#right now my brain's just hopping from one to another every three days

[elialys]

i wish my hypefixations would settle the fuck down

#i can only hypefocus on one thing at a time #right now my brain's just hopping from one to another every three days #which makes writing any fanfic impossible since I CANT WRITE IF IM NOT HYPERFOCUSED #was having a jolly good time with DW again #now i want to replay all the horizon games #and rewatch fringe #personal #hypefixation

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 4

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Happy to be posting another chapter! Please enjoy :)

We drive all morning.

The leafy dirt and tilted trees of the quarry crawl past our windows, and they take about an hour to turn into cement roads, gas stations, pharmacies and corner stores with the windows busted out. We're in an empty town, now, trailing the sidewalks like a long line of ants.

At the head of the group is officer Rick's car, leading us left and right 'round the edges of danger and death, 'cause that's what cops do. Behind him is Morales' car. Then, me and my Dad are in the middle, and behind us is the RV. At the back, sandwiching us all together, 'cause he's the only other cop, is officer Shane. His voice crackles up on the walkie every few minutes, goin', everything lookin' good up front, over, which Rick's voice answers, all's good, over, except for that one time, 'cause there was a dead buck blocking the road, and they had to get out and shove it off.

Sometimes we'll get a, Daryl, from one of them, which means, How's Harley, which means, Do we need to pull over and shoot your daughter in the face, and my Dad always answers with a, Keep drivin', and he throws the walkie down like it tried biting him.

Adults like addin' layers onto what they say, 'cause the truth is too offensive to say out loud.

My Dad's watchin' me real close; closer than the road, even. He's chewin' on his thumb.

Things were a little like this when it was just us, in the beginning. All we did for the first three days was drive.

Then, we found these people.

I think about Rick — And how just for one more day, he saved my life.

He split Sophia's Dad in half with a bullet, to keep him from ripping me up. Without him, maybe those teeth in my shoe would'a had one more moment to sink into me, and I'd be dead again, some other way. The only reason I'm able to feel the sun on my skin right now, and listen to the birds as they flutter and chirp on the phone lines is because of Rick, the man who killed my Uncle. I'm half-dyin', and Rick — He's half-good. There might be walker germs inside my body, and they might be squirming their way into my lungs, and my heart, and eventually, my brain, which will turn me into one more dead name the living will have to carry around with 'em, and my Dad will be sad forever, but today, I get to watch the sky pass over us.

That's just enough, I think, for me to only hate officer Rick with half of everything I got.

The walkie chimes.

"Daryl?" It's Rick, again, and I know his police badge is prolly winkin' in the sunlight.

Do we need to shoot your daughter in the face? Did I fail?

Dad snatches up the walkie. He don't like answering the secret question that Rick's askin', not one bit.

"No. Keep drivin'."

He throws it down and goes back to chewin' his thumb, bouncin' his knee, and glancin' at my arm. If he could, he'd blast the music so loud that there wasn't enough space left in his head to think so hard about everything. I go back to watching the clouds pass by, just for today.

We drive all morning, and then after that, we drive all afternoon.

Somebody honks twice, quick. Honk, honk.

That's code for, everybody pull over; something's wrong.

"Stay here, chicken," My Dad mutters, before he hops out. We're in a parking lot for a supermarket.

The adults gather, and the kids are all lookin' at each other through the windows, mouthing what's going on, and frowning. We all shrug.

My Dad comes back a few minutes later.

"Old man says the RV's runnin' on fumes." Dad reports, folding him arms on my window.

"What's that mean?" I ask him.

I can feel nausea spilling in through my stomach; rolling inside my skull, for the third time today.

"Means we're gonna have to stay here for a little bit." He sighs.

The first thing I do when he lets me out the truck is retch my guts up onto the front tyre.

Heads turn, and I know everybody's already makin' excuses in their heads, like I'm just feeling car-sick, but it's just not true. I'm not car-sick. I've been throwing up since yesterday, and everyone knows it, 'cause they watch me like hawks.

My Dad helps me use a spare shirt to wipe my chin clean, and then he sets me up in one of the camping chairs people are pulling out for the long wait. He makes me drink some water, three big sips, and he finds me an apple to nibble on, nagging me to eat as much I can. I hesitate, 'cause it's just gonna end up in another slimy puddle of vomit some hours from now, but I bite into it, anyway.

He tells me to stay put, and then he's leaving with all the other men to search for gas. The women hover around me — Some sitting, some leaning, some standing, but all of 'em starin'. Except for poor, poor Andrea, who's not staring at anything other than her shoes. I feel like Andrea.

More apples and water get passed around.

"Sweetie, I just wanted to tell you I'm so sorry." Lori says to me. "I should have been paying more attention. I shouldn't have let you run off."

I force myself to look at her. "Don't be sorry. It's my fault."

"Oh," She sighs, and she just looks so, so sad. "Please don't say that. It's not your fault."

But, "It is my fault." I tell her. "I ran away."

Carol speaks up. "Honey, what happened was not your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. It was just... a terrible, terrible accident."

Jacqui nods. "Don't blame yourself."

"Rick feels awful." Lori admits. "After Atlanta, after Merle... Now, this. God. He's just so torn up about it."

I shrink into my chair, 'cause I don't wanna hear a single word 'bout Rick, or his feelings. He saved me, but he's not my friend, and I don't have to care about his feelings; especially not when they're about murdering my family. I don't have to care about any of their feelings. I think they're forgetting that I'm also waiting to see if I die. They keep glancing at my skin, my eyes, and my fingers, which aren't twitching, yet — But, so am I. I don't want to die. I want to listen to the birds every day. I want to see my Dad, too. I want to watch the stars at night, and pick out the shiniest one.

"Okay," Is all I can croak out, 'cause there's something very thin inside of me that's stopping me from crying, and I don't wanna break it.

Then — "God," It's Andrea, and she's laughing. "She's dying! The kid is dying, people!"

I whip my head up. The other women gasp.

"Last thing she wants is you people pestering her all-damn day, so just do her a favor and shut your traps."

Everyone is gobsmacked, as Dale likes to say. Their mouths are hanging open, and their eyes are all shifty, like they're lookin' around to see if everyone just heard what they just heard. But, yep, they heard right. Andrea just said the word dying, which is basically a cuss word, and nobody can do anything to take it back.

You can't swallow words you already said. I know that, 'cause I've tried, like the night I told my Dad he killed my Momma.

"Or Daryl's gonna come back and do it for you."

Andrea don't even care 'bout the stares. She goes back to eating her apple. 

"I don't think that's appropriate," Lori tells her.

Jacqui sighs. "Let's just talk about something else, y'all, huh? Like, uh..."

"There's nothing else to talk about, Jacqui. We're all just playing the waiting game, here. Whether we talk about the damn weather or not isn't gonna change the fact that we might have to shoot Harley in the face in a few hours."

Andrea's right, and nobody can change it.

After that, all we do is wait, and wait, and wait, for me to start twitching. Nobody likes this game.

To keep busy, me and the other kids scribble flowers and stick-men into the tarmac with some chalk that Carol finds in a trunk, and she makes sure to compliment my drawings way more than the others, even though they're kinda wonky. Carl snacks on some jerky. Then Dale wonders on back, and we get to listen to some more of his poetry book, which has teeny-tiny letters that he needs to put his glasses on to read. It makes him look more like everybody's grandpas than he already does. My Grandpappy Dixon, though — He wouldn't read no damn poetry book. He'd chop it up and use it for firewood, just so he could burn some more poetry books.

We're on a poem about a newborn lamb when the men come back.

They're all carrying jerry cans and plastic tubing and heavy, droopy frowns that mean bad news. Glenn flops onto a chair and when he shakes his head, sweat goes flying off, and his arms are covered in black car soot. Morales and T-Dog pinch and shake out their sweaty shirts.

My Dad stands behind my chair, squeezing onto the muscles on either side of my neck.

"You eatcher apple?" He murmurs to me.

"Yeah," I murmur back, and he nods.

Everybody straightens.

"Alright, y'all." Rick hooks his thumbs into his belt. "At the moment, we're only getting gas from 'bout one outta every fifteen cars we check, which'll have us back on the road in about a couple hours. I'm aware that ain't ideal. I'm aware we're on a time limit, here. But we don't have a lotta options."

"There's space in the RV." Comments Dale. "We could ditch one of the cars; pile in the RV."

Shane tries to laugh. "That's a whole lotta pilin', there, Dale."

Glenn looks like he hates to say it, but, "He's right. We've already got me, Jacqui, Carol, Sophia and Andrea crammed in there."

Dale deflates and goes back to stroking his beard.

"Now, this here's a parking lot, people." Shane announces. "There's cars here. There's gas. We're just gonna have to stick it out 'til then."

There's a general wave of disagreement passing over everyone's faces.

I know what they're thinking.

"Is someone going to say it?" Carol huffs, and nope, nobody's going to say it, so she has to. "Harley can't just, 'stick it out'."

We haven't had a real conversation about this. My imminent maybe-death has only been passed around in whispers and mumbles, like a bad stain nobody wants to hold onto for too long. Nobody wants to mention my weak stomach or just how much I've been hurling up my food, because that way, it can't just exist in the background, anymore. It has to take a front seat, where they can see it; where it's scarier.

As soon as the words come out Carol's mouth, eyes start jumping around, as if it's easier to discuss my death if they can't see me.

"I'm sorry, but that's the reality, here." Carol's taking a page out of Andrea's book. "Daryl, how many times has that girl thrown up today?"

His hands grip me harder. "'Bout... 'Bout four-five times."

"Right. So, I think it's time we throw the possibility of those scratches bein' nothing out the window." She says, grim.

Glenn rubs at his forehead. "Oh my God."

"W— H-Hold on, now." Dale's stuttering, shaking his head. "We can't just diagnose her from— from one measly symptom."

"This doesn't change anything." Shane suddenly argues.

My Dad starts, "The Hell it don—"

"We're headed to the CDC for a cure." Shane talks over him. "We're headed there, and that's it. It's all we can do."

Dale's just totally appalled. "I think there's a lot more we can do."

"That supply run from a few weeks ago," Glenn's frowning, "I brought back some good stuff. Maybe that can... Stave it off."

It, meaning the germs reaching my brain, once and for all. I recall the posters in my old science classroom, where a person's head would be sliced in half and you could see all the brains on the inside, and I imagine that it's my brain, and that there are millions of little ants chewing away at the edge, and then one of them breaks through, 'cause all it takes is one, and they eat my brain from the inside-out like an old melon, then that's the end — I die.

My Dad can tell what I'm thinking, 'cause he's magic like that, and he silently takes my place in the chair, and sets me in his lap. His arms wrap around my waist, and Jacqui reaches over to put her hand over mine.

You can't stave off turning into a walker. You can try — Like, with cables, and apologies — but really, it doesn't work like that. We're all just meat and bones and guts and skin, and rules like dying apply to us, even if we don't want 'em to. We're all just animals, even if we read poetry.

Shane scrubs his face with his hand, and he looks like he really wants to call Glenn a cuss word. "Glenn—"

"It doesn't work like that, I know." Glenn snaps. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm an idiot? You think I wanna watch a kid die?"

Rick pipes up. "Nobody's sayin—"

"'Nobody's saying that', I know," Glenn argues, "But you're all thinking it. What? You don't even want to try?"

"No. It's a good idea." Rick disagrees. "In fact, I'm all for it. Daryl?"

My Dad's gone quiet. He gives a nod.

"Well, then I don't think it's anyone else's decision to make." Rick concludes. "What do we have?"

"Kaopectate, Ibuprofen. Nausea stuff." Glenn lists, calmer now.

"Still stuck sitting on our asses, though." Morales sighs, holding Eliza, who's not full of germs. "Wasting time we don't have."

"CDC's not going anywhere." Jim shrugs.

Suddenly, Dad's not quiet anymore. "How 'boutchu go ahead and share whatcher fuckin' problem is with the class?"

Jim claims, "Don't got one."

"Nah, matter fact," Dad scowls, "You know what? You said my daughter's life ain't worth a few drops of gas this mornin', if I 'memmer right, so why don't you go ahead and shoot a fuckin' hole in yer head 'fore I get up 'n do it for you? Right here, right now?"

Jim's jaw drops. "Woah—"

"Hey — Let's just get back on track, here." Rick holds up his hands, always the peacemaker. "There's no need for this."

Jacqui whips her hand in the air, squinting. "Hang on. What?"

"Yeah," Dad's getting heated; his voice higher. "This fuckin' string-bean bastard, you know what he said to me this mornin'? He said, 'Let's just think 'bout how much gas this is gonna cost us', with some lil' fuckin' smirk, when we were talkin' about savin' Harley."

Jim bursts, "Oh, that's compl—"

Conversation breaks out, but my Dad's shouting over all of it. "Yeah, man! S'what you said, right to my face!"

"That's—" Lori's gobsmacked. "I don't even know what to say to that, Jim."

"H— H-hang—" Rick's trying desperately to squash all this arguing down, but the shouting and the bodies — standing, now — are drowning him. Underneath me, my Dad's legs are jerking up and down, up and down, like that day in camp, 'cause he wants to get up and beat Jim until he's just a lumpy, red smear in the road. Suddenly, there's half a dozen people out of their chairs, forming one hostile voice. "H— Hang on, a secon—"

"You know what," Shane's booming, "I thought there was something off 'bout the way you said that, Jim."

"Is that true?" Glenn's asking, eyebrows screwed tight. "That's messed up, man."

Morales frowns, "Would you say that about my daughter?"

"Calm down," Dale echoes Rick. "Calm down."

"What, you gonna hit me, now? That's whatcher gon' do?" My Dad goads, grinnin', now. "Really?"

"Calm down," Jacqui says.

"Calm down," Lori says.

"Calm down!" T-Dog says.

"Calm down!!" Rick bellows, furious, absolutely furious, and there's a cracking gunshot — a bang — aimed into the clouds, and then silence.

Absolute, total, complete silence. It's so solid that people are stuck in it. So solid that I can hear the bird on the hood of Dad's truck jumping back and forth on its little talons, twenty feet away. It watches, oblivious, hopping and shuffling, until people start remembering to breathe again.

Even Rick is disturbed, and he's the one that pulled the trigger. "That's enough," He exhales, lowering his revolver.

"That's gonna pull a lot of geeks this way." Glenn whispers.

"Good thing we can leave right now, then." Rick pants, and he's staring down Jim, now. What does he mean? Leave right now? But we're stuck here. He said that. His cheekbone looks like an old plum, from where my Daddy punched him a couple days ago, and his eyes; they're piercing, like sharp, blue shards of glass melting under a blowtorch, and suddenly, he don't look like much of a peacemaker no more. "'Cause, Jim, your seat just became available."

His seat? What's that mean? Is he—?

"You're leaving me here?" Jim cries.

"Next bullet's goin' in your leg." Rick tosses the words at Jim, tired. "You doin' this willingly, or not?"

Jim cries out again, and that's how he goes down — He goes down crying and kicking and screaming, bastards, bastards, bastards, but the words mean nothing, and Dale's tryna stop them but neither him or Jimmy are strong enough to fend off four other grown men. I find myself in Lori's arms, right beside Carl, watching with my heart in my mouth, as Shane, Rick, Morales, and my Dad pin Jim down like he's an angry cat, and beat his fighting hands into a long coil of rope that they twist — God, you don't have to do this, please, you don — it tight, and then they anchor him to a shopping cart bay, and they leave him there, with nothing but a jar of peanut butter, a steak knife, an unloaded gun, and their bitter regards.

Dale's blubbering, speaking up for everyone who won't; can't. "This isn't right—"

But they brush past us, into the cars. Rick grabs Lori. My Dad grabs me. Shane starts unloading his Jeep, 'cause we're leaving that behind, too.

"We're leaving Jim?" I shriek quietly to my Dad, who's ushering me back into the truck.

He yanks my seat-belt down. "Ain't our fault," Click. "Fella deserves it."

"But—"

The door slams shut.

"Please!" Jim cries. I scramble to peer outside, and I see him kicking the air. "Please! I'll die out here!"

"If yer smart, you'll cut yourself out with the knife, and you'll ration the jar." Daddy calls out as he hops in the driver's seat. "But it's like I said." Slam. "Bag'a bricks."

"No, no, no! Please!"

More doors slamming shut; engines roaring to life. Rick shouts out the radio channel, again, as a reminder.

I can still hear Jim screaming when we peel out onto the highway.

"Everything lookin' good up front? Over."

A pause.

"All's good. Over."

I never wanted this.

Outside the windows, the sunset is melting purples and oranges all over each other like hot wax, and the tips of wheat fields are whipping past.

There's a long list of things that have happened the past few weeks that I never wanted.

I never wanted to leave home. Homes aren't meant to be left. That's why we got a word for house and a word for home, 'cause they're different. House is the walls and the bricks and the paint, but home is the twenty-year-old sofa that's in it, and the people that have been on it, and the old pictures stuck on the fridge. It's where I made memories in the day and dreamt about 'em at night. It's where I took my first steps, and it's where I cried, and laughed, and broke my first bone, and got my height scribbled into the doorframe. It's where I miss — deeply, like a wound I can't put a bandage on — every moment of every day. It's where I won't get to grow up. I never wanted to drive for days and go nowhere. I never wanted my Uncle Merle to turn into a star. I never wanted a dead man to scratch my own death into my skin, and there be nothing I could do to stop it besides stave it off. I never wanted to die; not yet, not now, not before I could live.

And parents aren't supposed to live longer than their kids. It's just one of them rules that everybody's born knowing.

I think that's why my Dad is cryin' again; crying, crying, crying, and he just can't stop. My Daddy never cries. Toughest man in camp, I'd say.

The common assessment, now, is that I really am infected. I'm going to die.

I remember my Dad's wallet, with all the photos tucked into the sleeves. I remember all the other photos we lost, or left, or didn't think to capture. I remember my last birthday, which was my seventh. Such a small number. Not even all my fingers. Some people get two number-candles on their cakes before they die. I only got one, but that's okay, 'cause I got other things. I got a day just for me, and I got I love you's, wrapped up in pink and even pinker birthday paper, and I got it all even though my Daddy didn't have much money. I got to live. I don't know how many days are in a year, but I know it's a lot. There's even more in seven years. I got to be alive for every single one of them. Isn't that lucky?

We left Jim to die, and I never wanted that, neither. Nobody deserves to die. I don't.

"Daddy, are you gonna leave me?" I ask. Maybe I won't get shot; I'll get left. I don't know which one I'd choose. I don't wanna choose at all.

"God," My Dad snuffles, smackin' away his tears. "Don't fuckin' ask me that."

"I— It's gonna happen, though." The germs will reach my brain, and that'll be it. "E-everyone thinks so. I'm sick."

"Shut the fuck up, Harley." My Dad whispers, and I wish he was singing again. 

"Dad—"

"Don't."

"Maybe you should— Maybe you shoot me instead."

"This weren't never supposed to fuckin' happen!" He shrieks, suddenly, and punches the horn. "Fuck!"

Then, right on time, the walkie chimes.

"Daryl?"

Do we need to shoot your daughter in the face? Is it over?

With a rage like I ain't never seen before, my Dad steals the walkie off the dash and smashes it into the horn, over and over again, honk, honk, honk, honk, honk, until a piece breaks off, and then another, and another, until the buttons all pop off and the plastic cracks in half, like a broken heart. Then he chucks the whole thing out the window, and it's gone forever, and he sucks in a breath that sounds like a chainsaw tryna start, and he cries.

I feel sick again. My stomach's ballooning up and shrivelling down at the same time, and I'm gonna be sick.

By now, all the cars are pulling over, 'cause my Dad honked the stop, pull over signal ten times over, and then some.

"Daddy, I need to get out—" I'm sayin', gagging.

"Fu— I know. I know." He's sayin' back, and he swerves onto the side of the road, into the wheat.

He leaps out, slams the door shut, and runs around to my side, but by the time he yanks my side open, I've already thrown up all over my feet. I lurch, and then there's more, and my stomach empties again, and there it is — I see the apple, and I see- I see blood, streaked through it, like red-brown poison. I cough more up while my Dad soothes my back and holds my hair out the way.

Then, there's Rick and Dale, standing at either one of my Dad's shoulders.

"Is she okay?" Dale's panting.

"That's it. There you go." Dad beats on my back, and I spit the last of the apple-slime onto the floor. "It's done?"

I murmur a uh-huh, and then I realise what I've done. "I'm sorry."

"Hell you got to be sorry 'bout?" He frowns, still half-crying; still mourning me while I'm still here.

"The— The truck."

"Huh? The tr—?" He huffs, confused, and then shakes his head. "Truck's the last thing I give a damn about."

Rick's tryna put a smile on, but it don't look quite right. "We've got tissues in our car. We can clean it."

I wish they'd all turn away, 'cause it's like I'm naked. My vomit, and the blood, is just sittin' there like a puddle of evidence and dead people germs, for everyone to see. My Dad pulls me out by my wrist, and then we're sitting on the steps of the RV, and he's cradling me, and I'm crying like a baby, and the seven years mean nothin', 'cause I'm zero years old again, like I was in that picture at the hospital, a little pink newborn, so new and alive, and I just need my Momma and my Daddy to kiss it all better again. All I got is my Daddy, now. He's tryin'. But all the kisses in the world won't bring my Momma back. They won't give me another birthday. 

"Sh, sh, sh, baby." He's sniffling into my hair, kissing where it meets my skin. "Shhh. I'm sorry, baby. Stop cryin'. Stop cryin'. Please."

But I can't. Not when I'm dying, and I ain't even lived, yet.

Lori and Rick clean the car out for my Dad, and when I climb back in ten minutes later, it's like it was never there, but we all know it was.

We continue driving into the night.

Carl can balance spoons on his nose.

He can also bend his thumb all the way back, twirl a coin like a spin-top, and cross and uncross his left eye. It's pretty cool. Now I know five things about Carl.

"Check this out." He says.

We're sitting at the RV booth, 'cause I get to sleep in here again, tonight. Morales is driving my Dad's truck for us. It's nearly us kids' bed-time, but Carl's trying all this stuff to make me feel better, and his Momma's lettin' him. My stomach's still whirling around, and my eyelids feel bloated, but it's working. I'm not crying anymore, not so much.

"How do you do that?" I giggle, sniffing. He passes me the spoon, and I try copying him.

I wish we had actual toys to play with, but we just gotta make do with what we got.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I just kinda do it."

Lori's chuckling to herself in the passenger seat, next to Dale.

I drop the spoon. This is hard.

"Show me again," Demands little Eliza, who looks far too grumpy for someone so small. "Show me how it works."

Carl's like Glenn — He's a good sport — So, he tilts her head and moves her spoon around until it stays, and she's giggling, too.

"Wanna see what else I can do?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

There's more? Just how cool is Carl?

He takes Sophia's spoon, and he takes my spoon, and then he grips them both so they're cupping each other. He shakes them. Cluh-clink, cluh-clink, cluh-clink. Music!

"I need a piece of wheat to chew on or something." He smiles, pulling an uh-huh, look how awesome I am, face. "Cowboys used to play the spoons, right?"

I grin. "You should have a cowboy hat, like your Dad's. Then you'll be a real cowboy."

"And a horse!" Sophia adds.

"And a gun!" Louis snarls, excited.

Lori gives us a sassily raised eyebrow. "Uh. I don't think so."

It's so silly that we all start laughing together. Carl, the spoon-clinkin' cowboy of the West.

"Oh, and did you know—?" Carl's got another trick. He presents the spoon to me, backwards.

My upside-down reflection stares back at me. For a second, I'm curious, but the feeling quickly fizzles away. Is that really what I look like? The little girl in the spoon got blonde hair that's all spillin' out of a rushed pony-tail in shoulder-length strips, and choppy bangs, and heavy brown eyebrows at the bottom of her face. She got one little black mole dotted onto her cheekbone, a fairy kiss, like Momma called 'em, and another one under her nose. She got purple-ish craters above her lids. She got red cheeks. She got a pair of green eyes, blinking at me from her upside-down prison inside the spoon. She's me, but inverted; wrong. I don't like this trick.

The girl in the spoon is frowning.

"What is it?" Carl asks. He pulls the spoon away and inspects it. "It didn't work?"

"N— No." I quickly tell him. "It worked."

"Then, what's wrong?" He asks, but not in the way adults do. There are no layers to anythin' he says, 'cause he ain't learnt to add 'em, yet.

I think of the spoon-girl, and I compare her to my school photo — The right way up; healthy, a neat ponytail.

"I just look so different," I shrug, 'cause I ain't learnt neither.

Sophia looks like a little dolly when she pouts. "Yeah..."

"What's it feel like?" Eliza asks.

She leans forward, 'cause she wants to hear a secret. Am I allowed to tell her one?

Everyone at this table's seen somebody turn before. Sophia saw her Dad turn. Eliza and Louis saw their Aunt and Uncle turn. Carl was there when Amy... I saw a hitch-hiker turn, once. There's not really an exact moment where someone changes. There's no switch. There's only a slow decline, and then a last breath. Then somebody else wakes up, in your body. This is what I say to the other kids. I think they're picturing each step happening to me as I describe them.

Louis goes, "Woah..."

Then, Eliza asks the un-askable. "Harley, you should show us what's under the bandage."

We all look at her. A proposition. We're all thinking, is she crazy, but then I say the un-sayable, 'cause lookin' won't hurt.

"Alright," I murmur, glancing at Lori and Dale. Their backs are turned. "I'll just lift the corner, okay?"

They all nod and lean even closer.

I pick at the edge of the seal, and it burns, just a little, and nope, the adults are still not looking, so I keep peeling and peeling until there's a little hole. We all contort ourselves to peer inside, and I keep going and going, and it's halfway off, now. It's like I'm opening a little door into a different dimension. I'm expecting melting, pizza-cheese skin, and maybe some gross, alien fungus carpeting a layer of yellow ooze, and blood bubbling up under my muscles, and we can almost see the scratches, now, and I wonder if—

"Hey." I whip my head around — we all do, like meerkats — and it's not Lori, or Dale. It's my Dad, coming in through the bedroom door. He's too tired to be proper angry, so he just sighs. "What the Hell do you think you're doin'?"

"Sorry—"

Wordlessly, he comes up to me and sticks the patch back down.

"What's going on back there?" Lori asks. "You guys behaving?"

"Takin' her bandage off." Dad snitches on me.

He kisses me quickly on the hair to balance out the scolding. He's never done that before. Then he pulls a box of pills off the kitchen shelf.

"Time for yer second one of these."

Lori gets up to pour me a cup of water, and Dad pinches my nose, and I swallow the pill in one gulp.

This is what some people would call a last ditch attempt — Racing to the CDC, filling my stomach with Glenn's medicine, and not being allowed to fiddle with the bandage, to stave it off. Rules are just words, but I'm supposed follow 'em, anyway. That's why I say I'm sorry again, but Dad don't like that, either. He says it's bed-time.

"Say goodnight to everyone," He tells me, 'cause he likes when I have good manners.

He grabs my pyjamas off the back of the driver's seat, where Dale's trying not to fall asleep on his face. I say goodnight to the other kids, and Lori, who gives me a hug. Dale calls out a goodnight, too, and he reaches over to ruffle my hair, like a grandpa. Then my Dad tugs me back into the bedroom we spent the last night in. The kids mumble goodnight to me again as I'm dragged away, but they feel a little too much like goodbye.

I hope Carl knows he made me feel better, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Apparently, we're on the outskirts of Atlanta now. When I peek outside, I see skyscrapers.

"We're gonna make it, right? To the CDC?"

I won't run outta time?

Dad freezes for a second.

"I'll drag you all the way there myself if I gotta." Dad says, and I know he's dead serious. Outta Hell on hot coals.

We're not stopping for the night. We can't. The engine's rumbling below me when I hop onto the bed.

My Dad grabs my hair-brush from our back pack on the floor, and he settles himself behind me on the covers to do my hair. My Daddy's a Dixon, and that doesn't just mean that he looks out for me and hates when people see him cry. It means that instead of saying I love you, he'll show me I love you. This is what he's doin' right now, by carefully running the brush through my messy hair, petting my baby-hairs into place, and threading his fingers through it all from scalp to end. He's done my hair so many times that I couldn't count, even if I used all my fingers and all my toes. He'd brush it while I sat in the bath when I was littler, and when he was gettin' me ready for school. He ain't that good at it, 'cause his hands are made for tools and guns instead of little-girl-hair, but that don't matter. The I love you matters more.

After that, he helps me into my pyjamas even though I don't need any help at all, and I realize that he's got that same intense look on his face that he did on that night in the quarry. It's not so much flaming, anymore. It more of a sinking, heavy look. I study it as he wraps me up in my button-up dinosaur pyjama shirt. Does he think this is the last time he'll put me to bed? 

"Can you sing for me tonight, Daddy?" I ask, suddenly. If he gets to brush my hair and do my buttons, then I want to hear him sing.

He was just about to do up the last button. He hesitates.

"Yeah." He says. Then, he pinches my cheek, and he finishes looping the button. "I'll sing, little chicken. Lay down."

I burry myself in the thick covers. My Dad sets down his crossbow on the side-table, and shirks off his red flannel shirt, leaving him in a white tank-top. It's warm enough in here that he can do that, and I wish it was his lamb-skull tank-top, the one with all the crumbs, and I wish I still had my Raggedy Anne doll, which Uncle Merle found on the side of the road but I loved with all my heart, anyway, and I wish we were home. He kicks off his mud-caked boots. That's the last step. This is it.

Dad clicks off the lamp.

The room turns dark, and he rolls onto his side, facing me, but on top of the covers. I reach out and touch his mole, 'cause it matches mine. Lots of him matches me. His blonde-ish hair, his thin mouth. If time let me, I might've looked a little like him when I grew older. Then, I touch my name, permanently marked into his skin. Another I love you, shown and not spoken. I wonder if this will be all that's left of me if I don't wake up. He watches me, and I must be pretty interesting, 'cause he does it for a while. It's like when he was staring at my baby picture. He cups his giant hand over the side of my head, and I can feel his thumb wagging back and forth. Then, he starts whisper-singing, and I close my eyes and I imagine home. Home, where I belong. Home, where everyone I love, plus me, are all still alive.

I dream of a tyre swing and baby lambs.

I hear retching outside.

It's so dark I can't even tell if my eyes are closed or not, and my Daddy's already half-way on his feet, but it's not me, this time. I was sleepin', just a second ago. He notices, and then he's just confused. Who's throwing up? The lamp clicks on, and ugh, that's real bright. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Dad's pulling his flannel back over his tank-top. He tells me to stay here, baby, and he grabs his crossbow and hurries outside. I crawl to the window.

We're pulled over in an emergency lane. The headlights are beaming a spotlight onto all the commotion.

It's Carl, hunched. He's throwing up over the guard rail, and Lori's crouched next to him.

Why's he throwing up?

My Dad pokes his head back in, hand outstretched, and he says I'm allowed to follow him outside, so I pad alongside him into the night. We reach the small crowd that's gathered around Carl, and I grab onto one of my Dad's belt loops and hide behind him, 'cause I'm scared. There's this terrible moment where I think that Carl is also bitten, or scratched, somehow, but Rick rips Carl's shirt off and rolls up his shorts, and nope, he's totally clean. Lori feels his forehead. It must be hot and wet, 'cause she frowns, but mostly, they're all just really, really confused. Weird, weird, weird.

"What's goin' on?" T-Dog asks, jogging over from one of the cars.

Dale answers, tense. "We're not sure, yet."

Rick searches for me and my Dad amongst the others. "Daryl, bring Harley over here."

We squeeze past some people and into the light. Dad stands me right next to Carl, and now I'm gettin' spun and poked and peered at.

First, me and Carl's skin is the same blotchy white. Weird. Then, our eyes are the same red. Weirder. We've both thrown up. Doesn't make sense.

"They have the same symptoms?" Jacqui asks.

How could we be the same typ'a sick, if he ain't even infected?

"How could this happen?" Glenn's asking for everyone.

"It can't be anything contagious, right?" Dale guesses. "Otherwise, we'd all have it."

Nobody knows what to do or say, 'cause this is the biggest, weirdest mystery in the world. Rick looks back and forth between Carl and me. Lori does, too. My Dad's got a frown on. But then my Daddy's eyes shift off my face and down to my arm, and he gets an idea and it's a weird one, 'cause he pinches the edge of my bandage, and I flinch, and then all in one go — ouch — he rips it off, just like he told me never, ever to do, and it lands on the road, and there's my arm.  The cars fill the silence with hums. Am I dreamin'? Am I really still in the RV, sound asleep? My arm— It's not fuzzy or melting or oozing. It's—

"It's healed?" Rick shakes his head, eyes wide, and he grabs my arm like my Dad, to bring it close to his face.

I can't believe it. My arm — It's healthily scabbed over, with not one skin cell outta place.

I gasp, "Daddy, my arm."

"Am I seein' this right?" Dad asks Rick and Lori, suddenly breathin' as if he's been running.

"It— It looks completely healed." Lori breathes.

Several people come forward to take a look at me. Nobody's quite believing it. I'm not—? I'm not dyin'? Is that what this means?

"Have either of you kids eaten the same thing these past few days?" Asks Shane.

It's a weird question, but I have to answer, so I think really hard and so does Carl. The fish fry? The peaches? The—?

"The jerky!" We both shout.

"The—?"

"Who made the jerky?" Dad's lookin' through the crowd; desperate, not breathing, not yet. "Who was it?"

"It was m— I made it." Glenn confesses, but he doesn't know what it is he's confessing to.

"How'd you make it?" Dad asks, and he's pointing, now. So many strange questions, tonight. "Tell me exactly how you made it."

Glenn stammers, and we all listen to him list his jerky recipe like it's the most important thing in the world. "W—Well, I guess I took that meat you bought back — The possum? — And I don't kno— I sliced it, and then I—" Dad barks at him to tell us the exact thickness of the cut. "I guess, like an inch. Then I smoked it, I guess, on a stick over the campfire. I don't know, man. I—"

"You ain't salted it? You ain't cut the fat off?"

Glenn's lost. "No. No, I guess not."

My Daddy, then, drops onto his butt on the tarmac and he does the most confusing thing. He huffs out a big lungful of air, like he's boutta cry, but he doesn't cry. He starts laughing. He starts laughing, hard, like it's all a giant, funny joke that no one has gotten until now. Rick stands and starts laughing too, but his eyes have gone wet, too, and slowly, surely, everyone else starts sighing and laughing and clapping. Even Andrea's smiling! I'm smiling too, because I feel like I'm allowed — Like there ain't some catch. The jerky. Glenn made botched jerky. All those times my stomach was clenching like a sore fist — I weren't dying. All those times I was hurtin', back at the quarry — It weren't nerves. It was the jerky, messin' up my insides, 'cause it weren't made right. Jacqui runs for the food supply and she comes back with a zip-lock bag full of Glenn's jerky, and—

"God!" Everyone cringes all at once.

It's absolutely covered in mold. It's the worst-cured jerky in the entire world.

"Daddy—?"

"It was the fucking jerky?" Glenn's never looked so happy to be an idiot. "It was the jerky?"

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." My Daddy grabs both my cheeks. "You're fine. You got food poisonin', baby."

"I'm not dyin'?" I ask, just so I can hear him say no again, and then I ask it three more times, just to be sure. My Dad kisses my forehead, and then I'm in a big, strong, hug, and I'm alive. I'm alive again! And I can feel my heart-beat in my chest, and I can breathe, and I can do whatever I want, 'cause I'm alive. All that pacing and worrying and breaking of hearts and grave-digging of old memories, just for it to be Glenn's fatty, unsalted jerky. He's coming closer, now, and my Dad pulls away from me just enough to let Glenn give me a little hug.

He almost killed me. I think that makes us friends, now.

"Hoo! Praise Jesus!" T-Dog hoots, and Carol thinks he's bein' silly, 'cause she slaps his shoulder.

"I'm not dyin'." I laugh.

It's like we've won the lottery. All one camp, all happy, together. Rick grabs my Dad's arm and gives him a nod, a nod that says, It's over now, and my Dad nods back. I think to myself, randomly, that this is what family looks like. None of us were born together, and we ain't even know each other before, but we're all cryin' and laughin' together, and we chose each other. We chose to be scared together, and now we get to be happy, together.

"Man, we gotta keep you away from the food for a while!" Shane's teasing Glenn. "I mean, whoo!"

"I love you, Daddy," I'm suddenly admitting to my Dad, under all the happy shouts, while he stares up at me in the light of the truck.

He says somethin' he ain't said in years. "I love you too, Harley."

I get another kiss on the head, and another hug, and maybe, I'm thinking, this could be home. I might get to grow up here, instead.

I'm alive.

"Somebody throw that damn bio-hazard jerky in the trash!"

Author's Note. Hehehe, that last scene. So much fun to write. Stupid Glenn.

There's actually quite a few lines of foreshadowing in all the chapters leading up to this one. We all knew that Harley was probably going to be fine, but I tried using the food poisoning to keep everybody on their toes. Drama. Gotta have it, hehe.

I really hope you enjoyed reading. Thank you for being here! :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daddy issues #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #angst #reader

[roetrolls]

Green Light

It is, once again, far too late for you to be awake right now. Unfortunately for you, your whirring brain didn’t seem to get the memo.

Resigned to another sleepless morning, you sit down at your desk and pull one knee up to your chin, squinting in the harsh light of your laptop screen. Grumley hops onto the table and settles into a loaf beside your keyboard, purring when you move to scratch him between the ears.

“I know Grums,” you coo, lifting his face to give him a kiss on the head. “You’re lonely, huh?”

He closes his eyes, relaxing into your touch.

“Missing your bestie… You’ve got bad taste, stinker.”

A soft mrrp invites you to keep talking. 

“You only like him ‘cause he reminds you of a laser pointer, that’s what I think.”

Outside, a car revs by on the empty street below, probably the only one you’ll hear at this hour. The world feels impossibly still. With a sigh, you click into your inbox and absently check for new messages, your monologue to the cat quickly transforming into a soliloquy. 

“You know what’s fucked, Grummy? I’ve got bad taste too. I think he’s nice.” You set your temple on your knee, dislodging your glasses slightly, and open your last email exchange with Kivolo.

Even here, your prose is excellent. ☺

You stare at his compliment for a few seconds, then push your glasses up to rub at your eyelids. It’s infuriating how little he infuriates you. A few months ago, you thought he was a douchebag. But now? You think he’s just weird. 

Good-natured and weird.

“I have every right to hate him!” you exclaim to the air. “Any normal person would think he’s a creep! And I’m lying awake at day trying to come up with reasons to feel wronged.”

Rolling yourself away from the desk, you get up and begin to pace, listing infractions on your hand while Grumley squints at you from his perch.

“He got me reassigned to his ship like three times,” you start, tapping one pointer finger against the other. “But what did he do with that? Nothing! It just… Made me look good to my superiors! It got me a raise!”

You throw your hands up briefly, exasperated, before returning to your mental list.

“He spent the entirety of the Yule Ball glued to my hip, and it was the most painless event I’ve ever attended!”

Grumley meows.

“Yes, thank you, Grummy, excellent point. Glad we’re on the same page.” You give the cat a curt nod before resuming. “He knew what floor I lived on, and it was fucking creepy. He admitted to coming here! And it’s fucking ridiculous because he said he wouldn’t do it again and I believe it!”

That was a big one. Finding where you live and scoping it out in secret? Red flag! Literal walking, talking, glowing red flag!

But he told you it was an isolated incident, to check how secure your apartment was. He acknowledged that that didn’t make it right, he apologized, and promised not to come back, and damn it all, you truly believe that he meant it.

At every turn, he has proven himself a baseline decent guy, valuing your autonomy and heeding your concerns. He’s been intense, sure, but not once has he crossed a boundary once you’ve established it.

He makes you feel respected, and that fact is baffling.

With a groan, you flop back into your seat and start drafting a new email, pulling Grumley into your lap as you type with one hand.

Think I should invest in a red lamp. This cat cannot get over you.

#julika ic #writing #breezeblocks #y'all know im impatient #julika writing

[siriannatan]

More Than Just Tech Guy

I had Convex on my brain last night and so I wrote a one-shot about them this morning.

AO3 link for anyone who prefers reading there.

Cub was, in his opinion, reasonably angry with Scar. The damned superhero goes and gets himself hurt and damages Cub's inventions every day and the... And then has the audacity to come and cry to him when his nemesis, an actual villain, says he's got a date. And then, even more crazy, tries to flirt with Cub. When Cub has been trying to, very subtly because he has class, flirting with him since they started working together. Way before this Cute Guy was around.

And because of this very reasonable anger, he was maybe a bit distracted and didn't notice a villain sneak up and knock him out. And so, Cub was now listening to Cute Guy argue with some other, bee-themed, villain about what to do with Cub. 

"He's with Hot Guy... Do you have a death wish? That guy is a menace when not provoked!" Cute Guy yelled walking in circles. 

"Don't matter, it's not like I hurt him or anything," Bee-guy shrugged hopping on a box. "All I want is to talk to him... 

"If anything you being here might make it all difficult," another young villain walked in. Dressed in a suit, with his face covered by a mask.

Cub didn't really pay much attention to them after that. It would not be the first time he was grabbed to bait Scar out. And he could get out whenever he wanted to... He just needed his head to stop hurting and the Cute Guy to leave. He'd instantly recognise what Cub did and quickly found him... Or he could wait for Hot Guy to come in and sweep him off his feet... Yeah, right. The moment he saw Cute Guy he'd forget Cub was there. Like whenever Cub yelled at him through his earpiece, trying to get him to not get too hurt... 

Just a little bit and he'd be back in his lab, and no one would know he was ever kidnapped...   Or Scar would drop in, land right next to where Cub sat, with his hands tied and... glare at the three villains. "I'm a bit angry so I suggest you three just leave," Scar warned, aiming his bow at the biggest threat - Cute Guy, and if Cub was looking right he was aiming right at his head. He rarely did that even to the biggest villains in town.

Cub could let Scar get in a fight at a disadvantage, or... Who was he kidding, he was not about to watch Scar fight up close so he quickly freed his hands. Stood up and, before anyone could do anything, used his powers to teleport Scar and himself as far as he could. About three blocks away. Halfway to Hot Guy Tower - or Scarland as Scar called it. 

"Wha..." Scar blinked looking about. One moment he was having a stand-off with Cute Guy and some rookie villains, shielding Cub from them and being very cool and the next he was staring at his tower. Sound of someone hitting the concrete of a roof he was on prompted him to turn around. And got him even more worried. 

Behind him lay an unconscious Cub Fan. Long braid messy, and a bit of dirt and dust on his lab coat. Glasses missing. Unconscious, breathing uneven... And he had a pair of little vex wings matching ones that indicated Scar's own powers. Did Cub Vex-Blink them about three blocks away? That must have been exhausting... Scratch that. Cub was hiding highly unstable vex-based superpowers... And who knows how dealing with the excess energy they provided? Scar used it to fight villains. Cub barely ever left his lab. It was no wonder he was passed out. 

Still worried even after deciphering what happened to make Cub lose consciousness, they were still not out of the woods. It was a matter of time before they were found so he picked Cub up and blinked them, careful to not drop his friend towards the tower and into the lab. He did not worry any less with Cub lied out on a bed Scar usually sat on as Cub fixed his prosthetics. He doubted he'd calm down until Cub was awake and could confirm he was okay.

He didn't put his bow away as he ran to the kitchen to grab a couple of water bottles and granola bars. Cub would probably be thirsty and hungry when he woke up. 

When he woke up Cub was awake, unsteadily sat on the bed, undoing his braid. Muttering something to himself.

"Cub!? You okay?" Scar fretted, finally dropping his bow he ran up to the bed. Throwing the food and water next to Cub.

"I'll be fine with some rest... You didn't have to come for me. I was fine. Can you grab me a pair of glasses? Top drawer in the desk," Cub sighed, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar. Ignoring Scar's worried attempts at checking him for any wounds or other problems. 

"I was super worried when you weren't here..." Scar admitted but followed Cub's request. "And then I saw you tied up and... I was never that... It wasn't the first time was it?" he sighed blinking at a drawer full of identical pairs of tin wire glasses he associated with Cub. It was so Cub to have so many backup pairs. "I found your glasses by a store and... thought the worst..."

"It wasn't the first, and probably won't be the last time," Cub shrugged and Scar shuffled back with a pair of glasses in hand. "I was perfectly fine the whole time," he added putting the glasses on.

"Doesn't mean I wasn't worried. You're my best friend and... You never told me you have powers..." Scar rambled, falling to his knees, no longer having the strength to stay up. "You can't just suppress and hide it all the time..."

"I have a system, and it's nothing that special, unlike yours... And stand up, I'll be angry if you scratch these," Cub huffed, leaning his full weight on the wall behind the bed. "And the fewer people know I'm more than just a tech guy the better," he added. Scar wasn't at all any less worried for him.

Scar sighed, resting his head on Cub's thighs. "I thought about what you said... when we argued and... I think I li..."

"Don't," Cub stopped him, lightly smacking his head. "I'm not going to be your second choice. Sorry Scar, but... I'm tired of trying. I tried to show you I care for a long time and it all went over your head," Cub sighed, staring at the clean, white ceiling. 

"Can I at least say it? I don't expect you to take it seriously or... forgive me so soon... But I really do love you. I thought I only saw you as a friend but today... today I realised I wouldn't be this worried if any other of my friends got kidnapped by villains... I was ready to break all the rules just to get you back..." Scar said, looking right into Cub's eyes. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realise it..."

Cub stared at Scar with a mysterious expression and just as he was about to reply there was a knock on the door and Scar had to scramble to his feet and to pick up his bow. Cub didn't bother moving. He was in his lab and was just kidnapped by villains. He had all the right to rest.

"The media are going to have a field day tomorrow," mayor Lizzie yelled as soon as he walked in. The internet is full of photos of you," she pointed to a sheepish Scar, standing awkwardly with his bow. "With you," she pointed to Cub. Stopping for a second noticing the still present wings. "In your," she was back to berating Scar. "Arms. Care to explain?"

"Some new villain, obsessed with Hot Guy, kidnapped me outside a grocery store, and he saved me," Cub explained while opening another granola bar with Hot Guy's face on the wrapper. "And, yeah, I have powers but they're nothing like his,"  he added before taking the first bite. Why must all the snacks in the tower have Scar's superhero persona all over them? Are normal multi-grain chips that much to ask for? Apparently. 

"Okay..." the mayor nodded, looking between the two. "But how do we deal with the inevitable 'Hot Guy has a boyfriend?' headlines that will pop all over tomorrow?"

Cub stayed silent and just looked at Scar. He himself was too tired to deal with it.

"I'm sure they'll get bored quickly if we say nothing? Why comment on rumours?" Scar offered with a shrug, glancing at Cub as he spoke.

"Cub? It has to do with you too," Lizzie asked the technician after a long sight. It was shaping to be a bigger problem than Stratos saving her that one time.

"How detailed are these photos? And why not just debunk it as him doing his job? Heroes are supposed to save people..."

"Yes. But there was no big incident, and if we say Hot Guy's tech guy was kidnapped... we'll be laughing stock. A hero who can't keep his staff safe..." Liz shook her head. "Okay... we'll ignore it for a now, say heroes' private things are just that and move on and see where that lands up," she sighed shaking her head and left them with a perfect photo of Scar carrying unconscious Cub.

Cub didn't really care all that much and just finished his food while instructing Scar how to pull up all the rumours. The internet loved the idea of Hot Guy having a boyfriend. And speculating who said boyfriend was. A lot of them guessed Cub was working with Hot Guy. 'He can't be strong, hot and smart all at once, of course, he has a pretty tech guy,' some posts said. Others focused on Cub's wings. 'Their powers match, how cute,' they said, focusing on a small, dull blue wing, conveniently next to where Scar's hands were holding Cub.

"That's a lot of posts in a short time..." Scar noticed, scrolling through already-appearing fan art. "I can talk to Liz, organise some explanation if it's too much..." he offered, now that he saw how widespread it was it seemed a bit daunting even to him.

"Nah, it's fine, let the internet have their fun," Cub shrugged. He only regretted he could not see Cute Guy's face right now. He must have been livid, with how much he usually flirted with Scar just to get a reaction from the hero and the public. And maybe Cub like the idea of people knowing Scar was not available... "I might be willing to forgive you..." he started, raising one hand as Scar spun to look at him with a shocked face. "But you'll have to work hard for it, no more being reckless," he added, dampening Scar's mood a bit. "I'll sleep now,' he decided, not wanting to deal with Scar anymore tonight.

"Can I stay and make sure no one tries to kidnap you again?" Scar asked with the saddest puppy face Cub ever saw him pull off.

"Fine..." Cub sighed. Secretly glad Scar was that worried about him. Not that anyone could break into the Tower. Cub made the security systems personally. And they maybe included a secret part of his power he didn't really plan to tell Scar about just yet...

#my stuff #my stories #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #convex #hero au #Hot Guy

[bougiebutchbitch]

PASM story question: we obviously get the supreme moment of Kakashi realizing his crush in chp 2, when did Gai figure out his crush?

Oooooh, good question! I think the roots have been there for a very long time - I very much interpret Gai as seeing Kakashi as his childhood sweetheart! But at what point did Gai realise just what he was feeling?

I think it was the first time he won against Kakashi. The first time he truly believed that he would one day stand beside him as an equal.

Gai always promised that he would be a great ninja. He works towards that end goal, every single day. And he does believe it! He does! It's just - Kakashi's so far ahead. Everyone says there's no point trying.

Yet here they are in Training Ground 3, where they've spent every afternoon this week.

Gai: panting, fists clenched, sweat clumping his fringe.

Kakashi: on his back in the dirt, looking a little offended about it.

They were working with Taijutsu only, on Kakashi's insistence. Gai knows this isn't a real victory. Kakashi is just being kind, by giving him a chance. But even with that handicap, Gai has lost every single time before.

Not today, though.

Kakashi recovers quickly. He hops up to his feet, squaring up, eyes narrow and cold.

"Again," he says.

Gai has won before, but only in non-combat challenges. Who can eat the most dango. Who can write mission reports fastest. Jan Ken Pon. Kakashi usually just shrugs like he couldn't care less and walks away. This time, it seems he wants a rematch.

This is new, this is special. Gai nods, his grin bright as the splash of blood on his bust lip.

"Yosh! I will give you a chance to even the score!"

Sure enough, Kakashi evens it, with interest. Gai peels himself out of the tree he was kicked into, wheezing hard. Pain throbs out from the impact point, where the sole of Kakashi's sandal met his sternum with as much force as the average chidori.

Gai loves it. His grin is brighter and bloodier than ever.

He raises his fists, and his eyebrows. "Again?"

Kakashi sighs, hands in his pockets - that's his rival; always the epitome of cool! "You don't know when to quit, do you."

"Indeed, never giving up is my Nindo! And - look, I beat you, once! I'm improving."

"Lucky fluke," says Kakashi.

That stings. Gai lets it. Swallows it down, squashes that snide jab down into his belly, along with all the rest. Subjects it to immense heat and pressure until it turns to diamond.

"Ha! You wish, rival! Let me prove otherwise!"

Kakashi blinks at him, and though his eyes are still lazy half-moons, Gai gets the sense he's being studied with as much intensity as Kakashi usually gives those awful books he carries around. "Sure," he says. "Whatever."

It's a draw. Almost. Gai holds out as long as he can, but when his vision goes grainy and gray at the edges, he slaps three times at the arm locked around his throat. Kakashi lets up immediately - to which Gai ceases his attempt to reverse the wrestling hold, and flops out starfished on the ground.

"You win," he croaks, and he can't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Good match, rival."

There's silence for a few seconds. Kakashi moves back, just far enough to put an inch of space between them, but not so far that Gai can't hear the faint rasps of his breath. Elevated. That's something. At least he's improved enough that he makes Kakashi work up a sweat.

Gai expects him to leave without another word. Yet he lingers, his shadow falling over Gai, his face unreadable in a way Gai can't blame on that ever-present mask. Gai eases gingerly to sit.

"I guess you were right," he offers, as Kakashi seems disinclined to conversation. "It was just lucky fluke this time - "

"No."

"But I will make it my mission to ensure that the next time I defeat you in battle, it is on the merit of my own skill, and - " Gai's mouth catches up with his brain. "Um. No?"

"No," Kakashi repeats. Now he pushes to stand, glaring out away from Gai. Speaking less to him, more to the cliffs of Konoha that eclipse the distant, wooded horizion. "It wasn't a fluke. You're better than you used to be."

Anyone else, Gai might presume they were lying to spare his pride. But Kakashi doesn't do that. Which means...

"You mean that? Rival?"

Kakashi turns his back on him fully. "Well, you couldn't exactly get worse."

Gai laughs. He's not wrong.

He still thinks of that day often - one of their earliest encounters, when Kakashi saved him from the chuunin who'd been punching him because they were scared, for all their cruel words, to punch his father. When Gai hadn't bothered to fight back.

He fights back now. Every day of his life. It's his Nindo, his drive, his determination - but here, looking up at Kakashi, silhouetted against the evening sun, he realises just how much his rival has helped to forge that Will of Fire in his chest.

Kakashi makes him better. He makes him want to be stronger, faster, more. Gai can't imagine life without him. Even as their classmates fell around them in the war, even when Kakashi lost everything - then lost it again, then again, then again - Gai couldn't comprehend the thought that Kakashi might one day be gone, too.

He wants to do this forever. He wants to be by Kakashi's side for forever. He's been saying as much since they were children.

But now, for the very first time, he looks at Kakashi's tense back and thinks about how much he'd like to run his hand down it, rather than driving his fist into his kidneys. What must it be like, to feel that tightness melt away? To feel all of Kakashi, hard and cold as his kunai, soften under his hands?

And - oh. Is this what papa told him about?

When you find your special people, you will know. You will know that you will do anything to protect them. They will make you stronger, because of your love.

Right now, Gai feels stronger than ever.

"I'll improve," he tells Kakashi, striving to sound mature and sincere, rather than giddy as the bubbles gathering inside his chest. Kakashi dislikes any overt displays of affection; Gai can't do as his heart demands, and shout from the rooftops of Konoha that for the first time in his life, he's in love. He'll save all revelations on that topic for tonight, when he visits his father's grave. To Kakashi, he just says - "I promise. You're my eternal rival, after all."

Kakashi gives him the tiniest grunt of affirmation and body-flickers away. Leaving Gai to flop back dreamily on the pulverised dirt of Training Ground 3, dry blood crusting his nostrils, and sigh.

This is a flash fic & entirely unedited, etc. dsfklghsdghskjdg

Plz excuse any errors T^T

#kakagai #gaikaka #my fic #bbb creates

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Five: Rockstar! e.m x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

A/N: I'm baaaaaaack. I'm feeling so much better. My son is getting better, and he's still his same goofy one year old self. This ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but the final part will be Part Six! I think you're going to like how I end it. My next series is still brewing in my nogging right now, and I have a few one shot ideas. ALSO, the next series will be a surprise release. What's the theme? You may wonder. Well...I don't know yet! Lmao. I'm just gonna go with the flow, and let my fingers do the talking. (That sounds a little dirty, right? Meh. The dirtier the better!) The series might be based off of a sequence of dreams I have been having of our precious Eddie Munson/Joseph Quinn. I just have to figure out what the fuck they mean. Anyways, I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I also didn't proof read this, again, I let my fingers do the talking. ;)

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 7.4k

Seven months ago… It was a busy day at the hospital; it was so short staffed they had to call you down from oncology to fill in in the ICU. You were straddling a young man on a gurney who had come in with an overdose, doing chest compressions as they wheeled him into the room. He wasn’t responsive, he still had a pulse, but there was no reaction to his pupils or muscle movement. You knew he was likely brain dead; he had been unconscious for twenty minutes before he was found. It didn’t take much time for your brain to die out when there wasn’t any oxygen. You hopped off his gurney, another nurse took over with compressions because you were getting tired; the doctor on call had given him more Narcan, but then he started to code. They attempted to shock his heart two times before they called it. He was only twenty, another young life lost. 

You had gone outside for a break; you barely smoked cigarettes anymore but today was one of those days where you were really craving the nicotine. It was a warm day, summer was around the corner, but you could never shake the chills you had when a patient dies. You only had an hour left of your shift, and then you could go home, shower off the day, and then enjoy your next two days off.  You were playing a puzzle game on your phone when an unknown number shows up on your screen. You answer, the man on the other end asks if it was you, you say it was, and you’re not sure if you should hang up, or keep listening. 

“My name is Ted Callahan, I’m a longtime friend of the band Corroded Coffin, and their manager.” 

Your breath hitches for a moment, you scratch your head, confused on what was happening. “Uh…I don’t—”

Corroded Coffin. You have known that name longer than the world has, more than half your life. 

“Listen, I know this is out of the blue, but I’m kind of at a loss right now. I’m calling because, Eddie is…he’s going through some stuff right now. He’s been mentioning you a lot lately, and I never even knew you existed until a few weeks ago, but…just hearing him talk about you, and your history, even though I don’t know much. I was wondering if you could help.” He sounds kind, you say to yourself, also exhausted. You never thought you would hear his name again, or even think he'd ever want to associate himself with you again. 

“Me?” You say, almost laughing. “I don’t…I haven’t spoken to Eddie in…God, going on fifteen years now. We didn’t…we didn’t end on good terms, I’m surprised he even remembers me, I…” I think about him every day still. 

“He said you were his first and only love…listen, honey. I’m gonna give it to you straight here. He almost died a few weeks ago, well, not almost, he did...for probably about five minutes. He overdosed on heroin and now he is in rehab after a legal issue in New York City with a few officers and the paramedics that revived him. I know it’s not your responsibility to save him, but I thought maybe you could reach out to him somehow…a phone call, letter. I don’t know what you kids do these days.” 

“He almost died?” You almost whisper it; your breath is caught in your throat and your stomach turns sour. 

“I’m not gonna make you do something you don’t want to do, honey. I don’t know exactly what happened with you two, but…there’s a spark that lights up in his eyes when he talks about you that I haven’t seen in a long time. You must have been really special to him.” He tells you softly. 

“I don’t know about that.” You whisper. If I was so special, why did he leave? 

“Will you at least save my number? Just let me know what you decide. Again, I’m sorry to dump this all on you. I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think it was gonna make an impact on him…because I think if this rehab and sobriety thing doesn’t work, I’m afraid he’ll be dead in a year.” 

You rub your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’ll…I’ll think about it. I’ll save your number.”

“Thank you…you have a very kind voice.” He says and you mutter a thanks, you too, and awkwardly hang up the phone. You’re not entirely sure what to think, you just knew you had to get back to work and you would deal with this later. 

You tried not to think about him on the drive home; it was hard not to. Most days you went without thinking about him even though he was so very present on your heart. You’ve dated other people off and on for years, but nothing ever stuck. They were good men, but they were lacking something you quite couldn’t put your finger on. They weren’t him. You rolls your eyes at yourself, you hated how pathetic you felt when you thought about him. He was this famous rockstar, making millions, selling out stadiums and releasing records and most likely fucking every single woman that met him, but you still loved him. You still loved him after everything he put you through, you still loved him even though it had been fifteen years. It broke your heart hearing that he was using heroin, that it had gotten so bad he is now in a rehab. You weren’t sure how helpful you would be to reach out to him, or if he would even respond. You were still shocked when Ted told you he kept talking about you. It took everything in your power not to call him back and tell him to never contact you again because that part of your life was over. 

Or was it?

You thought it was over. Fifteen years ago, it was. When he had ripped out your heart and stomped on it. When he had left you standing in the middle of the street, on a cold night in Hawkins, as you silently cried, repeating the words he said: “I can’t do this anymore.” He never gave you a reason why, even as he sobbed while he was telling you those words. The next day he was actually gone; Gareth, him and Jeff loaded up his van, and had left before the sun had risen that morning. You had grieved him and were on the way to finish grad school for nursing when you saw their faces on the cover of Rolling Stone magazine. After that, their songs were on the radio, they were on everyone’s social media. He was everywhere, and you couldn’t get rid of him. You hated how good their music was, and you couldn’t believe the first song on their first album was the one the two of you wrote together. You remember that day like the back of your hand; it was summertime, senior year of high school was around the corner. You were two nerds in love, and no matter where you went, he was always by your side. You had always loved writing poetry, and that was what started the idea of you writing a few verses for him. 

The wind whips your hair as you attempt to turn the page in your book with one hand, trying to shift the weight of the warm body near you as your lean against the trunk of a tree. Eddie was laying in your lap, writing in his composition notebook. Your other hand was gently curling through his hair, massaging his scalp. He sets his notebook down on his stomach and gazes up at you. You look at him and smile, your eyes going back to your book. His hand reaches up to play with your hair, and he grins. “What are you reading?” 

“The collected poems of Sylvia Plath.” You tell him, not meeting his eyes.

He moans softly. “’I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. I think I made you up inside my head.’”

“Didn’t know you could read.” You say with a smirk and he laughs. 

“She’s the only woman that has allowed me inside her head, unlike someone I know.” He sits up, seating himself between your legs as you feel his eyes burn into the side of your face. You look at him, placing the bookmark to save your place. He’s smirking that smirk, and you lean back against the tree. 

“You’ve known me your whole life, you still haven’t figured me out?” He smiles and shakes his head. You reach your hand out to grip his chin. “Am I really that hard to read?” 

“Yes.” He says with a laugh. “You’re a mystery to me. I want to know what goes on inside that pretty little noggin of yours.” He leans forward, kissing your lips softly. You smile against his lips. 

“Give me your notebook. I’ll give you a little taste.” 

“Ooooh.” He says, groaning softly, brushing his lips against yours. “Don’t tempt me to taste other things.” 

A shudder goes through you, and you try to hide your blush. He giggles, rubbing your cheek softly, pushing his notebook into your chest. “Write me a song.” 

“I’m not sure if my thoughts are heavy metal material.” You tell him, turning to a blank page and uncapping the pen. He kisses your neck gently; his fingers lightly graze against the soft skin on your arm. Your eyes flutter close at his touch and you press the tip of the pen on the paper. He still gently caresses your skin, his soft lips leaving kissing trails along your neck and jaw. He was lucky you were in a public park, because you were about to say fuck the writing and lift up your dress just to feel him inside you. Well, that has never stopped you two before. 

He rests his head against your shoulder, letting out a peaceful sigh as you write. You’re not sure where it had come from, it felt dark as you stare at the words. You feel Eddie’s palm gently rub over the fabric where your stomach was, gently kneading. Your stomach twitches as he tickles you and he laughs quietly. “Is that a new spot?” He bites his lip, kissing your neck again. 

“Shhh, I’m almost done.” You tell him with a grin. His hand travels below your belly, gently cupping your mound and a small gasp escapes your lips. “Eddie…hands.” 

“Sorry.” He mutters and kisses your cheek. He watches you as you write more on the page. You hand him back the pen and the notebook. “Read it to me.” 

Your eyes widen slightly. “No, I’m embarrassed.” 

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” He tells you with a sweet smile. 

You sigh. “Fine. But don’t laugh at me.” He rests his head against your shoulder as you begin. “They say these ‘violent delights, have violent ends’ but is it so violent, that when the world ends in fire and ice, I’d rather freeze my soul, to be reborn, in a world not so cruel. Soulless eyes stare back into me, terrified of what they’ve seen. A little girl lost, but you found her in the pits of despair and agony. Kissed her tears, tasted her until she felt you in her very core and called you hers. A daughter of the night, the sun burns too bright, the sun burns too bright.” 

Eddie lifts his head from your shoulder and stares at you in awe. “Wow…that was…” 

“Horrible.”

“No! No, sweetheart.” He cups your face. “I didn’t know you could write like that. Why have you been holding out on me?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, I didn’t think I was that great.” 

“This definitely heavy metal song material.” He takes the notebook from your hands, pressing his lips deeply against yours, holding the side of your face, his tongue licking your lips begging for entrance. You curl your fingers through his hair, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter all around as he kisses you. He pulls away, leaving small pecks on your lips. You were breathless, being kissed by him was always so breathtaking to you but he caught you off guard with this one. 

“What was that?” You giggle, staring into his big brown eyes. 

“I just…love you.” He rubs your cheek. “I feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

He didn’t. And he didn’t love you, he was just lying about it, because why would it be that simple with him? That’s why this decision would make it hard for you. What would you gain from it? A mended friendship? That’s better than nothing, you thought. You didn’t want him to die; your stomach turns at the thought. What an idiot. You shake your head, what the hell was he thinking using heroin? What brought him to that point in his life to make that choice? You sigh, feeling defeated. What would you even say to him in the letter? Would you tell him that you’ve been thinking about him this whole time? No, that sounds pathetic. 

You groan. You pick up the pen, and you just write. 

Present Day - Eddie

I don’t think I’ve left my bedroom at all today. Maybe once to get something to eat. I was in my cabin in New York, Gareth has been staying with me. I know most of it is to keep an eye on me, but I know he doesn’t want to be alone either. It had snowed last night, there was over a foot on my property; Gareth had offered to take my truck to plow, I didn’t say no, I would’ve done it, but it probably would’ve stayed like that until Ted’s services. He wanted a combined wake and funeral; he was going to be buried where his parents were. We had to be in Vermont the day after tomorrow.  I was laying on my side, staring at the wall, and I hear my bedroom door open. I feel the bed shift as Gareth lays next to me. It wasn’t unusual, us to be laying in the same bed. For months we only had my van to drive and sleep in to play music gigs across different states, and the three of us would have to get comfortable being close. “You need to get up, man.” He tells me softly. 

“I will.” I mutter. 

“When?” I can feel his eyes digging into the back of my skull, I squeeze my eyes shut and then snap them open. Everytime I close my eyes I see Ted’s lifeless face, I hear my cries, feel the unbearable weight of the grief. 

“When I go to the bathroom again.” I feel myself smirking and I hear him chuckle a little. 

“You’re scaring me.” He says after a moment of silence. 

“I shouldn’t be.” I say quietly. “I don’t have a needle in my arm.” 

“Not yet.” 

“I love your words of support; it’s always so appreciated.” I say with an eye roll and turn on my back to face him. “I’m not gonna use again.” 

He looks at me, and I see the shy, awkward little kid that I met all those years ago, the kid I took punches for, who I would still take punches for. “How do you know that?” He does look scared, exhausted, sad…really fucking sad. 

I feel my throat close up as tears spring to my eyes. “Because if I do…all the work that I did…all the love and support he gave me even when I was at my worst…that all dies with him. And I can’t do that to him. Not again.” 

His eyes are watery, and he looks away from me, staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t lose you too, Eddie. I really, really don’t think I’d make it.” 

I grab his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not going anywhere, man.” 

“What are we gonna do?” He whispers, and I see a tear fall down his cheek and onto my pillow. “He was the heart of our band…what are we supposed to do? Get a new manager?” 

“No.” I say, surprised at how stern I sound. “We don’t need a manager. He taught us everything we needed to know.” 

“It’s not gonna be easy.” He says with a soft laugh. 

“Did he ever have it easy with us?” 

“With us, yes. With you?” He meets my eyes and smiles. 

I laugh. “He did his best, that’s all we wanted.” 

“And he was good at it.” 

“That’s why we can’t get a new manager. It won’t be worth it.” I let out a loud sigh, your face flashes through my mind for a moment and I shudder, trying to not think of you. Gareth can sense my internal demise. 

“You should call her.” 

“No.” I say immediately. 

He sits up to lean against the headboard, looking down at me. “I don’t know why you’re so upset with her. She loves you.”

“She only contacted me because Ted asked her to. That’s not love, that’s pity.” I scoff, running my hands through my hair. I smell ripe, I definitely need to shower. 

“I mean…you walked out on her, Eddie. The fact that she was even willing to give you a chance again after all these years, it shows that she’s loved you this entire time. She started doing chest compressions on Ted the second I said to call 911, she didn’t even hesitate. She just did it. She is the same kind, caring, stupidly beautiful girl that she’s always been. She may have gotten older, but it didn’t hurt her insides. And she loves you, dude. I see her look at you the same way she did fifteen years ago, she’d still go to bat for you. Why does that scare you so much? To let love in like that?” 

“Because why would she love me? All I’ve done is cause her pain.” My voice sounds far away; I hate feeling vulnerable.  

“And have been causing yourself pain in the process. Eddie, you’ve been in love with her forever. Like since before you even started dating. You’ve been through everything together. There’s a reason why Ted reached out to her; there’s a reason why after all these years you get that chance to be with her again. Don’t let this be the thing that takes her away forever.” 

I glance up at him, scowling. “I hate that you have a way with words. I just wanted to kiss you just now.” 

He laughs, patting my head. “Don’t let her go. You’d be stupid to do that again.” He hops off the bed and turns to look at me from the doorway. “You fucking stink, go take a shower.” 

I put up my middle finger and we both laugh; I watch as he walks away and closes my door. I sigh, groaning at the stupid regret I feel in the pits of my stomach. He was right, I’ve been in love with you for so long sometimes it was hard to breathe. I force myself out of bed; it’s like thinking of you was the push I needed. I remember the day I told you I loved you for the first time, I was having the worst anxiety; I remember Uncle Wayne telling me that the worst thing that could happen is that you wouldn’t feel the same way, and that just made me feel worse. It was just a normal night for us, we were smoking pot in the back of my van. It was cold this night, you had a fleece blanket wrapped around your knees, you were singing bohemian rhapsody in all the voices, and I couldn’t handle how funny you were being, I was almost going into a straight panic attack. 

“Please, stop. I can’t…I can’t breathe!” I laugh loudly. 

“For meeeeee, for meeeeeeeee!” You start head banging and ended up whacking your head off of Gareth’s high hat, which causes me to laugh even harder. “Ow! Fuck.” You laugh holding your head and I gently lift your hair to check to make sure there wasn’t a severe injury. 

“That’s what you get.” I laugh, gently smoothing out your hair. You giggle, moving Gareth’s high hat out of the way to make more room. You were wearing a black zip up hoodie, and only a bra underneath. I only knew that because when you leaned over I could only see the hills of your breasts. And I know that’s why you were so cold. Oh, how I wanted to unzip that hoodie even lower, just to see you, see all of you. I hated my hormonal thoughts, it always gave me an erection whenever I thought of you that way. And I have always thought of you as something more, not just my best friend, but someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. I felt stupid thinking like that, we were only seventeen, we were babies. 

“What?” You snap me out of my thought. 

“Huh?” I say. 

You laugh. “You’re just staring at me, are you having a moment? Are you too high?” 

“Let’s not talk about whether I’m too high or not because you know it will send me into a spiral thinking my eyeballs aren’t closing.” I laugh nervously. 

“They’re not closing.” You smirk at me. 

I growl at you. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

You laugh loudly, nudging me with your shoulder, moving yourself onto my lap. I could feel how cold you were, so I wrap my arms around the top of you, gently rubbing your shoulders. It wasn’t unusual for you to do this, we have always been each other's human security blankets, but I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I needed to tell you, just to get it out. Just to let you know that I’ve loved you since I understood what that word meant. That if you didn’t feel the same way, at least you’d know. I’m playing with your hair; my fingers gently go behind your neck and massage the skin. You softly moan a little, and I swallow hard. 

“I have to tell you something.” I whisper to you. You turn your head in my lap to look at me, you have a small smile on your face. My hand gently goes to your chin, and I let out a shaky breath. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You sit up to look at me. 

“I…I um…” I laugh nervously, running my hands through my hair. I stare at your face, your lips. “I’m in love with you.” I give you a little shrug and a small smile. 

You stare at me for a moment, and I can see the gears in your brain turning. “I know this is out of nowhere and I’m sorry…even if you don’t feel the same I just wanted you to-“ 

Your lips are on mine suddenly, your hands cup my face. My hands nervously go to your waist as the kiss deepens, I feel your tongue graze mine gently, and I shudder. You pull away, staring into my eyes, my lips. You hold my face and I stare at you in awe. “I love you too.” You whisper and I can feel my grin getting wider.

“Really?” I ask you and you nod. 

“Since forever.” You say, leaning forward to kiss me again, I hold your face when we pull away. “You’re my person.” 

I smile again, pressing my lips to yours. You push your body onto mine, straddling my waist with your legs.  I wrap both my arms around your waist, moving slightly to lay you on your back. The rug to my van was an old shag carpet, but it was comfortable. You didn’t feel cold anymore. Your hands move under my shirt, I shudder at your touch, your soft hands. I move my lips to your neck, pulling the zipper down, kissing both hills of your breasts. You let out a soft sigh, your fingers curling through my hair as I cup one of your breasts, kissing in between them. I grip your jean clad thigh, hooking it tighter around my waist and grind against you. The friction plus the pressure causes a throaty moan to escape me and you sit up. You stare at me, your lips swollen from our kiss, and you unzip the hoodie, sliding it off of you and I watch as your hands to behind your back, unhooking your bra. The straps fall slightly down your shoulders and I watch as you shyly let the bra slip away from you. I lean back on my heels, my palms on your knee as my eyes scan your body. I’ve always imagined this; but this was better than what I had imagined. I lean forward between your legs, kissing you deeply. My lips go down to your neck, and I glance up at you, making sure everything was still okay before I did what I did. You lean back to get more comfortable, and I pull your nipple into my mouth. You let out a moan, which caused me to almost explode in my own jeans. The closest I’ve ever gone with a girl was feeling her up, this was brand new to me, and I could tell it was for you too. I wanted to taste all of you, I wanted to know what your sex tasted like, I wanted to know what would make you scream. I move my lips down to kiss your ribs, your naval and I snap the button of your jeans. You arch your hips, helping me pull them down and this is the first time I’m seeing you in your underwear. My fingers knead your thighs and I look into your eyes. 

“Can I taste you?”

Your face turns crimson, it made you look so much more beautiful, and you nod, biting your lip. “I’ve never done this before.” 

“You know I haven’t.” I laugh, and I stare at you as I move my palm to the top of your underwear. The fabric was damp, and I feel a smile toy at my lips, gently moving your underwear to the side. My hands shake a little as the tips of my fingers graze your clit, I watch as your head falls back, and a soft moan escapes you. I rub you gently, feeling your opening. I gently slide a finger into you and your back arches, I couldn’t believe how tight you felt. I scoot back to my stomach, wrapping my arms around your thighs, staring at your beautiful, beautiful pussy. You lean up on your elbows to look at me; and I flick my tongue out, gently kissing your clit. You gasp and something awakens inside me. You taste so good, so sweet, and I bury my face into your folds, devouring you. I didn’t even know if I was doing it right, but from the sounds you were making; I think I was doing okay. Your fingers pull my hair and I feel my dick twitch as you moan loudly. “Right there, baby.” You moan out, and I moan in response; you sounded so sexy, so breathless. 

I pull away to look up at you. “Like this?” I lick a long wet stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking gently. You tremble beneath me, your chest heaving with gasps and moans. 

“Oh…my…Eddie.” You moan. I groan in response, tasting all of you, sucking you until your moans get louder and I’m pretty positive you’re about to come. Your head falls back in pleasure, and a loud, hot, moan escapes your lungs and you’re coming in my mouth. I stick my tongue around your hole, feeling you clench, tasting your juices and gripping your thighs until you can’t take it anymore. It’s so intoxicating I don’t want to stop. Your eyes are closed as you settle your breathing, I sit back on my heels, wiping my face and smile at you. You sit up, grabbing the back of my head and kiss me. You moan against my mouth, and a groan escapes me when I feel your hand cup my erection over my jeans. You pull away from me, quickly undoing the button on my jeans and pulling them down past my legs. I see your eyes widen when I spring to life, and you smile.

You look up at me, your hands gently rub my thighs, my ass and I shudder under your touch. I move to my back, highly aware of how exposed I felt with your eyes scanning my body. I immediately feel shy, and I honestly couldn’t tell you why. You sense how nervous I am, and you crawl up my body. Your hand tickles my chest and you kiss me gently. I hold your waist, gripping your skin and you pull back to look at me. I swallow hard as you lean down to kiss my neck, making soft pecks along my chest, moving down to my abdomen. A moan escapes me when I feel your hands gently grab my cock, rubbing your soft hands over the velvety ness of it. I gasp when I feel your lips kiss the tip; I could tell you were nervous too, but I swear as soon as you took my whole length into your mouth, you knew exactly what to do. A broken moan escapes me, and you quickly pull your head back.

“I’m sorry…did I…”

“No, no.” I say breathlessly, grabbing your wrist. “That was really good, keep going.” 

Your mouth is on me again, and I groan, feeling your tongue swirl around my shaft, move down towards my balls. I moan loudly, my head falls back against the bottom of the high hat, which causes a humorous sound and I end up laughing while moaning. You throat me deeper and I hold your hair. I want to know what you feel like inside, I want to feel that beautiful pussy clench around my cock. I pull your head up to look at you.

“I wanna feel you.” I whisper. 

You sit back, smiling that beautiful smile. You nod, biting your lower lip. I scoot up, taking your face in my hands and kiss you deeply. I turn you around so you’re on your back, gently grazing my fingertips over your skin. I bite my bottom lip, staring at your naked body. You were so beautiful. I feel a blush rise to my cheeks as I stare at you, and you smile sweetly.

“You nervous?” You ask me and I nod.

“A little.”

“Me too.” You say, reaching up to cup my face as I hover above you. I smile into your palm and a thought crosses my mind. 

“Oh.” I lean back, go into my wallet, pulling out a condom. I tear it open with my teeth, staring at the rubber like it was a bomb. 

“I think it goes…” you sit up a little, taking the condom and sliding it down my shaft. I shudder but I’m equally embarrassed. 

“Pretty pathetic that I don’t know how to put a condom on.” I laugh awkwardly, leaning down to hover over you again. 

“You’re not pathetic. If you’re pathetic; I’m pathetic. I’ve never had an orgasm until you.” 

My eyes widen at your confession. “No way. Even when you play with yourself?” 

You shake your head. “I guess I didn’t do it right.” You laugh and smile at me. “Looks like we have to teach each other things.” 

I smirk, gently leaning down to kiss your lips. I rub your cheek, caresses your hair. “If it hurts, you tell me, okay? And I’ll stop.” 

You nod, I could feel you shaking. I was shaking too, but I wasn’t sure if it was nerves, excitement or both. You open your legs a little wider for me, and I kiss you gently, my hand palming your entrance and I pull my hand away to line myself up with you. I slowly push myself in, and a grunt escapes me, you let out a soft gasp and I feel you clench. 

“Am I hurting you?” I ask, panic in my voice as I stop pushing in.  

“No, it just stings a little. Keep going.” You whisper, gripping my forearms. I push myself in further and I hear you coo; I look at your face and you’re biting your lip. You were so fucking tight, so tight that it was starting to hurt me, and I didn’t know what to do next. I feel you roll your hips into mine and I gently pull myself out a little and move back in. You moan, and a throaty growl escapes me as I quicken the movements in my hips. You felt so good, and I wanted to go faster but I didn’t want to hurt you. 

“Faster, baby.” You moan, like you read my mind. I stare into your eyes, and you kiss me deeply, letting me know that it was okay. I move my hips faster, the sensation of the friction, plus the sounds that were coming from you were turning me into a wild fucking animal. “Ohhh…” 

I could feel my orgasm building in my belly, and once I feel your hands grab my ass to push me deeper into you, it was all over. We were both moaning so loud, and I honestly didn’t remember which way up. You gasp loudly, and I feel you clench around me. “Oh baby…I think I’m gonna come again…”

“Fuck…I’m close…” my head falls back in pleasure, and I slow my rhythm down, my hips bucking as I come into the condom, and you’re fucking screaming my name, clenching all around me. Your nails claw at my back and I’m groaning into your neck as I ride out the rest of my orgasm, and you gasp out beautiful, beautiful sounds that was music to my ears. 

I swallow back the lump in my throat as I lay my head in the crook of your neck. Your hands are in my hair, holding me to you. I look at you and you smile at me, kissing me so softly, sweetly. And at that moment, all was right in the world. 

Gareth had driven my car to Vermont, I couldn’t stomach the drive. I think I puked three times before getting in the car because I’m still having a hard time processing what we were doing and why we were going to Vermont. I think I chain smoked a whole pack of cigarettes the way there. I was texting with my sponsor the whole way there too, he was a good guy, making me feel better about myself on how it was normal to be feeling the way I did. I didn’t want to use, but I didn’t want to feel anything. He also suggested I reach out to you after the services, and I shut that down. I didn’t want to think about you, I just wanted to focus on the fucked-up fact I was about to bury the one man I considered a father. We pull up to the funeral home, it looked like a beautiful cottage. A large window overlooked a frozen lake. I get out of the car on shaky legs; I could feel Gareth’s eyes on me. 

I turn to look at him. “I’m fine.” 

“Don’t look it.” He mumbles. 

“Neither do you.” I slam the car door and we both walk up the stone steps into the funeral home. We enter the place, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the aroma of floral arrangements I want to gag. We sign the guest book, and I have to pause in the double doorway when I see the shiney black opened casket. I don’t even see the people in the seats, or the people who have been in the music industry longer than I have. I just zero in on the box and Julie standing right next to it. She meets my eyes, and she’s already pushing her way through people to get to me. I’m falling into her, my forehead is resting against her small shoulder, I’m breathing in the smell of her shampoo and her Chanel perfume. She’s hugging me close, and I begin to weep. 

“Oh, my sweet boy…” She says gently in my ear.

“It doesn’t seem real, it’s not right…” I pull away to look at her, to glance at the casket. “It’s not okay.” The tears are hot on my cheeks, and I feel Gareth stiffen next to me as he tries to control his own tears. She kisses my cheek, taking my hand, leading me up to the casket. I stop when I see Nellie, she meets my eyes, and she’s immediately sobbing. I hug her to me, cupping the back of her head as she buries her face into my chest. She was a few years younger than me, and she always felt like a sister, and I immediately feel riddled with guilt that I spent so many years chasing a high when she would send me birthday cards from her kids, or birthday party invitations. Even when I wasn’t on tour, I would make up some excuse. I couldn’t do that anymore. No more excuses. 

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper to her, and there’s so many reasons behind that. Her fingers grip into my back and she nods against my chest. 

“Don’t disappear on me again, okay?” She pulls away to look at me. “The kids need their Uncle Eddie.” 

I swallow a sob, and nod, gently kissing the top of her head. I look over at the casket, and I slowly make my way over. He was dressed in his best blazer that he had custom made, a vintage Van Halen t shirt covers his chest underneath. His shaggy dirty blonde hair was styled neatly. I couldn’t look at his face. I just stared at his chest; my vision was blurring. I felt the similar ache in my belly when I thought of you, except you were still alive. Ted was dead.  I finally look at his face, and a sound escapes my lungs. I sound like a whimpering dog; I couldn’t control it, I just started to weep. I rest my head against the kneeling bench, feeling Julie’s arms wrap around me. I felt pathetic, crying like this, in front of all these people. Ted was the reason we got to where we were…Ted was also the reason that got me back to you. 

And I didn’t know how to keep going without him. 

I disassociated during the burial, I don’t remember who I spoke to, who I hugged. All I remember is coming back to my cabin with Gareth, neither one of us saying a word to each other. I had peeled off my suit jacket, kicked off my shoes and plopped on the chair in my kitchen. I lit up a cigarette, letting the smoke billow in my lungs. I stare up at my liquor cabinet, knowing that I had a half empty bottle of bourbon hidden in there. The chair skids against the floor as I get up, go into the cabinet, and pull the bottle down. I pull the cap off the bottle, staring at the brown liquid. My heart was racing, I could feel my ears pulsating as my thoughts were swimming in my brain.

You know where this can lead to. Ted’s voice echoes in my head. 

“Fuck off.” I whisper through my teeth. 

You’ve come so far. 

“FUCK OFF!” I scream, pitching the bottle against the wall next to my refrigerator and it shatters, the liquid spilling to the floor. I yell again, punching the wood of my cabinets until my knuckles bled. I slide to the floor; Gareth comes running in from the back bedroom.

“Jesus, Eddie…” He says quietly, his eyes scanning the broken glass, my bloody hand, and the tears streaming down my cheeks. 

“Did you know…the last time Ted was here, I was detoxing? Right on that couch.” I let out a chuckle, pointing out into the living room. “Unwillingly of course, or maybe willingly, I don’t fucking know. I was heading into the depths of madness at that point, but he had shown up. I was convinced you had sent these little demon creatures to come kill me or hurt him and somehow, he convinced me to get rid of my dope.” I laugh again, almost manically. “The last time that man was in my house, I was a complete fucking monster. I hated him, I hated him for making me go through the pain. I hated him because he cared about me so fucking much, he’d rather sit there and watch me cry and scream in pain. Why, man?” I look up at Gareth, my lips trembling. “Why did he care about me so much? After everything I had done. After who I became?”

“Eddie…” I could tell he’s lost for words. He slides down to the floor next to me, and I just stare at him. He pulls me by my shirt, pulling me into him. He cradles me like a baby, and I just sob into his chest. “You know why, dude. He loved you.”

I scoff, wiping the snot from my nose. “I was unlovable. And I fucking manipulated him so many times. I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack back then.”

“Eddie.” Gareth says sternly. “If you are blaming yourself for his death, you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought. Things like this just happen sometimes, man. Whether it’s natural, or unnatural. When I was so fucking at you when it got really bad, when I thought I was staring into the eyes of a person who murdered my brother…Ted would always tell me that he knew you were still in there. That you would come out of this, and look…you came out of it.”

“It’s not that simple, man.” I say through my teeth, my throat bobbing as I’m trying to stop from sobbing again. “Everyday I have to fight…I have to hold back the urge to go and use…and now…now I have all this love…all this love that has no place to go…he was a fucking dad to us, Gareth. And now he’s gone…he’s just…gone.” 

Gareth doesn’t say anything more, he just holds me tighter as I cry. 

Rabbit hole

Rabbit hole

Where did you go? 

Rabbit hole

Rabbit hole

Where did…

I haven’t showered in three days; Gareth left yesterday. 

I pace in my kitchen, already on my fourth cup of coffee, and it’s not even noon. 

My phone rings, I send it to voicemail, sending a reassuring text that I’m okay. 

I’m really not, but I don’t have a needle in my arm.

So, there’s that. 

It’s been a week; I finally showered. I dreamt of you last night. 

I grip the pen in my hand, flapping the composition notebook as I continue to pace in the living room. 

My therapist is here. 

I don’t say much. 

She looks afraid for me. 

Maybe, she should be.

She suggested anti-depressants. 

I said no, I numbed my feelings for too long, I had to pay the price and feel things without the help of a medicine. 

Dying seems better than this existence. 

Maybe I already died, and I’m just living in this vessel of a body that is rotten. 

Fuck, Eddie. That’s dark. 

I laugh to myself, continuing to pace. Looks like I don’t need the drugs to be an actual fucking madman. 

Mad hatter, too much tea

Mad hatter, look at me, look at me,

I’m a fucking disease. 

Every time I close my eyes, I see you. I see your smile, I hear your laugh, I feel your touch. 

What the fuck am I doing? 

Why am I standing here alone? 

I miss you. 

I miss him. 

No. No. No. 

Gareth is right. 

I can’t lose you. 

Not again. 

Not again. 

NOT AGAIN.

I take the keys to my truck, awkwardly pulling my boots on as I stumble out the door.

Looks like I’m going to Maine.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #Spotify

[troubatrain]

want you to want me - m. tkachuk

a/n: i’m awful at intros but this fic is my whole ass child. i started it months ago and i picked it up back and then i just couldn’t stop writing. now we’re at a whopping 10k words and i’m really happy with the way this one came out. i hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it.

big thanks to @hookingminor @igor-shestyorkin & @tkafuckit for reading this as i wrote it and gassing me up ily all sm

warnings: smut

You were Matthew’s dream girl, and you didn’t have a fucking clue. You were leaning against the cold metal bleachers of your former high school, chatting with whatever teacher probably wanted to hear all about that shiny NWSL contract you signed right out of college with the Chicago Red Stars. It was well deserved, a few national titles in college put you in the position in the first place, and Matthew respected the hell out of you. You wouldn’t know, by the way he never seems like he actually wants to speak to you and the few snide remarks about your sport in general. That started forever ago, when Matthew royally fucked up any chance he had with you later in life because he was a competitive asshole.

It started when you were twelve, and middle school was nothing short of a mess. Matthew was growing into his own, adding a near foot to his height over one summer while his father and coaches doted on the fact that he was getting bigger. Getting bigger meant getting better, and for a few years winning was the most important thing in the world. But, becoming a hormonal preteen came with something else, feelings about the girl who sat three rows behind him in almost all of his classes.

Then third period gym class came around, and Matthew was a competitive monster. The kind of kid who took that way too seriously, and you accidentally became public enemy number one. You were the only person in his class who could even come close to beating him at anything, because you were just as much of an athlete as he was. Soccer had become your craft, and much like Matthew, you declared you’d go pro one day. So, Matthew did what any other insecure twelve year old boy would, he teased you relentlessly. It was awful, but by the time Matthew had gone off to play for the National team you had forgotten about his bullshit.

Apparently, you’d done something in a past life to warrant dealing with Matthew for longer than you ever anticipated. Jamie was your little sister, and Taryn’s best friend. Best friend was probably understatement, the pair were inseparable on and off the field. They trained together, they played on the same teams and that meant way too much time with the rest of the Tkachuk’s. You learned quickly, that the rest of their family was wonderful and Matthew seemed to be too thick headed to fall in line.

You tolerated Matthew, brushing his silly remarks off just like you did when you were younger. The thing was, Matthew didn’t want you to just tolerate him, but he didn’t know how to get you to stop hating him. You make your way over to Matthew who’d been standing next to his brother since the start of your sister’s game.

“Hi Brady,” You greet, tapping Brady on the shoulder who pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That annoyed Matthew the most, the way you seemed to love his siblings and despise him. In your defense, nobody was more supportive of your professional career than Brady, who’d made a promise to catch a game the second he could, “Hi Matthew.”

You were waiting for something from Matthew, an acknowledgement for finally achieving a dream of yours. You’d gotten the congratulations from the rest of his family, a massive celebration because Keith thought you deserved it. Matthew probably didn’t think you did. You could practically hear his smug little voice about how much his recently inked contract was compared to yours, because you’d heard it since you were kids. He used to rip on your athletic abilities every chance he could, something about how it didn’t matter how hard you could kick a ball you couldn’t hold a hockey stick so he was just better.

“You’re here!” You hear the chipper voice of your little sister approach, Jamie’s sweaty postgame arms wrapped around your waist. You’d been in Chicago, signing some paperwork and looking into finding a place to stay when you had to go for camp. You promised you’d make it back in time, and your flight landed less than five hours ago but you made it.

Matthew bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself, watching his own sister push past him to see you. Taryn loved you, because sometimes she just needed a big sister and her brothers were in another country most

of the time. It was the part that killed him the most, seeing you with his family. You fit right in, a fierce athlete with drive that rivaled his own. Brady side-eyed his own brother, watching him instead of the scene unfolding in front of him. He was frustrated with his own brother for not just telling you the truth, that he teased you because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to handle having a crush on you.

But Brady was going to do it himself if his brother didn’t.

***

Matt, you don’t have a girlfriend right?

Matthew knew damn well he should not have answered his sister’s question, but when he realized her best friend had been sitting right next to her in the kitchen, his curiosity got the best of him. So he did, telling his sister he was single and sparing her details of any of the girls he’d gone on dates with the past year. That was his life is Calgary, a constant revolving door so no one would see what was underneath layers of sarcasm and angst. But every summer, he’d come home and wonder when he’d start to build a life for himself, and if he’d ever find that person to do it with. That was when his brain would start to wander, fantasies of a future that always seemed to involve you. He loved to imagine it, the years that you’d both spend supporting the other’s dream. Matthew would do anything to make sure you achieved yours, and he thought you’d do the same. Then you’d both settle down, the big house with the white picket fence and a shiny ring on your finger Matthew put there himself and years of arguing about what sport your future children would play - he’d even consider letting you have just one.

Unfortunately, none of that could be real until he figured out how to get you to hate him less. Taryn apparently had the same idea, and had been scheming with your sister for months. The two girls were looking at Matthew with devilish grins on their faces, like whatever they came up with would totally work.

“Y/N doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Your sister hums, sipping the smoothie they forced Matthew to drive them to go get, “It’s sad actually-”

“We think you should date,” Taryn explains, Matthew’s eyes went wide. His sister didn’t know the whole story, or just how far back this stupid fued went. Taryn always loved you, so Matthew just kept his remarks to himself.

“I know you know Y/N doesn’t like me very much,” Matthew explains, “So tell me how that’s going to work.”

“Apologize to her, if she can forgive me for anything she’ll forgive you,” Jamie sighs, thinking of all the times you’d shown her mercy when she didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got to be sorry,” Brady interrupts, mouth full of food while he goes to go look for more in the fridge. He turns around, Matthew’s eyes giving him daggers, “What? You were a dick to her for years, you’ve got to fix that first.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, Taryn had already planned out what Matthew should say to you. Matthew wasn’t going to repeat those words, because he knew exactly what he’d say to you if he ever got the chance. He was trying to fix his past, because the way he acted towards you was the one thing he regrets. 

So with the help of your little sister and the Find my Friends app, Matthew was pulling up to a soccer field he’d been to plenty of times. He used to run through the park nearby, catching a glimpse of your practices when you were in high school and Matthew was an afterthought. He hops out of his car, smiling when he could see you running drills alone. You were dribbling the ball, counting to yourself while you were weaving through cones you set up.

“I’ve never been good at those,” Matthew calls out, walking over to you while you stopped and caught your breath, “I kick the cones with my skate every single time.”

“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” You tease, grabbing your water and guzzling it down, “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize?” Matthew admits, knowing his face was probably bright red. He was nervous, the good kind like he got before a big game, “I was just an insecure kid then, and you didn’t deserve what I did just because I was afraid you’d beat in something.”

Matthew left out the part where he felt like he was still that kid all the time. All of those insecurities about himself seemed to be picked up by every reporter in Canada when he was there. You bit your lip, pretending like you were trying to debate whether or not you should forgive Matthew at all. In reality, you would have forgiven him ages ago if he’d just apologized sooner. It was so long ago, and sometimes you thought Matthew’s constant taunting made you better. He was pleading, baby blue eyes staring at you sadly while he waited for your answer. He looked like he didn’t think he deserved to be forgiven, shoulders slumped while he tried to read your body language. It was something you noticed about Matthew forever ago, he could have everything in the world but when he looked at you he seemed almost sad.

“I mean I could forgive you, but only if you beat me,” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at Matthew, “If I win, I don’t have to and if you win all is forgiven.”

“Really? Isn’t that why we were in this situation to begin with?” Matthew points out, crossing his arms at you.

“I thought you weren’t that kid anymore,” You remind of his own words, testing him to see if he’d put his money where his mouth was. Matthew smirks, chuckling to himself, “C’mon Tkachuk let’s see what you got.”

Matthew shook his head, laughing and lining up next to you. You both counted to three, sprinting down the field at full force. Matthew knew his height was the only thing working to his advantage while he tried to keep up with you. You were nearing your finish line, and Matthew didn’t think he was going to win. You were going to forgive him regardless, but Matthew didn’t know that. His arms stretched out, grabbing your waist and pulling you into his chest. Matthew turned his body around, stepping over the line before you did.

“God, you’re such a fucking cheater Matthew,” You hit his chest, Matthew’s hands still firmly placed on your hips.

“I didn’t want to lose,” Matthew admits, all of his smug attitude diminishing immediately, “Just want you to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you if you never pull that shit on me again,” You poke his chest, slipping out of his grip and running to your stuff before he could notice how nervous he was making you. 

No. Absolutely not. You told yourself while you checked your phone, rolling your eyes at the warning text from Jamie that Matthew was on his way, you couldn’t have anything but indifference to Matthew Tkachuk. It got harder everytime you saw him, the past few years had been nothing short of kind to him, he was growing from a dumb immature boy to a man more and more every summer. You turn around, peeking at Matthew who was sitting down and catching his breath, a winning smile on his face, the same kind he had the very first time he schooled everyone at floor hockey in middle school.

Maybe you could be friends.

***

Matthew liked having you as a friend, mostly because as of right now that was all he was going to get. You definitely didn’t trust him, which was valid considering Matthew had been a dick to you for years, but he was working on it. He had to, that uncontrollable feeling that he cared about you was getting harder to shove back down with every year that passed.

“You’re friends now, you don’t need to stare at her like a creep anymore,” Brady scoffs, watching his brother gawk at you from afar. Matthew couldn’t help it, you just had a glow about you, you always did, but somehow in the summer you were golden. Tonight you looked even better, maybe it’s because you smiled at him when he walked instead of scowling like you usually did.

“He’s in love with you,” Steph giggles, sipping her drink and giving Matthew a side eye, “He’s been staring at you all night.”

“He apologized to me,” You confess, holding in that little secret about Matthew’s visit to the field even from your best friend. You had the same friends, the same group of people who’d been pushing the two of you to work it out for years. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them to know that they no longer had to worry about one of you blowing up because the other was there, you just wanted everyone to let it go too. Matthew deserved a little forgiveness, you could only imagine the pressure he felt on himself back then, and while he didn’t totally deserve your protection - you were going to give it to him, “Don’t-”

“Oh wonder why, I know it’s because he looooves you,” Steph teases, “Did you forgive him?”

“Yeah I mean we’re both older and I’d like to think he’s wiser, and besides our parents are way too close,” You knew this was going to be your excuse for a while. It was better for everyone that you forgave him, Jamie and Taryn spent more time together than you’d spend with anyone and you're just as close with the rest of their family. It wasn’t untrue that it was in fact for the best, but that didn’t mean Matthew’s stupid dimples didn’t persuade you before you could think about anyone else, “Can we stop talking about this?”

Matthew’s eyes didn’t leave you once that night, especially after the way Steph downed tequila shots and convinced you to join her. You deserved to celebrate, you’d accomplished something Matthew knew was your biggest dream because it was the same as his. He was proud of you, not that he’d gotten a chance to show it.

“If you’re going to go pro Y/N, you’ve got to start keeping up,” Brady chirps, watching you stumble over your own feet to walk over to him and Matthew. Matthew had seen this once before, a level of drunkenness where you turned into bambi but that was so long ago he never thought he’d see it again.

“I’ll go pro in beating your ass Brady,” You snap back, shooting daggers over Brady who was already cracking up, “Hi Matthew.”

“Hi,” Matthew’s voice was small, a weird sound considering he was usually the loudest in the room. Brady scoffs, walking away from the two of you before he snaps at how hopelessly in love his brother was. You turn your head in confusion, your mind far too hazy to realize why Brady was so annoyed in the first place, causing Matthew to chuckle, “Want to play? Might be best if we’re on the same team.”

Matthew’s thumb shot over to the beer pong set up on the other side of the room, a mischievous smirk on face, “I mean if it’s for the best.”

Matthew’s arm wrapped around your shoulders holding you close to his chest while you both played pong was definitely not for the best, and it wasn’t helping that stupid crush you had on him. You could feel Steph’s stare from the corner of the room, and you look at her to mouth a don’t at her. It was nice having Matthew on your team, finally a moment where instead of arguing with each other about who’s elbow was clearly over the table - you got to do the same thing to Brady.

“Brady you’re cheating,” You call out, Matthew’s head thrown back in laughter at your seriousness.

“You heard her Brady, elbows over the table,” Matthew breathes out, his body still rumbling with laughter at his little brother’s expense.

“Oh look at you two, you’re just gonna raise some winners one day aren’t you?” Brady chirps back, both happy to see you getting along and annoyed once he realizes that means he was going to get roasted by both of you now. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, tucking your face into Matthew’s arm in hopes no one saw the way you shrunk at that stupid joke.

“We’re winners right now,” Matthew calls out, his last ball landing in the cup and sealing the game for the two of you. Matthew would raise winners with you, it was something he thought about from time to time, but those thoughts were never going to see the light of day, “Alright drunky I think it’s time to get you home.”

“You can stay, I’ll just catch a ride with someone,” You waive Matthew off, who shook his head no at you before you even started speaking.

“One, my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left you,” Matthew starts with, holding up one finger with another on the way, “Two, we’re friends now and I’d like to make sure you don’t die before you see a pro game.”

Matthew had seen you this drunk before, but what he didn’t know was that getting you home would be more difficult than he thought. You started in the direction of your house, but apparently you were a runner and a speedy one at that. Now you were barely two blocks away from Matthew’s parents place and if he could at least get you there he’d be able to call it a night - which wasn’t fucking easy.

“Alright I’ve had enough,” Matthew huffs, jogging to catch up with you and scooping you into his arms. You were hanging over his shoulder, Matthew making his way down the street with the house in his sightline. You could have cared less, laughing your ass off while Matthew walked up the stairs and finally placed you back down on your feet, “Be quiet, go up to my room and get some clothes and go sleep in the guest room.”

You weren’t quiet, not at all and Matthew was amazed not one of his parents came down to see what all the chaos was about. After Matthew had to walk you up the stairs, running back down for some water and hoping you weren’t a disaster by the time he got back - he found you in his bed. You were curled up right in the middle, an old London Knights shirt on your body, Matthew’s favorite. Matthew grabs his comforter, throwing it over your body. He sighs, leaning against his door frame and smiling to himself at how comfortable you looked, flicking off the light and retreating to the guest room.

Matthew hated the guest room. He hated how hard the mattress was and after a few hours of no sleep and tossing and turning - he gave up. Matthew hoped no one else was up, but not to his surprise his mother was already in the kitchen, and judging by the look on her face, she knew who was upstairs.

“Care to explain?” Chantal smirks, raising her eyebrows at her son. Matthew’s face got red, his landing on the back of his neck to cover the blush.

“She fell asleep before I could even get her to the guest room,” Matthew shrugs, hoping his mom wouldn’t push it any further, “I, uh, apologized the other day.”

“Good,” Chantal hums, a knowing look on her face. She didn’t like to push Matthew, her one kid who seemed to be a little rougher around the edges than the others, but that silly feud never sat right with her, “Here, bring her a coffee, I’m sure she needs it.”

Matthew nods, grabbing the mug his mother was holding out and starting to make his way up the stairs. He heard the tell her you made it from his mother and shook his head. He knew what she was thinking, especially with the way Chantal seemed to talk about you. His mother thought you were nothing short of perfect, and Matthew would be a liar if he didn’t think the same thing.

“Did I fall asleep here?” You’d woken up confused, your question only answered by the jerseys hanging on the walls, you were in Matthew’s room. You rub your eyes, the door creaking open way too loudly for how dead you felt.

“Only after you almost fell down the stairs and ran three blocks in the wrong direction,” Matthew chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the mug, “You know you’re fast right?”

“Yeah,” You muse, smirking to yourself and taking a sip of coffee, “I’m sorry I did that to you, and stole your bed - I can go.”

Matthew stopped you, telling to finish your coffee and relax and he’d drive you home after. You fell into a comfortable conversation, something Matthew never thought would happen.

And watching you walk up to your steps in his shirt still wasn’t something he thought he’d see, but it was better than he imagined.

***

“Hey it’s Jamie, can’t get to the phone right now…”

You groan, tossing your phone onto your bed and continuing your pace around the room. It was well after midnight, and your sister had been out all night, and past her curfew. Usually you’d cover for her, definitely taking the prize home for the cool older sister who picks her siblings and their friends up from parties. That’s what had you so worried. Sure, Jamie was a teenager and she snuck in a few little white lies with your parents just like you’d done, but Jamie always told you the truth. She’d check in with you more than her parents, letting you know that she’s going to be out late but she’s safe and if she needed anything she knew who to call. You texted sometime around ten, just checking in since it was Saturday and you were sure she had a more riveting social life than yourself. No answer. Then eleven rolled around and you didn’t hear anything, so naturally you double texted and now it’s twelve thirty and you still haven’t heard anything. You cross your arms, looking at your phone as if you could will an answer into existence. You grab it, dialing a number you weren’t even sure would work.

“Hello?” Matthew’s voice appeared on the other side of the line, clear confusion in his voice. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping Matthew would have the answer you wanted to hear so desperately.

“Is my sister at your house?” You ask, biting your lip and throwing on a pair of sweats so you could pick her up and murder her for scaring you like that. You were sure it was innocent, Jamie slept over at Taryn’s all the time, staying up way too late watching movies or when Jamie would hide going to a party from your much stricter parents.

Matthew tells you to give him a minute, and you can hear him walking through the house. By the time you heard a door open and a small fuck under his breath, your stomach dropped, “She was supposed to be home by midnight.”

“Alright, thanks anyways,” You sigh, “Do you know where they might have gone? It’s just, Jamie hasn’t answered me in hours and she usually does even if she’s out past curfew and I’m just-”

“I’ll be at your house in ten,” Matthew says, his keys alright in his hand and his foot halfway out the door. He was more mad than worried, sure his sister was out a party past curfew. Matthew was her biggest brother, and he was far more protective over her than Brady ever could be. He hated when she did this, and Matthew was pissed. You waited on your steps, Matthew car coming into view while you sprung up and practically sprinted into his car.

“You look mad,” You observe, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. You knew why, trying countless times to remind Taryn that her brother loves her and that’s why he’s like that. You thought he could go a little easier on her, but you wouldn’t dare get in the middle of that.

“I am mad,” Matthew grits out, knuckles white on his steering wheel while he drives slowly down the street. You just drove, in hopes you’d find what was obviously a house party and hopes your sisters were inside. You squint, hoping your eyes weren’t fooling you.

“Wait, pull over I think I see my neighbor,” You yell, Matthew’s foot flying on the break and you hop out. You were right, the bright orange tuft of hair you saw was like a miracle, “Hey Henry have you seen my sister?”

“Oh yeah I think she’s still inside,” Henry points to the house behind him, music blasting and a party in full swing, “I think she’s with Taryn.”

Matthew hops out of the car, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the house with him. Matthew’s fingers were laced with yours with every step he took, weaving through the crowd in hopes you’d see them. It took three bedrooms and a laundry room until you finally saw Taryn standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, and you pushed past them both to see Jamie with her head in the toilet. She was fine, well she was definitely in deep shit, but it wasn’t the worst thing to stumble upon. You throw her hair up, your attention moving to Matthew yelling at his sister in the hallway.

“Why didn’t you call someone,” Matthew yells, trying so damn hard to not completely snap on his baby sister. Taryn yells that her phone had died and then Jamie got sick and she didn’t know what to do. Of course they didn’t. You were probably more sympathetic, and you knew just how pissed off Matthew could get. You get up, pushing Taryn back into the bathroom and telling her to watch your sister.

“Calm down before you talk to her, please,” You plead, grabbing Matthew’s shoulders, “Besides, I sort of need some help right now.”

There it was. The very moment Matthew realized all along you could’ve been helping him. Your hands were wrapped around his biceps, a finger gently rubbing the skin right under the sleeve of his shirt. Every bit of anger disappeared from his body, a calm feeling replacing it. He knew you were right, and he’d be thankful for it later. Matthew knew he had to do the right thing by you, and he nodded, willing to follow any directions you gave him.

Matthew carried Jamie out of the house, getting both of your sisters in the car and finally heading back to your house. You knew he was still pissed off, a present frown on his face so you just took the chance. Just like he’d done before for you, you grabbed one of his hands from his steering wheel, lacing your fingers together. You caught the smile on his face, your thumb rubbing over his hand while his shoulders seemed to just relax. Once

Matthew finally helped you get Jamie inside, a night of laying on her floor to make sure she was okay ahead of you stood in the doorway with Matthew across from you.

“Thank you, I know we’re working on this friendship thing but you really didn’t have to do that,” You were eternally grateful, wrapping your arms around Matthew’s waist and tucking your head into his chest.

“You’d do the same thing for Taryn,” Matthew hums, knowing full well he definitely owed you for being Taryn’s replacement sibling with him and Brady in Canada for most of the year, “Get some rest okay?”

“Wait,” You stop Matthew, grabbing his hand one more time, “Don’t kill your sister, please she’s just a kid-”

“You’re way too easy on them,” Matthew chuckles, shaking his head at you. He knew Taryn was probably scared, and after he calmed a bit he understood where you were coming from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tell her that if she ever pulls that shit again - he was going to rat her out to their parents.

And when Matthew finally got back in the car, he could see his sister’s grin in the backseat, “Don’t say it.”

She held your hand, are you sure you’re not going to malfunction now?

***

Maybe you were spiraling.

You’d been waiting for this moment your entire life, now you had a few more weeks until camp started and you were afraid. You knew you were good enough, you had to be. But what if you weren’t? You could feel the anxiety settling in, a feeling you hadn’t felt since Matthew told you soccer wasn’t a real sport in fourth grace. It’d been eating at you for weeks, deteriorating any confidence you had left in yourself. So you started pushing yourself even harder. The harder you worked the less like you were to fuck it all up. Your muscles were sore, your body was tired and it was just all becoming too much.

And Matthew noticed.

You were pushing yourself too hard, even the time you were supposed to relax with your families before your seasons started was being spent training. He understood it, the term first round exit lived rent free in his head every single time his skate hit the ice over the summer, but that didn’t make it okay. You looked tired, sluggish while you moved because you were running twice a day and training in between. And he was pissed everyone seemed to be fine with it. You should start working harder then Matthew. If it bothers you so much maybe you could join her. It wasn’t that he was jealous of your work ethic, he was worried. Matthew’s eyes followed you as you ran past his house again. The third time in one day, he’d finally decided he had enough.

Matthew took the walk to your house, charming the pants off your mother for her to tell him you were upstairs because you just got back in. He knocks twice, hearing a come in from the other side.

“What are you doing here?” You question, rolling one of your ankles that just seemed to be getting more swollen every time you started to practice. Matthew noticed it, your hands freezing one you caught his gaze.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Matthew stands his ground, he knew you could have told him to fuck off because no one hates advice they didn’t ask for quite like him, “Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s rich coming from the kid who’s played with more broken bones than anyone I know,” You remind him of a few mistakes Matthew’s made playing through injuries he really shouldn’t, “I’m not fucking frail.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Matthew scoffs, it never once crossed his mind that he thought he was tough enough to play through injuries but you weren’t, “It’s about taking a break so you don’t get hurt.”

“I’m fine,” You huff, getting up and trying your best to hide the pain in your ankle when you stood on it. You fell forward, Matthew catching you in his arms and putting you back down the edge of your bed.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Matthew asks with soft eyes, he bent down to take your ankle in his hand and inspect it the best he could. It was swelling, probably from the amount of pressure you’d been putting on your body with no breaks.

“What if I never score a goal?” You whisper, teary eyes finally meeting Matthew’s. His brows shot up, alarmed at how one of the best athletes he’s ever seen could feel the same way he felt right before his first NHL game. Matthew sits down next to you, hand on your thigh while you let out a cry, “What if I’m just a bust? Like I get there and nothing works and I suck.”

“You’ll score eventually,” Matthew scoffs, understanding how ridiculous you sounded but just how you felt at the same time, “Everyone does.”

“You scored like four games into your fucking career Matt,” You remind him, Matthew smiling a bit that you knew that to begin with. It would have been impossible not to know, or pretend like you didn’t keep a few tabs on his career. Matthew Tkachuk was a legend in the making, and whether or not you could feel butterflies in your stomach every time he dropped the gloves was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“I got suspended my first season too,” Matthew jokes, a teary eyed laugh escaping your lips, “I’d put down money you score in your first game.”

“Well good thing you have money to lose,” You sigh dramatically, the fear of fucking up still on your mind.

“You’ll find your groove, all legends do,” Matthew promises, throwing his arm around your shoulders. You snuggled into his side, a realization that he was becoming a comforting presence in your life with each passing day, “And if you don’t, you can always hide out in Canada with me.”

“Matty!” The same silly nickname Matthew introduced himself to you on your very first day of kindergarten slipped through your lips without realizing it. Matthew hadn’t been called that in ages, but it was welcome from you. You push his chest, “That’s not making me feel any better.”

“What if I told you the only reason I was so mean to you was because I was intimidated by how talented you were?” Matthew confesses, scratching your head with his fingers, “If I win a cup one day I think I owe you one.”

Matthew didn’t mention that in his wildest fantasies of raising that cup over his head, you were there. He’d owe you one and he hoped it was because you were there for him until he got there. Matthew saw it the same way every time, you’d tell him to go see his parents first but he’d fly right past them to get to you - the person who accidentally pushed him to be his best. He had plenty of daydreams about you winning too, remembering times you used to brag you’d go to the Olympics one day, and he hoped you were right. He wanted to see you succeed, more than anything, and he thought it would work.

“Legally you have to let me drink out of it,” You muse, shutting your eyes and letting yourself just rest against Matthew.

“It has to be Bud Light,” Matthew teases while watching you fake a gag. You grab his outstretched hand, letting him pull you up. His hands rested on the side of your face, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second. He wanted to kiss you, but he knew he had to wait. Wait for you to be ready. Wait for you to settle down. Or even just wait until he thought he had a real shot at forever.

Forever with you.

***

Matthew was kind of pissed off.

The press didn’t bother him, none of that mattered and at the end of the day Matthew was able to sleep at night knowing he was a good teammate and a decent person most of the time. This one got him though, some writer criticizing the A on his jersey, and how someone who plays like he does didn’t deserve a letter.

A letter he earned.

You could tell something was off, the way Matthew had been running alongside you was aggressive to say the least. He insisted he came with you, something about forcing you to take breaks. He was being your friend, even though your sisters seemed to disagree. Taryn’s words were replaying in your head, Matt doesn’t even care if I get hurt. That didn’t mean anything, those two had no idea what love was and Matthew caring about you a little bit didn’t mean he loved you. Besides, the way he was acting right now told a completely different story.

“Are you mad at me?” You finally slow down, sitting on a rock that was next to the hiking trail you were on.

“No?” Matthew stops dead in his tracks, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach that he fucked this up too, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me what’s wrong,” You push, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at Matthew. You could tell he was pressed about something, his neck covered in a red flush the same way it used to.

“Some stupid article about my letter, don’t worry about it,” Matthew grits, repeating his words again. His defense was up, even after you confessed to him that you were scared of not being enough.

“Get the fuck out of here with the tough guy act Matthew,” You challenge him, poking him right in the chest, “If we’re going to be friends you need to cut that shit out.”

“You really want to hear it?” Matthew barks back, fully yelling at you, “I’m tired of people thinking I don’t deserve things because I threw a few bad hits. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think you’re shitty? No you don’t, because you’re so fucking perfect that my own parents like you more than me.”

You stood there, silent while you tried to figure out how to tell him that simply wasn’t true. His entire body was shaking, the anger coursing through his veins like you’d seen many times before that. Matthew looked like he did the first time you hit a homerun in gym class, except this time it was because that same pressure never got released. You couldn’t come close to understanding the way he probably felt. You didn’t have the comparables in your own family, the constant reminders of Brady’s points tally compared to his, let alone the career his father had.

“Matty,” You whisper, grabbing his hand and running your fingers over the scars on his knuckles, “Why is this bothering you so much?”

You were sure this wasn’t the first time someone’s said he was a pest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. Matthew sighed, the better part of his brain screaming at him to stop before he lost you too.

“I’ve felt like this forever,” Matthew whispers, eyes fixated on your hand in his, “From the moment I started getting bigger, there’s just been this pressure to play a certain way and act a certain way. I was a fucking kid, and while all of my friends got to go wherever they wanted all I ever did was practice. Then I finally get to where I wanted and I’m still getting shit on.”

“Except no one thinks you don’t deserve to be where you are,” You whisper, quiet words as if you were going to startle him, “And I know it doesn’t make up for things people say, but the people who love you think you deserve it.”

Matthew nods, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his words mumbled against your forehead, “I needed that.”

“I know,” You nod, smiling wide up at him, “And we need to practice more because you’re too slow, soooo catch me if you can!”

You slipped out of his arms, running away with a giggle and a smile. Matthew stopped for a second, his Neanderthal brain checking out your ass while you jogged away and his more logical one trying to process what just happened.

But what mattered most was that whatever you did worked and that meant something to Matthew.

***

Just admit you think he’s hot.

You wanted to kill your sister for making this weekend harder than it had to be. You were doing a good job at just friends with Matthew until Jamie was curled up in your bed while you packed for a lake trip with your friends. She pushed it for hours, rambling on about Matthew is actually your type and Taryn swears he’d be a good boyfriend if someone just understood him. The problem was, you were starting to see her point. Matthew had a glow up a few years ago, like one summer he’d gotten home and you were infatuated with him. It used to annoy you, because he’d been such an ass to you that you hated how attractive he was. Then things changed, and now looking at him was just frustrating you. You were terrified about the way he made you feel, like everything would be okay with one look of those blue eyes and a smirk. You felt like he had your back, a vast change from how you used to feel and it was just getting hard to hide it anymore.

Especially when Matthew looked like he did right now. He was holding himself up on the dock, shoulders broad and glistening in the moonlight above you. All your friends were inside, moving their party away from the water as the night lingered on. You wanted to run your fingers through his wet curls, the temptation was almost too much.

“I’ll be in Chicago a few times you know,” Matthew hums, enjoying the time alone he was getting with you. Anytime without Brady teasing him about what the Tkachuk’s had been referring to as the hand holding incident. He didn’t want them to think he didn’t want you, because he did, but he just needed to move at his own pace.

“You want to come see me play?” You ask, leaning back on the palms of your hands. You were surprised by the kind of man Matthew had become, it was a completely different person that he used to be. He cared so much about his loved ones, and you were starting to feel like maybe you had a place there.

“Actually thinking you could come see me play,” Matthew teases, sarcasm dripping from his words. You lifted your foot up, kicking some of the water below you to splash him, but he’d caught your ankle before you could. He stopped for a moment, running a thumb over your skin, “This looks better.”

“Don’t make you admit you were right,” You whine, Matthew swiftly pulling you into the water with him. You yelp, the water way too cold for any normal person, “It’s freezing.”

“C’mere then,” Matthew grabs your waist, pulling your body against his. His hands were splayed across your back, heat radiating off of them. One of your hands was on his shoulder, your other on his chest. You could feel his heart beating quickly, his eyes locked on yours, “Middle school Matthew would be so jealous of me right now.”

“Why’s that?” You hum, running your fingers along Matthew to play connect the dots with the beauty marks on his skin.

“Because he had the biggest crush on you,” Matthew confesses, his grip on you a little tighter, as if he was afraid you’d slip right through his fingers again, “But he was too thick headed to do anything about it.”

“What about grown up Matthew?” You ask, biting your lip. Matthew was practically holding you both up in the water, pressed so close together you could hear the hitch in his breath at your question, “Is he too thick headed to do something too?”

You wrapped your legs around Matthew’s waist, pressing your lips to his and tugging on the curls at the base of his neck. He pushed you up against the dock, helping you back up and pulling himself up next to you. You grabbed the back of his neck, latching your lips back on his. His hand was on your back, fingers toying with the back of your bathing suit, “Think we can get upstairs without anyone noticing?”

Matthew was cool most of the time. He never faltered under the pressure from his career, most of the time, and he definitely didn’t fold when it came to a pretty girl. You had him in the palm of your hand, every part of his brain malfunctioning in response to your words. You bit your lip, wondering if you’d read this entire situation. Matthew rubs a thumb along your lip, “When are you going to realize I’d do whatever you asked me to?”

The two of you snuck up the stairs, giggles and stolen kisses left in your wake. You open the door, Matthew’s hands still toying your bathing suit top, “Just take it off already Matty.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Matthew breathes, his lips pressed against your neck while the garment falls to the floor, “So fucking beautiful.”

You back hit the mattress, Matthew’s hands running up your body slowly. Slow wasn’t in Matthew’s vocabulary, but he was taking his time just in case he never got this opportunity again. His fingers hooked under your bathing suit bottoms, sliding the wet fabric down your legs. You looked so beautiful, spread out just for Matthew like he’d dreamed about numerous times. His lips moved down to your breasts, teeth grazing against your skin while his tongue swirled against your nipple. You let out a breathy moan, Matthew’s ego boosting from the sound. You plucked at his curls while his mouth moved down to where you were craving him most, a gentle kiss to your clit, “Matty, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to beg,” Matthew hums, pressing feather light kisses around your core. He stopped, gripping your thighs and looking up at you, “You sure about this?”

“Yes, please,” You whine, pussy dripping from Matthew’s hot breath fanning over it. Matthew chuckles darkly, fingers digging into your thighs when he flicked his tongue over your clit. You moan, completely unbothered by the blaring music a floor below you. Matthew didn’t seem to be bothered either, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit, living for the way you were whimpering above him, “Matty-”

“Close baby?” Matthew groans, slipping a finger inside of you and curling it. You back arched, his name falling through your lips was enough to answer his question. Your legs shook, pleasure washing over your body from Matthew and all of it just felt so right. Matthew’s lips were latched to your skin until he finally met your eyes again. He smiles softly, nudging his nose with yours while you caught your breath, “So good for me.”

“Should’ve known you were that good with your mouth with the way you run it,” You tease smiling against his lips.

“Not with you, not anymore,” Matthew promises, soft blue eyes looking into yours, he meant it. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer, he wanted you. You kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his abs and stopping where his shorts hit his waist. Matthew kicks off his swim trunks, cock springing free. You grab the back of his neck, pulling your lips to his and rolling over top of him and straddling his waist. It was criminal how good you looked on top of him, “Gonna ride me babe?”

You nod, lining his dick up your core and lowering yourself on top of him. You let out a whine, Matthew’s smug smile on full display once he realized it was because of how big he was, “We don’t have to if my dick’s too big.”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your hips, watching the way Matthew’s head fell back, smirking because he really thought he had control here. Matthew’s hands gripped your waist, moving your hips faster. His finger flicked over your clit, causing you to lunge forward on top of him. Matthew flipped you over, wrapping a leg around his waist so he could hit your g-spot. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails leaving scratches Matthew was going to wear pride later. You were seeing stars, noises leaving your throat you’d never even heard yourself make, “Fuck, Matty, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Look at me,” Matthew grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours and watching while your eyes roll back with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around him, his own cum spilling into you from the sensation, a loud groan following. Matthew pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cock still buried inside of you, “I wasn’t bullshitting you, I mean every word Y/N.”

“Matthew,” You whisper, running a finger along his back, “The distance…”

You didn’t mention everything, the way that if this was real it meant it would end up ripping you both apart. You were set to live in a different city, Matthew all the way in another country. The way your dreams included a spot on the U.S. National team, and the idea that wanting to be with Matthew would hold you back was terrifying. The way his dreams probably meant staying in Calgary forever, a C on his jersey and a cup over his head. It wasn’t going to be easy, you weren’t ever going to be the doting girlfriend he probably needed. There would be years of travel schedules and games that overlapped, and a part of you thought that maybe Matthew wouldn’t be able to do it. You’d get a year in and he’d find someone who would be there more and finally you’d end it.

“We can make it work, baby I want you, I always have and I probably always will,” Matthew starts, baring his soul to another person for the first time in his goddamn life, “I want to support your dreams and have you be there for mine. I’m all in here, I don’t know how else to tell you.”

“Can I have some time?” You plead, holding onto Matthew’s shoulders because you knew he could leave and tell you to never speak to him again. Matthew sighs, understanding the way you were shitting yourself about starting your own professional career, remembering the way rookie Matthew would have died before he considered settling down that first year, “Please don’t leave me-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew promises, rolling over and letting your rest on his chest, “I’ll wait for you.”

You smile, snuggling closer to him. Matthew didn’t sleep a minute that night, running every single scenario that could possibly happen with the two of you. Matthew was sure it would work out, it had to, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

So now all he could was wait.

***

You know this is creepy right?

Matthew stares at Sam, punching his teammate in the arm lightly and telling him to shut up. He had a night off in Chicago, and after four straight hours of staring at your contact in his phone, Matthew finally just bought the tickets. He’d been good at keeping his distance, you needed space and he respected you enough to try and give it to you. He wasn’t doing so hot, Matthew consuming more soccer games than hockey games at this point. It started with your first game, because how was he supposed to just pretend like it wasn’t happening? You scored too, and it took everything in his power not to call you to tell you that not only was he right, he was insanely proud of you.

And he’d been hearing it from everyone. Your sister thought it was bullshit, Taryn and Jamie almost had Matthew on a flight to Chicago ready to show up like a terrible Lifetime movie. Brady thought it was hilarious the way Matthew was simping like this for one girl. Now, his teammates were on him, wondering why on Earth their friend who historically ran through women faster than he did mouthguards could be this hung up on someone he had a crush on in middle school.

“What number is she?” Sam asks, sipping the beer he forced Matthew to buy after making him go along with this.

“Nineteen,” Matthew smiles, pointing down at you on the field. You looked so happy, warming up with one of your teammates and a bright smile on your face. It seemed like a good fit, your team and your new city, and it made Matthew’s heart grow four sizes.

“Did she choose your number?” Sam jokes and Matthew mumbles something under his breath, “What?”

“It was her number first,” Matthew admits, not wanting to ever confess to another soul that you crossed his mind when he kept that camp number. Sam howled next to him, leaning over his seat and cracking up at his teammate.

You looked out in the crowd about halfway through the game, rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things. That tuft of curls was hard to miss, not to mention you knew just how big Matthew was. He was far too into the game to realize you caught him, up in arms about a call against your team that was valid but he’d argue it wasn’t. You asked for space, and it was getting harder to stick to your guns. Especially when he was making it so clear that he wanted this.

And whether or not you went to his game the next night, was a secret you’d take to the grave.

***

You were so close you could have tasted it.

While the final seconds of your season came to a close, all you could do was hold your head in your hands and hope no one caught the tears. A semi-final loss was devastating, but a semi-final loss where there wasn’t anything you could have done differently was even worse. Every athlete had off nights, a point Keith pushed right before you left to start your season, and he was right. Unfortunately, that was this game. Your biggest fear had come true and there was nothing you could do about it now. The game was over and you weren’t moving on.

And Matthew watched it.

Matthew promised you space, and he swore he’d give you the time you needed to settle down. But, this was something he couldn’t ignore. He could tell you were off, your entire rookie season was almost perfect and watching the way you folded during this game was gut wrenching. Matthew knew better than anyone, losing sucked. So he took the chance, grabbing his phone and shooting you a text he’d been waiting to send.

Doors open in Calgary.

and I’m so fucking proud of you.

It was the very last text you saw before you went to bed that night, tossing and turning for a few hours thinking about that loss. You couldn’t stop, every bone in your body was aching and you didn’t know what to do. So you bought a flight, packed your shit and was walking down the hallway to Matthew’s apartment without a second thought. You’d left him on read, calling Brady in the middle of the night and asking for his address, who gave it to you reluctantly with a reminder that if you needed to see him this badly you should rethink the needing time thing.

Matthew let out a groan when he had a bang at his door at three in the morning. Noah definitely was trying to walk into the wrong apartment again, and Matthew was grouchy when he whipped his door open. Except it wasn’t Noah after he’d had too many. It was you, teary eyed with your shit in a suitcase and a broken heart.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” You admit, whispering something you never thought you’d say to anyone, “I just didn’t do enough-”

Matthew didn’t say a word, pulling you into a bone crushing hug and holding you as tightly as he could. You didn’t need to hear it from him, about how things were out of your control and you did your best. You didn’t want that right now, you wanted him, “Baby…”

“Everything hurts,” You whimper, finally just letting it all out. You were bruised and battered from the season, the physical pain alone was enough to upset you, let alone the loss you just took. Matthew carded his fingers through your hair, letting you soak his bare chest with your tears because he wouldn’t have it any other way. You came back to him. You came back to him when things got too tough because you trusted him to bring you some peace, and he was happy about it.

You passed out sometime after that, your tears finally running dry and the exchaustion taking over your body. Matthew woke up early the next day, grateful for the optional morning skate so he could stay with you for just a little bit longer. The sun was just starting to peek through the curtains in his room, a calm snowy morning in Calgary so the city was just a bit quieter. 

Matthew settled on breakfast, working away in his kitchen with the only thing he knew how to make. Tell her you made it, his mom’s words from just a few months prior in his head while he cooked. You padded out his bedroom, one of Matthew’s god awful beer shirts hanging from your frame while you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss into his back, “It’s cold here.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Matthew hums, internally pumping his fist when he felt your lips form a smile against his skin. You turned your head, pressing your cheek against his against and letting out a laugh, “What’s so funny?”

“You framed my jersey?” You ask, your eye catching a jersey that was way too familiar. It was hung up beside Matthew’s from his first all star game, both number nineteens staring back at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my favorite player,” Matthew hums, a blush covering his cheeks, “I’m so proud of you.”

“You keep saying that,” Matthew finally turns around, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

“I’ll keep saying it long after we both retire,” Matthew speaks, words clear and sure because he’s had plenty of time to practice this one, “I’ll say it when you win a World Cup gold, I’ll say it when we have kids, I’ll say when you play at the Olympics. I’m going to say it over and over again.”

“But…” You trail off, all of those same demons you’d been fighting when it came to your whatever this was with Matthew, “What I’m not around enough for you?”

Matthew knew what you were thinking about, he’d thought about it plenty too. There were countless sleepless nights where all he did was wonder if you’d find someone in Chicago who could support you better than he could. He’d do his best, he swore he would, but in order for you to be happy, your passion came first. There was always going to be times when he couldn’t be there and it killed him.

“You’re more than enough,” Matthew promises, his lips ghosting over yours, “I want you to seize every opportunity in the world, I just want to be there to tell you that I love you and use the goat emoji on Instagram when you do.”

You let out a laugh, Matthew’s smile wide enough to see his dimples you loved so much, “I think I want to stay a little while.”

“I think you should,” Matthew agrees, capturing your lips in his, “Besides I’m playing tonight and I think I need to show off now.”

“You’re a cocky asshole.”

“But now I’m your cocky asshole.”

***

One year Later

You had a good reason to be late.

You swore Matthew couldn’t possibly be mad at you for this one. You’d missed your flight to Calgary, a few days post a second loss in the semi finals that you’d been taking much better this time around. Mainly because Matthew wasn’t there, but his stupid smile and words of encouragement where there on facetime hours later. That wasn’t the reason you were late, the reason you were late was because you’d received the most insane news of your life and it was an important phone or that flight. You’d caught the next one, legs shaking not to just call him and share the news, but you needed to tell him in person.

You’d finally gotten by the doors to the locker room entrance, out of breath from spriting there from your cab. There was Matthew, tapping his phone and staring at the clock on his phone with furrowed eyebrows. He was still in his suit, tie pulled a little looser, a nervous habit you realized he had some time ago, “Matty-”

“Don’t call me that just because you know you’re late,” Matthew huffs, already ready for the pout that would have followed so he’d forget all about the fact that you promised you’d make it on time. He holds his hand out, waiting for the handshake he made up in the car on the way to the first game you went to after he finally locked it down. You laugh, slapping your hand against his and letting him pull you closer for a kiss.

“They want me on the National Team,” You mumble against his lips, the words spilling out of your mouth when you pull away with an excited smile. Matthew stood there stunned, while you shuffled your feet in the little dance you did when you were really happy. He grabs your cheeks, pressing kisses to your lips again and again.

“We’re celebrating after this, holy shit,” Matthew cheers, still stunned by your news, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, now go score a few goals so we have even more to celebrate,” You kiss him one more time, pushing him before the door before he was late.

“Anything I do seems unimportant now!” Matthew calls out, a light laugh to his voice as he watched you walk away to go sit in the stands.

And that’s how Matthew thought it should be.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[takuyakistall]

to yuu.

Note: I wanted to write short HCs for each character as they wrote the letter when I finished reading everyone's thank you messages (◕ᴗ◕✿) ! All of them are very cute and I couldn't help but get some midnight rot so I had to write it down. Here's the link to the post where every message is listed down. Before you start reading, just a heads up, most of these are written in a romantic light. I also recommend reading the letters themselves first before heading here.

Characters: All students + Grim (Excluding Ortho)

Riddle Rosehearts

"Dear friend," Riddle thought that it was the most appropriate way to address you—or at least, that's what his brain is trying to make him think. Ever since overblotting and you helping him snap out of his frenzy, he had difficulty in labeling what exactly you were to him.

Before everything, you were supposed to be just a mere acquaintance to him and yet here you were sending him gifts out of the blue. The general "rule" towards receiving gifts was to give the giver your thanks. Albeit the better option was to thank you personally, he thought that maybe a letter would be better so that he can sort out his thoughts.

Friend. He nodded, proceeding to write down the rest of his message until he realized that this was an opportunity to invite you to tea with him under the pretense of paying you back for the gift. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he continued writing.

Surely, you would accept his invitation, right?

Trey Clover

"Hey you," was that too casual? Too rude sounding? Trey shook his head as he stared at the two words. He hadn't been expecting a gift from you and frankly, he was more than a bit surprised. Though perhaps he hadn't read the "gift" part when he suddenly started writing down questions about what you liked.

He immediately started thinking of how he should pay you back—gifts? He doesn't know your taste that well. Favours? Hmm, he's not too sure about that one. That's why he decided to ask, if there was something you wanted—he'll do his best to find it for you. A tempting offer, right?

It seems like you have to tell him that this wasn't a trade.

Cater Diamond

"Helloooooo," he started off. The extra amount of Os he used was proof that he's trying to take this occurrence casually. Though in the inside he was absolutely beaming. Gifts never fail to put a smile on his face, especially if it came from someone you didn't expect to give you a gift or someone special to him.

In this case, it was probably the latter. He took a small break as he stared at your gift, wondering what he should write. A small smile took over his face as he picked up his phone and snapped a few selfies of him with your gift with a caption before hitting the post button.

"Received a gift from a dear friend, isn't it amazing? ♪"

Deuce Spade

"Friend," Deuce rarely got to experience receiving gifts from friends to one another judging how his past years were spent as a delinquent. To say that he was happy to receive one from you was an understatement, he was over the moon.

He felt the need to mention it to you with a huge grin on his face. He thought of various ways to give you something back as he let out a small hum, he felt like he was having a field day. He signed the message and told himself that today was going to be a great day.

Ace Trappola

"Hey you," Ace was terribly suspicious of the fact that you sent him a gift out of the blue. Were you trying to buy him silence over something you did? Were you trying to convince him to do your homework for you? A lot of questions springed up inside his mind but not once did he think that it was just a genuine, sweet gift with no ulterior motives hidden beneath.

He knew that you would get mad at him if he continued to suspect you so he said that he was kidding in all caps with three dots after that—which didn't help his situation at all.

He felt awkward trying to convey his feelings like this and he ruffled his own hair as he told you that he just needed to tell you something later, when you're face-to-face. That would make it easier for him to speak.

Leona Kingscholar

"Good day," Leona uncharacteristically typed. He felt like he was being held at gunpoint by his past etiquette teachers as he tried to think of an appropriate response. If it were up to him, he would've just slapped a "thank you" on a piece of paper and asked Ruggie to give it to you.

Though he thought that perhaps it was better for him to actually put in effort for once. Even if it seemed like his so called effort seemed like something he just stole from the internet—that was more than enough, right? He'll just put his signature at the bottom and ask Ruggie to give it to you.

Ruggie Bucchi

"Hey you," a big grin took over his face as he wrote down his first few words. He wasn't as experienced as other people when it came to writing down messages of gratitude, he once tried consulting Leona about it—asking how to make it sound decent only to be met with an answer that went like: "Just put whatever."

And that's what he did! Truly, he's thankful for receiving a gift. For a split second, he wondered if he should share it with the people back in his homeland. Though he pushed that thought to the back of his head as he signed the bottom of the paper with his signature. He'll figure that out once he gives the letter to you.

Jack Howl

"Friend," he doesn't know what to say it's embarassing. Even in letters, he still manages to retain that straightforward yet somewhat roundabout personality of his. A tinge of embarrassment seeping through the letter.

He wished he could've just talked to you in person instead but alas, he was stuck here trying to rack his brain for words. In the end, he felt like it was best to keep it simple—the slightly demanding tone at the end was the result of him getting flustered at the thought that it's possible that it could be a date between the two of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

"My dear friend," Azul couldn't count the number of times he had crumpled a piece of paper and threw it into the trashcan only to get a new one—rinse and repeat. Jade and Floyd had to stifle their laughter when they saw how distressed he was over a single message. Though, perhaps that was the fruit of his unconventional feelings towards the giver.

He didn't want to sound too stiff and professional to the point that he sounded like a robot but also, he didn't want to sound too casual to the point that you might find it weird. He had to let out a small sigh as he ruffled his hair, another piece of paper thrown into the trash can before deciding that he should just play it safe and give you a free drink.

Jade Leech

"To my dearest," oh no. His hand slipped and accidentally made his greeting more intimate than it should be, he could go back and change it but—fufu, where's the fun in all of that? His lips tugged up into a smirk as he continued writing, knowing full well that what he was implying would evoke an interesting reaction out of you. But, if that wasn't enough to stir you up a bit then why not put a little more something? He was a prick this way.

He spotted an empty space on one of his shelves in the corner of his eye, glancing at it for a few seconds before an idea popped into his head. A smile that barely showed off his sharp canines, hidden beneath his gloved hand.

"Truly. Would I lie to you?"

Floyd Leech

"Little shrimpy," he grinned. Floyd was in an especially good mood today after receiving such a thoughtful gift from you. He played with his pen in hand, spinning it around as a distant look took over his face when he tried thinking about the reason why you gave him a gift out of nowhere.

Knowing that Floyd pays a little more attention to you than others, he was bound to be curious and he was more than eager to find out—there's always a reason behind someone's actions, after all. He tried expressing his intent to get the answer out of you which came out a little threatening but if you saw the look on his face there's no mistaking that it was an even bigger threat than you initially thought.

Kalim Al-Asim

"Hey love," Kalim was as straightforward as ever. Not a single filter as he wrote down his raw feelings. There was no reason for him to hesitate especially now that he was practically about to shake from pure joy—he was incredibly close to signing the letter and hopping into his magic carpet to give it to you personally but Jamil was there beside him to stop him if he ever does that.

Though that didn't mean that it was gonna stop him from wanting to ask you out on a magic carpet date with him, he'll just have to explain to Jamil when you accept his invitation. That is assuming you'll accept, right?

Jamil Viper

"Dear friend," Kalim practically forced him to write a letter back to you. Jamil wasn't an ingrate, he knew when to show gratitude when it was appropriate but he preferred thanking you in person. He had to settle for this in the meantime, he thought that maybe he'll just invite you to Scarabia to talk about what he could give in return.

He hadn't really expected a gift from you, especially with all the trouble he might've caused you due to his overblot. Though he didn't think it was all that bad. In fact, he felt a little relieved that you didn't hold any grudge against him.

Vil Schoenheit

"My dear," Vil had an unmistakable smirk placed upon his lips. The choice of words he wrote managed to give out a slightly smug vibe as he stared at your gift on his desk. Impressed by your ability for finding him a suitable gift, he decided to give you a little bit in return.

His smirk slowly turned into a gentle smile as he imagined your face probably tearing up at the thought of him giving you a signed card, he couldn't help but put an offhanded comment near the end. But it was quickly followed up with a single bit of rare praise from him.

Rook Hunt

"Hey love," Rook was always one to act dramatically whenever he had the chance and even in letters, he managed to sound dramatic. As soon as he realized that you had sent him a gift he started gushing about how wonderful it was and how inspiration was raining down on him like tiny droplets.

What's a better way to let his raw emotions out than poetry? That's right, this man wrote you a poem expressing how he feels because of your gift. He almost forgot to say his gratitude because he got carried away but thankfully, Epel pointed it out to him before he could give it to you.

Epel Felmier

"Dear friend," he rarely got any gifts from anyone outside his relatives so when he saw you give him a gift, he was excited to say the least. There's always a certain joy you can evoke in a person when you give them a gift it was almost euphoric for some. He thought that it was sweet of you to give him a gift and decided to give one back with a small message.

Friend. For some reason, it felt a bit off addressing you as that but he quickly shook his head and shot down that thought. As for his gift, he prepared a little something he made himself. Hehe, he's quite proud of it too!

Idia Shroud

"@YOU" it was interesting how Idia didn't bother changing to formal speech when he decided to give you a thank you message for your gift. He's typing the same way he would to his friend, namely "Crimson Muscle", but perhaps that was because he didn't know of any other way to talk to you without sounding unnatural or weird.

People would normally not even think about giving him something and yet you gave him one. He couldn't help but smile a bit when he said how you were a bit of an oddball—he came up with various nicknames for you inside his head. Most of them being different words for the term "weirdo". Yet they always had a hint of affection whenever he would think of it.

Malleus Draconia

"Dearest," Malleus started off. It was rare that he received gifts from people outside his family or nobles back in the Valley since a lot of people found him intimidating—terrifying for some, even. He was glad that you felt comfortable enough around him to show simple gestures such as these. Upon receiving your gift, Lilia noticed how it came from you and urged Malleus to write his thank you message differently from how he usually writes it.

Did you perhaps know of the legends surrounding the Thorn Witch...? If so, then maybe he could sneak in a little joke. The gift of beauty and the gift of song—ah, nevermind. He pursed his lips slightly, he'll just handpick a gift for you himself. A small gargoyle statue, maybe. Or he could ask the other members of Diasomnia to help him.

Lilia Vanrouge

"My dear," his lips formed a small smirk. Lilia appreciated all surprises, big or small. Though, in particular, something about your surprise gift made him more excited about it than usual. Was that just his old age getting to him or was it something else? He couldn't be bothered to think about it that much.

As a form of gratitude, he weighed his options. It was either giving you a gift back or letting you ask a favour of him. He thought the latter would be more acceptable until an idea popped into his head as his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He knew you didn't know what it exactly meant but he gave you his signature nonetheless—he'll leave you to figure out.

Silver

"Hey you," Lilia taught Silver that it was common courtesy to show gratitude when someone gives him a gift. He tried thinking of countless ways to say thank you with his old man bugging him to ask you out on a date instead in the background. In the end, he paid Lilia no attention and instead went with the standard short message and giving a gift back.

He urged himself not to fall asleep as he typed out his message even though he already let out a yawn without him noticing. He glanced at the screen blankly, wondering if he forgot to add anything until he slowly felt himself snoozing off. Head resting on the keyboard and typing out whatnot. When Lilia arrived at the scene, he didn't bother waking him up and just sent the message as it is.

Silver was so embarassed the next day and refused to talk to Lilia temporarily.

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human," he didn't even try addressing you as anything else other than that even in letters. When he found a gift lying by his room, he was a tad suspicious but loosened up when he read the tag attached to it. As stated, it came from you and the gift was meant for Malleus—wait, what. Sebek scrunched up his face as his eyes scanned the words printed on it.

"To Sebek Zigvolt" This was a mistake, right? Sebek was a bit flushed but quickly shook it off by saying how it was probably a subterfuge or whatever that was. There was no way it was for actually for him, right? Surely, you must've sent this in hopes of hearing more about the great Malleus Draconia. Right?

That is... Wonderful!

Grim

"Dear underling," it was cute how he made an effort to write you a letter despite being in the same dorm wherein he could just talk to you directly. But perhaps he was so touched to the extent that he wanted to do this—did you give him tuna? He struggled thanking you properly and ended up boasting about how he was going to be the greatest sorcerer.

Even though he called you underling at first, he couldn't help but soften up a bit. That didn't sit right with him somehow, he didn't know why. He let out a groan as he racked his head for a more appropriate word until-!

Partner... Sounds about right.

#twst #twisted wonderland #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #Scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #deuce spade #ace trappola #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #idia shroud #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Wednesday

Monday     Tuesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, getting outed, f slur and d slur, homophobia, puking, toxic friends

Word count: 5,160

(A/N): woah, thank you all so much for all the positive feedback, that really makes my day! 

The room was quiet with the exception of the clacking of the keyboard and the soft chirping of crickets outside your open window. The stars twinkled in the sky as the night droned on and on. There was a loud rustling outside your window, but your sleep deprived mind didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t important at the moment, the only important thing right now was finishing your work. 

Throughout the night, you worked endlessly on your friend’s work. The essays were relatively easy because Adrian and Annie had luckily chosen topics that you’re somewhat interested in, so at least finding the sources was enjoyable. You had gotten your essay completely written and proofread, Annie’s outline finished, and Adrian’s sources analyzed. You would start on Sammy’s presentation after you finished Adrian’s outline. Hours upon hours passed by you as you worked, yet you didn’t notice the time once. You worked uninterrupted with no breaks. Well, one break to talk to your dad about how you weren’t hungry, but you got back to work right after he left your room. You couldn’t waste any more time than you already have.

Your eyes felt heavy as you typed on your keyboard, working on putting Adrian’s sources together cohesively so that the writing would flow seamlessly. You paused your typing to rub at your tired eyes so you could keep working, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep. You had to get these done as soon as possible if you wanted their forgiveness. 

The blaring of your alarm startled you out of your focus, making you fall backwards out of your chair with a yelp. Landing painfully on your back, you laid on the floor trying to calm your racing heartbeat. You looked out your window. Hints of pinks and yellows were starting to make a gradient with the lightening dawn sky. Shit, you were so focused on getting your work done that you didn’t take account of the time. You just knew today was gonna be long. At least after school volleyball practice was shortened because of finals tomorrow. 

You groaned as you pulled your tired form off from the ground. You made your way downstairs and plopped yourself down at your usual place at the table, burying your face into the crook of your arm. You felt yourself drift off into a blissful sleep, the wood of the table suddenly seemed very comfortable at the moment. Not long after, you were jolted out of your peaceful sleep by a loud crash. Jumping up and looking around with wide eyes, you saw Tubbo looking at you apologetically. There was broken glass in front of his feet on the floor. 

“Sorry, (y/n).”

You just stared at him blankly as you slowly blinked. Philza didn’t spare you a glance as he whisked the short boy away from the glass. “(Y/n), can you please go get the broom and sweep this up?”

You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet and walked over to the storage closet, pulling out the broom and dust pan. You mindlessly sweeped up the glass, your limbs feeling heavy. After throwing the glass away, you rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a mug. The bitter smell beckoned you welcomingly, working its way through your nostrils and digging itself deep into your brain. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup, a hand snatched the coffee pot away from you. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“You let Techno and Wil drink it, so why can’t I?”

“(Y/n), you’re a full year younger than them and you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m only a year younger than them! There’s literally no-”

“(Y/n),” his warning tone cut you off, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, “you aren’t going to drink this. That’s final. Get a glass of water.”

You huffed and pushed past him to the sink to fill your coffee mug with water. You’ve been drinking coffee for a while behind his back, so you were used to its effects on your body. You supposed that you’d just beg Wilbur to take you to the cafe so you could get your sustenance. He always relented for you. 

You heard him chuckle, “you’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“Mhm.”

You plopped down next to Tubbo nursing your mug of water, trying to make small talk with him. One by one, your brothers made their way to the table. Tommy was talking and gesturing wildly to Tubbo like he normally did, Wilbur looked as dead inside as you felt, and Techno made it a point to ignore you. When someone pissed him off, he can hold a grudge better than he could hold onto his knowledge of Greek mythology, and that’s saying something. Man is obsessed with Greek mythology. 

Breakfast went by in a daze with you struggling to keep your eyes open. At one point, you almost fell asleep sitting up, only to be woken up by Tubbo shaking your shoulder to get your attention. When breakfast was almost done, you had only eaten about half your breakfast. 

Drifting off again, you were startled awake by the screeching of the chairs against the wooden floor and loud shouts coming from your brothers. You didn’t have the energy to race them to the bathroom like you usually did, you’d just freshen up after they were done. You tried to stand up to go to your room to get dressed, but you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder forcing you to sit back down. Looking up, you were met with the concerned, yet stern eyes of your father. 

“You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten at least a few more bites and tell me why you’re so tired.”

“I just stayed up later than I normally do finishing up some homework, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not or else I will make you stay home next time. When’d you go to bed last night?”

You avoided his eyes, “around one thirty or two.” You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t actually go to sleep last night, he’d flip. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Shit.

Looking him in the eye, you spoke more confidently. “Three in the morning.”

“(Y/n)-”

You felt a sudden rage start to twist inside you as he started to lecture you about taking better care of yourself. He was treating you like a child and you were not having it. 

“-young kids like you need to- are you even listening?”

You set your jaw and willed yourself not to explode at him. “Dad, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself.”

You saw him narrow his eyes and purse his lips in frustration, “well, obviously you don’t if you’re not eating or sleeping well,” his eyes softened. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t because I’m fine,” you snapped at him. “I’m going to get ready.”

You stalked out of the room and stomped upstairs. Passing a shocked Tommy and Tubbo, you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. The person that stared back at you in the mirror looked pale and had dark eye bags accentuating her tired eyes. She had red pimples dotting her face more than she usually did. She was ugly, revolting. The girl you remembered her being was confident in her appearance and walked with an air of importance. Now, she was a decrepit thing that was run down and scared of her own shadow. You couldn’t recognize the girl that stared back at you anymore. You should’ve been able to;  after all, she was you and you were her.

You rushed through your morning routine in the bathroom avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bathroom door only to be met with Wilbur’s chest, his hand poised in the air in a closed fist ready to knock on the door. He stepped back.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wil, we still have twenty minutes before school starts. We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”

He gave you a smirk, “well, you want coffee, don’t you? You look dead.”

“Oh thank god. I feel dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Christ, (y/n) I knew you were a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes, walking around him and into your room. You felt a stab of hurt in your heart. “Fuck you.”

Before you could close the door, he shouted out a cheeky “love ya too (y/n)!”

You took off all your clothes slowly and stood in front of your open closet deciding on what you should wear today. You figured that since you felt like absolute shit, you should probably put a little bit more effort into your appearance. Picking out your favorite flannel shirt and favorite pair of pants. Smiling at yourself in the mirror in your room, you felt slightly more confident in your appearance. You felt like you could walk around the hallways at school without as many peering eyes trying to figure out your every secret. But maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. You tend to be more impulsive and emotional when you’re sleep deprived.

You slung the backpack onto your back with less difficulty than in the previous days. Your back was healing faster than you thought it would. Now, it barely hurt and the swelling completely went away.

You went downstairs and slunk past the kitchen where Philza was talking to Tommy and Tubbo. You didn’t want them to notice you, you felt somewhat guilty for snapping at your dad. You slipped through the front door and hopped into the passenger seat next to Wilbur. You three usually rotated seats counterclockwise and took turns driving each day. Now, you were just waiting for Techno.  

“Well, you look less homeless today.”

“Thanks Wilbur, I just felt like looking a little nicer than usual.”

“Who’re ya dressing up for? Is it Adrian?” He asked with slight disgust. He hated Adrian almost as much as he hated Annie and Sammy. He thought he was nothing more than a fuckboy looking to get into your pants. Little did he know you were secretly a raging lesbian so deep in the closet that you’re froliking with Aslan through the flowerfields of Narnia.

“Wilbur, I’m gay why would I-” you froze, cursing your sleep deprived self for lacking a filter. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt anxiety start to seep into your veins and pump around your body, filling every single nook and cranny with dread. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shaking hands horrified at yourself. How could you just… just out yourself like that? How could you be so careless? So stupid?

You barely felt it when Wilbur reached over to press a gentle hand on your arm. “(Y/n), are yo-”

“I-tha-that was a joke, I’m not gay, I’m straight.” Your words came out in frantic jumbles, desperately trying to fix your slip up. Oh god, you really fucked up this time.

“(Y/n), brea-”

“I swear I’m not gay, I like men, I do. I-”

“(Y/n), breathe with me.” Wilbur’s firm, yet gentle voice demanded. He placed your hand on his chest and took in a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. You tried your best to follow him, but after about ten minutes, you were slowly but surely calming down. It was a lot faster calming down from a panic attack when you had someone helping you breathe. You’ve never gotten help with a panic attack before, it was nice. Becoming more aware of your surroundings, you took notice of the soft fabric of Wilbur’s sweater, the gentle thumping of his heart, and his worried expression. You also became aware of the extra hand rubbing small circles into your shoulder from behind your seat. It was Techno.

Taking in a shaky breath, you took your hand out of Wilbur’s grip and clasped your hands tightly in front of you, shrugging Techno’s hand off from your shoulder. 

“...Can we please leave? I don’t want Dad or Tubbo and Tommy seeing me like this.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. At the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction of the school. “Wilbur, where are we going? The school’s the other way.”

“We’re going to the cafe for some coffee, my treat.”

“But school starts in five minutes, we’re gonna be late if we go to the cafe.”

“Actually,” Techno’s deep voice chimed in, “school started ten minutes ago. If we’re already late, there’s no harm in skipping first block.”

“Tech, I literally have no idea what’s going on in stats.”

“I’ll give you my notes.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Wilbur pulled into the cafe’s parking lot, “don’t be stupid, (y/n). You can never bother us.”

You didn’t say anything as you left the car and headed into the cafe. You could think of plenty of ways you could bother your older brothers. You bothered everybody just by being in their presence. You just had that effect. 

Your brothers followed you into the cafe, glancing at each other worriedly. You three quickly got your orders and sat in the secluded back of the cafe. Soft jazz music drifted throughout the quiet cafe. 

“(Y/n), we need to talk about what happened. Was this your first panic attack?” Wilbur asked you gently.

“...No, I’ve had them before.” 

“Were they always this intense? You’re still shaking.”

“That one was nowhere near as intense as the ones I usually have.’

“Usually? Do you have them often?” Tecno asked.

“Yeah, usually a couple of them a week since the middle of freshman year. Nothing I can’t manage.”

“So you’ve been doing this on your own for three years? You could’ve gotten us to help you.” 

You sighed, looking down at your steaming cup. “...I couldn’t’ve. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys could help me, but I-I just couldn’t. No one was supposed to find out.”

“Promise us that you’ll come to one of us when you have an attack. We care about you, (y/n).”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

The table fell into a comfortable silence as you all sipped at your drinks, the comforting taste of the bitter coffee dancing across your tongue.

“Ya know, we don’t care that you’re gay. A lesbian called me ‘actually pretty funny’ once and I’m still riding the high.” 

“Yeah, you’re still you. Nothing changes the fact that you’re our little sister.” 

You smiled as you felt warm inside. You knew your brothers loved you, but you didn’t know that they loved you for being you. You didn’t think anybody loved you unconditionally like that, and that made you feel genuinely happy.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I-I can’t put into words how much that means to me, I love you guys so much!”

“We love you too,” Wilbur smiled before he dropped it into a stern frown. “But if any girl hurts you, we’ll have a stern talking to her.”

“Yeah, we can’t beat up girls. We’ll put her in her place alright.” You snorted into your coffee, almost spilling it on yourself. Quickly setting it down before you could baptize yourself with the scalding liquid (though, you did consider coffee to be holy), you wiped at your teary eyes. 

“And that’s why I love you guys.”

“We’re serious, she’ll be wishing she got beat up after we’re done scolding her.” Wilbur said seriously before he broke into a grin and started laughing. 

The conversation carried on about your sexuality, how you found out, when you found out, if you’ve told anyone yet (they were honored that they were the first people you’ve told, even if you did it accidentally mid-panic attack). Eventually you had to go back to the school before your second block started. You three split ways to your separate classrooms. 

Annie and Adrian were locked onto you as soon as you walked through the door. They looked angry at you. What’d you do this time to piss them off?

“Where the fuck were you this morning? We were looking everywhere for you,” Annie seethed.

“Yeah, you wasted so much of our time looking for your sorry ass. You ditch us again?”

Oh, that. “Look, I didn’t mean to skip out on you guys again. It was a rough morning.” 

“That’s funny because we also had rough mornings, yet we still hung out with each other. You aren’t special.” Adrian rolled his eyes at you.

“It’s gonna take more to apologize. We don’t let things like the little stunts you pull go off scott free.”

“Oh, Annie I have the best idea,” Adrian squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. 

“What is it Dri?” Annie’s eyes shone.

“Our little (y/n) can set you up with one of her brothers and she can go on a date with me on a double date! It’s foolproof, not even someone as dumb as (y/n) could fuck it up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good id-”

“It’s perfect Dri! Can it be with Wilbur? He’s literally so hot! Oh, the way his fingers can work that guitar…” Ew. The thought of Wilbur and Annie together made you scrunch up your nose with disgust.

“I’m sorry, but Wilbur’s actually dating Sally Fishmin right now. They’re actually really cute together-”

“God, how could someone as hot as Wilbur go for Sally Fishmin? She’s disgusting, always smells like fish,” Annie gagged, then gasped. “Wait (y/n) do you actually think that she’s more deserving to be with him than I am?”

“No, I nev-”

“Really? Cuz you just did. Glad to see you care about me, (y/n).”

“Annie, you’re literally so beautiful. I never said that you don’t deserve him. You deserve the world. I can’t split them up, but I can do more homework for you.” She perked up immediately, “awe, thanks love! That’s what happens when you actually put effort into how you look.”

“Speaking of, did you get that shirt out of the trash? It’s really not a look.” Adrian snickered to himself. There goes what little confidence you had. You actually thought you looked decent today. You felt grateful for your friends, they always told you the truth about how you looked when everybody else lied to you. 

Before you could respond, the bell rang and everybody took their seats. Luckily, Mr. Todd assigned today as a work day for your final research essays. You had finished Annie’s and got Adrian’s thesis done before the bell rang. While you were working on their essays, they were mindlessly scrolling on their phones and texting someone. 

You, Adrian, and Annie met up with Sammy and went into the lunch room. You tried to line up in the lunch line with them, but they laughed and told you that you’re fat enough and you needed to lose weight. What did you do to deserve such considerate friends? You really owed them one for always looking out for and putting up with you.

While you were waiting for them, you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, Haley texted you a screenshot of her conversation with Unknown. You felt a chill run down your spine. All four pictures were of you. You rubbing your eyes as the light of your computer provided the only light in the room. Your bare back facing the camera as you stood in front of your closet this morning. You sleeping a day ago (you felt sick as you realized that whoever took the picture was standing directly over your bed). Lastly, you and Haley holding each other’s hand under the moonlight last night. Attached to the pictures, Unknown had typed “you have one more day or else sleeping ugly gets it. Do not tempt us.”

Hales : )

(Y/n), how the hell did they get these pictures of you

Did you seriously leave your window open???

Why wouldn’t you close your curtains

Oh god, do you think they saw us in your driveway????

(Y/n)

Haley calm down 

Hales : )

I know you’re not telling me to calm down right now

You have a stalker

One that can GET INSIDE YOUR ROOM

(Y/n)

We’ll get to the bottom of this

Like I said, I don’t care if my pictures get leaked

I care about your pictures

Until we figure out who’s doing this, we need to lay low

Hales : )

Hanging out last night was a mistake

I shouldn’t have gave you a ride

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you

I’m straight

And you are too

You said it yourself

We can’t talk anymore (y/n)

(Y/n)

I’m not straight Hales

I’m gay

And I like you

Like

Like you like you

Hales : )

I’m sorry (y/n)

But I’m straight

We can’t talk anymore

Goodbye.

With each text she sent you, you felt your heart drop deeper and deeper into your stomach until you felt your heart shatter in your chest, the pieces lodging themselves deep within you and ripping you open from inside out. How could you be so stupid to think that soemone as perfect as Haley Andrews, arguably the prettiest girl in the senior year, go out with (y/n) Minecraft, a known trainwreck. Annie’s shrill gasp sounded right next to your ear, making you gasp and drop your phone onto the table with a loud bang.

“OH MY GOD (Y/N) YOU’RE A FAGGOT? WERE YOU HITTING ON ME EARLIER? YOU FUCKING PERVERT.”

The entire cafeteria fell into silence as they listened to Annie’s shrieking. Whispers started to meld together.

“(Y/n)’s gay?”

“How gross”

“Damn, I was gonna hit it”

“We have a dyke going to this school?”

You felt like you were suffocating as the whispers and Annie’s yelling jumbled together in a disorienting cacophony. Adrian and Sammy both glared at you from behind Annie with a hatred that you didn’t know they had for you. You tried stuttering an apology, but you were quickly shut up by Annie harshly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t wanna hear it, fag. You’re going to finish our essays and you’re never gonna talk to us again. Do you understand me?” When you didn’t respond, she slapped you again. “I asked you, do you understand me?” 

You frantically nodded your head, grabbed your backpack, and sprinted out the door without any real destination in mind. You sprinted before you found the bathroom that nobody used. Ducking into a stall and slamming the door, you felt yourself start to hyperventilate. You couldn’t feel anything except for the tightness of your chest. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You faintly tasted bile rising up in your throat as you bent over to empty your stomach. You threw up everything in your stomach until you were left sitting on the dirty floor painfully dry heaving. 

You sobbed on that floor for what felt like hours. Everybody knows your secret now. Your dirty, dirty secret. God, you were a pervert weren’t you? You made people around you comfortable by just being you. Faintly, you felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket, your shaky hands scrambling to fish it out. They were all texts from your brothers.

Wilby

(Y/n) I heard what happened

Are you okay????

Please answer me

Where are you

Technology Sword

I’m gonna kill them

I swear to god they’re dead

Blood for the blood god

(Y/n)

Pls dont do anything or hurt anyone

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

Wilby

Tell us where you are

(Y/n)

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

You silenced your phone and put it back into your pocket, once again feeling yourself start to dry heave again. Your sobs and gags echoed throughout the bathroom. This is by far the worst panic attack you’ve had yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You heard the final bell ring and students start to rush to their lockers to get home, so you tried to muffle your shaking sobs the best you could. You had at least an hour before you had to go to volleyball practice. Until then, you would stay in the bathroom trying to ground yourself. 

Luckily, you managed to calm down to the point where you stopped crying and dry heaving. You were only shaking slightly. You felt numb and completely drained from your panic attack, practice today was going to be a struggle. You cautiously walked through the empty hallways jumping at every little noise. When you finally reached the locker room, you made a beeline past Zara and Jazzy to your locker. You pulled out your uniform and changed in one of the bathroom stalls.

Practice went by with the girls on the team giving you sympathetic looks and Haley ignoring you. Not that you noticed, you were ignoring everyone and putting all of your focus on the ball. The entire practice, you felt light headed and drained. Fortunately, practice ended right as you felt like you were going to pass out.

You changed as fast as you could and pulled out your phone.

Dadza

Come outside, I’m here to pick you up

You felt a dread pool in your stomach as you stared at the text. Did he find out? Was he going to kick you out for being gay? Wilbur and Techno wouldn’t let him do that to you, right? Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall and rushed out of the locker room and out of the school. Sure enough, your dad’s car was parked in the parking lot. You glanced over to where Haley’s car was parked last night and saw glimpses of you and her chasing each other and laughing into the night sky without a care in the world before you ripped your gaze away to stare at your walking feet.

You reached your dad’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Your dad grinned at you. “Hey hun, how was practice?”

You merely shrugged your shoulders at him. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone at the moment. You felt extremely drained.

“What’s wrong, did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“...I’m just sad that the season’s over tomorrow.”

“Don’t be sad kid,” a gruff voice coming from behind you made you jump. “That’s pussy shit.”

You yelped and whipped your head around to look at whoever said that. Your uncle’s cocky grin greeted you. You felt yourself grin back at him. 

“Uncle Schlatt!”

“The one and only.”

“How was your business trip? You’re home early.”

He rolled his eyes, “boring as hell. I’m so fucking glad I got out early, I woulda blew my brains out if I had to stay there any longer.”

“Schlatt!” Philza reprimanded him, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. I woulda!” He defended himself.

Your dad gripped the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to say it in front of (y/n).”

Schlatt scoffed, “please, she’s heard me say worse.” 

As they bickered, you felt yourself zone out as you looked out the window. Houses and street signs passed by in a blur as the car moved down the road and pulled into your driveway. You got out as quickly as you could and made your way into the house alongside your uncle and dad. As soon as your uncle walked through the door, Tubbo barrelled into him and pulled him into a tight hug. Schlatt laughed loudly and bent over to pick him up into a hug. You smiled at the father and son as Philza gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the oven to check on something cooking inside of it and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

“So what’s really wrong?”

“I already told you, I’m sad the season’s almost over.”

“It’s something more than that,” as you opened your mouth he quickly added, “and you can’t say that it’s because you’re tired. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You sighed and mimicked his actions. “...It’s just been a long day. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Without warning, he pulled you into a warm hug, your face being shoved into his shoulder and him rubbing circles into your back. “That’s okay, just talk to me when you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

That broke you. Throwing your arms around him, you started to sob into his shoulder. He started to rock you back and forth whispering reassurances into your ear. 

“That’s good, let it all out.”

“I love you so much.”

“I’m here for you.”

With each sentence to fall out of his mouth, you felt more at ease and safe. Your dad always did a great job at making people feel safe, that was just his natural talent. After a while, you pulled away from him.

“Do you feel better?”

You smiled tiredly at him, “Yeah, I really needed a hug.”

He turned around to check on dinner, “I bet, you look like you’ve been to hell and back. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know that I’m always here for you and I love you.”

The rest of the family flooded the kitchen after a while of you two talking. Dinner went by with Schlatt laughing loudly and telling stories about the people he met on his business trip. Every now and then, Wilbur and Techno would glance at you, but you ignored them. You just wanted dinner to end so you could pass out in your bed. Once dinner was over, you helped your dad gather everybody’s plate and put them into the sink. The rest of your little family went to the living room to start a game of Monopoly. The last time you all played that ended in fresh bruises and shed tears.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed, I have to get some rest for finals tomorrow.”

“But (y/n), it’s Monopoly! You love Monopoly,” Tommy exclaimed.

“That’s alright, you look dead on your feet kid. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks Uncle Schlatt. Goodnight everyone, love ya.”

A flurry of goodnights and love you’s follow you as you leave the room and drug yourself up the stairs. Without a second thought, you closed your curtains and plopped face first onto your bed. You passed out without even making sure you were fully on your bed.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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#sbi #sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #jschlatt x reader #reader is a lesbian #outed #panic attacks #toxic friends #high school au #tw: swearing #tw: panic attack #tw: homophobia #tw: getting outed #tw: f slur #tw: d slur #tw: vomit #tw: toxic friendship #tw: bullying #tw: stalking #tw: nonconsensual pictures #tw: blackmail

[reidandweep]

Something Bigger Than Us

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Hi guys, I am back after an eventful few months. Had to deal with some personal stuff, but I am back now and writing more! So, to celebrate, heres some fluff with our favourite genius!!

Word Count- 4026 words

Warnings- Fluff, mention of bodily liquids in the case, mentions of murder.

The beauty of love is that, you can fall into it with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time. - Ritu Ghatourey.

Sitting in the subway cart, Spencer indulged in the book in his hands. It had been a gift from Penelope as she had always told him he had to read more fictional works. So, there Spencer was, on his day off, travelling to the science museum and reading ‘The Maze Runner’. He was taking more time than he needed; slowing down his reading speed to prolong the story to fit his entire journey. He was so engrossed that he nearly didn’t notice the subway cart come to a stop and the doors open, a woman walking inside. What made Spencer glance up from the novel in his hands was the slight change of weight near his feet. Looking away from his novel, he didn’t expect to see said woman sitting on the subway cart floor. Spencer glanced around to see multiple seats available, yet there this person was. Sat on the ground.

“Did you want to sit here?”

Spencer had found many women pretty in his life. He had found a few to be gorgeous. But this woman, she was breath taking. As she lifted her gaze to stare into his, Spencer felt a warmth he never felt. A moment. A spark.

The woman smiled up at Spencer.

“No, it’s okay. I quite like sitting on the floor. I can feel the wheels moving more.”

Spencer looked at the woman puzzled.

She couldn’t help but let her smile grow.

“Sit down and feel.”

Spencer’s brain went blank at the woman’s request. He knew how much bacteria there was on the floor and could not imagine doing such a thing as sitting on it.

“On average, more than 9 million people ride the subway every day. That’s 18 million feet on that floor. They could have stepped in anything. The number of bacteria is unimaginable.”

The woman shrugged.

“So, that’s 18 million feet and my butt. At least I can say I enjoyed my subway ride more because I felt the wheels on the tracks.”

The warmth in Spencer’s chest spread the more he looked at her. Before he even realised, Spencer found himself sliding from his seat and onto the subway floor next to her. She was right. You could feel the wheels thumping against the tracks.

“It’s like a heartbeat.”

The woman looked at the floor of the carriage with a smile.

“People ride the subway every day and never think about how amazing it is that this thing was created. That we can hop on something that could take us wherever we desired to in our city. They treat it like it's nothing. But it moves like we do, and it stops like we do.”

The woman looked up at Spencer.

“It has a heartbeat. Just like you and I.”

In his whole life, Spencer had never heard someone describe anything in such a way that made it feel human; that made him feel so human.

“So, where are we going?”

“We?”

The woman smiled and stood from the ground, holding her hand out for Spencer to take. He did so without a thought. It was like being around her made him forget everything.

“Yes, we? I had no plans but then I met you and it seems you had plans so now I do to. So, where are we going mister…?”

Spencer straightened his satchel, his hands gripping the straps. The warmth that had spread from his chest now burnt in the hand he had held hers with for those few seconds.

“My names Spencer. Spencer Reid. I’m actually a doctor but not a medical one. I have three PHD’s and three bachelor’s Degrees, but none of them are remotely medical. I could go into that field if I wanted to but…”

Spencer stopped himself as he realised, he was rambling.

The woman leaned against the pole to her side and looked at Spencer in earnest.

“You were saying you could go into the medical field if you wanted to but…”

She was actually listening to his rambling and she even seemed to be interested.

Spencer’s hands gripped his satchel tighter.

“But I have enough to focus on with work already.”

The woman nodded her head in understanding.

“Well, Dr Spencer Reid, my name is Y/F/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N. My title is just regular old miss. Unfortunately, I have no PHDs, but I do have a bachelor’s degree in Film Studies which I’m presuming is nowhere near exciting as what you have yours in. I could never have gone into the medical field because I hated biology and preferred chemistry at school as I liked drawing the chemical equations more than learning about photosynthesis. The only part I liked about biology was learning about thalidomide, which is really grim, but it was fascinating.”

Whilst she spoke, Spencer couldn’t help but notice the movement of her hands. Her nails on her right hand were painted a different colour to the ones on her left. Just like how he wore different socks on each foot. He liked that they unknowingly matched.

“Now we are no longer strangers, I think you need to tell me where we are going?”

Spencer looked towards the doors and noticed that they were actually soon to arrive to his stop.

“I was going to visit the museum. The next stop is my one.”

Y/N looked at the door and nodded.

“Cool. So, can I join?”

Even though she had already said she was joining him twice, Spencer did not think she actually meant it. He stuttered through his words as his thoughts blazed around his head.

Y/N could see his mind going into overdrive.

“Hey.”

Spencer looked down at the shorter woman in front of him. He wondered why she seemed so worried.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I tend to come off as quite strong but something about you tells me I need to know more. I want to know more. Spend more time with you. I’d love to see the things Dr Spencer Reid, who has three PHDs and was reading one of my favourite books when I hopped on the train, had planned to see today. I will only join you if it is something you want.”

Spencer felt the subway cart come to a stop and saw the doors in his peripheral open.

He was tired of living life through the view of work before anything else. The few moments of happiness he had was taken away by not allowing himself to be spontaneous. To be with them in person. So, for the second time that day, Spencer grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hand, ignoring the facts and statistics of germs and bacteria running through his mind.

Pulling her towards the doors, the pair stepped off the subway cart and onto the platform.

People walked around the pair as they stood facing each other, staring at one another with their hands entwined.

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I would like if you would join me to the museum. I would like to spend more time with you too.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s words. With the hand still not in his grasp, Y/N lifted her arm towards the subway exist.

“Well, lead the way Dr Spencer Reid.”

Spencer did just that.

In silence the pair walked the short distance from the subway station to the museum. Their hands interlocked at their sides as Y/N looked around at the buildings by them. Spencer couldn’t help but glance towards the woman. He couldn’t understand why he felt so different with her. The warmth in his chest was still there, and it felt as though it was growing and spreading with every breath he took. His hand in her own was something he wished to never lose. It was like being enveloped in the softest blanket known to man. This stranger who sat by his feet on the subway has made him feel more comfortable and step out of his comfort zone more than any of his friends or family ever have. But why?

Coming to the doors of the museum, Spencer opened the door for Y/N to enter before him; letting go of her hand to do so. He felt empty without her hand in his. He couldn’t believe how empty his palm now felt.

“I’ve never been to this museum before.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked look on Spencer’s face. As though what she said was the most shocking thing he had ever heard.

Before she could even make a joke about his expression, Spencer suddenly turned down a corridor.

“Woah! Slow down Doc!”

Spencer slowed down his pace.

“I’m sorry. It’s just this is my favourite place and I want to show you everything it has to offer.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s bashful behaviour. She couldn’t help her own cheeks blushing at the thought that this kind man wanted to show her around his favourite place. To think she had only met him a mere hour before.

Giving Spencer’s a comforting smile, Y/N bumped her shoulder with his own.

“I have a feeling that I am going to learn a lot with you as my tour guide.”

Spencer led the way as they walked through the corridors, reciting information about each exhibit they come across, stuttering when he felt Y/N’s hands brush his own as they walked side by side.

Just as Spencer was about the point Y/N to the next exhibit, he felt her hands slowly clasp around his own. Her smooth fingers fitting perfectly into the gaps between his rough appendages.

“Is this okay?”

Spencer smiled in delight, squeezing her hand in reassurance as he pulled Y/N in the direction they had been heading.

Walking hand in hand down the hall, Spencer silently led Y/N to one of his favourite parts of the museum. As they entered the room, Y/N’s eyes could not miss the large rock exhibited in the middle of the room, people sporadically standing around the object.

“What is that?”

Spencer’s chest became warm at the look of wonder on Y/N’s face as they walked closer to the exhibit.

“That is the Willamette Meteorite. It was found in Oregon and is the largest ever meteorite found in the United States and the sixth largest in the world. The smooth surface melted during its blazing entry into the atmosphere, while the pits formed on the Earth's surface. Iron meteorites form when large enough asteroids have had molten interiors catastrophically collide with other asteroids. These huge collisions blast out material from the molten iron core of the asteroid on orbits that reach Earth after millions of years.”

Y/N continued her wonderous gaze as they let go of Spencer’s hand, walking around the meteorite, taking in every crevice and crater. Spencer could usually spend hours staring at the meteor, but right now he could not tear his haze away from Y/N as she took her time looking at the artefact.

Turning to look at Spencer, Y/N wanted to find out more.

“How was it made? Like is it a piece of something much bigger?”

Spencer looked at the meteorite that stood much taller than all of them.

“The internal structure, made of metallic iron, suggests that billions of years ago, an early planet orbiting the Sun was shattered, perhaps in a collision with another protoplanet. The fragment was probably part of the planet’s iron-nickel core. While planets, including Earth gradually formed and matured, this fragment orbited the Sun. It was hit at least twice by other planetary fragments, knocking it into a collision course with Earth. Over many centuries, rainwater interacting with its iron sulphide deposits produced sulfuric acid, which slowly etched and carved large cavities.”

Spencer waited for a response, but as the seconds passed in silence. Had he freaked her out? Had he gone too far? Spencer moved his gaze from the meteor to Y/N, to see her staring at the meteorite in awe.

“Woah.”

Spencer laughed at her exclamation. His head dipping down to try and cover his reddening cheeks.

“Woah indeed.”

Y/N couldn’t help the blush now invading her cheeks. Walking back towards Spencer, Y/N nudged the genius’s shoulder with her own, gaining his attention. Spencer turned his head to look back at Y/N.

“It’s crazy how we get to look at something that was once part of something much bigger. Something that could have housed life and all sorts of wonderous things and yet, here sits part of its core, on our planet, in one of our museums. Now a part of something much bigger again.”

Spencer and Y/N looked at each other in silence. Taking in the moment and her words. Both of them acknowledging that they too were part of something much bigger, much more meaningful than they had every thought about.

A clicking sound broke the moment.

Turning around, Spencer and Y/N both saw an older gentleman pointing a polaroid camera towards the pair.

Realising that the pair had turned around the gentleman walked up towards them and handed over the picture.

“It still has to develop.”

Y/N looked down at the picture in Spencer’s hand as it slowly developed.

“Can you take another one? Just so we can have one each.”

The man nodded at Y/N question, stepping back to where he stood before.

Y/N moved her hand to clasp Spencer’s once more, tilting her head to lay on his shoulder, a smile blossomed on her face as she looked towards the camera.

Spencer’s own gaze was fixed on her. His eyes taking in the slope of her nose and the feel of her hair tickling his neck. Usually, if he was ever this close to anyone, let alone a woman, he would start to sweat and panic. And yet, all Spencer could feel was what he could only describe as serene. Spencer had never felt serene until now.

Being shaken out of his stare by the click of the man’s camera once more, Spencer looked to see the man handing Y/N the picture as she rummaged through her bag.

“No need to pay me.”

Y/N shook her head.

“I insist.”

The man moved forward, placing his hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I gave you the picture because sometimes it is nice to look back where it all began.”

The old man looked Spencer in the eye and gave him a wink, causing Spencer to blush.

“Both of you, enjoy your day, and may I suggest if you get hungry, try Giovani’s Café down the street.”

Spencer cocked his head.

“Is it good?”

The man laughed as he walked backwards, nodded his head.

“I should know, I am Giovanni after all!”

Laughter rumbled from the pair as they watched the older gentlemen walk out the door, his polaroid camera in hand. As their laughter died, Y/N looked down at the now developed picture in her hand. Spencer in turn looked at his own.

The picture was beautiful. With the light from outside cascading through the windows, creating almost a halo of light around the pair, the meteorite had never looked bigger than when Spencer saw the back of his and Y/N’s figures standing in front of it. But what Spencer couldn’t take his eyes away from was the fact that in the picture, Y/N was not looking at the meteorite. She was looking at him. If he looked hard enough, he could see a smile on her face. So soft and so beautiful.

The comforting silence of the pair looking at their polaroids was suddenly shattered when Spencer’s ringtone filled the air. Spencer couldn’t help but let his shoulders drop in disappointment.

“I’m so sorry, I just have to take this.”

Y/N smiled in acknowledgment,

“Go ahead, I’m just going to take a look over here.”

Spencer nodded as he watched her walk across the hall, examining the pictures and their information plaques as he answered his phone.

“Hello.”

“We got a case Pretty Boy. Wheels up in 50 minutes.”

Spencer rubbed his head at Morgan’s voice.

“Okay.”

Morgan could hear the disappointment in Spencer’s tone.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Spencer kept his eyes on Y/N as he took a second to answer.

“Yeah. But I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Okay, Genius, see you later.”

Spencer hung up his phone. Walking towards where Y/N still stood, he tapped the woman on her shoulder.

As she turned, Y/N took in Spencer’s solemn look.

“Is everything okay?”

Spencer shook his head.

“Work called. I have to leave. I’m sorry.”

Y/N smiled in understanding.

“Work is work, whatever it may be. No need to be sorry. I had an amazing day that I didn’t think I would have.”

Spencer stared Y/N in her eyes, a little smile adorning his face.

“I did too. I have to go. But can we meet again?”

Y/N nodded her head, her own smile lighting her face.

“Yeah. I would like that.

Spencer grinned as he began to turn around, walking towards the corridors exit, waving as he left. He began to walk down the stairs when he suddenly heard his name.

“Spencer, wait!”

Spencer turned around to see Y/N running down the stairs towards him, polaroid in hand.

Stopping in front of him, as Y/N stood on the steps above Spencer, she was nearly as tall as the boy wonder.

“You dropped this.”

“Thank you.”

As Spencer went to reach for the picture, Y/N pulled it out of his reach.

He watched with bated breath as she carefully put the picture in the breast pocket of his jacket, tapping his jacket where the picture now safely sat.

“Now go before your boss gets angry at you for being late.”

Laughing at her truthful words, Spencer once again waved towards the girl, rushing down the steps as he looked at his watch, realising that he was going to be late. But even with that knowledge, as he opened the exit door of the museum, Spencer turned to wave goodbye to Y/N once more. Watching as she waved back, before he allowed the door to close behind him.

Spencer walked to the jet as briskly as he could, breathing heavily from the sprint through the airport, just about getting through easily with his badge.

Trotting up the steps, Spencer leaped into the jet, quickly taking the seat next to Emily, his breath heavy as he took in deep breaths.

The team ceased their conversation, all looking at Spencer in confusion and worry.

“Sorry I’m late, what’s the case?”

Spencer ignored the strange looks and elongated silence.

Hotch quickly broke it.

“We’re heading to Akron, Ohio. We got two murdered couples with the men both being found with used condoms on and Viagra in their systems. In both cases, the husbands were killed with a silenced 9-millimeter, the wife was stabbed multiple times. We’re meeting up with the Akron P.D when we get there. Everything you need is in the file.”

Spencer nodded his head as he grabbed the file from Hotch, opening the papers as the plane took off.

Briskly looking through the file, Spencer began to detail notes in his notebook about possible suspects and details the others may have missed. But as he scribbled, Spencer could feel the stares of Emily, Morgan, and JJ as they all sat by him. Fed up, Spencer lifted his head, flittering his gaze between them all.

“Can I help?”

“Why was you late?”

Spencer looked at Morgan.

“I was at the museum.”

“That’s the truth but why was you late?”

Spencer turned his eyes to Emily, confusion littering his features.

“I was at the museum, I had to get on the subway and get here.”

JJ tilted her head as Spencer looked between the trio.

The weight of their gazes quickly caused him to break.

“I was late because I was at the museum with someone.”

At his statement, everyone on the jet turned towards Spencer. Even Hotch had Spencer’s undivided attention.

Emily twisted to face the genius, a smirk on her face as she crossed her arms.

“Go on Romeo, tell us all about them.”

Spencer knew he could not get out of this. So, he began to begrudgingly tell his team about his day and the person he spent it with.

“Then after the gentleman took our picture, I got the call. I said goodbye and rushed over here.”

The team all looked at Spencer with mixtures of pride and happiness.

“Did you get her number?”

The looks soon turned to disbelief as Spencer bowed his head in shock.

“You had an amazing day with a woman you don’t know, which is something unlike you, and you failed to get her number? Pretty boy, I am very disappointed. I’ve taught you better than that.”

Shaking his head at Morgan’s playful words, Spencer couldn’t help his own disappointment take over. He can’t believe he didn’t ask her for her number. Rossi walked over and patted the man on his shoulder in reassurance.

“At least you got a picture to remember her.”

Spencer slowly nodded, solemnly reaching into his breast pocket to pull the picture out. But, as Spencer looked at the picture, he realised that she had handed him the second picture they had taken.

Spencer looked at the polaroid and couldn’t believe how comfortable he looked with her. Their hands interlaced as Y/N smiled brightly towards the camera. Spencer’s smile was directed towards the woman next time him, warm and content. He had never looked so at peace before. Yet, he still forgot to ask for her number.

As Spencer was about the place the picture back in his pocket, he paused his movement as Hotch spoke up.

“If I was you, I would check the back of that picture Reid.”

Looking at the people in front of him, he could see that they were all now smiling, looking at him expectedly, waiting for the man to look at the back of the picture. Flipping the picture over, Spencer couldn’t help the smile that blossomed over his face. His eyes crinkling from how large it was. On the back of the picture, a message was written.

“Meeting you made me feel part of something much bigger. Something I would love to explore. Give me a call if you want to as well.”

Underneath the message lay Y/N’s phone number.

Spencer lifted his head and looked around at his team. Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, he began to stand.

“I’m just going to…”

Emily pushed him up as the rest of the team laughed.

“Hurry up and call her Spence, no point in waiting!”

Spencer nodded his head in a flurry as JJ shooed him to the back of the jet.

Walking passed the team, Rossi and Derek patted him on the back, as Hotch nodded his head. They were all happy for him.

Walking into the jet’s toilet, Spencer locked the door and pulled out his phone. Flipping the picture in his opposing hand, he quickly dialled the number, clicking the call button before he could change his mind.

Just as he contemplated hanging up, the ringing stopped, and he heard an answer.

“Hello?”

“I want to be a part of something bigger. I want to explore it too.”

“Really?”

Spencer could feel the smile radiating from Y/N over the phone. A breathy laugh leaving his mouth as he realised, he was nodding his head instead of talking.

“Really.”

Spencer was not the type of person to sit in the bathroom on a plane talking to someone on the phone that he only met that morning. Even more so, having met that someone because they sat on the floor of the subway instead of the seats. Yet, here he was, in the bathroom talking to Y/N and getting to know her more. Spencer felt like the Willamette Meteorite. He had been broken and steered down different courses over the years, feeling like he would never be part of anything bigger than the family that was his team. But now, he felt like he was finally going to be a part of something bigger. Something extraordinary.

Never expected to meet you. When I met you I never expected you to become my everything and more than I could have ever dreamed of. - Maria Ana Bulquerin.

A/N- Thank you for the support. If you wish to in anyway, Please donate to the link below.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #mgg #mathew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #spencer reid x reader #mgg imagine #mgg oneshot #spencer reid one shot #derek morgan #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #jennifer jereau #david rossi #bau team #bau imagine

[thrndlngs]

three times shinsou misses the opportunity to kiss you + the one time he seized the moment.

── pairing, shinsou x fem!prohero!reader ── request: x times shinsou wants to kiss fem reader??? pLZ I NEED IT ── author’s note: this was super dope & cute to write. tysm for sending this in. i hope i did this justice and it wasn’t to out of character.  also reader has a water quirk & the two of you are in your early twenties.  ♡ 

i.

     "'toshi,” you whispered, chest against his as the two of you currently hid from the group of villains. your two agencies had partnered up in attempt to take down a new gang of villains who were transporting drugs from the city to the waters, the two of you were partnered because of how the two of you excelled in your respective agencies, shinsou was sent to aid in your patrols of the waters  ──  which is why the two of you are currently hiding in a storage closet on a ship. 

  “shut up.” you don’t take it to heart, you’re sure he means it as nicely as possible - he just lacks a few pages in the ‘vocabulary’ department. 

  “we need to do something.” you tell him, trying your best to meet his gaze in the tight space (which was nearly impossible because he’s towering over you at the moment). he doesn’t reply, not at first at least, if you looked hard enough you would probably see the gears in his head turning. 

  “──stop talking, it’s distracting me.” 

  your mouth quickly shuts, fidgety hands are now at your side, you were starting to get antsy and there was practically little to no room to move around without being heard - or seen for that matter. 

  “they switch the guards every ten minutes, in the middle of the switch, we run.” the purple haired male explained, taking a peak at the time on his cellphone. the two of you had to endure this for three more minutes. just three more minutes and you would be free.

  “three minutes,” you repeated, more to confirm this for yourself. you’re sure you wouldn’t last that long, after all, this was shinsou, the male you’ve had a crush on for quite some time now. how were you expected to last that long?

  “──think of it like seven minutes of heaven.”

  “we haven’t played that since── “

  “yeah, yeah i know, but just think of it like that. don’t think about the closet, just the game.” 

  you nodded quickly, meeting his gaze as the two of you stood there in silence. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about kissing him. it seemed like the perfect moment - it was just the two of you. if it were the last day on earth, you at least wanted to go out with a bang. you know?

  “let me get comfortable, you can do the same after.” you watched as he places either hands besides your head, slouching a bit against the wall so his back could have some sort of support. he nods to you, signaling for you to do the same. 

  it takes you a moment, the position shinsou is currently in causes your heart to skip just a few beats. were you disappointed in yourself for letting your mind drift.. elsewhere during a mission? for sure. did you care right now? absolutely not.

  you cleared your throat, widening your stance and trying to balance the weight in between your legs to help ease some of the weight  ──  but there wasn’t really much you could do.

  “two minutes.” 

   this had to be the longest three minutes of your life.

   “i think i just tasted my own sweat.” he complained. it feels like he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t produce sweat in.

  “i feel like a fish out of water,” you added.

  “──gonna start passing out if i don’t throw you in the water soon?”

  “says the one whose sweating to death.” 

  “and you’re dehydrated. guess we’re both shit out of luck aren’t we?”

  “yeah, but, i think this isn’t the worst way to die.” 

  he takes another peak at his cellphone, noting that there’s a minute left before the two of you could finally get out of this damn storage closet. “you’ve got a minute to tell me anything worse than dying like this.” 

  in hindsight ── there’s a lot that could happen in a minute, that’s the only reason you said something to begin with. “alone, i could die in this closet, alone and then you know, it would be lonely.” 

 “are you serious?” 

  “oh come on! that’s pretty serious!”

  “it ── it really isn’t,” he’s trying to laugh as quietly as possible and you playfully slapped him in his shoulder. 

 “okay, well, i wouldn’t want to die alone.”

  “mhm, scaredy cat.” his smile is infectious and for a moment, he forgets that the two of you are stuck in a storage closet. maybe now would be the perfect time to kiss you, when it’s just the two of you, waiting to make your grand escape, when the two of your are just centimeters apart. 

  “now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening himself to get out first just in case. he doesn’t want to act off of impulses. if he kisses you, he wants to make sure it’s because you want him too.

ii.

     “good to see you when you’re not acting like a goldfish who just hopped out of it’s bowl.” the familiar voice teased from behind you, hands folded behind his head. if it were anyone else, you might have tripped them.

  “──don’t you have to go buy hair dye now or something?”

  “no that was after i made sure a fisherman didn’t take you on the way home.”

  “is this what do you do on your spare time? think of jokes that revolve around my quirk?”  

  he rolls his shoulder lazily, leaning against the apartment railing across from your front door. “they come naturally, no extra thinking required.”

  “and here i thought all the hair dye went to your brain.”

   this wasn’t out of the norm for the two of you, he would make the first jab and then you would follow suit. sometimes, the bickering could go on for hours  ──  regardless of task at hand (like the time the two of you were trying to detain a villain and shinsou had told the woman you were a water sprite), it’s an old nickname of yours, he had given it to you back at the sports festival when you were kids. you had earned it when you had almost drown mineta because he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate jokes and you had brought the entire water fountain down on him. 

  as the two of you stood there in silence, you, had your back against your door, hands folded behind you while he stood parallel, arms against his chest he wonders: is this the time he kisses you goodnight? 

  “d’ya want to come inside? i have leftovers? we could pull an all nighter like we used to do back in the dorms?” there’s a hint of hopefulness in your eyes and he would feel like absolute shit if he declined the offer.

  “only because you have food.” 

  he doesn’t kiss you goodnight then. and he doesn’t kiss you goodnight when you fall asleep on his shoulder after the second horror movie either. if you were anyone else, he would’ve left without a care in the world, but it’s you and you are different. 

  so he stays and tells himself that tomorrow will be a new day and tomorrow, he can try again.

iii.

     “i don’t dance,” shinsou tells you as you so desperately tried to bring him onto the dance floor. it’s a hero’s gala, everyone from your respective classes at U.A. were here, pro heroes from all around the world and some of your old instructors as well  ──  these aren’t his thing, you know that. you remember his attitude during the first two hours of the third year’s ‘goodbye party’ - not much had changed. he’s taller, a bit more handsomer and smiles more often. 

  “you do tonight, come on.” while you had dragged him by one hand, the other desperately tried to loosen his tie because it feels like he’s suffocating. 

  “──you’ll be the death of me woman.” he’s mumbling under his breath, one hand resting in yours as the other found its place at your waist.

  “because i asked you to dance? might i say this is on your list of horrible ways to die?” you teased, offering him that infectious smile that makes him go weak in his knees. he hates to admit the pull you have on him  ──  he might even go as far as saying you might have him wrapped around that finger of yours and you don’t even know it yet.

  “if it’s by your hands i would say it’s a merciful death.”

  “a merciful death? i’ll keep that in mind.” 

  “don’t test your luck,” you know he’s only messing with you  ──  

  you’re to busy enjoying the moment to think of some witty comeback. it’s something about the way your hand seems to fit perfectly in his. or how the two of you are able to move in sync without any words spoken in between the two of you that’s driving you insane.

  if you would’ve told your past self that you would be slow dancing with the hitoshi shinsou at a hero’s gala while the world around you disappeared you would’ve laughed at the idea. it would’ve seem silly to you  ──  stupid even. shinsou and you weren’t rivals like you and bakugou were, but, you had always found yourself trying to one up him. 

  yet here you were, swaying to the slow tune as you managed to snake your arms around his midsection and rest a head against his chest. maybe this was his chance: with the little distance in between the two of you, dim lighting and dressed to the nines. surely, this would be a good memory to relive later down the road wouldn’t it? 

  but he wanted to savor the moment. so he decides it against it  ── despite the ache in his chest.

  iv.

     "we did it.” shinsou muses, an awkward hand offered in your direction for you to shake. it’s been six months but your agencies had finally shut down the smuggling operation and you could finally take the break you had so desperately needed. you weren’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand, but, you give in anyways, resting your hand in his as he gave it a firm shake.

  “pleasure doing business with you.” you tell him, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. teasing, bickering and ‘playful’ sparring aside, you were going to miss him. you were used to patrolling and doing missions on your own but this was different. 

  “try not to end up on the other side of fishing hook, yeah?” it’s his way of telling you to be careful in shinsou’s teasing nature.

  “make sure i’m the one to grant you the merciful death.” please be careful, is what you want to say. though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud - if you did, it would only confirm that you care about the purple haired pro hero more than you should. 

  he shakes his head with a laugh, “you’re the only one who gets the satisfaction.” 

  “it better stay that way ‘toshi.” 

  he doesn’t know for certain if your agencies would cross paths again. your agency was closer to the waters and he was closer in the city, the chance that you would run into one another again would be slim to none. 

 he clears his throat for a moment, retreating his hand from yours and placing them at your waist instead. he’s pictured this a thousand times but now that he’s in the moment he couldn’t manage to find the right words. it’s frustrating, really.

  “──hi.” you’re holding your breath in anticipation, was this another one of his games? was he going to kiss you? tell you a secret? use his capture weapon and tell you that he’s not letting you go until you admit something embarrassing?

  he doesn’t care anymore. doesn’t care if it makes him look like a love sick idiot when he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’s about to do before he dies, he doesn’t care if anyone’s watching or for the wrinkles you’ll cause since you’ve got a fistful of his shirt in a desperate attempt to close whatever little distance the two of you had between you. 

  you pull away first causing him to pout (which was actually cute but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that) but you do laugh.

  “you know,” he muses, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit you hadn’t seen in years. “──i didn’t want to let you walk away without something to remember, my little water sprite.” 

  you rolled your eyes at the choice of nickname but were flattered nonetheless, your own arms finding their way around his neck, “who said i was walking away?”

#shinsou fluff #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #bnha imagine #bnha drabble #mha drabble #mha imagine #shinsou tbt. #( this is so lame bc i wrote this at 1:43 am while at work JHADKJHDA ) #╰ ♡ ✧ ˖ 𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐄 ┊ WRITINGS .

[slasherhaven]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1 HERE

People wanted a part 2, so here you go!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 2:

What had started with you and some friends trying to get a fan belt for their car and maybe some mild flirting with the man who owned the garage, had all ended in hell breaking loose. Bo had been charming and helpful, you had felt an instant connection to him, the type of connection that soulmates so often talked about.

At first you had been disappointed that he didn't seem to recognise your scars, proving he wasn't your soulmate, but now you were thankful for it. At least you weren't cosmically tied to the man who had just turned and attacked your friends.

He had shot Wade and Carly had disappeared. You had been dragged to a basement beneath the garage and left there, him promising to deal with the rest of the group you came with before returning.

Out of the people you came on the road trip, you only really knew Carly. She was the only one you would truly have to mourn but seeing Wade shot like that and knowing the others were next was undeniably traumatic.

Left alone in the basement, you tried to find a way out but there was only a heavy locked door between you and your freedom. When trying to open it failed, you settled for banging on it and shouting for help. You hoped that some other of Carly's friends would come looking for the three of you when you were gone for so long, maybe they would hear you and you could get out of here.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, hands becoming bloodied from repeatedly hitting the door, throat becoming sore from shouting. But you were finally interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. You stopped and stepped away from the door, looking up at the ceiling as the car came to a stop.

God, you hoped it was somebody from the camp...

You began to panic as you heard feet descending the stairs outside of the locked door, moving yourself further away from it. You heard the lock clicking before the door was pushed open, Bo stepping into the dimly lit basement.

"Stop banging on the fucking door" Bo snapped, clearly frustrated despite likely not having heard it if he was out in his truck...

You didn't respond but he moved closer and you noticed that he had left the door open. At this point, you had run out of options and had to take every opportunity that presented itself.

You suddenly darted towards the door, trying to pass him, but it was fruitless. Bo quickly caught you, grabbing you by the arms and standing in front of you to further block your path. You thrashed and fought against him but it was no use.

"The others?..." you asked, dread clear in your voice.

"My brother is dealing with them" Bo informed you, like it was nothing.

"...are you going to hurt me?" you were already sure of the answer, you just didn't know what he wanted from you. Why had he left you in the basement rather than just disposing of you like he had done the others.

"No. That would be, quite literally, self destructive" he chuckled darkly. He was too calm, you just knew what he had done to your friends...he had done before.

"What?" you didn't understand his comment.

Bo grabbed your wrist, his bloody hand wrapped completely around the scarring on your wrist, almost like it was instinctual. As he released your other arm, you tried to pull your hand away but his grip was too tight. With his free hand, he pulled up the sleeve his coveralls, revealing scarring that was identical to yours.

You stared at the twisted skin, processing what this meant. You had been right from the beginning when you first saw him, this was your soulmate.

"No...no" you shook your head, trying harder to pull your wrist out of his grasp. You just kept repeated the word 'no' as tears streamed from your eyes. How could you soulmate be somebody who did such awful things.

"Shhh, it's alright" Bo cooed, almost ironically. He continued to shush you as he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

Your brain told you that you should be a far away from him as possible, to kick and scream, but his embrace was strange comforting. Of course it was, you were fated to find comfort in his arms. Destined to meet him and love him. The universe wanted you both together, it was meant to be.

Maybe that was why your body began to relax as you cried into his chest, clutching at his coveralls. You hated him, you wanted to hate him, you needed to hate him. Yet, you were destined not too.

Bo kept you held against his chest and you couldn't even find it within yourself to pull away, finding comfort in the source of your pain.

Slowly, the sinking realisation settled. If you were Bo's soulmate, there was no way he was letting you leave. He had already made sure that there was nobody left to tell anyone where you were. If anyone eventually worried about your group going missing, they would assume you all ran off somewhere or eventually decide that you were the next mysterious case of missing people. It was unlikely anyone would track you down to a random, deserted, little town.

"You're home now" Bo whispered into your hair.

You sobbed at the realisation, and yet you clung tighter to him. He just held you tighter.

Bo smirked to himself as he ran a hand over your hair, only to have you shift closer to him. He knew that you hated him but he was confident that would change over time. Just from the way you were acting now, he knew he could win you over, and he knew you wouldn't be leaving him.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up" you didn't respond as he pulled away, grasping your arm before guiding you out of the basement.

He kept hold of your arm as he walked you through Ambrose, towards the house he had taken you too earlier that day. As you were walking along the road, a familiar truck pulled up beside you both, bringing you to a halt.

Lester, the man who had brought you into Ambrose in the first place, hopped out of the truck.

"Everything's cleaned up" he informed Bo before looking at you and grinning. "they're your soulmate?" Bo just nodded, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. "It must be your lucky day" Lester teased his brother, who only rolled his eyes. You frowned a little. Meeting your soulmate was meant to be a good, a lucky, day...unfortunately this had also been one of the worst days of your life.

"Go see how Vincent is doing, alright?" Bo asked, sending his younger brother away.

Lester just rolled his eyes before climbing back into his truck. He had wanted to stick around and get to know his brother's soulmate a bit more, but he understood that you were probably shaken.

Finally, you and Bo returned to his house and he led you into the kitchen, where he sat you down in a chair. You stayed silent, processing, as he washed his hands in the sink, washing the blood away.

Once his hands were clean, he wet a cloth and returned to you, pulling a chair out opposite you before sitting down.

He grasped your hands and you allowed him too, letting him pull them into his lap as he began to wipe away the blood.

"You're in shock and you're angry but you'll come around" Bo sounded sure about that but you supposed he had every right to be, you were his soulmate after all. You had to come around. "You know I can't hurt you, or let anyone else hurt you, right?" he asked and you just nodded. Of course he can't hurt you, it would only be hurting himself. Literally. At least you had that peace of mind.

You watched as he cleaned your hands, it was almost tender. A complete contrast to the cruelty he had treated the rest of your group with.

"Why did you do all this?" you asked quietly when it fell silent.

"I'll explain everything later" Bo promised, knowing he had a lot to explain and that he had to tell you everything. You would find out one way or another.

You just nodded, hanging your head. "Hey, c'mon now, the worst is over" he reassured you, lifting a hand to wipe a tear from under your eye with his thumb. "I know this probably ain't how you expected to meet your soulmate but you're gonna be just fine, darlin'" he did sound genuinely sympathetic, at least to some extent.

Removing his hand from your face, Bo stood from his chair, going to drop the now bloodied rag into the sink.

You weren't sure what came over you but you quickly grabbed his hand, stilling him. You just felt safer, the closer he was. A instinctual part of you wanted him to remain close, as if it didn't understand the nuance of the situation. He seemed a little surprised but turned to you expectantly.

"How did you get those scars?" you asked. Something you had wondered all your life.

"You still feel bad for me?" Bo asked, almost sarcastically, like he couldn't imagine you having any sympathy for him anymore.

"You were a child...I would never blame you for that" you shook your head.

"...I'll tell you later, okay? When you actually want to talk to me" Bo promised. You opened your mouth but quickly shut it again, knowing he was right. How could you talk to him about something like that after what he just did? You shouldn't have even asked.

You reluctantly released his hand, letting him dispose of the cloth.

You didn't want to admit it but you knew that eventually you would want to talk to him, that your fated connection would become much stronger than your determination to hate him for the horrible things he has done. There would come a day when you simply...didn't care anymore, and you would want him by your side despite it all.

#bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

[handsomelyhiddleston]

The Cabin - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader (Part 1/3)

“What’s got you so distracted?” Evans asked Tom.

“Sorry, I just…I had planned on visiting my family again during break, but most of them will be on a cruise for a family friend’s wedding. I know I saw them less than two months ago for Christmas, but I don’t get to see them often anymore.”

“Oh, damn!” Chris replied.

“I know, I’m considering whether or not it’s even worth it to deal with two incredibly long flights going to and from London if I’m not even going to get to see my family.” He said, opening the make-up trailer door for him and Chris.

“Where else were you thinking about spending break?” he asked, plopping down in the make-up chair to start having all of the Captain America washed off for the next two weeks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I may just take a trip to somewhere much closer by myself.” Tom answered, running his fingers through his hair when his wig was removed.

“If that’s what you WANT to do, cool, but you should just come with me to the cabin.” Chris suggested.

“The cabin?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, my friend Y/N owns a huge cabin and I drag my family up there every few years.” He explained.

“Thank you for the invite, but I couldn’t intrude on your family’s time with you.” Tom politely answered.

“Come on. First, you know my mother loves you. Second, you aren’t intruding on anything.” Chris tried convincing him.

“I really don’t want to be a bother.” Tom felt guilty, knowing how much of a family person Chris was.

“That’s it.” Chris dramatically pulled his cellphone out. “Siri, call Ma!”

“You wouldn’t.” Tom said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Calling ‘Ma’” Siri’s voice replied. The make-up artists were trying hard to keep their laughs to themselves at this point.

After a few rings, Chris’ mother answered the phone. “Hey sweetie.”

“Hey Ma, I’m here with Hiddleston and I need you to settle an argument.” Chris shot Tom a snarky ‘watch this’ look.

“Tom! How are you, sweetheart?” Chris’ mom Lisa asked.

“I’m doing well, thank you. How have you been?” Tom replied with a grin on his face.

“I’m good, I’m good. Now what are you two arguing about?” She asked.

“Well, Tom isn’t going to get to see his family over filming break.” Chris started to explain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Lisa interrupted. “You should just drive up to Y/n’s with Chris! There’s plenty of room and you know I always make too much food anyhow.”

Chris gave Tom a cocky grin. “That’s exactly what I was telling him, Ma!”

“You’re too kind.” Tom laughed. “I suppose you’ve made an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re always welcome with us.” Lisa reiterated. “We’re getting ready for bed since our flight is so damn early in the morning, so I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

“Thanks, Ma! Be safe!” Chris answered, hanging up the phone.

“Thank you.” Tom said, getting up from his make-up chair.

“I told you, it’s no biggie. We’re gonna have a blast.” Evans answered.

“When are we leaving?” Tom asked.

“Well, we’ve got a few options.” Chris answered as the two of them left the make-up trailer.

“Go on.”

“They aren’t expecting us there until tomorrow, but if we leave in the next few hours, we’ll actually beat them there.” Chris explained.

“I mean, I’m nowhere near tired.” Tom said, letting Chris know he was down for the drive.

“Same. I’ve been so excited for this trip, I feel wired.” He replied “Wanna pack and meet me at mine?”

“Absolutely.” Tom answered. “Anything specific I should pack?” He called loudly as the two had walked a distance apart.

“Dress comfy!” Chris yelled back. “And bring a jacket! It’s snowing!”

Tom waved and made his way to his trailer.

It was about an 8 or 9 hour drive up to the cabin, so the guys rolled up at about 3 in the morning.

“Is anybody else here?” Tom asked, as Chris navigated his truck up the snowy drive.

“Y/n’s here. She spends about half her time up here.” Chris answered, parking the truck and shooting you a text.

“Where does she spend the rest of her time?” Tom asked.

“Everywhere, really. She’s a writer. She’s even come and crashed with me while I was filming.” Chris answered, hopping out of the truck when he got your text reply.

“Books? Scripts?” Tom asked, curious what you wrote.

“Books, mostly. She’s got a few popular series, but she also has a few pen names that she refuses to tell me so I’ve always assumed she like consults or edits or something.” Chris answered.

“How mysterious.” Tom chucked, grabbing his bag and following Chris up to the house.

“Y/n!” Chris yelled into the cabin, leading Tom into the large home.

“Did you really work all day and then drive 8 hours?” you laughed, walking down the stairs.

“I just couldn’t wait to see that beautiful face.” Chris dropped his bag and pulled you into a bear hug.

“Sure. This definitely has nothing to do with you beating Scott to one of the big bedrooms.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him.

“That’s just a perk.” He teased, introducing you to Tom. “I’m sure you know who this is. Y/n, Tom. Tom, Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You replied, pulling Tom into a hug.

“It’s very nice to meet you too.” Tom said, happy to see that you seemed just as chill and down to earth as the rest of Chris’ friends and family.

“He had to bail on his plans to fly home for the break, so I convinced him to join our two weeks of amazing chaos and shenanigans.” Chris laughed.

“Amazing is right, bucko. I just got two hot tubs installed” you shared.

“Yes!” Chris half yelled.

“Also, mi casa es su casa, Tom. Make yourself at home.” You told him.

“Gracias.” Tom replied in Spanish.

“Any chance you two want to take a dip tonight before the rest of the pack arrives?” Chris asked, looking between you and Tom.

“Absolutely” you answered, walking towards the kitchen. “You both okay with Beer? I’ve got other options.”

“Beer for me.” Chris answered.

“Actually, a beer sounds rather refreshing at the moment.” Tom answered.

“I’ll grab the beer and you two can pick your rooms” you called from the kitchen.

“You down for the hot tub?” Chris asked Tom.

“I am, but I didn’t pack any swim shorts.” He answered.

“No worries, Y/n has a whole closet full of random stuff. Follow me.” Chris led Tom up the stairs. “Y/n’s room is at the very top, but there’s two rooms just below that. We can take those two. Let those with kiddos stay closest to the bottom floor.”

“Sounds good to me” Tom replied, dropping his bag on the bed before following Chris to your closet of misfit swim clothes, jackets, sleepwear, blankets, and other miscellaneous stuff.

When you made your way upstairs, you saw that the guys had picked the two rooms closest to yours. You weren’t surprised. They were the two biggest after yours and Chris never got to pick one of them because he was always the last to show up for his family get togethers.

“When you two get changed, head up to mine. The second hot tub is on my balcony.” You took the three unopened beers and went up the last set of stairs to get changed in your room. Your suit was a black balconette bikini top and a pair of black high waisted bikini bottoms. The top and bottom had a few strappy bits that accentuated your curves.

“Well hello there, sexy lady.” You heard Chris and his unending charm behind you as you were finishing getting your top all sorted.

“You guys get settled in?” you asked, nodding towards the beers.

Chris opened one and handed it to you. “We did.” As he opened another for himself and sat on your bed, he shared a bit about Tom. “I’m happy he tagged along. I don’t know what he’s got going on in his personal life because he doesn’t share a lot, but he needs a break like this.”

“Well, if I had to take a guess...” you took a swig of your beer. “You two get along great which makes me think he’s a down to earth, genuine person.”

“I agree” Chris replied.

“If you’ve seen any of the tabloids lately, they aren’t very friendly to the exes of the women he’s most recently dated. I’m going to assume he’s a bit overwhelmed and a bit worn out. It’s hard to stay genuine and down to earth when the media is writing about you as if you’re a scheming fuckboy.”

Chris took a swig of his beer. “I think you might be right. God, beauty and brains? Why won’t you marry me?” he teased.

“Like you could handle me” you teased right back.

“I’m going to go get more beer so we don’t have to leave the hot tub.” Chris stood and smacked your ass on the way out.

“How did I know you were going to do that?” you laughed.

Chris was laughing as he passed Tom. “I’ll meet you two up there.”

When Tom walked in, you opened the last of the three beers and handed it to him. “Pink suits you.” You noticed he was wearing the bright pink swim shorts from the closet.

Tom blushed and laughed as he took a sip of his beer. “It was this or ones with bananas all over them. I thought I’d make a bold choice.”

“Choice well made” you replied, opening the double doors to your balcony. “It’s going to be a short chilly journey to the hot tub, but heaven once you get in.”  

When you went to walk up the steps on the side of the hot tub to get in, Tom extended his arm so you could grab his hand. “Be careful.”

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile.

“God, I leave for two minutes and you two are already holding hands.” Chris snarked as he joined the two of you on the balcony. You and Tom both laughed as you walked down into the hot tub and let go of his hand. “What’s he got that I don’t got?” Chris was fake sniffling as he climbed into the hot tub after Tom.

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question.” You answered, finishing the beer in your hand.

“Now I really want to know” Chris replied, opening and handing you a second beer.

“Are you two always like this?” Tom laughed.

You and Chris looked at each other and answered “yeah” at the same time.

After the three of you had spent about a half hour in the hot tub just talking and laughing, Tom cleared his throat. “Thank you for this.”

“For what?” you asked. He was sat between you and Chris, the three of you looking out at the beautiful snowy mountain view.

“Chris, for inviting me. You, for having me. Both of you for forcing me to get out of my own head.” Tom answered.

“You don’t need to thank us.” Chris replied, slapping Tom on the shoulder.

“He’s right, you know.” You smiled, looping your arm through his and leaning your head on his shoulder, looking back out at the view. “You’re pretty great company if I do say so myself.”

“Well, if I can’t thank you, at least let me share my appreciation of you both.” Tom replied, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Just wait until the whole pack shows up” Chris laughed. “It’s calm now, but you’re going to have plenty of distractions once the shenanigans start.”

“Remember, my room is the safe zone” you laughed. “No kids, it’s off-limits during games, and it’s the only access to this balcony.”

“I’ll keep that in mind” Tom chuckled.

Chris looked over and saw you cuddled into Tom’s side. “Why do I get the feeling you’re ‘appreciating’ Y/n over there a lot more than you are me” he teased.

You laughed and Tom looked over at Chris. “If you wanted a snuggle, that’s all you had to say.”

The three of you were all laughing, the lateness of the night sinking in. “If I snuggle anyone I’m going to fall asleep, and I have a feeling that’s not the best idea in a hot tub.” He stood up and hopped over the side, almost slipping on the icy balcony floor.

“What time is everyone arriving tomorrow?” you asked, not moving from your spot at Tom’s side.

“Well, they always grab breakfast down at that old little diner after they land, so maybe 11?” Chris answered, wrapping himself in a towel.

“You mean we actually get to sleep in?” you said with a bit of exaggerated shock.

“I don’t think it counts as sleeping in if you don’t go to bed until after the sun starts peaking over the mountains.” Tom teased you.

Chris laughed. “Hey, we’ll take it. Sleep is going to be a rare commodity around here for at least a few days.” He left the balcony and went back inside to warm up.

“I can’t wait.” Tom said.

“Me either. I love when they come up here. Always makes this place feel more like home.” You shared, moving to get out of the hot tub.

“I think the chaos is something I miss when I don’t get to spend time with my family.” Tom replied, once again grabbing your hand and making sure you made it safely out of the hot tub and onto the balcony. “I think having all of my nieces and nephews running around and the fact that there is always something cooking or baking…It’s hard to feel alone.”

You handed Tom a large towel and wrapped another one around yourself. “Well, if that’s your idea of a great time, you’re going to love your time with Chris’ family. They’re love and chaos and great food with a dash of an extreme love of competition.”

Tom followed you back into the house. “Well, again. I appreciate that I’m able to experience it.”

“Me too” you said, drying your hair a bit with your towel. “It sounds like you needed a bit of an escape.”

“That’s one way to put it” Tom said, drying off.

“Well, if you need anything just come find me, okay?” You could hear Chris coming back up the stairs to your room.

“Thank you, I will.” Tom replied, seeming to hesitate for a second. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you tonight. Or this morning, rather.” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but smile as you threw your towel into the clothes hamper. You were a very confident person. You were proud of who you were, and you loved your curvy body, but all of a sudden you felt very naked standing there in your bikini. Tom’s genuine compliment and the way he confidently looked you up and down left you with goosebumps. “The feeling is definitely mutual.”

“Let me know if I can help with anything. Preparations and such.” Tom mentioned as Chris walked in.

“Don’t worry about that, Ma usually takes over when she gets here.” Chris laughed.

You shrugged. “True” you added, both grateful for and irritated by the interruption.  

“Y/n, I checked that all of the doors were locked. Our trucks are both locked too. I’m gonna pass out and shower when I wake up.” Chris let you know.

“Thanks” you replied. “I’ll probably hop in the shower before I go to bed so that I can help your mom sort meals and such out when she gets here.”

“Sweet. I’m going to bed.” Chris interrupted himself with a yawn. “I will see both of you in a few hours”

As Chris headed back down a floor to his room, Tom cleared his throat. “I really don’t mind helping.”

“You’ll eventually get roped into doing something, I promise.” You laughed.

Tom nodded and smiled. “Well then, I’m going to go shower and sleep. I’ll see you in a bit.”

As Tom turned to walk down the stairs, you spoke. “Try to relax.” When he turned to look at you, you continued. “You have nothing to worry about for two whole weeks. No schedule, no paparazzi, no expectations…just, let yourself enjoy it, okay?”

Tom smiled and nodded his head. He replied “I think I will” before continuing down the stairs.

Instead of your alarm, you were woken up by Chris crawling into your bed. “Y/n.” He was trying to wake you up gently. “Y/n!”

“Did my alarm not go off?” you asked, rolling over and snuggling into Chris.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. “I underestimated my mother’s planning. Turns out they got to the diner at 8 this morning and they’re currently unloading the cabs downstairs.”

“What time is it?” you asked.

“9:30” Chris replied, the two of you hearing someone coming up the stairs.

“I’m going to need coffee” you mumbled.

Tom made it to the top of the stairs and saw you and Chris together in your bed. He tucked the thought away, making note to ask Chris about the two of you later. “Not a morning person?” he asked, laughing at your messy bed head and request for caffeine.

“I can be when I need to be, but we were awake and drinking on my balcony like four hours ago” you replied.

“Can I make you some coffee?” Tom offered.

You rolled over and sat up sorting out your messy hair. “I can make it. I just need to get dressed.”

Chris rolled out of your bed, going to your closet. “Bra, leggings, sweater, fuzzy socks.” Chris tossed your clothes onto your bed.

“You know me so well.” You laughed, gathering your clothes and getting out of bed. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“I think they’re finished unloading, but I’ll go see if there’s anything else they need help with.” Tom replied, heading downstairs.

“I’m offended that you two look like you’ve just had 12 hours of beauty sleep.” You teased Chris, pulling your leggings on.

“I think you’re underestimating yourself” Chris said, turning to leave. “You’ve definitely caught someone’s attention.” Chris had noticed the way Tom looked at the two of you cuddled up in your bed and planned on asking him about it later.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sleepily asked, but Chris was already gone.

You finished getting dressed in your long, oversized sweater and fuzzy socks and walked downstairs to greet Chris’ family.

“Y/n!” Chris’ sisters greeted, pulling you each into a hug, the three of you quickly catching up.

Then came Scott, who practically tackled you. “Bitch, it has been too long.”

“Agreed.” You replied, the two of you making plans to go get stuff for drinks tonight.

You’d said a few hellos and given a few hugs to various other friends and family and eventually you made your way to the kitchen with Tom and Lisa, Chris’ mom.

“Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you.” Lisa pulled you into a tight hug, kissing both of your cheeks. “I can’t believe the boys showed up at three this morning!”

You laughed. “It’s good to see you too. And Chris warned me a few days ago that he would probably drive up after he finished filming.”

Looking over you saw Tom holding a mug of coffee out towards you. “For me?” You reached out and took the mug from him.

“It’s the least I could do. Lisa told me how you take your coffee.” He answered, nodding towards Chris’ mom.

You took a sip, humming to yourself. “Thank you, this is perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to Tom’s cheek before hearing Chris’ niece call for you.

“In the kitchen, sweetie” you called back out, walking towards where you heard her call from.

As the adults started getting settled into their rooms, the kids were all starting to crash from the hectic morning they’d had.

“Let’s watch a movie in the den, guys.” You suggested, grabbing blankets and pillows and throwing them on the couches and floor so that the kids would spread out and nap.

“What are we gonna watch?” one of his nephews asked.

“Well, we’ve got Goosebumps, we’ve got School of Rock, and we’ve got Bedtime Stories.” You read the movies aloud, with the kids all picking Goosebumps. About 15 minutes in, all of you were asleep in various places in the room.

Scott, Chris, and Tom were bundled up in their jackets talking on the back porch as Chris set up your grill and got it ready to use.

“So how long have you guys known Y/n?” Tom asked.

“Oh, god. It’s been…I don’t even know. It’s been years.” Chris thought about how long you guys had been friends.

“Chris met Y/n one day in New York. She was there for a book project or something and Chris had ducked inside her apartment building to get away from paparazzi.” Scott laughed, remembering Chris tell him the story.

Chris let out a big laugh. “She was getting ready to walk out and I practically ran into her. When she realized why I so rudely shoved my way into the building, she asked me ‘Do you want to do something very immature but totally worth it?’ I had to, right?”

Scott continued the story. “She led him up to her apartment and ran inside. Chris just waited at the door wondering what he’d gotten himself into when she popped back out, holding a box of water balloons.”

Tom laughed. “Oh, please tell me you threw them at the paparazzi.”

“They did. They filled a bin full of them and went to the roof.” Scott replied.

“I have never made a friend so quickly in my life” Chris said. “We got through about half of the bin before they left. Even better, they never got a picture of me throwing the balloons. The tabloids alluded to the fact that it was me, but we never officially got caught.”

“I don’t know if she adopted us or if we adopted her, but she’s been family ever since.” Scott added.

“Either way, she’s the best kind of people.” Chris said, closing the lid on the grill.

“I can see that.” Tom replied. After a short pause, he continued. “Have you two ever…dated?”

Chris grinned, remembering how Tom had looked at the two of you cuddled up in your bed. “Nah, she’s one of my best friends. Possibly my actual best friend.” he answered, sitting down next to the other two guys.

“Even though I’m sure ma would love it if you two got together.” Scott laughed.

“I think ma just wants both of us to settle down and have kids like the girls did.” Chris replied. “She treats Y/n like a daughter.”

Scott looked back at Tom. “Why the interest in Y/n’s dating life, huh?” he teased him.

“Just curious” Tom answered with straightest face he could manage.

“I don’t know” Chris continued, continuing to tease Tom. “You two looked awfully cozy last night.”

Tom’s cheeks blushed a bit before he could answer. “If a beautiful woman laid her head on your shoulder, what would you have done?”

“Fair point.” Chris laughed. “She’s single, you know” he added.

“She is” Scott echoed, smirking. “And I have a date to go shopping with her if you want me to see if she’s interested.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” Tom replied, failing miserably at hiding his grin.

“No rush” Scott answered, putting his hands up. “I’m just saying…”

“Give him a break” Chris interrupted. “He’s got two weeks to see where things go.”

“True” Scott replied.

Part 2

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #Tom Hiddleston x curvy reader #Loki

[ameliajessicawilliamspond]

There he was.

Hung on a wall like a damn display.

Luke Skywalker, the ultimate prize.

.

.

Luke had gone out on a mission alone which always worried Din. Sometimes he would run a little late but he always came back in one piece, most of the time without a scratch on him. The more time Din spent around the Jedi, the more real this power, this Force, of the Jedi became.

He wondered how strong Grogu would become...

This mission was supposed to be two days. Maximum. Luke had laughed and said he'd be home by dinner.

That was two weeks ago.

Which was concerning on its own. But then, the wanted posters on Luke began to dissapate. Han hoped it was because they decided to stop trying, but Din knew better. The only reason a bounty would be taken down is if...if the bounty was fulfilled.

Din followed Luke's trail and realized, unfortunately, he was right. The Jedi was taken to Kessal.

"Did they kill him?" Din asked his informant, voice even, being careful not to portray the fear coursing through him.

"No." The woman said, and Din's heart flipped. "Not yet." She continued. Din leaned forward. "The bounty hunter brought the jedi to Moris Asz, a Crime Boss amongst spice traders. He was to deliver the jedi to Mos Gideon. Word is he decided the jedi was too valuable to waste on Gideon's "experiments", too big a prize to dispose of. Word around here is he has the jedi strung up somewhere on display. A testamony to his power."

Din had a hard time believing that. He had seen Luke hurt in ways thst would keep even the strongest being down and still win an entire battle. There was no way some gangster had him somewhere -alive and awake- without already having been destroyed.

Still, the image that invaded his mind terrified him. Luke Skywalker, strung up somewhere like a morose art piece, bleeding, dying, scared---

No. No, he wouldn't dwell on it. He couldn't. Din shoved the invasive thought from his mind.

The informant sent him Moris Asz's location, a palace in the middle of Kessel surrounded by spice mining camps.

Not a problem for a Mandalorian.

Din spotted a grouping of droids. Reprogrammed battle droids from the Clone War, turned into bodyguards.

Din shot his whistling bird, taking down two at once. He hopped the fence, shoving his way past two more, taking one out with his blaster, the other with his fist.

He turned down a hall. Two humanoids, three droids. The droids fired and the Mandalorian ducked behind a wall, thumping his arm against it. The gaurds called to the droids to stop firing and ran forward, hoping to find an injured intruder. Din leapt up, grabbing one bodyguard by the neck and turning him around, using him as human shield. The other gaurd hesitated, swearing under his breath. Din used the hesitation to shove the meat shield at the other gaurd, knocking them both into the wall.

Turning his attention to the droids, Din pulled out the Beskaar staff, knocking the blasters from their slow metal hands, then piercing through their circuitry.

Behind him, Din heard shuffling. Din stood stock still as the shuffling became a full run. The gaurds behind him had woken up. Din settled into his stance, still facing away from them.

Closer.

Closer.

Now.

Din swung, managing to brain one, and in one quick motion, pierce the other's heart. They both fell, dead.

Spinning on his heels, he saw the door they had been outside of. Two giant, carved wooden doors that seemed to lead to some grand hall.

That would be a good display room, Din thiught grimly.

Din shoved the doors open and sure enough, there he was, Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, hanging on the back wall, two lights pointing to illumate him, frozen in Carbonite.

Luke indeed looked like a morose painting. His head was raised, mouth slightly ajar. His left hand outstretched, as if he was about to use his power, -or ask whoever was doing this to stop- his eyes, though grey and flat thanks to the carbonite, were blown wide open.

"Kriff." Din swore. Luke would most definitely be dealing with carbonite induced blindness and would be coughing up carbonite for at least a week thanks to whoever did this to him without preparing him correctly.

Din stepped forward, testing for any trip wires. Tentatively, he reached out to touch the carbonite, just to see if there was any trap. But his hand touched Luke's outstretched fingers and...

oh...

He was so still, so cold, like a statue. The little control Din had over himself, his determination to make sure he saw this as just another mission to spare his sanity shattered like glass.

"Oh, Luke..." Din slid his hand fully into Luke's unmoving one. His other hand touched Luke's face, tracing his jaw as he studied the unmoving jedi. This close Din could see it; the terror Luke was frozen in. "What did they do to you?"

He pulled himself from his thoughts, knowing time was certainly of the essence now that he had wasted valuable time. Din dashed around to the side of the box and typed in the release code. Luke began to glow red as the Carbonite melted away. Din looked around again, waiting for the sound of approaching gaurds. Why hadn't anyone else shown up yet?

Luke fell from the device like a pile of bricks. Din rushed forward, catching him just in time, but the jedi shoved him away. Confused, the Mandalorian tried to grab him again but Luke pitched forward, shoving him again before vomiting up grey and Din recognized it as the Carbonite that had entered his mouth coming back up with a vengeance.

Luke trembled above the pile of grey bile below him. He pushed himself back on his knees, his arms wrapping around himself as he desperately tried to look around the room with no success. "I can't see...Why...why can't I see?" Luke begged the air.

Din reached out tentatively. "Luke--"

Luke shot himself backwards at the touch with a rasped "no" and Din pulled his hand away like he had been burned. "Who are you?" Luke asked through chattering teeth. "What happened to me?" He asked.

"You were frozen in Carbonite." Din answered honestly.

Luke's demeanor shattered. Whatever he had left of that jedi mask crumbled before the Mandalorian's eyes. "No, no no no no, I'm not...I can't be...He...He won. He got me. It's over I-I'm gunna be forced to Turn or He's going to kill me. I can't turn to the Dark Side! Please no--no, Vader please-!" Luke panicked, curling into himself.

Din didn't know how to respond, he had no idea what Luke was talking about, trapped in some memory from his past. Brain fog and jumbled memories, another side effect of Carbonite Sickness. He knew he had to calm the jedi down fast before someone heard them. "Luke, Luke listen to me. The war is over, Vader is gone. I'm Din Djarin, I'm here to rescue you."

Luke's head shot up, turning to his general direction. "Din..." He whispered, trying to make sense of his jumbled mind. "Why can't I feel you?" He asked, and Din's heart skipped.

The Beskar made him a nearly blank space in the Force. Luke couldn't sense him. Din removed his glove, grabbing Luke's hand, causing the jedi to gasp, his trembling grip tightening around Din's hand like a lifeline.

"I'm so cold..." He whimpered, curling further into himself. Din was reminded of the story Luke had told him about his time on Hoth and how much he hated the cold. With one hand he pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around the jedi. Luke pulled the matierial tight around him.

"Come on." Din said, as gently as he could. They couldn't wait here any longer, it had been too long since someone had come to find them and that was concerning. Surely someone should have come for them by now...

Din pulled Luke to his feet, never letting go of his hand. "Can you walk?" Luke shuffled from one foot to the other, testing it himself before stiffly nodding. Din squeezed his hand. "Good. Come on."

They got down two halls without a soul in sight. Din was beginning to hope that the universe had finally given him a break.

He should have known better.

Because standing there at the end of the third hallway with a smirk, surrounded by two bounty hunters and a half dozen battle droids, was Moris Asz, arms folded, Luke's lightsaber hanging off his hip. Din yanked Luke behind his back, his free hand hovering over the Dark Saber.

"Oh, little Jedi, that's not where you're supposed to be." the gangster mocked. Luke pushed in closer against Din's back.

"This bounty has already been fulfilled." the Twi'lek bounty hunter mocked.

"He's coming with me." Din responed blankly.

"No, he's really not." Moris Asz said.

The jedi let out a yelp and Din felt Luke's hand ripped from his own. Din spun, Dark Saber ignited. Luke was being held, one hand curled tightly in his golden hair, the other arm wrapped around his throat, by another bounty hunter, the cloak a discarded heap on the ground beneath his feet. Din cursed himself for not hearing the Rodian approach.

"Well well, the Mand'alor himself come to rescue his precious little jedi. My my, how the mighty Mandalorians have fallen." The gangster mocked. Din spun, saber aimed at the gangster's throat, but he simply waved him off. "Don't bother with the pagentries, Mand'alor. Every gun in this room is trained on his little blond head. You so much as flinch, and he's gone. You wouldn't want that, would you, your Majesty?"

Din turned back to Luke, who was struggling against the arms holding him. Din had no idea what to do, how he would save the jedi.

Luke's sightless eyes found Din's helmet and something in them flashed.

Oh.

Oh....

Din shut the Dark Saber off and put his hands in the air.

"Good boy. " the Human bounty hunter next to Moris mocked.

"Kick that over here." the gangster said and Din obliged, kicking the Dark Saber over to him. Moris Asz picked it up to examine it before turning his attention back to Din. "Kneel."

Din hesitated, and the Rodian's grip tightened in Luke's hair, pulling an involuntary whine from the shivering jedi and Din dropped to his knees.

Luke is handed off to the Human bounty hunter and forced to kneel next to Moris Asz as well.

"You are going back on my wall, little jedi. You're too pretty a decoration. Although," he said as he grabbed Luke by the jaw and forced his head up, tilting the jedi's face from one side to the other. "You look real pretty like this too." Luke's eyes wandered, failing to find the man's eyes. Moris Asz released Luke's jaw, the jedi's head falling to his chest, exhausted. "This is the mighty jedi everyone was so scared of?" He waved his hand in front of Luke's face with no response. "Blind as a bat. Pathetic."

Din laughed.

Every head turned to him.

Din looked up, waving his hand in a dismissive way. "Sorry, sorry, continue."

Everyone in the room looked around at each other.

Moris Asz crossed his arms, seemingly growing bigger with rage. "What's so funny?" He demanded.

"Sorry, it's just...you really don't know who you captured, do you?" Din asked.

The gangster looked around the room, bouncing on his heels. No one seemed to know what the Mandalorian was talking about. "What do you mean?" Moris Asz asked.

Din shrugged. "It's just that...sorry, you really don't know?"

The gangster huffed in frustration.

"Spit it out!" The Rodian demanded.

"Jedi don't need their eyes to see."

The room barely had time to process what the Mandalorian had meant before Luke's hand was shooting forward, pulling the lightsaber off the gangster's belt with the Force. Without so much as standing or turning around, Luke ignited the blade into the human bounty hunter behind him who was reaching for his blaster. Luke rose, the bounty hunter still choking around the intrusion in his chest. Luke turned, pulling the saber from his chest and he slumped over. Luke turned to face the rest of the room. He tilted his head slightly.

"SHOOT HIM!" Moris Asz screamed.

Every blaster went off at once and not one came even close to touching the Jedi or the Mandalorian. Four bounced off his blade dead center of four of the droids circuit boards. He reached out and crushed another droid with the Force, throwing the discarded machine into another droid, crushing it as well. He sprang from his spot, attacking the Rodian bounty hunter that had moved his blaster from Luke to Din, cutting off the hand holding the weapon first, before stabbing him in the chest. The Twi'lek bounty hunter next to him dropped his weapon, hands in the air. Luke lowered the lightsaber and lifted his hand towards the man. With a little wave, he muttered "sleep." The Twi'lek crumpled to the floor.

Luke made his way back to stand before his captor, holding the lightsaber towards the now trembling gangster on the floor.

"Now- now, listen, I-I-I didn't mean you no harm. Cone on now, you've won, little jedi, you've won. Why don't you just leave? See, I-I've admitted defeat. I may not know much about jedi but I know they don't seek revenge. Now, you can't kill me. Why don't you just walk away?" Luke stayed stock still, unseeing eyes boring a hole into the gangster's head, unreadable. "Come on now, I thought jedi don't hold no grudges?"

A blaster bullet went straight through the gangster's head. Moris Asz fell to the ground, dead.

Din reholstered his blaster. "Yeah, well I do."

Din moved past Luke and yanked the Dark Saber off the dead man's body, placing it back where it belonged. Then he went back and grabbed the discarded cloak. He approached Luke, Din's hand hovering over the one that still held the ignited lightsaber. He pressed gently on the grip with a soft "hey." Luke took a deep breath and shut the laser sword off.

"You will never cease to amaze me." Din said, wrapping the cloak around his shoulders again before fixing the back of Luke's hair that was tangled from where the Rodian had grabbed him. "Are you alright?" Din asked, his hand finding the Jedi's again, anchoring him.

Luke looked up at him, something distant in that blinded stare. "I'm so tired." Luke mumbled, leaning forward into Din's chestplate.

Din wrapped his free arm around Luke's back. "Then let's go home."

[ TAGGED: @rookshaisbi @lukespieceofjunkponcho ]

#dinluke #star wars #luke Skywalker #din djarin #the mandolorian #fanfiction #whump #bamf luke

[heli0s-writes]

lights up*

A/N: Stucky (primarily Steve)/Reader. 2k words of idkwhatthisisi’msorry. There was a prompt from six months ago that I wrote this for but I lost the message and I can’t remember! All mistakes are my own, please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You wake up in scattered shock.

Knee-jerk reaction to fast hands sliding between your thighs, fingers carelessly ticking sensitive skin.

You wake up to a groggy voice, slurred with sleep and raspy-raw.

“Baby,” it croaks from between your legs, “Honey, sweetheart, sugar. Please, please, please let me eat your pussy.”

Wha—

A few disbelieving blinks as you scrabble for your bearings—can’t see shit—still dark—head throbbing.

“Oh god, I wanna sosososo bad,” and then hands are between your knees, spreading your legs apart. “So… damn... tasty. Uh-huh… Come to daddy.”

Who the fuck is—damn it, Bucky.

In the dead hour of four-something when nothing should be moving so intentionally, an unsteady moan tumbles out of him when he starts groping for your ass.

“Buck!” You whisper, kicking your leg to shake him off. Grabbing the covers with one hand, you reach under with the other, swatting his head and trying to get a firm hold on him. Slippery fucking man.

He pauses for a second before his body goes limp, half hanging off the foot of the bed and you groan at his weight. Idiot boy. Two hundred pounds of horny somnambulist dropping like an anchor on your poor legs.

Fiddling now with how to get him back up to his regular spot, you try to do it quietly, the warmth radiating next to your left shoulder a compelling incentive. Even with your wits barely about you, you know better than to wake—

“Whassit? Whas goin’ on?”

Steve. Ah.

“Nothing,” you sigh, reaching over and stroking his arm absently, one foot tapping against Bucky’s waist to urge him upward. “He’s just sleep-talking again.”

Steve makes a groggy noise of comprehension. “Sleep-talking or sleep-fucking?”

“Just sleeping now. Ugh… didn’t mean to wake you.”

He’d come in late again—meetings and paperwork keeping him well after hours. Not even able to do it from home, which would have been nice. At least here you could make sure he was eating, or drinking enough water, or at least be in the presence of good company.

Instead, you and Buck watched a movie, took a few rounds of shots (because he likes the taste and how you look dancing all over the coffee table), fooled around in the kitchen, and turned in around two—Steve nowhere in sight. Some jobs were Captain-Only, which meant you’d have to make peace with being useless.

That’s generally not a task that goes over well. The amount of untamed energy Bucky exudes without Steve’s guidance is… close to being categorized as a natural disaster and trying to stay up with him is always a double-edged sword. Lots of fun, sure, but he requires less sleep than you do and can finagle you into getting piss drunk with a single smirk.  

“Wish you’d been more responsible.” Bone-tired and Steve’s still bossy. His arm is heavy as it snakes over your tummy. “You know he needs direction.”

“Hey, I tried.”

“Issat right? That why your panties’re on the counter? Shirt in the sink, too. Come home close to four and still gotta clean up after the two of you.”

His raspy breath tickles, plump lips crushed just below your ear—enough to start a chain reaction of shudders.

“Go back to sleep,” you huff, embarrassed. It was only a few hours ago so your head’s still a bit fuzzy—vague memory of playful touches before hearing, hop up, baby, from Bucky. And you, tittering and zealous the whole way, kissing him like he’d never been kissed before.

YouTube blinking on the T.V., stuck on some ad because the streaming’s a snail’s pace from when Steve set up the internet and tried to pinch pennies at the same time. Bucky’s specially crafted “Wine, Dine, and Sixty-Nine” playlist refusing to load even half a song afterwards so neither of you could spare your neighbors from hearing all the noises.

Hopefully the laughter was loudest, and not the primal fucking, or the crashing when you slipped off the counter and knocked Bucky on his ass.  

You giggle at that. Years and years together and some nights still feel brand new.

“Have fun without me?”

There’s no real jealousy in Steve’s voice, but there is greed behind the question. A single night away and he acts like he’s never been kissed either.

Your eyes start fluttering when his fingers curl around your hipbone. Je-sus. Hell. It’s too late—early—for this.

You grumble his name, asking him to save it for a couple more hours when your brain doesn’t feel pried free, but, Captain-Only mode activated and he’s not deterred. A bloodhound on a fresh trail.

The hand on your hip turns inward and you’re suddenly aware of him pressed against your body, that hot line of him, pulsing on your upper thigh. He tilts forward, one knee rubbing up your leg. Bucky stirs a little and makes another declaration about how he’s fit for the CEO position of Eating Your Ass, but nothing more after that.

“He do you good?” Steve wonders, apparently not giving a fuck about whether Bucky’s dead or alive down there and instead only worried about repositioning you, rolling you on your side, “That why you’re so happy to get me out of the house? So you two can fool around unchecked as much as you want?”

“Steve, you know damn well—"

His hand slips around the side of your neck, four thick fingers drumming over the ridges of your throat. “Watch your mouth,” he whispers, “before you get yourself into any more trouble.”

He gets mean without enough sleep. And no one would ever guess, but other than working over some poor punching bag that’ll never see the light of day after he gets his hands on it, Captain America likes to fuck it out. You and Buck have properly come out of a few sessions barely alive, feeling like two ends of a slinky that’s taken one too many tumbles down a flight of stairs.

You squirm as he palms your bottom with his free hand, kneading the bare flesh a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts can’t cover.

“Gotta be quiet,” he tells you gently, “Can’t wake him, can we.” Christ help you. What a time to play a game. You mumble under your breath, “Do I have a choice?”

A prod at your already sore entrance, and Steve says, annoyingly convinced, “I think you’ve already made your choice.”

He stills for a second when Bucky flops around on the mattress and then he starts pressing his mouth to your back, your shoulder, other hand holding you steady with expertise. It’s Steve’s favorite position when he wants to be in charge—you, writhing and turned away, usually leaned about 50 degrees and pawing at Bucky’s chest—this morning, feebly snatching sheets instead.

It doesn’t take any buildup. He’s achingly ready; you’re willingly wet. Clothes moved just enough out of the way and his two fingers slide upward, pushing barely to spread you before he quickly replaces it with something much thicker. It’s only been a few seconds. He’s too fast for you to get a word in edgewise, your brain still muddled, body cooperative.

“Huh,” Steve mumbles, slowly feeling his way into position, “A bit fucked loose, aren’t you?”

“Steve,” you hiss in reply, clenching up reflexively the same time mortification bursts across your scrunched- up face. “Don’t say that.”

“Hush, baby.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.” And he’s evil incarnate, you swear. Satan himself packaged up in the neat body of a demigod. He rolls his hips slowly until the tops of his thighs are pressed against your ass, fingers holding so tight you think he’s going to spear right into bone. “Stay still or you’re gonna knee Buck in the cheek.”

You twist your head around, instead, shaking your chin free from his hand, hoping that once he sees your pitiful expression, he’ll find it in his heart to maybe not pound you into oblivion with bells on.

Of course, Steve’s not looking anywhere but down the line of your back and further to where he’s opening you up, bottom lip tucked into his teeth.

You constantly rib him about how he’s making up for all the years he spent with the two working eyes of a mole so now he’ll break his neck to watch. Bucky’s confirmed it multiple times to Steve’s chagrin, cackling at the way Steve goes purple defending himself. You love the stories they tell and retell; you try to spend most your time making up for all those years you weren’t there to find out.

Who isn’t in this relationship? Violently horny like teenagers, the three of you, spending every idle hour mishandling for each other like it’s the first time. Excitement primeval like animals in heat, apparently instinctual enough for one of you to do it in his sleep. Years and years and it still feels brand new.

The bed’s rocking surprisingly moderately for Steve’s usual pace, and it’s a bit heartwarming to know that he’s doing it because he really doesn’t want to wake Bucky, but he ramps up his game. He starts whispering again, meaner, hotter, the damn mouth on Steve Rogers continuing to give you hell this early morning.

He pinches your nipple hard, letting you gasp at the brief sting before he goes back up to your chin, your mouth, and then he puts the entire hand over it.

“Quiet. Not another fucking word out of you. Gotta teach you how to behave this morning, don’t I?” He’s working himself up, working you over, even pulling you back on him by the hips and then wiggling you up and down on him like he’s adjusting you on a saddle. Motherfucker.

Your toes curl, knees grinding, legs folding up to get simultaneously closer and away from him and it feels—it feels so excruciatingly good—the effortless glide of his cock, the burn of friction dragging itself out the more you wriggle. Whatever indelicate sounds falling out of your mouth are getting mashed back in, Steve ramming himself into your body, shaking your brain further loose.

He’s probably louder than he intends to be—you know how he gets when he’s close— bombs could be dropping two feet away and Steve Rogers would hear nothing but the roar of his own wanting, chasing it until he crashes into bits. You’re chasing too, both hands clamped around his wrist, arching your back to near breaking.

“Yeah,” he rasps out, “That’s it, that’s good, baby. Ugnn—back up on me, stay—right there.”

More uneven jerking, he releases your face and starts rubbing your clit, saying, you like it like this? Like me givin’ it to you good like this? And you’re shaking in his arms, the both of you tipping over the edge.

-

“I wasn’t serious,” Steve says later after a few moments, lips all soft and gentle on your neck, rather than fierce like before, “Bout you bein’—” you can feel him shrugging, “Y’know… fucked loose.” He whispers the last part like it’s a sin.

You snort, “You turning decent on me? After railing me to death?”

“You sound pretty lively to me.” He pokes your side, “I just… woke up and remembered how much I missed you last night.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got both of us here—shit!”

“Steeeeeve,” and the sound of it slaps both you back to reality. Sleep-smashed, more tipsy than any alcohol could make him, Bucky’s giggles break the steady pattern of muffled conversation. His vibranium hand pats around for a new destination, undeterred by the disruption of his previous mission.

You can’t believe it. He’s still asleep.

“Steeeevie,” Bucky mewls again, “Lemme— lemme suck your dick, sweetheart.”

What a menace. Your shoulders start quivering as you poorly hold it back, pfffftppblffpt’s kickstarting Steve into a tizzy right alongside you.

Bursting laughter finally wakes him up. Bucky yelps once, twice, flailing like a cat caught unawares and rolls himself right off the goddamn bed.

Two hundred pounds of newly conscious pervert wallops the hardwood floor and you’re sure the entire apartment complex—if they didn’t hear the ruckus last night—certainly heard it this morning.

#marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #smut #marvel smut #reader insert #mcu

[writingtoforgetreality]

Stockholm Syndrome (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: During the fight with the Dora Milaje in his safe-house, Zemo made an exit. But not alone. For inexplicable reasons, he dragged you along. Probably because he wanted to mess with Sam & Bucky. Would the Baron kill you? Or worse?

Words: 4,083

Warnings: language, angst, fluff (?), kidnapping, spoilers for TFATWS, (Let’s put the angsty shit in this part & the fun stuff in the second one.), (Y/E/C) = your eye color, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The fight in front of you held your entire attention. Eyes focused on moving bodies, kicking, punching their way through. While you were not inexperienced when it came to battling, you preferred holding back. Bruises were not necessarily your favorite. Not these kind of bruises at least. All your ears could make out was the grunting radiating from the combat. Hence why the movements behind you stayed inconspicuous. Only when a cloth pressed against your nose & you had no choice but to breathe in, did you notice the jeopardy of the situation. Darkness enveloped you. The last thing you perceived was a dark silhouette picking you up. As much as you wanted to fight back, to defend yourself, it was impossible. All strength had dissipated. Whatever was happening, you hoped you would wake up again. This could not be how you died. You would not die.

Pain woke you up. But you were not hurt. At least that was what you remembered. Then it came to you. Someone had kidnapped you. If your eyes did not open soon, you would regret it later. Heavy eyelids slowly opened. Though it took many attempts to keep them that way. You scanned the room. There were no windows, no light which would have made that task easier. It took a few minutes to adjust to the obscureness. And once you did, you found yourself as perplexed as before. No restraints were obstructing your motions. Technically, you could up & leave. But it was never that simple, was it? The door was opposite of you. Your muscles were still sore. The act of standing up & waltzing over seemed like too much effort for you. The bleakness of the wall your back rested against was a more welcomed sensation. Your knees scooted closer to your chest. Arms raking around them, you hugged yourself. Hoping it would bring you a bit of comfort. Your brain failed to work properly. Because you were stumped. Who could have possibly seized you? Walker was busy getting his ass kicked. Lemar imitated his partner, pretty much. Sam ordered Bucky to help out & went into the battle right after. And Zemo was… Yeah, where the hell was Zemo during all of that? If you recalled correctly, he held a drink in his hand. Like you, he kept away from the fight. And then? You were aware that the Baron was not a saint. Neither were you. But you did not believe he would pull something like that. Then again, it was Zemo. Nobody knew his next step. Nobody but himself. Your foot tapped a rhythm on the cold, grey pavement. Usually, when your anxiety acted up, you distracted yourself. Fiddling with your hands or bouncing your legs. Something you could focus on that was not life threatening to your mind. The unknown beat managed to calm you down the slightest. Whoever held you hostage would be back soon. Your gut feeling told you so much.

Maybe you dosed off again. Because your body flinched when a creak reached your ears. Quickly, you looked around for possible threats. The only thing that had changed was the door sitting ajar. Only a diminutive gap. It was noticeable due to the light illuminating the room. There was no piece of furniture which meant that nobody lived here. It resembled a cell. But even cells had a bed, a chair. Something. The room turned dim again but only for a second. A shadow, you figured. Your captivator was here. So close, in fact, goosebumps erupted. A chill ran down your spine. This single interaction could modify your imprisonment. You still needed time to consider a successful escape plan. Which meant that you needed to observe the person keeping you here. Movies displayed such situations more than once. It was manageable. If they decided to show themselves & reveal their identity. Your eyes fell to the boots first. Black or a dark brown that was not detectable due to the lack of brightness. Next were the pants. Black again. The end of a coat came into view. Dark grey, almost anthracite. Your thoughts instantly went to one person. You could be mistaken. He was not the only one with a coat like that. Your gaze flickered up to his hands. The leather gloves were proof enough. Your (Y/E/C) eyes locked onto his brown ones. There was no shock written over your features. After all, deep down, you awaited this sight to be met with. As much as you wanted to withhold it, your eyes rolled & the sigh that left your lips was one of pure exhaustion. Zemo never made a secret out of it. His dislike for you started off the moment he first laid his eyes on you. From then on, it only seemed to increase steadily. You were a simple person. If someone treated you like shit, you returned that favor with pleasure & ten times worse.

“You are awake.” he stated the obvious after his frame entered through the doorway.

“Pretty sure I’m still dreaming.” you replied sarcastically, your elbows propping onto your knees. A smirk formed at the corners of his mouth. Whatever you said, it was the wrong thing.

“You dream about being locked inside a small cell? And I make an appearance as well? This does sound problematic, (Y/N). Nothing I would not be able to help you with.” he enjoyed this. Disgust made itself shown onto your face.

“Yeah? How could you possibly help me with that?” it took you a second to fully realize what you said. Immediately, you corrected yourself. “You know what? I don’t even wanna know.” your head rested in your hands, slightly embarrassed by turning this conversation awkward. Maybe it would have been more convenient if you just kept quiet. Zemo chuckled shortly but did not comment on it again.

“I assume you wonder why you are here.” the Baron observed your small frame on the floor. It was easy to recognize how uncomfortable you were.

“Your assumption might be correct.” your head tilted upwards, trying to hide the fear. Burying it deep down. You needed to think clearly so you could escape him.

“Would you like me to declare your purpose?” he questioned, eyebrows raising.

“Enlighten me, Baron.” you wasted no time with your reply. Maybe you imagined it but you could have sworn that his muscles tensed up when you called him by his title. You were the weaker one here so you kept your jokes at bay.

“I have no desire to get involved with the Wakandans. A getaway is more enjoyable with a suitable associate.” his hands gestured & you fathomed the seriousness behind his words.

“Oh, so that’s what I am now? An associate? Could’ve sworn I was your enemy. Improvement, I guess.” you focused on a lighter spot that interrupted the evenly dark color of the cement wall.

“I never declared you my enemy. That is solely your imagination.” Zemo stared at you but you would not give him the satisfaction of holding eye contact with him. He did not deserve it.

“I prefer my imagination then.” you stated & earned another chuckle from the Baron.

“Our departure is soon.” he let you know & left you alone once again. Great, so he did have a plan for you. But it did not seem like he wanted to murder you brutally. Basically, you could do nothing. The lock of the door clicked. No way out of this room. And your cellphone was no longer with you. He probably removed it from you while you were unconscious.

The drug Zemo had you breathe in really affected you. Tiredness rushed through you still. Falling asleep once again was inevitable. A steady, loud noise stirred you from your slumber. When your eyes opened, the chair you were seated in felt familiar. Your surroundings were not new to you. It was Zemo’s private jet. No sight of him. No sight of Sam & Bucky. The only company was the engine of the small plane, creating a ringing in your ears. Surprisingly, you were well rested. Your sleep schedule was messed up. On a good day, you slept for three hours. On a normal day, though, you were lucky if the dreamland even invited you in. Did that mean that you should thank Zemo? For drugging you? Your gratitude could stay inside, for now. It was kind of embarrassing to admit that you had enough rest because of him stunning you. All it would do was feeding his ego. He had enough of that already. Would it be clever to hop out of a plane that was thousands of feet in the air? A clever suicide mission, maybe. Zemo would not harm you. If he truly wanted to, you would be a ghost already. Where was he anyway? Certainly, he would not leave your side after kidnapping you. A look down your lap confirmed what you had feared. The trembling of your hands was noticeable. Almost worse than usual. If push came to shove, you could defend yourself perfectly fine. The Baron did not strike you as a fighter type of guy. Sure, he could handle a gun. In reality, the one thing he could really handle was his alcohol. If you had been in a cell for almost ten years, you would not be able to cope with this world either. Now that you were thinking about it...when was Zemo not drinking? Ever since you guys had teamed up, he had taken every chance to get some liquor into his system.

“How are you feeling?” a voice startled you. The cause of it was your dear captivator. His strut brought him over to you, taking a seat right opposite of you. Plopping down onto the soft cushion with a sigh, he intertwined his fingers in front of his chest. His chin rested on the back of them. The intensity with which he eyed you was unsettling. Your body curled together, shifting away from his rigid glance. The man in front of you frowned. Never before had you behaved that way. Usually, you were sarcastic, humorous. Your current state was uncommon. The fight or flight instinct kicked in. If you played by his rules, the cards were on your side. So the only natural thing was to answer him.

“Okay.” it was short but the tone held much meaning.

“Okay is not good.” he mumbled quietly, though you could still make out his words. The clouds outside of the window you were sitting next to looked like cotton. Smooth, soft. Perfect if you wanted to jump in. The sunset colored the sky in various, bright hues. A phenomenon. That was something that had always fascinated you. “Astonishing, is it not?” the silence broke when he spoke up yet again. You nodded, still gazing outside.

“We will arrive soon.” another voice joined you. The startle from your side could not be stopped. You hated how jumpy you were. Especially during such a situation. The strong, independent woman you usually were was gone. Right now, you were like a little girl, awaiting punishment for misbehavior. Apparently, the Baron was a mind reader because he soothed your worries immediately.

“You did nothing wrong, if that is one of your concerns.” he started. His eyes then flickered to the other man on the private jet. “Thank you, Oeznik.” small smiles were exchanged between the two of them. The assistant disappeared through a door again. Zemo being the only company left.

“Where are we going?” you had to know.

“Somewhere safe. Where nobody can locate me.” as his eyes met yours, he finished. “Us.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. His explanation was not helpful at all. You were still left in the dark. Your destination was unknown but he assured you that you would be safe. Zemo would never lie about something so significant. This bugging feeling was still present. If he did not tell you more about the location, maybe he could elucidate this.

“Why me? Why, out of everyone, did you kidnap me?” slight anger was behind your eyes but one could only notice if they looked precisely. The Baron’s head tilted. In amusement, you guessed. His forming smile held a hint of another emotion you could not quite identify.

“Kidnapping is such a harsh word, don’t you think?” was it mockery you could hear? “I believe there is no need for us to repeat our previous conversation. I told you why you’re here.” he stood up from his seat, dragging his body to the very end of the plane. There, he picked up two small glasses. The liquid of the half empty bottle of scotch poured a good amount in both of them. Evidently, one for him & one for you. His hand stretched out towards you & he offered you the drink. You eyed it suspiciously. While you were not one for drinking alcohol, maybe it would assist to calm your nerves. In the end, you reached for it, touching his hand in the process. The skin contact sent an unintended chill down your spine. Goosebumps were forming. The pit of your stomach felt odd. Never before had you experienced such a sensation. Though, & you had to admit that, it was everything but unpleasant. Your body language spoke louder than you would have liked. And it did not go unnoticed by the man in front of you. To avoid an awkward tension, he decided against commenting on your body’s reaction.

The first sip made you wince. A burning sensation washed down your throat. The Baron handled his alcohol way better than you did, that much was obvious. Unfortunately, the liquor did not numb your anxiety right away. The effect was awaited but luck was not on your side. Would it be rude to ask for another drink? The downside was not realizing how strong it was. If you got wasted then Zemo could take advantage of your state. Depended on how he defined taking advantage of you. The conversation that had died down for a while was resurrected. This time, it was you. This shocked not only you but also him.

“I don’t like you.” you stated monotonously.

“I am aware.” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“You don’t like me either.” one of your eyebrows raised.

“An incorrect assumption.” his hands gestured to emphasize his words. You rolled your eyes, throwing your arms up in frustration.

“A freaking obvious fact.” you breathed out, falling back into your chair. The softness caressed you tenderly. A hum left you & your previous desperation was replaced by some sort of relaxation. Why did your emotions change so quickly? One moment, you were scared. The next, you were furious. Then, you untightened. All in the presence of the man who had kidnapped you.

“What is going through your mind right now?” seemed like he was eager to talk to you. Comfortable silence with Baron Zemo was not possible. It was either awkward or not quiet at all. Your head snapped into his direction. He was deep in thought. Occupied with whatever his mind came up with.

“I-I don’t know.” you were being honest. Spending more time with him meant no lies. At least not about such things. The next question came naturally. “What about you?” one corner of his lips lifted slightly. The first step in the right direction. Deep down, Zemo was aware that you did not exactly hate him. Liking him would be too far but at least, you tolerated him. Accepted his presence.

“I am quite fond of bringing you with me. Sam & James are irritating. Helpful but irritating. You are a delight to be around.” he confessed & you had the urge to call him out on his ridiculous behavior.

“Sounds fake but alright…” your annoyance was audible.

“I beg your pardon?” he abandoned his glass, placing it on the small table nearby. Elbows propped onto his knees & his upper body leaned forward, closer to you. But not close enough to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Ever since we met, we’ve been arguing non-stop. This is the first normal conversation between us.” your fingers pointed to him & then to you, signaling what you were talking about.

“Arguments are not an indicator for antipathy.” Zemo explained.

“Oh, they’re not?” the sarcasm was more than obvious. “What then?”

“They are concealing true emotions, burying your urges deep within.” casually spoken, as if he had prepared this exact speech multiple times before.

“My urges?” you questioned, making fun of his statement.

“Indeed.” he wore a winning smile & you hated the effect it had on you.

“Sure.” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “My only urge is to punch yo-“ both of your heads turned into the direction of Oeznik who unknowingly interrupted your conversation.

“We’re here.” he claimed, nodding briefly, & left you alone again. By the way his face changed, he looked like he was sorry for bothering the two of you. Truthfully, you were glad that he joined you because without him, you would have said something regrettable.

Paris. He dragged you to France. If your situation were any different, you would have felt excited to be here. Before you exited the private jet, Zemo threatened you. If you had the glorious idea to speak up before you arrived at your destination, you would regret it later. Basically, you thought he would kill you. Of course you had no clue that the Baron would never hurt you in any way. After all, you were a victim of his kidnapping. Whether he called it that or not. The small alleyways were decorated with narrow buildings sitting next to each other. The cobblestone street underlined the atmosphere perfectly. Eyes wide, you were overwhelmed by the impression of the beauty of the sweet town. When one of his hands reached for yours, you did not even flinch back. Because, if you were honest, it felt good. Your intertwined fingers brought you warmth. A feeling that spread out through your entire body. Sparks, almost like the beginning of a firework, started forming. The sun shone brightly. Your eyes closed contently. Hence why you did not notice Zemo watching your every move. He reminisced your features closely. The sunlight brought out the beauty of you in a way that was worth remembering. Your body sensed something. It was in your nature when someone stared at you. Carefully, your eyes opened, showing the (Y/E/C) colors that glowed almost mysteriously in the light. Warm brown ones locked onto yours. The two of you exchanged an honest, almost shy smile.

“What?” your head tilted to the side, observing his face. Looking for a sign. Any sign. But Zemo was a clandestine guy. It was almost impossible to look through him. Something inside you took that as a challenge. Maybe you could make his walls come crashing down. Maybe you were the one to change him. Wait. Why were your thoughts running down that road? He was the person to take you away from your friends. The sympathy that started building up was wrong. That much you knew. Resisting felt like a tough task. What did he say during the flight? Something about pushing down your urges. This was the first time you understood the meaning.

If you thought the town was pretty then the apartment you entered was stunning. It was on the top floor. Spacious, furnished in a minimalist way. Overly white, accentuated with colorful artwork. Special pieces to complete the look of it. It screamed expensive. The process of taking everything in took a few minutes. It was overstraining. In the best way possible. You should screw down your excitement. After all, you were part of an incredibly dangerous situation. But you let his touch linger on your skin. Just for a fraction longer. If you really wanted to, you could have retreated. Something told you that Zemo would not have forced you to hold onto him. That thought alone calmed you down a little further. Technically, he was not a stranger. Throughout the missions you had performed together, with Sam & Bucky, you two had become acquainted with. You were associates, apparently. And associates were not supposed to fear one another. Then again, associates would not kidnap each other. Your body was overthrown with mixed signals. Unknown what was wrong & what was right. Your friends would probably describe you as insane, reckless. Maybe you were. Maybe the last few weeks had formed you into a different type of person. That type who sympathized with a criminal. With a criminal who broke out of a high security jail. Since when had criminals become your type? And why were you starting to think in a very friendly, almost amorous way? Looked like you really were insane.

Who would have thought the Baron to be an excellent chef? Definitely not you. But here he was, preparing a meal for you. This was actually pretty sweet of him. His body behind the stove & his eyes focused on the task. It was a sight for sore eyes. Only, of course, if he were not Zemo you were referring to. While he cooked, you set the table. He assured you that you did not have to but it felt like the right thing to do. It was the least you could do. What were you even saying? He kidnapped you, for God’s sake. Your body, your emotions, should be damned.

“Is this something you do often?” Zemo’s question caught you off guard. For a moment, you halted in your tracks. Cutlery was being put down. A deep breath left your mouth.

“What?” your bewildered expression made him chuckle. Funny to watch your perplexity.

“Living in your head more than in the present.” his proclamation cut through the tension.

“I…um, haven’t realized that, actually.” you answered awkwardly. Your hand raised to the back of your head, resting behind your ear.

“You do. When spending time with Sam & James. And now. It is quite entertaining.” he eyed you closely. It made you slightly uncomfortable.

“Why?” your curiosity got the best of you. That was nothing new. Even before he brought you here, your nosiness was on of your more obvious characteristics.

“Because the light in your eyes shifts. You are more at ease. Not to forget your smile…” Zemo trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice a little softer than usual.

“What about my smile?” you really were curious. Would it be in your favor or not? There was only one way to figure that out.

“It differs from when you are actively engaged in a conversation. The corners of your mouth lift in a softer way. No hesitation or restriction.” he finished, his sparkling brown eyes meeting yours. Due to the embarrassment, you could not keep eye contact. So you averted your gaze, facing the almost empty plate in front of you.

“You talk like you’ve known me forever.” your whispers were almost missed. The tone so quiet, even your racing heart was louder.

“I am simply skilled at reading people. You facilitate that process, actually.” every single word he spoke made so much sense that it almost did not make sense anymore. There was no other way to describe it.

“I do? How?” your constant short questions were amusing to him. On one hand, you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as possible. On the other hand, you inquired every single time he finished talking.

“I assume it is because you do not fear opening up to me & letting me in.” people who did not know your history would have believed you two had been friends for years. By the way he discerned the small, almost unnoticeable details about you. Details you did not even know existed in the first place.

“You assume an awful lot, Baron.” you teased, eyes moving to his face gingerly.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” but you could not. Because it would have been a lie. A smirk made its way onto his face when you did not give him a reply. Unintentionally, you mimicked his expression. He had you. Right here, he had you. And he was not the only one aware of the shift in the situation. You were just as deep in it as he was. It was a game with fire. Who would get burned in the end?

~to be continued~

Published (04/28/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @msmarvelsmain, @friday18eo, @crackerjackharkness, @waiting-for-motivation, @obsessedwithfandomsx, @friday18eo, @bibliophilewednesday, @princess-yuna, @trenton007, @pedropascallovebot, @your-lovers-heart, @stressedoutsteph (thanks for your support <3)

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