#I wish I could've seen his hair all pulled back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wlntrsldler · 12 days

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I know, this is gonna hurt our hearts.

But PLEASEEEEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

could you write something that includes

A scene of Y/n and Annabeth after Luke’s betrayal and Annie ask’s Y/n to change her Hair style since Luke isn’t there to do it.

Luke and Y/n were inlove and obviously Annabeth and Y/n are close but Annie made Y/n earn her love just like Thalia did with Annabeth 😭

i wish i hated you | luke castellan

i. hoping life brings you no new pain. i rearrange my memories. i try to rewrite our life.

when annabeth found you in the ares cabin, tears streaming down her face, she looked at you in a way that she hadn't in years. there was anger in her eyes, betrayal and hurt evident on her features. the last time she looked at you like this was when you returned from your quest from your father, nearing death.

you'd woken up with annabeth sitting on the corner of your bed, nearly dozing off as she sat up. luke had been released from the infirmary days prior and was immediately sent off to tend to his counselor duties, much to his dismay. he made annabeth promise him that she'd be by your side when he couldn't be. he didn't want you to wake up alone.

when she saw you groggily wake, she jolted from her seat, face morphing in concern then anger when you had the audacity to smile at her. she burst into tears, repeating the words, "i hate you!"

alarmed, you immediately wrapped your arms around the nine-year-old's body, trying to get her to calm down. she balled her hands into fists, trying not to hit you as you were healing from your wounds.

"annie, what's wrong?" you asked, confused at what could've made the girl so angry. "what's happening?"

"y-you promised!" she sobbed, clutching onto your blood-soaked shirt. "you promised me you'd be careful! you promised that nothing bad would happen to you. you promised."

two days ago, you were thrown around by a minotaur, breaking nearly every bone in your body and were coughing up blood, but somehow, hearing the brokenness in annabeth's voice hurt more than all of your injuries. you thought about the promise you and luke made to her before you went off on your quest; a promise that she would not lose another family-figure in her life, like she'd lost thalia, a promise that you'd return in a few days, triumphant and ready to teach her how to improve her aim in archery, a promise that you'd come back with stories from the city and your first real date with her brother outside of camp.

"they said you died," she cried, rubbing her eyes with her hands, "they said that your heart stopped working."

"annie, i'm okay," you tried to tell her, hoping that your words would bring her some sort of comfort. "see? i'm okay."

"but you weren't," annabeth replied. her big brown eyes looked up at you, bottom lip quivering. she was shaking. "l-luke hasn't slept in days."

your heart dropped at the mention of luke's name. he refused to let you go on the quest without him, even going so far as to bribe the person you chose to let him switch places with them. you refused at first, but quickly learned that your efforts were wasted. once luke castellan made his mind up about something, there was no room for argument.

that's how it was with you. the minute luke realized how he felt about you, there was no pulling back for him. he loved you, truly, deeply, completely. it was something that everyone at camp knew, annie especially. she'd seen the way her brother looked at you, how he cared for you. you were it for him.

so when you and luke returned to camp, unconscious, all annabeth could think about were her first days at camp half blood, watching her brother fight for his life while mourning the loss of thalia. it was a type of pain that was too much to carry for a seven-year-old, and it didn't get any easier two years later.

a year after your quest, when luke returned from his failed one, annabeth said the same words to him when he found her at breakfast. i hate you. but it was the furthest thing from what she actually meant. luke sulked on your bed for days, partly because the whispers and judgment from the campers was beginning to be too much for him, and partly because he felt like he was losing his family again.

now, as a twelve-year-old annabeth marched into the ares cabin, ignoring the complaints of your siblings, those words left her lips again.

"did you know?"

you sat up in your bed, confused, "know what?"

"about luke."

"what about luke?"

she furrowed her eyebrows, head tilting to analyze your face. you looked calm, worn out from the day's festivities, and ready for bed. you wore the bracelet that luke made you for your anniversary on your right wrist, where it permanently stayed on your body since you received it. annabeth bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry. she was exhausted.

"he did it," she whispered, knowing with just one look at you that you had no part in luke's plan. "he stole the bolt."

you froze for a second, then you let out a strained laugh, shaking your head, "good one, annie."

you fluffed your pillows behind you, trying to keep yourself busy because your thoughts were rushing at a million miles an hour. you began thinking of luke's distance, his coldness towards you, his secrets that you knew he kept. you tried to tell yourself it was just because he was tired of being at camp half blood, being 19 and shackled to this life, but you should've known it was more than that. you just didn't want to believe it.

"y/n," annabeth gulped, placing a hand on yours. you stopped your actions, looking at the broken girl in front of you. her tears left streaks down her face.

your eyes pooled with tears, engulfing her in a hug. she buried her head into the crook of your neck, letting go of her tough facade and sobbed into your arms. you wanted to do the same, but you couldn't. not right now. she needed you to be strong.

annabeth slept on your bed while you stayed up, unable to close your eyes to rest. you were afraid of the dreams you would have tonight. your dreams always starred luke castellan, whether they be replays of the memories the two of you made, jumping into the cold water of the lake to escape the summer heat, or training with each other but getting too distracted in the love of it all that your 5-minute breaks turned into hours of pointless conversations, pretending that the both of you lived a normal life.

you weren't ready to have those dreams tainted. not yet.

ii. our shadows dance in a parallel plane. just two different endings, you learn to repair and i learn to keep me in one place.

"annie, what's got you so worked up today?" you asked, nudging the girl. she'd been giving everyone attitude all day, including you, and you didn't know why.

"nothing," she replied, shaking her head. she piled her food on her tray and walked away from you.

you dropped the serving spoon and followed her, "annabeth chase."

annabeth flinched knowing that you only used her full name when she crossed a line. she sighed and turned around to face you. you placed your tray on the table, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for her to explain.

"it's just--" she sighed, her voice suddenly quiet, "some girls were saying stuff about my hair and i know it's not looking its best right now so i've been really on edge about it."

"who was it?" your tone was cold and it made annabeth's eyes widen.

when annabeth first met you, she was guarded. she was mourning the loss of thalia and she was mad at luke for being so open with you so quickly, as if you could somehow take thalia's place. she pushed you away, partly because she was too scared to care for another person the way she did and lose them, lose you. she learned that in the life of a half-blood loss is normal. it's expected. but it didn't make it hurt any less.

you, more stubborn than anyone she'd ever met, kept trying to break into her world and it wasn't long before annabeth felt her resolve crumbling. how could she not when you cared for her more than she deserved with how she treated you? how could she not when you were the first person to bring a real smile to her brother's face? how could she not when she watched luke fall in love with you with every giggle, every stolen look, every squeeze on his hand?

and you loved annabeth like she was your own flesh and blood. you knew that she and luke were a package deal, a family, and you welcomed her with open arms. you grew protective of annabeth. you became the voice of reason in luke's head when he took his older brother duties too seriously, like the time she developed her first crush, or when she was named head counselor despite her young age. annabeth knew she could count on you.

"y/n, it's fine," she gulped, voice dripping with resignation, "it's not just that, i guess--uh, luke used to do my hair, remember? and since he's been gone, i haven't found anyone to do it for me."

"yeah, i remember," you muttered, looking down at your feet for a moment. you'd walked into the hermes cabin and found luke braiding annabeth's hair a few times. annabeth would be sitting crisis cross on luke's bed, talking his ear off as he nodded along from behind her, only half paying attention to what she was saying because he was too focused on getting the young girl's hair perfect.

you'd lean against the doorframe and admire them until they noticed your arrival. if you drowned out the bunks along the walls of the cabin and muffled the sounds of campers running around outside, they were the perfect picture of a brother and sister living a normal life, close as can be.

annabeth would be the first to notice you and she'd tilt her head up in greeting that had luke grumbling because "she needed to sit still," but then his eyes would follow annabeth's line of vision and a smile would appear on his face. you'd sneak a kiss to his lips that had the girl grimacing despite not seeing it happen, and you and luke would laugh, before you would take your place on the stool in front of annabeth. she'd have the conversation with you then and luke could focus on his task.

"do you..?" you trailed off, clearing your throat. "do you want me to try to do your hair?"

"would you?" she asked, hopeful. it was more than just her hair that she was asking about. those moments when luke and her would sit in the hermes cabin together were some of her favorite memories. she missed talking to him about anything and everything. mostly about his relationship with you. she'd give him ideas for dates, things that you'd like, and he'd enthusiastically thank her, even if he already had those things in mind.

annabeth just needed a sibling. she had plenty in the athena cabin, sure, but she wanted a sibling that wasn't obligated to call her a sister, but rather chose to because they wanted her. you'd never once made her feel unwanted.

"i can try," you said, sending her a shy smile. "i can't promise i'll be great at it, but we can go to the ares cabin after we eat?"

"that sounds good," annabeth replied. there was sorrow swimming in her eyes, a longing that you'd seen when you first met her at camp half blood. "thank you, y/n."

the hunch to her posture made your throat close up. it was a heavy burden for her to carry and if it was up to you, you'd shoulder it on your own to free her from it. "don't mention it, annie."

iii. no matter how guilty i still feel saying it, i wish i hated you.

"y/n?"

you rolled over in your bed, rubbing your tired eyes. in the moonlight, you saw annabeth's silhouette at the edge of your bed. she was wearing her pajamas and hoodie. the braids you did on her two weeks ago cascaded down her back.

you sat up in bed, "what's up, annie? it's late. you should be in your own cabin."

"i know, but i couldn't sleep," she rocked back and forth on her feet. you wondered if you ever looked this young. annabeth was always larger than life when she was with the other campers, a warrior, head counselor, the wisest daughter of athena, but there were moments like this one where it was evident that she was just a child. alone and terrified. "do you think we can take a walk?"

you were slipping your feet into your shoes before you could answer, you nodded and tiptoed out of the cabin, careful not to wake your siblings. you let annabeth lead the way as you softly shut the door to the cabin. there was a bite in the air, a soft breeze that swayed the leaves on the trees. you tugged on the sleeves of the sweater you always slept in, running your fingers over the loose threads from being worn out.

the sweater was luke's. he left it in his drawers when he left camp that night and nobody dared to touch the former counselor's things. his side of the hermes cabin stayed frozen in time; an unmade bed with wrinkles in his sheets, his left shoe poking out from underneath his bed frame, pictures of you and him messily taped to the walls.

"do you think he thinks about us? about camp?" she asked. her voice was so soft you almost didn't hear it. the hooting of the owls was louder than the voice of the girl beside you. "do you think he regrets what he did?"

your mouth felt dry. you blinked a few times, pulling down the sleeve of your sweater to touch the bracelet that you still couldn't bring yourself to get rid off. you licked your chapped lips, wincing at the pain from the cracks, "i-i don't know, annie. it's hard to say."

"well what does your heart tell you?" she tilted her head to look at you. "you know him better than anyone else. what do you think?"

"i like to think that he does," you settled for that. you didn't know if luke regretted his decision. you haven't seen him since that day, not since he placed a longing kiss to your lips, which felt like an omen now that you look back at it, before disappearing to talk to percy.

it was hard to think about what luke was feeling now, but you like to think that he did miss you, miss annabeth, even percy. you know you would if you were in his position. but maybe luke had changed. maybe he wasn't the person you'd grown to love anymore. the thought of it made you ill. would you recognize him if he appeared in front of you right now?

you always believed that in every life you'd know luke. the threads of your life, your being, your existence, would always cross somehow, some way. you believed that you'd recognize him by the sound of his steps, confident and strong, but gentle enough to not incite panic or danger. you'd recognize him by the sound of his breaths, even and calm, except when he would be near you, then it would falter for a second like you'd knocked the air out of his lungs. you'd recognize him by the smell of the air, easy and light, like how it felt to love him.

but you didn't know anymore.

"do you hate him?"

the foliage under your feet crunched under the weight of you as you trudged through the cabin grounds. the sounds of camp seemed to subside as if the whole world was waiting for your answer. your voice wavered when you finally found the courage to speak, "i wish i did."

there was an understanding that settled between you and annabeth as she followed your steps. the world resumed, as it always did. the two of you here in camp half blood and luke somewhere else out there in a place that neither of you could reach. she looked out into the mountains, "me too."

#frances replies #frances writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #this one hurt #frances song fics

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onestopfanficshop · 9 months

Text

babysitter's club

pairing/warnings: hobie brown x f!reader; she/her pronouns used! cursing, some smooching, potential misuse of british slang (i'm sorry brits 😭), no phonetic spelling of hobie's accent, mayday being chaotic and adorable, reader and hobie talk about their future (kids), hobie and reader get to pretend to be domestic homeowners for a night, absolutely illegal amounts of fluff

word count: 3k

author's note: WOW okay. this took me over two months (?!?) to write. this is what happens when you take summer classes to get ahead 😔 but ANYWAYS! i hope you guys enjoy this!

"Only give her the one with carrots and the apples if she gets really fussy, okay? Tonight is peas, and... she's made it very clear how she feels about peas, so, good luck," you heard Peter say, chuckling as he closed the fridge and explained more of Mayday's feeding schedule to Hobie.

"Do I look okay?" MJ asked, stealing your attention away from the scene in the kitchen as she fussed with her hair in the hallway mirror.

"You look absolutely perfect," you reassured her, slightly adjusting the necklace that she was wearing. "Make sure you don't forget your umbrella though; I heard it was supposed to rain."

You saw the boys approaching you two from the kitchen and broke out in a grin.

"You lovebirds have nothing to worry about. We'll take good care of Mayday. Right, Hob?" you said, glancing sideways at you him.

"Yes ma'am," he confirmed, giving you a two-finger salute.

"If you guys need anything, just call, okay?" MJ said over her shoulder, stepping through the door that Peter was holding open for her.

Do not call, Peter mouthed when MJ's back was turned, pointing his two fingers at his eyes and then pointing them at you two. You waited until the door closed before you started to giggle.

"Looks like somebody's trying to get shagged tonight," Hobie chuckled, leaning against the living room wall as Mayday giggled happily from where she was seated on her playmat.

"Hobie! There is a child here for crying out loud!" you say exasperated, swatting at his shoulder.

"What? It's not like she knows what that means, love," he responded, looking at you with a lazy grin.

"Can you just—at least attempt to behave, please? I'm not trying to babysit two babies tonight, thank you very much," you say, rolling your eyes as you plant your hands on your denim-clad hips, eyes raking over the messy state of the living room. You made a mental note to pick up Mayday's toys off the floor before MJ and Peter came back.

"Listen, all I'm saying is—,” he pauses, crouching down in front of Mayday and picking up a toy that she had dropped to give it back to her. "If my theory's right—which it most definitely is—we'll be babysitting two babies in no time," he said mischievously.

"Oh my God. You did not just say that," you said, moving to sit cross-legged to the side of Mayday. You tried to stay serious, but you're unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

"I'm only teasing, promise," Hobie grinned. "You wanna order in?"

"Already did. Wanted to be 100% certain that I was the one who ordered," you say, learning to the side a little as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and unlocked it to check the status of your delivery.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Hobie asked innocently. Your thumbs pause their scrolling as you look up at Hobie, utterly unamused.

"Because I absolutely will not be bombarded with those ridiculously spicy wings you got for us last time. Genuinely unhinged behavior on your end to not warn me," you say, shuddering as you recall the horrors that your tongue experienced last week. Hobie threw is head back as he laughed, watching your face curl up at the memory.

"Ah, I wish you could've seen it, May-May," he told the child, his face lighting up as he heard Mayday giggle upon hearing his laugh. "Her eyes were so bloody red, like this," he said, chuckling as he pointed to the sleeve on his shirt.

"He's exaggerating, honey; don't mind him," you say, tickling Mayday under the chin, causing her to laugh even more. "My eyes were not that red, Hob," you protested as you smiled at Mayday.

"They absolutely were. I have photo evidence," he rebutted.

"Wha—you took pictures?!" you ask incredulously, whipping your head towards him. "Hobie, I swear on everything, you better dele—"

You're interrupted by the sound of rapid knocking on the door, causing Mayday to make a startled noise as she fearfully grabbed at your arm with her tiny hands. Hobie made his way over to the door as you tried to soothe the girl.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, honey," you say soothingly, hoisting her up and holding her snug on your hip as you untangled your legs to stand up. "It's just the door, bub." You watched as Hobie kicked the door closed with one leg, balancing the pizza on one hand while he locked the door with his other hand.

"Dinner's served," Hobie said triumphantly, setting the box down on dining table.

"We gotta get you your dinner too, huh, May?" you said, gingerly setting her down in her high chair before you tugged open the fridge. You squinted, staring down the rows of puréed baby food before turning to Hobie. "Which one of these are we supposed to give to her again?" you ask, picking up one of the cold jars and turning it over in your hands.

"Tonight is P-E-A-S," Hobie says, recalling what Peter told him. He leans on the kitchen island with his forearms as he skims the paper with the list of instructions that MJ and Peter left for you two. "And then after that is her bath, and—"

"Why on Earth did you just spell pe—"

Your sentence is cut short by Hobie swiftly covering your mouth his his large hand, eyes going wide.

"She hates 'em," he whispered. "Even sayin' the word P-E-A-S throws her into a hissy fit."

"Okay, well—," you throw up your hands in disbelief before planting them on your hips. "When she sees the jar of green P-E-A-S, I'm pretty dam- dang sure that she's gonna know what they are," you pointed out, catching yourself before you swore as you tugged open the drawers to find a tiny spoon for Mayday.

"Nice save," Hobie said, smirking as he took a seat at the dinner table in front of the baby.

"Listen, if she's gonna be upset eating this, you have to be the one to feed her," you sighed. You pulled the jar out of fridge and set it down in front of Hobie, along with the spoon.

"Why me?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Because she literally adores you?" you replied, as if it was common knowledge.

"Who doesn't?" he said, grinning.

"Alright, funny guy. We'll see if you're smiling when you have the 'vegetable-that-must-not-be-named' thrown all over you," you said, smirking as you opened the pizza box to help yourself. Hobie's hand covered the lid of the jar, and he gave it a firm twist, opening the jar with a pop.

"That's not very fair, love, innit?" he said, frowning at you as you got up to tuck a bib around Mayday's neck.

"It's actually very fair, in my opinion. This is payback for destroying my taste buds last week," you say, settling back into your chair and giving him an expectant look.

"You're never letting that go, eh?" he said, shaking his head. He scooped some of the food onto the baby-sized spoon, gauging Mayday's expression as he cautiously moved the spoon towards her mouth. The baby tentatively accepted the food, tasting it for a second before she scrunched up her face in disgust. Just like you predicted, she spit the food out of her mouth, nearly missing Hobie's shirt as she let out a short wail.

"Uh-oh," you say smugly, taking a bite out of one of your pizza slices. "You having fun yet?"

"May, c'mon," he pleaded with the infant, ignoring your quip. "S'not that bad, I promise," he said, trying to get her to take another spoonful. But Mayday remained defiant, turning her head to the side when Hobie brought the spoon to her mouth again as she let out little cries of frustration. He set the spoon down with a sigh.

"Man, why even make her eat this if she hates it?" he asked to no one in particular, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Kid’s clearly miffed. I say we give her the one with the apples n' the carrots."

"Absolutely not. You get babies on the sweeter stuff now, and they'll never touch vegetables again," you declare adamantly, sliding the baby food over to yourself. You turned around and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer behind you.

"Look, Mayday!" you say cheerfully. You grabbed the spoon, scooped out a bit of the purée, and slathered it on your pizza slice. You mentally prepared yourself for the taste before you took an exaggerated bite, and the infant watched you curiously.

"See? It's really good!" you reassure her, encouraging her to try a spoonful of her food again. This time, she accepted the food from you, although her face still scrunched up every time she took a bite.

"You're a bloody baby whisperer," Hobie said in awe. "Are sure she likes it now?" he asked, taking note of the faces Mayday was making.

"Yeah, she just—" you paused, scraping out the last of pea purée and feeing to her. "A baby's gag reflex is closer to the front of their mouth. That's why they'll sometimes make faces when they eat a new food. Doesn't mean they hate it; they're just trying to decide if they like it or not. Right Mayday?" you say. The baby cooed in response, drooling out a little bit of her dinner. You lifted up the corner of her bib and wiped off the food that had gotten around the corners, and Hobie grinned as he picked up the empty jar, rotating it around and showing it off to Mayday.

"Nice job, kid. Did all that on your own," he said grinning, holding his palm up for a high five (Mayday ended up missing his palm almost entirely, but when you have limited fine motor skills, it's the effort that counts).

"Good job, May!" you beamed, pinching her cheeks. "Alright, lets get you cleaned up for your bath, yeah? We gotta let Hobie eat," you tell her, picking her up from her high chair.

"Finally," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"So unbelievably dramatic!" you called over your shoulder as you carried Mayday to the bathroom.

Bath time, thankfully, went relatively smoothly (well, minus the part where May tried to play the "water drums", which got an ungodly amount of water onto the floor and subsequently, onto you. You're 99% sure Hobie taught her to do that at some point and made another mental note to lecture him about it later). After you dried her up and got some lotion and baby powder on her, you changed her diaper before getting her into her pajamas. By this point, she was pretty exhausted, and you could see her little eyes fighting to stay open as you laid her down in her crib.

"You were awesome today, May. Get some shut-eye for me, okay?" you said softly, kissing the top of her head. She was already asleep before you even finished your sentence, and you smiled at her one last time before you turned off the lights and quietly shut the door.

Hobie's head turned away from the TV at the sound of your footsteps padding on the floor, and he looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

"You look like you've gone swimming," he remarked in an amused tone, looking you up and down.

"You try giving a hyperactive eleven month-old a bath," you reply, sighing as you plopped down next to him on the sofa. You looked down at the splashed cuffs of your jeans before shrugging. "It'll dry, right?"

"For sure," Hobie nodded. "But aren't most eleven month-olds hyperactive?"

"Yeah, but most eleven month-olds aren't Mayday," you say, chuckling as you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

"True that," he laughed, draping his arm across your shoulder.

You two sat in a few minutes of comfortable silence, watching as a random 90s romcom played on screen at a low volume before you spoke again.

"Hey, Hob?" you ask.

"Hm?" he responded, still half-focused on the movie.

"I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest," you say. You adjust your position so that you're lying on your back across Hobie's lap, hands folded on your chest. He tears his eyes away from the screen and gives you his full attention.

"What is it, love?" he asked, brows furrowing slightly as he looked down at you.

"Did you teach Mayday to play the drums with water?" you ask, fighting back a smile.

"No...," he said mischievously, raising his eyebrows at you.

"Hobie!" you exclaimed quietly, trying not to wake up Mayday as you slapped his thigh.

"Nah, I really didn't. Swear down," he said truthfully, laughing softly as he put his hands up in protest. "Really, you oughta be lookin' at Gwendy for that. She let the kid have a go at her drums once—it was adorable. I mean, also terrible, because she kept missing the actual drums, but still adorable."

"Oh my God, that is too cute. I would've paid money to see that," you replied, fighting back a yawn.

"Yeah? I think Pav and Miles got it on video. I'll have em' send it to you," he chuckled, tracing random shapes on your cheekbones with his thumb. "You tired?"

"Yeah, but...," (this time, you let out your yawn) "...don't let me fall asleep here. I still have to pick up May's toys and put them away. Don't want Peter and MJ coming back to a mess," you sighed.

"Already did that, love," he said. You let your head loll to the side as you looked at the corner of the living room—sure enough, the toys were all neatly put away in the toy chest, and Mayday's playmat was rolled up and tucked away.

"You're an actual lifesaver," you say. You're about to let your eyes relax before you remember another thing, shooting them open again.

"Shit. I gotta do the dishes," you say. You're about to sit up before Hobie plants a hand on your torso, gently pushing you back down.

"Took care of that, too. And recycled the box. And the jar," he tells you, grinning down at you. "I'm a world-class babysitter, c'mon now."

"And a world-class boyfriend," you say, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. He grabbed both sides of your face and started attacking your face with kisses as best he could at the awkward angle, causing you to let out a giggle.

"Hobie! You're gonna break your neck," you protest against his lips.

"Mm, small price to pay for getting to kiss you," he said, smiling.

"Nuh-uh, because then you'll have to get surgery, and you'll have to go through physical therapy, where they give you a bunch of instructions on what to do to get better, and we all know you hate being told what to do–"

"Alright, alright, point made," he laughed, giving you one last kiss before sitting up straight.

"God, I had no idea that taking care of a baby for a few hours would make me this tired," you sigh, rubbing at your eyes. "How on Earth do Peter and MJ manage to do it every single day?"

"Yeah... s'kinda mad when you really think about it," Hobie said pensively. "I mean, it's non-stop from the moment they're born 'til they move out. Guess you gotta take it day by day, yeah?"

You made a small sound of understanding, pondering what he said.

"How do you feel about... y'know, having kids? Like one day?" you ask quietly, craning your neck to up at him.

“Why? Are you…?” he trailed off, looking at your abdomen with raised eyebrows.

“Nonono, I’m not,” you reassured him, giggling. “I was just wondering.”

"Well, of course," he replied, sinking into the couch a bit more. "I love kids. I'd wanna adopt a whole bunch of 'em. Don't know if I'd be any good at the whole parenting thing, but..." he trailed off, chuckling to himself.

"You would be. I can see the way you are with Mayday; you're practically a natural," you said decidedly. "Me on the other hand... I dunno."

"You don't know?" Hobie said, snorting out a laugh. You turned your head to look at him, frowning.

"Don't laugh at me!" you protested, swatting at his shoulder.

"M'not laughing at you, swear," he said. "It's just funny you're saying that because you were a natural with May. You'd be an amazing mum."

"Really?" you ask, craning to look up at him.

"Really," Hobie confirmed, planting a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. You started to giggle, but the sound was quickly drowned out by a loud clap of thunder in the distance. You sat upright, startled by the noise as you peered behind the couch at the windows, and you were met by the sight of a sudden downpour.

"Oh God... I really hope that didn't wake up—"

Right on cue, you and Hobie heard the static noise of Mayday wailing through the baby monitor. You sighed as Hobie gently untangled himself from you, patting your thigh twice.

"I'll go get her," he reassured you, leaving the living room and disappearing into the nursery. You flopped back down on the couch again, groaning when another clap of thunder struck a few seconds later. You heard the sound of Hobie's socks shuffling on the ground, causing you to sit up and turn your head. You were greeted by the sight of a sleepy and disgruntled Mayday, who was clinging to the collar of Hobie's worn t-shirt. Her hair was frazzled, and her poor eyes were red from all the crying.

"Aw, it's alright, honey," you said soothingly. You outstretched your arms to Hobie, and he handed her to you to hold her. She curled up in a ball against your chest, watery blue eyes looking up at you as a few more lone sniffles came out.

"It's just a bit of thunder, love. You're alright as long as we're here, yeah?" Hobie chimed in. He sat next to you now, smoothing down the red hair on the baby's head in an attempt to calm her.

"You wanna stay here with us until the storm's over?" you asked gently. May let out a soft coo in response, so you took that as a yes. You grabbed the throw blanket that was sitting next to you on the couch and draped it across all three of you, and you let your head drop onto Hobie's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and Mayday to tuck you both in. It wasn't long before the three of you fell into a peaceful sleep.

The door opened an hour later with the soft click of the door unlocking.

“Well, that was the most fun I’ve had in a while, honey,” Peter said, kissing the top of MJ’s forehead.

“Until it started pouring,” she replied, laughing. “What d’you think the kids are up to?”

Mary-Jane’s question was answered as soon as they rounded the corner. They were greeted by the sight of the three of you tangled up with the fluffy throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Hobie’s head rested on top of yours, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist. Your arms were around Mayday, who was sound asleep—a string of drool was dangling from her mouth, which was precariously close to landing on your jeans.

“Well, would you look at that,” Peter whispered, chuckling. He dug around in his pocket and grabbed his phone to snap a pic of the sweet scene in front of them.

“We’re definitely framing this.”

#hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x f!reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse #astv hobie #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv x reader

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me-loving-woso · 10 months

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Meeting the Family

Hello Tumblr and Hello readers.

This is a Part 2 of Monthly visits. Many of you wanted this so here it is.

Prompt: Ava and Lucia meet Nico and Alexia’s family.

There’s a little bit of angst in the end, and this is my first time writing angst, so indulge me. Let me know if you want a part 3.

Many things in your life have changed since you decided to take in Lucia and Ava. The morning after you convinced Lucia to stay with you, you decided to do two things. One was going grocery shopping, as your grocery in the fridge included: alcohol and a bunch of way too healthy and specific foods for your’s and Alexia's diet. But then you realized you didn't even know what the two girls liked to eat, so that was something for your future self. Second thing, and most important: explain to Ava how her life was about to change. But that was something you decided to do when Lucia was there, and hopefully, Alexia, because it was something that was stressing you out.

You woke up that day with an arm holding you down and hair in your face. It was one of the few days that you had woken up before Alexia; you gently tried, without waking her up, to move her arm for you to go to the bathroom and begin your day. When you returned to your room, you heard a faint raspy voice, "Come back to bed."

"I must get in the kitchen; the nenas will wake up soon." You say, trying not to look at her, as you know that if you'd see her beautiful face adorned with one of her most peaceful and relaxed looks, your favorite look of hers, you wouldn't be able to say no.

"One minute! I have to tell you something." She insists on trying to get you to give in.

"Okay. Five minutes, then I'm going." You concede as you get back in the covers. She pulls your shirt up to your bra and places her head onto your stomach hugging your sides, while you play with her hair. She closes her eyes and releases a sigh.

"So what was so important that you had to tell me."

"Uhmmm, that I love you?" She says, feeling her smiling.

"You just wanted me to get back in bed for a cuddle, right?" You say, poking her head.

"Guilty." She moves her head to see you, then leans in for a small kiss. She then looks at you, down at your shirt, then back at you, confused.

"Is that my shirt?"

"You mean our shirt?"

"My favorite shirt. The one that I only wear on special occasions." She remarks.

"Don't act as if you don't like that I'm wearing your stuff. Or that sometimes it even turns you on." Whispering the last part.

"Stop it, Y/n. We have children in our home! And very thin walls."

"Who said anything about sex?" You ask innocently while pushing her to the bed and putting yourself on top of her. Then you gently move her hair out of the way to slowly kiss her neck while moving your hand inside her shirt to scratch her abs.

You move your kisses from her neck to the back of her ear, whispering in between kisses. "And besides, it's not that we have thin walls. You are just loud." The room was filled with tension, soon broken by the noise of a door being shut and a child walking on the floor.

You sigh, taking off your hand from under Alexia's shirt, and you caress her cheek and give her a soft kiss on the lips. "I have to go; you can come out whenever you are ready to."

You exit the room and go and find Ava or Lucia. As you enter the living room, you see Ava scorching down to get Nala in her arms.

Usually, Nala hates when people she doesn't know well pick her up, so you were about to tell Ava to put her down, but the little dog didn't react but instead began licking the small girl making her laugh. You wish Alexia could've seen that; she would be so happy.

After a little while, you decide to interrupt her. You say hi to her, and then you move into the kitchen, making coffee for you and Alexia.

Soon after, Lucia and Alexia showed up, and you all sat in the kitchen waiting for you. You open the fridge, trying to distract yourself from the room's awkwardness, but then you couldn't handle it anymore.

"Breakfast?" You ask everyone.

They all nod, and you turn around, again opening the fridge in the hopes that there will be something for them to have breakfast. There was nothing. Again.

"How do you guys feel about going to a coffee shop?" You ask.

"Aren't people going to recognize you if you go outside?" Lucia asks.

"Usually, yes, but we usually go to a place where it won't be a problem," Alexia replies for you.

"Nico, my brother, owns a small coffee shop ten minutes from here. We can go there if you guys want."

Soon after, you drove to Nico's coffee shop in Alexia's car with the two girls in the back. Alexia would usually put her hand on your thigh while driving, but today, not knowing whether to put it there, she kept it on the steering wheel. You gave her a puzzled look, then took her hand on the steering wheel and interlocked it with yours.

As you got there, the cafè, fortunately, wasn't packed so you had fewer chances to get noticed, on the other hand, that meant that your annoying brother had less to do. Therefore he would be asking many questions.

That proved right as soon as he saw you; his face, adorned with a smile, soon turned into a puzzled look when he saw the two children with you at the table. As soon as he approaches the table, you stand up to hug him. As you were still embracing, he asked, "Who are these children? Did you kidnap them?"

"Shut up, hermano! I'm still older than you. And I would never participate in any form of child abuse! If it's not you, of course!"

"I guess you are right, and besides, I don't think Alexia would let you do that!"

He goes to hug Alexia, "How are you, sister-in-law?"

"Future, if anything, brother-in-law." She jokes. "She still has to pop the question." She winks at you while you nearly faint.

"Anyway! This is Ava and Lucia." You say, pointing to them, trying to change the topic.

After the greeting and a few jokes on your way about you having children to take care of, the morning went by rather quickly. The girls had breakfast, and you also managed to have the serious conversation that you were bound to have with Ava.

"So now we will live with you and Alexia?" Ava asks, confused.

"If you want to, you can. You can start school, have your friends over, and come to the stadium whenever you want." You offer.

"Okay." She shrugs, making you release a surprised chuckle, then resuming whatever she did before you had the conversation.

You soon realized that you had to have another conversation, this time with Lucia and Alexia, so you tried to get the attention of Nico.

"Hey, Ava! Do you want to help me bring the coffee orders?" She looks at you, then Alexia, and finally, her sister for permission.

"You can go; just be careful." Her sister replies while Ava quickly stands up from the chair and happily skips behind her brother.

You turn to Lucia and cautiously begin, "We wanted to talk to you today after what we discussed yesterday, in the hopes that you were able to process everything, and it's okay if you didn't!"

"Y/n is trying to say that we wanted to ask you if you were sure about this. And by saying this, we don't want you to think that we are backtracking because we are sure and happy to be part of your life in any way or form." Your girlfriend smiles at Lucia, taking your hand from under the table to ground you and make you relax.

"Yesterday was an emotional day for all of us, but especially you, and you made a big decision. I want you to take your time in this choice. Because I'll have to talk to social workers, Alexia too, they'll want to talk to you and Ava, about all of this. That process might be overwhelming and stressful, so we wanted to know if you wanted this too. And it's okay if you don't; we can find another solution together."

"No, no, I understand where this is coming from, but my priority is Ava right now, and maybe she doesn't show it, but she loves the both of you and wants to stay with you. And you guys have been good for us, maybe too good. Whereas for myself, you have allowed me to go back and do what I love and have a house to live in. But I have to ask if you are sure. Ava is a recovering cancer patient; she needs school stuff, clothes, food, and many more things. I don't have money to pay for that, the-"

"I don't care about the money. If I wanted to save money, I wouldn't buy all the useless shit I have." Alexia nods emphatically, earning a gentle hit on the side of you. "What I'm trying to say is we are lucky enough to not have money problems, and it has never stopped us from asking you to stay with us."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." You chuckle. "So what do you say?"

"I'm sure."

"I'll set up an appointment with the social workers." You smile.

As you got home from that day, you decided it was time for the girls to unpack; for now, they would share a room because you needed to figure out which spare room to turn into a new bedroom. This left you some time alone with Alexia, which you spend outside in your garden.

You sat between her legs while she hugged you from behind, peppering kisses on your neck.

"Come on! They tickle!" You say while she continues.

"This is payback!" She continues tickling you; after a while, you try to stand up to get away from her, but she tightens her hold on your waist.

"Okay, I'll stop! Don't go." She says, pouting.

"Okay, okay. I’ll stay." You smile, fully relaxing into her. Then you turn your head towards her giving her a kiss on the lips. After that, you turned around, closing your eyes, enjoying the closeness of your girlfriend.

Then you realized.

You were happy.

Happier than you have been in a long time. The love of your life was by your side, your career was going great, and now you had two children to make your life even more full and exciting.

"You know, I'm thinking of dyeing my hair pink." Your girlfriend says, surprising you.

"You what?" You turn to face her but can't say more before Ava runs outside with Nala toward you. She puts her arms around your neck, and you pick her up to your lap.

"Did you and your sister finish unpacking?" You ask her. She gives you a slight nod and then turns to Alexia.

"Can we get ice cream?" She asks, giving you the cute face for you and Alexia to give in.

What surprised you about all this was that she could understand that Alexia was the weaker one between the two of you and that she only had to convince Alexia for both of you to acquiesce to whatever she wanted. It wasn't Alexia's fault, though; you knew that she had a soft spot for kids and for the people she loved. It is what made you fall in love with her. The softness of her heart could only be seen by the ones she loved, and being part of that circle was one of the best things that had ever happened to you.

"Yes, we can!" She concedes without even fighting it. "Come on, let's go; we'll take Y/n's car." She says while standing up, giving you a kiss on the temple and a shoulder squeeze, taking Ava's hand, and disappearing into the house.

You stand up, too, having no reason to sit down anymore, and go inside to find Lucia. As soon as you found her, you saw her lying on the already-made bed, facepalming the pillow, making a grumbled noise muffled by the pillow.

"You good?" You chuckle, finding the whole scene quite amusing.

"Yeah, I'm good. I just hate unpacking."

"It sucks." You agree.

"By the way, where is Ava?"

"She went to get ice cream with Alexia; she shouldn't be long out."

"That little prick." She lets out a surprised chuckle while you give her a questioning look, "She told me that she would go to the bathroom and then finish to help me out, but instead, she managed to convince Alexia to get her ice cream. She's a little prick!"

"You have to give it to her, though; I wouldn't even have thought of that, at that age."

"That's very true. She's too clever for her age; it's annoying." She rolls her eyes. "And now, I have to finish this all by myself!" She points at the suitcases, still half full on the ground.

"Woah, okay! Don't be too hard on yourself; let's take a break, shall we?" She nods and then stands up, both of you going to the living room, waiting for Alexia and Ava to return.

"So, did you think about when to propose?" She asks you, smirking.

"Shhhhh, she might come in at any moment." You whisper. "But yeah, I thought about it. We were planning to go to Ibiza, so probably there."

"Uuu." She teases.

"Shut up." You throw her one of Nala's toys, blushing.

"Honestly, you would make a perfect married couple, even though it already seems like you are." You smile, thanking her, turning your gaze to the floor. "It's so weird to see such a healthy relationship. My parents were very toxic to each other; they would fight and sometimes even put us into their fights or make us take sides. I hated it. So seeing you guys mostly makes me want to puke, but also gives me hope that not everything is bad."

"Oh, believe me, it hasn't always been that way, mostly because of me. When something like what happened to us, happens, it's difficult, at least for me, to trust and accept the love someone is willing to give you. It took a lot of patience on both ends and mistakes, but in the end, it was very worth it." You smile.

Your little moment with Lucia was broken off by the ruffling of keys and a door opening, with Alexia holding the ice cream for all of you, and Ava with the small leash with Nala on the toe. You all sat on the sofa and ate ice cream together until you were full and happy.

It was time for bed, and you and Alexia took turns in the bathroom to get ready to sleep. You tucked yourself under the covers as soon as you were done, and waited for Alexia to come to bed.

As soon as she did, you turned around to see her. "So, I've been meaning to talk to you." You began, clearly not knowing how to.

Keeping a very open face, she continues, "Yeah, what's up?"

"I just wanted to ask you how have you've been. I know this whole thing might be overwhelming for you, so I just wanted to check in." You smile sincerely, waiting for her to reply, hoping for a positive answer.

"Yeah, honestly, it's a bit overwhelming; two days ago, we were just the two of us with Nala, and now there's four of us. It's wild, but for now, I'm just coping."

"You'd tell me if it gets too much for you, right? I mean, I know that this is very quick and isn't something you have chosen, but rather I did, and you gave me support, so I get it. I would totally understand if you need a break from all of this."

"For now, I'm good. And yes, I'll tell you if it gets too much, even though I doubt it."

"We can even use a funny code name, so if there are more people around, nobody will know what is going on." You joke.

"That sounds childish."

"Come on, indulge me!"

"Okay, okay. Something like what?"

"Uhm, something like Valencia?" You propose.

"Valencia?" She chuckles. "That's so out of pocket."

"You dyeing your hair pink is out of pocket." You tease.

"I made a bet with the girls that if we won the Champions League, I would dye my hair pink, and we won it, so…."

"But I thought you were joking."

"I wasn't. I take all my promises seriously." Her face turns serious, lightly pouting.

"I know you do. I think you'll look great in pink by the way. Just don't cut it short, please. I don't think I could recover from that."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Nothing is too dramatic when it comes to you." You change the topic, "So for Valencia?"

"Okay, we can use the word Valencia, but I hope I won't use it." She concedes, ending your talk in favor of going to sleep.

The first time the girls met Alexia's mom and sister was very different from when they met Nico.

It was slightly over three weeks from when the girls met Nico. And for those three weeks, you had been fighting with the social workers, claiming you weren't a suitable foster parent. They came to your home and had a bunch of interviews with you, Alexia, and the girls. For over a week, you thought it wouldn't work out, but in the end, you finally got custody of the girls.

You all decided to sleep in the morning after the big news, so it was weird when you heard knocks at your door. As you didn't want to wake Alexia, you slowly moved from the bed to go downstairs and check out who was at the door.

Eli and Alba barge into your home hectically as you open the door. "You guys are late!" Alba says while you are still rubbing your eyes.

"Hi Alba, Hi Eli. How are you? Wait. Late to what?" You ask, looking at both of them confused. Then you realize. You had organized to go to Nico’s place together. "Ohhhhh. I am very sorry. I totally forgot about it." You say, giving an apologetic look. You'd hate to disappoint Alexia's family.

"Y/n, who's at the door?" A very sleepy Alexia appears from the stairs.

"Why don't you come and say hi to your mamà?" You could see the sudden change in expression of Alexia as she realized that you had forgotten about breakfast.

"I'm so-"

"I know, you both forgot," Eli says while hugging her daughter. Then Alexia turns to her sister and hugs her too.

"It has been some hectic weeks, honestly. We have been wanting to tell you something." Alexia hesitantly sits on a chair with her legs against the kitchen countertop.

"Oh my god! Did you get engaged?" Alba says excitedly.

"Oh god again, Alba! We didn't get engaged, we- we."

"Alexia, who are those people?" Ava comes out of nowhere, completely shocking Alba and Eli.

"This is my mom and my sister," Alexia says while Ava approaches her.

"So, is this what you had to tell us?" Eli looks at you and then your girlfriend expectantly.

"Ava, why don't you go and wake up your sister and get ready? We are going to Nico to have breakfast." You explain to the young girl, making her leave the room so you can talk with Alexia's family alone.

"When did this happen?" Alba asked as soon as Ava disappeared from the room.

Alexia looked at you, offering you to tell the story.

"They needed a place to stay and some love, so I gave it to them. The girl you just saw, Ava, is a recovering cancer patient, and later you'll probably see her sister, Lucia. Their parents abandoned them when Ava got cancer; they have been in and out of the hospital and shelters ever since. I'm trying to help them have what I never had when I was a child, a home. And I love those two kids to bits." You explain, looking at the floor, trying not to look at their expression.

"You did what was right." Eli comes and hugs you while Alba is talking to Alexia.

"Do you want to meet them?" You ask when she finishes hugging you. "You met the younger one, but do you want to meet them properly?"

"Of course I do! Honestly, when I came to your door, I didn't think I would get such a piece of big news from you. Why did you guys didn't tell me sooner? I could've helped."

"We wanted to, but then things got a little tricky with the social workers, and I guess we never had the chance to."

After a while, the two girls left their room, and all 6 of you went to Nico's place to have breakfast.

As soon as Ava saw Nico, she ran to him to give him a bone-crushing hug. Nico has been ever-present in the three weeks since the two girls began staying with you. Sometimes, you would go to his coffee place. In contrast, some other times, when he didn't work, he would come by your house just to say hi or help with Ava's room, which before was your's and Alexia's other closet. It still wasn't finished, yet, but with his help, it was nearly done.

As you all got there, you all began talking to one another about future plans, school, and the World Cup. You knew that Alexia was going, but as one of the las 15, you decided not to go, especially with a coach like Jorge Vilda. You remember how badly he treated you and your other teammates, blaming you for every little mistake you would make, or losses that were caused by him poor tactics. You didn't resent Alexia for going though. You knew that after her ACL, she needed to at least participate in something with Spain, as you knew that she felt like she had to make it up for it because she wasn't there at the Euros. You knew that you would have loved to be part of that too, especially with her, but you couldn't set aside some principles, like respect.

Once caught again in a conversation with Eli, you realize, that holidays and festivities will now be no longer celebrated in two but in four.

"So for Christmas this year, we thought about staying at my house, it is easier that way, and you don't have to worry about making food or other stuff," Eli says, turning to you and Alexia.

"Eli, we can do it at our place; it's no biggy. It's going to be easier that way. Our house is bigger, and I can cook. And before you say anything, yes, Alexia will get a restraining order from me to not get near the kitchen for at least 5 meters. I already made that mistake once." You chuckle, remembering how bad of a cook she was, even though she tried hard.

Eli and Alba chuckle while Alexia is weirdly silent; you just think she is tired.

The day was spent with the Putellas family playing games while Alexia was in training, then dinner after.

You tried to get Alexia's attention as soon as they left, but she would somehow slip away from you. Maybe practice didn't go as well, or she has just been having a bad day, you hoped. You really didn't want to think about it too deeply.

As it was time to bed, you gave a goodnight to the girls and went to bed. Alexia went in first to change, which was weird since she would always let you go first, then she laid down on the bed with her arms crossed behind her head on the pillow, looking at the ceiling. You only saw her once like this: after she got her ACL ruptured.

This wasn't good.

But you still tried to hope it wasn't what you thought it would be. Trying to prolong the inevitable, you take extra time in the bathroom but know you have to face reality.

You go to bed, under the covers, laying on your side facing her, then gently swinging your arm across her waist, making small circles with your fingers on her clothed side. She didn't even acknowledge you. She couldn't. She took a small breath and repeated the word you'd always joke about but didn't expect to hear, leaving you utterly frozen.

"Valencia."

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni #woso one shot #woso x reader

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jiyeonnnn · 1 year

Text

SCHOOL B*LLY, ljn ♡︎

♡︎ pairing | lee jeno x male reader

♡︎ genre | smut

♡︎ warnings | mentions of b*llying, pwp, b*lly jeno, bottom reader, degradation, dirty talk, unprotected s*x, overstimulation, rusty writing

♡︎ summary | having an intercourse with the man you've always hated is the last thing you anticipate, but unexpected doesn't always imply bad.

♡︎ author's note | im back 😃

you've hated jeno with all your guts, and his feelings towards you are just the same, so why are you writhing underneath his control inside the practice room, moaning shamelessly as he fingers your hole?

"god~ i wish you could moan like this for me everyday, pretty nerd," he teased while pushing his fingers deeper, spreading your legs as he kissed your inner thighs. "they sound much sweeter than your annoying voice."

"f-fuck off—" you tried to retort, but was abruptly cut off as soon as jeno pressed his fingers on your prostate harder.

if anything, you could just get off of his fingers and help yourself cum, but you know for yourself that this could be the first and last time that jeno would ever touch you — you want his cock, and he surely does want you, seeing as how hard he is under his slacks.

you moaned at the thought of getting fucked by him, your mouth wide open as drool seeped to the side of your lips — god does it feel so good, but you wanted more. his sharp gaze burned through your figure, a devilish smirk carved into his lips as he hovered over you.

jeno nibbles your ear as he pulled his fingers out before whispering seductively, "if you want my cock, just beg for it~ you don't have to be shy around sunbae, little boy~"

the way his deep voice ran through your ears sent your cock twitching in excitement, and this didn't go unnoticed as the man on top of you chuckled darkly as if he had just seen a sight he's never seen before. 'he's so annoying,' you thought in annoyance as you turned your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

"y'know, if it wasn't for your sky-high pride, you could've gotten this cock right now~" jeno said, unbuckling his belt as he pulled his pants and boxers down. you know that he's not wrong, and you got even more annoyed at that. sighing internally, you reluctantly swallowed your pride as you looked at him in pure desperation.

you pulled jeno down for a kiss to which he didn't turn down. he intertwined his fingers with yours as he pinned you down hard — who knew that your bully would be the one who'd make you feel small like this? fuck that thought, you're loving this, and you'd do anything for more.

as you both pulled away, you looked deeply into each other's eyes, seduction and desires brimming up your gazes. "s-sunbae, please~" you whimpered.

"please what, puppy, hm?" jeno asked you as he gently kissed your neck and shoulders, causing shivers to run down your spine. he was softer than what he was earlier, which made you less nervous around him.

you gripped his hair tightly as you pecked his plump lips, "please, sunbae~ fuck me! i want you to use your cock and fuck me right now!" you shamelessly begged, kissing and sucking on his neck to convince him.

'how fucking needy,' jeno thought, but nonetheless he loved seeing you like this, a mess under him. it's not that he really hates you, quite the opposite actually, he's been in love with you, but you were too blinded with your desire to be the top student, and it made him do such things that he, as well, didn't expect.

chuckling, jeno tapped the tip of his cock on your entrance. "it wasn't that hard, was it?" he hummed as he started entering. you could cry at the intrusion, the unexpected stretch burn brought by his bulbous tip made you moan and squirm uncontrollably.

you've never felt this way before, it felt so painful yet so good. you hated that he's the only one who's able to make you feel like this.

you whined as you clenched your walls around him, making it harder for him to penetrate you. jeno threw his head back as he slapped your thighs, "it seems like the school's nerd likes to get fucked on the floor, huh? i didn't know you'd be that kind of slut~ what if someone sees us, hm? you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he teased as he pushed his cock all the way in.

"for someone who hates me so bad, you're enjoying yourself around my cock so much~ i guess you really like your hole getting stretched like this, hm?" his words are so vulgar, and it turns you on so much. you arched your back as you felt your prostate getting hit repeatedly.

"you're getting tighter— fuck— you like it when i talk to you like this, huh?" he commented as he put your legs over his shoulders, his thrusts never faltering down. "what a naughty fucking slut~ dirty whores like you don't deserve such cocks like this," he degraded once again. you whined, moaned, whimpered— spilled every noise from your mouth to express this addicting pleasure, and it amused jeno from how hot you look right now.

you pulled him down for a kiss as a way to suppress your noises, but jeno didn't like that at one bit as he bit your lower lip harshly. "you're gonna cum, huh? look at you moaning like a whore in heat," he grunted as he bit your tongue as well.

"s-shut up— fuck!" you tried to speak up but jeno always finds a way to prevent you, hitting your prostate endlessly that led you to the brink of your orgasm.

you wrapped your arms around his body as your nails dig deeply into his skin. your hole clenching and unclenching disorderly as you felt your climax getting nearer and nearer.

it didn't take long for your orgasm to hit your body like a truck. waves of euphoric feeling running through your body as you bit onto his shoulders.

jeno fucked you relentlessly, his cock going in and out of you as he didn't gave a single fuck about your orgasm, overstimulating you as much as he can. you were a mess at this point, your hair sticking out everywhere, sweat dripping from your forehead, and jeno enjoys this blissed out sight of you.

he held onto your hips as he pushed himself deeper, feeling his orgasm building up. he moaned curses uncontrollably as his thrusts became inconsistent before pulling you into a messy kiss. his cock twitched inside you as he cummed profusely, making him moan in the kiss.

your tongues danced with each other as he lifted you up and held you. he stroked your hair before pulling away, "what a good little boy~" he praised suddenly as he kissed your forehead.

there was no energy left in you to speak whatever you want to say, so you just lazily laid your head onto his shoulders as you pant heavily.

he carried you to the nearest bathroom to clean you up with a big smile on his face. 'maybe if i fucked you more, you'll fall in love with me~' he childishly thought.

2K notes · View notes

tkwrites · 3 months

Text

Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together?

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing.

Me and you We were a strange situation And kissing you Felt like Christmas Vacation An exciting place to escape Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one.

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before.

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music.

“Do you need a towel, man?”

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed.

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot.

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder.

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide.

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.”

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women.

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights.

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music.

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it.

“Sure,” she yelled back.

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on.

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter.

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it.

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted.

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it.

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips.

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said.

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her.

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it.

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country.

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it.

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?”

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle.

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.”

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.”

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.”

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little.

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit.

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.”

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made.

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said.

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?”

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.”

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college.

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk.

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion.

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants.

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.”

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space.

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.”

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue.

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled.

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat.

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.

“Sure.”

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest.

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake.

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi.

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released.

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay.

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin.

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted.

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered.

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?”

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer.

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach.

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come.

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness.

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision.

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling.

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn.

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried.

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name.

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside.

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank.

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left.

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions.

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother.

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot.

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.”

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.”

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd.

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained.

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed.

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.”

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home.

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.”

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning.

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin.

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together.

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.”

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard.

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app.

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over.

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet.

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“Listen, I heard you last night.”

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?”

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.”

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling.

“Is this about that girl?”

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -”

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her.

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside.

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.”

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.”

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something.

“How can we help you, darlin?”

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?”

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?”

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.”

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows.

“Is it condemned?”

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile.

“Did they find out what caused it?”

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.”

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around.

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t.

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?”

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.”

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had.

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?”

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note?

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am!

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.”

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts.

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?”

Yeah, my future, he thought.

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -”

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted.

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation.

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth.

“Someone was just here looking for you.”

Hope started hammering in his chest.

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.”

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick.

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.”

Now he really was going to throw up.

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night?

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning.

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side.

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.”

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell.

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months.

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books.

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory.

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up.

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.”

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team.

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said.

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?”

“Another team.”

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face.

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it.

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess.

“Look him up on Insta.”

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers.

She messaged him, hoping.

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder.

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life.

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight.

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest.

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it.

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2.

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting.

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before.

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be.

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks.

“Matthew?”

His head shot up.

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it.

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer.

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green?

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight.

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life.

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot.

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was.

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed.

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.”

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.”

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked.

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.”

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name.

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood.

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true.

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him.

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.”

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit.

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work.

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision.

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well.

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?”

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen.

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.”

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more.

Josh stayed where he was.

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?”

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long.

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked.

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?”

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.”

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.”

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out.

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right?

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.”

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open.

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else.

Matthew was the last at the table.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her.

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?”

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away.

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?”

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate.

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?”

“Eight,” he said.

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him.

“All for here?”

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.”

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew.

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded.

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice.

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at.

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal.

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?”

“You’re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left.

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car.

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?”

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears.

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?”

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud.

Both guys just waited.

“But the club caught fire.”

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…”

“Fucked it?” Benny asked.

“Yeah.”

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’”

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said.

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.”

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams.

“Uh, hello?” someone asked.

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring.

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor.

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?”

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him.

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down.

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said.

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results.

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes.

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?”

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.

“I guess so.”

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.”

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer.

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said.

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside.

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.”

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.”

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.”

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.”

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.”

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was.

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?”

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.”

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.”

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed.

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked.

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded.

“I’d at least give him a chance.”

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week.

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.”

She giggled.

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things.

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed.

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.”

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?”

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.”

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced.

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat.

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.”

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her.

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly.

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.”

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him.

She looked instantly downcast.

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture.

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important.

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.”

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them.

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.”

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them.

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?”

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.”

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said.

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.”

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.”

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.”

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?”

“Right. Yeah, okay.”

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes.

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this?

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked.

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?”

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants.

“That’s not fair,” she said.

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again.

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.”

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it.

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps.

“Only when I think you might come in.”

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning.

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra.

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs.

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans.

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.”

“Can you define that a little more?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…”

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it.

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.”

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink.

God, maybe they really were made for each other.

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast.

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing.

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both.

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close.

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him.

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other.

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together.

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft.

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs.

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers.

There was the passion she’d been looking for.

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs.

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him.

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough.

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.”

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again.

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too.

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused.

“Please,” she whimpered.

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone.

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs.

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles.

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her.

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body.

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?”

“Hmm?”

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

“Okay.”

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin.

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to.

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure.

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning.

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing.

“What do you need?”

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.”

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched.

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust.

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps.

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

Body shaking, she cried out.

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her.

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.”

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times.

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.”

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?”

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?”

“If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool.

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room.

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed.

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter.

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.”

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere.

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to.

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling.

“Okay?” she asked again.

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in.

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation.

God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving.

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most.

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another.

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot.

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright.

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath.

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.”

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.”

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates.

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more.

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.”

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept.

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft.

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already.

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him.

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better.

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.”

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one.

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak.

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint.

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth.

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place.

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect?

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan.

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close.

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed.

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!”

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again.

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face.

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget.

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room.

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.”

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home.

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up.

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled.

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark.

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed.

Matthew nodded.

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief.

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed.

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date.

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for.

Fanciction Masterlist

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey romance #hockey fic #hockey smut

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imrllytootiredforthis · 11 months

Note

We all have seen how considerate hyunjin is. For example when he was sharing the bed with han and han wrapped the blanket around himself so instead of trying to take the blanket back he opted to wear a hoodie instead. That makes me think of him wanting you to finger him but not telling you because you like your nails long and/or struggling to grow them so he settled for his fingers until you catch him

he's such a sweet and considerate boy~

his dirty little secret probably started off with porn, as it always does, knowing the kind of stuff he was into he just searched that up and stumbled upon a particular one with fingering in it

the next day, his mind blown, he approaches you, only to remember

and he doesn't want to inconvenience you, doesn't want you to have to cut your pretty long nails that you often talk about how much you love, that you go and get done professionally painted, showing them off to him when you get home, asking him what he thinks,

he always says they look pretty-because they do, because they look so pretty when they're wrapped around his throat or his cock,

when they're brushing all over his skin, playing with his oh so sensitive nipples and roughly pushing his face to look up at you

he regularly fantasizes about your hands, about your pretty long nails, about the way they feel on him, the things they could do to him.

there's no way he could ask you to cut them. even if he wants you to finger him sosososo bad, even when that's all he can think about, when he can't stop thinking about it.

the video becomes regular jerk-off material for him, in secret, whenever he's home alone or you're doing whatever else, attention not focused on him for the time being.

even when it's not enough, even when he knows that you fingers will feel so much better, when he can only get off if he's imagining it's your fingers knuckle-deep inside of him, stuffing him so full.

he writhes on the newly cleaned sheets, video playing in the background even though he already knows it by heart. the lube is cracked open and sitting still open on the nightstand.

his body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, his hair soaked with it, sticking to his forehead uncomfortably-

-if he could think of that.

if he could think of anything other than his fingers buried deep inside him, scissoring and stretching himself out.

he sobs at the feeling, head conjuring up things that he wishes were real.

your voice, comforting and a touch mean. your touch, warm and gentle, somehow so different from his own. your presence. controlling and all-encompassing, taking every ounce of worry from your babyboy. making his head go fuzzy, making him forget all his stress and think of only you; you and the pleasure you give him and how much he loves you and wants you and needs you.

god, god. he whines needily, grinding down on his fingers, pushing them deep inside of him. his other hand coming up to tease at his hard nipples.

"please,"

he begs. to no one in particular. to you, maybe? but you're not here. only he's here, left to his own devices, to his own fingers, wishing they were yours because he can't bring himself to ask you to cut your own.

"i need it."

he sounds pathetic, he really does, even to his own ears. you'd tell him that if you were here. call him pathetic and pitiful,

'can't even get yourself off, hmm jinnie~' he nods, sobs again, trying to go harder, his wrist burning, aching. 'dumb little puppy needs my help?'

"yes! t-touch me, please touch me!"

"you could've just told me puppy."

he jumps, pulling his fingers out when he realizes that he wasn't fully hallucinating. that the image he sees of you isn't just a vision his lust-addled brain come up with.

you step closer,

"now c'mon jinnie, use your fingers again."

hesitantly, he does.

he wonders where this is going, what you're going to do to him now.

"move them, find your prostate for me."

you come closer again, until you're practically leaning over him, brushing away his own hand on his chest, replacing it with your own.

with your hands with your pretty long nails.

he moans, long and deep, squeaking as he grazes his fingertips over the sensitive spot. "f-found it." he shakily gasps, eyes squeezing shut.

"good boy, now keep going."

"o-okay."

"so cute~can't wait until i can play with you myself." your fingers squeeze his soft lips, unable to help yourself as they fall open with a loud groan. "just wait until i cut my nails tomorrow baby."

you peck his lips. once. twice. your voice lowers a few octaves as you speak again, growing a rasp with lust. "it'll be so much fun."

#inbox💌#sorry it took so long to get to this #i promise i'll get to the other one soon #fangirlnation✧#hard thoughts #stray kids smut #sub stray kids #stray kids x reader #dom reader #sub hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #stray kids hard thoughts #sub idol #sub kpop #sub skz

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highhhfiveee · 5 months

Text

safety net [p4]

tags: pornstar!mike schmidt, fluff (cute anniversary moments, award show memories, and talks of the future), mentions of smut (videos mike has made, including pegging and glory holes, and suggestiveness at the end), angst (insecurity and awkwardness🫂). proofread, but there are potential errors ofc. i also don't know how award shows really work atm so enjoy this dramatization lmao

part three: 📹

“happy one year, baby.”

the wind whips your hair across your face as mike drops his hand-blindfold from your eyes, and your chest tightens with shock as you track your gaze over the scene in front of you.

you still couldn't believe how thoughtful mike was, even after all this time. you'd told him that you'd wanted to stay in for your anniversary, and he'd accepted your request with open arms; so much so that he'd arranged an entire set-up on his balcony.

you'd thought there would be food and lights at minimum, but you weren't expecting an entire wooden pergola strung with yellow fairy lights above a large dining table, or three dozen white roses being placed in your hands, or the small quintet playing smooth jazz in the corner, bordered by the sizzling glow of nightlife that stretched for miles behind them.

the city, bright and pulsing with energy, from this height isn't a backdrop that you'd ever expected to surrounded with, but nothing up here is anything you'd ever seen in your entire life, at least not all together in one singular place for one purpose. you're staring at everything with blank eyes, but only because the amalgamation of your feelings has you immobilized.

“do you like everything?” mike asks frantically when you don't say anything, rubbing your goose-bumped arms with gentle passion characteristic of his boyish charm. "is it enough? god, wait, let me get you a jacket." mike skitters back inside, leaving you to try and take everything in.

you'd been over twenty-four hours prior, and there was nothing that could've given away what he was up to. he hadn't let anything slip, and you're surprised that he was able to keep something so massive under such tight lock. the fact that he doesn't think it's enough, frenzied and feral for your response, bewilders you further and you're still staring at the pergola, saying to the attendant standing by, "did they put that up this morning?" when you feel fabric cloak your bare shoulders. it's mike's jacket, the same one that he'd put on you the night you met, and knowing him, it's intentional.

you whisper, "thank you", a light soundwave in the air, and mike's throwing a frown your way, walking you over to the dining table. "god, it's not enough, huh?"

there's a solid gold candelabra in the middle of the table, the flames of small candles licking at the skyline. your table settings are fancy, with silverware of different sizes, overly-starched cloth napkins, finely ironed placemats covered by a menu printed on thick cardstock, and crystal glasses that look like they must've cost mike his own arms and legs and those of his first born son.

"mike, you've got to be kidding me," he grabs the flowers from your grasp, setting them on the far side of the table before pulling your chair out for you. you slip your arms into the sleeves of his jacket as you sit. "it's definitely enough and perfect, i just...all this is for us?"

"for us," he confirms with a smirk, settling himself into his own seat. his position adjacent from you allows you to get your first good look at his outfit, considering he'd whisked you inside and shielded your vision as soon as you'd crossed into his foyer. "for me, and for you."

his crisp, sluttily unbuttoned white dress shirt and black jeans clash with your plaid argyle vest and workwear khakis, and you're blushing as you retreat into his jacket.

"no fair, how could you let me come underdressed?" you'd made your way over straight from work per his request, and with everything being so fancy and ornate, you wish that you'd fought against him for a chance to change into something more fitting.

"i didn't want you stressing about something as arbitrary as clothes tonight. you always look beautiful, work attire or not," he patiently reassures, wrangling your clammy hands into his ring-clad ones and kissing at every single one of your knuckles. "it's refreshing, having you like this."

he'd been using that word in reference to you a lot recently, refreshing, and while being mike's breath of fresh air should've filled you with an overwhelming sense of pride, you couldn't deny the strange, acidic aftertaste that it imprinted on your spirit.

you'd only become hyperaware of mike's notoriety in the porn industry in the latter few months of your relationship; sure, he'd been doing it for a decade and had a ton of videos and a slew of awards, but ever since you'd been stopping by the studio and tagging along on some of his work errands (namely holding his hand during testings), you'd started to get the picture on how massive he was in his world.

Ecstasy Sindicate, cleverly named, had been the american production company to watch over the last decade, and mike was their treasure trove, an absolute goldmine of content and charisma.

once, you'd been tasked with going through his piles of fanmail, skimming through (sometimes used) panties and bras and letters, some of them detailing people's parasocial attachments to chase cox ("want him to come in you? get in line", you once mumbled).

he was famous in this sphere; all eyes on him, his next moves, and now you. early on, you would've never believed that you'd have to private all of your social media accounts and deal with internet idiots, but when your mentions started to bubble with comments, questions, and scorn about all things chase cox and y/n, it'd finally dawned on you that you were with someone of status and that you gained some attention simply by association.

one trademark experience of this sudden breakthrough was the award show he'd taken you to a few months ago. the xtc awards were huge in the industry, completely fan-nominated and -voted. it garnered alot of buzz, helped catapult lots of people's careers, and this year, mike had been the most nominated performer.

you'd given him a wooden "yayyyy", squinting your eyes in awkward agony when he cheered, "nominated for eleven awards and get to walk to the carpet with my incredibly sexy plus one. it's gonna be great."

just the title of plus one made you feel like you were out of your league, an additional label of pressure saddled on your shoulders. you weren't just his girlfriend anymore; you were his guest, so you had to look good, and be good, and do proper guest things. you didn't even know what those things were.

mike made the looking good part easy for you, or in his words, "i'm just assisting. you're really doing all the work, beautiful."

you chose your own dress, of course. all mike asked for was permission to sit in on your fitting; an intimate meeting with one of the most sought after stylists in entertainment. you'd gaped at the tags on every single one, gasping and heaving when price figures passed from three to four, then four to five.

"this is two more zeros than i've ever seen on the price of a dress," you rasped, twisting your hips in a navy blue floor-length gown. you'd never worn anything like it; with its price first and foremost, but secondly, with its airy material and deep plunge neckline.

it made you feel confident, attaching to your body in what felt to you like kismet, and though you wanted to keep playing dress-up with all the designer pieces you were surrounded by, you knew that you'd found the one.

"it's yours if you want it, baby," mike insisted, and you made eye contact with him in the mirror, amusedly pursing your lips at his low, sultry gaze. then, you felt like you could be in his world. you could go into the award show on his arm, assimilating to the environment with an ease that wasn't just because of mike. you could belong there just for being dolled up, costumed from head to toe just like everyone else.

"cost a lot to look good, huh?" you hummed, sturdily placing your hands on your hips.

"and look good, you do."

on the ride back to his house, you'd come back down to earth a bit, pouting to him, "can i at least give you $50 for the dress?"

he'd chuckled at you, mumbling, "y/n, my love, no. it's just a rental. got it for a pretty fair price actually..."

he stopped when he caught your grimace, your thin finger poking at his arm in earnest; you genuinely wanted to give him something for it, and who was he to deny you that? you just wanted to be nice, considering what he'd done for you. he loved you for that, for all that you are; he'd weakened into you as he spread his warm hand across your thigh. "but...if you really want to, of course."

he smiled in awe at the way you cheered, eagerly fishing your phone from your bag and sending him an apple cash message; money he'd ended up giving back to you days later when you mentioned a book series you were interested in.

renting you a five figure dress wasn't the only thing he'd had up his sleeve; he'd given you an opportunity to have all your hair and makeup done by some of the best professionals in the industry. you hadn't been overly thrilled with the news, only because you didn't know how you would feel about being poked and prodded for hours. it was another part of dress-up, and while switching clothes every couple of minutes was fun, having to sit very still in a chair while people touched you was not, at least to you.

still, you'd caved, melting at mike's wild rambles about their artistry and expertise. not everyone in life got to have these moments, and there you were, feeling standoffish towards a gateway into a life of exploration.

you gave mike your strongest grin, working to maintain it through your sessions as you sat in between so many perfect people, conversing and planning with their own salaried glam teams. most of them weren't even just pornstars; the hotel you were at had put you in the proximity of some of the most notable musicians, models, and faces in the current pop culture climate, and you felt like an imposter in your own skin.

you hadn't even minded the services anyway. you'd managed some conversation with the artists, asking them about what books they liked and what their favorite cake was. you'd tickled them, and while you'd felt like you'd cracked your way in ever so slightly, you still didn't feel right.

even as your hair was swept into an intricate updo dusted with glitter, and your face primed and painted with items totaling more than your biweekly salary, you hadn't felt like you'd deserved any of it.

your idea of belonging because you looked like everyone else didn't convince you much. you hadn't done anything to be there, unlike some of the massive names you'd seen pass through the glam suite conference room; mike was your entry, and the thought made your skin prickle, as if everyone's eyes were cutting you with contempt.

the being good portion of being a guest came when you'd met mike's assistant/publicist/friend, matilda (manic pixie dream girl sans pixie and dream); she'd barged into the private nail appointment you and mike were having, jolting you both into looking up at her from your perches on the bed. she looked like a mad scientist, wearing a long white jacket with her spiky platinum blonde hair pulled into two sprouts at the top of her head. her wispy bangs skirted her eyebrows, and she raised her right one with a smile and, "oh so glad to see you two all done up, but did i miss the part about a spa day in the schedule?"

she swirled her index finger over the two of you and then jammed it into her clipboard, beginning a jovial back and forth with mike. "i wanted to plan a surprise for y/n. you know, it's my schedule and i have access to it."

"yes, but you have to tell me when you make changes, mike! we've been doing this for years, what happened to the synergy?"

you'd loved mike's act of defiance; once, you'd sleepily mumbled about how cute it would be to have matching nails as you observed his hands while you cuddled in bed, and now, he'd made that one-off moment a memory for the both of you.

"----well, you're done, yeah? we've gotta get to the venue now. they want to run a long dress rehearsals and even thinking about it is stressing me the fuck out. the bosses haven't even shown up yet!"

you were fascinated by the ability of such an event to be organized and chaotic at the same time. though mike had his security detail and team with him to keep him on schedule, there was always some instance of disarray (a missing tie, another talent going over their appointment time) where matilda had to ferociously bark into her headset, giving the people on the other end a lashing that would make anyone forfeit a career in entertainment forever.

"move, move, move!" she chants as she fans both you and mike into the backseat of a black truck, keeping her eyes on a weighty clipboard stacked with memos and call-sheets as she takes a seat herself.

"mike tells me it's your first time at something like this," she'd said during the ride, nodding towards the neurotic hand wringing you'd been doing. you blushed, moving to sit on your hands. mike chuckled at you softly, and you opened your mouth to answer matilda. you'd noticed that she'd trained her focus elsewhere, pointing her pen towards a list on paper, and then at tangible things strewn around the truck. you stayed silent until she prompted, "well?"

"um, yes. i...um, live on the south side and work in an office," you replied. "sorry, you just weren't...looking at me so i didn't know you still wanted an answer---"

matilda sucked her teeth, leering at you with an almost animated longing. "god, you're lucky. how i wish i could be normal again. assisting is multitasking hell. a lot of the time i'm not looking while i do something else, so don't take it personally. busy busy busy mind up here," she tapped a manicured index finger on her forehead, baring her frazzled, ice blue eyes at you. "busy busy."

she unsettled you, deeply, but you'd been more concerned with how you were lucky in all this. on monday, you'd be back in your cubicle, sucking down a cold brew with oat milk on an empty stomach, and she'd be surrounded by stars galore. it didn't seem like you were the winner in this situation, or at least the person living the more charmed life.

things had ramped up by a thousand degrees once you'd made it to the venue, matilda's barking happening more often than times you'd blinked.

"we have not a minute to spare, people! time is money and we waste neither!" by that mantra, you and mike were dressed from head to toe in what felt like a blink. he was being whisked away for rehearsals soon after, leaving you alone in the green room with your phone and a tower of fancy sparkling waters contained behind a gigantic clear fridge door.

you'd cracked one open, bringing it to your lips when matilda, who should've been with mike, poked her head into the room and glared you down. "use a straw, and hold it away from your dress. you want that deposit back, don't you?"

you'd entertained yourself for the last hour by trying every flavor of sparkling water you'd seen and ranking them on a tier list; you were on cranberry limeade when mike and maltida strolled in, breathing out, "some of these flavors are unnecessary," with a small burp at the end.

your silly little moment had distracted you from what was actually happening, and the pit in your stomach, created by the imposter syndrome brewing within you, began to expand again as matilda guided you and mike to the auditorium breezeway for the red carpet.

matilda swiped at your flyaways, fine tuning you for getty images before moving onto mike. she adjusted his rings and pins before pulling out a small tin of product to touch up his hair; he griped at her, hissing, "no thank you. there's already enough shit in it."

"i know you love the tousled look, but this is your first red carpet with your laaadyyyyy," matilda sang, rubbing some pomade between her palms and reaching up to comb it through mike's strands, forgoing his pout. "best if you don't look like you've just come right from the passion set."

you were provided with the rundown while you waited for your turn to walk the carpet. "okay, it's not that much of a deal. it's all about angles, so i hope you know yours. don't worry too much about what the photogs are screaming at you either. they're here for you, not the other way around. make sure to smile, but not too much; if you can, smize and keep all your emotion above the nose like this----"

matilda demonstrated for you, a dramatic motion that you genuinely attempted to follow, but mike held out his hand in exasperation, prematurely halting the antics. "just follow me, baby. you'll be fine," he kissed at your forehead, taking your hand in his as he led you from the shadowy hall. "you look damn amazing."

besides his nails, he'd coordinated with you in the sweetest ways; colored accents on his suit, opting for a handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, your initials embroidered into the fabric in navy blue, and gold cuff links to pair with your jewelry. it comforted you to know that he was flaunting himself as your counterpart, feeling dignity at the fact that you were his other half. you nuzzled into him, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his palm. "you don't look half bad yourself."

though you'd never let go of mike's hand throughout the stop and go, you'd still been overwhelmed with it as a whole; every flashbulb, "chase, chase! over here!", "tell us about the special lady!", and abrupt movement down the line, commandeered by a suddenly militant matilda, was unfamiliar to you. you were sure that mike felt the tension erupting throughout you, and you tried to find solace in the feeling of his touch, whether it was on the small of your back or waist or hand. he never left your side, and you were grateful for his chivalry, though it couldn't overpower the overstimulation you felt.

your overactive brain had stiffened you, causing you to transform into a sentient two by four, and you'd gripped for mike's shoulder, turning into his body as the harsh lights burned the skin of your exposed back. it was embarrassing, cowering like that. you'd heard matilda calling, "face out! face out!" from the end of the stop and repeat, but it felt almost impossible; you couldn't think of any angles, the yelling photographers made your head hurt, and how the fuck did you smize?

mike had turned to his side, wrapping his arms around you and showering you with kisses. he'd managed to loosen you up enough for a candid smile and laugh, and you worked to throw your face towards the lights again, closing your eyes and giving them your best grin. you'd caught matilda giving you both two zealous thumbs up when your eyes opened, while she exaggeratedly squealed, "love it!"

you were just starting to have fun, mike dipping you for an "oh, so romantic!" photo-op, when your upside down vision locked on amelie, beginning her own walkthrough a dozen or so feet from you.

you understood why she was the most popular girl on Ecstasy Sindicate's website; she played femme fatale on and off screen, and in such an effortless way, using her eyes and ever-glossy pout in her favor. she oozed sex appeal monday through sunday, and besides her striking beauty, it almost felt like a crime to you that she was more enticing with her clothes on.

the sheath silhouette and queen anne neckline of her black dress sculpted her body perfectly, a tear-drop crystal-adorned shawl draped so delicately over her narrow shoulders trailing past her long legs as she strolled. her dark hair had been flattened pin-straight, held back with silver bobby pins to showcase the gigantic diamond earrings that dangled from her lobes, shimmering in the light as opposed to her low, dramatic smize.

that's how you did it.

the demands from the media shifted, ringing around you as you gawked at her from mike's arms, right side up now. "the money maker!" "turn for us, show it all!".

"give us chase and michaela together!"

mike looked to you like he was asking permission, and it made you feel icky. asking you for permission meant that he'd been clued in to your feelings, and you couldn't handle the thought of him knowing that you were genuinely envious of his coworker.

"yeah, go, go. you don't have to ask."

he'd handed you off to matilda at the end of the carpet, placing a soft kiss on your lips before marching over to amelie and pulling her into his side by her waist. you tried to maintain your calm, reminding yourself that this was work for them, but it was almost impossible to look past their effortless connection; it was disgusting the way they fawned over each other, complimenting clothing and hair and body parts with steady glances and bubbly laughs.

"makes your shoulders look very broad, is that what you were going for?" amelie's hands grazed over his shoulders and down his arms with a lazy appreciation.

"well it's not working since you have your legs out. i mean, c'mon they overshadow everything."

you'd been close to combustion watching amelie rest her hand against mike's pec, covering the personalization on his handkerchief as the cameras flashed at an inhuman tempo for the two of them. she slid into an easy pose, melting into mike as he tightened his grip on her hip. "over here! over here!" "looking good as always you two!"

"god, they're hot together," matilda confessed, biting at the cap of her pen. with a quick cut of the eyes to you, she jumped, face-palming and erratically musing, "sorry, they're just our most popular pairing and whew, we can all see why. so she's a bit taller than him? they both ooze insane sex appeal, and the chemistry! that's what attracts the people. height doesn't equal hotness, attitude does. remember that, y/n."

they were hot together, and while a part of your brain imagined your body pressed between the two of them, it took everything in the physical you not to cause a scene, shoving your way between them and ruining all their shots with middle fingers and boob shots, nipples and all. you were willing to fight back, but you could only think about how bad it would look on mike for your insecurity to impede on his night.

inside, you were sat at a table with mike and a few of his other coworkers. amelie sat across from you; she'd almost looked bored, mouthing a few tired phrases to those around her while you openly observed her being. matilda had encouraged mike to network with some insiders before the show started, and you'd used that time to stare, trying to uncover what made her so...her.

you'd tried to be more covert with your reconnaissance when mike returned to his seat, placing his hand on your thigh with a kiss to your cheek as the ceremony began, but she'd caught you every time, tossing you a flirty wink when you lingered for a moment too long.

mike had won so many awards that night; it was a clean sweep on all of the major categories---choice male performer, performer of the year, video of the year, production company of the year---and you'd thanked god for it; the frequent announcement of his name allowed you moments where you didn't have to focus on the woman across from you ogling him like he was a piece of meat. you were able to hug and kiss him in such a possessive fashion, maintaining amelie's surveil of you each time you pulled away.

mike included you in all of his speeches--"and to my beautiful girlfriend, who's been by my side through this entire year". the camera panned to you a handful of times, and you smiled shyly, giving a bashful giggle here and a dismissive wave there.

you'd gloated in it, wondering what you'd do during the next cuts to you, but they never ended up happening again. mike had skipped over his gratitude for you and your support during his last win... choice pairing with amelie.

they gave each other a tight hug at the table, dashing up to the stage hand in hand, and the sheer amount of people standing and clapping for them had you withdrawing into your seat. this is what millions of views, wicked sex appeal, and allurement got you, you'd inferred.

"and finally, i have to thank michaela here. really, we have to thank each other. i wouldn't be standing here accepting this award with her if it wasn't for her and all of our loyal fans out there, so thank you, thank you, thank you."

amelie took the award from him, leaning down to the microphone with her tongue skating over her teeth. she bit into her lip, stating, "chase basically took my speech and switched the names so, everything he said, thank you, thank you, thank you."

they laughed along with the audience, holding onto each other's arms as they kissed each other's cheeks, and while it's a friendly gesture, you noticed how amelie casually lifted her hand to his face, stroking at his freshly shaven jaw with a coy smirk.

you pushed past the agony you felt inside, rubbing mike's arm and offering him a tight smile as he settled back beside you, buzzing with adrenaline from his eventful night. "seven awards tonight, baby. fucking crazy, huh?"

you nodded, cutting your eyes to amelie as she snidely added, "all well deserved. we'd all know." the entire table erupted into amicable laughter, everyone congratulating mike with a personal quip of some sort. these people were a close knit unit, a chosen family in their world of adult entertainment, and though you were happy that mike was surrounded by so much love and support, you'd briefly wished that you two had been in some living room, watching trashy reality game shows and complaining about working your 9-5s the next day.

you'd opted to zone out for the rest of the night, mindlessly allowing for yourself to be subjected to many undoings of fabricated gaudiness. mike had noticed your exhaustion, and gave you time to yourself so you could clean up and decompress on your own terms, which you were thankful for. you loved him, but you needed time alone to cleanse yourself of the night you'd had.

you didn't leave the bathroom until your skin was rubbed raw and you were feeling a bit lighter, ready for the return to your world when you stumbled upon a cracked dressing room door.

low volume drum and bass music mingled into the hallway air, and you'd caught the back of amelie's relaxed silhouette moving from left to right over a dusty-looking vanity counter. she turned after a bit, whispering, "want some?" matilda appeared from somewhere, reaching out for something in front of amelie and tapping it on the table over and over until she leaned down herself, sniffling harshly against the laminate. amelie watched, a wicked smile etched onto her face as matilda coughed lightly.

"fucking shit."

you'd been stuck in place, glued to watching them snort another line of whatever was in the little baggie amelie pulled from her personal bag, and you were stupid enough to stay where you were as she turned, peering at you with a languid smirk as she wiped at her nostrils, pulling on them with her index finger and thumb.

"welcome to our world, girlie. wanna try?" you were sure you looked like a scared little kid as you shook your head frantically, your voice cracking as you said, "i don't know where you got it from, so no."

"oh, don't worry, my stuff's safe. mike's done plenty," she winked at you again, beginning to stroll over to you, but you'd moved on without an answer, heading to the venue exit where mike waited for you, cradling you in his arms as you ventured into the parking lot.

"so," he prodded, stroking at your hair as you laid across his lap in the backseat of the chauffeured car. his voice was tired, and while the lilt usually broke up anything ailing your mind, you'd been too focused on your interaction with amelie. "what did you think of your first award show?"

"it was fun," you lied, pulling your hoodie sleeves over your fingers. it'd been fun until your self-doubt took over, suffocating you with obstructive thoughts and a deep-rooted feeling of dread. "never thought i'd get to experience something like that. amelie even offered me coke."

he didn't say anything to that, and you'd adjusted yourself so you could see his face, the deep grimace upon his features and clenched jaw shrouded in moonlight. "did you do any of it?"

"no, but she said you'd done plenty." you didn't mean for your displeasure to come through so intensely; you hadn't minded that mike had done coke, only that amelie had been testament to it. what other compromising, intimate positions had she seen him in, and would she always hold them over your head? why hadn't he told you about it?

"that was a long time ago," mike cautiously stated, flipping you over in his lap so your face was level with his abdomen. you were poised to ask him for an elaboration when he traced hearts over your lips with his smooth fingertip, grinning, "you don't have to worry about me and that stuff, okay? i'm just glad you said no. it's refreshing."

there it was. he always said it when you were experiencing something from a world different than your own, and it made you feel like you were something to be ogled; something on a pedestal that had been recently unearthed when all you were was...you.

he felt so lucky to have you; a girlfriend that was normal after so long of being with people who knew the industry like him, the ins and outs of it like the back of his hand. he loved that you didn't have your days planned out months in advance, and that you didn't need a daily hair and makeup appointment just to sit in the house; he especially loved that you were turned off by amelie's reckless offer, but you hated it. you hated that it made you feel like a nobody, and felt odd at the way that he was so beguiled by your normalcy, entertained by the fact that this was all foreign to you.

"this sounds like self-sabotage," your therapist had said, eyeing you with careful consideration. "mike loves that you're 'normal', doesn't he?"

"yes, but..."

"but? isn't being 'normal' being 'yourself'?" you didn't mention amelie like you'd intended to. it felt pathetic to admit that you wanted her stature, the label of someone or at least someone on the same level as mike.

it didn't feel good being normal next to...not normal, and it felt hopeless to you that you couldn't change it. you could, maybe even becoming mike's new partner, but the thought of putting yourself wholeheartedly on display like mike and amelie didn't inspire possibility in you. it wasn't what you wanted to do, and the small sliver of attention you'd gotten from people who wanted to fuck your boyfriend was enough for you on any given day. you knew any more attention would tip you overboard, but was normalcy really your destiny?

it gnaws at your insides, and you're defeated, wondering why couldn't you be happy with anything.

"baby," the sensation of mike gripping your chin brings you back to his balcony. you blink your eyes, flustered at the fact that you'd dissociated during your anniversary dinner. the attendant is standing with wine bottle in hand, and both her and mike are staring at you, puzzled. "are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm sorry. had a rough day at work and my brain's just a bit...blah," you nervously giggle, reaching to move your wine glass towards the neck of the uncorked bottle. the music playing ambiently around you is almost comical in this moment, and you scrunch your face into an strained smile. "fill 'er up."

get it together, you scream at yourself. mike had put this whole thing together for you two, and here you were, letting your mind wander to places that it didn't need to be. you were here with mike, celebrating the fact that you two had been together for an entire year.

claire had cheered when you called and told her, squealing, "your longest relationship!! congratulations, my sweet, deserving friend, and thank you for telling me this time."

it was the longest you'd ever been with someone. taking the risk, once again falling for someone on a whim, had panned out better than you'd hoped. all of those times of lost love had led you to the greatest one you'd ever known, and here you were, pitifully ruminating over the way that amelie had touched mike during their acceptance speech and the fact that you were saturated with so many complex feelings.

you take a sip of your wine, more like a gulp, and mike chuckles at you, nodding towards the bottle. you follow his motion, leaning in to read the label. it was a shiraz that you'd babbled on and on about, one that was nearly $1500 and almost impossible to get if you didn't know someone who knew someone who knew someone.

"mike..."

"aht aht, that's not even the part i'm most excited about," he boasts, flicking at the corner of the cardstock on your placemat. you lift it to eye level while you take more moderate drinks of your wine, piecing together the five courses of...your favorite foods.

"elevated versions of your favorite foods," mike corrects giddily, and you hadn't realized you'd said anything out loud. he's smiling so wide at you like he always does, and you're speechless, all of your words caught in the middle of your throat. "this three-star michelin chef---"

"mike, i'm sorry to interrupt but, this feels very...me centric. it's our anniversary." you didn't deserve any of this. if he'd been able to take a peek inside your head, he wouldn't be doing all of this for you. he'd realize that even a love like this couldn't remedy the trauma you'd collected in your brain, existing and newly sprouted. not a year in, at least.

"fair, but i want to celebrate you," it's like a movie, the way the quintet shifts their performance into a warm, romantic melody and how mike takes your hands again, squeezing them periodically. you squirm under his scrutiny, fluttering your eyes to your lap. "you've changed my life, y/n, and i'm not exaggerating. every date, every night we've spent here or at your place, every call, every text; everyday i get with you, i realize i am so fucking lucky."

you're not really a sentimental crier either, but mike's words and the turmoil inside of you have tears splashing down your cheeks. "i love you. i will never stop telling you i love you."

you chuckle stuffily, a blubbering, sobbing mess as you say, "i love you, mike. thank you for all of this, and uh...i'm really sorry for calling you a nice guy when we first met. i don't deserve you." he joins you with a deep belly laugh that rumbles through the both of you, and it helps you breathe some tension away. "water under the bridge, baby, i promise. you deserve everything."

the first course, brioche rolls with truffle oil-infused butter, is presented to the two of you, and you forgo all of your concerns, murmuring a mildly perky, "oooooh" as two are piled atop a fancy plate in front of you.

mike encourages you to stuff your face, and you do so with no question as you two coast through your decadent and mouthwatering favorites, washing down the best flavors money could buy with a wine you'd only ever gotten to drink in your dreams until tonight.

you and mike carry conversation over your meal; goofily moaning at the tastes dancing over your tongues and you giving mike the usual scoop about your day at the office. he listens intently and laughs at your tales of inexperienced clerks getting papers stuck in copiers and messy, HR-avoidant affairs between bosses and subordinates, and you try not to lose yourself in the moment again. you've managed to stay with him through four courses, enjoying his immense generosity and engrossing gossip, and you want to keep it that way. you'd already let your mind wander once, and you wouldn't let it happen again. not tonight.

unfortunately, your plan unravels when your sauce-smeared plate of seafood alfredo is removed from before you, replaced with a clean, simply presented slice of chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

you'd always told that the preference was silly, and no matter how hard you fought to explain that chocolate cake was more moist, no one listened to you.

your mom made you chocolate cakes with chocolate icing, or vanilla with vanilla, but never chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

mike reaches under the table to settle his hand over your thigh, rubbing at your skin through your pants. his face, painted orange by the candlelight, softens at the way you gaze down at your plate, shadowing the cake slice in a strange mix of melancholy and joy.

"made sure there were no questions about it. my baby likes chocolate cake with vanilla icing, so that's what she's gonna get."

you feel tears stinging at your eyes again, and you're using the backs of your hands to wipe at them, shrinking away from mike. "i'm sorry. i don't know why i'm crying. it's just a stupid piece of cake."

"no, it's not," mike murmurs, leaning into the table so he's able to talk to you closely and bring his hand to your left cheek, thumbing at the wetness there and sliding his caress to your jaw. his rings are cold, but you still melt into his touch, bringing your own hand up to grasp at his wrist. he touches you like this often, but tonight, it's the perfect antidote for every adverse feeling that's run its course through you. he is wholly yours like this, and there's nothing in your head that can tell you that this isn't your destiny. "that 'stupid piece of cake' had me thinking about some things."

"mmmm, what kind of thoughts could my cake preference have inspired in you?"

"settling down," mike answers matter-of-factly, maintaining his strong gaze on you as your entire body burns through your clothing. you swallow hard. "the cake is you. it's something you like, and when i...put it on the menu as our dessert, i couldn't stop thinking about how i wanted to eat chocolate cake with vanilla icing with you for the rest of my life."

you give mike an intimate laugh of cynicysm, primed to say, "yeah right," when he interrupts you.

"listen. i hadn't said anything about it yet, but...the company's physically expanding, internationally. the bosses wanted to have consistent yearly growth here in the states before even thinking about taking it overseas, and after almost fifteen years in business, we've met all of our goals and we're in the process of penning a partnership deal with a production mammoth. they've got offices in london, paris, tokyo, and sydney, and there are gonna be Ecstacy Sindicate divisions in all of them."

"oh, baby, that's amazing!" you applaud, throwing yourself from your chair to embrace mike, climbing into his lap and squeezing him so tight, he's sure he'll explode. he chuckles, tingling with electricity from your elation, and he scoops you into a cradle, meeting you with his boxy, enthusiastic smile. "mikeeeee, that's huge."

"i know, right? this is going to change everything, and i..." mike pauses, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as he absorbs the feeling of you against him, your arms wrapped around his neck while you stare at him with curious, twinkling eyes. "i want you to be by my side through all of it. i want to take everything i get from this, every cent, every ounce of fame, everything; i want to take it and invest it into us, and our future. you have dreams and goals and aspirations, and i want to see every single one of them come true. i will help every single one of them come true, no matter what. i want the world to be ours."

you can't believe that mike is saying these things to you right now, hiding away in his neck as you try to comprehend what he's telling you. he wants to be with you, and have a future with you; one where all the benefits and rewards he reaps from his career also shower upon you, one where you never have to worry about a thing ever again in your life. he wants you to know love, care, and support for the rest of your life, in every way, shape, and form, and this opportunity will guarantee that.

you're happy for him, of course. he'd shown you so many things, but you knew that that kind of access didn't come easily. he'd truly worked for everything he'd had, and you wanted him to keep on an incline, working his way to the zenith. you'd be with him every step of the way, you promised. you loved mike, and you always wanted him to win. this was winning, and to be a part of it with him gave you hope.

"as silly as it may sound, you saved me, y/n." mike is extra serious now, and you're opening yourself back up to him when you feel his finger skim the underside of your chin. "i was headed down a dark path before you divinely intervened, and i intend to spend every single one of my remaining waking moments showing you how grateful i am for that."

"oh, mike..." you dissolve his sugary musings with a long, heated kiss, punctuated with soft moans and sharp inhales of feverish air. your three cups of wine have finally hit you, and the alcohol-induced buzz in tandem with mike's words have you itching to ask him to finally fuck you on the table after everyone's been dismissed. "i love you so much. what's the timeframe for the expansion?"

"if everything keeps going smoothly, li and i leave in four months."

your stomach gurgles with nausea at the nickname; you hate how easily it rolls off of his tongue, and hearing it has you pulling away from him in distaste. you lift yourself from your perch on his lap, awkwardly settling yourself back in your own chair. "are there any more drinks?"

"y/n," mike presses dispiritedly, gazing at your profile with somber eyes. you keep your stare towards the attendant, who rushes over with a opened bottle of champagne you couldn't even begin to pronounce. she makes moves to pour it into your empty glass, but you withdraw the bottle from her hands, thanking her as you take a long, ill-mannered, anxiety-ridden gulp from the opening.

champagne is pretty fucking gross, you think, but you're not doing this for the taste. her image had disintegrated from your mind, but it haunts you again now; how could she, of all people, really get to fuck your boyfriend domestically and internationally?

mike snatches the bottle from you after a moment, eyebrows set into a deep furrow as he observes you sloppily wipe at your wet lips with your fingers. "did i say something wrong?"

"you just seem to love working with amelie," you bark, instantly sighing at your testiness. things are doubling in your vision from your foolish attempt to chug champagne in order to feel anything other than inferiority, but it's no excuse to self-sabotage what you've been given. after pouring out his entire heart to you, promising you a future of possibility and ease, you're internally strangling yourself for being so rude. "i'm sorry. i know it's not like that, i just---"

"baby, we're the whole reason why ES is even getting this opportunity. they were nearly bankrupt before li and i got there, and over this last decade, we've worked so hard to build it to what it is now. we get millions of views, bring thousands of subs daily, and make them so much mone---

"okay, yeah, but there are just so many other people for you to work with," you pout, and you hate the pity that swims in mike's eyes as he peers at you. you feel like a baby, not a mid-twenty-something merely wrestling with feelings of inadequacy because of your boyfriend's (beautiful, seductive, cunning) coworker, though these feel equivalent in your swampy mind. "what about that girl who pegged you in that one video you know i like, or that person from the glory hole video? people lovedddd you two together."

"y/n," mike's firm tone ceases your whining, and you want to cry all over again for being you. "we are celebrating one year together tonight. right now is no time for you to be thinking about li, okay? she's my coworker and she's my friend, nothing more. you trust me, don't you?"

even though mike's persistent use of her nickname chips at your heart like marble, you work to use logic and fact to calm yourself down.

he'd made so many videos since you'd been officially committed, and none of them, even the ones he filmed with amelie, had stopped him from sweeping you up in affection-heavy hugs, complete with annoyingly romantic squeals and soft kisses peppered all over your face and neck every time he saw you after production. mike was yours, yet the thought was often overridden with thoughts of him being ripped away from you, amelie paying you a deft wink as she took him to worlds that they'd created together; worlds that you had no idea about, considering their decade-long friendship.

what was up with you?

"y/n," you jolt as you feel mike's hand softly come down on your cheek, causing your eyes to cut back to him. you burn in embarrassment for the billionth time in your life, sighing. "use your words. do you trust me?"

"yes, mike," you mutter, forcing the words out. you did trust him. you always had, and you knew you could. he'd never given you any firm reason not to, and you had to trust that he never would. "i trust you wholeheartedly."

he pats your face now, pairing his smirk with a lustful gleam in his eyes that you catch immediately. "good girl. you have nothing to worry about, i promise. now," he holds his hand out for you, coming in close to graze his lips over your ear. "how about we go to the room and unwind, hm?"

you're nodding without a second thought, sheepishly thanking the musicians and attendant for all of their hard work as they pack up and mike helps you to your feet.

he's blowing out the candles and hitting a switch to turn off the pergola lights when you squeak, "wait mike, the cake! we didn't get to eat it because of me."

you frown, and mike tugs you into his body, pressing his lips against your forehead and murmuring, "it's okay. there's plenty left," his mouth coasts against your neck, light kisses fluttering against your jaw as he propositions, "we'll eat some in bed after i eat you, yeah?"

for once, you and your mind are on the same page.

cutiessss but also uh oh, uh oh trouble in paradise? i guess we'll just have to wait and see, hm? let me know what you think!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire is writing stuff #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt angst #faire says #the tides are changing #everyone has secrets 🤫

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luveline · 1 year

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hi!! i was wondering if you would write more ab spencer, r, and baby amanda from your single dad au? :o they’re so precious <3

Thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.6k

"How come you aren't hungover?" Spencer asks.

You can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. You're waiting for Hotch to finish his decathlon, the girls in their sunglasses, Jack and Morgan holding a homemade sign aloft.

Amanda's sitting on the barrier with her weight against Spencer's chest, her soft brown hair splayed out against his collar like a wave.

"I know the meaning of moderation," you say with a sweet smile.

You might be imagining the pinking of his cheeks. "Not moderate enough, clearly," he jokes.

JJ hadn't picked Henry up until three in the morning. Which is fine, Spencer will take Henry whenever he needs to, as per his self-ordained godfathering duties, but when JJ hadn't appeared at 11 like she'd promised, Spencer had obviously been worried.

"Things got a little… out of control." You dip your face to his ear. "I've never seen Emily dance like that. It was crazy."

"I wish I could've been there, but we had a date with Edward Tulane, didn't we, Amy?"

Amanda tips her head back at her father's affectionate tone. "Daddy, I can't feel my butt."

"Not your butt!" he says, taking her seriously but chuckling at the same time as he pulls her up and off of the barrier. With some careful manoeuvring, he's tucked Amanda into his chest, one hand held protectively over the bottom of her back. The other hooks behind her knees.

"Is that better?"

He speaks to her with the same fatherly fondness as always and every time you find yourself melty like butter in the summer sun. In Spencer's eyes, Amanda is the smartest, most interesting girl alive. You're tempted to agree.

"I was worried it might be depressing for her," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's sad for a children's story, you know? But she's really interested, and it's important for kids to hear sad stories. Children who read stories with unhappy plotlines are more empathetic, and have a stronger sense of justice." He smiles at her. "Plus, I think it's her favourite so far. She asked if we could read it again, all in one go. It's gonna take hours."

"That doesn't surprise me. I mean, she's yours. I thought you'd be reading her Tolstoy by now."

"I'm saving Tolstoy for first grade."

He's serious.

Hotch runs through the finish line and the members of the BAU that are assembled cheer loudly. He doesn't seem embarrassed at all, only proud, ducking down to give Jack a sweaty hug. Then he, Jack, and his new girlfriend move away from the group. The remaining members of your team start to break away, too.

The girls all want to go home and die in their own beds. Rossi and Morgan have separate dates. You're thinking you'll go home and shoot the breeze until a more reasonable bedtime when Spencer turns to you with his usual genial smile.

"Do you want to come over? We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock."

Spencer's changed a lot since he became Amanda's primary caregiver, but some things stay the same. He loves doing things with other people and he'll always extend an invite if he thinks the other party might enjoy themselves. Going over for dinner feels a lot more intimate than his having an extra ticket for a foreign film festival, or late night takeout, though.

"I don't want to impose," you say awkwardly.

"Do you think you're an imposition?" Spencer asks in concern.

"No, just, you know, I don't…"

"Amy doesn't mind. Do you, sweetheart?"

"What?" says Amanda's little voice.

"Can Y/N come for dinner?" he asks.

Amanda smiles, pearly white teeth and cheeks chubby with baby fat. "Yes! We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock!"

You laugh in delight.

"We decided in the car," Spencer explains.

"Here I thought you were telepathic." You direct your smile at Amanda's doe eyes. "I'd love to come for dinner. Thanks, baby."

Spencer has the cleanest car any parent has ever had. You know he spent days choosing the safest one he could find in his budget, and even more days on a car seat. His apartment is just as clean but way more crowded, stuffed to bursting with Amanda's toys and his books.

"I'm gonna change, do you mind?" he asks, leading you down the hall into the kitchen. Amanda had tipped half a juice box down his front, and the stickiness is clearly making him uncomfortable.

"No, by all means."

He smiles. "Stay here," he says with a feigned sternness, pointing one of his pretty fingers at Amanda. His daughter only giggles.

You follow Spencer with your eyes as he leaves.

"Will you take off my shoes, please?"

You look down. Amanda stares up at you, her round eyes pleading, one foot held a half inch off of the ground.

You leap to action, and say, "Oh! Yeah, baby, no problem," as you get down on your knees.

They're simple buckles and take all of ten seconds. Amanda holds onto your arm and lifts her feet one at a time so you can pull them off. Her small toes wiggle in her socks when she puts them back on the floor.

"Feel better?" you ask knowingly.

"Daddy says shoes are a con-d-struct," she tells you.

"They are!" you say, though whether you really agree might take some thought. "They're silly, huh?"

"Yeah. If we walked with no shoes, we would have tough skin like trees!"

"Like trees," you repeat. You love listening to little kids speak because they're so full of joy to share what they know, and Spencer Reid's kid? She is a walking book of facts. "That's so cool, did daddy tell you that?"

"Daddy tells me everything."

Spencer appears in a graphic t-shirt. You've only seen him dressed down through barely open hotel room doors or in photographs with Amanda. It takes a second for your brain to recognise what you're seeing.

He's a genius, so he understands what you're doing immediately.

"Oh no," he coos, bending down to take Amanda's shoulders into his hands. "I'm so sorry," —he kisses the top of her head— "I forgot all about your shoes. How will you ever get tree bark feet?"

It's sweet to see how she responds to his affection. Her eyes squint closed and she smiles softly, giggling when he scratches her shoulders through her dress.

"Thanks for releasing her, she can't stand wearing shoes when she doesn't have to," he says to you, nudging her out of the way to offer you his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you up. He doesn't let go of you straight away, instead brushing his thumb over your fingernails, one after another.

"I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for a while. I– I've never been any good at this part, I thought it would be harder, because Amanda's the only girl in the world I understand no matter how many books I read, and that's not going to last forever, but I…" Spencer's voice steadily quietens, until the tone he's using is dulcet, and his brows have pulled together. He's just as pretty frowning as smiling. "It feels easy, with you," he finishes.

"Are we having macaroni?" Amanda asks.

Spencer looks torn. "I was thinking rigatoni," he says.

"Gross, dad."

"Farfalle?"

"Bowties?" she questions suspiciously.

"Is that better than rigatoni?" he asks.

Amanda dwells on this, leaning her weight into your leg. It's an unthinking gesture that fills you with light.

"We can't have macaroni?"

You know from Spencer's bemused sigh alone that she's about to get her way.

"Do you mind?" he asks you.

Amanda pins you with a pout, raising her hands into a praying triangle. Her puppy dog eyes are killer and unnecessary.

"Whatever you want, babe," you say hurriedly.

She bursts off to her toys with an excited cheer. You're sorry to see her go, petrified of embracing yourself, and still majorly caught off guard by what Spencer said. He's wanted to ask you over for dinner for a long time, does that mean he likes you? And the way he'd held your hand — that's not an ambiguous affection.

You like Spencer. All the small things that make him him, and the huge things too. His daughter, his books, his genius mind and his clumsy heart. If he likes you too, you might just combust.

Spencer nips into the living room to put Fraggle Rock on TV. Amanda's sweet voice chases his heels, her singing a mixture of melodic gibberish and passionate recitation.

You linger as he starts to gather what he needs for dinner. He's either not worried about what you think of his confession or trying to hide that he is, knee deep in a recount of the invention of boxed mac and cheese when you touch his elbow.

"I know what you mean, about what you said before, I feel the same. It feels easy with you."

You don't know what it is. But Spencer knows everything, so you aren't worried.

He beams. His smile warps each word he says as he turns back to the saucepan he's filling with pasta. "Maybe we should get dinner without Fraggle Rock, sometime."

"I don't know, I don't think it gets any better than this." You nod your head toward the living room, Amanda's singing an adorable echo.

His smile grows impossibly bigger.

"Me neither," he says.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #dad!spencer reid #dad spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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petitprincess1 · 2 months

Text

Radio Rebel (name pending?) AU

(This is me just testing the waters of how this will be received. Might make a full story or, at least, a combination of ficlets. It all depends on the interaction. Now, join me in: What if Alastor Joined The Vees)

~~~

Annoying murmuring and blubbering happening near me. That buzzing from the hot overhead lights that are constantly in my eyes. That second one from the right. It's always flickering. Pestering me. I asked for it to get fixed and no one did a damn thing!

The blathering is getting louder, making my ears twitch at the noise. I'm sure no one in the audience is caring at all. That one skimpy-dressed rabbit is just taking pictures of herself. That light is still flickering. More twitching! More buzzing! More and more monotony! When will this fuc-

"MR. RADIO DEMON!"

Alastor left out from his thoughts upon the sudden shouting. He blinked back into reality and looked around the talk show set that he was on. The hardwood desk he was sitting in front of, the plush chairs, wooden flooring, and, yes, the guest! He cleared his throat, pushed back his shortened hair, and smiled too widely, "Ah, yes, sorry about that, my dear! It's lovely having you back on air! How's your husband?"

The Sinner stared at him with teary eyes before muttering, "Dead....sir...."

Blink. Blink. "Ah," that was all Al could muster before a loud ringing shocked his system. The Sinner began tearing up again as makeup artists rushed over to her to begin cleaning her up. Alastor watched as the "live studio audience" went off to do...whatever the hell it is that they do.

The deer demon leaned back against his chair, adjusting his tight necktie, and let out a loud sigh. His smile was much smaller as he stared at the lights that tormented him and beat down with their senseless heat. This is supposed to be Hell, and yet why is this the only time he feels as if he's being tormented by flames?

A sudden rush of static coursed up Alastor’s spine, making his ears rise in alert and hair slightly rise. He sat up slightly straighter as a bolt of neon blue electricity shot down in front of his desk. Within the blink of an eye, the pure energy formed into his.....business partner. Al greeted, "Good morning, Vox! Judging by your twitching brow, I take it you saw this stunning broadcast?"

Vox's twitched brow suddenly stopped as a large, "friendly" grin appeared on his flat face. He chimed back leaning onto Alastor's desk, "That's right~ And I gotta say, Al....that was absolutely the worst fucking thing that I ever could've seen! So, would you kindly explain what exactly that was...please?"

The rad- deer demon stood up from his desk and scoffed, straightening out his jacket, "Oh, it's nothing, my friend. Just simply was distracted by that light that I told you many times that keeps flickering. You did say that you'd eventually look into it, but I didn't think that meant our entire undead lives! Hahaha!"

A distorted, broken-down laugh track came from Alastor. The TV host just blinked at Al and was very unamused by his humor. However, he just wrapped an elbow around the, now-stiffened, deer as he chuckled humorlessly. Vox patted his chest, "Now, now, Alastor. This isn't just an isolated incident. I'd be perfectly fine, but...this is like the 10th time this week and that makes me worry for you."

He pulled away from Al, kept him arms-length, and with his hands on the cervidae's shoulders. He sighed, "Come on, buddy. This is a safe place. No need to hold back on your partner, right?"

Alastor corrected, removing Vox's hands from his person, "Business partner. Also, I'm sorry that I don't exactly care for whatever woes someone wishes to force onto me."

"Well, yeah, no shit! No one cares for what that fucking COW says!" Vox shouted, turning his head towards the bovine Sinner. The widow wept as she ran off the set, forcing the lackeys to chase her down. The smaller Overlord took another breath as he took Alastor by the hand and made him sit down in his armchair.

He went behind the demon, dropped his arms down Al's chest, and whispered near his ear, "Are you still mad at me, Al~?"

Alastor's eye twitched as his smile widened into a grimace as he tilted his head away from Vox. The TV demon snickered lowly as he hummed, "I was right, wasn't I? Come on now. Don't be upset. We made a consented deal that would benefit both of us. We work together on this. Your happiness is my happiness and your pain is mine~"

Al felt a nip on his ear that made a loud screeching sound abrupt from him. He suddenly stood up and hit Vox in the face, causing the other's screen to turn to static in shock. The deer Overlord immediately moved away from the other as he casually continued the conversation, "Yes, yes, I'm aware. It's just that I don't see why exactly I need to do...this mundane garbage. Even though I am not a fan, a simple podcast is much closer to my style. Don't you agree?"

It took a few seconds for Vox's screen to turn back to normal before he groaned in annoyance. He rolled his eyes before stating, "Yeah, of course it is. However, you don't exactly see many people lining up to sell their souls for that shit. Well, unless you count those who are middle-aged or singles wanting to be raw-dogged by the next serial killer. You don't get to see and experience the desperation on wayward's souls faces! And, besides, how many can say they've been in the same room as the radio demon~?"

"I actually feel like more could-"

"Shut up. It was rhetorical," the object head cut Al off before he went onto his phone. Alastor tried to peer over his shoulder, but another unnerving shock went up his spine and caused him to move back. Vox smirked at the obedience before he turned around and said, "Alright, fine. How's about this? Why don't you take some time off, ay? You know, clear your mind and get some air.....until you're back on by ten, that is. I'm sure all of this can be resolved after, I don't know, getting something to eat or whatever."

Alastor's ears flattened against his head as he started, smile becoming small once more, "I actually haven't been-"

"ROTTEN BITCH-!!"

Both Vox and Al were shocked by various shouting and crashing going on above them. The TV demon growled in frustration at the nuisance. He told Alastor, "Hold that thought. Someone's being an obnoxious prick, yet again."

Vox turned around to cup Alastor’s cheek, making the other's ear twitch. His thumb rubbed against his grayed skin before he suddenly turned into electricity that traveled through the various cables on the floor. Al just shuddered once he was alone and muttered, "Pompous prick..."

(That's all you get, for right now. There's still more to this first chapter! Lmk what you guys think! Reblogs are very much appreciated :3c)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel au #radio rebel au #alastor #vox #one sided staticradio #staticradio #tw dubious consent #tw harassment #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #my writing #my fanfiction #testing testing #writers on tumblr #one sided radiostatic #radiostatic

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brnesblogposts · 21 days

Text

Listen, please.

Pairing Matty Healy x Reader

words: 1k

warnings angst lol

a/n i decided to switch it up because “you” was starting to piss me off so i switched to third person for this one

—————-

He shut the front door behind him as quietly as he could, locking it, just getting home from the studio. It was two in the morning. The third time this week that he'd got home at a ridiculous hour, he had barely seen her the last couple of weeks.

Y/n lay in bed facing the wall so when he came in he wouldn't know she'd been crying, she felt ridiculous crying over barely seeing him, but it really was getting to her. She felt neglected and like a second choice, she knows how important the music is to him and the guys but she just wished he'd pay more attention to her.

Matty snuck into their room and used the light of his phone to navigate his way to the bathroom, so as not to disturb her. She listened to him as he turned the tap on to brush his teeth and heard him drop his clothes into the laundry basket. He came out of the bathroom and slid into bed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder where he could've sworn he felt her pull away from him, probably a coincidence he thought. She hid under the covers more as he started adjusting himself and getting comfortable, she wished she didn't have to share a bed with him because lately, he felt like a stranger.

She continued staring at the wall as her mind raced, thoughts running through her head at one hundred miles an hour. The overthinking caught up to her again and a few tears escaped her eyes, running down her cheeks. At the same time, completely unaware of what was happening next to him, Matty stared up at the ceiling. He knew he hadn't been paying enough attention to her but this record was so close to being done, he tended to fixate on his music because when it came to his art he was a perfectionist.

As he stared up at the ceiling he absentmindedly reached out to try to touch her, he wanted to feel connected to her. When she pulled away from his contact he felt his stomach drop. It was then he tuned into the sniffles escaping her lips, he reached over to his bedside lamp and turned it on, turning back to her "Baby?" He went to stroke her hair but she curled up into herself even more. He hated seeing her like this, he should have been here this week for he would've known what was bothering her, "Darlin'? What's wrong?" Still, he received no response. He wasn't going to push you but if he knew what was wrong then he could try to fix it.

A few minutes passed and he just sat there watching her, wondering if she'd say anything. He was about to give up and wait until the morning when "You don't love me anymore." She spoke in the most delicate voice "What?!" He all but yelled and then she sat up, "You don't love me anymore." She repeated. He snapped "Don't you ever fuckin' say that again" Why was he angry? She couldn't figure it out, "It's okay," Her voice was soft-spoken. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, "What are you on about? Where the fuck did you get that impression?!" He was trying to keep his voice calm but the accusation was pissing him off, he was more mad at himself than anything, how could he ever let her think such a thing, he felt like he failed as a boyfriend.

Tears started falling down her cheeks and wetting the bedsheets where she sat cross-legged "You-you're never home," she sputtered "Obviously you'd rather be at the studio than with me anymore, I'm sorry I wasn't good enough, I really did try" She choked. He looked at her, eyes wide. He watched as she broke down in front of him. His girl was crying because of him. She continued crying as he watched in disbelief, trying to find the words "I am so fucking sorry." He spoke with sincerity, analysing her face, once again trying to reach out to her but being rejected. He felt like shit.

"Y/n, please.." Matty went for her hand and kept talking "Please, listen to me, don't pull away," She let him take her hand in his and he ran his thumb over the back of it as he spoke "Baby... I love you. Do you hear me? I love you and nothing has changed or will change." Her tears increased his words and he squeezed her hand,

"I can not express how sorry I am for making you feel anything less than enough. You are more than enough, I don't deserve you, to be honest. You have stood by me through everything, all my shit, you've been there and let me speak to you in the most horrible manner when I was at my lowest. I'm so sorry I've been absent this week, I got caught up in the studio, but from now on that won't happen. I'll be here with you more, I'll make sure to tell you how much I love and appreciate you every day, please let me fix this because I can't lose you, my darling." He poured his heart out, kissing her hand when he finished.

They sat in silence as she processed his words, his thumb never halting in its comforting caress on her hand. He stared at her as he watched the tears come to a halt, holding his breath.

"I know your music is important to you," She breathed deeply "You're the most incredible, talented man I know. I guess it just sometimes feels like I get in your way?" He raised his brow at this "I feel like I hold you back, if we weren't together you'd have more time to work on your music." She confessed and he turned her chin to look him in the eyes as he said "You are my music, you're my muse in everything that I do," He squeezed her hand again "You are integrated into my lyrics, the guys get sick of me sometimes, but you're my whole world. He finished his ramble and a glimpse of a smile appeared on her face "God you're an idiot sometimes, Healy," Rolling her eyes "Maybe, but I'm your idiot," He grinned like a dork, she loved that grin.

"I love you, Matthew Healy" She smiled at him,

"I love you, my darling love, Y/n" He smiled as his lips met yours.

———-

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated! i feel like while writing this i thought it was my best work and then i got to the end and i hate it, this happens with everything i do though.. :D

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy angst #the 1975 #the 1975 angst #the 1975 fic

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occasionallyprosie · 2 months

Text

"A Halo of Black and Red"

Legend wasn't actively hiding his pedigree from the other heroes... but he was avoiding telling them that he was a prince as long as he could. Of course, he knew it wouldn't stay secret forever, but he would put it off to avoid the eventual betrayal from the knights in the group. Finally, that not-quite-hidden secret came to light when Legend took the other heroes to Hyrule Castle. At least the reveal itself had been amusing, it's aftermath? Not so much.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 14: Blood-stained Tiles

Event Masterlist

Read On AO3 Warnings: Graphic Violence, Major Character Death

As surprising as it was, Legend wasn't actively hiding anything from the other heroes.

He just wasn't up front with them. It wasn't that he was keeping secrets, if they asked he'd honestly answer, but... They didn't ask and he was not going to say it outright until he had to.

"I thought you said we were going to go see your sister," Warriors said as Legend led the way through Castle Town and up to Hyrule Castle. "Does she work at the castle?"

"I did and yes she does," Legend confirmed. Honestly it was amusing, sure he wore a dozen rings but one was his mother's signet ring, he literally had a Triforce hair clip... that was usually hidden by his hat but he's lost it in battle and taken it enough times for them to have seen it, and he's signed his name "Link Hyrule" in front of them at least a dozen times.

At this point it was a bit of a game to see how obvious he could be without outright saying who his sister was and what he was. Though, admittedly, he kept quiet for safety reasons as well.

"What does she do?" Hyrule asked curiously. "Is she... a handmaiden?"

"No, she's not a handmaiden." Legend barely held back a snort. He kept a hand rested on the magic rod on his hip as they passed the guards who shifted but didn't attack him.

"Is she someone of importance?" Wild piped up, appearing on Hyrule's other side.

"You know," he feigned thoughtfulness, "she is rather important."

"Is she older than you?" Warriors joined in on the theorizing. "Because I could see a... twenty-something year old being a general or high captain depending on their experience."

"Well..." he thought about it. "I guess she's kind of like a commander? That's not her official title, but by definition she could be a kind of commander."

Commander in chief, he supposed.

"So she's in the military?" Warriors concluded.

"In? No, she's not, but she is a great leader and she could've taken Ganon on alone if he hadn't prioritized getting her out of the way first."

"Ganon prioritized her?" Hyrule gasped. "Who--Why?!"

They reached the last door to the throne room. Legend grinned.

"Take a guess," he said as the guards pulled the door open.

Zelda was talking to Impa by her throne, but as the door was opened, she looked over and a bright smile appeared on her face.

"Link! You’re back!"

He sped up the slightest bit to meet her part way as she tackled him in a hug.

"Oh--You better not have a new scar, I've told you to be more careful!"

"I'm fine, no new scars, I've barely been injured so far. There's three idiots here who like to take hits not meant for them and I'm not one of them."

Zelda scanned his face before she nodded. "Good." She then moved to face the heroes. "Apologies--It's been several months since Link last came by the castle and I like to make sure he's alright before anything else when he does. Welcome to Hyrule Castle, I am Queen Zelda. How can I aid in your quest?"

Legend held back a laugh at the completely confused looks that were shot toward him.

"Well--Currently, we are only seeking to find a place to rest," Warriors said formally. "But we would welcome whatever information on monster sightings and movements you have."

"Of course," she did a subtle gesture and one of her handmaidens approached, "Estelle here will take you gentlemen to one of our guest wings, you may settle as you wish. Link and I will ensure tonight's dinner will accommodate all of your different dietary needs while we catch up and discuss."

"I thought we were visiting the Vet's sister?" Wild muttered to Sky.

Legend couldn't hold back the laugh while Zelda just tilted her head.

Twilight elbowed Wild but the damage was done and Zelda looked at Legend with a frown.

"You didn't tell your companions prior to bringing them here?"

"I swear it wasn't a secret--I am wearing both my ring and the hair clip."

Her frown deepened. "Your hat hides it."

"And I take my hat off all the time, it falls sometimes when I fight too. If they haven't seen it that's not my fault."

Zelda gave him a sharp look. "I told you that you need to introduce yourself."

"It's time travel and heroes of past and future," Legend defended. "I introduced myself appropriately for the situation! You said that if it doesn't call for it then I don’t need to say that whole title."

She stared him down.

"Besides," he added quickly, using his last card of defense, "half of them are knights."

Her eyes narrowed briefly, flicking toward the group, then she nodded. "Fine," she turned to the partly confused and partly very shocked group of heroes. "My apologies, it seems my little brother's lessons still haven't stuck."

"You said hero came first!" He protested, happy she wasn't going to outright mention anything.

"That doesn't mean you can neglect your position as prince!"

"Din give me strength, you’re impossible."

"You're impertinent."

"This is being impertinent? Oh I can show you impertinence."

Someone cleared their throat. "Umm--"

Zelda shot Legend a threatening look as he huffed and turned away. She turned to the other heroes with a graceful smile.

"My apologies again, as you can tell, Prince Link and I often have points of conflict in regards to his responsibilities. Please, follow Estelle. She will also be the one to fetch you for dinner."

"Of course," Warriors said as he grabbed Sky's arm. "Thank you for your hospitality, your majesty."

Legend rolled his eyes, that was also part of the reason he didn't introduce himself fully when they met. The unnecessary formality was a small part, but a part nonetheless.

Estelle led them away, Legend avoided Sky's eyes very stubbornly and the moment they were gone, Zelda turned on him.

"Are you safe with them?" She demanded. "Knights? Link, you--"

"I am well aware, Zel." Not introducing himself as a prince had been a choice, and it was one made in self defense, even if he defended otherwise in front of the heroes.

He supposed he would find out how they treated Hyrulean Princes soon enough, if one of them tried to kill him anytime soon, at least he would know why.

"Are you safe?" She repeated.

He nodded. "I am." He didn't confess how unsure he was of that fact, it was a point of uncertainty, whether the knights of the heroes would kill him because of his heritage and gender, but he wasn't telling his rather protective older sister that.

She sighed softly and nodded. "Good." She gestured for him to walk with her. "Then tell me about this quest, these... heroes?"

He sighed softly. "Well..."

He reluctantly had put his cap away--look, it was representative of his sanity, he was emotionally attached to that thing--and fixed his hair into something nice and not as practical, triforce clip a bit more on display as a result.

Dinner came and there was more meat than Legend was used to seeing on these platters, but he had been the one to alert the chefs that most of their guests enjoyed meat, majority of which on the rare side, and another few liked fish.

Sky had stubbornly taken the seat beside Legend and when dinner began and Zelda ate, he finally prodded the subject.

"You never said anything," he said quietly, other conversations flowing around them.

Legend shrugged.

"You’re the one who figured it out and said it, why didn't you tell me?" It being the fact that Sky was the patriarch of the royal bloodline.

"I didn't think it was important," he lied.

"You didn't think it was important that you’re my descendant?" Sky hissed, if Legend didn't know better he was hurt.

Except Legend did know better and he was avoided those bright blue eyes because if he met them he knew he'd see how hurt Sky felt at his omission.

"Is it?" He managed instead.

"Yes."

He somehow didn't show the wince he felt. "Oh."

"You--" Sky seemed to be struggling and he kept glancing at the wider table. Legend had a feeling this was a conversation meant to be had in private.

So he sighed and stood. "S'cuse us, Zel."

Zelda waved him off as she continued her conversation with Four about... some book?

Sky was quick to follow him, Impa moved to as well but Legend subtly gestured for her to stay. She did, turning her attention back to Zelda.

They stepped out into the hall where the guards didn't linger.

"Why don’t you think it's important?" Sky asked, and he sounded hurt. He sounded so genuinely hurt.

"Because..." because princes were believed to be the scourges of the goddess' bloodline, because since as far as he could remember he had been told that the goddess had no sons, and he'd believed it because he was unaware he was her son. Because he didn't fully trust the knights in their group to not kill him now that they know.

Sky visibly faltered. "You clearly don't mind your sister--Am I the reason you..."

"No! No--It's not-- I'm... I'm not against my heritage or anything," Legend insisted. "I'm not ashamed of being--Zelda's brother, I'm really not. It's just..."

"Just what? Is it Hylia?"

"No. Sky, I didn't even know her name before meeting you. She was just the... the goddess born mortal, the first queen of Hyrule, its divine protector who chose mortality to be with her lover. It's just--Princes are not considered a good thing, they--we are considered the scourges of--"

CRASH

Glass shattering echoed through the hall, followed by a scream, his left hand burned and he ran back to the banquet hall.

The doors slammed open and, though he noticed the shattered window and Four and Wild both leaping out of it as Warriors had a guard pinned, his eyes set on Impa kneeling on the ground beside Zelda's fallen chair.

He ran across the room, Pegasus Boots spurring him into near teleporting across it to see a sight he had never, in his life, wanted to see.

No, no, no.

Zelda laid on the cold tile floor and blood pooled around her head like some demented halo.

Amethyst eyes that were mirrors of his own was staring blankly at the far wall, unblemished features marred by the blood that soaked the right side of her face.

A black blade made of shadows melted back into the darkness from the hole in Zelda's head.

Some part of Legend brokenly laughed at the irony, she had a halo now, as if her crown hadn't been enough. A halo of blood and darkness behind her head, a representation of the darkness, death, and destruction she held back with that bright light of hers.

"I'm sorry, Link," Impa croaked, the heroes in a chaotic circle with potions and fairies but none of them moved. It was obvious nothing could be done, Twilight helped Warriors with the guard but Legend could already feel the dark magic on him. "I didn't..."

Her voice became a background noise, a background ringing as his thoughts grew frantic.

Why didn't he notice?

He was gone for ten seconds.

How could this have happened?

No, no, no--

"Zelda?" His voice escaped him and he sounded like none of the last seven years ever happened, like he was still that ten year old child who had found Zelda asleep like the dead in that bed in Kakariko.

"Vet, I'm so sorry," Hyrule whispered.

She can't be dead. She can't be.

She wasn't supposed to die before him. She was supposed to live here in the castle, safe and leading their people, she wasn't the one constantly running head-first into the dangers that plagued Hyrule. She wasn't the one returning to the castle soaked in blood, a new scar marring her body every time. She wasn't the one who--

She wasn't supposed to die first.

"No," he whispered, kneeling down beside his older sister. There was a tiny splash as his knees hit the blood puddle and a brief flash of pain from them hitting the hard tile. "No--Zelda don't you do this."

"She's dead, Link. I'm so sorry," Hyrule said as he stepped away.

Legend shook his head. "No! No she--" his voice broke.

"You can't revive the dead, Link," Impa said weakly. "She's gone..."

He could though. He could revive the dead, or rather...

He held his left hand over her forehead. "Watch me."

He heard Hyrule say something and felt a hand land on his shoulder.

Come on, ladies, you owe me one. Farore, Nayru, Din--Don’t take her too.

Light coursed through him and he felt his Triforce absorb it, he felt the familiar caress of time, the whispers of secrets, and the moving of seasons.

The single triangle on his hand blossomed into three, all of them glowing bright.

Zelda gasped. Amethyst eyes glittered again with life and she shot up. Legend dropped his hand and pulled her into a hug as she gasped and coughed blood onto his tunic.

"Link?" She breathed. "How--"

"You’re not allowed to leave me yet," he whispered, pulling back and pressing his forehead against hers, not caring for the blood that covered her and now him. "You're not dying first."

"Oh, Link." She let out a shaky breath, clinging to him. She was shaking something awful, and Legend couldn't fault her for it. She had died. "Impa is here--Go."

He nodded before standing. Impa was quick to swoop in and pull Zelda into her protective arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. His Impa was not the warrior of the Captain's era, or anyone else's Impa, she was a matron, a nursemaid, a protector as much as any mother but not a warrior.

Legend went to the window and looked out. Four and Wild were long gone, Wind apparently giving chase as well. He didn't know what happened, but he knew there was one set of clues far closer.

He turned from the window to the guard that Twilight still had restrained.

He didn't even draw his sword, just took steps toward them both and the guard made a strangled, terrified noise and instead of trying to get away from Twilight, he scrambled back toward the Rancher.

Legend grabbed the strap of his helmet and Twilight quickly backed off as he slammed the guard to the ground, anger fueling him more than his power bracelets ever could.

"So," he growled as Impa, Sky, Hyrule, and Warriors rushed Zelda from the room, which left Legend with just Twilight and Time... And the traitor. "Who decided it was a good idea to try and assassinate my sister?"

The guard sobbed out his terror. "I don’t know! I just had to break the magic off the windows! That's all!"

"Why?"

"They paid me! They paid me!" He screamed, as if Legend had been torturing the answers out of him, but he hadn't even touched him beyond throwing him to the ground. "Please--Your highness--"

"Don’t beg," he snarled. "Congratulations, you can tell your employer his plan succeeded. He killed the Queen--He just didn't account for me and just how much power I hold in the palm of my hand."

He trembled and stared up at Legend, Legend could see the dark magic in his eyes and the broken glass in his hand... The Shadow, the Shadow had given him that power to destroy a Triforce-formed shield of protection.

"Y-You’re letting me go?"

"If your target had been me, then I might've. But since you decided to go for her--You can go to hell. I'll send that employer of yours along soon enough so you can relay that message."

Black blood soaked the tile floor when Legend drove his blade into his throat.

"We could've gotten more information out of him," Time admonished.

Legend turned his attention to the elder hero. He raised his sword up and drove it down again, causing more blood to splatter and the body to twitch, not looking away from his eyes.

"If you couldn't tell since you’re half blind," Legend started lowly, "he is black blooded. I personally am not sparing a person so juiced up on pure darkness to the point they could take down Hyrule Castle's magic defenses on the off chance of gaining information."

He stabbed the body again, blood gushing and splattering across the tile floor, staining it and his blade, his hands, and his boots.

"You think The Shadow would've let this guy near us if he had actual information? No."

He raised his blade to stab again when Twilight caught his hand.

"He's already dead," the Rancher croaked, and Legend noticed how pale he looked. "Zelda's alright, the threat's gone f'r now. It's fine... Breathe, Vet. It's alright. Just--Breathe, calm down."

Legend blinked, he stared at Twilight, confusion hitting him and the haze of red, of protect and avenge faded away.

Suddenly the black blood staining polished stone tile wasn't vindicating, it didn't feel good to see, it felt awful. The body in front of him was a gruesome scene, bloodied and its face a permanent expression of fear.

It was horrific, disgusting, and he felt dirty and wrong just knowing he caused it. Zelda's blood still soaked the floor too.

Twilight gingerly took his sword from his hand and Legend realized distantly that he was shaking.

"Vet--Hey, Link, look at me," Twilight said gently. "It's okay. Everyone is safe, they're alright. The Captain, the Traveler and the Skyloftian has Zelda, nobody's gonna be able to hurt her with them right there protectin' her. You need to breathe."

He was covered in blood, soaked in it, some of it was Zelda's, some of it the traitorous guard's, but nonetheless his clothes were saturated in blood, Fi's golden blade was hidden beneath the black ichor, even his skin was covered... his hands and his legs and he knew his face was too.

"Sorry," he managed to say with a somewhat even voice. "I... I lost myself there."

"We noticed," Time stated. "It happens. Your anger will get the best of you..."

Legend wiped his face off a bit, it didn't help, only smeared the blood and made him feel even worse.

"I... I should clean this up," he said weakly. "The servants don’t deserve to deal with this mess."

"You should go clean yourself up, and then go to your sister," Twilight corrected. He moved forward and directed Legend out of the room, and he let the older hero do it.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood soaking into the tile, the body, the puddle of Zelda's blood.

Zelda died.

His sister died, she did. It was only because the goddesses owed him one that she was alive right now, but that didn't change the fact that she died.

He didn't protect her. He had been too busy trying to fix his own mistakes to be there and protect her.

He hadn't been there.

And now there was a puddle of her blood soaking into the floor, and the only reason she wasn't laying there and adding more blood to it was because the goddesses owed him a favor.

Yet he couldn't shake the thought that he was the reason she had ever been in danger in the first place.

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maneaterss · 1 year

Note

hiii, could you do scenerio where richarlison and yn are celebrating her birthday and he gifts her something very grand 💖 love your writing

pairing: richarlison x insert

summary: richarlison outdoes himself per usual.

cw: richarlison being cute

authors note: i said i wasn't gonna write cause i had finals but i couldn't resist this. this is gonna be short but i tried!

you've always kept your birthday modest- it wasn't that you didn't want to have a big party and get expensive gifts but you had never done it before so why start now you spent the day with your friends to wait until your boyfriend was out of practice. you had a small meal with your friends before you bid your goodbyes and got in your car.

richarlison should be at your apartment by now but he hadn't texted you that he was on his way, you began your journey home after waiting for your car to start up, god you hated that car. once you'd made it home you saw another car in the driveway- expensive. confused- you entered the house wearily incase he'd brought a friend home you didn't want to bother them.

"rich?" you called out into your house walking to the living room. there was no sign of him or anyone else home until you walked into your kitchen.

balloons of y/f/c littered the floor and fairy lights were strung across the cabinets- along with a 'happy birthday' banner hung by two walls. multiple platters of food littered the table and two glasses or wine were set across from eachother. plates of meats, vegetables, fruits, and biscuits were splayed across the table as well.

once you'd finished taking in the sight before you your eyes switched to the perpetrator who barely gave you a second of air before he pulled you into his arms. "feliz aniversário meu amor." he smiledand he pulled his chest back to see your face.

you'd forgot about everything, you forgot about all of your issues, the phone calls you had to return and thank people for the birthday wishes, you looked at the man before you and placed both hands on his cheeks, you could've sworn his eyes were sparkling. this was such a sweet gesture and it must've not mean a lot to him because his focus was on you but this was something nobody had ever surprised you with.

you placed a soft kiss on his lips and couldnt wipe the smile off your face. "tu és o meu mundo. i love you y/n."

his world. everything he said made your cheeks flush and your heart flutter, "i love you too baby." you said pressing another kiss to his lips, "thank you so much."

your kisses carried him away as he ran his fingers through you hair, his other hand on your hips. you were beginning to melt into his touch before he pulled back unexpectedly- "how did i forget?"

richarlison grabbed your hand and dragged you through the house ignoring your questions, your confusion only spiking once he exited the house.

"for you, anjo." he pointed to the sports car you'd seen earlier.

you were genuinely at a loss for words. a whole car- nonetheless a sports car for you, for your birthday? what did you so to deserve this?

richarlison began to get worried- did he insult you? did he make you think that you thought your car was ugly? there wasnt anything he could dislike about you- not even your rusty car, everything that made you you was insanely perfect to him.

the dinner was already a big stretch in your brain, you couldn't even comprehend the fact that anyone would drop this much money on you. "are you serious?"

he just laughed, rubbing his neck. "rich oh-" you were still in utter disbelief, "oh my god." you pressed another kiss to his lips.

"you didn't have to." you pulled him into a hug. "i don't even know what to say my love." his thoughtfulness was a gift in itself.

"the least i could do baby," he kissed your forehead, running his hand up and down your back. "if i could give you the world i would."

and you both knew that to be true- he would give you even his own life if you ask, you'd do the same for him.

#richarlison x you #richarlison de andrade #richarlison angst #richarlison smut #richarlison fluff #richarlison x reader #richarlison imagine #richarlison imagines #neymar angst #neymar headcanon #richarlison headcanons

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mc-lukanette · 5 months

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Marinette shivered, bringing her blanket further around her as she stared out the window. Even though it was still autumn, the weather for the day could easily be mistaken for winter. There was snow falling outside and, while she normally would find it pretty, she was still waiting for her tiny heater to warm up the room.

...I hope Luka's okay, she thought, curling in on herself worriedly as she imagined how he might be doing. They'd only met recently, but he was always so sweet to anyone who came by, even listening to people's situations despite his own. It felt like they were good friends.

She was certain he had money to stay somewhere as, despite him explaining that he wandered from town to town, he always managed to get enough gigs or general work with his musical talent. He could play just about anything and she'd never seen him turn down a single request (though he did make an amusing face when someone asked him to play an XY song once).

For all she knew, he could've already left and gone somewhere warmer. The thought made her feel colder, wishing that she'd be able to at least say "good-bye" to him had she known.

He might not have left, she reminded herself. He could even still be out there in the cold. Maybe he couldn't find a place soon enough, or everywhere was too packed, or he didn't even know that it'd get cold in time to do anything about it.

She glanced at the window again, watching the snow and imagining how cold it must be outside if she was still cold inside where she didn't have to worry about the wind chill factor of a cold breeze.

After a few seconds of silence, Marinette let out a loud whine of relent, throwing the blanket off of herself and pouting all the way to the door. She snagged her jacket, put on some boots, and opened the door to brave the cold outside.

——

"Luka!" Marinette cried, storming up to him. "What are you doing out here?!"

She found him out in the park, sitting on a bench like it wasn't snowing outside. He was in the middle of playing guitar, though "playing" was a bit generous when his fingers seemed frozen in position. She distinctly remembered cold winters back when she was younger when the heat would be only in the bakery section of her parents' house, leaving her to zone out in her room when it felt too chilly to think straight.

Luka only looked up at her when she put a hand on his shoulder, his hand twitching as his eyes focused on her. The scarf he wore was of decent quality, but hardly good enough to keep him warm.

"M-Marinette..."

"I can't believe you're still here!" She threw her hands up, but flinched and hugged herself when a cold breeze flew past. She scowled at the flecks of white in Luka's hair making it sparkle, eyes trailing down to his pants next to add, "And you're still wearing distressed pants when it's this cold?!"

"Sorry." He smiled, but sounded confused as if her worrying about him was strange. "I thought maybe I could make something new. It's not that cold."

"Not that—" Marinette bristled. She'd been out in the cold for maybe five minutes and already hated it. Almost like a declaration, she said, "...You're coming with me."

He blanked. "What?"

In a swift motion, she took his guitar from his lap and put it in the case, locking it shut so she could safely get it onto her back.

"Marinette—" Luka tried to protest again, but she was already grabbing his arm and pulling him off the bench. He stumbled, his legs taking a moment to find stability.

"You can lean on me if you have to," she insisted. "Why didn't you go somewhere anyway?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I thought someone else could use the space I'd—"

She huffed, almost rolling her eyes. "Yeah, you think that way, and then people start walking all over you, being all friendly just so they can..." She trailed off as she caught Luka's concerned gaze, blushing when she realized that she was revealing too much. "Ah—anyway, we need to go."

——

After practically shoving Luka inside her home, Marinette turned and used her full weight to slam the door shut behind them. The warmth of her house slowly started to sink back in and she let herself sigh in relief, almost dropping to the floor before she remembered the guitar case on her back.

"Can I set this down?" she asked.

Luka nodded, seeming somewhere between fond and amused. She took the strap off of herself and let it lean against the corner of the room, then started to dust off bits of snow from herself. Taking a look at Luka, who stood either too cold to notice his own state or uncaring, she reached up and did the same to him. She felt like a feather duster, brushing unwanted specks and such away to make way for a neater appearance.

It was only once she stepped back in satisfaction that she noticed Luka's wide eyes. It registered with her then that this was a grown man, she was a grown woman, and she was touching him even if it was with wholly innocent intentions. Maybe it was simply because Luka was such a comforting presence or she'd just been lost in the moment, but she genuinely hadn't thought about it.

"...O-oh!" she exclaimed, turning away and trying to find any distraction. Spotting the heater still in the corner, her mind buzzed trying to think of how to best rid him of the cold and she decided, "I'll let you use my shower."

"I—" Luka shook his head, back straight like he was trying to be professional about this. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Good thing you're not asking then!" She gave him a gentle push towards the hall as a test, eyeing his legs when he adjusted his balance. "See? I bet your legs are still frozen! Now go!"

She walked past him and tried to show him the way. It took a moment, but she eventually heard his footsteps following after her, confirming that he'd finally accepted the offer.

Marinette took one look into the bathroom to make sure she didn't need to panic clean, then stepped aside to allow Luka in. "There you go."

"...Thank you, Marinette," Luka said.; she could tell that he'd held back another refusal and it made her feel a little smug. He continued, "I'll pay you for it."

She poked his chest. "Don't. It's just one friend taking care of another." She paused, hesitating when she realized that they'd never established their relationship. "Uh... w-we're friends, right?"

Thankfully, Luka smiled at her, voice soft as he replied, "Yeah. Of course."

She smiled back, watching as he turned away to head into the bathroom. He went to close the door as something occurred to her, her hand unconsciously reaching out to stop him. "Wait!"

He opened the door back up, blinking at her. She ran off to go grab her tiny heater, unplugging it from the wall and gathering it in her arms.

"Here," she said, running back and handing it over to him. "Plug this in. I hate it when I get out of the shower and it's cold."

"Don't you need this?" he wondered, adjusting his grip on it to ensure he wasn't putting any pressure on the wire.

She waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "I'll be fine for a few minutes." Looking him up and down, she mulled over if she covered everything. Her eyes locked with the tears in his pants and she snapped her fingers, noting, "Ah, you'll need something warmer to wear!"

She didn't wait for him to say anything and went off to her room. While he was obviously too big to wear anything of hers, she still liked to dabble in making clothes in her spare time - including menswear - so she found something suitable enough for him.

Luka was still standing awkwardly in the doorway when she returned. She piled the clothes into his arms that were still carrying the heater, but while he was giving them an odd (almost uncomfortable?) look, she had another thought.

"Oh, and you'll need your own toiletries of course!" She went past him into the bathroom, crouching down at the sink to open the cupboards underneath it. She always kept spare hair care products for when she ran out, and while she didn't really have any that were made with men in mind, she didn't imagine Luka would care about that sort of thing.

She brought back a few of them she thought he might like, though his arms were still full with the heater and clothes. Leaning left and right to get a good look at the situation, Marinette carefully wedged the products where she knew they wouldn't fall.

Somehow he gave an even stranger look at the products themselves. It was comical actually, poor Luka standing there and trying not to drop anything she'd handed him. She blushed, wondering if maybe she'd overwhelmed him at all.

I-I guess I could've just put everything near the sink or something instead of giving them to him, she thought, rubbing an arm shyly.

Luka, however, took it all in stride, a laugh bursting from his chest that almost threw off his balancing act. "You're a funny woman, Marinette."

"F-funny?" She stared, wide-eyed at what she interpreted as a bizarre reaction. Did she embarrass herself?

Luka's gaze was warm though, reassuring her before he turned away to her towards her shower. While he didn't elaborate, the way her heart skipped a beat told her that he could've only meant good things.

She walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her to give Luka privacy. There was a clattering noise from the other side - probably him finally losing his hold - and she covered her mouth with both hands to hide her laugh. He was a little funny himself.

——

While Luka was taking his shower, Marinette decided to prepare some hot tea to keep her warm. The lack of her heater still left her a little cold, but she put up with it like she said she would.

She could hear the shower running, as well as what she was certain was Luka's humming. If she listened closely enough, she could tell what sound it was.

He has good taste, she noted, finding herself humming back.

She didn't have people over that much, so it was often just her in the house. She didn't even think anyone had used her shower before besides herself. Now that the panic of getting Luka out of the cold had settled, it was oddly nice just having someone in her otherwise lonely space.

Time passed, Marinette only stopping her humming when she needed to take a sip of her tea. Another cup had been set out in case Luka wanted something as well, though she was prepared to make him hot chocolate instead if he didn't like tea.

It was strange though. At some point, she stopped hearing the shower itself and only heard Luka's hum. It also sounded like it was louder than before. Maybe she was hyperfixating so much on the sound that she was blocking out everything else?

At least, that's what she thought until she looked up, noticing Luka leaning against the wall. He was still humming along with her, a look of amusement on his face.

"Buh—" She averted her gaze, a strangled noise coming from her throat when she cut off her hum. "S-sorry. I knew that one, so..."

"You always made the best requests," Luka compliments instead of addressing the humming elephant in the room.

She giggled sheepishly. "I know the best music. That's why." Then, trying to turn things around on him, she grinned and reminded him, "I would've asked you to play XY if I didn't."

Luka's face soured instantly. Feeling successful in her attempt, Marinette laughed in delight.

Now that he was out of the shower, she was able to properly take him in. Sweaters weren't really "his thing" and it showed in how he wore it - not that she wouldn't take on the challenge of making him one he liked wearing - but it was comfortable. His hair, meanwhile, was damp, but dry enough that he didn't need a towel around his shoulders to catch water. She kind of wanted to touch it, entranced by the way his highlights remained unaffected by being washed. Maybe they were natural after all.

Unprompted, she blurted out, "How aren't you famous?" and while it would've been easy to take it back or apologize, Luka was never offended by more personal questions and she wanted to know. "You're more talented than most - probably any - musicians in the industry, you're handsome, and you have good energy."

He blushed at the blatant compliment to his looks - cute - but answered anyway, "People have tried, but I'm not interested."

"Really?"

He walked closer to her for a more comfortable conversation. She showed him the hot water and his choice between tea or hot chocolate, noting that he opted for tea and sweetened it a little more than she would have.

She made a mental note that he had a bit of a sweet tooth.

"I know it sounds like an honor to have people offer me deals," he sighed, leaning against the counter and fidgeting with the tag on the teabag, "but they always want me to change something. They think I need more tattoos and piercings, or want me to be a little meaner for an 'edge', or change the kind of music I like to make."

Marinette understood that. There were some types of fashion she didn't like to make, and while it felt bad turning down requests from friends or even commissions, she didn't want to force anything or go outside of her comfort zone. She was simply her and she respected herself enough to avoid putting herself through that.

"I get it," she said after a moment, smiling sympathetically at him. She'd already revealed something personal that day, so she didn't want to unload further onto him. Maybe another time.

Luka smiled back at her, then looked back down at his tea. He took the spoon and gave the tea a stir, adding on, "I wouldn't have accepted anyway, even if they did give me a good deal. I don't think I want to be a rock star."

In shock, she wondered aloud, "No? I was so sure that's why you were traveling. I thought you were trying to get someone to notice your skills?"

Her reaction felt rude, but it didn't look to surprise him. She supposed he must've gotten it a lot, perhaps from frustrated people who wanted him yet couldn't have him.

He hesitated, tapping at the edge of his tea cup with a black nail, before asking, "...Can I tell you something personal, Marinette?"

Perhaps too eager for her own good, she stepped closer and nodded fervently. It was perhaps too close for the amount of time they'd known each other, but she was too curious to care and Luka didn't mind.

"My mom never liked being tied down," he began. "Even if we stayed in the same city, we lived on a houseboat so she could move whenever she wanted to." He stared off at nothing, as if reminiscing on mixed memories. "I never said anything about it because we were taught to go wherever our passion took us, and hers took us all over until I grew up enough to go out on my own."

"And she rubbed off on you," Marinette guessed. She imagined a little boy on a pirate ship, going to sleep in one place and waking up somewhere new; a dramatic mental image and almost definitely not how it was actually like, but she felt that it was the feeling he was getting across.

"She didn't have an anchor keeping her in one place," he continued, lifting the teabag slightly just to let it go and watch it sink back to the bottom of the cup. "She did meet some woman before I moved out, but she liked to travel too." He shrugged, unbothered. "I don't know where they are, but I'm sure my mom's happy."

It sounded sad, but Luka didn't. Marinette wished she could be in his mind for a moment, going through his memories to see where his attachment to his family began and his lack of attachment when it came to letting people do as they pleased began. What could she even say? That his mother surely missed him? That he was better off as he was, going around by his own choice than his mother's? That he at least seemed happy traveling from place to place and playing for people even if he didn't have a place to call home?

"You're looking for your own anchor then," she said instead. She was sure that's where he was going anyway.

He hummed with a confirming, "Mm," and that was apparently all he had to say on the subject, as his next comment was, "I should get your heater back from the bathroom."

She let him go, watching him disappear into the hallway. The vulnerability he'd shown her made her shiver, drawing her eyes back to the world outside her window. Taking her teacup with her, she crossed the space and set it on her windowsill while she took in the sights.

The snow had stopped only after she and Luka were out of its range, because of course, and she focused on the blanket of snow covering just about everything. Some people walked by, most dressed for the occasion while others were as unprepared as Luka, and Marinette frowned at the idea of having not planned further than getting him a warm drink and shower. On some level, it wasn't any of her business, so whether Luka moved on to go somewhere warmer or chose to stick around a little longer shouldn't matter to her.

It mattered to her.

As she mulled it all over, she faintly heard footsteps behind her, the other sounds signaling that Luka had returned and was setting up the heater back where it was before. Not stopping to think or let herself regret saying it, she voiced, "Do you want to stay here until the cold lets up?"

Silence was her response, and even his movements had stopped. She followed the original source of the sounds to see Luka crouched down, his hand hovering to put the plug in the socket yet frozen in place while he stared up at her in surprise.

Still committing to the suggestion, she anxiously tried to persuade him. "I know you were just talking about how you travel everywhere, but I'm worried about you. Even if you have the money to go somewhere warm, it's still expensive, isn't it?" She waved her arms about as she spoke, trying to work out her nerves. "I'm not asking you to pay rent either. The house is big enough and your company is—"

"Won't that make things hard for you?" he suddenly questioned.

"...Huh?" She tilted her head, puzzled. Wasn't she just explaining how there was more than enough room in her house for another person?

Luka stood, abandoning the plug - or maybe having forgotten it entirely - to stand up at his full height. Touched, he put a hand to his chest, but clarified, "If you really want me here, I'd love to, but I don't want anyone to feel awkward if I stay."

"What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him again. "Why would it be awkward?"

There was that face again: the one he'd made when she gave him clothes and the hair care products from under the sink. She ran over their whole conversation, wondering if maybe she'd said something that he could've taken the wrong way.

"Marinette," Luka said, sounding as confused as she felt, "I'm talking about your boyfriend."

"My—" She felt like she was going to fall over. "My what?!"

"Or your girlfriend," he hurriedly corrected, looking contemplatively at the clothes he was wearing. "I guess if she was tall enough, then—"

"Luka!" Marinette put a hand over her face in an attempt to cover up her blush, her other hand waving wildly at him to tell him to stop. "I-I don't have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or anyone. Those clothes are mine." Okay, maybe that would only confuse him further. "Do you remember when I told you that I design clothes?"

He nodded.

She pointed up and down at him. "I made those. They don't belong to anyone."

Luka's body language changed in an instant. Both of his hands went up to grasp at the sweater, his eyes intently taking in every detail of it with such awe that she felt a sudden burst of confidence.

Everything clicked now. He hadn't looked awkward in the clothes she made because of how he felt wearing such clothes, but rather because he thought they belonged to someone else. He only hesitated on accepting because he thought there was someone else living with her. With the latter, there were all sorts of ways she could interpret him having thought that she'd already been spoken for, but regardless, it did mean one thing...

"So you'll stay then?"

He tore his gaze away from the clothes to make eye contact with her. In response, she held her hand out, hoping to make the offer "official" with a handshake. She could already imagine him insisting on doing dishes for her or giving her warnings about when he'd be gone and when he'd be back, and honestly it just made her all the more eager to get him to accept. He was just cute that way.

"...Alright." He beamed at her, reaching out to complete the handshake. "I'll stay. Thanks, Marinette."

It must've taken a lot for him to agree to root himself somewhere, so she felt extra special albeit a little guilty for it. Besides, maybe it was just her imagination, but she did feel like an anchor in a way, keeping Luka grounded in her presence. It felt as though he wouldn't go anywhere so long as she kept holding onto his hand.

Idly, she thought that she wouldn't mind being that for him.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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distant-velleity · 4 months

Text

Stay With Me

Summary: Santiago and Chrysos have a lot of feelings to work out. Spoiler alert: they still don't confess. Word count: 2.6k Warnings: major character not-actually death (this is my Boxing Day gift to you all) A/N: I wish I could've put Major Character Death as a real warning. Alas... such is life. Anyway :) I'm super done with writing this, I don't wanna keep going insane, I'm just gonna post it as is. It's actually pretty tame for angst on my part. Enjoy!! Tagging: @thehollowwriter (finn mention!!!) @kitwasnothere and @nahelenia as my top 3 murderers <3

When Santiago comes to, groggy and lightheaded, he’s greeted by the watered-down sun filtering through the seas of Octavinelle above him. Bird and sky separated only by the glass and several gallons of water, his limbs sure feeling as distant and heavy as the ocean.

Ah, he thinks, ever-intelligently. How did I end up here…?

He can’t quite remember. All of his recent memories are escaping like soap bubbles in the wind.

While he racks his brain trying to figure it out, someone approaches and kneels next to him. A single glance at the person’s blonde hair and red eyes tells Santiago all he needs to know.

“Sorry about that,” Chrysos says, monotone as always. It’s hard to tell if the merman really is sorry or not. “I usually don’t get normal customers involved when 86’ing nuisances.”

Santiago can’t help the smirk that comes to him all too easily. “Are you sure I wasn’t the nuisance?”

“Hard to say,” replies Chrysos with an amused huff. He stands back up and offers Santiago a hand, to help him stand up.

Something about it feels off—maybe because Chrysos’ gaze seems so benevolent, that he seems so unbothered about gently helping someone he’d normally be too embarrassed or proud to. Still, Santiago laughs and sits up. “Tight-lipped as always,” he comments, and reaches for Chrysos’ hand, pulling himself up to stand.

They hold hands for a moment longer than they need to. It feels, if he dares to admit it just to himself, nice—

“Hold it.”

As if he’s been burned, Santiago jumps away from Chrysos at the sound of Azul’s voice. Approaching them are the Octavinelle housewarden and his entourage of three.

Santiago notices, with a distant sense of dread, that he’s never seen Chrysos look so furious and disappointed upon seeing his upperclassmen.

“Get back, Parrotfish,” Floyd warns. “That’s not the right Lionfishie to be getting all buddy-buddy with.”

How odd. Why would Floyd, of all people, go out of his way to warn him?

Santiago glances at the Octaquartet, then at Chrysos, whose expression is steadily darkening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chrysos says coldly.

“My, my.” Jade conceals his magic pen, clasped tightly in one hand, beneath the other. “There’s no need for that frigid tone. I’m sure we’re already on the same page.”

“No?” interjects Santiago. “No, we’re not. What’s going on?”

Finn looks him dead in the eye and then cocks his head towards Chrysos.

Santiago turns back around, and everything changes.

Where Chrysos was just standing as normal, there’s suddenly inky shadows surrounding the Octavinelle freshman. His eyes flare red-and-yellow as the ink (no, blot) viciously wraps around him in strands to form a cocoon of sorts. Santiago staggers back when the cocoon contracts, a dark purple haze spreading throughout the area and blocking out the sun. The whole dorm is plunged into a deep-sea darkness.

It’s Chrysos and a towering Phantom now, him hovering a little too close to the glowing pendant around its neck for anyone’s liking.

“We’re running out of time,” Azul says grimly. “Our fight from earlier didn’t do anything—”

“I’ll help fight him if it cuts down on time,” Santiago immediately declares without missing a beat. “If it saves his life.”

“Of course you would. Well, stay sharp, then.”

And Santiago tries, of course—

—but it doesn’t stop him from misfiring at some point, trying to hit the Phantom, only for it to grab Chrysos with a sickening crunch of his ribs and hold him up in range of the destructive fire spell. Santiago can only watch as it strikes Chrysos indiscriminately.

The resulting wail of agony is bloodcurdling and unbearable, but not nearly as much as when the Phantom moves a thrashing Chrysos closer and closer to its chest, a gaping hole like a beast’s maw forming there, the pendant dangling right before it.

“Wait—”

It’s what all the teachers warn about when they discuss the occurrences of Overblots. Defeat the Phantom, and the victim will come out unscathed. Take too long to destroy it, and the Phantom will… will…

Chrysos is brought to that gap, drawn in like an object near a black hole.

Santiago can’t breathe.

He can’t bring himself to close his eyes either. Even when a sinking feeling blossoms in his stomach, gripping him with all the force of a predator’s claws.

The ‘hand’ of the Phantom squeezes, another crunch of body parts that shouldn’t be breaking—

“Don’t you dare take him—let him go—” Santiago begs, but it’s useless.

The Phantom simply. Tucks Chrysos away in itself like nothing. Ignorant to his furious, fearful screams.

The hole in its chest closes over with viscous blot.

Santiago can’t look away.

“Ah… Ahh…”

can’t

look

away—

“AAAAAHHHHH—!!!”

A guttural scream tears its way out into the open from Santiago’s raw throat, burning and hoarse and painful. Still begging for a life not his own, his eyes fly open as he sits up in a grieving frenzy. “Chrysos, please, don’t leave—!”

“I’m right here,” calls a familiar voice from beside him, miraculously free of its terrifying Overblot overlay. It’s melodious and soothing, easy on the ears, just when he thought he’d never hear it again.

“You—” Santiago’s hand shoots out without thinking, clamping down on Chrysos’ where it was gripping the edge of his blanket.

…his… blanket…?

Only then does Santiago realize, half-delirious, that he’s on a bed in the school infirmary. He’s not in Octavinelle, he’s not surrounded by torrents and mists of pure blot. The air is clear here, and the sun is shining bright and pleasant through the windows like it does through the forest canopy back home. Although his lungs still burn a little, everything’s okay.

And, looking at the boy sitting right next to him—Chrysos is okay. He’s alive.

In silent awe, Santiago squeezes the cold, ungloved hand in his a little more tightly.

He’s alive.

Chrysos bites his lower lip and pointedly avoids looking at their joined hands. “What a nightmare you were having,” he says, false indifference in his tone. “Screaming like that… You’re lucky the nurse isn’t in right now.”

Santiago blinks. “A nightmare?”

“Yes. You were trembling and crying out in your sleep. If it weren’t the first time you’d shown any signs of movement in days…” Chrysos trails off, brows pressed tightly together.

Putting aside the fact that it was all little more than a bad dream, thank the Great Seven— “What do you mean, in days?” Santiago echoes disbelievingly. “I don’t even know how I ended up here, and you’re telling me I’ve been unconscious for days? Hello? Way to hit me with the double whammy.”

It was an attempt to lighten the mood for both their sakes, but when the corners of Chrysos’ mouth twitch downwards and his lips thin in a stressed frown, Santiago immediately realizes he’s said something either really wrong or really stupid. Or both.

“You don’t remember what happened at the SDC?” asks Chrysos. “Weren’t you there? You know, for Schoenheit’s Overblot, like Yu said…”

Santiago’s eyes widen. He only slightly loosens his grip on Chrysos’ hand a second later. “Oh, you mean—”

Toxic purple mist surrounded them, reeking of a sickly sweet concoction.

More saccharine still was the smile on Vil’s face. Even as blot dripped down his snow-white face from beneath his elaborate crown, he still found it in himself to pursue being the fairest one of all.

Showing simultaneously all and nothing of his burning jealousy and bitterness.

“—yeah, I remember,” he continues, letting out a laugh with no real humor in it. “I even remember getting a faceful of poisonous mist and then passing out right after the awards ceremony ‘cause I tried to act tough.”

“At least your brain wasn’t permanently damaged. That’s good,” remarks Chrysos with a half-hearted smirk. “Maybe you’ll be out of here sooner than I thought.”

No, there was definitely a screw knocked loose if Santiago was imagining Chrysos Overblotting in place of Vil… much less sobbing desperately at the possibility of his death…

…Santiago swallows, mouth suddenly dry for no good reason. “Uh-huh? I don’t know, I still feel a little off.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Chrysos suddenly leans forward, hand subconsciously moving at lightning speed to place itself on Santiago’s wrist. “You still feel off? You’re not messing with me, are you?” he asks, voice demanding with a hint of… something else. “I swear, I will have the nurse over here faster than—”

“Whoa! Don’t get your boxers in a twist, jeez!” Santiago exclaims, and Chrysos halts immediately. “Am I still dreaming? Did you just gaslight me into thinking this is reality? I mean, seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worried about me.”

“I’m not worried,” retorts Chrysos, although the watery look in his eyes as he tries to meet Santiago’s gaze says otherwise. And where there would normally be an underlying bite to his tone, it’s totally absent. “Isn’t it fair to ask questions when a certain someone has been unconscious for days?”

Nevermind, I’m definitely not still dreaming.

“So you’ve been worried about me. Got it.” Hopefully that isn’t giddiness bubbling up in his chest, despite—or because of—the way Chrysos sputters out another denial, because it sure as hell is conflicting with his sense of spite. “Why don’t you save any of it for yourself? You’ve been a resident here way more often than me.”

Chrysos stiffens, before puffing up a little; chin lifted indignantly and gaze judgmental. Santiago wouldn’t have it any other way.) “I was conscious all those times and did not actively inhale dangerous toxins made by a very powerful mage.”

Seriously, this guy… Santiago shakes his head. “Dude, I heard you nearly turned yourself into sand that one time, also because of ‘a very powerful mage.’ I saw for myself when you could’ve died fighting Jamil or Overblotted at the same time and had to stay in the infirmary for a very lengthy check-up. You know, you—”

died in my dream because of me and I would never forgive you or myself for that matter if that actually happened,

“—are a grade-A idiot getting hung up on the wrong details,” he decides to say instead. “One of these days, you’re gonna end up back here and I’m gonna get to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Hmph.” Chrysos scoffs and turns his head away. To anyone else, it might look aristocratically prim and stuck-up in the way his hair tosses slightly. “You wouldn’t come running to my bedside crying out my name, then?”

It’s Santiago’s turn to stiffen, feeling called out in too many ways. “...fuck, I forgot you heard me talking in my sleep. Well…” He pauses, searching for an appropriate response. “I would if you wanted me to.” He doesn’t have time to appreciate how smooth that was on his part before his traitorous mouth moves faster than his brain, going right ahead and saying, “And I’d still do it even if you didn’t want me to, ‘cause if you die on me I’m absolutely going to—”

Crap! Backtrack, backtrack, backtrack!

He shuts up immediately before he can incriminate himself any more, pursing his lips and watching carefully for signs of a negative reaction.

Almost too neutrally, Chrysos glances back over at him from the corner of his eyes, the piercing look in his irises only partially hidden by his lashes. “...You really would be that concerned?”

“Maybe,” Santiago answers, pasting on a nervous smile.

“‘Maybe’ isn’t an acceptable response.” Chrysos looks him straight in the eyes. His hand feels warmer, for some reason. “Don’t be shy. What would you do?”

Santiago huffs defensively. “Fancy that, you telling me to not be shy—”

“Santiago. Stop messing with me already.”

That tone, desperate and curious and impatient all in one, is singlehandedly more commanding than any other order Santiago has ever gotten in his life.

The beastman slumps back against the headrest, being sapped of his will to argue. He already knows it’s pointless. It’s kind of hard to beat around the bush when the bush has already slapped you in the face with a very thorny nightmare. “Miss you, probably. I mean, I dreamed about it, but…”

He thinks about the way he screamed and forced himself to wake up because that scenario had seemed so real. Probably can only begin to describe whatever he was feeling.

“...Well. You’re the only person who’s ever gotten me, y’know, so don’t die because you couldn’t help yourself. I don’t wanna have to cope with my dream becoming reality. Please,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh.” Chrysos stares blankly at him for a moment, then at their hands. “...oh,” he repeats, in a much quieter ‘sudden realization’ sort of voice.

Santiago squints at him. “Dude. What kind of guy tells his buddy to open up about his feelings in such a pleading tone and then is surprised when he actually opens up about it?”

“The one right next to you who was expecting his buddy to dodge the question again.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Santiago replies, rolls his eyes.

Chrysos worries his bottom lips, gaze shifting to the side suspiciously quickly. It looks like he’s considering something.

“...Are you taking that literally?” Santiago wants Chrysos to take what he said literally, to be honest, but that’s beside the point.

“Because you’re so dense, yes,” Chrysos snaps back. His free hand comes up to tug one of his curls closer to his face in that bashful way he always does. “If you died like you could’ve from Schoenheit’s poison, I would march right over to the afterlife and drag you back into the world of the living. Then I’d beat you into the ground for hurting me like that. Your ass is not leaving this life until I say it’s okay to. Does that make enough sense to you?”

“I don’t remember the story of the musician and his muse being this violent,” mutters Santiago, feeling incredibly touched despite the brash nature of that admission. Or maybe because of it.

Chrysos’s cheeks flush as red as the ends of his hair. “You asked. I delivered. Look who’s being a hypocrite now.”

“Touché.”

It feels like something between them has… changed, when they both fall silent for lack of things to say. Not in the terrifying way Santiago’s surroundings shifted during his nightmare, but a change for the better. Like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders, making the silence bearable.

“I… think I may need to go,” Chrysos says, a dusting of pink still on his face. Maybe because he’s spoken too much, or at least by his own standards. He stands up, letting go of Santiago’s hand. “Culture fair and. All that. You know how it is. I’ll see you—”

“Wait a minute.”

Santiago reaches out and, instead of just grabbing, intertwines their fingers. His longer ones settle perfectly between Chrysos’ knuckles as if they were meant to be there.

The merman goes still.

“Hypothetically,” Santiago begins, “if I asked you to stay a little longer—would you say yes?”

Chrysos’ mouth opens, freezes, and then closes. When he next speaks, it’s slow and cautious, like he’s testing out how the words actually feel. Testing the waters. “In this hypothetical scenario… I could be convinced to stay. Possibly.”

“Cool. So don’t run away just yet. Stay here with me.”

They make eye contact.

“...How persuasive. Well—” Chrysos sighs and sits back down, before offering Santiago a small smirk. Barely noticeable, but there. “It seems like I’ve actually got plenty of time to spare all of a sudden.”

Santiago can’t help but smile too.

#kai's writing #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #santiago parro #chrysos pendentif #with a minor guest appearance from #finn clearcove #canon character appearances <3 too lazy to tag once again #bro. these. these freaking two.#santiago 'i cope using humor because i don't think my true feelings are socially acceptable to talk about' parro #and chrysos 'i am going to go ten different kinds of insane if this bird doesn't speak clearly to me' pendentif #theyre FINALLY getting over themselves a little #santiago: im going to hide how i feel about this! he'll never know!#santiago when chrysos deems the situation dire enough to actually sniff out his bullshit: ...fuck #ill stop going insane in the tags but #these two are literally an inch away from just confessing 💀 im so done with them

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