& the TVA).

Given this is a time travel show with magic I don’t see why they can’t find an solution to that - because the issue is about not having enough time to both look after the boys and look after yourself. I’ll be super disappointed if they make this unnecessarily miserable by making Mobius give up either his fulfilling life & friends at the TVA or his boys. Though I also won’t be surprised to see this as a plot point. If they try to sell it to me as Mobius being super happy to return to his life I’ll be doubly annoyed.

In theory the boys timeline should be long gone so this choice should not exist, but they seem to be setting up this hard choice for Mobius in particular ( so maybe the loom explosion was meant to be a full reset).

Hanging threads & wild cards

X5 /Brad /Zaniac - is still in the TVA - is he going to cause chaos as they try to fix the loom?

Renslayer - is in the void - will she tame Alioth? Is Miss Minutes really gone or does she have another instance in the citadel at the end of time?

Kang - is HWR really behind everything? Are all the events just one pre-planned trap of HWR?

Sylvie - Sylvie knew more than she has told anyone (eg she saw the disappearance of items and said nothing). She has HWR tempad. Loki treats her like she has words of wisdom so we also tend to accept she is right or benign, but her last piece of advice was completely wrong. She has been acting pretty oddly all season too - what’s up with that? (Worth remembering she is a Loki variant and they are generally not to be trusted).

Romance

My own reading of Mobius remains that he lost his heart to Loki sometime around S1e2. By S1e5 he’d accepted this, but concluded it wasn’t going anywhere - so conveniently he didn’t need to exactly work out what the feelings were. Mainly because Loki was focused on Sylvie. This episode doesn’t change that since we don’t get any TVA Mobius.

Loki on the other hand did give more away this episode - and it was the first one (for me) where it looked like his feelings could be romantic or at least headed that way. Whenever he talks about saving his friends we all know this primarily means Mobius. I mean how much interaction has he really had with the others? The discussion in the bar was particularly instructive- he wants Mobius to have the choice (this is *after* seeing him on the timeline when he knows what Mobius would be giving up) and he desperately hopes Mobius would choose to stay with him. But Sylvie persuades him otherwise.

Sylvie - there is really no sign of the romance from last season left here. Loki does still greatly admire Sylvie. I’d say Loki almost hero worships her - and especially takes what she says about free will and choice as authoritative (as if she were an expert on it). This is consistent with his romantic feelings from s1e4,5&6 which seemed to grow out of his admiration for her radical / free spirit nature. But by this episode it didn’t seem to be romantic any more - rather a mentor / mentee conversation. Loki did not declare he wanted Sylvie back or even anything close to it - and it would have been the obvious time to do that.

Sylvie has never seemed particularly romantically interested in Loki to me. She kissed him to distract him in s1e6 and no doubt thinks he’s quite hot, but that’s all I’m getting. I actually like this about her as a character (she’s just not that into you Loki sorry). I hope she is a bit more villainous than we know (a bit more basic Loki if you will) otherwise she has been a bit of a spare part this season.

I am not expecting any romance from the last episode though mainly because:

(1) I don’t think there is time to do either romance option justice with all the other plot points to be resolved (2) romance is not central to the plot of season 2 - they have pushed the friendship / found family theme hard and that will do for plotting & emotional payoff purposes, and (3) if you want to be commissioned for season 3 you don’t resolve romantic tension. We’re on Tumblr so we all know there are a significant chunk of fans of any media that follow the stories for the romance aspect - and we all know this audience is likely to be very loyal, vocal on social media and will predictably turn up to watch the next season just to see how it plays out. If they resolve a romance arc either way too early they kill a lot of interest in season 3 - people are always more interested in “will they won’t they” than an established relationship.

#loki #mobius #loki spoilers #lokius #mobius m mobius #lokius meta #loki season 2 #loki season 2 theories #loki meta

[texasbama]

don't know why I decided to throw this together but here it is anyway lol

under the cut, I collected little snippets from the recent Ryan interviews that were just...*chefs kiss*

because as much as we claim to love Eddie Diaz and the Buck/Eddie dynamic? Ryan loves them even more and I could listen to him talk about these characters all day

As far as [Eddie's] sexuality, I think it's pretty clear that he's tried to fill in this motherly, this wife type role—that's all he knows," Guzman explained. "And he's a man [that] first off, he's Catholic. Second off, he's from the military. So those are very straight-edge kind of lifestyles that don't offer too much of exploring. But through the 118, he's had this epiphany each year, like, 'Well, maybe I don't know as much as I thought I did. And maybe I should be exploring a little bit more and maybe I should understand myself a little bit more and even seek a therapist,' which is something new for Eddie. So I feel the representation is reflective of the inclusivity that Ryan Murphy's show likes to have and Tim Minear likes to write. (source)

I think the ultimate goal was to show that the connection between Buck and Eddie will remain, and that is going to be stronger than ever...Because now we’ve unveiled this new vulnerable side of Buck, and last season we got to unveil this new vulnerable side of Eddie. So the connection is just that much more simpatico. (source)

So it doesn't matter what he said at that moment. Eddie was going to be there for Buck. And it just happens to be something Eddie had never even thought of. So the initial reaction towards Buck is that of where did this just come from? I didn't even see this. And then the next reaction is, oh, my friend just did something extremely brave. I need to give him all the comfort and safety to know that he can do this for however long he wants to do this. Share with me, come to me. Which I think shows how amazing their friendship is. The whole process, I think, for Eddie is just welcoming Buck into his new obstacles. (source)

And the way Eddie navigates that is just kind of a no, that's just who he is. And nothing ruffles my feathers. Even if you break my ankle or maim me, it's fine. That's who he is, and I love him either way. And there's no competition for Eddie. Watching Buck trying to compare himself to so many people rather than just seeing how special he is. And that's a lot of the messages that Eddie's been giving Buck.He's like, 'No, man. You are an incredible individual. You're worth all the love in the world. And you need to stop doing certain things. And I'm not going to tell you how to do what you got to do for your life, but allow yourself to be great.' And I think that's the evolution of this relationship. It's just kind of being there for each other and allowing each other to feel vulnerable and work with each other. (source)

I think this idealization of replacing Shannon has really stagnated his relationships. So, him giving himself the opportunity to kind of step back and understand that a little bit more before he moves in with another individual and starts the whole process all over again, is a sense of growth for Eddie, and I'm here for it. Because he needs it (source)

#don't know why i did this but just reading through ryan's interviews had me so emotional and im so glad he can speak again #911 #s7 promo #babycakes

[terras-domain]

(Thanks)Giving Season

Characters: Kang Seul-gi (Seulgi), Male Husband (Reader), Husband's Brother

Tags: Cheating, Cuckold, Kitchen Sex, Blowjob, Watching, Caught, Condom, Rough Sex, Forced Submission, Thanksgiving, Cum in Pussy, Abs, Cum Eating

Words: 2941

Author's Note: Hi Hiiiii terra here!!! Been a while since I posted, sorry for that. Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving. Personally I don't celebrate it but I hope to those who did, you guys enjoy it <33 As the tags show it's gonna be a cuckold smut so if it's not your thing, oh well. Enjoy <33

Reader's POV

Thanksgiving. Not the best holiday to be honest, never understood the hype behind it but at least now I have a day off from work to spend some time with my wife, Seulgi. Work has been brutal for me so our time together is precious to me. Opening the front door with a smile to greet her that I'm home, only for me that smile to slowly fade away. "Oh hi, honey!" Seulgi smiled, waving at me as I see her talking to a guest. "Oh hey lil' bro, long time no see hm?" My brother, a person who I haven't seen in years actually. I actually don't bond well with my family in general, which is why my personal time is mostly dedicated to my wife Seulgi. "Hey...what're you doing here?" I asked, an eyebrow lifted as I start to make myself at ease, putting my stuff down and joining my wife and my brother around the living room.

"Awww don't be too cold, lil' bro. Just wanted to see my family for Thanksgiving you know." He gave a big grin, a face that makes me feel so annoyed for some reason, always been all my life. "Now now boys. Let's not be like that, okay? We need to get things done for Thanksgiving" My breath got stuck through my throat. She's right, it's not like I have much time to spend with Seulgi, and I'm not gonna waste the time I get now by arguing with this dumbass. She had planned to cook something special for tonight, so she brought us both to the kitchen, showing the turkey she planned on roasting, only to find it rotten. "Oh fuck! Nooo that fucking butcher lied to me." Now with no turkey, we can't have the so called Thanksgiving spirit. My big brother can't drive, which means there's only one thing I can do now. "I'll go buy you a new one hun. Don't worry about it" Seulgi's eyes sparkled and hugged me tight, euphoric as now her problem has a solution. "Awww thank you sweetheart. I love you." A kiss on the lips I received from my loving wife, followed by her warm smile that just melts my heart. I got myself ready, grabbing my keys and look back to my wife and wave. "I love you Seulgi. And take care of my wife okay?" I looked to my big brother, I don't really like him but I'm sure family still care for each other. "Oh no worries lil bro. Your wife's safe with me."

Seulgi's POV

I'm glad my husband is around to help me with the turkey. It was silly of me to not realize it was rotting. Oh well, I just have to start prepping food for now. My husband is a big fan of Italian food so I thought making him some fettuccine alfredo might make him happy. Dropping the pasta to boil them while I prepare the sauce was pretty much light work for me, I'm used to working alone in the kitchen since my husband isn't often in the house anyways. I checked around and notice my brother-in-law looking deep into my eyes, sometimes shifting to my cooking elsewhere. "Smells good Seulgi. My brother must be happy to have you." His low voice echoes the kitchen. I didn't know how to respond to that but only smile awkwardly, what a weird thing to say I thought. "Oh come on beautiful. Don't be shy. Live a little we're family right? Nothing wrong with a little compliment, especially if it's for a pretty woman like you~" he kept on going with his praises and weird antics, which start to make me get goosebumps. His footsteps felt heavy but firm, slowly inching closer to me as he started to lean towards me, looking at the pot of fettuccini I'm preparing followed by a sniff, trying to smell the food, or so I thought. His face was closer to my hair than it was to my cooking which made me feel a little uncomfortable and insecure as the thoughts in my head start to turn into a reality. He's groping me!

With his hands reaching under my apron and gripping my chest through shielded by the cloth of my clothes, it was hard to push him away since he's so big and muscular. "W-wait. Please don't do this, your brother won't like this." I mumbled, squirming a bit as I'm overpowered, my whole body held tight as my brother-in-law completely gropes me for his pleasure. "Oh no worries beautiful. Your husband ain't doing shit on me. Now let me see how good you feel." His wide grin send shivers down my spine, but when he started to pull my face for a kiss, I felt unreal. My whole life I've only had intimate relationships with my husband so this felt so bad, but not like my brother-in-law cares about it.

"Mmmh Seulgi. You're quite the curvy babe aren't you?" He chuckled, now biting my lips as he has full control over me. I can't escape and just let him use me, hoping my husband can come just in time to save me from this creep. His hard bulge is pressing on my ass cheeks and it's disgusting, having another man than my own husband using me for pleasure. After a few minutes of making out, he pulled out and gave a big grin. "Well time for the real thing bitch. Get down there." My in law now guides me to be on my knees, facing his stifling bulge before he pulled his pants off, showing his erection pointing straight at me. It's huge. Bigger than anything I've ever seen, it made me nervous since I know what's next.

"Well what're you waiting for hoe? Get to it." His thick length started slapping on my face, making me whimper in inferiority. My husband did tell me how much of an asshole he is, and how violent he can be, so I have no other choice. My mouth slowly opened up as I slowly accepted his cock, taking it in inch by inch. It felt so wrong, the way is thick meat makes me choke just by putting the tip in, the way his hands rub on my cheeks and how I'm actually cheating on my husband right now. "Good girl Seulgi. Just need a little bit of...enthusiasm." As he kept his dominant persona going, his wishes are all coming to a reality as he uses me as he please. His hands are on the back of my head, plunging his cock inside as he thrust his hips back and forth. It hurts. My husband isn't as big nor as rough as his brother so this is all new to me. "ghhhh GAAAAK-!" My mouth just kept on making weird noises and choking sounds as he continues his barrages of mouth fucking on my throat, drilling my mouth and using me as a sex object.

Reader's POV

Phew! That took a while. turkey secured, and it's fresh from the oven. Too bad traffic isn't really on my side today, man why does life hate me so much. But all that complaining will soon end as I reached home, excited to see my wife. Creaking the door open I was greeted by nothing by a strange noise, a woman who sounded like she was choking over something. I went to explore my own home, looking for the source of the odd sound as I reached the kitchen. Just like the turkey, my heart fell. Seeing my wife sucking on my brother's cock, bobbing her head back and forth just made me feel sick. "Oh, you're finally here lil bro. Gimme a sec!" He grunted as he pulled out, stroking his 8-inch length while looking down at Seulgi. "Open your mouth, beauty, I wanna cum on that face." He ordered, which my wife seems to obey despite taking a few seconds to follow. I can hear a few sobs coming from her. is it shame, is it resent, or is it just the aftereffect from a rough face fucking she just went through. Regardless, it seems my brother enjoyed my wife a lot when he unloaded his load all on her face, splattering everywhere from her forehead to her chin.

Seulgi's face turned away, looking very shy and scared. "Honey..." I tried to approach her, wanting to know what's going on when my she stopped me in my tracks. "I'm sorry baby. He...he made me do this." She sobbed, looking down to the floor as cum dripped down her face. I had a dead stare to my brother, my face inclining so our eyes exchange eye contact. In those few seconds, memories of how much my brother overpower me in any way came back. How he's physically, mentally and even academically superior to me, which makes him so much better than me. I want to confront, I want him to pay. But with what has happened my whole life, it may be best to just give in, I don't have a choice. I could only walk towards Seulgi, holding her tight and give her a gentle soft kiss. "I love you, Seulgi." the kiss ended, interrupted by the after taste of my brother's semen on my lips. After that I just wiped my wife's face with a clean cloth before walking away cowardly. I need to take my mind off of this, and staying in the kitchen won't help me. I took one last look at my brother, sighing. "She's yours." A defeated frown sticked to my face face as the words flew out of my mouth, and my feet drags across the room.

My words seem to influence my brother for some reason. As soon as I sat on the couch, I couldn't distract myself no matter what is on the TV. My mind still wanders in the kitchen where my brother shreds my wife's clothes off, completely taking advantage of the situation where both me and Seulgi are mentally lost. I could hear banging noises coming from the sink, making my lewd mind imagine how Seulgi looked getting fucked by another man, it made me hard. My penis pitching a tent from my imaginations running wild from the voices that both Seulgi and my brother make aroused me and made me touch myself while fully clothed. A pathetic loser touching himself through his pants while his wife gets fucked rough that is me. Soon I can see the pair walking out of the kitchen both half naked. Seulgi seems to have less resistance towards my brother and just embraces him now. "I'm sorry honey." i stared at the floor, ashamed of my incompetence. Seulgi didn't reply with a single word, instead her facial expression is more than enough to show the disgust she had towards me for giving in too easily.

Seems like they weren't done. No, seems like they were just getting started. My brother sat next to me on the couch, butt-naked while Seulgi climbed up on him, riding his bigger cock as her tight pussy gapes open for her. "Nghhhh ahhh~! Yeah daddy, fuck me, fuck my tight little pussy!" Seulgi's moans and words were like a knife to me, humiliating me as I just looked at my unintended tent, with nobody but myself to please it. I could only resist so much. The bounces Seulgi made, the sheer size of my brother destroying my wife's vagina, the way I was completely ignored. It was degrading me, but at the same time turning me on more, I eventually gave in to my urges and started jacking off, stroking at the site of live porn acted by my wife and my brother. And they both seem to ignore me, it's as if I'm not even there and they just fucked like they've been doing it together for years. "Nghhh fuck Seulgi you little bitch! You love this cock huh? You love it more than you love your husband's? My cock is better than my brother's isn't it?" The questions he asked showed how they both can see me, I'm not invisible, at least not literally. "Nghhh~ yes daddy. Daddy's cock is just too good. My husband feels like a shrimp compared to yours daddy." That single line from my own wife broke me, made me lose myself as I screamed while rubbing my shaft so fast and uncontrollably. It made me cum, splashing drops of dilute cum on my pants. It made me huff and puff for some reason. I've had sex quite some time with Seulgi, but none of them drained me as much as this. I felt like I could pass out, so I retreated and moved to my bedroom to find clarity.

When I thought being alone in the bedroom was enough, it wasn't. My brother crashed in with Seulgi, holding her in his arms carrying like newly weds. They were making out which made me slightly irritated. Again they ignored my existence and just jump on the bed, forcing me to lay on just a small fraction of the mattress. Their make out session broke up and Seulgi now traced back to my brother's long hard shaft. I could've sworn he came a few times already and yet he's still rock solid and raring for more. Seulgi's pretty mouth enveloped his cock, slowly lowering her head before moving back up, and a slow cycle continues as she sucked my brother's cock. What's worse is how I can see our wedding rind on Seulgi's hand, shining to me while her fingers wrap around my brother's shaft. My wife's head game kept on as she went faster after a while, only for my brother to stop her and lift her face up. They made out, making me feel uncomfortable yet so turned on before changed positions, Seulgi's pussy directly above my face.

"I'll fill you up, bitch-" My brother grunted as a tight smack echoes the room, leaving a red handprint on Seulgi's ass. It made Seulgi scream out a submissive moan too and a drop of cum dripped down her pussy and onto my face. It seems like they didn't want to waste any time and went straight to business, with their two bodies connecting, my brother's cock penetrating my wife's pussy and I got the best, or worst view to see it happening. "Ngaaah~! Aaaaah aahhh yessss~!" Seulgi's moans became vocal, the opposite of her behaviour a while back. She's just lost in lust, just like me it seems. "Harder daddy pleaseeee~" She plead, her head twisting back to face my brother acting like it's only them in the room and I'm nowhere in the scene. "Fuucckkk shut the fuck up slut. I didn't tell you can order me around." With a rough yank on her her, Seulgi's moans became only louder. With precum from both of their private parts leaking on me, I couldn't have felt more humiliated, but somehow I'm happy. It made me feel content to listen to my wife's sweet and loud moans, even if it's not from me.

"Mmmh~ Daddy's cock is getting bigger in me oh god!" Her pussy bulges as she finished her sentence. He's about to cum, isn't he, I thought. "Nghhh yeaahhh...fuck I'm gonna fucking fill you up Seulgi!" He grunted, digging his nails into her hips as my brother starts to buckle his hips harder until eventually he came, bursting inside my wife. There's so much cum inside it was up to a point where the cum from the pair drips down on me, covering my face with cum. It was embarassing, having them cum on me in my bed in this manner and cuck me. After all that, Seulgi finally looked at me. "Do you want to cum baby?" Her words are still as sweet as ever, but her expressions sure seemed cold, of course I'd say yes. I was so eager to put my cock in her until she stopped me, handing me over an S size condom.

Of course, it was a bit too tight for me but I don't feel much physical pain. I ended up finally getting to fuck my wife, despite only by wearing a small condom. My thrusts were clear to be ineffective, as Seulgi's fake moans just makes me so humiliated and degraded. "Fuuuck hunny! It feels so good!" I screamed, getting closer to my climax despite only being a few thrusts in. "Mhm, okay sure. Cum then baby" Her replies seem to be short and uninteresting. It just fuels up my self-degradation which made me cum so much sperm in the condom, filling it up. "Aaaaah, nghhhh~" My whimpers were so weak, it sounded like I could faint any moment. But my wife wouldn't let me yet, not after being a coward and not standing up for his wife. She pulled off the condom from my cock and spilt it on her stomach, making her abs more defined. "Eat it" She ordered, and I had no choice but to oblige. Licking and cleaning my wife's fit body, cleaning her abs from my worthless cum felt both horrible and amazing at the same time, most probably because of how fucked my mind is at this point. I felt defeated and lay on my back beside Seulgi, before hearing her whisper. "I love you honey~" followed by a sweet giggle before my brother joins back in bed with her. Sure she still says she loves me, but for some reason I believe she loves his cock more.

#kpop smut #red velvet smut #seulgi smut #cheating #gg smut

[loveislandthegame]

my overall thoughts on season 7, writing edition: what in the world ? 😭 i cannot believe i thought this season was gonna be good. i’ll be joining rohan & S2 MC in the circus, since FB made me look like a damn clown. i don't even know where to begin

being a casa girl had so much potential, and it was something that a lot of players actually wanted, even before FB started doing these themed seasons. they really fumbled the bag here

i enjoyed casa amor. the guys were all unique, had their own dialogue, and it was cool to see their pre-established relationships (alex being the villa dad, bryson and rafa being partners in chaos, the beef between bryson & joyo) then we arrived in the villa, and it all went downhill from there:

everybody became an empty husk, so they could be forced into interchangeable roles: uma’s partner, bonnie’s partner, OG LI’s ex, loved up couple (summer/joyo or #rafne) to name a few. FB’s lazy asses ruined their own characters . why is alex, the supposed level-headed & mature one, being petty & childish af in my playthrough? 😭

MC literally had no thoughts, head empty. we barely participated in any of the challenges and games. it felt like we didn't do anything besides "get pulled for a chat" by your LI or the girls

the LI personality merge in this season was the worst it has ever been. all they do is agree with whatever you say, or tell you how great you are (gone are the days of LIs having their own interests, & getting extra dialogue because of that, like levi with artist MCs)

same problem as the most recent seasons, where MC doesn’t have friendships. she has a forced bestie, then potential LIs that sit around waiting for you to pick them, choose them, love them (they immediately disappear if you don’t pick them)

the plot made no sense at all. being a casa girl means we miss out on the first half of the season, but there were many different ways they could've shown what happened before we arrived (it couldve been something as simple as MC watching the show at home or during the jeep ride to the villa. lol) the timeline was inconsistent, so much important information was paywalled, and i’m pretty sure FB was just making shit up as they went along, since the drama with stephen and OG LI's ex genuinely came out of nowhere . he wasn’t previously mentioned in the beach hut, casa amor, nothing . his only purpose was to make the OG girl look bad.

speaking of the OG girls, what a disappointment . before we got to the villa, i honestly thought they were hinting at estelle and/or willow being LIs . even if they were forced to be our rival, they still could’ve had an interesting character arc . it would've been a lot more fun if she was like allegra, rather than OG LI's equivalent of suresh

i was gonna write, "why tf did she even make it to the finale?" but the answer is obvious : for the gem scenes. every damn volume, it's pay diamonds to upstage her, pay diamonds to clapback, pay diamonds so “your man” doesn't turn his head 🙄 it's already stupid enough, but it makes even less sense if you're not pursuing your OG LI

which leads me to the biggest problem of this season, the lack of branching. you're given the illusion of choice, everything leads to the same outcome . i didn't think it could get any worse, until i saw what happens when you choose the money . does your LI storm off? nope. they make you do the treasure hunt anyways...to win you back ??😭 MC should've called security on their ass

s7 had a promising start but ended up being a flop. it was better than s5, but that's really not saying much . i wish FB would just take their time—s1 and 2 had a whole year long gap between them. but it's clear that rushed seasons are gonna be the norm, season 8 is dropping in february . capitalism ruins everything luv x

#making a separate post about the art for the sake of my own eyes...i really hate making long posts #love island the game #litg #litg season 7 #litg s7 #litg spoilers

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 3

Part 2 | part 4

↝a/n: We're getting closer to the kiss!! I'm so excited! I've had the kiss written for 2 chapters. Also I'm so confused on how to spell Vickie's name. I had been writing Vicky but it looked wrong so I looked it up and it's apparently Vickie. I don't care enough to fix it with my other work so ignore it.

↝pairing:Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝Warning: mention of death, the graphic details of what Eddie said with Chrissy's death, not proof read. Possible spoilers if you still haven't watched season 4, everything that happens in stranger things, slow burn, Vickie doesn't exist here, not because I don't like her, but because it's easier to write for Robin when she's not madly in love with another chick.

↝⎙ 7.11.23

Italic is memories

“The way he looked at you!” Chrissy continued to gush, kicking her feet in a 'schoolgirl' way. She stared up at you with her head in her hands, laying on her stomach. Homework was long forgotten.

“He looks at everyone like that.” Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your dresser, looking in the top drawer for a certain shirt you were meant to of wore the day before. You were pretty sure Nancy had stolen it at this point. Wouldn't have been the first shirt that had just wound up missing just for you to see in either in Nancy's clothes basket or on her. “I saw him look at Mrs. O'Relle and I thought he was going to combust. He's just a naturally flirty guy. I don't even think he realizes it most of the time."

"Oh, okay. Yeah." With her tone and the smile on her face, it was obvious she didn't believe a word you said.

After closing the drawer harder than you meant to, you turned, glaring at the girl. "Anyway...i don't like him."

You regretted the way you said 'him' as soon as it rolled off your tongue. But you tried to play it off cool. However, she didn't.

"So there's another guy!" You were quick to shush her, with it being night and Holly had already been put to bed and the fact you did not want your parents or siblings knowing anything about your love life. "Sorry." She moved to sit up, watching as you sat on the edge of the mattress. "So...?"

"So what?"

"What's so special about this guy?" She said it as if you were stupid for asking.

"Nothing. Well, not like-" Closing your mouth, you couldn't find the words. Your eyes danced around your room, taking in the tacky paint from your childhood that you have yet to cover up. "He's different." No matter how much she tried for you to meet her eye, yours stayed glued to the wall In front of you.

After a few moments of silence, you glanced over, her face telling you to continue. Her smile was so sweet, happy for you.

"He's nice." She. She's nice. But Chrissy didn't need to know that. This is the first time you've told her about anyone you have ever fancied in the 5 years you two have been the best of friends. She was over the moon. "He's smart. He looks good in blue or green." Chrissy noticed the way your lip twitched into a small smile at the thought of this mystery 'man'.

"What's he look like?"

"Light brown hair, blue eyes." You began fiddling with your night shirt. "Tall. Taller than me, at least. Uh," You glanced back over, not wanting to be telling her this anymore. Sure, you've wanted to tell someone how you felt, how a girl you barely talk to could make you feel all kinds of giddy without meaning to. But this was too much. "Actually, I don't want to talk about this anymore. If you don't mind."

Before she could reply, you clicked your lamp off, leaving you to get under the blankets in the dark.

Robin's nice. She's smart. She looks good in blue or green. She had light-brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She is taller than you. She is beautiful. She is someone you couldn't even admit to liking to your closest friend.

You know Chrissy would never judge you or make you feel less than, but it was just different. It always would be. Sadly.

"He sounds nice, like someone you should admit your feelings to." Chrissy spoke up after a moment of silence, of which you had stared above you, darkness blocking the color of the ceiling. You nearly scoffed at her words. But you settled on humming in agreement, or maybe just to satisfy her.

•••••

"Her body just, like, lifted up in the air and, uh..and she just hung there In the air." You all but flinched as Eddie explained what had happened, more in detail than what Max had explained, obviously. Robin glanced at you ever so often, seeing you winch, wanting nothing more than to reach out and cover your ears or make Eddie stop talking. But they needed to know this, what had happened and maybe figure out why and what caused it. Because it certainly wasn't him.

You glanced up for a split second, catching Robin's concerned eyes. She held the eye contact for a few seconds before looking back at Eddie, who was distraught and certainly didn't know what to do and where to go from here.

•••••

"Shh!" You tried to steady a giggling Chrissy. She kept moving and wobbling, making it hard to walk straight when you, yourself were drunk. You really didn't want your parents hearing you stumbling through the house.

"Tonight was so fun!" She whispered yelled, getting a look from you before you shushed her again. You tried to help her up the stairs, cringing when she'd giggle again or the stairs would creak.

Today had been a close game, making everyone stressed, which made tonight the night where everyone had gotten drunk in a close celebration. You and Chrissy weren't people to drink, mostly because you were underage, but as said before, today was stressful. Maybe Chrissy had gotten a little too drunk. This was the first time, however. She's never one to take more than a few sips, out of the bitter taste that she hated. She would've probably drunk more if you hadn't told her it was time to go.

Finally up the stairs, you turned her body towards your room, holding your breath before you tried to guide her in the darkness.

Hearing a door creak open, you froze. Turning slightly, you saw Nancy looking at you with a disappointed mom face. She rolled her eyes before closing the door. You went back to your friend, shushing her again when she decided almost tripping over air was hilarious. She's definitely a giggle drunk.

Opening your door, you gently pushed her in. She dropped on your bed, face first, most likely smearing her makeup on your duvet.

Sighing, you went through your drawer, before throwing a big shirt at her. She flipped over, looking at the shirt as you went to the connected bathroom to change.

Walking out, you saw she had changed and was already in under the blanket.

She motioned for you to hurry, bringing the blanket up more. "Tonight was so fun." She repeated.

You hummed, getting under the blanket.

She continued talking. "Robin seems nice."

"Mhm."

"You two seem to be getting close."

"Yeah, we work together in, like, 2 classes. She's smart."

"Smart and nice."

"Yep." You flipped over, hiding the slight blush from talking about Robin. Not like it was much use, with how dark it was.

"Smart, nice, brown hair, blue eyes. She's taller than you. OH MY GOD." She jumped up, eyes wide.

You quickly turned, shushing her yet again, trying to get her to lay back down.

"She's just like your crush!" She whispered yelled, again, not really whispering.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, just lay back down."

"That's so crazy." She began to lay back down.

After a few moments, she spoke up again. You had to stop yourself from huffing, after nearly going to sleep.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Chrissy?"

"Is Robin your crush?" You felt as if your heart fell out of your ass.

"No, why would you think that?" You stayed looking away from her, stretching your hands out so they'd stop shaking.

"She's the exact description of your crush. I mean, it makes sense. You have been hanging out-"

"We're partners in class-"

She continued, "You act different around her."

"Only because I don't really know her like I know you-"

"It's okay. I promise."

You turned, knowing she's looking back at you. You feel like you could cry right now.

"Chrissy, please go to sleep." You whispered, closing your eyes.

"Okay!" She turned, getting comfortable before her snores started not even 3 minutes later.

Good God.

•••••

"And her bones-" Eddie made a sound, cringing, hating how it all replayed in his head. "Her bones started to snap."

You stood from where you had squatted, feeling like you were getting strangled by air itself. Rubbing against your chin, you didn't know whether to keep listening or step outside, where the cool night air might make you feel better. Eddie continued, "Her eyes, man."

Turning, you stepped over the other people and the mess of the shed floor, not really giving yourself time to grab your flashlight. "It-it was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling."

The door slammed closed behind you. The cool air fanned against your face, feeling the complete opposite of the frantic hot breaths making your lips and hands tremble.

After a few moments, the door creaked open, a flashlight shining around until it shined on you.

"Dustin's telling Eddie everything." Robin finally spoke after a moment. You simply nodded, looking into the nothingness of the night. "They said something about Vecna's Curse?" It sounded more oof a question than a statement, honestly.

"The D&D dude?" She shrugged, not really knowing, herself. "Oh my- if I hear one more thing about that stupid game...I'm actually going to lose my mind." She dryly chuckled, pointing the flashlight around the shed, noting how scary it looked with all the trees around. "It's getting chilly, let's see what they're doing for the night." Her hand skimmed the tin door, looking at you to follow her. She watched you shakingly inhale before stepping behind, following her back in. She didn't really know what else to do than send a sympathetic smile before turning around, opening the door.

•••••

"I'm scared!" You wailed, utterly done with this world at the moment. You really didn't care if you sounded like every teenager going through it.

Chrissy looked at you with so much question, not prying question. She wanted so dearly to hear you, to know how you're feeling and what's making you feel that way.

This wasn't how she pictured the conversation going. She innocently asked about Robin and how she was. But somehow it escalated to her telling you to just tell her how you felt, how you longed to be able to touch her soft skin, tell her all the things you have held back all this time.

"Why?"

"Why?" immediately you felt bad for raising your voice when Chrissy's own voiced wasn't. Hers was soft, genuine. "I can't just tell her."

She wasn't oblivious, she knew why you couldn't openly express your love for someone, not like she could with Jason. "You don't have to kiss in public, just...tell her. She could feel the same-"

"Or she couldn't. And next thing you know, I'm the laughing stock of Hawkins. People can be cruel, Chrissy." Your voice was strained, as was your head pounding. "I just don't want to talk about it."

Although Chrissy wanted nothing more for you to open up to her, she let off for the time being. Maybe she felt guilty for always coming to you when something is a slight convenience to her. Or maybe she felt hurt that she would tell you everything, while you were so closed off. It made her think that you didn't trust her like she trusted you.

•••••

"Jesus!" Dustin kicked the door to the shed open, startling Eddie.

"Delivery service." The kid tried to lighten the mood, seeing his friend so on edge.

It was disgusting how Eddie was stuffing his mouth with food, but you get it. He hadn't eaten since the day before, and probably heaved that up.

"So we got, uh, some good news and some bad news." Dustin started. "How do you prefer it?"

"Bad news first, always."

"Alright bad news." Dustin continued. You couldn't help the yawn that made you cover your mouth, turning to face the water that looked so calm. "We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they're defiantly looking for you. Also they're uh,"

"They're pretty convinced you killed Chrissy." Eddie turned to look at you as you turned your eyes away from the open view.

"Like, 100% kind of convinced." Max spoke up from where she sat behind you.

Eddie turned back to his friend, awaiting the supposed 'good news'. "And the good news?"

"You name hasn't gone public yet." Both you and Eddie turned to Robin, both for entirely different reasons. Her eyes fell down to yours for a split second, before returning to Eddie's curious ones. "But if we found out about you, it's a matter of time before other do too and, once this gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you."

"Hunt the freak, right?"

"Exactly."

"Shit."

"So," Dustin spoke up again, "Before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence." The way he spoke, it seemed like the easiest thing to do in the whole wide world.

"That's all, Dustin? That's all?" Sarcasm dripped from Eddie's words like vemon.

"Yeah, no, that's pretty much it."

"Listen, Eddie." Once again, you attention was on Robin.

Her hair looked pretty today.

"I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional," You couldn't help watch her hands as she waved them around. "But we've actually been through this kind of thing before. I mean, they have a...few times, and i have once. Mine was more human-flesh-based, and theirs was more smoke-related." She sighed, catching herself rambling. "But bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this."

Even as Steve began talking, you stayed looking at her, maybe longer than you should have because she glanced back down. "We usually rely on this girl who has super powers. But uh those went bye-bye, so..."

Robin spoke, "So we're technically in more of the-"

"Kinda-" Steve waved around.

"Brainstorming phase." Max concluded.

"Brainstorming." Steve snapped his fingers at her.

Eddie looked the most unsure of something you've ever seen somebody.

Dustin began sputtering, his voice going up an octave. "There...there's nothing to worry about."

Steve scoffed, nodding along with Dustin. Eddie titled his head at them.

"Eddie, look." He turned to you, looking for some kind of help here. "You don't really have a choice." You didn't mean for the words to come out as harsh as they did, but with the lack of sleep and the headache that was soon to be coming, you really didn't feel like apologizing, atleast not right now.

Sirens rang out, causing everyone to panic and rush forward towards Eddie.

"Tarp." Robin pointed at the blue tarp. "Tarp. Tarp." Eddie rushed to hide back under the thing he had been hiding under all night.

You all ran towards the window, watching as cop cars and an ambulance flew past.

"Nancy." You were the first out of the car when Steve parked, nearly climbing over Robin in doing so. Nancy looked out of it, not know her right from left, up from down. She watched the car pull up, looking as if she was about to burst out in tears any second.

You held your sister in your arms, rubbing your hand up and down her back, trying to ease her emotions from your spot beside her.

"So, you're saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it's from the Upside Down?"

"If the shoe fits." Steve responded to Nancy.

"Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse." Dustin wasn't quite sure of anything, at this point. "Now, whether or not he's doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don't know."

Nancy shrugged your arms off of her, causing a frown to form on your face. But you didn't push it. Instead, you folded your arms over your chest, pushing another yawn down.

Max spoke up, "All we know is this is something different. Something new."

"Doesn't make sense." Nancy stated. Of course it doesn't make sense, nothing has for the past few years.

"It's only a theory."

"No, Fred and Chrissy don't make sense. I mean, why them?"

"Maybe they were at the wrong place at the wrong time." Dustin countered, "They were both at the game."

"And near the trailer park."

"..."

"We're at the trailer park." You and Steve spoke in unison, looked at each other, uneasy.

"Uh, should we maybe not be here?"

Everyone glanced around, uncomfortable.

"There is something about this place."

"Let's go." You stood, kicking your legs out from the table.

Yet, no one followed.

"Fred started acting weird the second we got here."

"Then let's leave." You urged them to get up, maybe run to the car and get the hell out of here.

"Acting weird as in...?" Robin questioned, watching as you looked around, a pit in your stomach.

"Scared, on edge, upset."

"Max said Chrissy was upset too."

"Yeah, but not here." Max stated, remembering back to the bathroom. She turned to you, knowing you said she'd been acting weird around you too.

"We can actually talk about this in the car."

Max continued, "She was crying in the bathroom at school."

Looking away from everyone, you nearly jumped out of your skin when Robin touched your arm, trying to ease your nerves. Your face grew red, from the scare, of course. Not from her skin touching yours. Not one bit.

"Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?" You gawked at her, "So maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this vecman-"

"Vecna." Dustin quickly corrected.

"Dunno about you guys, but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to somebody."

"Maybe they did." Max states, "I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley's office. If you saw a monster, you wouldn't go to the police. They'd never believe you."

To be fair, if you hadn't seen it multiple times in real life, you wouldn't believe anyone either. Unless it was Chrissy.

"But you might go to your-"

"Your shrink."

Max's nod was enough for you to begin walking back to the car, knowing they were going to do the same. The faster you were out of this trailer park, the better.

"Woah, woah, woah, Nance. Nance!" Looking back, you watched Steve go after Nancy, seeing her walking away from his car. "Nance, where are you going?"

"Oh, there's just something I want to check out first." She continued to walk backwards.

"Something you wanna share with us?" Dustine threw his arms open in question.

"Nancy?" You questioned her, not quite sure what was going through her brain, but you knew it was moving too fast right now.

"I don't want to waste your time. It's a real shot in the dark."

"Yeah, okay. Are you out of your mind? Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No, it's too dangerious. You need," He glanced back at the rest of us, before looking back at her. "You need someone to..." He trailed off before turning and throwing his keys at Robin. "Here, i'll stick with Nance, alright. You guys take the car, check out the shrink."

"I don't think you want me driving your car."

"Why?"

"I don't have a license."

"Why don't you have a license?" He looked utter flabbergasted, as if he hadn't been driving her around everywhere.

"I'm poor."

Steve turned to you, getting a frantic shake of your head.

"Absolutely not." It was too nerve wracking for you. The first time you tried driving, you nearly had a panic attack and your mother had to calm you down from the passenger seat.

"I can drive." Max spoke up, nearly making Steve have an aneurysm. You could practically see memories of before flashing behind his eyes, causing you to hide your smile.

He automatically pointed at her, "No! No. Never again. Please. Anyone but you. No."

Dustin shrugged, suggesting himself. "No chance." Steve sighed, "No."

"C'mon."

"Alright, okay. This is stupid." Robin grabbed a flashlight out of Dustin's bag, walking towards Steve and dropping his keys back in his hands. "Us ladies will stick together." She turned, grabbing your arm and walking to Nancy. She gave you a questioning look, asking if you wanted to go with them. You slightly smiled, grabbing a flashlight out of the bag next, as Robin continued to poke fun at Steve. "Unless you think we need you to protect us."

Steve sighed.

Robin smiled at him as he shook his head, before turning to walk towards Nancy's car.

"Be careful!" He called out, watching as you got into the car.

"Just gonna stand there and gawk?"

"Shut up."

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#sarahwasfound🍉 #i wanna be yours #📼 #robin buckley #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things fanfic #robin buckley angst #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x female reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #Robin Buckley x fem!wheeler!reader #stranger things x wheeler!reader #robin buckley x wheeler!reader

[nourrris]

I'm happy there was no season 4.

This could either be a popular, or very unpopular opinion, I'm unsure as frankly I've only began watching two days ago, and finished the show already, (god it was beautiful).

Anyways, I very firmly believe anything after a season 3 would have likely ruined the storyline, it ended on such a beautiful note, something that's so perfectly them. I'm also in a way, happy they never actually did kiss, although realistically I had been rooting for it to happen, the fact it didn't doesn't bother me one bit, it really brings out all the intimacy in their prior actions, and words, I love that their love was batshit insane, that it didn't need a kiss or pda to believe it was reciprocated, frankly surrendering eachothers lives together was more than enough for a confirmation.

But continuing on, I believe a season 4 would have been too messy, they left s3 on a very difficult position to recover off, and a position that didn't need recovering either, it didn't need fixing or changing - not one bit. It was so perfect in my opinion, their last things they did was kill a man together to save one another, then kill themseleves together, literally how much more fitting could it have been for these murder husbands? It just worked so well, that nothing can be more intimate than death for them, in my opinion.

Latching onto the last part of the first section of the post, I really liked how they portrayed the reciprocity of Will's feelings towards Hannibal. When Bedelia ask's Will if he 'aches' for Hannibal too, and it cuts off to another scene, I generally already took that as a yes, as it was a big damn claim, I don't think it's something you easily hesitate on, not when the person in question is a cannibalistic murderer. When he chooses to save Hannibal, and jump off the cliff with him though, that is the real confirmation of course, choosing to leave his wife and son, all friends and absolutely every inch of the life he made - for Hannibal, a man he physically could not get over no matter how hard he tried.

It's perfect, sorry I just finished the show today (like a few hours ago) and I love it so dearly, I've never watched something where the ending felt so genuinely satisfying, even if it seemingly hadn't meant to felt like a finale in that manner, it worked amazingly, I'm very glad it wasn't a s2 situation with such an insane cliff hanger, or else I would have probably just.. never watched the show. Some say it does feel like a cliff hanger, but eventually you can come to terms and realize that their actions, a double suicide in the name of love(?) couldn't possibly surpass anything else they've done at that point, their action's have led them to either horribly idiotic situations, or blissful moments.

Lastly I wanted to mention my original assumption of the ending, I midway through season 2 found out Hannibal was actually a incomplete cancelled show, also prior to that I found through spoilers that will eventually has a wife. Those facts are important because I very weirdly am a person who cannot consume a media without spoilers, (my anxiety is due to that). So I just about know every ending of a show before I'm even halfway into it, although I tend to prefer to wait later, I wondered if finishing the show was worth it so i searched it up, and watched briefly the ending, It was very relieving as if it actually did truly end in a heterosexual way it would have immediately made me quit the show, as yes they are intimite but I still did want any type of closure, without it I would have felt at most pretty indifferent with the ending.

Anyways, the show is beautiful, I love it so so much, even if it's a complete change in genres for me, I love the characters, I love the artistry and creativity in the show, and god do I love the ending.

(edit a day later: guys i totally missed that last scene w bedelia at the end, i still prefer s3's ending but did not know it was implied they were alive!!??!)

#hannibal tv show #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #will graham #sorry if theres typos #tis 10:30am #ive been awake since 5pm #spent all day watching hannibal (whoops)