#like i wouldn’t be an asshole bc people need time to enjoy their things

[cvsseulgi]

i hate runescape with a passion because a friend of mine would always be playing it after school and on the weekends so whenever I would knock on his door to hang out, he would tell me he couldn’t because he was playing RuneScape. and I would get So pissed. and he’d be like on his Knees begging and pleading with me to not be mad 😭 and I would just be FURIOUS bc i didn’t understand the HOLD video games could have on someone like that. like what do you MEAN you Can’t play outside bc of some game 🤨🤨🤨🤨 HOW IS THAT MORE FULFILLING???? it was so bad my god

#and it happened SO OFTEN with my friends bc i only hung out with boys most of my childhood #like runescape call of duty gta i will unfortunately hold an irrational hatred for them #FOREVER. #like objectively idc now bc i get it. I Get It. but that bitterness will not fade 😭😭😭 #and it carried over with my ex bc she would disappear for HOURS playing games or she would say she couldn’t call bc she was playing games #like i wouldn’t be an asshole bc people need time to enjoy their things #and it made me happy to know she was having a good time #but there would a pitiful little fire in my belly bc of the smoke coming out of younger me’s ears. she was SEETHING #i think it in part was the use of ‘can’t’ bc i would be like yes you can you just don’t want to #jay.txt

[aloneinthehellfire]

Eight Months

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/n went missing at the end of spring. A note was left explaining that after her father, Bob Newby, died, she just couldn’t bear to stay in Hawkins. The others were shocked but after gaining no leads on where she could be, they had to accept that she was gone. But when summer rolls in and Hawkins starts getting scary, Steve and Dustin find themselves venturing into a Russian base and uncover more secrets than they bargained for.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: swearing, [flashbacks], kidnapping, witnessing murder, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of bruises/blood, fluff and kind of angst?

[A/N: Another random thought at like 2am bc I have insomnia so enjoy. I also really enjoy writing season three fanfics.]

Eight Months [Masterlist]

Eight Months: A Surprise Reunion

[Part One]

The letter you had left in Mike Wheeler’s basement explained it all. They wouldn’t find it until after their festivities.

Your father, Bob Newby, had risked his life to save others. In your mind, and others, he was a hero.

When your mother left you both to fend for yourselves, Bob didn’t shy away from his fatherly duties. In fact, he rose to the occasion. Money was tight but he still made sure you grew up the best you could without a mother. And you soon came to realise you didn’t need one. Because he was all you needed.

When you were 17, your father had fallen in love. Joyce Byers captured his heart and you understood why; she was perfect for him. She welcomed you into her family, as did her sons, and despite the drastic change, you grew to love them all.

But, one fateful evening changed all of that. It had been innocent at first, your best friend Steve Harrington asking you to aid him in winning Nancy Wheeler back. Your heart broke at the request from years and years of hiding your feelings for him, but Nancy made him happy. And you wanted him to be happy.

Once Dustin had found you both and asked for your help, things only got worse. You were dragged into the world beneath Hawkins, learning things that should only be seen in your nightmares.

It led to your father losing his life after saving his family.

Joyce did her best, taking care of you like you were her own. But the thought of living in a town without your father was too much pain to bear. And the decision was made.

You were to move away from Hawkins and leave your goodbyes in a heartfelt letter addressed to the people you loved.

***

“Hey, assholes! Let us out!” Robin yelled, continuously thumping on the door as Steve paced the room wondering how the hell they were going to get out of here.

It all started with a secret Russian message. Translation, Dustin had said at the time. Steve should have listened to his instinct when it told him ‘translation’ would be more than he agreed to.

Now, he and his co worker Robin were trapped in a Russian base with no hope of escaping and the fear of torture on their minds.

Well, he was afraid at least. Robin, on the other hand, gave up on fear half an hour into the wait and was now trying every annoying tactic to get it over and done with.

“Cowards!” She called out when she had no response again, slumping against the wall beside her.

“Do you have to do that?” Steve asked, hands on hips, “You’re basically inviting them to torture us.”

“They don't have to take so long.” Robin said, quieter than she should have and Steve realised that the wait itself was torture for her.

“We’ll find a way out.” Steve said, nodding with such determination, Robin almost believed him.

But she knew better than to hope for miracles.

She pushed away from the wall, crossing the room and heading straight to the metal shelves at the back.

“What are you doing?” Steve followed her, frowning.

“This whole time we’ve been waiting, we could have actually seen if there was another door in this place.”

Steve stopped, pursing his lips. Robin noticed his sudden lack of movement, turning to meet her co worker’s face showing all kinds of disbelief.

“I’m not an expert on secret Russian bases but I know enough to assume that they wouldn’t lock prisoners in a room with an exit.” He stressed, pointing back the way they had walked.

Robin sighed, moving her head slightly to the right before her eyes caught something and she felt a smirk playing on her lips.

“Hm, yeah. You’re probably right.” She shrugged, looking directly to her right. “Oh, and what, pray tell, is that?”

She held her hand out and Steve craned his neck around the corner to see… another door. His breath hitched.

“Pure luck.” He grumbled as Robin let out a happy laugh, practically bouncing over to the door.

“So, dingus, it seems you know absolutely nothing about secret Russian-”

Robin’s victory was cut short when she swung open the door.

Steve frowned at her, shaking his head. “What?”

“Uh…” She stumbled over words, staring into the dark room with wide eyes.

“Let me guess, it’s a dead end?” Steve threw his hands up in exasperation, already stalking away from her. “See, I knew it. The Russians can’t be that stupid if they had a whole ass fancy elevator system and liquid that melts metal-”

“Steve.” Robin tried, her voice quiet.

“-and the fact that we needed to use vents to get in here instead of an actual door just proves-”

“Steve!” She yelled this time, raising her hand to a surrender.

“What?!” Steve turned, running a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“You should probably come see this.”

Robin said just as soon as he turned the corner again, a frown appearing on his face when he watched her disappear into the other room, enveloped by the shadows.

“Robin?” He called out in a whisper, poking his head around the door.

He squinted into the darkness before making out a shape further in, realising that Robin was crouched down on the floor. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, his heart raced.

She wasn’t alone.

Robin was knelt next to someone else, their body sat on the floor in the corner with their back against the wall, looking extremely scared of the girl in front of them.

“Hey.” Robin said soothingly, both hands held out, “We’re not here to hurt you.”

Steve took a few timid steps into the room, getting closer. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make out features on their face, eyes immediately drawn to the pair of red sneakers. He knew someone with red sneakers.

“Who are you?”

And he most definitely knew that voice.

Steve froze, all kinds of emotions bubbling inside as he reached Robin, looking over her shoulder and confirming his suspicions with a racing heart.

“Y/n?”

You whip your head up, meeting his eyes. As soon as recognition dawned on you, you sprung to your feet, shaking your head.

“Steve?” You cry and suddenly he’s pulling you into his arms, catching you in a tight hug. “What- what the hell are you doing here?”

“Me?” Steve let out a breathy laugh, releasing you and stepping back, “What about-”

All his words faded when he finally saw you within breathing distance, his breath caught in his throat.

The first thing he noticed was the healing scar; etched into your eyebrow and reaching half way up your forehead, burning red in the harsh light. Then, the various cuts on your cheek, your lip. The way your hair was tangled, some stray hairs clinging to your face. Bruises scattered across your jaw in a variety of colour, all presenting themselves as different ages. Finally, your teary eyes, the look of fear lingering as you stare back at him.

He stepped forward, cupping your cheek in his palm. The way you flinched slightly before softening under his touch didn’t go unnoticed to him.

“Y/n.” Steve’s head slowly shook side to side, eyes never leaving yours. “What happened?”

Driving away was meant to be the easy part. But that came to an untimely stop when your car broke down just outside the new building for the Starcourt Mall.

Hawkins had been working on building the mall for months, making sure it was ready to open for the summer. It was almost done but still not open to the public yet. You figured they wanted it to be perfect. It should be, considering the amount of money spent.

Stepping out of your car with a groan, you assess the damage. You hiss as smoke pours from your engine, fanning away the dirty air.

“Shit.” You mutter, glancing around you for some kind of miracle.

The drilling and digging noises from the construction site up ahead was clouding your senses to the point that if it hadn’t been for pure luck, you would have missed the figure turning a corner behind the white wall up ahead. You call out after them for help, only to be drowned out by the sounds around you. With a sigh, you slammed your hood shut and started to follow them.

The luck wasn’t as pure as you thought it would be.

Turning the corner, your eyes focus in on the man up ahead, a green uniform clinging to his body as he raised his arm. You frown, moving closer before you notice another figure on the floor, pleading.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw the gun pointing down at him.

The shot ripped through the air, the construction site proving a good distraction as you watched the pleading figure drop limply to the floor.

You couldn’t help the scream that escaped your lips.

The uniformed man caught your gaze and before you knew it, you were ambushed. Officers all around you spoke in a foreign language, raising their guns to you and you had no choice but to surrender, dropping to your knees before they dragged you away from the site and into a loading bay building.

The next few days were a blur, constant interrogation from a man you assumed was in charge.

“Who do you work for?”

That was all you were asked, the truth only earning punishments in the form of torture from men much bigger and much stronger than you. You didn’t know when they finally started believing you but soon, you were relieved from the pain and thrown into a room, only occasionally brought out when they needed information from you; the long nights of torture only led to you discussing the Upside Down, something they were very intrigued to know.

You didn’t understand why until it was too late.

They couldn’t let you go, not with the risk of you telling everyone what you had witnessed. In fact, they offered you a job so you didn’t prove as much as a burden. They weren’t too pleased when you spat the offer back in their faces, refusing to work for men trying to open another gate.

So, other than the occasional painful chit-chat about what lurks beneath Hawkins, you were confined to a dark room for what seemed like eternity.

Until one day, Steve showed up.

When you told him about what they did to you, Steve’s stomach dropped.

The day you left, he had seen you driving away in your car while he was in his own. Something in him wanted to follow you, to make sure you were okay. But, instead, he went home with the assumption that he'd just ask you about it the next day.

Finding the letter broke his heart, a pain bubbling inside when he realises he made a mistake.

And now, guilt. He could have saved you.

Regardless of when it happened, which he still struggled to figure out. After all, you can't have been down here too long, right?

“What the hell are you doing here?” You shook your head, searching Steve’s face with such intensity he was sure you were checking he wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

“It’s a long story.” Steve sighs, hands still holding your face.

“Um, hi.” The girl behind you spoke, giving a small wave, “I’m Robin.”

“Hi.” You reply with a small smile. “I’m-”

“Y/n.” She grinned, nodding, “Yeah. I know.”

Steve widened his eyes as a warning and Robin simply mocked zipping her lips shut. Let’s just say, Steve hadn’t been shy about telling his new found friend all about you. Just for her to continuously tell him that the reason he had such a problem with getting girls was because he never truly got over you.

“We cracked a secret Russian code and basically fell into this place.” Robin stated, “Like, literally. The elevator ride bruised me.”

“You came into the base?” You shake your head in confusion, “Why the hell would you-”

Your face drops into a smile and Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Dustin?” You simply ask and Steve nods his head.

“As much as I love this reunion,” Robin interrupted, stepping forward, “we’re still stuck inside a scary building with no way out.”

“There is a way out.” You say quietly, stepping out of Steve’s gentle hold and hugging your torso. He frowns at your action, watching how you avoid his eyes.

“Really?” Robin’s face lit up, bounding over to you, “How?”

“You just need a keycard.” You say and her face falls. You notice, leaning back against the wall. “You guys did have a keycard when you broke in here, right?”

The silence was your answer and you sighed, rubbing your forehead.

“Okay,” You continue, starting to pace the room. “there’s always Plan B.”

“Plan B?” Steve raised his eyebrow and you shifted, taking a breath.

“Distraction.”

“Distraction?” Robin took her turn to query as Steve stood there, realisation already dawning on him.

“No, absolutely not.” He shakes his head profusely, stepping towards you.

“We can’t all leave.” You raise your chin slightly, showcasing your stubbornness. “The best I can do is get the both of you…”

As you look between them, you look taken-aback and Steve begins to internally panic. What were you thinking? Did you think something was going on between them?

“… what the hell are you wearing?”

“Oh.” Robin looked down, smirking, “We’re not actual sailors. We work at Scoops.”

“Scoops?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, the ice-cream place.” Robin nods, frowning when you still don’t understand “At the mall?”

You shake your head, “It opened?”

“Like, ages ago.” She laughed awkwardly, sharing a look with Steve. “Wait. How long have you been down here?”

“I don’t know.” You admit, shrugging. “You don’t really get much sunlight underground, you know?”

"When did you get back to Hawkins?" Steve questions, obviously oblivious to the situation.

"Get back?" You shake your head and he sighs, heart beating faster.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Steve frowns, and you whip your head up, twisting your face as you tried to recollect.

“Uh… it was…” You slowly start nodding, “The party thing? Or dance, I don’t know.”

Steve shrugged when Robin looked at him.

“Oh!” You suddenly say, remembering. “I was leaving a letter in the basement because I knew no one would be there. The kids were going to the Snow Ball at the middle school.”

“As in… winter-time?” Robin’s voice raises in pitch and you nod.

“Yeah?”

“Y/n…” Steve catches your eyes and your face falls as you see the concern spread across it. “That was eight months ago.”

“Eight-” You take a breath, shaking your head. “No, no. I- I can’t have been here for eight months. It’s not-”

Your hand flies to cover your mouth as you realise. Time really had slipped away.

“I’m so-” Steve runs to comfort you when a loud sound rings out from the front of the room, his eyes widening as Russian is yelled and echoed from the walls.

“What do they want?” Robin whispers, her hands shaking slightly.

“They said they want to speak to the boy.” You translate, slowly looking to Steve. Eight months is all it took for you to start understanding Russian.

“Stay here.” Steve says, ignoring your protests as he steps out into the open.

You and Robin try to run after him, watching in horror as he’s dragged away.

You knew all too well what room he was going to end up in.

to be continued...

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfic #the battle of starcourt #fanfic

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 from rivalry to idolatry, pt. 2 - ellie williams 】

ellie williams x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

link to part one

content: modern!au, angst, arguments again, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, mutual (secret but then not) pining, confession, eventual fluff, resolution

a/n: part two!!! the only reason i split this up into two parts is bc it would've been WAY too long as one. i hope yall are enjoying this oneshot mini series :)

Things between you and Ellie continued to be awkward for months to come, and it only amplified once the spring semester started. Competition was right around the corner, and once more you two would have to face each other. Ellie would never admit it, but she was out of ideas. She had no idea what to make, no idea what the judges wanted, what people expected of her. She knew they wanted something grand, but she didn’t know how to give that to them.

She’d stay in the pottery room for hours, sketching, sculpting, testing out different forms, but nothing came to her. She was so lost. She didn’t know what to do with herself, she didn’t know how she felt towards you, and she didn’t know what to do for this fucking competition. She kept shaping the clay, moving it and testing it, and for a second it felt like she had an idea. A morsel of inspiration. She followed the clay as it moved, twisting it and turning it, then nothing. Nothing. Nothing was coming to her.

“Fuck!” she yelled. She stopped pushing the pedal and smashed the clay with her fists. She tilted over the potter’s wheel, the tabletop making a loud clang! as it collided with the ground. “Motherfucker!” She kicked the clay a few times then collapsed on the floor as hot, angry tears poured out her eyes.

“E-Ellie?” a voice asked in the distance. You had forgotten one of your sketchbooks the last time you had been in the pottery room, so you made a trip that night to retrieve it. You could've waited till the morning, but you needed it to attempt to work on your competition piece. Ellie looked up to see you had entered the room, which made her despair feel a thousand times worse. She had always put up an image with you. She made herself look tough, strong, like the biggest asshole on campus, and now here she was collapsed on the floor sobbing in frustration. You had seen her be weak.

“[Y/N], please, leave me alone.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just stay away from me.”

“I can’t just leave you like this, Ellie,” you insisted. You stepped closer to where she was, and she couldn’t believe you weren’t listening.

“[Y/N], goddammit, I said get the fuck away from me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

You didn’t listen to her and instead got down on your knees to where she was. You extended your hand towards her.

“Hey, just talk to me,” you whispered. She shook her head.

“No. Not you. Not you of all people.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how you do it. How do you not snap under the pressure?”

“It’s not easy, but I don’t let myself get consumed by it,” you answered. It clearly wasn’t the response she wanted, because she seemed even more upset than before.

“Just fuck off, please.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your fucking help!” she shouted. She stood up quickly and you followed suit.

“God, Ellie, I can't believe you. I am so tired!” you yelled back. You had always argued back with her, but she hadn’t expected you to snap at her during a moment like this. She had hoped you would just give up on her and leave.

“Tired of what?” she asked.

“I am tired of this back and forth. Aren’t you? It’s been three—almost four fucking years. We need to grow up.”

“Oh, right, because I’m so immature and you’re just the perfect grown-up.”

“That’s not what I said. Stop putting words in my mouth. That’s all you ever do. You push and you push me away, but you don’t ever think about how I feel.”

“Then how do you feel, [Y/N]? Do you hate my guts? Do you wish I was never born? Do you hate seeing my face everyday?”

“No!” you yelled at her. “God, you always do this. I don’t hate you, Ellie! I never have! You know what I have hated? Not being able to be friends with you. Always having to argue with you. I miss the way it was when we were freshmen. We could get along then, and I want that back.”

“How could you not hate me? I’m a piece of shit, I’m an asshole, and all I ever do is argue with you.”

“Because I know deep down inside you don’t hate me,” you pleaded.

Ellie said nothing as she just stared at you. She didn’t deserve anything from you, not even your kindness, but she couldn't hold back anymore. She couldn’t carry the weight of the pressure anymore, and that’s when she finally snapped.

“I-I don’t,” Ellie finally sobbed out. “I just hate everything.” The tears flowed out her eyes, and before she could stop you, you pulled her in. You wrapped your arms around her strongly. “I don’t know what I’m doing. What am I gonna do with myself? I don’t want this anymore.” The words kept spilling out her mouth. “I don’t want to be an artist, and I don’t care to win this competition anymore. None of this is what I want.” You rubbed her back gently, and that’s when you finally felt her hug you back.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Everything will be okay.”

“I’ve been such an asshole to you. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” you said. “Right now, we’re talking about you.”

“Everyone said we were supposed to be rivals, and we let that get between us. I felt like I wasn’t worthy to be your rival, or to be praised by our professors. I felt like I wasn’t good enough for anything. I wanted to prove myself, and now that I’ve won I hate it.”

“You are enough, Ellie, and you’re worthy of everything. Everything you do is good enough, and you’re the only person I’ve ever considered my competition. No one else can compete with me but you.”

“Do you mean that?” You could hear her sniffling.

“I do.” You rubbed her back once more, toying with the loose strands of hair close to her neck. “I don’t know what I’m doing for this competition either.”

“That makes two of us,” she joked, and it was the first time in a long time you had heard her laugh.

“I haven’t heard you laugh in forever.” You tightened your arms around her. “I’ve missed it.” That only made Ellie sob more.

“I’ve missed being your friend,” Ellie choked out. “I hated being enemies.”

“Me too.” You two stayed like that for a while, just standing in each other’s arms, and that’s when you had an idea. “Who said we have to do a single submission?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked, pulling away to finally look at you. Ellie’s eyes may have been red from all her crying, but to you she was still as pretty as she had always been.

“Why don’t we partner up?” you asked. As soon as the words left your mouth, Ellie pulled you into an even tighter hug. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you idiot.” And for the first time in a long time, you two laughed together.

You both started working on your project together immediately. You came up with different concepts together, drew rough sketches, looked for inspiration, everything. In fact, all the time you two were spending together was beginning to mend your relationship. You two spent a lot of time talking about what went wrong, why you were both so horrible to each other, and how sorry both of you were. It honestly helped you both to understand each other better, and other people began to notice. Whispers began spreading among other students about how Ellie Williams and [Y/N] [L/N] weren’t fighting anymore, and many of them were trying to figure out why. Two sworn enemies suddenly best friends? It just doesn’t happen without a cause. One night, while working extra late together, the two of you finally developed an idea for your work.

“We should do something based on the Greeks!” you said excitedly.

“Holy shit, you’re a genius!” Ellie shouted. She high-fived you before pulling you into a hug. She could smell your perfume, and for a moment she felt like she was weak in the knees, struggling to compose herself. The two of you pulled away and whipped out your sketchbooks, immediately generating ideas. Ellie looked over at you, at the way you scribbled passionately. She could see how excited and fired up you were, and this was the kind of fire she liked on you, not the angry kind. It was then that she realized she knew how she truly felt for you. She wanted you. The question was: would you ever want her? Was she even worthy? After how she had treated you for years? That revelation itself felt like it had been bestowed upon her by the gods, like she had been struck by Cupid’s bow. Love and hate: it was the progression of your relationship. Was there ever anything so similar but so different at the same time? The thought provided Ellie with the inspiration she needed.

“What if we create a goddess? One that has two natures? Like love and war, or creation and destruction?” she asked.

“I like it!” You flipped to a new page and began drawing up new ideas to share with Ellie. After more brainstorming you eventually came up with the idea for your created goddess. One half of her would be beautifully dressed in a gown, while the other half of her would be dressed for war. It would take at least three months to complete, but that was alright. It was a team effort, wasn’t it? For the first time in a long time Ellie felt excited to be participating in the competition, all thanks to you.

The months passed slowly at first, until they began to go by rapidly. Ellie loved everyday with you, and you looked forward to your late nights with her more and more. The day began to feel incomplete if you didn’t see her. That night you were the first to arrive at the art room you used to work on your project. Ellie arrived a little late, but that was because she came with coffee, and she managed to get you your favorite. You were touched that she remembered.

“What are we working on today?” you asked.

“We’re shaping with metal rods. So we gotta get her shape and all that done.”

“Okay, got it,” you said with determination. Ellie pulled out the large, wooden board she had left in the room this morning for your work tonight. She laid it flat on the floor and began working on connecting the rods for the feet to the board. She rolled her sleeves up as she got busy, making sure the feet were placed in the position you both wanted. For the side of the goddess that wore a gown, she could just place three rods, two of them slanted diagonally towards the middle one, in order to hold the shape of it. However, the other side would just require one straight rod and a smaller one on the board for her foot. Once Ellie was satisfied she stood up from her prone position on the floor and took a drink from her coffee.

“Alright, the base is set up, so we just gotta connect the hips and torso and all that.” You nodded and grabbed the other rods on the table and handed them to Ellie. You worked on connecting them together, dead set on getting her pose correct. Although you helped put the pieces together, Ellie refused to let you tighten them. She wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have to.

“You need any help?” you asked. She shook her head.

“No, I got it.”

“You sure?” You didn’t want her to do too much work.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, okay?” If this was the old Ellie you would’ve taken that sarcastically, but the softness of her voice let you know she was being sincere. You got closer to her and watched her work.

“So you think I’m pretty?” you teased. You watched her arms flex as she bent and shaped the rods then tightened them together. You could see the small beads of sweat sliding down her neck.

“You want me to be honest?” she asked.

“Yes. I want you to tell me exactly what you think.”

“I think you’re very pretty,” she finally said. “You’re so pretty it hurts. Sometimes I can’t breathe.” Her back straightened once she finished and she turned towards you. When she looked at you and saw how the light shone on you, she thought she saw an angel. She liked the way you looked at her, the way you watched her while she worked. It made her feel good, worthwhile. It just felt so natural and so right to have you here with her while she worked. Working together with you felt natural. She couldn’t stop herself as she reached over and kissed your cheek.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” she apologized once she realized what she’d done. There was a surprised expression on your face, but you still said nothing as you only stared at each other. She felt everything crashing down on her. Had she ruined everything after the two of you had just fixed things?

“I don’t mind,” you finally said. You grabbed her hand and laced your fingers with hers. “It’s alright with me.” Ellie couldn’t believe it. You were actually alright with her kissing you? You weren’t angry?

“Really?” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

Ellie scanned your face, realizing how much she truly loved you and everything about you. She adored you. She worshipped you. All these years she had just been pushing away that love because everyone around her made her feel like she couldn’t love you, and that you could only ever be her nemesis. While memorizing every feature of your face, her eyes landed on your lips. She wanted you more than she’d ever wanted anything in her whole life.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked. She blurted the words out before she could even think twice, before she could even stop herself.

“As many times as you want,” you answered. Ellie grabbed your arms and pulled you into her as her lips landed on yours. She grabbed your chin as she kissed you until her lips were the only thing you could think of. Your hands immediately found their way to her hair as she kissed you intensely. Was this what the two of you had wanted all along? Ellie knew in her heart this was what she always wanted: to be with you, not against you, and that’s exactly how you felt. All you ever wanted was to be able to be close to Ellie the way you always knew possible. You wanted to salvage the relationship you could’ve had had you not been pitted up against each other, and now you had. When you two finally pulled away, you stared into each other’s eyes in awe. You wanted to kiss Ellie over and over again.

“I haven’t always treated you right, or like you deserve, and I’m sorry for that,” Ellie said. “I want to change that. I’ll spend my whole life repenting if I have to.”

“I think we both became horrible people to each other,” you added.

“Yeah, but more so me than you.”

“You were challenging at times,” was all you said. Ellie laughed and you could feel her hands rubbing your back. Her touch was more comforting than you ever imagined.

“That’s a polite way to put it.” Ellie was beautiful like this. Her eyes were bright, she had a carefree smile on her face, and her expression was just soft.

“You know what this feels like right now?” you asked. “When we were freshmen, we just met each other, everything was new, and we were friends. This is how that feels.”

“Oh,” Ellie said. “Am I being friend-zoned?”

“Oh, shit, wait, no,” you stumbled. “That wasn’t the best way to put it. What I mean is things feel the way they did when we first met and when things hadn’t changed yet.”

“Makes sense. Yeah, I don’t think you kiss your friends, [Y/N],” she joked.

“I know that.”

“You wanna get back to our project?” she asked. You nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

After hours of work you and Ellie finally finished your base at midnight. You both let out sighs of release once it was finished, glad your project was one step closer to completion—though far away from now. The months leading up to the competition passed without much hardship. Making the piece no longer felt like a burden, but something enjoyable now. As Ellie worked she found herself eyeing her tattoo more and more. She really loved every part of it, but also the way she appreciated it as well. If she loved getting tattoos so much, she began to wonder if she’d love doing them just as much. That night, while she lay in bed staring at her tattoo, she realized she may have found something to do with herself.

You were ecstatic when the day of the competition came. You would finally get to show off all your hard work with Ellie. The sculpture turned out more beautiful than you thought it would, and you learned more about using clay than you ever knew before. Ellie definitely taught you a lot and helped you improve. You and Ellie worked together on everything, but you also used your own personal skills to enhance certain aspects of it. You used your painting techniques to make the woman’s eyes stand out, to emphasize the harsh nature of her war clothes, the dimensions in her hair. Ellie’s impeccable sculpting technique was used to create a strong form that was incredibly symmetrical. The sculpture was striking to say the least. Her beautiful, white gown, her contrasting dark war attire, the regality of her expression, and the fact that everything about her commanded your respect, which you liked the most.

The competition’s judges were surprised to see that you and Ellie had teamed up for the piece, but they welcomed it. They seemed impressed with it and asked you both many questions about the story behind it and your creative process.

“Do you think we’ll win?” you asked Ellie.

“To be honest, I don’t really care if we win,” Ellie said simply. You were surprised by her answer. In the past she had cared about winning so much that it tore her apart, but she was different now. You both were.

“What changed?”

“It’s not important to me anymore. I don’t really care about the art world or what it has to say about me. It’s not the kind of art I want to make, anyways.”

“Well, do tell me what kind you want to make then,” you implored.

“I want to be a tattoo artist,” she announced. “I think it suits me better.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” you replied.

“You can be the professional artist in this relationship,” she said, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “I’ll brag about you, hang your paintings up in my studio, and talk about my artist girlfriend every five minutes.”

“You have quite the way with words.”

“How else will I seduce you?” she asked. She reached for your hand before clasping it into hers. “As long as I’m with you, everything is okay.”

Like Ellie predicted you didn’t win the art competition, but neither of you were too upset about this. Ellie felt like she couldn’t be mad, not when she had you. You were more important than any competition.

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us

[erithel]

Klancers who hate canon lance are so weird and I don’t know why they’re even here. I feel like they just saw allurance, hated it, and projected all their hatred onto him. I saw a klancer say they hate him bc he’s canonly an unempathetic and self centered jerk. Unempathetic?? Lance who stuck up for the Blade of Mamora in canon, the one who everyone looked to give Keith the feelings talk, stuck by Pidge about her dad, and the only character to call out Lotor for not freeing the planets he colonized? That lacking empathy character? And self centered when he was willingly to give up Red and Blue to Allura and Keith? Ready to give up his desire to pilot black to encourage keith to take the role? That self centered selfish asshole?

Canon and fanon Lance gets treated badly by the very fandom who ships hims with keith sometimes and we need to talk about this.

Is...is that a thing? Why would someone like a ship that included a character they hated? I’m actually asking, here, because I’ve never come across someone who ships klance who dislikes either one of them. It’s always the opposite in my experience, where they really enjoy finding good and bad qualities in both characters to make them more relatable and human.

I know that people can ship whoever they want, for whatever reasons they want, but I just feel that if someone actively dislikes Lance then maaaaaybe they should find a ship that they actually enjoy?

But okay... if we wanna talk about how empathetic Lance is...he is. 

The impression I got of him is that he is very aware and sensitive to how others are feeling around him (aka empathetic).  Honestly the only character he is unwarrantedly, legitimately mean to is himself.

And okay, it’s been a while since I dug deep on a post, so here we go.

Lance was the youngest of his siblings (I believe that is actually canon in the paladin handbooks?). Being the youngest, he would have wanted to stand out, which is the most likely reason why he is loud and abrasive, and butts into conversations in an antagonistic way at times. This doesn’t make him self-centered, it just means he has learned that in order to be heard, he has to make himself heard.

The most relatable thing about Lance in my opinion, is how basically all of his behavior can be explained by how others have lead him to believe he is stupid. (This honestly hits on a very personal note for me so it’s something I noticed in Lance quickly.)

He notices everyone around him, and he wants to stand out from the bunch - but he believes he can’t do it with his own intelligence so he finds other ways to stand out. He makes sure others know he is there, even if it means he is the butt of the joke.

It’s easier for him to cope with feeling stupid if he is in control of the narrative.

This, again, doesn’t make him a self centered jerk, it just makes him desperate for a place among his peers, while battling the feeling that he doesn’t deserve that place.

Because emotions are complicated.

The instance where he stood up for the Blade of Marmora is possibly the best example of empathy and lack of self-centeredness.

Lance noticed the scene playing out. He noticed the disdainful looks the Galra were getting and he put himself in their shoes, because he knows what it feels like to be looked down on and he doesn’t want that for anyone else when they don’t deserve it. So the minute something even remotely negative was said toward the Blade, he jumped in and made sure everyone knew that he, a paladin of Voltron, was recognizing and acknowledging the Blade members for their assistance. 

If he had been a self-centered person, he would have taken all the praise for himself and not thought twice about it. If he had been an unempathetic person, he wouldn’t have even noticed the way others were treating the Blade members.

In my opinion, Lance is the most selfless and empathetic character of all of them.

And one of my favorite tropes with klance is having Keith recognize this; having Keith understand how much Lance contributed to the team just by being himself and being there for others. 

That’s the kind of potential that makes klance a good ship to me, and if people are ignoring those traits in Lance then what’s the point of shipping them?

#klance #lance mcclain #asks #VLD #erithel's hot takes

[threehuskiesinatrenchcoat]

Heya, ngl I was second guessing myself the entire time I wrote this, but I have a goal and ain’t no quitter! 😤

Additionally, I almost watched all of the movies for research purposes, but then I got lazy (so I blame any inaccuracies on that)

'what do you do in your free time?' 'oh i write robot porn and send it to my friends' :D this is what accomplishment feels like let’s ignore how this is way too long for a drabble and i haven’t even gotten to the main part yet

Well, anyways, this is all still sfw, bc I apparently can’t write anything without doing a bunch if worldbuilding lmao. Enjoy!

Graves sat in his car, sighing heavily. Today had been another unsurprisingly shit day and he couldn’t wait to get home. The people responsible for taking care of whatever the instances of destroyed towns and explosions were had refused for his team to handle said instances and he was fed up with them rejecting him access to even the least significant destruction site. He knew it had to do with alien life landing on earth, knew there was conflict between groups of these aliens and knew he could help. Hell, all he’d need to do is ask his friend! Sighing again, he looked out onto the street, checking for passerbies. Deeming it safe to do so, he gently tapped the middle console as a wake up call and held his breath. He watched in quiet awe as a body started manifesting on the passenger seat: male, middle aged with tan skin, a short beard and the most perfect laying hair in existence. Graves knew he could sit there and stare at Alejandro forever, the process of him manifesting out of nothing never loosing its impressiveness. "Nice to have you back. How was the nap?"

He tried to sound casual, as if the other wasn’t somehow occupying his every thought way too often to be healthy. Honestly, he had no clue where the alien went when he wasn’t in sight, probably teleporting somewhere cozy and nice to eat and sleep, he guessed. All he knew was that the surefire way to get his attention was a double tap on the console and he made sure to make that the first thing he did every time he entered his car.

"It was good, thanks. How did the meeting go? The higher-ups give you any trouble?" Alejandro smiled at him, he did that a lot, and tilted his head when Phillip scoffed and started the car.

"They were a bunch of assholes as always, wouldn’t let me send investigation teams to the newest sightings, because it’s apparently 'a matter of international security some mercenaries shouldn’t concern themselves with'. I hate them so much, I could eat my boots!" He huffed in agitation, checked the rearview mirror and pulled onto the street proper, following the signs towards the highway.

Alejandro laughed, or at least produced the equivalent of it his species was capable of. It sounded strange, slightly metallic, but Phillip had grown used to the tinny tone of it. "Boots aren’t safe to consume for humans." Said human rolled his eyes, but didn’t try to hide his grin, before looking as serious as possible and throwing a short glance towards the other man.

"Are you sure?" His question had the desired effect of Alejandro doubting himself and it made him giggle quietly. It was way too easy to mess with the alien and Phillip felt like he‘d never grow tired of it. The other had seemed to realize Graves was just messing with him and grumbled under his breath before falling quiet. The silence lasted until they arrived back home. Alejandro had been staying with him for a while already, their easy camaraderie and comfortable habits had developed almost naturally over time, had become something Phillip treasured.

Recently though, he couldn’t stop himself from wishing for their friendship to be more than what it was. He caught himself staring at Alejandro more often, trying to find excuses to be closer to him and flirting. Especially the last part was worrying him, because it seemed like the alien had started flirting back and Graves wasn’t sure if the other knew the implications of it or not. Oh god, he wished he knew; it‘d make the whole ordeal so much easier, ignoring the part where he didn’t know what was down Alejandro’s pants. Don’t get him wrong, he had definitely theorized about it, but downright asking had felt like too bold of a step. He ended up not being able to shake the thought as he pulled the car into the driveway and drove into his garage.

It had looked pretty bare beforehand, but after meeting the alien and him insisting on living in the garage and not a spare bedroom, Phillip had put in some bare necessities like a couch, a table and two chairs. The mini fridge in the corner of the room had already been installed back when he‘d bought the place, and that was where he was headed after exiting the vehicle to grab a cold beer and offer one to Alejandro who refused politely, as always.

Graves shrugged and put it back, opening his own and leaning against the fridge’s side to look at the other man. He knew he was staring and should probably stop, but how could he when Alejandro was staring back so prettily?

"Something on your mind?" The alien tilted his head inquisitively, a gesture he picked up from Phillip. It made the human‘s heart flutter to realize he had an influence on him, to know that he paid enough attention to him, at least subconsciously, to pick up some of his habits.

The silence had stretched on for too long, as Alejandro slowly started grinning at rendering him speechless. Phillip scrambled to find an answer, anything to say or talk about, but he felt his throat closing up as he watched the alien slowly stalk towards him. "Or is it someone? Dilated pupils in humans can mean attraction." He sounded way too smug for Graves‘ liking.

Embarrassed at being caught, he quickly looked to the side, his gaze landing on the car. "Well, are you gonna do something about it?" He stared back directly into the other’s eyes, raising a brow at him in challenge. This could go very, very wrong, but he honestly wasn’t using his brain right now. Cursing his lack of logical thoughts, he couldn’t help but inhale sharply as Alejandro cupped his face with his hands. They were cool on his skin, not cold, but absent of warmth like the air itself held his face.

"You wouldn’t be able to handle all of me, mi amor." It took Phillip a moment to fight through the fog laying over his mind, but it must’ve been apparent the moment the other’s words registered, as Alejandro laughed, the metallic quality of it sounding like it echoed through the garage a bit too loudly.

His look of confusion melted into annoyance. "Oh really? Have more confidence in me. I know I can take it, I could take you." He might’ve stumbled a bit over his last few words, might’ve sounded a bit too desperate, even to his own ears, but it was worth it the way Alejandro’s gaze softened. Even if the amusement in it was laced with exasperation, Phillip couldn’t help but feel like he won- right up until the other stepped back and shook his head.

"You haven’t seen my true form. You can’t be a judge of that."

"Then show me" A beat of silence, Alejandro looked unsure about the request, but ended up shrugging and suddenly his form flickered before disappearing. Graves had seen that trick often enough, but what he wasn’t prepared for was his car, standing only a few meters away where he had parked it, to start creaking. Metal grinding on metal, it rose and fluidly rearranged its parts, the process looking both terrifying and mesmerizing. It was humanoid in shape, so tall it had to crouch to fit into the garage und looked almost mocking the way it stared back at the gobsmacked human. Its face was something straight out of a sci-fi movie, all angles and metal and edges. It looked dangerous, like a chainsaw was dangerous in its potential to kill you if you didn’t know how to handle it properly.

He tried coming up with an answer to this reveal, but eventually just blurted out a weak: "What?"

I AM GIGGLING LIKE A MADMAN I LOVE YOU this is so good holy fuck ahahahaha oh my fucking god your galaxy brain. i already said i admire the dedication but sitting through almost all of the movies for this is something else, ur a real one. the movies are my guilty pleasure tho...

fr going in blind reading this i would never think you weren't really into the franchise before that

love how you handled ale and their little banter and inherent differences and the way graves doesn't really fully grasp _how_ different are they too used to him appearing human and normal and within his comfort zone. the way he didn't expect anything like this at all. and tried to accommodate him as one would a human or at least an organic species. poor bastard about to learn some new facts about himself and how far attraction can go, as if being down bad for an alien in theory wasn't enough. also i love that ale is very much himself just a bit behind on human culture. and i love ale being so soft for him but holding back because he's not sure how graves will react 😩 alejandro's a lucky bastard, gonna find out that his little human is a freak (affectionate) soon enough

also the worldbuilding for stuff like this is important and i love when people do that! by all means go off, i love your writing style.

i re-read this like three times before answering. i can't get enough of this thing. everything about this is so good. you managed to turn a crack au into something wonderfully perfect. god I'm such a robot fucker. and so is graves

#alejandro vargas #phillip graves #alegraves

[eldesperadont]

now with Jay White having left njpw ….. im mourning all the interesting development for his character that they didnt do. It makes me so tired of njpws „longterm booking“ and how it doesnt really work with their big name gaijins cause nobody stays long enough like an Okada or Naito.

since he joined Bullet Club it’s basically been the same plotpoint on repeat with some characters around him getting changed and replaced, and everytime sth happened that had me hoping for bigger development it just .. was the same again.

And i know im not alone with having wanted more out of Jays character, just look at the fan reaction to his WK loss to Ibushi, how that match and the promo afterwards got people to genuinely care for this pathetic asshole, cause of Jamies amazing performance as a broken insecure fucked up dude. Wishing for a faceturn or literally anything that wasnt the same “oh actually im great and im gonna ignore my issues”-thing again.

Over the last 5 years ive seen so many interesting ideas and speculations fans had about what we were shown on screen, but barely any of it actually led anywhere. (the amount of times they could have done an interesting betrayal with interesting fallout is driving me insane, instead they dragged this storyline forward like a corpse till Jay left)

I know that they needed Jay in that role with BC cause it makes them money, but as someone who enjoys wrestling the most cause of the stories: they are not getting me to pay for their product when i constantly have to hold back my excitement over sth cause the chance of it actually leading somewhere satisfying has been so damn low in the last 2-3 years.

from the top of my head: the last njpw storybeats that stayed with me and had me go „god this is why i watch wrestling“ were

Ibushi vs Despe cause of how perfect it was with their history (and that was on accident!! If hiromu wouldnt have been injured we wouldn’t even have gotten that)

the ELP/Robbie single matches saga

pretty much all of Jays big matches, BUT *read the above paragraphs again*

Hiromu and Desperados first BOSJ Final match cause of everything leading up to it and everything in the match - after that they kinda hit the repeating storybeat problem too

double champ Naito.

But also way too many that led nowhere/had immersion breaking ridiculous outcomes (I’ll never be over how dirty they did Kenta with that stupid US title).

Theres small stuff inbetween that i enjoyed, and theres definitely stuff i missed that i might have loved if i would have seen it, which i didnt cause all my issues with their product led me to stop watching 🙃

anyways: i have a toxic love hate relationship with NJPW and all their characters that i like are my ocs now, i took the kids in the divorce

#(had a version of this in my drafts since January) #this a completely personal opinion #i know the business is complicated and theres sm we dont know that goes into decision making but yeah this is my thoughts as a fan #anyways hoping the best for Jamie he does fantastic work thx for making me care that much #percht.txt #wrestling thoughts tm #njpw #jay white

[evansbby]

JUST READ WG 2 AND GIRLL I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. First off, good on my girl for not texting Ari back and having an actual spine🤬🤬 (even if she did her manipulated like 5 seconds later but I'm just happy she stood for herself.) And then the whole thing with Curtis, I thought it was kinda cute but then I got turned off cause he left so easily. Like is Ari your daddy or what? The smut was sooo filthy in this chapter. He's such an asshole but I loved how possessive he was of her. I wanted to punch his handsome face and kiss it at the same time. He's literally such a bitch. Leaving her like that after he fucked her in front of everyone. I mean he did clean her up this time and they had a cute little moment and he was clearly a teeny bit hesitant to leave her for Sharon for a moment. BUT HE STILL DID. ASSHOLE. I absolutely hate him for that🙄🙄

BUTTT when Steve arrived omg. I love how he babies her sm and ugh, I'm just imagining tall, blonde, handsome Steve saving her from Ari. Ari getting so jealous over seeing her a guy who can finally compete w him was so satisfying. Like we have options too. And I ❤️ how clearly Steve paid some dude to act like an Uber and drive back to her place and made her sit on his lap and made her shut up abt Ari. Now maybe I'm biased but ughhh I want him for her so bad, like he treats her so well from the get go and isn't an ass like Ari. When he said "if u were my girl u wouldn't be able to step a foot in this party let alone be left alone unattended" I literally folded. And when he gave her his jacket and told her to hand it up where everyone else can see?????? I hope Ari sees that shit and loses it.

in all honesty, I'm still rooting for my daddy Ari ��� but idk he's such a bitch but I feel like HE CAN CHANGE. Maybe if he really tries. I need him to!! I want him to realize that he wants her and beg for her forgiveness but at the same time, I want to see him suffer cause tbh he doesn't deserve her.

Thank u for the delicious fic again girlie, this literally made my morning

--🚿🚿

Omg shower anon!!! Thank you for reading!!! And sending this feedback!!🩷🩷🩷🙏🏼🙏🏼

Firstly yes, reader had a spine and didn’t text Ari back and I love that for her despite the fact that she proceeded to fall into his trap at the party anyways😂😭

And bahahaha you’re so right like WHY did Curtis back off so easily SKSJSKAK but it’s bc Ari is the leader of the group and they all respect him and so Curtis wouldn’t really go after Ari’s girl (he was pushing it tho, I think he enjoyed playing with her)

Now the Ari public party smut was meant to be filthy and nobody has commented on the things he was saying 😭😭 like bro really lost it with the “you wish sharon was watching us don’t you” 💀💀💀💀 BUT READER LIKED IT aksjskskak

And okay so the Steve part! So the guy actually WAS an Uber driver, Steve just paid him not to say anything while he made reader ride him in the backseat 😂 like a little extra tip for the driver to be silent and mind his business ajsjsjaja these guys are DARK yall 😭😭

Now bestie I wouldn’t say Steve “treats her well” seeing as he’s got subtle dark, dangerous moments throughout AND he also manipulates her and takes advantage of her… almost like he’s got an ulterior motive 🤔 bUT YES HE IS AS OF RIGHT NOW LESS OF AN ASS THAN ARI SO I GET YOUUU

but shower anon ily for still rooting for Ari!!! Only bc it’s nice to have some variety and seems like most others are rooting for Steve!! Which is good, I needed people to root for him too, that’s why I wrote him to be so dark dangerous and hot 🤭🤭

#anon #🚿anon #wg ask

[irrelevantwriter]

Let Me Make It Up To You

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, 18+, NSFW, 18+ only

Warnings: Angst, language, mentions of drug use, slight sub/dom dynamics, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, switch!Eddie (bc our boyfriend is both hard and soft)

Word Count: 5388

Summary: You and Eddie have some unresolved feelings that need addressing.

A/N: Angst and smut? Yep. That’s what this is. And we get a bit of a happy ending. This was actually inspired by the wild ass concept that Billy was just tripping balls as a possessed lifeguard in season three while Eddie’s just vibing. It went in a different direction than I initially intended, but it be like that sometimes. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

*Check out my other Eddie fics here

*****************************

It was fucking hot.

Eddie wiped at his forehead, barely moving his limbs. Every move felt like it took too much energy in the blistering summer sun. He sunk further into the shade afforded to him by the blue slide he hid under. He inhaled off the joint he’d rolled, thankful that it was at least too hot for the kids to play on the playground he currently sat beneath.

Instead, most of Hawkins’ youth were feet away beyond the chain link fence. He could hear them splashing as they frolicked in the chlorinated pool, random bursts of whistleblowing taking place as the lifeguards sat perched in their chairs. He glanced down at his watch, seeing the seconds tick by as he waited. A loud scream permeated the air as someone did a cannonball off the high dive, splashing everyone in the vicinity. He was tempted to seek refuge in the clear water, but he preferred the privacy of Lover’s Lake. Too many eyes here. Too many assholes.

He began to tap his foot to an unknown beat, starting to get antsy. Usually he could stay well hidden beneath the playground. But sometimes he got caught. He’d gotten kicked out of this area more times than he could count, but it was a popular spot for him to conduct business. Or to just hang out. Most of the time he was left alone. People knew not to approach and those that did often needed his services.

“You can’t be here.”

The voice startled him, causing him to whip his head around. He scoffed when he saw who it was.

“You gonna tell on me?” He taunted, ignoring the warning and continuing to smoke.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, stepping closer. The sun reflected off your skin, a mixture of baby oil and sunscreen making the flesh appear luminescent. He took note of the red polish adorning your fingernails and toes, matching the red swimsuit and shorts you wore. Your eyebrow was arched over the red heart-shaped sunglasses perched on your nose. He could see your eyes narrow behind the lenses, waiting for him to heed your words and leave.

He wouldn’t.

“Someone already did, Munson. That’s why I’m here.”

He scoffed once again, not able to contain the action. “They sent you to chase me away?”

“Yeah, well Billy’s acting weirder than normal so I got stuck running off the strays.”

“Very sweet, darlin’.” He retorted dryly, flicking ash off his fast dwindling joint.

“Just doing my job.”

A long silence stretched out between you two. It was tense as you each waited for the other person to fold. You crossed your arms, apparently digging in your heels. He settled his elbows on his knees, making himself comfortable.

“Very mature,” you snapped, taking note of his relaxed position.

“You used to think so.”

He heard you inhale sharply at his comment. He’d hit a nerve. Good, he thought. You deserved it.

“I never thought that.” You stepped closer, bringing with you a delicate breeze.

“So you never got off on the fact that I was older than you? A freak. A rebel. A drug dealer. None of it?”

He heard you sigh, a tired one. He didn’t care. Two summers ago you’d been infatuated with him. You were glued to his side. It was a summer fling, but at the time it’d been so much more. To you both. At least that was what you claimed. And then school had started in the fall and you’d gone off to college while he repeated his senior year. You’d both tried to keep it going, to let the passion from long heated nights carry over into chilly fall evenings, but it didn’t. You were too busy making a place for yourself in the world. And he was fine with that. But you’d been dismissive of him. And for that he’d never fully forgiven you for it. Even after you came back to Hawkins in the summers. He avoided you. And you him. It was better that way. There were too many things left unsaid. Too much hurt leftover.

“You really wanna do this right now, Eddie?”

“As good a time as any I suppose,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, finally ashing out the joint.

“S’not like it’ll help.”

“Won’t it?”

You didn’t say anything. He met your eyes, imploring them for answers. You gave him nothing.

“You still dealing?”

Your question caught him off guard, but he hid it well, scratching at his chin as he squinted into the sun and towards you.

“Yeah last time I checked.”

“I’ll come by tonight. I need to make a purchase. We can talk then.”

“I could decline your business,” he childishly pointed out, not missing the smirk on your lips. He was doing a piss poor job of proving how mature he was.

“You could,” you agreed, picking a random piece of lint off your shorts.

Again, silence stretched between you both. Another war of wills.

Eddie surrendered.

“Fine. Any time after nine.”

“Hot date?”

“Something like that,” he replied, standing and dusting off his black jeans. He stepped into the sun and into your space, seeing the apprehension in your shaded eyes. “Rates went up so bring plenty of cash, princess.”

You said nothing as he moved around you and towards his van. The splashing of water followed him all the way to the parking lot, your form still where he left you near the slide.

Fucking hell.

********************************

You fussed with your clothes, hating that you cared what Eddie Munson thought about how you looked. There had been a time when you did. When you cared about every kind of thought he had. And every word he said. You’d been devoted to him. And then life happened.

You were in your English Literature class, away at college when you realized you’d fallen in love with him. It’d hit you like a train, backing up and running over you again for good measure. It wasn’t exactly a welcomed idea. It was supposed to be a fling. A summer fling. But things had progressed quickly. Feelings had taken hold and not let go.

So you did what you did best. You cut him off. Without so much as an explanation. You felt like absolute dog shit, but what else could you do. Sure you could confess your undying love, but who’s to say he’d feel the same. As soon as you’d utter those words, things would get complicated. Whether he felt the same or not. It was more than you wanted to deal with. So you took the cowards way out.

And now, he hated you. Rightfully so. You’d done your best to feed into his dislike of you. It was for the best.

You slammed your car door shut, wincing when you realized how late it actually was. You’d procrastinated too long and by the time you finally got your nerve it was close to midnight. If you remembered correctly, his uncle would be at work. At least you’d be alone.

You walked towards the front door of his trailer, memories punching you in the gut. The thought of how this was a bad idea spinning in your head. Your doubts were interrupted by the front door opening, revealing a less than enthused Eddie.

“Trying to wake the entire neighborhood?”

You made your way up the steps, bypassing his body as you walked through the doorway. “Sorry,” you automatically replied.

His eyebrows raised in surprise at the apology, but he said nothing else. He shut the door while you took in the space. It was exactly the same. And that thought both comforted and frightened you.

“Nice of you to finally show.”

“Had some shit come up. Sorry,” you offered lamely, seeing his eyes roll in response.

“Suuuure,” he drew out. “How much do you want?”

Right down to business. Okay.

“Twenty dollars worth.”

He nodded and turned, walking down the hallway that led to his bedroom. You followed instinctively, the path all too familiar to you.

When you breached the door, your eyes took in the posters and knick-knacks that littered the space. Some were new. Most were not.

You looked around, using Eddie’s obliviousness to your advantage. He rummaged around in a locked tin, not yet sensing you in his space.

He looked better than you remembered. His fingers were calloused. Rings adorning nearly every digit. He wore a white and black baseball tee with the letters W.A.S.P. written across the front in red. His hair was longer, thicker than when you last saw him. And a few more tattoos now littered his forearms.

He looked good.

“You make it a habit of inviting yourself into people’s spaces?”

His voice startled you.

He was facing you now. A bag of weed in his hand as he leaned a hip against his desk. He was staring at you, a disapproving expression splashed across his features.

“Just with you apparently,” you threw back, your own expression mirroring his.

“Here.”

You caught the bag easily, surprised he chose to toss it at you. You really had hurt him.

You fished out the cash in your jean pocket and laid it on the desk. He took it without meeting your eyes.

“Eddie,”

“We don’t have to do this.”

You tossed the bag of weed onto the desk, tired of dancing around two years of pain.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I really am sorry for what I did to you.” His brown eyes grew wide at your admission. “You didn’t deserve that,” you added, crossing your arms across your chest.

“This is fucking stupid.”

The bite in his words made you physically take a step back. You’d never heard him so angry before.

“Wha-,”

“You think I’m still pissed about that? That I’m that pathetic to care about something from two years ago?”

“You sure as fuck seemed like it,” you retorted hotly, meeting his anger with your own.

There was that damn scoff again.

“You’ve treated me like shit every summer that I’ve come back, Eddie.”

“You deserved it.” He angled his chin up, making it appear as if he was looking down at you.

“Fuck you,” you snarled, taking a step towards him.

He straightened, crossing his arms as you approached. Unflinching in response to your outburst.

“You did that already, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes at the smirk that now decorated his lips, his eyes daring you to say something.

“And from what I remember, you begged me for it every chance you could, Munson,” you purred, leaning into him, feeling him stiffen the closer you got.

You’d hit his nerve.

“You couldn’t wait for me to tell you when and where to cum. To have me fuck you. To have you at my mercy.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes drifting shut at your explicit words.

“Stop,” he bit out between gritted teeth.

“Has anyone fucked you the way you liked me to? Has anyone done the things you asked me to do for you, baby?”

You reached out and caressed his chin. His hand was quick as it lashed out and grasped your wrist, stopping you. His eyes were black now, depthless pools of emotions. It sent a shiver up your spine.

“You don’t know shit.”

“Don’t I?” you challenged, taking a chance and bringing your free hand up to his chest.

He didn’t stop you.

The air crackled to life around you. It was tense. But more than that, there was desire between you both. Old and new.

Your hand traveled up his chest and towards his neck, feeling him swallow against your touch. His hold tightened around your wrist. Your fingers were nowhere close to encircling his neck, but that didn’t stop you from squeezing.

He moaned.

God how you’d missed that sound.

“Feel good?” you asked, lips tracing along his chin.

He nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Feels good,” he dutifully responded.

Old habits die hard.

You noted the way his fingers lifted from your wrist and you took the opening. You grasped his hand and brought it to your mouth, letting his fingertips rest on your lips. He watched, enraptured by the way you gently sucked on each tip.

The hand squeezing his neck fell down his body and landed on his belt buckle. He jerked at the movement. You tickled his lower stomach with your nails, feeling him relax and come alive beneath you.

“Let me show you just how sorry I am. Please,” you whispered, placing a gentle kiss to his middle finger.

He watched you for a long moment, his eyes darting across your face and settling on your lips. You licked them in response.

“Yes.”

That was all the encouragement you needed.

You brought his lips to yours, immediately granting his tongue access. The roles were forgotten for a moment as you reunited. Hands skimmed and tongues tasted. It was as intense as it was familiar.

You’d missed it.

Your feet made their way towards his bed, bodies never separating. He followed until the back of his knees hit the mattress. You gently pushed him, sending him backwards and landing on the edge of his bed. You gripped his shoulders, the position all too familiar as he stared up at you with longing eyes.

You reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up, shedding the material quickly. Your nipples pebbled behind the lace of your bra. He took notice, hips shifting on the bed. You continued undressing, leaving you in your black bra and panties. Eddie licked his lips. He ran his palms along his thighs, surely itching to reach out and touch you.

You stepped between his spread thighs and lowered yourself to your knees.

“May I?”

Your fingers hovered over the buckle of his jeans. He nodded eagerly.

You made quick work of the restrictive clothing, pulling his black jeans down just enough to free his throbbing cock. Your mouth filled with saliva. A desperate ache made its way between your thighs. He was already so needy for you, angling his hips up in an attempt to convince you to touch him.

“What do you want, Eddie?”

“Your mouth,” he panted, knuckles white against the crumpled sheets of his bed.

You teased him for a moment, your red nails tracing the lines and curves of his cock. A whimper escaped him as you flicked a finger over the leaking head, making him fidget.

“Don’t tease,” he gritted out, the veins in his neck straining as he pinned you with a withering glare.

You remembered that you were supposed to be working for his forgiveness and by the looks of him, Eddie was already wound tight. So you took mercy on him and leaned over his length, spitting on the heated flesh. Your hand encased him, spreading the lubricant.

“Fucking Christ…”

Your hand moved over him the way he liked, your tongue darting out to taste his tip. You fondled his sack while you slowly began to encase his cock into the warm depths of your mouth.

Saliva coated him as you licked and sucked, your hand twisting around what couldn’t fit into your mouth. His hips wriggled under you, your throat constricting as he edged himself in further. You pulled away, a line of spit still connecting you to him.

“Tell me what you want me to do for you, baby,” you breathlessly demanded, hand still pumping him.

His pupils were blown wide, the brown irises now black. His face was flushed, his chest heaving. At your prompting, he licked his lips, recognizing the role reversal. He pulsed in your hand. He liked it.

“Choke. Make yourself choke on me.”

You smiled seductively, ready to give him what he wanted. One of your bra straps fell down your shoulder as you held the base of him and readied your throat. You lowered your mouth and took him as far as you could. And then you kept going. You kept going until your throat muscles constricted and he was cursing above you. You did it again and again until tears leaked down your cheeks and your nose ran. Your lungs burned as you continuously made yourself gag.

Eddie’s hips joined in on the assault and thrust into your throat. You sputtered and coughed around him, but you didn’t back off. You didn’t stop when his hand settled onto the back of your head. And you didn’t stop when he pushed, holding you captive on his cock.

It was only after you tapped his thigh that he let up, finally letting you have air. Mascara ran down your face. Your lipstick was surely smeared. And saliva was caked to your lips and chin. But you’d never felt more beautiful. More desired than in that moment.

Eddie only afforded you a few seconds of reprieve before he was swiping a thumb across your lips, smearing the color that was left there. His gaze was glued to you as his touch drifted down and over your breasts, pulling a lace cup down to expose you. You pushed out your chest, happy to receive some attention. He fondled you, fingers tugging and pinching at your nipple. Your eyes fluttered closed, nails digging into the denim that still encased his thighs.

“Let me ride you,” you practically begged, seeing him suck in a breath. “Let me fuck you the way you like.”

He didn’t respond, but his hand gripped his cock, squeezing. You knew what that meant. He was onboard. You took the initiative and reached for his shirt, pulling it up his body. His limbs followed and threw the garment off, leaving his top half bare.

Eyes danced over the tattoos that decorated his body. You yearned to lick them, trace the delicate designs with your tongue. You doubted he’d let you.

You continued on with undressing him, finally ridding him of his pants. You stood and removed the remainder of your clothes. You squeezed your breasts in your palms, seeing him do the same with his red-tinted length. Your thighs stuck together as arousal literally leaked from your depths. You held his shoulders as you straddled him, automatically moaning at the feel of his naked flesh against yours. Every nerve felt like it was exposed as you rubbed sensuously against one another.

You reached between your bodies and aligned him with your soaked entrance, coating him in your essence. A ringed hand reached for your throat, but stopped short. There was a question in his eyes.

For as long as you and Eddie had slept together, you were usually the one in control. He liked it that way. It got you both off. Eddie was a natural submissive. It wasn’t often that he became aggressive. But you’d seen him angry before. Knew he had it in him to dominate if he chose. And his sudden need to grab you by the throat was proof of that.

That knowledge made your walls clench in delicious anticipation.

You settled your hand over his and led it back to your throat, nodding. “Do it. Please.”

He obeyed.

A ridiculously obnoxious moan rattled in your chest as he squeezed. He tested his strength against the delicate chords of your neck. You watched the way his eyes devoured his ringed hand around your throat, something he’d probably fantasized about since you’d essentially abandoned him. The twisted thought made your cunt throb. His cock twitched against your thigh.

His free hand settled into the flesh of your ass. He held you with a forceful grip, the pain melting into pleasure. He wordlessly directed your hips to slant over him as he pushed himself upwards. You barely had time to register the movement before he was slamming into you.

His sweet revenge.

You yelped, digging your nails into his forearm that still held your neck.

“Fuck!”

He eased off for only a moment before he was thrusting up again, uncaring of how tight you still were around him.

“Move, princess,” he throatily demanded.

“Shit…yeah…just give me a second,” you gasped, still acclimating to him sheathed deep inside you.

His forehead touched your chin, his nose nuzzling your neck. It was taking a lot out of him to sit there.

“No,” he said simply, ignoring your words. He placed tentative kisses to your collarbone, still feeling out his role as the aggressor. “You said you were going to ride me. So do it.”

Your thighs burned as you began to slowly rock against him. Your fingers tangled into his hair and tightened each time you took him fully in. Beads of sweat peppered your skin as the summer air filled with the heady scent of sex. Somewhere in the trailer a window unit turned on, but the cool air never reached you.

You felt every glide of him against your walls. And with each pass your speed increased. Before long, your bodies were slapping together, your breasts bouncing as he led your hips over his. You touched yourself, feeling the swell of climax build.

A rough hand shoved your fingers away from your clit and you whimpered. Instead, he led your touch further between your bodies to his sack. You felt him tense as you gently squeezed, remembering how he liked to be touched.

“Fucking fuck,” he cursed, head thrown back as you worked him over.

His lower body began to meet yours as he fucked you back. You took all that he had and awaited the inevitable. His brows creased and his neck flushed. His finger dug into your flesh as he prepared himself for the rush. Yours was cresting as fast as his. Shades of black began to seep into your vision as the sensation built…

It was gone as fast as it had arrived.

Eddie quickly pulled himself from the confines of your velvet walls and jerked himself off into your stomach. You were transfixed by the image, feeling overwhelmingly unfulfilled and desperate.

Spurts of hot cum landed on your skin as he released, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. You sat still as he floated back down from his high. You were trying hard not to grind down on his lap. He noticed your neediness and slipped two fingers knuckle deep into your cunt.

He then finger fucked you. Hard.

All you could do was hold on as he curled them against that elusive spot deep within. In no time your orgasm was building once again and you prepared yourself for the dam to break.

“I’m-I’m-,” you gasped, unable to form a cohesive thought.

He only grunted, wrist moving faster. He gave you no choice in the matter. And with that knowledge, you came.

You convulsed around his fingers as stars burst behind your eyes. A warm trickle of arousal coated his fingers all the way down to his wrist as he continued his ministrations. You reached for his arm and pulled him away, the sensitivity kicking in almost immediately.

“Too much,” you pouted, trying hard to even out your breathing.

“On the bed.”

You made a noise similar to a whine at his demand, but you moved anyway. Your legs felt like gelatin as you laid on your back, cum drying on your stomach. Eddie followed soon after, spitting into his hand and working himself back up to full hardness. Your thighs clenched and fell together, trying to dispel the painful twinge that sat there.

Seeing Eddie so riled up was having an interesting effect on your libido. Seeing him strung out and begging for your pussy was one thing. But in this moment, seeing him finding his footing as a dominant lover was just as fun. If not more.

He crawled on top of you, splitting your thighs wide as he aligned himself with you once again. You instinctively reached for his lips with your own, but he dodged you. Instead, he latched onto your nipple, sucking with a ferocity that made your back bow. His cock rutted against your still gaping slit, the head catching on your clit every so often.

“Open your eyes,” he softly demanded.

You did so and were met with his penetrating stare. You felt him press the head of his cock against you, your eyes straying closed again.

“Keep them open. Look at me, okay?”

You nodded and waited as he pushed in excruciatingly slow. Each inch slid deeper until he bottomed out, leaving you a breathless mess. His pick necklace hung in your face as he began to slide in and out of you. His arms flexed as he held himself up, his eyes watching your face closely.

You reached for him and he let you drag him down as your nails dug into his shoulders. His hips still moved against yours, sloppily filling you. He placed a chaste kiss to your cheek and you could feel his warm breath hit your ear as he spoke.

“I’m still mad at you, sweetheart.”

You vaguely registered his words through the thick fog of pleasure that clouded your mind. You could feel his lips moving against your earlobe as he continued on. Continued to fuck you. Continued to taunt you.

“Fuck you. Fuck you for what you did. And fuck you for coming back here.”

His hips grew more aggressive with each word, thrusting into you with a brute force you’d never experienced from him before. Your breath caught in your throat when he bit at the flesh of your neck none too gently.

“Eddie,” you moaned, asking for so many things with that one utterance.

It had no effect.

The bed springs jolted alive as he fucked in a way that only Eddie Munson could. He drove his hips almost painfully into yours, but his lips continued to gently ghost across your neck and face. He burrowed into the flesh of your breasts, seeking solace at the same time he was punishing you.

It all came to a head when he strummed harshly at your swollen clit. Your toes curled and your back arched as an undercurrent of ecstasy pulled you under. The world around you ceased to exist as lights went off around you. It was almost too powerful. Almost too much.

Eddie’s eyes flickered between your blissed out expression and where he still continued to fuck you. He kept going until your pussy had stopped convulsing, and then he was pulling out and cumming all over your thighs and cunt.

You felt boneless as more of his cum joined the rest drying on your stomach. He collapsed next to you, out of breath and flush from the multiple orgasms. You eyed the ceiling as you both fought to stabilize your heart rates. Nothing was said. And soon tension of a different kind filled the air.

“Did you mean it?” you ventured to ask.

Eddie sighed, forearm thrown over his eyes. “Which part?”

“You know which part, Eddie.”

After a long moment he answered.

“Yeah.”

He sounded dejected. He took no pleasure in hurting you. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

“M’sorry,” you whispered, suddenly feeling too exposed.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” you insisted, sitting up and facing him. He still had his arms thrown over his face, avoiding your gaze. You reached over and moved it, seeing his black eyes shift to that warm brown you loved so much. “You deserved better. I got scared and instead of talking to you I acted like you didn’t exist.”

His brows furrowed in question as he lifted himself onto his elbows. “Scared? Of what? Me?”

You shook your head. “No, not necessarily.” You looked down at the comforter on his bed, fiddling with a random piece of string. You hadn’t come here to confess your feelings, but he presented the perfect opportunity for you to explain yourself. Better late than never you supposed.

“Did I do something?”

The fear in his voice made you stiffen. Your silence was only making things worse.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your confession sat in the air for a long time, neither of you jumping at the chance to reach for it. You watched him closely, seeing his eyes flutter to everything around you except you. The silence was stifling.

“It’s such a bullshit thing to say, right? After everything. But it’s the truth. I fell in love with you. And I got scared. I was too scared to tell you and too scared to find out that you didn’t feel the same. Or that you did.”

He inhaled slowly, seemingly taking in your words.

“And I know that’s not an excuse, but I hope…,” you paused, unsure of what you wanted to say.

“You hope?”

“I hope you can forgive me, I guess.”

Again the silence stretched on and you took that as your cue. You got up and gathered your clothes, using your underwear to clean the mess that still stuck to you. You hastily dressed, tears pooling in your eyes as Eddie still sat naked and dazed on his bed.

You left the money and weed behind, not bothering to look back as you walked out of his room and into the heat of the night. You cried the whole way home, understanding Eddie’s reaction but hating it nonetheless.

It was a fitful night of sleep for you. Over the next few days you caught yourself eyeing the park behind the pool as you sat on your perch. You tried hard to let the past go. It was done. He didn’t want you. Not after everything. And you had to respect that.

“Hey! Billy’s MIA again. Get the freak outta the park before the parents get all pissed.”

You rolled your eyes at Lisa’s orders, wishing the bitch would do her own dirty work for once. You were too caught up in being annoyed with her that you didn’t register what she’d said until you were down the ladder and looking towards the park. There on the merry-go-round was Eddie Munson. And he was looking at you.

You gulped nervously as you made your way out of the fenced pool and towards the abandoned play area. You willed the anxiety bubbling in your chest to calm. You were expecting the worst. Yelling, cursing, and hateful glares. But as you approached you saw none of that.

Eddie smiled when he saw you and beckoned for you to join him on the empty space beside him. He’d set his vest down so that the hot yellow metal didn’t burn you. You fidgeted as you sat down, waiting for him to do something.

“I thought a lot about what you said,” he began, not looking at you. “In a lot of ways it made sense. Doesn’t make it any less shitty.”

You swallowed, ready for the onslaught of anger that was sure to come.

“I’m most definitely in love with you too,” he admitted with a helpless expression, playing with the hole in his jeans that sat right over his knee. “Like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Eddie.”

“Oh, I’m not? Because surely only an idiot would go after the girl that first rejected him. In love or not.”

You closed your mouth, thinking better of interrupting him.

“But here I am. Coming back for more.”

He finally met your eyes. He didn’t look happy about the fact that he shared your feelings, but underneath you could see the love he held for you. It was there. Perhaps it had always been there.

“You love me?”

“Only a little bit,” he retorted dryly, his lips pulling into a smirk when you laughed.

“So what does this mean?”

He sighed and fiddled with the rings on his hands. “Whatever you want it to, sweetheart. Because unlike last time, I’m not going to chase you.”

The brutal honesty hurt, but you respected it. And you smiled. Wide and beaming because you wanted him and he wanted you. And this time you weren’t going to let your insecurities scare off the best thing you’d ever had.

“So let me chase you then,” you offered. He gave you a quizzical look. “Let me take you out. Tonight.”

He tried hard not to smile. He cleared his throat and nodded, “Sure, okay. Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Then it’s a date.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things

[raysofcrosby]

christmases when you were mine, fade into new years day – m. tkachuk

warnings: mentions of sex – fingering, language, basically 18+, angst, the word panties [bc again, it needs a warning since it's cringeworthy]. mentions of blood, slightly less of an asshole!matt seeking redemption, italics signify flashbacks! there's also a small ode to one of my all-time fav movies love and basketball in this part 👀

requested: yes | no

inspiration: part three to baby, it's cold outside. otherwise known as the aftermath of the one-night stand, the confrontation and happily ever after...maybe.

word count: 36,381 of once again, pure unedited material [bc i truly just have no self-control and obsess over the details of every little thing it seems...so ya, i stay getting carried away]

an: yes we're in april and yes this three-part series is sticking with the christmas song title theme. the titles are partially based off the songs christmases when you were mine and new years day, both by taylor swift! this is the final part in the series, and sorry for taking so long but now it's finally being posted!! enjoy!

| part one • part two |

“Are you going to tell me what happened last night or what?”

It was the question you’ve been avoiding from the moment Taryn first asked it to you when you both walked through the sliding glass doors of Matt’s apartment complex and out into the cold winter air to get into your waiting uber. There were a million other things you’d rather talk about in the uber with Taryn, Emma and Brady on the way to the airport, and none of them were about your night, Matt or your night with Matt.

When the four of you got through airport security, Emma hung around until it was time for her to catch her plane home, and then it was just the three of you sitting at the gate and waiting to get onto the plane that would eventually take you back to St. Louis for the holidays. And thanks to you and Taryn buying your tickets together over the phone, you two were sitting right next to each other, while Brady was stuck in the aisle next to you, conveniently in the aisle seat. And despite all of the traffic of people trying to board after the three of you and get to their seats, it didn’t stop Brady from consistently leaning forward or backward, whichever put him in your sight and asking–

“So are you going to tell us about your naked night with our brother or what? We already know you guys had sex, so just tell us what happened and we’ll drop it.”

It was dropped anyway thanks to the strange looks received by the elderly couple who stopped just short of your row, waiting for Brady to get up from his aisle seat so they could take their seats beside him. The entire flight home, Brady was trying to get your attention to ask what happened, Taryn had gotten the picture and hadn’t asked again and you ignored them both by putting on your Airpods and listening to your perfectly curated playlist for moments like these.

The ones when your feelings were already hurt and you wanted to hurt them more.

At least until your phone kept spazzing out whenever a new song would play. It somehow gained a charge from Taryn’s charger in the airport while you were waiting to board your plane, but not by much. Maybe 50%. So the last hour of the flight, you’d stopped listening to music altogether and just sat in silence. By the time you landed in St. Louis and made it through Customs, you’d already replayed your whole night and the entire confrontation with Matt this morning in your head as many times as it took to take up the nearly three and a half hour flight it took for you to get back into St. Louis. It was like your own form of self torture, picturing him say the words “one night stand” over and over, as if your brain were trying so hard to engrave it in your heart so you wouldn’t dare look at any of the soft moments between you both the night before and try to find some deeper meaning in them. It was your own form of self-protection that didn’t really work all that well, because by the time your guys uber pulled up in front of the Tkachuk family home, you were already missing the stupid curly headed Tkachuk brother who basically broke your heart without a single care in his stupid NHL player world.

You had made plans for Taryn to come over to your house to spend the night after she showered off the flight, so Brady was the one who offered to walk you home, despite your house being across the street, because it was dark outside and ice was on the sidewalks, a discovery made when he almost slipped getting out of the uber to drop his stuff off on his front steps.

No matter how much you insisted that he didn’t have to do that, that he could just stand on his own front porch and look across the street to make sure you got into your own house safe, he still walked you over. Because he was Brady and he’s always been like that since the two of you became friends, like he was your built in protector while also being your best friend. He was also the number one nuisance in your life besides his older brother, but that just came with the territory. Because in the end, besides Taryn, Brady was the person you could talk to about relationships and sex, unless he pawned you off onto Emma and Taryn– then he wasn’t.

“Okay, so maybe I went about it wrong on the plane, but really what happened last night with Matt because normally you’re asleep on the plane before we take off, but this flight you were all quiet and mopey and pretending to listen to music when I know for a fact you weren’t listening to anything.” He said, leaning against the wall of your house, just beside your front door.

“Brady, I really don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed, digging your house key out from your purse. “Just tell Taryn I’m ordering pizza and I’ve got drinks.”

When you went to unlock the door, Brady grabbed your lanyard from your hand, gaining your attention. “Seriously, y/n. Do I need to kick his ass or what? Because yeah, he’s my older brother and my parents preach family above all else, but I’m not opposed to beating him up if he hurt you. I’m bigger than him now, I can win a fight.”

“Brady, give me my keys.”

“Come on, just tell me!” Brady replied, spinning the keyring around his finger as he squinted his eyes. “Did he hurt you? Did he say something stupid? He does that a lot. Did he force you into anything?”

“Jesus Brady, no,” you huffed, reaching for your keys, Brady playing keep away by holding them up higher than you could reach. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone so I can shower and stuff my face with pizza in peace?”

Brady lolled his head side to side, then nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

You took another deep breath and exhaled, turning towards him fully. “He brushed me off, okay?”

“Brushed…you off?” Brady echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that some new code for sex or–”

“No, it means your brother basically said ‘thanks for the drunk sex, it was fun and it’s never hapening again,’ and then sent me on my way.”

“Come on, there’s no way,” Brady laughed, shaking his head. “Matt wouldn’t.”

“You want the rundown, Brady? Fine,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I asked if we should talk about what happened last night and he basically brushed me off and said ‘we had sex, we had fun, it happened and now it’s over, what’s there to say?’ And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he was the one who called it a one night stand–”

“What?” Brady asked, sounding surprised. “No way, he wouldn’t.”

“I’d say he was pretty insistent.” You shifted your feet, clearing your throat as you hugged your arms closer to you. “In fact, I’m pretty sure his exact words were that we’re ‘just two drunk friends who got a little carried away and crossed the line a few times’–”

“Ew…” He mumbled under his breath, shaking the thought out of his head.

“Do you want to know or not, Brady?” You huffed, looking at him.

“Sorry, yeah, sorry,” he replied, shaking his head. “But I mean…maybe he just didn’t know what to say, y/n? You guys have been friends for 20 years. Maybe you can just sit down with him and talk about it when he comes home? That he didn’t mean it–”

“‘There’s no way this can become a thing. Besides, you’re home in St. Louis and I’m here nine, ten months out of the year.’ ‘It’s never happening again,’” You said, your throat tightening as you could easily hear Matt’s own voice telling you the exact words hours earlier. “I’m pretty sure he meant it, Brady. Like I said, he was insistent.”

Brady just stared at you, most likely still trying to figure out what to say that could counteract your argument. But instead, he just grabbed your suitcase and started walking down your front porch steps. “Come on.”

“Brady–”

“Nope,” he turned around, nodding his head towards their house. “Matt was a dick and as your supportive best friend, the last thing I’m going to do is let you sleep alone in your house so you can wallow in your feelings.”

You opened your mouth to protest, only for Brady to shake his head. “And before you say your parents will be home, they won’t. Because mom told us in a group chat earlier that they were still out of town cause of the weather and to offer you a place to stay if you didn’t want to stay alone. So I’m making the executive decision and you’re staying over. We can still order pizza and you and Taryn can ignore me if you want, but you’re staying at our house, get over it.”

“I hate you,” you sighed, carefully walking down your front porch steps and coming up beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, I hate you too.” He replied, the two of you walking back across the street and making your way to their house. “But also if you’re going to girl talk with Taryn about last night, please make sure I’m not in the room when you get into the whole…details thing. It’s already bad enough I have picture evidence of an empty condom box on the floor and then hearing you said you guys did it multiple times. I don’t need any more knowledge of you two sleeping together.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you shook your head, the two of you coming to a stop on the Tkachuk’s front porch. “That box was already empty. We didn’t use condoms.”

“Ah, no,” he groaned, waving you off as he visibly cringed. “God, that's exactly what I don’t need to know. Gross. Just–” he opened the front door and motioned for you to walk in. “Get inside and go shower or something. I’ll order the pizza and make us drinks. I have a feeling I’ll already be a drink or two ahead of you guys thanks to that new piece of information.”

“Coming from the guy who sent me a text the moment he lost his virginity?” You laughed, walking into the house. “Got it.”

“That was a monumental time in my life that didn’t involve anyone you were close to.” He replied, closing the front door. “But you did the same, so just go upstairs and shower, you smell.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your suitcase and starting to tug it up the stairs. “Hey y/n?” Brady called out, gaining your attention as you looked back towards the end of the stairs where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

Brady took a deep breath and exhaled, patting his hand on the end of the stairwell before shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Brady.”

He frowned. “Yeah, but I know how much you like him, even after…everything.”

You nodded. “Yeah,” taking a deep breath, you exhaled heavily and shrugged, putting a small smile on your face. “But it’s alright Brae. I’m sure I’ll get over it. He wouldn’t be the first dumb jock to break my heart.”

Brady sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Come on, y/n. How many times do I have to apologize for that? If I would’ve known you were able to fly up for prom I wouldn't have asked that other girl.”

You laughed, Brady pointing at you with a smile, knowing he got you to break. He also knew that he wasn’t the dumb jock you were referring to, yet he was still willing to take the spot so you didn’t have to think about your one and only ex. That and many other reasons, was always why Brady was going to be your favorite Tkachuk brother.

“I’ll be back down,” you replied, turning back around.

“Love you, y/n.” He laughed, walking away from the end of the stairs.

“Love you, Brae,” you replied, tugging your suitcase up the stairs, making your way down the hall towards Taryn’s room.

The moment you passed Matt’s room, you hadn’t expected your heart to race or a knot in your throat to form. You hadn’t even looked at the door, simply keeping your attention away from it, but he still had an affect on you even after the last three hours you’ve spent trying to convince yourself that he didn’t deserve any more of your time. That what he said and how easily he was able to brush you and your night together off, should’ve been the final nail in the coffin. But it wasn’t. Because somehow and maybe it was the universe playing a really cruel trick on you, there was no way you could cast him out of your heart as easily as he cast you out of his apartment this morning.

And that really, really sucked.

“Oh perfect you’re here,” Taryn huffed, walking out of her room freshly showered and in sweats and a sweatshirt, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room, shutting the door behind you before turning around. “What the hell happened after you and Matt left the bar? When did you even leave? One second you say you’re going to the bathroom and then the next thing I know you’re both MIA?”

“Taryn,” you sighed, putting your suitcase down and taking your backpack off of your shoulders, putting it down onto her bed. “I just want to take a shower, have a drink and eat some greasy pizza…can we do that please?”

“If I get Brady to leave us alone will you tell me?” She asked, walking into her bathroom and opening the linen closet, grabbing you a towel before walking back into the room. “Because no offense y/n, but you look like hell and you smell like my brother. I can do the bad friend thing and just assume you’re hungover, but I’m a pretty good friend so I’m going to do the exact opposite.”

“Like I told Brady, there’s just…not that much to say. But if it’ll make you drop it for the rest of our lives, then sure.” You just shook your head, walking over and taking the towel from her. “But only after my shower.”

“I’ll be downstairs, you know where everything is.” She said, leaving her room.

You grabbed your phone and plugged it into the charger she had on her desk, hoping you’d be able to get some charge into it and knowing tomorrow you’d probably end up going to AT&T and getting a new phone. Trying to send a message to your mom letting her know you’d landed safely and were staying at the Tkachuk’s tonight, your phone screen glitched and you ended up pressing on your messages with Matt instead.

Four pictures gracing your screen. The first was from him, a picture of the two of you beside each other at the bar smiling at whoever was taking your picture, though it was probably Taryn. The second was a selfie, the two of you closer than before with you standing in front of him and your pack pressed to his chest his right arm was draped over your shoulder and resting across your chest, your own hands holding onto his arm. The third and forth pictures were selfies that you had sent to him. It was you and Matt again, you could see Jacob and Rasmus in the background photobombing the two of you. Matt was standing behind you, both of his arms wrapped around your waist. The third picture was Matt’s head turned towards you, his lips against your cheek and the fourth was probably taken immediately after that photo because it was you turned towards him. Matt not having moved from his spot and you smiling up at him, most likely in the middle of saying something and him just smiling down at you with his signature closed lipped smile and dimple on display and the tips of your noses touching.

You both were easily three or four drinks in and the drinks themselves in your hands, because you knew for a fact you wouldn’t have cozied up to him like this if you didn’t have a little bit of liquid courage, though the smile on your face was throwing you under the bus revealing you wouldn’t have want to been anywhere else– but, and if this morning hadn’t happened, you might’ve thought that his smile and the way he had his own head leaning against yours would’ve been the evidence that you were more than just another girl to find her way into Matthew Tkachuk’s bed for the night.

But it didn’t really matter all that much now, did it?

You were out of the Tkachuk’s house the moment you heard Brady get up from one of the couches in their basement to get dressed and hop onto the Peloton to do a workout. The three of you had slept in the basement, enjoying beers and pizza and you had told them all about what happened with Matt that morning. While the details of just how you got to the point of you and Matt leaving the bar together were hazy, the night you spent with him was not. And you spared the two younger siblings the details of just how your night with their older brother was spent, you weren’t too shy to tell them the softer moments of the night, more towards the end, but you spent the most detail on reliving that morning.

Brady and Taryn all but refused to step foot in Matt’s apartment unless he got it professionally cleaned and you knew they were trying their best to make light of the situation's aftermath, which you appreciated. But you appreciated it more when the moment they made that joke, all conversations of Matt ceased to exist and you went on with your night.

When you got home, you immediately put yourself to work. You did your laundry, you wrapped the presents you’d bought your parents in Calgary up and put them beneath the tree. You cleaned your room, you cleaned the already cleaned living room and by the time that you were tired of cleaning you’d taken another shower and plopped back down onto your bed, it was only noon and you felt like you were losing your mind. You reached over to your bedside table and grabbed your macbook, opening it and logging in before opening your messages with Taryn.

Y/n: Any chance you’d be up to coming over and having a girls night tonight? 🥺

Tar 🥳 : Are you kidding? Hell yeah.

Tar 🥳: I’ll be right over!

Y/n: Ugh I love you. Door’s unlocked so just come upstairs to my room!

Ready to click out, your eyes stopped on the message from Matt that was unread. Your phone was pretty much dead, dying the moment after you were able to send off your snap streaks earlier this morning and you hadn’t opened your macbook at all until now, so this was the first time you were ever seeing the message.

“Ignore it,” you mumbled, moving your cursor towards the x of the window. “You don’t need to see what it says, it’s probably something stupid.” Your eyes moved away from the blue unread dot and then drifted back over. “Or maybe you forgot something important and he’s letting you know so you don’t freak out later…”

Matt 🐭: Brady and Taryn said you guys made it home safely, I’m glad to hear.

Matt 🐭: I know you said you have plans tomorrow, but if those happen to fall out…I’ll be home around noon and maybe we can hang? If not, I’ll see you Christmas Eve. Goodnight, y/n.

While you originally lied about having plans, just so you wouldn’t have to sit and suffer a conversation with Matt after basically being embarrassed at that moment in time, it turns out that now, you did have plans– with Taryn. But the texts that you got weren’t really the texts that you wanted. Maybe it was better than him telling you that you forgot something in his apartment, and maybe this ‘hang out’ was something where he had intentions of apologizing. Though you also wouldn’t put it past him to use the hang out to make sure he got his original message across that the two of you were going to be just friends and that what happened between you guys wouldn’t transfer over to the Tkachuk’s Christmas Eve party or even your Christmas dinner tradition at their house.

“Okay, I’m here!” Taryn called out, the alarm system beeping twice signaling that she closed the front door. “And thank God you reached out because Brady just got home picking Matt up from the airport and I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted without giving him the stink eye.” Taryn walked into your room, seeing you on your bed. “What’s up?”

“Matt texted me last night and I just read them.”

“Did he apologize for being a dick?” She asked, walking around your bed and standing next to you, bending down and reading the messages on the screen. Then, she closed your macbook and put it back on your bedside table. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked as she tugged you up by your wrist.

“The least, like literally the very least he could’ve done was apologize. So first we’re going to see what we can do about your phone. And then after that, we’re going shopping because you’re showing up to our party tomorrow looking hot and my idiot brother is going to regret ever turning you into one of his hookups.”

You exhaled heavily, dragging your own feet as she dragged you down the stairs. “Taryn I–”

“No buts,” she grabbed your car keys off of the hook on the wall and tossed them to you. “Now come on, girls night starts now and we’re going to transform you into the life of the party tomorrow. Trent’s going to be there, you know. Maybe you guys can rekindle whatever it was you had.”

“I am not using Trent to get back at your brother,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as you both walked out of your front door.

Taryn smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged her jacket closer to her. “I didn’t say anything about using Trent. Your mind went there with no guidance.”

You laughed, waving her off as you locked your front door and caught up to her to run to your already running car. “Just get in the car, loser.”

“I believe the correct line is, get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Taryn smiled, standing by the passenger door as you walked around the front of the car. “Now let operation Deck his halls so he doesn’t know what hit him, commence.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you unlocked the car, opening your own door. “Just get in.”

“Why isn’t she here yet?” Matt asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping his beer slowly as Brady snacked on the cheese from one of the many charcuterie boards their mom had made for the party.

“Maybe she lost track of time getting ready?” Brady shrugged, looking at the different rolled meats before settling on a piece of salami.

“Her parents are here. She always arrives with her parents.” Matt huffed, taking a longer sip of his beer before leaning both arms against the counter. “You’re her best friend, you have to know something.”

“I’ve also been around you pretty much 24/7. How can I know something when she’s been with Taryn the whole time?” Brady replied, rolling his eyes and picking up another piece of salami. “You’re bothering the wrong sibling, dude.”

After his nap yesterday, he met up with Brady downstairs and the two of them talked about what Matt could do to both apologize to you for how your last morning in Calgary went and confess that not only was what happened between you two not just another one night stand to him, but also his feelings for you that he’s held for years. The best they could come up with is that sometime during the party, Brady would ask you if you could go down into the basement to grab more champagne, claiming that he was already helping their mom with something. And when you went down into the basement to grab the champagne that wasn’t needed, Matt would wait a few seconds before following you and hopefully the two of you could talk.

Basically, and since it really had come down to this– he was going to have to corner you for you to even bother listening to a single word he had to say. Not really the most ingenious plan, but it was going to have to work.

“Taryn! Perfect, just who I wanted to see,” Matt said, standing up from the counter and turning towards his younger sister who looked confused at his excitement.

“Why? What do you want?”

“He wants to know why y/n isn’t here yet,” Brady mumbled through his bites of a cracker, going to pick up another one.

“Stop eating all the food,” Taryn said, smacking his hand away before leaning across the counter and picking up the board he was eating off of. “Mom sent you in here to get two of the boards, not eat them.”

“Whatever,” Brady replied, picking up a roll of ham off of the new board before picking it up and walking out from around the counter and patting Matt on the shoulder. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“You’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes as Brady walked by, nudging her slightly. She looked back at Matt and sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “Last thing I knew, she texted me saying she was doing her make-up. That was maybe five minutes ago? So she’s probably almost done and will be here soon.”

“Texted you?”

“Yeah, still on the macbook. We tried to get her a new phone yesterday, but she still has like a year left on her plan and it’d cost a lot to replace,” Taryn replied, turning around to walk out of the kitchen. “But you can always go over and grab her. I’m sure she’s just lost track of time.”

Matt nodded, following her out into the living room and atrium where a majority of the partygoers were mingling. He did his best to make his way towards the Christmas tree, walking around on the side to grab one of your Christmas gifts from beneath the tree and politely smiled at every person he passed on his way to the front door. Once he made it outside of his house without getting stopped, he exhaled and quickly made his way across the street to yours.

Without even attempting to open your front door, he stopped just in front of the steps and picked up the fourth flower pot on his right, knowing that’s where your parents kept the spare key. Putting the flower pot back down, he walked up the steps and to your front door, using the key to unlock it and open it. As he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him, he contemplated calling out to you, but decided against it and just made his way up the stairs to where your room was.

Your bedroom door was open and he slowly walked down the hallway, carefully stepping in front of the doorway to see you sitting at your vanity. He stepped forward and knocked on the door, hoping that he wouldn’t scare you.

“Yeah?” You asked, applying mascara.

“Hey, uh…it’s me,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I can see that,” you replied, applying mascara to your other eye. “What’s up? Is the party canceled or something?”

“No, um,” he cleared his throat as he walked into your room.“Everyone’s pretty much there and I noticed that uh…well you weren’t and Taryn said you might still be over here. So I figured I’d come get you.”

He felt nervous standing there in your room. He could see that he was now in view of your vanity mirror, but the entire time you’d had your back turned to him. He figured you’d be mad at him, especially with how Brady had confronted him yesterday about what went down with you two and how now he knew the reason why you’d been so short and cold with him the last two years.

And that only made him more nervous.

"Thanks I guess,” You replied, barely looking at him through your mirror as you reapplied your powdered foundation. “What's that?"

"It's your Christmas present...well one of them," he said, holding out the small red gift bag complimented with white tissue paper. "Do you want to open it now?"

"Secret Santa isn't until after dinner, you know that," you said, getting up from your vanity and walking right by him towards your dresser, looking at the jewelry tower right on top in search for a pair of earrings.

He couldn’t help but stare as you looked for a pair of earrings to wear, the words he wanted to say next were stuck in his throat. You looked good. Your hair was half-up, half-down, the side pieces pulled out of your face. Your make-up was almost effortlessly pretty, and if it wasn’t for the darker smokey eyeshadow and the winged liner on your eyes, he never would have guessed you were even wearing make-up. Not that he was all knowledgeable on what you had in your closet, but he was almost positive that the deep red sequin dress you were wearing was new. It came to and in the middle of your thighs, long puffed sleeves that cuffed at your wrists and had a near identical plunging neckline similar to the bodysuit you’d worn that night in the bar. And his $25 must have gone to good use considering it’d only been a day since he’d seen the marks he’d left behind and your skin looked like it’d never been touched.

"This isn't a Secret Santa gift," he replied, shaking his head as he walked towards you. "I got Trent for Secret Santa this year. I could find out who has you if you want–"

You turned around, shaking your head as you walked back towards your vanity, putting your earrings in. "That defeats the point of Secret Santa, Matthew. The fun's all in not knowing who bought you your gift until the end."

"Yeah...I guess you're right," he sighed, letting his arm return back to his side.

He saw you sneak a look at him through your vanity, watching as he looked around your room, chewing on the inside of his cheek and trying to come up with something to dissolve the very obvious tension. "You don't have to wait–"

"Do you remember that year when we got each other for Secret Santa?" He asked, walking over to your desk, looking at the shelving above it. "I think it was what...my eighth-grade year, your sixth-grade year?"

"Freshman and seventh," you replied, looking away from him and leaning towards your mirror, touching up your mascara.

"That's right," he smiled, nodding as he laughed softly. He could easily picture you all dressed up in your matching ugly Christmas sweaters with Brady like you had every year, though that year was the first year you opted not to wear Christmas sweaters. Instead, you’d worn a dress he’d seen you wear before, your hair was all wavy like how Taryn’s always get whenever she slept in with her hair in braids overnight and it was the first time he’d ever seen you wear lipstick, and it’d made your braces stick out more…but you still looked pretty.

But 15 year old Matt wasn’t going to tell you that.

"You were so excited and almost ruined it for those two weeks leading up to Christmas. The only reason how I knew it was you was because you had this really big smile on your face when I opened it. You had made me this little Patriots gift basket with a whole bunch of Pats and Tom Brady stuff."

"I used all of my allowance on that stuff too," you replied, putting down your mascara and picking up your lipstick. "It took me a week to put it all together."

"Well, I loved it," he said, looking at you. "I mean, I may have been too cool to show it 'cause I was 15...but I loved it a lot." He turned back towards your desk, looking amongst all the books and knick-knacks you had on the shelves before pulling one out. "And I got you that book clip on night light because your Mom was always getting mad at you for trying to read in the dark and you never wanted to get in trouble for turning your light on after bed. And this...a ticket stub diary, because you always were keeping your movie tickets and sports tickets and then I've always wondered if you filled it out yet..."

You paused with the tissue in your hands, and for a moment it looked like you were going to turn around, but instead you kept your back to him and in the mirror even he could tell that the retelling of the memory even had you wondering how he remembered that about you, before shaking your head subtly in reply. "I have a baggie of stubs in the cabinet," you said, blotting your red lips. "Haven't updated it in the last two years."

"Oh," he nodded, still flipping through the pages until he reached the end...where there were still a handful of pages left. "Maybe you could go through it and fill it out. I could help if you want–"

"That's okay, I'll do it later. I'm sure I'll need something to do on New Year's Eve," you replied, putting your lipstick into your small clutch before moving away from your vanity. "If you're done going down memory lane, I'm ready to leave now."

"Oh, yeah uh..." he struggled to put the book back where it belonged and walked away from your desk, holding the gift bag up. "So where do you want me to put this?"

"Under your guys' tree or wherever, since we come over to your place for dinner. It doesn't matter Matthew," you replied, walking by him and out of your room, your fingers on the light switch. "Come on, I'm already running a little late."

Suddenly he felt like was back in his apartment watching you fake a smile in the elevator before you left for good, only this time you were right in front of him and the both of you were going to the same place– his house for his parent’s Christmas Eve party.

“Hey, so I was um,” he paused once you turned the lights off after he left your room, walking by him and heading towards the stairs. “Do you think maybe we could talk?”

“We’re late to the party, Matthew,” you said, not bothering to stop as you walked down the stairs. “I mean, isn’t that why you came over? Because I was late?”

He opened his mouth to speak as you held the front door open for him to walk through. He considered reaching down for the doorknob and closing the front door, but there was still plenty of party left and he’d rather have your conversation go bad in the middle of the party or towards the end, not the beginning where he’d just know someone would be able to pick up on it. Instead, he just nodded and walked through the front door.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you replied, following him out of the front door and locking it behind you.

Matt nodded and walked down the front steps first, offering you his hand to take in the event that you slipped in your shoes– some small strappy nude heels– and when you looked at him he could see the hesitance in your eyes to accept the small gesture, and with each passing second he started to feel nauseous, realizing just how bad he might have screwed up with you. But then…you placed your hand on his and held it, stepping down the front steps and then immediately letting go.

“Come on, don’t want to be any more late than we already are.” You replied, looking away from him and starting to make your way towards his house.

Okay…so some small progress. But still, he was more than positive that he’d need Brady’s plan if he was expecting to get anywhere with you.

He quickly caught up to you and then brought out his phone, opening his messages with Brady.

Matt: Okay my first attempt failed horribly.

Matt: I’m definitely going to need to pull that champagne plan sometime tonight.

Bro with the flow: Got it! 👍🏻

Clearly whatever small moment that you guys had shared when Matt helped you not slip down your front porch steps, was very much a thing of the past because you’ve both been at the party for almost an hour and you’ve done absolutely everything in your power to avoid him, being around him or even being within ten feet of him. Even if you weren’t doing it on purpose, which he was about 90% positive that you were, it just always happened that way.

You’d talked to Brady, Taryn, his parents, literally everyone at the party except for him. And if you were even the least bit upset about the morning after, it wasn’t showing. You were laughing and smiling with anyone you came in contact with, but the very one small slither of hope that he had, and maybe it was a little bit wrong of him to be happy about, was the fact that he recognized the smile on your face throughout the night as the very same one you had one your face as the elevator doors closed. It never reached your eyes, which told him that maybe you weren’t having as much fun as you were acting like you were.

Tossing the bottle cap from his beer off into the glass jar their dad had as a sort of cap collector, Matt took a sip of his fourth beer of the night and started to make his way back into the living room, Brady saying goodbye to Mr. Morrison, one of their Dad’s golfing buddies. Matt immediately walked over, nudging his elbow.

“Can you do it now?”

“Now?” Brady asked, shaking his head. “No, because you’ve got at least another twenty minutes before a champagne refill is actually believable.”

Matt huffed, rolling his eyes as he took another sip, as his eyes found you talking to Taryn, Trent and Maylee, a mutual friend of yours and Taryn’s that you met working kids sports camps at the country club and Taryn played field hockey with. “Come on–”

“Relax dude, there’s plenty of party left.” Brady replied, patting his shoulder.

“She’s avoided me since we got here.”

“No she hasn’t,” Brady laughed, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Anytime I get within like five feet of her, she moves, dude.” Matt replied, motioning towards where you were standing. “I mean, look, she’s got no problem being social with Taryn, Maylee and Trent.”

Brady’s gaze followed over to where you were now laughing at something someone in the group must have said, maybe Trent because all three of the girls' eyes were on him. And it built a knot of jealousy in his stomach when he saw just how genuine this laugh was– the first one of the night it seemed.

He sighed, shaking his head and looking at Brady. “Did I really fuck up that bad?”

“Remember how I said she doesn’t do one-night stands?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, because that fact would make her ignoring you tonight make sense if she’s still a little bitter about what you said considering you’re only the third guy she’s slept with.” Brady stared at the group for a few moments longer before taking a sip of his beer, squinting his eyes and then shaking his head as he looked back at Matt. “Actually no, you’re only the second. Her and Trent never hooked up, only went on a few dates and made out a few times.”

“Trent?!” Matt froze, staring at his brother before looking over back to the group where you were standing next to Trent. He wasn’t bothered by it before, but had you always been standing that close to him? Were you smiling at him like that? Like the way you smiled in the pictures from the bar of just the two of you. “Trent Frederic?”

“Uh yeah, same one,” Brady replied, giving him a confused look before nodding over at the group. “They talked like two summers ago, maybe last summer too?”

“That’s gross,” Matt mumbled, taking a longer sip of his beer this time as he finally looked away from your group. “Trent’s a muppet straight out of Sesame Street.”

Brady snorted, bringing his beer up to his mouth as he nodded sarcastically. “Someone’s jealous.”

Matt shoved him, almost making Brady spill his beer as he walked by him. “Just do your stupid champagne plan now.”

“You weren’t calling it stupid last night when I came up with it!” Brady spoke, rolling his eyes as Matt continued to walk away and down the hallway to the bathroom.

Maybe he looked like he didn’t want to be bothered or maybe he looked like he was a man on a mission and that’s why everyone he walked by on his way to the bathroom didn’t bother to stop and talk to him, but he didn’t care. Instead, he was focused on getting to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face and then hopefully, be ready to talk to you if Brady listened to him to start the champagne plan.

He had no reason to be even the slightest bit uncomfortable or upset with the fact that you and Trent were most likely a summer thing the last two summers. After what you thought you’d heard that last team party, he didn't in the least, blame you for shutting him out of your day to day or general life updates as much as you had. Still, Brady was right…he was jealous that out of all of the people you all were mutually friends with, it was Trent who was the one who got to take you out on dates, hold your hand, even kiss you. Yeah sure Matt now had the title of being the second guy you’d ever hooked up with, but he didn’t much care about that. He’d rather have had it been him in Trent’s shoes– he being the one who took you out on dates in the summer just to sneak you back home late at night or fall asleep with you down in the basement of his home, only to come upstairs in the morning for breakfast and be greeted by his parents with the all to knowing smiles because maybe they’d seen this coming for years.

He’d rather have had your first time together been after a few dates, not a rash drunken push together orchestrated by his brother and sister. Where he would’ve been able to kiss you a few times before you slept together. You in the front seat of his car, his hand on your thigh driving who knows where as you both sang along to a song playing from one of your guys’ phones– though you’d be more laughing at him than singing, because he wasn’t necessarily the best singer, but for you he’d try and even if it failed, it still meant he got to see you smile.

Matt leaned over the bathroom sink and splashed some cold water on his face, filling his cupped hands with water and then bringing them back to his face again, letting himself cool off and calm down before standing up and grabbing one of the towels hanging up to dry off. He took a deep breath and exhaled, leaving the bathroom and walking down the hall, hoping he’d be able to find Brady and tell him again to get you to go grab more champagne.

“Matthew, your Dad said you were wandering around somewhere,” Mr. Rolling, another one of his dad’s golfing buddies said, stopping him as he barely got out of the hallway. “I’ve been watching your games this season, you boys are doing pretty good.”

“Thanks Mr. Rolling,” Matt smiled, shaking his hand as Mr. Rolling patted him on the shoulder. “We’ve still got lots of season to go.”

Mr. Rolling started going on about his glory days or something else, Matt wasn’t really paying attention because Brady was still in the same spot just a few feet away from him, only now he was talking to their Dad and the Williams’s from three doors down and you– well your group dispersed except for you and Trent. The two of you were in the same spot, only a little more off to the side by the door and his heart dropped into his feet when he noticed the red and green Christmas decoration hanging above your heads.

You and Trent were standing underneath the damn mistletoe.

“You think you boys got big odds on the Stanley Cup this year?”

“Oh um, I don’t know,” Matt replied, staring at Brady and hoping he would somehow look over. “Maybe, if we keep playing a strong game.”

Mr. Rolling went off into another spiel, Brady finally looking over in Matt’s direction and raising an eyebrow. “Mistletoe,” Matt mouthed, nodding his head over towards the door.

“What?”

“Mistletoe,” he mouthed again, this time pointing in your direction subtly with his hand that was holding his beer before he brought it up to his lips.

Brady’s face scrunched up in confusion, shaking his head again “What?”

“Mistletoe!” Matt said, only this time it was out loud and right as his mom was standing by their fireplace, getting everyone in the crowd’s attention.

Meaning he said it loud enough for every single person in the room to hear.

Brady’s eyes went wide as his mouth formed an ‘o’ before finally looking over in the direction of where he knew their mom hung the mistletoe and then shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of his beer before looking back at Matt and mouthed. “You’re fucked.”

Matt looked over, just like everyone else in the room had done and you and Trent were both standing there, shocked and unsure of what to do now that everyone’s eyes were on you. “Well, it is a Christmas tradition,” his mom spoke, trying to clear the awkward tension in the room as you looked over at Matt with a look that could kill. “But however, anyone caught under the mistletoe in this house is by no means has to kiss whoever they’re under there with unless they want–”

In seconds, you turned away from him and back to Trent, moved your hands up to his face and pulled him closer to you before pressing your lips against his, earning a few applause, whistles and cheers from the guests in the room before you pulled away.

“Well, way to keep up with the Christmas spirit,” his mom cleared her throat again, turning back towards everyone with a smile. “And with that, we’re going to go ahead and start Secret Santa here in about five minutes, so everyone go ahead and get what you need and we’ll get started once everyone is back.”

Once everyone started to move around to do whatever they needed to do before the Secret Santa exchange, Matt saw you and Trent talking together before he made his way over to Brady, shoving his shoulder. “Really?”

“You’re the one who blasted them under the mistletoe, not me,” Brady replied, shoving Matt’s shoulder back. “Since when did you think I was a lip reading expert?”

“How about you two go find something to help your mom with,” their dad said, nudging them in different directions.

“Yeah, Brae. I think I heard mom talk about needing more champagne,” Matt said, giving him a look.

“Sounds about right,” their dad nodded, patting Brady’s shoulder. “Go help your mom out and you,” he pointed at Matt, shaking his head. “Go find something to do.”

Matt nodded and walked back towards the kitchen, while Brady was finally making his way over to you and Trent, saying hi to you both before turning to you and motioning towards the area the basement door was in. You nodded and looked back at Trent, who just nodded in reply to whatever you said and then made your way away from where you were standing and through the crowd towards the basement. Once you were already turning down the hallway to open the door, Matt immediately walked out of the kitchen, making his way to the hall with a purpose. He paused in front of the open basement door before taking a deep breath and exhaling, walking through it and making his way down the stairs.

This was starting to feel like his only hope, and for all he knew, after that mistletoe accident…it was.

It was one thing for you to spend a ridiculous amount of time on your hair and make-up to get ready for this Christmas Eve party just so you could play into Taryn’s plan of making Matt regret treating you like he did that morning in his apartment and letting you leave like a puppy with its tail between its legs. But it was a whole nother for him to come and grab you to take to the party just because you were showing up late.

Late only because Taryn told you to be “fashionably late to make a statement.” And after last nights confession of her being the sole reason behind why you really did slip your panties in Matt’s backpocket at the bar, you immediately thought that she was one hundred percent behind Matt coming to your house to get you.

“Okay okay who’s next?” Shannon, the maid of honor said, coming back from getting the number of a man who’d been checking her out most of the night.

“I’ll go,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you still felt the effects of the blowjob shot you’d taken moments earlier. “I don’t mind going again, this is honestly the most fun I’ve had in forever.”

“We already know she’s going to pick dare,” Chelsea, the bride said with a smile as she nudged your arm. “You’re probably the only person I’ve met who's consistently been up for a daree.”

“That’s because she grew up with older brothers as best friends,” Taryn chimed in, a smile on her face.

“Okay, you give her the dare then!” Abigail, a bridesmaid said, pointing her drink at Taryn. “And since you’ve known each other since practically forever, it’s got to be good!”

Taryn nodded and smiled before looking at you and then looking over your shoulder, laughing to herself before looking right back at you. “Y/n, I dare you to go into the bathroom, take off your panties and then go put them in Matt’s back pocket without him catching you.”

The bridal party all squealed and gasped at Taryn’s dare and you just stared at her too shocked to respond. It was one thing to go ahead and do a blowjob shot while being in the same vicinity as the two Tkachuk boys you’ve known since forever, but it was a whole nother thing to take off your panties and stuff them in Matt’s backpocket when you’ve not only had feelings for him since you could remember, but also since he was currently sitting with two of his teammates.

“Ooh who’s Matt?” Chelsea smiled, her eyes wide.

“My older brother,” Taryn replied, pointing over to where Matt was at. “She’s been in love with him forever.”

“I have not!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms.

“She totally has, it’s in her diary. There’s written proof,” Taryn laughed, shaking her head.

“You’re totally blushing right now too!”

“You’ve definitely got feelings for him!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Matt nodding along to something Jacob was saying and sighed, looking back at your new friends. “Yeah, that doesn’t matter because I’m nothing but his little brother’s best friend. Have been for years.”

“Well, I say we change that tonight,” Shannon smiled, reaching at the bar for the new round of shots she’d ordered. “You’re hot, y/n and if he doesn’t see that then he’s blind–”

“Eh, more like he’s lost a few brain cells with all those hits he’s taken and fights he’s gotten in,” Taryn teased, nodding her head to the side.

“Regardless, he’d be a fool not to see you any differently,” Shannon handed you a shot, and nodded for you to take it. “Take a little more liquid courage, go into that bathroom, take your panties off and come strutting out like the bad bitch you are and shove them in his pocket.”

You held the shot in your hands, looking at the tequila and sighing, clinking the glass to hers and then downing the burning liquid. You shook your head, as you got over the taste and sighed. “Okay, wish me luck.”

The sound of your heart pounding was almost as loud as the music as you made your way to the bar bathroom, avoiding bumping into people or any random guy who wanted to say hello. You had to claim a stall to be able to slip off your shoes and your jeans, feeling like you were practically having an out of body experience the moment you were fully dressed again and held the red silk thong you’d been wearing in your balled up in your right fist. You quickly shoved them into your own jean pocket before washing your hands and leaving the bathroom, walking back over to the bachelorette group.

“I think I need another shot,” you said, looking at them all. “What if he catches me and then suddenly I’m the perv neighbor who lives across the street and tried to shove my panties in his pocket?”

“You’ll be fine, y/n, trust me,” Taryn laughed, turning you around and nudging you away. “Now go get my brother.”

You nod and took a deep breath, exhaling and making your way through the people crowded at the bar and over to Matt, Rasmus and Jacob, with a trying your damnedest to feel confident, but aren’t quite that sure, confident smile on your face.

“Y/n, come have a shot with us!” Rasmus called out, a big smile on his face as he waved you over to join them.

“Shots? I love shots!” You smiled, walking over, bypassing giving Jacob and Rasmus a hug and going straight to Matt, looping your right arm through his and leaning against him. You could feel him sort of stiffen at the action and felt a nervous twinge in your stomach. You kept the smile on your face as you nodded over your shoulder. “What kind of shots? Taryn and I have been doing shots with our new friends.

“Tequila,” Jacob smiled, you easily noticed how his gaze moved from you and over to Matt, even you weren’t oblivions to it, so that meant that Matt couldn’t have been either. “And you know what they say about tequila.”

“That it turns you into a fyllo,” Rasmus smiled, handing out the shots, his eyes also switching back and forth between you and Matt. “Amongst other things.”

You thought you heard Matt say something, but couldn’t really hear since he’d said it so low. “A fyllo?” You asked, looking away from Rasmus and towards Matt, in hopes that since he’s been his teammate for years, he’d have picked up on some kind of Swedish.

“Pisshead,” Jacob replied, a small and polite smile on his face. “It gets you drunk.”

You could feel your face warm up at the slight embarrassment but still nodded. “Oh, well, let’s get drunk.”

“I knew I liked you,” Jacob smiled, the first to hold his shot glass up. “Skål!”

You repeated after Jacob and made sure to clink your shot glass against each of theirs before tossing back the shot, once again swallowing back the burning liquor for the umpteenth time that night. And still, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes and shake your head after the shot with no chaser. “Okay, no more tequila.” You replied, putting the shot glass down.

“You okay?” Matt asked, looking at you for the first time since walking over.

“I’m fine, just drunk,” you smiled, nodding at him as you squeezed his arm reassuringly.

He laughed, eyes on you as he reached up towards your hair, bringing back a boa feather. “I know, I can tell. Boa?”

“Bachelorette party are the friends we made, they let us join,” you replied, smiling as you shifted yourself closer to him and instantly getting a whiff of the cologne he often wore and you loved so much.

Once he turned his attention back towards his teammates, you unlooped your right arm from his, still standing close to him and reached into your backpocket, grabbing your own panties, balling them up in your fist and then carefully reached over to his left back pocket and nudged your hand inside, stuffing the silk material deep into his pocket. Matt jumped at the contact and you quickly grabbed onto his arm with your left hand, squeezing it so he would know it was just you.

The dare was to sneak your panties into his pocket without him noticing, and since the second half of the dare was already ruined and you were running on pure adrenaline and tequila shots, you leaned up onto your toes and pressed your lips against his ear. “These are for you.” And then with a small kiss on the cheek, you pulled your hand from his pocket, unlooped your arm from his and turned around to walk back towards your group who were all staring at you with knowing smiles.

“Holy fucking shit, you did it!” Chelsea cheered, a big smile on her face as she pulled you into a hug the moment you got close enough to the group. “And y/n, I can promise you that he doesn’t look at you like some little sister or his brother's best friend, you should’ve seen the way he looked at you after you guys took the shot.”

“He found them,” Shannon gasped, nudging Taryn’s elbow and nodding towards where you’d just left. “Or he at least knows you put something in his pocket– nope, he’s looking, he’s looking!”

You looked over your shoulder to catch Matt looking at you, but all you could do was wink and turn back around before he saw you blush. “Does this mean I lost the dare or won it?”

“Girl, you literally took your panties off for a guy and shoved them in his back pocket,” Madison, another bridesmaid said, handing you a shot. “You just won everything.”

So tonight, your sole purpose was really to just survive the night without buying into any awkward encounter with Matt. It was bad enough that the conversation you both had in your room as he stood there waiting for you to finish getting ready was awkward, you really didn’t need that to happen again in front of friends and neighbors. Once you guys got inside of the Tkachuk’s home, you split off from him using checking in with your parents as an excuse. Which you did, so it wasn’t totally a lie. But after that small check in with your parents and then saying hello to Keith and Chantal, you avoided Matt like the plague.

If you were talking to someone and he was also talking to someone nearby? You excused yourself from the conversation or somehow got them to move a little bit further away. He happened to walk up or be called into a group you were standing in, you easily just excused yourself and topped up on your champagne or found other people to talk to. After the third time, you started to think that maybe Matt got the hint because you were finding yourself catching him more across the room from wherever you were, rather than just a few feet away.

Unfortunately, just because you’d kept your distance didn’t mean that every so often when you looked across the room, and you’d find him talking to someone in attendance, you wouldn’t stare at him or try to sneak looks. Part of you wanted to know if any part of him felt the least bit guilty of what happened between you two, not that he needed to feel guilty about anything except for maybe not walking you down…even though he didn’t need to feel guilty about that either because he did offer, you just turned him down.

And the cycle continued for the first near hour of being at the party. You desperately wish that maybe he was guilty about what happened and then do some logical reasoning with yourself that there really wasn’t anything to feel guilty about. No matter how many times Brady and Taryn tried to say that there was no way Matt could just easily brush you off like he had. Yet he absolutely had and that was just unfortunately your reality. A reality you were also trying not to think too much about, but were also desperately failing at.

“Hey, we’re going to grab some refills, do you guys want anything?” Maylee asked, looking at you and Trent.

“No, I’m good,” Trent replied, looking at you. “Y/n? Refill?”

“I’m good,” you smiled, nodding your head as you held up your half full glass of champagne. “I’ve still got some to sip on.”

“Cool,” Taryn nodded, looking between you and Trent with a smile. “We’ll be back.”

“So how’s school?” Trent asked, taking a sip of his beer. “How’d you guys do this season? This was your redshirt season, right?”

“No I couldn’t redshirt, I missed the cutoff by one game, but this was my Grad season,” you replied, nodding. “And we did pretty good. Won conference, but lost in the quarterfinals in the NCAA tournament to Florida State, but they ended up winning the whole damn thing, so there’s really not that much to be upset about since we held them to OT and they won by a penalty kick. But now I’m ready for retirement.”

“And how’s the knee? Still kicking?” He smiled, trying not to laugh at his own cheesy joke. But that’s one of things you liked about Trent, he wasn’t afraid to make a stupid or silly joke and laugh at it without hesitation or wondering if anyone else would find it funny.

“It’s kicking,” you laughed, sticking your leg out and bending your knee. “You can barely tell I tore my meniscus, huh?”

Trent bent down slightly holding your knee as he poked at the scars. “Nope, as far as I can tell you’re just a total klutz and tripped on some turf.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your foot back onto the ground and nudging him as he laughed. “How’s life up in Boston?”

“It’s–”

“Mistletoe!” A voice yelled, cutting over the silence that it looked like Chantal was trying to gain by standing in front of their fireplace. The voice you instantly recognized as Matt’s.

“What was that about?” Trent asked, furrowing his brows as he took another sip of his drink.

The first person you made eye contact with was Brady, who looked shocked before he looked to his left. And slowly, every one who was standing in the living room and atrium area…were suddenly staring at you and Trent.

“Um…why are they staring?” Trent asked, leaning towards.

“OOOOOH, Trent and y/n are under the mistletoe,” Maddie, the 13-year-old you used to babysit back when she was in elementary school, teased, pointing above your heads as she whispered with her friends as if you weren’t standing two feet away from them. “Now they have to kiss.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up just enough to see that sure enough, the two of you were standing directly under the mistletoe and your stomach dropped into your shoes. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, staring at you and practically burning holes in your skin as if they were all waiting to see whether or not you and Trent were going to partake in the Christmas tradition or be the Grinch’s of the Tkachuk’s Christmas Eve party.

“Well, it is a Christmas tradition,” Chantal said, giving the both of you a reassuring look as she nodded.

Your gaze followed over to where Brady had looked and you caught Matt’s eyes and for the first time all night, you could see the guilt that you’d been desperately hoping he’d feel even a tiniest ounce of. And you didn’t feel happy that he was feeling as bad as you, you only felt embarrassed.

“But however, anyone caught under the mistletoe in this house is by no means required to kiss whoever they’re under there with unless they want–”

You turned away from Matt and towards Trent, reaching up and cupping both sides of his face, giving him a ‘just go with it’ look before pulling him closer to you and kissing him, counting down from ten in your head as the sounds of mingled applause, cheers and whistles filled your ears. You’d kissed Trent before, many times the last two summers when the two of you would hang out or go on a date or two, so this wasn’t new. And neither was the fact that there were no butterflies, no fireworks and kissing Trent had absolutely nothing on kissing Matt, now that you knew what it felt to do so. You barely made it to three when you pulled away from Trent, no longer picturing in your head who you were actually kissing, but instead, picturing Matt.

“Well, way to keep up with the Christmas spirit,” Chantal said, clearing her throat as she looked at you with a surprised look before turning back to everyone else with a smile. “And with that, we’re going to go ahead and start Secret Santa here in about five minutes, so everyone go ahead and get what you need and we’ll get started once everyone is back.”

You and Trent both stood in your places as everyone started to move around the room, and the moment he looked over at you, you immediately finished off your champagne. “So uh…” he said, clearing this throat as he looked at his beer. “I think you’re great and all, and the last two summers were cool and you know, we had feelings and stuff but uh, I actually have a girlfriend back in Boston…”

Your eyebrows raised and your eyes widened as you felt your face start to heat up from the embarrassment of both unknowingly kissing a taken guy and the fact Trent thought that you kissing him meant you were still interested and not as a way to save your asses while also getting back at Matt…despite the fact you’d both had the ‘this was fun, let’s be friends?’ conversation before you went back to school.

“I’m sorry, I–” you shook your head, desperately trying to keep calm. “I didn’t know and I just thought it would get everyone to stop staring at us and…”

“Y/n, relax it’s fine, I’ll explain the mistake to her and she’ll be cool with it,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “But if you’re looking for a relationship, I know someone you might be interested in. One of my teammates–”

“Hey Trent,” Brady smiled, coming up to the both of you and patting Trent on the shoulder before looking at you. “Y/n. What a show there, you guys definitely brought the Christmas spirit.”

“Thanks,” you replied, not afraid to hide the daggers you were glaring his way.

“I was just telling y/n that my girlfriend won’t mind once I explained what happened,” Trent replied, Brady struggling to hide his smile as you continued to glare at him. “And that I have a teammate she might be interested in–”

“That sounds really great and all, but my mom wanted me to ask y/n if she could go grab some more champagne from the basement,” Brady replied, turning towards you. “What do you say? Think you can help?”

Without questioning just why Chantal was wanting you to be the one to go grab more champagne for the party, you nodded. “Absolutely. Trent, it was great to see you,” you smiled.

“You too, y/n, and really, don’t worry about it.” He nodded.

Once you turned your back away from Trent, the smile you’d kept on your face fell and you just ducked your head down and made your way through the party guests, hoping to avoid your parents from the show you put on and anyone else who might want to stop you from getting the champagne you were also more than eager to refill your flute of. You turned down the hallway, walking up to the basement door and opening it, not bothering to close it as you carefully made your way down the steps, holding the railing so you wouldn’t trip.

You were no stronger to where Keith and Chantal kept the alcohol in the house. Thanks to summer parties in the Tkachuk’s backyard or basement and all the times before when you’d help set up for whatever party Chantal was putting together. There were however, two absolute rules you knew no one ever went against when it came to the alcohol: don’t touch Keith’s rum and don’t touch his whiskey. The rest was absolutely fair play. However, you wouldn’t be going behind the makeshift bar for the champagne, instead, you knew Chantal kept the champagne for the party chilled in the fridge near the wine rack, that was just around the corner of the bar.

“Shoot, I should’ve asked how many bottles,” you mumbled, opening the fridge and seeing a fair amount. You grabbed three, tucking one against your side and grabbing the other two, holding one in each hand before nudging the fridge door closed and walking back around the corner.

“Hey,” you stopped and looked up from the champagne bottles to see Matt standing just in front of the bar, a frown on his face. “Can we talk?”

You almost fell for his stupid blue eyes and the way they were filled with that same guilt you’d seen in the living room, but then you remembered how he put you in the spotlight and used that small feeling to somehow, by the skin of your teeth, not fall for them. “No.”

“Y/n, come on,” he said, stepping in front of you as you tried to pass. “Just give me five minutes, please.”

“No, but for the record I forgive you for embarrassing Trent and I up there, so your five minutes aren’t needed.” You replied, trying to step by him again, only for him to follow you. “Matthew–”

“I don’t care about what happened up there. I-I mean I do, it was an accident, but only because Brady’s an idiot and I was trying to get him to move you and Trent out from the mistletoe.”

You smiled sarcastically nodding your head. “And how did that work out for you?” When he didn’t reply, you shook your head and sighed, brushing by the defeated Matt. “I need to get these upstairs for your mom.”

“Actually…you don’t,” he said, turning around. “I had Brady lie to you about my mom needing champagne so I could get you alone down here because you’ve been avoiding me all night and I need to talk to you.”

You kept your back to him, hoping he couldn’t see the moment that the confession came from his mouth. That one part of you that had been dying for him to explain himself, was now being overpowered by the other part of you that was too embarrassed from being turned away to want to hear it. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh cut the shit, y/n,” he scoffed. “You know damn well there’s something to talk about.”

“Actually Matthew, I don’t,” you replied, not bothering to hide the harshness in your voice when you said his name. “Because why would we need to talk about something that’s never happening again?”

“See? There it is right there!” He huffed, the sound of his arms hitting his sides following soon after. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! Stop acting so ignorant–”

“I’m not acting ignorant, Matthew,” you replied, whipping around to face him. “Just because I don’t want to stand here while you try to apologize for something you made very clear was never happening again, doesn’t make me ignorant. I don’t owe you anything and I’m pretty sure we agreed not to talk about it again.”

“I never said I wasn’t going to talk about it,” he replied, shaking his head. “But clearly what happened that night didn’t mean a damn thing to you because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague since we got to the party.”

“You kicked me out of your apartment after brushing off the fact that you had sex with me–”

“We had sex. You weren’t exactly opposing any–”

“Fine whatever, that we” you replied, sarcasm dripping heavily off your tongue as you rolled your eyes. “Had sex all over your apartment and said it was never happening again because of what? I’m your little brother’s best friend? That stupid 13 year-old-girl who used to wear your number on her face at your games? You had sex–”

“We–”

“I don’t care, Matthew!” You yelled, shrugging your shoulders since you couldn’t exactly throw your arms in the air. “The details don’t matter because you’re the one who treated me like I was some random girl you picked up at a bar. Yeah you cuddled with me and let me stay the night and housed me until Taryn could pick me up, but in the end when it really mattered, you treated me like you probably treat every other girl. So excuse me if I don’t want to stand here and listen to you try and make yourself feel better for your shitty actions.”

“Jesus,” Matt ran his hands down his face before bringing them up to his hair and running his fingers through it. “You came on to me, y/n! At the bar that night? You were the one who–”

“It was a dare, Matthew!” You cut him off, feeling yourself get angry. “Putting my panties in your pocket–”

“I’m not talking about the damn panties, y/n! I’m talking about what happened afterwards,” he replied, looking at you as he shook his head, the anger no longer on his face. “What happened outside the bar and why the hell we ended up at my place in the first place. You kissed me–”

“No, you kissed me first!”

Matt stepped towards you, his towering frame freezing your own feet to the ground as he stood barely half a foot away, he was so close you could breathe in that stupid cologne that you loved so much. “That’s not what happened and you know it,” He reached up with his left hand, hesitating at first until he saw you didn’t move or tell him to back away. His Adams apple bobbed as he moved his hand towards your face, bringing his palm against your cheek and you felt the rough calluses soft against your cheek. “Y/n…” he spoke softly, blue eyes staring into your own as his dark lashes touched the tops of his cheeks with every blink.

The group of you all took two more rounds of shots, laughing and getting to know each other more and finding out Chelsea’s wedding plans, not bothering to move out onto the dance floor but keeping your places at the small table they’d claimed as your own and you and Taryn had joined.

You were nursing your rum and coke, leaning against the table and listening to Taryn tell you, Chelsea, Shannon and Abigail about the time she caught you and Brady having your first kiss when you were 11 and how their Dad wouldn’t stop teasing you both about it for weeks afterwards, when Shannon perked up, eyes wide and a smirk on her face.

“Uh oh, we’ve got an intruder coming over,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink and looking over your shoulder. “Don’t freak now, y/n, but you’ve got a visitor.”

Before you could look over your shoulder to see who it was, you smelled his cologne and then felt his hand on your lower back and gracefully moved off to your hip as his breath fanned out against your ear. “Hey, can I get you alone for a sec?”

You nodded, putting your drink on the table and turning to face him, chests meeting as you felt the group of friends practically stare holes into the back of your head. “Mhhm, lead the way.”

Matt kept his hand around your waist as he led you away from the group, keeping you close to him as you walked through the crowded bar before reaching the hallway down towards the bathrooms, walking towards the end and out the back patio door where few people were outside due to the chilly weather, even despite the flamed lamps that provided some heat.

“What’s up?” You asked, swallowing the knot in your throat as you heard the thumping of the music from inside the bar, trying to ignore the couple who were finishing up smoking their cigarettes.

“Uh, well um,” Matt cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to make sure you’re good and not too far gone.”

“Really?” You frowned, crossing your arms before playing off the slight disappointment and nudging him with your elbow. “College may have strengthened my tolerance, but you and Brady are the ones who started it. I learned from the best.”

Matt laughed, nodding his head. “Well, you did outbeat us both on a keg stand.”

You watched the small puffs of hot breath leave his mouth as he looked anywhere but you. “Are you sure that’s what you wanted to talk about?” You asked, reaching out and touching his forearm. “Just…to check on me?”

When he finally looked at you, the cigarette couple had finally left the two of you out there alone and you saw his Adams apple bob as his left arm reached back and when he brought it back forward, your red thong was dangling from his index finger. “These?”

You froze for just a moment, the slight panic running through your chest and the many what if’s scenarios popping up in your head, but at the memory of Shannon and the rest of the girls commending you on your feat, you pushed it all back and looked at him through your eyelashes. “I meant what I said, Matty. Those are for you.”

He blinked in disbelief and his Adams apple bobbed up and down with each gulp he took to buy himself some time to reply, or even react– if there was anything to say. And with each passing second, your small wave of confidence started to crash.

“Well, if you don’t want them,” You sighed, reaching up for your panties. “Then I’ll take them–”

“I didn’t say that,” Matt finally spoke, raising his arm a little higher so they were out of your reach and you were pressed against his chest, his right hand resting on your hip, his thumb brushing against the material of your bodysuit. “I just–”

“Then what?” You asked softly, looking up at him, your left hand brushing against the inside of his forearm. “What is it?”

Matt stared at you as you carefully reached up, grabbing the silk material from his fingers and then reached behind him and tucked them back into his back pocket. Before pulling away from him, you leaned against his ear, letting your lips brush against his cool skin and feeling the stubble from his beard scratch against them. “I meant it when I said they’re yours,” you whispered, kissing the skin just by his ear and smiling. “And I am too if you want me.”

You were barely able to lean back when you felt his grip on your hip tighten and his left hand come up to the side of your face, his calloused palm soft against your skin as he looked at you. “And if I want you right here and now?” He spoke, voice gravelly like his throat had been dry.

“Then at least have the decency to make sure I don’t get frostbite on my ass,” you smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “The last thing I need is for my parents to get an insurance bill and I have to explain why I suffered frostbite on my ass.” You cleared your throat as Matt smiled. “You see Mom and Dad, when two people get drunk enough they decide that they can have se–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt said, leaning into you and your back resting against the snow covered wooden railing. “I’m stone cold sober.”

“Hm, so if I kiss you right now, you’re telling me that I won’t taste some sort of liquor on you? Maybe even cranberry juice for the vodka?” You replied, tilting your chin up slightly. “Because I’m willing to bet that I will.”

Matt tilted his head to the side as he stuck out his bottom lip just slightly, seeming to dare you to do it. “I don’t know, or you could just take my word for it?”

You moved your face closer to him, his hand still resting on your cheek as your noses brushed and you looked at him. “Too bad I’m a betting kind of woman,” you whispered, pulling away just barely and sneaking a glimpse down at his mouth. When you looked back, his eyes were darker almost, but they were still locked on you, daring you to make the move.

And when you did, it was everything that the pre-teen, teenaged and last week versions of you ever could have imagined. You’d always just known that Matt had the softest lips and that even with the simple touch, despite the cold weather, the kiss both warmed you and sent chills down your spine. He held onto your face as he deepened the kiss, sighing into it as he held you closer to him like he was almost desperate to be touching you more than he already was. Your left hand moved up to cup the side of his face, feeling his beard against your palm as your right hand moved to slide beneath his shirt, both of you pulling back from the kiss to catch your breath.

“So?” Matt asked, breathing heavily as he held you close to him. “What’s the verdict?”

“I taste a little bit of cranberry in there,” you replied, a smile on your face. “But I think I might need a few more tests to really figure it out.”

Matt leaned back in and kissed you again, his right hand moving from your hip to between the two of you, and you felt his hand tugging at the button of your jeans, getting it undone in record time before you leaned back just enough to look at him as he moved his hands into your pants. “What are you doing?” You asked, looking down at his hand as you felt him move your bodysuit to the side, his cold fingertips brushing against you.

“Just testing a theory,” he whispered, moving his hand deeper into your pants before you felt his index finger brush softly against your lips, yet to touch you where you were wanting him the most. “If I were to just dip my finger in for a split second, would I find you dripping all because of me?”

This time you were the one that gulped as you met his gaze and nodded, that cocky smirk on his lips that you’ve loved since you could remember as he kept the slow torturous brushing of his finger. “I don’t know,” you replied, echoing his earlier statement. “Or you could just take my word for it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted even higher as he slid his index finger through your folds only once before pushing it inside of you, your left hand moving from his face to his shoulder, gripping it tightly as you gasped from the cold feeling. He pumped his finger inside of you twice just as slowly as he’d done previously before removing his hand out of your pants and sliding your bodysuit back into place, bringing his right hand up to his face and putting his index finger into his mouth, sucking the remnants of you off of his finger as he kept his gaze on you.

“So?” You replied, chest rising and falling from the action as if you’d run a marathon and as Matt reached back down between you and re-zipped and buttoned your jeans. “What’s the verdict?”

He reached up and tucked stray pieces of hair, the wind blew into your face, behind your ears and leaned in and kissed you again, his tongue softly brushing against your own before he pulled away just barely. “I think we should go back to my place so I can get a few more tests in.”

You nodded your head, a smile on your face as you reached your left arm up and rested your hand on the nape of his neck, brushing your fingers through some of his curls. “Take me home, Matty.”

“Y/n, come on,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Let me apologize…let’s just talk, please?”

You wanted to talk. You wanted to be able to stand there and let him say whatever it was he needed to say because you remembered him telling you to your face while lying in his bed that being with you was so much more different than any other times he’s had girls in his bed, because it was real. And then there was the blurry memory you weren’t sure of if it was a dream or not of laying there in his arms after the last time and hearing him tell you that he loved you. Everything in you was wanting to stand there to hear what he had to say, because you’d been craving for any sort of answer from the moment you watched the elevator doors close as he stood there and waved at you from his apartment door.

But when you zoned back in and met his eyes, it was like standing in the front hall of his apartment all over again when he told you that your night together was only a one night stand and it was never going to happen again. And every ache and pain and stupid sad song that made you want to cry on that uber ride to the airport and every minute between security and that plane ride back to St. Louis– every passing minute until right now, came crashing down and you couldn’t.

All you wanted to do was cry.

“I need to get the champagne upstairs,” you spoke softly, shaking your head and turning away from him. “I need to–”

“Y/n, please–”

“No, Matthew!” You yelled, reaching out to smack his hand away as he went to grab your wrist, instantly dropping the bottle of champagne that had been tucked against your side down onto the floor and feeling it splatter all over the floor, your shoes and your legs. “Great, now look at what you made me do.”

“Y/n let me just get the broom from the closet and–”

“Getting the broom isn’t going to fix this! It’s not going to magically get rid of all the glass o-or the champagne like it never happened!” You snapped, looking down at the shattered bottle on the floor, squatting down carefully and resting the other two bottles on the ground before you started to pick up the bigger pieces of glass, keeping your head down as you felt the tears burn in your eyes. “It’s not going to do anything but make a bigger mess. Just because you apologize doesn’t mean that it wipes away the fact that you hurt me when you said it would never work and instead of just talking about it, you immediately brushed me off as one of your many one-night stands.”

“Y/n–”

“Because it hurt, Matthew, it really fucking hurt,” you sniffled, continuing to pick up larger pieces of glass carefully and dropping them into the bottom half of the bottle that didn’t break.

“What was I supposed to think, y/n? You tried to leave me alone in my bed first!” He replied, coming back from the storage closet with a broom. “Did you forget that?”

“I was scared, Matthew!” You cried, looking up at him. “I was scared of what you’d say because of what you said to Sam at that stupid team party two Christmases ago. I was scared that you’d wake up, see me there and realize it was a mistake.”

“I wouldn’t–” he rested the broom against the bar, shaking his head. “I didn’t…you misunderstood what I said to Sam–”

“So I don’t mean anything to you? The only relationship we have is that I’m Brady’s friend?” You asked, throwing the pieces of glass into the bottle. “Oh and what was that last thing you said? That’s right, I was better off going home with Sam than staying at the party. What about any of that did I misunderstand?”

“Misunderstood was the wrong word, you just–” he huffed, walking over and squatting down, helping you pick up the pieces. “You missed what I said after.”

You kept your head down, continuing to carefully pick up the shards of glass and put them in the empty bottle. “I don’t care.”

“I told him I didn’t mean it, any of it…what I said,” he replied, putting a piece into the jar before stopping and looking at you.

“You still said it,” you replied, looking at him and shrugging. “And I still don’t care.”

“Damn it, y/n, I told him I didn’t like you okay? I told him that I didn’t like you…” You froze as the confession came out, a heavy pause as you heard him take a deep breath and you blinked through the hot tears in your eyes as you continued picking up the few remaining chunks of glass. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Your head snapped up at the words, and the moment you met with those same guilt ridden blue eyes, you felt sick to your stomach. “No,” you replied, shaking your head and looking back down at the glass.

“Y/n–”

“No! You-you can’t just say that because you want me to listen to you!” You yelled, throwing down the piece of glass in your hand into the bottle, taking a sharp inhale and looking down at your hand to see a cut across the bottom half of your palm, the sight of blood trickling out being the final straw as the tears broke from your eyes. “Damn it.”

“Shit, y/n come on, let me–”

“Don’t touch me!” you yelled, turning away from him as you tried to stand yourself up, Matt being quicker and coming up beside you, holding onto your left elbow and pulling you up. And no sooner than you were on your feet, did you shove him away. “Get away from me, Matthew! I mean it.”

“Hey, they’re starting Secret Santa,” Brady said, coming down the stairs and stopping just at the end when you and Matt were in view. “What’s going on?”

“Brady, it’s not,” Matt said, shaking his head as he watched his younger brother take in the scene in front of him. You in tears, Matt looking frustrated and a broken bottle of champagne on the ground and blood dripping from your right palm. Brady looked at Matt, the anger all over his face. “Brady I swear–”

“I don’t care, Matt,” Brady replied, walking over behind the bar and opening a drawer where Keith often kept rags to dry off the surface, grabbing one and walking back over to you, taking your hand and placing the folded rag against your palm, putting your other hand on top of it. “Mom’s got that kit in the kitchen. Dad’s in there now, we’ll go see if he’ll check it out for you.”

You nodded as he used another rag, wiping at your cheeks to save you from the embarrassment of walking up there with tears streaming down them. “Thanks Brae,” you whispered, turning around without giving Matt a second look.

When his brother looked at him again, Matt felt his stomach drop and he shook his head as he came over. “Brady, I swear to God it’s not what it looks like,” he spoke quietly. “Ask her and she’ll–”

“No,” Brady replied just as quiet, tossing the extra rag back onto the bar and shaking his head. “I meant what I said, Matt. You fuck it up again and I’m not helping anymore. I’m on her side on this.” He walked back over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s get it cleaned up. Don’t want you missing the awesome gift I got you for Secret Santa.”

You laughed softly, letting Brady lead you up the basement stairs and trying your best not to give a second thought to Matt, who you’d left behind and his confession of what supposedly happened at the team party years ago. And as much as you wanted to believe it, you just couldn’t. It was too convenient of him to say that, because he knew it’d get you to sit there and listen to him apologize. He would be dumb not to know of your feelings for him all these years, because it wasn’t a secret to anyone else.

But believing that it was all a ruse to get you to stay there, hurt a lot less than believing it was true and him still sending you away from his apartment like that. Because if he’s really loved you all these years, it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to brush you off and send you away like that.

And that’s what hurt the most.

Matt was wrecked, there was no other way to put it.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe he’d expected that you would get angry with him when he tried to apologize, but he didn’t expect it to go that far. Nowhere in his plan was he supposed to tell you how he felt– at least not yet. But he did and you reacted just like he thought you would, you freaked out. And he didn’t blame you one bit. If it were him, he would’ve thought exactly what you did–that he said it just to get you to give him a chance to talk.

But that’s not what it was and it wasn’t what he meant. He just…he panicked. You weren’t listening to him, you were getting frustrated, he was frustrated, and then the champagne bottle shattered and you started crying and it was…it broke his heart. He’s seen you cry before at seemingly all stages of life– as a toddler when Brady stole your favorite stuffed animal, as a kid when you wiped out hard at the lake during tubing. As a teenager when he walked in on you crying in his mom’s arms because your parents had to drive an hour north because your Grandmother was taken to the hospital after a fall and needed emergency surgery on her hip. As an adult, when you lost in the quarterfinals of what was your last season playing soccer ever.

But this was the first time that you were crying because of him and it broke him.

He put the remaining bottom half of the champagne bottle onto the bar, sweeped up the mess, tossed a few towels down onto the floor and soaked it up before grabbing the other two bottles and made his way up the stairs, his mom getting ready to walk down and catching him by surprise.

“Oh, thank you Matthew, I was just coming down to get some more!” She smiled, taking the two bottles from him and kissing his cheek.

“It’s no problem, mom.” He nodded, pointing down the stairs. “One dropped, but I cleaned it up.”

“That’s okay, we’ll mop it up later. But we’ve only just started Secret Santa, go ahead and join everyone in the living room,” she smiled, rubbing his arm before turning back down the hall to make her way into the kitchen.

He just nodded and waited for her to get out of his view before making his way into the crowded living room, easily slipping amongst the guests where he was able to grab the present he’d brought for you back under the tree and then stayed at the back of the crowd. Once he saw you, Brady, his mom and his Dad walk out of the kitchen, he kept his eyes on you, Brady staying close to your side like he was your own personal watchdog as the two of you stopped beside Taryn and Maylee. He could see you had a wrap across your palm and based on the relaxed states of his Dad and Brady, he figured you must not need stitches.

But once two more people took their turns to exchange gifts, Matt slipped back out into the kitchen and then out the sliding glass door into his backyard undetected. It was cold, but he didn’t expect to be out long. He left his own backyard and made his way across the street to your house, finding that spare key once more before letting himself in. Closing the door behind him, he made his way up the stairs and back into your room, walking over to your bedside table where your macbook was sitting and placing the red gift bag on top.

After making an adjustment to your gift,  he left your room, he jogged back down the stairs and out your front door. He locked the door and put your spare key back in its hiding place before jogging back across the street and opening their second garage with the code. Unlocking his car, he got inside and started it, pulling out into the empty driveway before closing the garage from the opener hanging on his sun shield. He pulled a little further out of the driveway so he wasn’t so close to the house and just out onto the street. As he waited in his car for it to warm up enough so he could drive, Matt looked towards the house where he could partially see the party still going on through the blinds. He barely caught a glimpse of Brady walking up to the tree, picking up his gift with a smile before announcing who he had. And when you walked over to him, the same sad smile you had in the elevator days before on your face as you greeted him with a hug, Matt put his car into drive and pulled away.

He missed Secret Santa.

He missed Secret Santa because he had to drive into town and try to get into Michaels when they were five minutes from closing and the little old lady who was locking up early tried her damndest to keep him out. But he pleaded his case, all but telling her his entire life story with you and she let him buy what he needed to– a few white poster papers, a pack of sharpies and a glue stick– then he went back home, parked his car back into the garage and walked back into the house the way he snuck out– out through the sliding glass door in the kitchen and then went back down in the basement, figuring he’d wait for the party to clear out before making his way upstairs.

It wasn’t as simple as he thought though. Once he thought he gave everyone at the party enough time to leave, he grabbed the art supplies and stood up off of the couch, ready to make his way upstairs, only for the basement door to open first. Matt was nervous that it was going to be Brady who was walking down the steps, not quite ready for whatever it was he had to say that he didn’t want to or couldn’t say in front of you and was more relieved when it turned out to be his mom instead. Checking on him to see why he didn’t come up for Secret Santa. Matt just told her he felt a little tired and nauseous, maybe not eating enough before drinking his beers and took a nap on the couch, only just waking up a few minutes ago.

His mom believed it, told him that Trent got his gift and that his gift was waiting for him upstairs if he wanted to open it. He helped her put the one champagne bottle they didn’t need, away before walking back up the basement stairs with her where Matt immediately saw your parents still walking around, helping with the clean-up and panicked that maybe you’d stayed as well. He found out that wasn’t the case when his mom had him follow her into the kitchen to grab the trash to take out before he could go upstairs for the night. Brady and Taryn were snacking on whatever small amounts of food were left of the charcuterie boards, both of them giving him a look but never really saying anything else before he left to throw the trash away.

Your parents were walking out of the front door when he’d come back and that’s when he asked about whether or not you were still inside. They told him that you’d left around the first group of people, saying you’d had a headache and just needed to go to bed, but that you’d be over with them tomorrow for the early Christmas dinner. He said goodnight to the both of them before walking back into his own house and saying goodnight to his family, grabbed the present his mom had pointed out that was from his Secret Santa and then walked upstairs and into his own room, closing the door for the night.

Not like he even slept that well anyway. Once he heard everyone go to their own rooms, he left his to shower and change over, passing out in his own bed only to wake up after a few hours of constantly restless tossing and turning and being fully awake at 6:30 Christmas morning. And after going to the bathroom and returning to his bedroom that’s when he picked the Secret Santa present back up that he’d rested on top of his dresser. It was a fairly large rectangle shape and wrapped up in St. Louis Blues wrapping paper– knowing immediately that it was probably someone’s version of a practical joke since he clearly didn’t play for them. There wasn’t a tag to say who it was from, part of him feeling guilty for missing out on it since he could thank whoever got it for him, but he could always just ask his mom.

Fully unwrapped, it was in a cardboard box and when he lifted the lid up, he saw a two pack of small winter puff coats koozies called cold beer coats that were lying on top of dark blue tissue paper and on top of a simple white card that said ‘Merry Christmas’ written in gold script. He picked the card up and opened it, his heart dropping the minute he saw what was written inside.

Because it was your handwriting. You were his Secret Santa.

‘Merry Christmas, Matt. Hope the koozies keep your hand warm but the beer cold and that this gift brings a little piece of home with you in Calgary.

~ y/n.

P.S. Please at least use anything other than bud light. It’s not THAT good, but since it’s your go-to, I’ve already got you started on your collection.’

He peeled back the two pieces of tissue paper and was greeted with a plywood beer cap holder that was carved into your guys’ home state of Missouri, bottle cap sized holes covering the entire thing. Suddenly the bud light comment made sense and he found himself laughing as he held up the plywood state, staring at the bud light bottle cap that you’d placed dead center of the board. He could easily see this on the wall of his apartment, the one just by the island bar of his kitchen and no matter how hard he tried to imagine himself being the one to put the new bottle caps into a slot, you were in there too, a proud smile on your face as you put the new bottle cap in, then turning around with an even bigger smile and pointing at the spot proudly.

Which was instantly wiped away when he remembered seeing you upset last night. The tears on your face as you yelled at him and told him how bad he had hurt you. And then that guilt and hurt was only made worse now that he knew you were his Secret Santa and he could only imagine how it must have felt when you called his name to come up and get his gift…and he never showed. Twice in one night did he embarrass you, and three times in the last two days did he hurt you. And it killed him.

Matt put the present back into the box and carefully covered it up with tissue paper and closed the lid. He left the box on his bed before leaving his room and going downstairs. He put on his boots and grabbed his winter coat from the closet just by the front door, zipping it up and making his way out of his house, not caring that the sun was barely starting to rise or how cold it was outside. He wanted to talk to you, needed to.

He was just hoping you’d give him the chance to.

Last night was absolutely…just not what you thought it would be. Sure, you expected it to be a little bit weird being around Matt after everything that went down with the two of you in his apartment. But you definitely didn’t expect it to turn out the way it did. Matt cornering you in the basement, pleading his case to talk after having Brady lie to you to grab more champagne just so he could get you alone. Dropping one of the champagne bottles and having it shatter when reliving the memory of how the two of you ended up at his apartment in the first place– that rush of emotions from kissing him for the first time and then remembering what happened the morning after too much for you to be able to stand around and listen to him try to apologize. Matt saying that he’s been in love with you for years.

Not one night feelings, not a crush, not even just simply liking you– love. Matt, Brady’s older brother, your longtime crush turned second best friend. That  him telling you he loved you when you were half asleep in his bed…wasn’t a dream, it was real. And then hearing him say it again in a panic, it didn’t make your heart flutter or make you want to jump into his arms and kiss him– it made you feel so deeply hurt that you felt nauseous. You’d believed it for a second, one small second, but then you realized what if he’d only said it because he was scared you would leave that basement and avoid him for however long you did this time?

It only made matters worse when after crying in the kitchen while Brady told Keith that you’d accidentally cut your hand after dropping a champagne bottle, a lie but one that worked, only minutes later that Brady was called so early in Secret Santa and he had you…which meant you would have to give your gift to Matt minutes after the fiasco that happened in the basement. Only, when you had picked up the present you’d gotten for him two months earlier and said his name, he didn’t come up to you. And when you looked around the room, he was nowhere to be found. You ended up putting the present beneath the tree and told Trent that Matt had him, Brady able to remember which present was his and the activity moved on with ease…but you spent the rest of your night locked in your own head.

And when the first break of partygoers started to leave, you took that as your window to leave as well. Claiming you had a headache and just needed to get some sleep before walking out the door with all of those guests who’d brought their children with them to the party.

Yeah, you’d left with all the kids but it was what you needed because you barely made it through the front door of your house before you started crying again. You cried dropping the shoes you’d taken off at the first front porch step. You cried walking up the stairs and struggling to unzip your dress, just dropping it on your bathroom floor to take a shower (which you also cried in). The crying went on and on from shower, to taking off your make-up, finally easing up when you got changed into your pajamas and locked yourself in your room to crawl into bed and just watch older seasons of the Bachelorette to hurt your feelings some more.

It was right after you’d crawled into bed and turned on your tv and HBO Max…when you saw the familiar red gift bag on your bedside table. It was the same red gift bag that Matt had been holding in his hands hours earlier when he’d come over to see if you were ready to head to the party. As the first episode of Hannah B’s season started to play out, you sat yourself up and stared at the bag…contemplating whether or not to open it.

On one hand, you were still incredibly hurt and pissed at him, even more so now since he clearly found his way back into your room just to drop this off without you knowing it. But on the other, you were nosey and wanting to know what it was…and even after everything that happened in the basement, clearly you having this present was important since he’d dropped it off sometime in the night.

You grabbed the strings of the bag and rested it in your lap, the white tissue paper sticking out of the top of it not showing what was inside the bag. You pulled the paper out, placing it on the bed beside you and just stared at what was inside. You pulled out the white Apple iPhone box out of the bag and put it down on top of your comforter, pulling off the lid and revealing a light blue iPhone 13 Pro Max.

He’d bought you a new phone. And not even just a new phone, but the newest iPhone model and one that was at least four models newer than your iPhone 11 Pro Max.

You looked inside the bag, making sure it was empty before putting the lid back on the box and then the box back into the gift bag, ready to put the tissue paper back in too before you noticed what looked like folded notebook paper peeking out from beneath the tissue paper. You pulled it out from beneath it and flipped it over to see your name written on it in Matt’s scribbled handwriting. Your heart was thumping against your chest as you started to slowly unfold the three folded notebook paper, and seeing two pages was filled with his writing.

‘Y/n,

I’m sorry. This probably won’t be the first time that I say it in this letter, but I wanted to start off with that, because that’s what I am (amongst other things I’m sure you’ve called me to B and T, but all deserved) and that’s what I feel. I can’t explain why I acted the way I did, because the one thing that I didn’t do that I should have done, is sit you down and talk. But instead, nervous and scared of how our night together probably freaked you out because of our long history…I took the easy way out by joking with you about it and then never giving you the chance to call it anything but. The thing is though, I lied to you three times that morning. The first was when I called our night a one-night stand and said that’s all it was. The second, was when I told you that the two of us could never become a thing because it would be awkward. The final time, was when I said it was never happening again.

Because the thing is, y/n…none of that was true. I only called it a one-night stand because I thought you wouldn’t want it to become anything else. That sleeping with your best friend’s brother was going to be one of those drunken what the hell did I do moments to you, and I thought you were okay with one-night stands, because you’d alluded to previous ones– but Brady has since told me I was wrong and I’m sorry (see? I told you) because our night together was not what I said it was. Us together wouldn’t be awkward, if anything I think it would be the most natural revelationship of our lives. We fit together, you give me shit when I give it to you, you know how to humble me and there isn’t a moment I can think of where I didn’t enjoy being around you. And most of all, that night together was probably the most raw and emotional and comfortable night I’ve ever spent with someone. Like I told you, it’s different with you, y/n. Everything about us together that night was real.

I was just…scared because I heard you that morning freaking out in bed and then pacing around my bathroom. I just jumped the gun and thought that spending the night with me and waking up in my bed was your worst nightmare. And it hurt, because I’ve loved you for years, y/n. I had a small crush on you that summer before I went into sixth grade when you made me a good luck card for middle school. It was serious for me, that summer before junior year on your 14th birthday when I helped you get rid of the cake that Brady smashed in your face. I can still picture the moment where you looked at me with cake all over your face, frustrated that Brady had done it. It was cute, I’ll admit. And that night when we played 1v1 with your new mini goal set…that’s when I really felt everything change. Anytime after that when we were together, you weren’t just y/n across the street, y/n who was Brady’s best friend anymore. You were just…you.

I was a total goner for you by your senior year. I don’t know if you ever knew this or anything, but remember how you weren’t going to go to your senior prom because you didn’t have a date? And then my Mom offered me up as your date and we got a tux to match your dress and a corsage and everything like just a few days before? You thought that my mom had put me up to it…but she didn’t. It was really all my idea, but I figured that you’d probably say no if I offered…so I told my mom to ask instead. My mom didn’t pick out my tux or the corsage, I did. You thought that I’d rather have been anywhere that night, and yes, you even said it to me so I know it was true, but the truth is…I wanted to be there for you and with you. Because by then, I was in love with you and I knew it from the moment you walked down the stairs in your parents house wearing the glittery red dress with the drooped neckline and the high slit to your thigh. You told me not to make any jokes about how you’d picked a red dress and that it wasn’t because it was the Flames main color, I told you how gorgeous you looked instead. I think you knew that I meant it too, because you looked caught off guard before telling me you initially wanted the dress in a lighter blue because it looked like the one Ariel had in the Little Mermaid, but the red one was ‘perfect for you’ like you said our moms had said…and I agree.

I still remember that night, you danced the whole night with your friends, even letting me join along since you said my prom experience was ‘hockey first, student life second’ and that was the most fun I’d had in a long time. But I knew you were hesitant about dancing with just me, because anytime a slow dance came on, your feet were either tired, you had to go to the bathroom or you were thirsty and I didn’t push you because I was already nervous. But then the DJ announced that it was going to be the last slow dance of the night and there was no way I was going to let you miss out on having a slow dance at your senior prom, so I asked if you’d dance with me, and for a moment thought you’d say no like all the times before…but you said yes. It only took you until the second verse to actually relax, the whole beginning of the song you were talking about anything and everything, nervously may I add…though you tried to hide it. But by the second time the chorus came around, you had relaxed a little more, trusting that I wouldn’t step on your foot or ruin your dress or anything. And when you laid your head on my chest, I was scared that you’d feel my heart race and that when I pulled you closer, you’d step away…but you didn’t.

I was in love with you that night, and I’ve been in love with you every day and night and single moment after that. Yes, especially the night we spent together. If I would have known that you liked me or even thought of me that way…then I would’ve kissed you during that slow dance when you looked at me. I would’ve kissed you when we came back to your house and ate our McDonalds in the tree house. But I didn’t, because I didn’t want to overstep. So kissing you that night outside of the bar…it was years in the making and it was worth every year I waited– because it was perfect.

And Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer is still on my phone, by the way. I’ll never forget or delete that song.

I don’t know if writing this will do anything or if you’ll even read it (though I hope you will), but I just…wanted and needed you to know that you mean so much more to me than the way I made you believe you did. So, so much more, y/n– I can’t even put it into words. It’s not part of your Christmas presents, but I know your phone got pretty damaged from dropping it in the sink (sorry, but also not that sorry) so I bought you a new one. Consider it an I’m sorry and Merry Christmas gift.

Really, y/n…I am sorry for how everything happened and I hope that we can sit down and talk it all out like we should have from the moment you asked me why I hadn’t said anything about our night together on the couch. Because it’s what you deserve now and deserved then.

Merry Christmas and I hope you give us the chance to talk everything out, because y/n, I have a deep gut feeling that this…us…it’s meant to happen.

Love,

Matt

P.S. I’m adding this tonight (12/24) though I wrote the letter yesterday when I got home from the airport and Brady chewed me out (rightfully of course). I’m really sorry about what happened tonight, y/n. What happened in the basement, that’s…it’s not what I wanted to happen and I hate that it did because seeing you cry and knowing I was the reason, hurt. And you are the last person in this world that I’d ever want to hurt, let alone make cry. So, if you don’t want to talk to me or see me for a while, I get it and I won’t try to reach out or make Brady help get you to talk to me. Just know that I had no intention of telling you that I love you the way that I did– I swear on everything…I panicked and it came out, but it’s true. I love you, y/n. Always have and most likely always will.

There was no stopping the tears from falling down your face as you folded up his letter and put it back into the gift bag before putting the gift bag back onto your bedside table, slipping down further beneath the blanket and rolling onto your side. You didn’t watch the Bachelorette reruns, you didn’t even make it through the first episode because you spent the whole time wishing that the whole thing down in the basement never happened, because maybe if you’d read this letter before then, it would’ve made sitting down and talking it out with Matt easily possible. But it wasn’t because you were still hurt and torn between wanting to just immediately forgive him because he wrote this letter but at the same time…it still just didn’t seem real because of everything else that’s happened.

And that was all you could bounce back and forth on in your brain before ultimately crying yourself to sleep.

Which is what you would still be if it wasn’t for the loud thump that you heard coming from your window. When you first opened your eyes just barely, you saw that your TV was still on and figured that maybe it had come from whatever episode was playing. And just when you closed your eyes and started to fall back asleep…you heard another thump. Sitting up and more awake, you waited a few more moments, staring at your window to try and catch what that noise was. Only to see a snowball fly up towards your window and explode in a thump.

You checked the time, it was only a minute from seven in the morning– who in the hell would be awake at this hour or even throwing snowballs at your window? You got up, slowly walking over without turning any lights on and peeked through your sheer curtain to see a figure standing beneath your window. And the harder you looked, you recognized the dark blue winter coat– it was Matt. You moved the curtain to the side, unlocking the window and nudging it up just a little more than halfway, your heart thudding against your chest as you started to peep your head through.

And then you felt the cold snow smack against your face, the icy remnants of the snow ball turning into droplets as you exhaled and reached up to wipe the melted snow off of your face.

"Oh shit, sorry!" He called out, dropping the second snowball he had in his left hand and wiping his hands on his pajama pants.

You moved away from your window, walked towards your desk chair, and grabbed your shower towel, wiping the bits of snow and water off your face that you’d missed before walking back over and staring down at him. "What do you want?"

"Come outside."

"It's seven a.m. Matthew, the sun is barely up– no one in the neighborhood is even up yet, so why would I come outside?" You replied, crossing your arms, trying to hide how nervous you were.

He wasn’t even aware at the fact that you’d read his letter. That you knew his feelings for you and how long they’d existed. As far as he knew, you were still thinking his attempt at telling you that he loved you in the basement was a ruse and you were wanting absolutely nothing to do with him. Which, part of it was true, but only the nothing to do with him part because you were still torn on how to feel about his letter and what had happened in his apartment the morning after.

"Because I'm asking you to?" He replied, his typical sarcastic, joking tone he had. You reached up for your window, hearing him curse beneath his breath before stepping forward. "Wait y/n, don't!"

"What, Matthew?" You whispered loudly, holding onto your window, heart thudding against your chest harder as you looked down at him. "What could you possibly want from me at seven a.m. on Christmas morning, hm? It can't be to apologize, you already did that by breaking into my house, trespassing into my room and leaving a note. So if that’s what you want, then consider this me accepting your apology. And if it’s not, then it's definitely not to sleep with me because it was a one-time thing, you said it yourself– multiple times in fact. So what could you possibly want bad enough that you woke me up by pelting snowballs at my window?"

He wiped his hands against his pants again like a nervous tick as he looked away from you and down at his feet. The snow was still falling softly and you watched the snowflakes collect on his broad shoulders and lose themselves in his short curls, some falling as he subtly shifted side to side, snow crunching beneath his boots. When he finally looked up at you, you felt your heart twinge in your chest. One easy flash of his baby blues and he had you once again.

"You." He finally spoke, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "I want you."

That wasn't what you wanted to hear, but to be fair…you weren’t even sure of what you wanted to hear. Maybe it was to hear him say that he really does love you, maybe it was him retelling the moment from his letter about when he knew he loved you. Maybe it was him not even talking at all, but instead just showing you that he did, that everything in his letter was true. Just a way to help you clear out just why you were so torn up inside and so tired, so that you weren’t even sure of what you wanted or not.

But hearing him say that? That he wanted you, there were so many ways your tired heart and brain rounded up the meaning in your mind, so just as easy as his blue eyes, even from two stories down, had you wrapped around his finger again, his chosen words and reason were the knife that cut you loose. You shook your head, exhaling softly as you stepped away from your window, starting to pull it down. "Good night, Matthew."

"Y/n, wait–"

You stepped back to the window, clenching your jaw as you saw him now standing directly beneath you, shielding himself from the falling snow using the gutters along your roof. "No, Matthew, I'm not going to wait here and let my room turn into an igloo because you need to soothe your ego and apologize again. Just...go home, okay? I don't need you freezing to death on my conscience."

You backed out of his view and closed the window just enough to where he wouldn't know the difference that you had left it cracked open just a little, wanting to see if he'd still try to plead his case.

But he didn't.

Matt took a deep breath and exhaled, his warm breath fogging once it met with the cold winter air. "Merry Christmas, y/n." He spoke loud enough to where you could hear him through that small crack, followed by the sound of crunching snow beneath his feet.

And once he was gone, you closed your window the rest of the way, locked it and crawled right back into bed, to try and warm up from the cold air and maybe even fall back asleep before the smell of your parents coffee wafted up to your room, letting you know that they were awake and just waiting for you to join them downstairs. However, you were unable to fall asleep, laying in your bed for the next hour and a half before the strong aroma of coffee filled the air.

You got out of bed and over to your dresser, opening your sock drawer and grabbing yourself a pair of fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm before putting on your slippers and walking back over to your bedside table to grab your barely working phone…and also grabbed Matt’s gift bag to bring downstairs with you. You were about to walk out of your room but stopped at your closet and walked inside to grab yourself a sweatshirt since your long sleeved pajama shirt wasn’t doing you any good. A majority of your favorite and comfy sweatshirts were back in your room at your college apartment, so you were stuck with a bunch of options you’d been wanting to get rid of, contemplating just not wearing one and sucking it up…and then you saw the familiar red sweatshirt.

It was washed, dried and hanging up…ready to be given back to Matt. And you would give it back to him…just not right now because it was the only sweatshirt worthy of wearing that wasn’t too small on you or didn’t itch. So you grabbed it and draped it over your arm before walking out of your closet and then opening your bedroom door, making your way down the stairs. Today was going to be a long day, that much you knew. Every Christmas Day was always the same for as long as you could remember it.

When you were younger, Christmas morning was spent with your family, opening presents, having breakfast and enjoying each other’s company for however long it took for Brady, Matt or Taryn to come over and get you so you could all play in the show. Then you’d go back to your respective homes, wash up for the Tkachuk’s Christmas dinner party that was held at a late afternoon time, before your families would hang out for the rest of the night watching movies and playing games before going home. And your Christmases are still like that, the only difference is that none of the Tkachuk kids are coming over from across the street to ask you to play outside.

Which meant in about seven and a half hours, give or take…you’d be finding yourself in the Tkachuk’s home and around Matt, though this time there wasn’t a big crowd of partygoers to hide behind or around. It would just be your families together. Which also meant that you had the same amount of time to figure out just what you were going to say to Matt…if anything at all. But the moment you walked down the stairs and saw your parents sitting on the couch together with their coffees and greeting you with a smile, your stress about Matt was washed away. You made yourself a cup of coffee, taking the first sip and letting the peppermint creamer take over your sense as the hot coffee warmed your body before walking back into the living room, walking over to the tree and putting Matt’s present down.

“What’s that, y/n?” You mom asked, nodding at the gift bag you’d placed amongst the rest of the presents beneath the tree.

“Oh, just a present Matt dropped off last night before the party when he came to get me,” you replied, taking your seat on the far end of the sectional couch and resting his sweatshirt down next to you as you tucked your legs up beneath you. “Nothing too big.”

“I hope he’s feeling better today.” She replied, nodding. “Chantal said he missed getting your gift because he wasn’t feeling too well and fell asleep in the basement.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” your dad replied, skimming the channels for A Christmas Story. “Keith said he hadn’t eaten and was already on his fourth beer before Secret Santa. Probably just needed some food in his stomach.”

You nodded along with what he was saying as you took a long sip of your coffee, getting lost in your own thoughts as you thought back on what had happened in the basement. It went to hell, yeah, and even now looking back you could tell that Matt was nervous, panicked even as things escalated…but, and tolerance aside, maybe it was because he was drunk. And if that was the case…maybe the mistletoe thing was an accident after all instead of his own way to embarrass you like you’d thought it was despite his apologizing.

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard the doorbell ring and you took a deep breath and shook your head, exhaling. “I’ll get it.”

Your parents nodded, keeping their focus on the Christmas classic as you walked out of the living room and down towards the atrium and to the front door, unlocking it and opening it…only to not see anyone on the porch. You stepped out onto the front porch, giving you a better view of your front yard…only to see Matt standing there off to the left in snow, adjusting the St. Louis Blues beanie on top of the snowman he was standing besides head.

A snowman that looked identical to the same one you and Taryn had spent almost an hour perfecting one winter break morning when you and Brady were 12, she was 9 and Matt was 14, rightfully named Louie. Brady had gone off with Matt and his friends, deciding to play street hockey, leaving you and Taryn behind, but you two had decided to build a snowman after watching Jack Frost, hoping that maybe with a little Christmas magic, it would come to life. He already had your St. Louis Blues beanie on his head, and one of Keith’s scarves that Taryn had borrowed, and a few rocks from the bushes along the front side of the house, all you were missing was the nose. You’d both ran back inside to go and grab a carrot, coming back out to see the group of boys all huddled around and laughing at where you’d build your snowman. When you ran up, there was Louie’s head on the ground and Matt standing up with both the beanie and the puck he’d picked out from the middle of Louie’s face…in his hand. You and Taryn both spent the rest of winter break mad at Brady and Matt, no matter how many times they apologized.

Yet there Louie was, 10 years later and in all his glory…with the one who nailed the shot that ruined him in the first place, standing beside him.

Matt looked at you and even from your spot on the front porch you could see that his cheeks and nose were pink, meaning he’d been out here for quite some time. He must’ve seen the confused look on your face, because he started to walk closer to you, coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk and when you went to ask him what he was doing, he held his left index finger up against his lips.

“Y/n? Sweetie who is it?” Your mom asked, her voice barely echoing out to you on the front porch.

Matt moved what looked like a stack of white poster cards out from beneath his right arm and held them in front of him, turning them around to face you where you saw there was writing on the first one. ‘Say it’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses.’

“It’s uh…the Jehovah's Witnesses.” You called out, looking over your shoulder to make sure they weren’t coming out.

“Tell them we’re good and wish them a good day!” Your dad said, but you were already looking back  at Matt with furrowed eyebrows as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and tapped the screen, the one and only song you slow danced to with him at your senior prom, coming from the phone speakers.

So…he really hasn’t deleted it after all.

Matt moved the first card to the back of the rest. ‘I’ve spent the last eight years,’ he dropped the next card, ‘thinking about the girl who lives across the street,’ he moved the next card back, ‘With any luck, by next year’ he moved the card back, re-adjusting his grip on them. ‘Instead of just thinking about her,’ you could see how nervous he was as he moved the card again, ‘I’ll be lucky enough to call her my girlfriend.’

You hugged your arms close to you, still holding onto your coffee mug as the song kept playing and Matt rearranged the card to the back. ‘Because while life with her like this…’ he dropped the card to reveal the next one, which had a whole bunch of cut out pictures of the kids all together throughout the years, letting that card linger on before picking it up and moving it to the back of the stack. ‘Has been a whole lot of fun. I’d rather have a life like this…’ you could see him gulp as he moved the card, showing pictures of just the two of you.

From middle school dances where the two of you were standing next to each other all dressed up, you and him after his games with his number painted on your cheeks, you both after your soccer games where he (and Brady who was cut out of the picture) had your number painted on their chests from your club soccer team, parties at the country club, his draft day, his first NHL game, the two of you taking pictures for prom…and the newest additions, the pictures of the two of you from the bar, smiling and acting like it was only the two of you in the room.

He moved the card again, looking at the next one, ‘because she brings out the best in me and after all these years,’ Matt paused, exhaling heavily as he moved the card, ‘I’m finally ready to let her know how I feel.’ He was picking at the edge of the card before moving it and putting it at the back of the stack once more. ‘But for now let me say,’ he looked at you as the card dropped and you could see how nervous he was getting with every card. ‘without hope or agenda,’ he grabbed the next card moving it, ‘just because it’s Christmas–’ he moved the next card back, ‘(and at Christmas you tell the truth)’ another card moved to the back, ‘to me, there is no one else in this world as beautiful, kind and who can chirp me good…as you.’

Matt took a deep breath and exhaled again, moving onto the next card, ‘and no matter what happened before or what happens now or in the future,’ he moved the next card back, looking down at it before looking back up at you, ‘my wasted heart will love you,’ he had the same look in his eyes as he did when he was standing beneath your window earlier, and it was the same way he looked at you when the two of you were cuddling in his bed. ‘Whether you look like this,’ The next card had a bunch of pictures of you from your 14th birthday and on, each with your face covered in cake and Brady standing nearby in a full fit of laughter, the cake smash becoming his own tradition with you, though Matt only had to help clean your face off that 14th and 15th birthday, because as the years went on, you always immediately after ran after Brady for revenge.

He moved the card, ‘or like this,’ the next card had pictures of where you were normal looking, from everyday, to you mid-game, post-game, or all dressed up and you weren’t ignoring the fact that every picture was either just you, or at least you and Matt standing together. He moved the card, looking at it before looking up at you, a soft, barely there smile on his face. ‘It will always be you that my heart belongs to,’ he moved the card, holding onto both sides as it read simply, ‘Merry Christmas.’

You swallowed the knot in your throat as the song playing on his phone came to an end and you stared at Matt who hadn’t moved from his spot. This was the same boy who, when you were 8, convinced you to let him tie your loose tooth to a string and the string to the basement door because you couldn’t get it to come out and wanted tooth fairy money. Who knocked you off a tube at the lake at 13 and caused your new bikini top to snap and left you without a top in the middle of the water. At 16, he and Brady crashed your first date the week after your birthday by showing up to the same movie as you and sitting row behind you. At 20, broke your heart when you overheard him talking to Sam and saying you meant nothing to him. And at 22, when he made you realize just how stupidly in love you were with him, but had also left you feeling hurt and confused hours after.

Yet here he was…standing in front of your house, snow falling around him on Christmas morning and recreating one of your favorite scenes from one of your all-time favorite holiday movies, when he should’ve already been back inside with his family who no doubt was starting to wake up for their own Christmas traditions. And you…you were still coming off of reading his letter hours before and turning him away not even near two hours before. Your brain was fogged and whatever your heart was saying, couldn’t make it through. All you wanted to do was cry, but from whether it was his effort and him standing here and basically telling you he loves you no matter what happens or if it was because you were just so overwhelmed with hurt and confusion and your own feelings for him.

You opened your mouth to speak, your throat dry and you saw as he perked up a bit at the motion. You swallowed heavily again, licking your lips and then feeling your heart sink in your own chest as you shook your head with tears in your eyes. “Go home, Matt.”

His jaw dropped just barely as you watched his mouth turn into a frown as he sucked in his lips and nodded his head, his eyes at least the small glimpse of them that you got before he turned away, were showing the same panic and emotion they were last night in the basement when everything imploded.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” he said, looking at you one last time before tucking the posters underneath his arm and putting his phone in his pocket, turning around and moving to walk back across the street to his house.

“Merry Christmas,” you called out just barely, loud enough to where he could hear you and you knew that he could since you saw him stutter in a step before continuing to walk across the street.

You walked back into the house, closing and locking the door behind you before making your way into the living room, both of your parents back in the kitchen most likely refilling their coffees. You were cold from standing out in the winter air, so you grabbed Matt’s sweatshirt and tugged it on, even after washing it with your own detergent and fabric softener…it still had Matt’s cologne lingering around it. Instantly you felt yourself start to warm up and you made your way to the kitchen where sure enough, your parents were there making their coffees.

“That lasted quite a while,” your dad said, handing you the coffee pot.

“They were nice,” you replied, topping your mug off. “And it’s Christmas, I figured I’d let them say what they wanted to say. It has to be important if they’re walking out in this weather.”

“That was nice of you, y/n,” your mom replied, leaning against the counter. “Did you buy that when you guys were up visiting Matthew?”

You looked down at the sweatshirt, shaking your head. “Oh, no I had forgotten my jacket and Matt let me borrow it. I’m giving it back to him later today, but it’s the only sweatshirt in my closet that’s nearly as comfortable so…”

“Chantal sent me the pictures Matt had sent her of your guys night out before you flew home. Looks like you all had a lot of fun, it’s nice you guys were able to go up and visit with Matthew before coming back home. I’m sure he likes having a little piece of home up there with him.” She smiled, walking by and patting your shoulder as she walked out of the room.

You dad smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t think she and Chantal didn’t rave about that selfie of you and Matt together, because they did.” You just stayed quiet as you poured a little more creamer into your coffee and handed it off to him. “They even talked about whether or not the two of you were a secret item–”

“Dad,” you sighed, shaking your head as you stirred your coffee. “We’re not…that’s not…just, no.”

He laughed, nodding. “Oh trust me, I know and that’s what I said. You’ve been crushing on Matthew since we met the Tkachuk’s. I told her the last thing you’d do was keep it a secret.” He put the creamer away, turning back and walking by you. “But, y/n, if I know anything or remember anything from being a man in my 20’s…it’s that I can tell that boy really cares about you. You can see it in the pictures.”

“Dad–”

“I know, I know,” he replied, holding a hand up in defense. “You don’t want to hear from your old dad about love and boys, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,”  you replied as you followed him out of the kitchen and into the living room, taking your seat back onto the end of the sectional and trying your best to pay attention to the movie on the tv.

The thing was, is that even as the hours ticked by and you and your parents exchanged and opened your gifts and enjoyed each other’s company, you still couldn’t get your mind off of Matt. He was there while you helped your mom make breakfast, while you and your Dad were looking at the directions on how to build the vanity light mirror they’d bought you from IKEA. When you helped clean up wrapping paper and set aside the presents you were going to take to the Tkachuk’s later for them to open. And when your mom had changed the channel from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and onto Love Actually, you’d only made it 30 minutes into the movie before you excused yourself upstairs.

It was nearing the time where you guys were set to go over to the Tkachuk’s house, maybe in another hour or two before and you knew that there was no way you would be able to spend the rest of the night and day over at their house and around Matthew, without at least talking to him first. And as you put on your boots by the front door, you were really hating yourself for not taking the time to talk to Matt after his big grand gesture.

Because while he was the boy who did all of those things you’d listed off in your mind before he was also the same boy who at 7, hung out with you at recess because Brady was home sick and a group of boys were picking on your pigtails. At 12 when he went with your parents to watch you try out for and then celebrated with you after you made your club soccer team. At 17 he took you to your senior prom when he could’ve stayed home, simply because he didn’t want you to miss out on the experience. At 21, last year and your senior season when you tore your meniscus by the near end of the season, besides your parents, he was the first one to reach out to you to make sure you were okay, even despite your guys lack of communication before then.

And then this morning…you just felt a huge wave of guilt for sending him away like that and all you wanted to do was talk to him now, reach out and let him know how you appreciated what he did and that you read his letter…tell him and ask him if it was all true, just to make sure it really was. Because despite everything he’s done, your brain was still wanting that confirmation even if your heart knew to the core it was all true, that he meant every single word.

You stared at the side of the Tkachuk’s house, having made the walk from across the street and through the gate into their backyard. You swallowed the knot in your throat as you rolled the snowball in your hands, taking a step back and throwing it up towards his window as hard as you could and watching it hit the glass before breaking apart. When there was no immediate answer, you bent back down, picking up two more, and threw up another one, watching it smash against the glass. You waited...and waited...and you were seconds away from texting Taryn or Brady to tell Matt to go into his room...when you heard the window start to open. And you waited just a few more seconds until you saw the short curls appear through the window before you threw your last snowball, hitting Matt directly in the face.

It was hard to refrain from laughing as he spit and wiped whatever snow had remained on his face-off, then fully leaned out of his window and looked down at you. "I'm going to assume that was an accident?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Assume all you want, it was definitely payback for earlier," you smiled, leaning up on the tips of your toes and putting your hands in your...well, his sweatshirt to warm them.

He laughed, a small smile appearing on his face before it disappeared just as fast. "What are you doing here? What happened to 'thanks for the heartfelt cards and for pouring your heart out to me, but go ahead and home, Matthew'?"

"I never said thank you," you joked, feeling even more nervous when you saw him sigh and shake his head, clearly still upset about you sending him home earlier.

Matt leaned further out his window, his arms resting on the sill. "You know, it took me a lot to do that...make you that snowman and then stand on your front porch, pouring my feelings out on those posters like that scene from Love Actually– which, I had to beg the old lady at the art store to let me in so I could buy them last night. Not just because of the time it took, but because I was terrified of letting you know how I feel."

"You know me, y/n. When have I ever been the guy who ever blatantly puts his feelings out there like that? I'm no open book, I know that...but I wanted to be for you." He motioned down at you, some snow falling off the window sill. "And you just let me stand there, thinking that I even had the slither of a chance of making things right with you or-or even getting to be with you for more than just a night, and then you just say 'go home, Matthew' and leave it at that."

You nodded, your hands fiddling together in the sweatshirt pocket as you nodded again. "I know."

"So why are you here, then?" He asked, looking as hurt as you felt leaving his apartment three days earlier. "I apologized for what happened, I told you how I really felt and then some. Plus, you already shut me down, so what else is there?"

You were starting to understand why he looked so nervous when he had been in your very shoes only seven hours earlier. It was scary standing here, out in the open and thinking of all the words you wanted to say as he looked at you, only for them to get stuck in your throat. It was even worse when you could see just how upset and hurt he was about your reaction to his grand gesture, and that hurt you.

Because honestly...you loved it. You loved that instead of going home like you told him to the first time, he stayed outside in your front yard and tried so hard to recreate the snowman he and his friends decapitated and destroyed with a puck. He sat on your front porch, shielding himself from the snow, and wrote down his own feelings on poster cards, recreating one of your favorite scenes from one of your favorite holiday movies. He put forth the effort to show you how much he cared about you, he was honest with you– he'd been nothing but honest with you since the moment he told you his own feelings about the night you two spent together both in his apology letter and on those poster cards.

How he's loved you for years but was too scared to ever act on it or show it.

Matt's heavy sigh broke you out of your thoughts and you looked back up at him to see him shaking his head. "Go home, y/n. I've already got enough on my conscience regarding you and I really don't need you freezing to death or catching pneumonia to be another."

When you saw him disappear from the opening of the window, your body panicked and the knot in your throat tightened as you stepped closer to the house. "Did you mean it?" You called out, voice quivering from both the cold and your own nerves.

"What?" He asked, appearing back out of the window.

"Did you mean it?" You repeated, swallowing heavily as you forced yourself to keep looking at him. "What you said in your letter…an-and when you said this morning that you wanted me...did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"And you meant it in the way where we're together...right?" You felt your nerves start to overtake you, the words and thoughts in your mind running a million miles a second. "Not just like, sleeping together, o-or being good friends, but actually being together. Me flying up to Calgary for games, being your date to team parties a-and events?"

"Y/n–"

"Because if that is what you meant, if you want me to come up to Calgary to visit for a week or two, to show me around town o-or post cute pictures on Instagram with captions like 'you're the cheese to my macaroni' or something–" the knot in your throat kept tightened as you played with your hands, trying to push through what you wanted to say as you took a deep breath and exhaled. "Because if that is what you want...then I want you too, Matt."

It was like a big weight lifted off of your chest the moment you finally got the words out, exhaling a big breath of relief as you waited for his reply. Except his face had never changed– it remained neutral. He never showed a slither or a crack in his demeanor and it worried you. And before you could say another word, Matt left the window and you heard it shut.

Now you were really beginning to understand how he felt this morning and you hated yourself for ever sending him away the first or the second time. You sucked your lips in, nodding your head before turning to your left and making your way away from Matt's window and out through the Tkachuk's backyard fence, leaving their side yard behind you. You closed the gate, turned back around, and carefully stepped out of the grass and onto the Tkachuk's driveway, not wanting to damage it anymore than the snow and winter already had.

"You're the cheese to my macaroni? That's the caption you'd go with?" You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Matt standing on the front porch, standing on the top step, dressed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, looking like he had just shoved on any pair of shoes because he wasn't wearing boots– but running shoes and they didn’t even match.

"Your nickname is Chucky...which, when I hear it I think of Chuck-E-Cheese," you replied, fiddling with your hands in the sweatshirt pocket as he started walking towards you. "Plus, everyone in the hockey world calls you a rat, right? So...cheese to my macaroni."

You swallowed heavily as you watched his face carefully for a reaction, your heart thudding against your chest when you saw him contemplate your reasoning as he came to a stop in front of you. He still had that neutral look on his face as he held his hands in his sweatshirt pocket and just looked at you.

"Um...so I totally understand if you probably hate me for making you go home twice–"

"Y/n–"

"And what happened last night, because I would be really mad at myself too. I-I mean you're totally right, you know? You just," you huffed, waving your hands at him before letting them drop by your sides. "You do the whole romantic thing, spill your feelings for me in the 20-degree weather and what do I do? I tell you to go home and I'm so sorry, Matt I swear–"

Matt laughed, crossing his arms. "Y/n–"

"But it wasn't because I didn't appreciate what you did or that I don't feel the same way, because I do. I just needed time to think, because hello, I mean this is like my childhood dream coming true that you said you love me and I just find it really hard to believe that you like me like that too, y'know? And maybe it's too late of me to tell you I want you too and that I still love you and never stopped, but–"

"Y/n!" He laughed again, this time gaining your attention.

You looked up from the shoveled-out driveway, a pout on your face. "Yeah?"

He stepped closer to you, cupping your head and tilting it up slightly so you were looking right at him. His right hand moved closer towards your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin and then your bottom lip as his eyes stayed focused on your lips before he finally looked into your eyes, laughing softly and smiling. "I love you too."

"Rea–"

His mouth pressed against yours in a searing kiss before you could even question it and it was a kiss that made your knees immediately go weak, even more so than the first kiss you shared outside of the bar in the very same weather. And just like the kiss at the bar, this one warmed you to the core the moment his lips touched yours. You pulled your hands out of the sweatshirt pocket and grabbed onto the front of his sweatshirt in hopes that you wouldn't fall and kissed him back, standing up on your toes to bring yourself as close to him as possible.

Which turned out to be a horrible idea, because it wasn't the kiss that made you feel like you were getting swept off your feet, it was the thin sheet of ice that was hidden beneath the light layer of snow in the Tkachuk's driveway sending you and Matt down to the concrete.

"Oomph," He groaned, his arms now wrapped around you tightly and holding you against him when the two of you started falling. "Ow."

"Oh my God, are you okay?" You asked, resting your hands on his chest as you sat yourself up.

"I guess my big ass is good for something," he laughed, looking at you. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but are you okay? Did you break your tailbone? Or your back? Did you hit your head?"

 You reached behind you and pinched his thigh. "Can you feel that?"

Matt rolled his eyes, laughing. "Yes, I can feel that, and no I didn't hit my head or any of those other things. At least now I can say that I totally swept you off your feet or that you wanted me so bad that you tackled me in my own driveway."

"Whatever, Ratthew," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Hey," he pouted, pulling you closer. "My girlfriend can't call me Ratthew."

"You have a girlfriend?" You asked, looking around before looking back down at him. "I don't see her anywhere."

He rolled his eyes again, getting what you were saying. "Y/n, will you–"

"Um, not to ruin the moment or anything, but we totally got that on camera," Brady called out, gaining your and Matt's attention as he stood on the front porch, pointing at the camera hanging just above the garage. "Oh, and you guys should probably get up and get changed or something because y/n's parents are coming over in an hour."

"Thanks, Brady." You said, giving him a 'now please go away' look, only for him to laugh and give you two thumbs up before walking back inside of the house. You sighed, looking back at Matt before moving off of him and slowly standing yourself up. "I should probably get home so I can get showered and change before coming over."

Matt held his hands out for you to grab and help pull him up, standing firmly on his feet as he pouted. "But–"

"I'll see you in an hour," you leaned in and kissed him, pulling away just as quick. "And I'll have your Christmas gift with me."

"Y/n?" He called out, trying to peek over your backyard fence. When he didn't get a reply, he walked towards the door, getting ready to bend down and pick up the latch key that was beneath a rock, when he noticed that it was already propped open. "Y/n? You there?"

Without another reply, he sighed and pushed the gate door open, closing it behind him and walking further into the backyard. "So you come over for Christmas dinner, slip your panties in my back pocket," he closed the gate behind him, still talking out loud. "In front of our parents, may I add. And I can't decide if that was hot or if I was scared shitless that one of them would see and well...could you imagine that rest of the awkward Christmas dinner?"

After the kiss in his parent’s driveway, he’d gone back inside only to be greeted by a smug looking Brady. If he was being honest, after you’d sent him home after his recreation of the scene from Love Actually, he thought that after last night, there was absolutely nothing more he could do to try and apologize or convince you that he was sorry and that he really did, truly love you. That after that, you most likely wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

And sitting through opening presents and breakfast and helping set up for the dinner later, he’d spent those last few hours before you threw snowballs at his bedroom window, trying to convince himself that nothing was going to happen between you both anymore, that he needed to start to try and talk himself out of loving you– though he knew that that was going to be nearly impossible.

Until you came and threw that first snowball. He thought he might’ve been seeing things, that you weren’t really standing beneath his window, but when he started talking and you talked back, he knew it was really you. He was still hurt, but seeing you standing there rambling and then when you asked him if he had meant everything he’d said and that if he did, then you wanted him too– he knew that this was finally his one chance to have this conversation face to face.

He didn’t regret shutting the window on you, he didn’t regret meeting you outside, because for the first time since that morning after your night together, he got to talk to you and yeah, you were nervous, but he knew it was for good reason and it was one of the things he loved most about you, your nervous rambling. And then you said it– you said that you still loved him and that you never stopped– and he knew everything he needed to, and for the first time since you were asleep in his bed, he told you that he loved you.

And the kiss was even better than the first one the two of you shared behind the bar. He never wanted to stop kissing you, and swore up and down in his mind that he could probably spend the rest of the day doing so. But then it came time for you to go home and he waited anxiously until you and your parents came over.

When you did, he saved no expense greeting you with a hug and then a kiss to the cheek, not wanting your families to ask a million questions about why he kissed you on the lips if he’d done so. Throughout the whole time before dinner and then dinner itself, it was like a dream. You’d sat next to him and beneath the table he’d rested his hand on your leg and you’d placed your hand on top of his, linking your fingers through his. He couldn’t believe it himself how you’d both gone from fighting in the basement only not even 24 hours earlier, to professing your love for each other and holding hands beneath the table.

You’d excused yourself to the bathroom sometime right at the end of dinner and he was in the living room with everyone to set up games when you came walking back in and stood next to him, sliding your hand into his back pocket, the same one you’d done the same exact thing at the bar. You’d told your parents you’d be right back and forgot something at the house, but not to hold anything up. He later went to help his mom clean up the kitchen as you left and when he found a spare moment, he’d dug his hand into his pocket and partially pulled out the lacey red thong out of his pocket, a small folded piece of paper falling to the floor. He quickly shoved the underwear back into his pocket and bent down, picking up the paper and unfolded it to see your handwriting.

‘Meet me in my backyard <3’

Matt excused himself, saying that you’d sent him a text asking if he could help grab the gifts for Taryn and Brady she’d forgotten and left his own house, which brought him right here to your backyard. He sighed, reaching the corner of your house and rounding it where you were nowhere to be found. The only sign of life in your backyard was some light coming from your old treehouse. With no other option, he made his way towards the treehouse he hadn't been in since he was 17 and started to climb up the wooden ladder, feeling it creak in age with every step he took. When he reached the top, he pulled himself up onto the deck and walked towards the door, your old blue beaded curtain still hanging outside of the sliding door.

It still looked like he remembered it– posters you took from those teen magazines taped to the wall, string lights hung up all around, ottoman storage, a hammock chair hanging from the ceiling, small bookshelves in the corner overfilled with books and some bean bags. It was a place he knew more often than not, was where he could find you and Brady any summer day, despite the no boys allowed sign nailed just right beside the door.

The treehouse was your childhood safe haven and Matt felt lucky any time you let him step into it.

"Y/n?" He called out again, trying to look in through the windows but the old string lights didn't have much juice left.

"What? Did you forget the secret knock and password?' You replied, still out of sight from him.

Matt rolled his eyes, knocking five times before taking a small pause and knocking two more times. "Girls go to college to get more knowledge," he sighed, trying not to laugh at the old rhyme and picturing him and Brady saying it every time they wanted to come into the treehouse. "Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider."

"Password accepted," he could tell you were smiling, just by the one of your voice. "Doors unlocked."

"If the door’s unlocked, then why did I have to knock and say the password?" He huffed, grabbing the handle and sliding the door open.

"'Cause I wanted to see if you remembered. Oh, and to hear you say that I'm basically smarter than you."

He rolled his eyes again, his back to you as he closed the door and turned around for the first time, eyes widening and jaw-dropping the moment he saw you. "Y/n..."

"What?" You asked, your head propped up by your elbow as you laid across the bunch of blankets you'd strewn on the treehouse floor. "Too much?"

He blinked once...twice...three times, still trying to digest the fact that you were laying in your childhood treehouse wearing nothing but a red sweater romper that looked more like a half-sheer bodysuit with the same plunging neckline like the one he remembered you wearing that night at the bar, only this one had tiny buttons going up the neckline.

"I uh...I mean...it's hot." He finally choked out, clearing his throat. "I don't...are we going to...?"

"Have sex in my childhood treehouse? No," you laughed, standing up and turning around, showing off the cheeky cut back as you grabbed a pair of old soccer shorts and his Calgary sweatshirt you never gave back, putting them on and turning back around, a smile on your face as you shrugged. "I mean...not yet, but that really all depends."

Matt swallowed heavily, finally looking up from where he'd been staring at your ass. "On?"

You grabbed the old soccer ball that was propped up by the bookshelf and walked up to him, spinning the ball in your hands as you smiled and walked by. "On whether or not you can score three goals on me."

"Wait!" He followed after you, giving you space as you climbed back down the latter before going down himself, skipping the last few steps and jumping down onto the ground. "That's it? I score three goals and then we just...have sex in the treehouse?"

"I don't know...unless you can think of anything else you want to wager?" You smiled, spinning the ball around again.

He knew what you were getting at, he could see it in your eyes and the playfulness in your wager and in your smile. "What happens if you score three goals on me?"

"You get your sweatshirt back and we have sex in the treehouse."

"And I get to choose what goes for if I win?" He asked, stepping closer towards you, looking at the ball in your hands.

"Mhhm."

"Well in that case," he grabbed the ball from you mid toss, holding it in his own hands and nodding at the goal set up behind you, half the set. "I score three goals on you...we go on a date tomorrow morning before I leave."

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to the side. "That's it?"

"Mhhm, and at the end I'll ask you whether or not you want to be my girlfriend...though I'm hoping you'll say yes." he smiled, spinning the ball in his hands and dropping it to the ground, placing his foot on top of it. "Unless you really want to have sex with me in the treehouse...then we can add that in too."

The laugh that came from you was the first genuine laugh he felt like he'd heard in years. The one that you smiled so big it reached your eyes and the way your laugh traveled so lightly and effortlessly through the air, echoing in his ears– a sound he'd never get tired of.

"The sex is totally optional. I just thought I'd appease to your mind since you so clearly enjoyed the last time we did it."

"Okay, added wager," he tilted his head to the side, egging you to take his bet. "I score four goals and we have sex in the treehouse."

You shrugged, a smile on your face. "You couldn't even score one on me when you were 15 and back then I wasn't nearly half as good at 13 as I am now. So you're on."

"You don't think I've upped my skills in the last nine years?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not unless one of your many abundant hook-ups was also an avid soccer player, no." You laughed, crossing your arms. "And pre-game soccer doesn't count for–"

Matt nudged by you, kicking the ball ahead of him and going for one hard kick, sending the ball directly into your net before turning around, his stupid, cocky smirk on his face. "Only three more to go."

You glared at him, walking over and taking the ball, dropping it down between you. "You cheated."

"You never said there were any rules," he laughed, his warm breath fogging once it met the cold air. "Besides, since when have you ever played by or even with rules?"

"You know what?" You smiled, putting your foot on the ball. "You're right." Before he could say another word, you nudged the ball behind you and spun around, kicking it further ahead and running after it, Matt stuttering in his step before he was running after you, but it was too late. You'd already scored.

"So we're playing like that?" He laughed, huffing as he rested his hands on his hips and you grabbed the ball from the back of the net, walking back towards him with a smile.

"We're playing like that." You replied, getting as close to him as you could, keeping the ball between you before holding it up and then dropping it down onto the ground. "1-1."

It started out like how the two of you used to play when you were younger– there were no rules, no hesitance to try and trip each other up, use your elbows to nudge and shove the other away, or even accidentally kick a shin or step on a foot. It didn't take long for either of you to score another goal each, tying it once more at 2-2 and the next goal would be winning the bet.

Once you scored the second goal to tie him again, the atmosphere had shifted. You could see that he was playing harder, automatically making you try and step up your game to match his energy. It had started snowing lightly and your guys' clothes were nowhere near warm enough to keep you guys from freezing the moment your adrenaline stopped pumping through your bodies...but neither of you cared because you were too lost in playing a game that made it feel like you two were back at a time when things were so much simpler.

He tripped himself up with the ball, knocking it loose and giving you the chance to seize your opportunity. Lost in that competitive mode, you didn't waste it, immediately running after the ball and kicking it into the top right corner, scoring your third goal and winning.

3-2...you'd won the bet.

Yet when you turned around to rub it in his face, your smile fell once you saw him standing there, hands on his hips and trying to catch his breath, not even the playful smirk on his face he'd had all game.

"3-2," you said, picking up the ball and walking over to him. "I win."

"Yeah, you do," he nodded, letting his arms fall down by his sides before reaching out and grabbing your hand and starting to walk you to the treehouse. "And a bet's a bet so let's go–"

"Hold on," you took your hand out of his, stopping him from tugging you away, and looked at him with furrowed brows. "What's your problem? This was fun, wasn't it? Just like old times."

"I mean, sure I guess," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But I lost, so it's not the best time for me right now."

Somewhere in the middle of your guys' game, maybe when the atmosphere had shifted and Matt started to play harder, the bet had changed. It became serious to him while you saw it as something playful, something fun. A thing to knock off your high school bucket list now that you had the chance...but to him, it was more. You made your bet as a joke. You never intended on giving him his sweatshirt back and the whole sex in the treehouse was just a way to finally cross off the item from your high school bucket list senior year. But his bet...his was real, it actually meant something and you realized that he only added the treehouse in as a buffer– to keep the mood light and funny.

This was never a game.

When his movement in the snow caught your attention, you saw him start to walk back towards the treehouse, his back to you. "Hey!" You said, walking a few steps forward as he turned around. You dropped the ball onto the snow and kicked it over, a small smile on your face. "Double or nothing."

He stopped the ball with his foot, looking at you. "Same bet?"

You nodded, stuffing your hands into the sweatshirt pockets. "We'll keep the scores...just bump it up to four this time."

Matt kicked the ball back over to you, your heart dropping for only a moment before he walked over to you, following after the ball and stopping just in front of you. "3-2?"

"Yep," you nodded, taking your hands out of the sweatshirt pocket. "3-2."

He sucked in his lips, nodding his head before kicking the ball just beside you and kicking the ball straight ahead of him into the goal, turning around and kicking and keeping the ball in front of him as he walked towards you, shrugging. "3-3. Next point wins."

"First to four," you replied, sighing as he came to a stop in front of you. "Ready?"

"Are you?"

Instead of replying, you went to steal the ball, kicking it out from beneath his feet but getting trapped as he held onto your arms to keep you from moving forward as you both tried to get some kind of control on the ball. You got an arm free, managing to turn yourself around and bump against him in an effort to distract and grab the ball. Instead, he grabbed your hips, keeping you pressed against him as he ducked his head down towards your ear.

"Nice try, but it won't work." He whispered, wrapping his left arm around your waist and picking you up, moving you off to the side as he held you and lazily kicked the ball far enough away before he let go of you and went after it.

You ran hard, barely catching up to him and grabbing onto the sleeve of his sweater when he kicked the ball, the kick looking like it might veer off just a little left...but hitting the back of the net and barely missing the post.

"GOALLLLL!" He yelled, throwing his arms up in the air and running around, snow kicking up as he ran in circles around you.

You laughed, shaking your head. "So what you're telling me is that you're a sore loser?"

"No," he stopped, breathing heavily as he started walking towards you. "I just hate losing. And this was one bet I really wanted to win."

"So," you sighed, letting your arms fall to your sides. "You won the bet. What now?"

Still trying to catch his breath, you watched as his eyes moved from your lips and back to your eyes...again and again and again, until they settled just over your shoulder, a smile on his face. "I think I know a good place to start."

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked over your left shoulder to see what he was looking at, only to see the treehouse. "Men," you snorted, shaking your head and looking back at him.

 "They're so predict–"

He closed the distance between you, his hands brushing up your shoulders before cupping both sides of your face and pressing his mouth against yours, catching you off-guard by the unexpected kiss, but nonetheless sending your nerves into overdrive as you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into you so your chests were pressed together.

You pulled away, breathless from both his fervent kiss and still trying to recover from your game of soccer, and looked up at him, seeing the tiny snowflakes falling just on top of his hair and a few, every so often landing on his long lashes. "Ask me," you breathed out, your hands gripping onto the back of his sweater. "Ask me to be your girlfriend now, you don't need to wait for the end of a date– because I'm going to say yes."

Matt laughed, his thumbs brushing against your red-tinged cheeks as he smiled at you before poking out his bottom lip and shaking his head. "Nah, I think I'll wait for the date...maybe not even then. I think I've got something special planned up already."

"That's not fair," you pouted. "I didn't play in the freezing cold out here to be your girlfriend, just for you to go back on the bet and wait."

"Why don't you ask me what I have planned first and then decide," he laughed, squishing your cheeks together. "Dork."

"Fine," you sighed heavily, playfully rolling your eyes as you unwrapped your arms from around him and he held your hand. "What do you have planned, Matthew?"

He smiled, squeezing your hand as he led you over to the treehouse. "I can't tell you, it's a surprise."

"Matty," you groaned, lolling your head back as you came to a stop by the ladder.

"It's a surprise," he replied, nudging you up the ladder to climb, him following right behind you. "But I can give you at least one hint."

"And what's that?" You asked, reaching the deck of the treehouse and walking towards the door, waiting for Matt to climb all the way up and meet you.

He walked over, resting his hands on your hips and leaning you against the door, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. "Don't make any plans for New Year's Eve."

"Why?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Something special happening that day?"

"Very," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you softly before reaching down and opening the door to the treehouse and walking you both inside. "And right now you're about to get a little sneak peek."

You laughed, holding onto him as he kicked the door softly behind him, shutting it and then lowering you down onto the blankets you'd layered on the ground, your fingers in his shortened curls as you laughed into the kiss, pulling back and resting yourself up onto your elbows.

"Little?" You laughed, a smirk on your face. "Blaming the lighting already, Matty?"

Matt plopped himself down on top of you, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head, using his left hand to keep them there as his right moved down to your sides, tickling you. "Take it back," he laughed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

"Fine, fine," you huffed, squirming beneath him and barely able to move. "I take it back."

"Good," he replied, his hand sliding the sweatshirt you were wearing up your body before using both hands to take it off, revealing the red romper you were wearing. "Did you buy this for me?"

"No, but will it make you feel better if I said yes?" You laughed, leaning yourself back up onto your elbows. "I know the male ego is fragile."

He rolled his eyes. "Haha, very funny. And no, I don't care if you didn’t buy it for me," he replied, ducking his head down to your jaw and kissing down your neck and towards your collarbones, going over every mark you had covered with make-up like he memorized where he'd made them. "Because I'm the one that's taking it off."

You reached down towards the waistband of your sweatpants, nudging them down and using your feet to kick them off, leaving you in nothing but the cheeky romper before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him back down towards you. "Merry Christmas, Matty." You whispered, thumbs brushing against the nape of his neck.

"Merry Christmas, y/n," he replied, kissing you feverishly before pulling back, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he looked into your eyes, his left hand brushing against your cheek before moving up and tucking hair behind your ear. "Best Christmas ever."

"Just wait until New Year's Eve then," you replied, bumping your nose up against his. "I hear that might be pretty special."

"You have no idea."

Matty 🐭❤️: Left for morning skate, be back in a little bit. But enjoy breakfast on me! 😘

Y/n: Got it! 🥰

After sending the picture of the taped delivery bag of the cafe down the street that you’d just received from the door dash delivery person minutes before, you put your phone down on the counter and ripped the sealed sticker open, peering inside to see a plastic container and a paper wrap. You reached in and pulled both of them out, restingYou resting them on the counter. You could see inside the paper wrap was a slice of the pumpkin bread and when you opened up the container, you saw an omelet with a side of toast inside. And in the drink holder, you could tell he ordered both a coffee for you and a small orange juice.

You grabbed the food and the drink container, walking over to the couch in the living room and sitting down, continuing to watch the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episode that you’d started when you were woken up by Matt’s text and interrupted only ten minutes in when the door dash delivery came. There were still solo cups both regular sized and shot glass sized all over the kitchen table and throughout the kitchen and on the counter, New Years Eve decorations hanging up, some halfway thanks to the rowdiness of the boys when it came to leave for the official Flames team party.

A party, to which the boys were all very careful not to get too drunk considering they had a pretty big game today, but still loosened up enough to have fun and make it a memorable night. But it was a little more memorable for both you and Matt than anything else. When you flew out to Calgary five days earlier, it was the first time you were doing so just by yourself and as more than y/n, his neighbor across the street and girl he’s known since he was a kid. You weren’t officially dating, but you weren’t ‘just y/n,’ anymore.

After the two of you had had sex in your treehouse, you’d rejoined the party, coming back with gift bags that were stuffed with random things from your room as cover up gifts for Taryn and Brady– the two of them even going as far into the ploy to take the fake gifts up to their rooms– and went on with your night. Matt had snuck over to your house later that night and the two of you just fell asleep in your bed just like you’d done nights earlier at his apartment in Calgary. Only the next morning, he snuck back out of your house before your parents woke up and kissed you goodbye, promising to come over a few hours later for your date.

He did. And he rang your doorbell and picked you up, your mom being the one to answer the door as your rushed down the stairs complete with the red gift bag holding your new phone and then your mom and Matt standing just inside the door, both looking at you with a smile.

You whined softly, shaking your head as you reached the last step. “Mom, please don’t–”

“I’m not saying anything,” she said, holding up her hands in defense. “Just…let me get a picture really quick and then you can go.”

You were embarrassed as you stood next to Matt, so easily able to fit into his side as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “This is so embarrassing…”

“It’s fine,” he whispered, pulling you more into his side and kissing the top of your head.

“So cute, you two,” your mom smiled, seemingly taking the picture without the two of you noticing. “Now just one more and then you’re free to go.”

“Del, they’re not teens going off to prom anymore, let them go,” your dad said, walking into the atrium.

“Thanks, Dad,” you sighed, knowing it was no use as you and Matt smiled for your mom’s picture before she put the phone down.

“Now Matthew, I don’t think I need to give you a speech–”

“And we’re leaving, bye!” You said, turning Matt towards the door as he opened it.

“She’ll be home in a bit, I have to fly out anyway,” Matt laughed, the two of you walking out of the house and closing the door behind you before draping an arm over your shoulders. “Why do I have the inkling feeling that your mom is going to not only send that picture to mine, but probably go over so they can gossip about it in person?”

“Because that’s exactly what she’s going to do,” you sighed, leaning into his side. “But come on, I believe you said you were going to take me on a date where you may or may not ask me a very important question at the end– which, by the way, my answer hasn’t changed from what I told you I would say if you did ask that question.”

The two of you stopped by your phone provider to transfer everything over from your old phone to your new one and then went to breakfast downtown. Pushing the time, the both of you walked around downtown hand in hand for the first time before eventually, you had to make your way home and you dropped him off at the airport and watched him walk his way through security…but not before he asked if you’d fly up to Calgary in two days to spend time with him up there and even join in with the New Years Eve and New Years Days festivities.

Meaning when you flew up here and got to see him play two games, it was also the first time that you were there to support him at his games and mingle amongst the other WAGs as well, whatever you were. You were already familiar with most of them, especially after the last few years of attending the team Christmas parties– so they were thrilled to see you back in Calgary when normally you didn’t come back once Matt flew home for Christmas. They all pressed for what happened over the few days break and what changed and you told them all that you could and when Matt met you after the games, the two of you would talk and laugh on the ride back to his apartment about how everyone on both sides were pressing you for answers.

But the only one who actually knew the answer to their most popular question– ‘Are you guys dating?’– was Matt and he meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to ask you that question until you least expected it.

Because the last thing you expected was for Matt to break away from your New Years kiss to ask you to be his girlfriend, just seconds into the New Year and barely waiting for you to say yes before he kissed you again.

Your first kiss as an official couple.

And, of course when the party ended, the two of you took an uber back to his apartment and ended up in the same predicament that landed you two in those tense few days in the first place. Only this time, when you woke up, there was no panicking about just what would happen or what he would think when he found out and definitely no trying to sneak out of his apartment unnoticed. This time, you woke up early in the morning where Matt was coming back from going to the bathroom and climbed back into bed, immediately pulling you into him and kissing  you before you curled against his side.

“This is sort of like a deja vu isn’t it?” He mumbled, lazily rubbing his hand up and down your left thigh.

“Which part?” You laughed softly, looking up at him. “The sex or the laying in your bed half asleep?”

“Both.”

“Deja vu is when you know you haven’t experienced something before, but your brain is tricking you into thinking you have,” you replied, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Which, you’ve definitely experienced both of this before. I was there.”

“Whatever dork.” He rolled his eyes as his left hand brushed against your hair. “I got you a jacket to wear today.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him. “What?”

“Mer was in charge of the jackets, she got them from a woman here locally and I texted Johnny to ask Mer if there was any chance the woman could make a last minute one for you to wear and she was able to.” He lolled his head towards you, a smile on his face. “So…you have a jacket to wear with my number on it.”

Your face scrunched as you tried not to smile. “You mean now everyone’s going to know I’m dating you? Imagine what that will do to my image.”

He rolled his eyes again and brushed hair down into your face as you laughed. “God maybe this was a mistake. Should’ve just let you wear a sweatshirt.”

“No, no, I’m only kidding Matty,” you smiled, nudging yourself closer to him before leaning and and kissing his neck before laying your head down on the pillow he was using and bringing your hand up and resting it on the left side of his face, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “I would love and be honored to wear your number on a jacket. Though I think my soccer number is much, much better.”

“Eh, 8’s okay. But too bad that one’s already taken,” he shrugged, his right arm wrapping around your waist. “Besides, you look better in 19.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait till later today to see if that’s true,” you smiled, leaning in and kissing him. Matt tugged you over on top of him, moving his hands down to your hips, causing you to smile into the kiss before pulling away. “You’ve got a pretty big game today, you might want to save that energy for the ice, hm?”

“I should,” Matt smiled, fanning his fingers across your back. “So how do you feel about giving me that good luck present just a little bit early?”

You’d finished your breakfast, threw the leftovers away and sat back down on the couch to finsih your coffee when you heard the key in the door of the apartment and then the door open, Matt walking inside, looking down at his phone. “Y/n, you up?” Matt called out, turning around to close the door.

“Maybe if you weren’t looking at your phone, you might’ve seen me sitting here on the couch,” you laughed, bringing the coffee cup up to your lips as you sighed. “Kids these days and their cellphones. They’re so attached.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he replied, walking down the short hall and tossing his keys on the kitchen table. “I was texting my Mom who was wondering if it was okay to come over for a bit, that way you guys can all leave for the arena together.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” You replied, moving the blanket from next to you so he could sit down.

“Hm, maybe because it looks like there was a party here last night?” He replied, sitting down and draping his right arm over your shoulder.

“Oh right, I guess there kind of was,” you replied, the both of you looking around at the scattered party favors. “Plus there’s the other thing.”

“Other thing?” He asked, looking back at you before widening his eyes and then smiling. “Oh yeah, the other thing.” He sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled. “Yeah, we should most definitely clean up before they come over.”

“Mhhm, quite a bit needs to be cleaned,” you nodded, putting your coffee cup down onto the table and then slowly climbing onto his lap, draping your arms over his shoulders and your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck. “The kitchen table, the back counter, the coffee table, we should definitely do something with the couch.”

“The couch?” He asked, hands rubbing up beneath the Flames sweatshirt of his you were wearing…and only wearing besides the underwear. “We didn’t–” He paused as you raised an eyebrow and moved forward on his lap just slightly, then he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, the couch too.”

“Okay, so we’ll definitely clean up” you replied, kissing his cheek and then kissing along his jaw and down to his neck as your hands grabbed onto the bottom of his shirt. “But not until after I give you a sneak-peek of what you’ll be missing out on after games once I go back to school.”

Matt’s hands slid into your underwear, fingers fanned out across your ass. “I think I might have an idea.”

You’ve seen Matt play before, you weren’t new to watching him take the ice while thousands of fans cheered him and the rest of the Flames on. Despite only attending games at the Saddledome more than a handful of times, you still knew your way around and felt comfortable amongst the fans and staff. But this wasn’t another simple NHL game. This was different. Because while you have been to any other game the Flames have played…you’d yet to experience a Battle of Alberta game.

Which coincidentally was today…and it was also the NHL Winter Classic. It was rare enough for one Canadian team to play in the classic, let alone two– so the hype around the game and then it being a big rivalry was elevated by one hundred percent. The game was being played in Calgary at McMahon Stadium, an outside stadium just a ten or so minute drive from Matt’s apartment and despite it being in Calgary, you were surprised to see just as many Oilers fans as you did Flames fans.

But still, the atmosphere was just as energetic and chaotic as any game you’d been to in the Saddledome from the moment the players took the ice for warm-ups. And of course, while you and his parents and Taryn did spend some time watching the team warm up on the ice, you were grilled about the black jean jacket you were wearing that had Calgary stitched across the front, along with the Flames logo and the Canadian flag patched on one sleeve, while the other had Matt’s 19 patch and then on the back, of course, was the big 19 patch and his last name across your shoulders.

And it dawned on you that while Brady and Taryn weren’t unaware of what had taken place between the both of you, no one but Matt’s teammates and their significant others knew that the two of you were officially dating. At least not until you caved in and told them after Taryn had joked about that being the reason why Matt wouldn’t let them come over earlier, because the two of you were “doing boyfriend and girlfriend things.” Which was completely embarrassing because you couldn’t even try to lie.

Even when the news was out, nothing felt that different as the game went on. As you sat with Matt’s family and the rest of the friends and families of the Flames players, also surrounded by fans, you didn’t feel like you were a girlfriend supporting her boyfriend in one of the biggest games so far of the season. You felt like you were that same girl who’d grown up alongside Matt and cheered him on throughout every stage of his career and you were thankful for that. Because the last thing that you wanted for your guys' extremely new relationship, was for things to change from what they had previously been.

 Even better, was that Matt and the Flames were on fire through the entire first period scoring three goals against Calgary’s defense, Matt scoring two of them at the beginning and the end of the period which had Keith joking that maybe the two of you should have started dating earlier and Matt would’ve been playing this good from the beginning of his career.

However, the bliss didn’t seem to last. The Flames were still hot the first half of the second period, but in the second half, the Oilers scored two unanswered goals, one on a power play thanks to a penalty drawn by Barrie that Sam fell victim to. But still, the energy of the Flames fans didn’t die down because with one period left and some of the best hockey they’ve played this season, there was still a big high hope for them to pull out a Winter Classic and Battle of Alberta win.

The third period was rough for both sides. Just when you thought that Calgary had a chance to score, Edmonton’s defense would pull a miracle out of their asses and prevent it– and the same for Calgary. It was a constant back and forth, until Koskinen, when trying to pass the puck off of the boards to one of his own players, ended up passing it to Matt, who immediately took the shot and scored to give the Flames a 4-2 lead, and his second career hat trick. You lost it in the stands as the wave of hats were flying in the air down towards the ice, but not quite making it there since the rink itself was distanced from the fans' seats.

But the joy didn’t last long, because the next shift, the Oilers scored on an intercepted pass and closed the gap by one goal. And it stayed that way as the clock ticked down to the final minute. Both teams were skating hard and everyone was on the edge of their seats as the final seconds ticked down and Edmonton had the puck and was trying to score. A hit by Rasmus let the puck loose and you saw Lindholm take control and pass it just ahead of Matt who was skating to reach for it, beating out McDavid, and just when he got it and went to skate and reassess who was around, Matt blew a tire and fell on the ice. And because he’s Connor fucking McDavid it was no surprise to anyone when he swooped in for the puck and immediately shot it top shelf over Markstrom.

Tying the game 4-4 just as the clock ran out.

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t even twenty seconds into overtime when the Oilers scored again off of the puck ricocheting off of Markstrom’s pads– ending the game 5-4.

It was absolutely devastating watching and hearing the Edmonton fans cheer loudly for their teams win and even more so seeing the deflated Flames players shake hands with their number one rival before saluting their fans and then one by one making their way off of the ice. Your gaze was glued to Matt the moment you saw him fall on the ice and part of you was wishing that it was the loss of a skate blade that made him fall, because that would make it seem a lost less worse than it was…but when he got back up and skated away on both feet– you knew the fall had simply been because he tripped.

A trip that, with six seconds left to spare, gave Connor McDavid the opportunity to score the tying goal. A trip that if it hadn’t had happened– they would be the Winter Classic winners. But it didn’t work out that way, and you could only hope that he didn’t take the loss too heavy on his shoulders. Those waiting on their player lingered around in the stands before you all were allowed to make your way down to the area that was between the ice and the stands, the players who weren’t doing media coming out first opposed to those who were chosen.

And unfortunately, Matt was chosen, and you spent the whole time waiting for him hoping that it wasn’t because of the split second moment where he’d fallen down and gave the Oilers a chance to score, but because of the good he did earlier in the game and scoring his second career hat trick. But you also knew that there was no avoiding the topic at all.

Finally as the players who did media were starting to trickle out, you found yourself feeling antsy at meeting up with Matt, which was totally brand new. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug him like normal or hug him and kiss him or kiss him first– the territory was new and you were also in front of his parents and sister, who no doubt would give the both of you some kind of flack– win or loss. The one thing that you did know for certain, was that you were always going to be there to greet him after a game whether that be over the phone or in person, no matter win or loss– you’d continue to be that support that you’ve been since you were kids.

When Matt finally came out from the entrance walking alongside Markstrom, you felt conflicted. On one side, you were itching to just wrap your arms around him, kiss him and tell him how proud of him you were. And on the other hand, you were wanting to sit back, let his family greet him first because you were trying your best to ignore the heat dropping feeling of seeing the disappointment on his face from the loss.

You didn’t feel bad when he greeted his mom with a hug first and then the rest of his family. If anything, that’s what you would do– greet your parents before anyone else because they were the reason behind where you got. And when Matt turned to you, your heart soared because even after the loss, a small smile and a twinkle in his eyes appeared the moment he looked at you.

“Hug your girlfriend Matthew,” Keith joked, patting him heavily on the shoulder. “Only took you about a decade to get to this point huh?”

“Keith, stop it,” Chantal hushed, nudging him as you met Matt halfway for a hug.

While he gave his parents and Taryn a one armed hug, he hugged you with both, kissing the side of your head before resting his head on your shoulder. “I suck,” he huffed, leaning his head against yours. “It’s all my fault.”

“Yeah,” you replied, rubbing his back as he pulled away with furrowed brows and a pout. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know…tell me I don’t suck or it’s not my fault or something?” He replied, keeping his hands on your waist.

“Well, what kind of service would I do if I lied?” You replied, patting his chest. “Only what? Not even 24 hours into a new relationship and you want me to lie already?”

He rolled his eyes before pulling you into another hug. “You suck.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing soon after as Matt pulled away and kissed your forehead.

“Gross,” Taryn joked, a smirk on her face before turning to her parents. “Now that Matt lost the game, can we go get food now?”

“Taryn!” Chantal said, giving her a look. “We’ll need to pick up your brother first from the arena, but yes, we can.”

“How about a ‘hey best big brother ever, congratulations on your second ever career hat trick! I’m so proud of you?’” Matt said, nudging Taryn’s shoulder as you all started to follow him out of the area to walk him to the bus that would take the team back to the Saddledome.

“I never said you were the best big brother,” Taryn shrugged, teasing him. “Because in case you forgot, which I don’t know how because you stole his best friend from him, I have two big brothers.”

“I did not–”

“Okay, both of you stop now please,” Keith sighed, rubbing his temples. “I need a drink. All three kids are out of the house and yet you always make me need a drink.”

“Technically, we still live there in the summers,” Taryn smiled. “But maybe now that y/n and Matt are dating, you and her dad can get them both out of the house and into their own apartment. You know, start their lives together, get engaged, married, have babies– not in that order or anything–”

Matt reached out with his right leg and nudged the back of Taryn’s leg as he gave her a look. “Cool it, T.”

She just rolled her eyes and kept talking to get a rise out of Matt the entire time until you made to to the bus. They stayed behind as you walked Matt over to the bus, sensing how he was stressed and you just wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your chin on his chest. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he sighed, looking down at you. “Sorry we didn’t win.”

“You can’t win them all, Matt,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as your hands drifted down to resting on his waist, hooking your index fingers in each pocket. “Besides, I got to see you get a hat trick and play in the Battle of Alberta for the Winter Classic. Plus, I got this really cool jacket…so I think I’m pretty okay right now despite the loss.”

“Any chance I can still cash in on that surprise you said I’d get if we won?” He pouted, a playful look in his eyes. “Especially if that means we get to cuddle on the couch?”

“Oh most definitely,” you smiled, leaning up and kissing him before pulling away. “Now get on the bus so we can get to dinner faster, I’m starving.”

“Alright, see you in a bit,” Matt laughed, kissing you again before turning around to walk towards the bus doors.

“Hey Matt!” You said, just before he got too far away, and when he turned around to look at you, you smiled and patted your own left jean pocket. “Check your left pocket.”

He furrowed his brows before reaching into his pocket with his left hand and then his eyes went wide as he looked up from the half of his hand he’d taken out of the pocket before looking back up at you with a smirk. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you smiled, winking at him before turning around to meet up with his parents and Taryn. Once reaching them, you felt your phone vibrate in your jacket pocket and pulled it out to see a text from Matt.

Matty 🐭❤️: Hope you don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight. We’ve got years of sex to make up for all the lost time.

Y/n: Only as long as you promise to feed me pizza and garlic knots when it’s all done.

Matty 🐭❤️: Deal. Once we get back to the apartment after dinner, don’t expect to wear any clothes until tomorrow morning when we meet them for breakfast.

Y/n: Aw, but I was kind of hoping to wear what I have on under

Matty 🐭❤️: …Any chance you’re willing to wear my jersey over it once or twice?

Y/n: I think that can be arranged 😉😍

“You guys are gross,” Taryn whispered, nodding down at your phone as she walked beside you. “At least tell me you use condoms.”

There was no hiding the way your eyes widened just slightly when you looked at her or your heating face, causing her to sigh and shake her head. “Well, if you get pregnant, Taryn makes a great middle name for a girl.” She bumped into you a smile on her face. “But really, I’m glad you two worked it out, y/n. Not only because it's been a long time coming, but because you’re both happier. It’s obvious.”

“Thanks, Taryn,” you smiled, leaning against her.

“But also, thanks for waiting till New Years to start dating because I totally won the bet with Brady. He said Christmas, I said New Years,” she smiled, picking up your hand and giving you a high five.

“You suck,” you laughed, shaking your head as you took your hand away.

“You know you love me, now come on, future sister-in-law, tell me all the gossip about what went down. Because you can bet mom and dad are going to ask at dinner and I can’t wait to see Matt squirm like a bug.”

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket again and saw a picture message from Matt. When you opened it, you saw he sent three pictures, the first picture was of the group of kids when you, Matt and Brady were in elementary school and your parents allowed you to stay up for New Years so you could watch the Disney Channel’s program event, Taryn being too young and already in bed. You were standing between the two boys, all dressed in pajamas and each of you with New Years Eve hats on your heads and fringe blowers in your mouths. The second picture was of the two of you last night, again the both of you wearing New Years Eve hats and dressed up in a gold sequin mini-dress, while Matt wore a black button up shirt and black jeans. He had his arm wrapped around your waist tightly, pulling you into his side as you were partially facing him, the both of you smiling at the camera. And the third one was also from last night, only now Matt had you partially dipped and the two of you were kissing.

The pictures caused you to smile and then your eyes skimmed across the message, feeling your heart race in your chest.

Matty 🐭❤️: Can’t wait to take on the New Year with you and every New Year to come. I love you! ❤️

Y/n: I love you too! 😊❤️

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #matthew tkachuk oneshot #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk one shot #nhl writing #nhl one shot #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey writing #hockey one shot #hockey fic #calgary flames writing #calgary flames oneshot #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames one shot #calgary flames fic

[b6cky]

slushie

synopsis: spiderman shows up to his local convenience store, beaten up pretty badly, but he’s on a mission that only you can help him with. he needed his damn slushie.

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader

taglist: @sp1deys @inu1gf @stanmixtapes @wilczachannn @peterparkertheloml ( send an ask to be added! )

warnings: very brief mentions of violence, wounds mentioned, none of these are described in detail, fluff, they/them pronouns used

author’s notes: i was inspired by a tiktok of a cosplayer, which i can’t find bc my fyp refreshed :( likes, comments + reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist

fridays were a day that people often looked forward to; most people quite enjoyed fridays. the satisfaction of having a productive day, yet being able to relax at home and enjoy your time not thinking about getting up the next day for work, or school. not y/n. no. they did not like fridays at all. especially not after their boss had moved them on the roster to take the night shift on fridays. what was worse was that y/n worked that evening alone, not that it was a big deal seeing as it was a small convenience store and not many people would come in during the night, but still y/n had heard all about the convenience stores being victims of armed robberies, one even getting burnt down at some point.

the night shifts scared y/n. simple as. they could care less about the fact they’d have to stay up late, often staying at the store until the very early hours of the night, occasionally having to kick out a few drunk teenagers very obviously trying to steal from the place. y/n’s boss was an asshole, but still… it was an unwritten rule amongst thieves not to steal from small businesses, only to take from the corporations that wouldn’t notice a thing or two missing.

the ringing of store’s bell drew y/n’s attention away from the cash register and they looked up towards the door which was once painted neatly with a nice neat coat of forest green, but over the years the paint started to chip, exposing the wood underneath it. y/n’s eyes widened as they watched a beaten up spiderman walk over to the slushie machines. his suit was covered in rips, ranging from the size of y/n’s thumb to the size of y/n’s hand, to say they were concerned for the masked hero was an understatement. he had a gloved hand propped up under his chin as if he was deep in thought about the different flavours of slushies, but before y/n could ask him if he needed to go the hospital he turned to them. his mask was ripped in a way that revealed the bottom half of his face and one of the eyes had been broken, y/n guessing that it had unfortunately taken the blow of a punch during a fight. y/n could see one of his eyes through the broken eye of the mask and saw the softest chocolate brown puppy-dog eyes staring back at them.

“hey, sorry, how much is a cup of one of these?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, something peter did subconsciously, yet y/n smiled at the adorable action.

“you sure you wouldn’t rather have an ambulance?” y/n questioned laughing slightly, despite their concern for the masked superhero’s life.

a smile spread across his face, wincing slightly at the pain in his busted lip as he did so, “no, no, i’ll be fine, wouldn’t want to go to a hospital anyways, not after the night i’ve had.”

“if you’re sure, spiderboy,” y/n smirked, watching the hero cross his arms across his chest to express his dissatisfaction with the nickname (lightheartedly of course), “it’s on the house, whatever size cup and flavour you want, go wild.”

“are you sure? i don’t want to do that, i can pay! i have money, i know i look like i may not, um but i can pay!” peter protested, holding up his wallet just to prove that he in fact could pay for his slushie.

“take it as a thanks for saving the city,” y/n smiled and made their way from the counter towards the slushie machines, “so what size and flavour does the superhero desire?”

“hmm, tricky question,” he mumbled, turning back to the machines and placing a hand on his hip as his other reached up to his chin, reading the labels on the machines, “what’s your favourite flavour?”

“can you keep a secret?” y/n smiled cheekily at him, mischief obvious in the glint in their eye.

“i wont tell a soul!” peter did an ‘x’ motion across his chest, smiling at the person next to him.

“okay good, because if you did… i’d have to kill you and that would be tragic, who would rob me of my money for a free slushie!” y/n joked, making peter laugh nervously, “i’m kidding spidey, come here whenever you like, as long as the boss doesn’t find out i’m giving free drinks out.”

“thank you,” he smiled, his hand reaching up to the back of his neck to rub it.

“in the back we have a secret flavour, it’s my favourite.. it’s birthday cake flavour,” y/n explained, pointing their finger behind them and gesturing to the door that had “STAFF ONLY” plastered across it in a bright red.

“birthday cake slushie? that sounds interesting,” peter hummed, “i’ll take one, large cup please.”

“only because you asked so nicely, spidey!” y/n teased, “don’t worry, i’ll make it an extra large cup, looks like you could need it.”

“ouch, i thought i looked pretty good,” peter joked with a lopsided smile across his face.

“follow me,” y/n rolled their eyes playfully at him and led him towards the door with the threatening blocky text in bright red, “here it is, the real deal, queens’ finest!”

“queens’ finest? i’ll be the judge of that!” he laughed, ignoring the pain in his body as he did so.

“of course, only fitting for queens’ protector to judge it,” y/n nodded, laughing along with him and placing the cup under the slushie machine and filling it up. they placed a cover on the top and placed a plastic straw into the hole at the top of the plastic cover, “don’t tell anyone i’m giving you a plastic straw, just couldn’t have you drinking with a soggy straw.”

“man! your secret is safe with me as long as i can take home some of these, i hate those paper straws! they always get all wet and i have to drink out of the cup,” peter ranted, pleasantly surprised to find someone who shared the same opinion about paper straws.

“dude sometimes the straw gets so soggy i just end up accidentally eating it, like once… there was a good half of the straw gone,” y/n admitted, passing him the drink, “c’mon try it.”

“i’m not even gonna ask about you eating a straw…” he muttered, holding the cup up to his mouth so he could drink it through the straw. he paused for a few seconds and then looked at y/n with wide eyes, although they could only see one, “this- this is amazing! this is the most amazing thing i have ever had!!”

y/n smiled brightly at him, “i’m glad! now that it’s spiderman approved i’ll make millions from this,” y/n smirked playfully, the tone of their voice making it obvious that y/n actually wasn’t going to go through with branding it the spiderman approved slushie.

“ha ha, very funny,” he mocked sarcastically, trying to hide the smile that was itching to spread across his face, “so what’s your name? i feel like “shopkeeper” might not be your name.”

“actually, my name is shopkeeer, shopkeeper the third destined to a live behind a cash register!” y/n joked, getting themself a slushie, “i’m kidding, it’s y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated as if he were testing out how their name would sound from his lips, “that’s a nice name.”

y/n had a surprised expression form across her face, but a smile still spread across it, “thank you, bug boy.”

“bug boy?” he laughed.

“yeah, bug boy!” they chuckled and then took a sip from their own slushie.

“you know technically spiders aren’t bugs,” peter corrected, a smug smirk on his face.

“yeah yeah, i know arachnid shmarachnid, whatever smarty pants,” y/n scoffed, a joking and playful tone to their voice. they paused for a second and then spoke again, “do you want to go to the roof, y’know some fresh air?”

“yeah, that’d be nice,” peter smiled at y/n, agreeing to meet them their in a few minutes, as y/n would have to temporarily close the shop to make sure no one came in and robbed the place and also seeing as peter could climb up there himself without having to go through the trouble of climbing up a fire escape. peter sat himself down on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the edge, as he looked up at the sky, his slushie in hand. despite almost losing a fight to a large group of armed men, he was enjoying himself. he felt at peace knowing that he had saved a group of slightly older women and that he had his slushie he had been craving the whole day. and maybe he was happy about his new slushie buddy too.

“hey there bug boy!” y/n called out, jogging up to him, “looks like someone’s deep in thought, a penny for your thoughts?”

peter just smiled, chuckling and turning his head slightly to look at y/n who was leaning on the slight wall he had been sitting on, he assumed that they may have been slightly scared that they’d fall off the edge, not that he would let that happen.

“just thinking about how nice it is at night, y’know forgetting about the criminals and stuff,” he shrugged, suddenly feeling really small and stupid talking about it, “it’s- it’s stupid, but-“

“not stupid at all, i promise,” y/n smiled genuinely at him, giving him a thumbs up to keep going.

“um, well, it’s just that.. it’s quiet at night, but it’s not so quiet that you feel alone, you can sometimes hear cars and the occasional group of people way too drunk to care about the time… it’s- it.. it’s nice, and it makes me feel less.. alone,” peter’s face started to heat up out of embarrassment, realising he was opening up to a complete stranger that didn’t even know who he was under the mask, but it touched him that a complete stranger was willing to treat him like he was not a hero and talk to him like he was a close friend and listen to him ramble, often like mj and ned would do.

“those are some deep thoughts, bug boy,” y/n smiled up at him, “i get what you mean, i don’t like silence much either, feels too much like i’m waiting for something bad to happen.”

“well, never fear because the friendly neighbourhood spiderman is here!” he joked, putting on an overly enthusiastic voice on, making y/n laugh, as they set down their slushie on the wall that reached just below their chest.

“my hero! how ever shall i repay you!” y/n dramatically gasped.

“free slushies forever.” peter tried to answer in a serious tone, but his smile kept cracking through the serious facade he had put on for the joke.

“your wish is my command, bug boy.”

“why thank you, y/n.”

“so, tough fight tonight?” y/n questioned, a curious eyebrow raising as they picked up their slushie again and taking a sip.

“yeah, a little.. but i won! you should see the other guys, they won’t be messing with anyone for a good while,” he smiled, this job although it came with very limited rewards, nothing would ever top the reward of knowing criminals were being put away because of him. well, maybe after tonight the the free slushie was the best reward he’d gotten yet, the churros he got from an old lady once had nothing on the birthday cake slushie.

“y’know i think you’re one of the coolest heroes, you do everything with no pay and you seem to enjoy it,” y/n shrugged, “i don’t know, maybe if i were a hero somehow, i’d like a little bit of compensation for my troubles.”

“well, this slushie is a pretty good compensation i think,” peter said, taking another sip of the slushie.

“consider it a payment for your service,” y/n smiled, “and maybe you can get that free slushie for life you wanted, only as long as you show up on fridays after nine, that’s when my shift starts.”

“you’re kidding right?” he looked at them puzzled, “you don’t need to do that, i was only joking.”

“and? if bug boy wants a slushie who am i to deny him of his slushie!” y/n exclaimed dramatically.

“does the slushies come with.. maybe your number?” he asked, knowing he may be pushing his luck with that question, but the smirk on y/n’s face telling him otherwise.

“smooth, spiderman.. very smooth,” she chuckled, “check the side of your cup.”

he looked down at the cup and turned it, looking for what they were hinting at. sure enough, on the side of the cup read a phone number and ‘call me? :)’, “when did you even do that? i didn’t even see you hold a pen for the entire night!”

“a magician never reveals their secrets,” y/n smiled proudly.

“do you just have a stash of cups either your phone number on them or something?” peter joked, tilting his head in a teasing manner.

“that’s pretty smart, but nope! i only give my numbers to the cute, but slightly disheveled looking superheroes that show up,” y/n teased.

“ohh, i see, you get a lot of those coming through here, then?” peter asked, a playful tone in his voice.

“unfortunately not, you’re the first, but i may need to beat the other heroes off with a stick from now on, bug boy’s the one getting free slushies from now on,” y/n laughed, finding their own joke amusing.

“oh yeah, because you just have a bunch of super heroes lining up to get your number,” peter rolled his eyes, a small smile across his lips.

“woah! okay then bug boy, no free slushie for you!” y/n scoffed, pretending to be offended by him.

“nooo! my free slushies!” he frowned playing along with their joke, “i take it back i’m sorry, anything but my free slushies for life!”

“hmm, i’ll consider giving you your free slushies back, if you promise to text,” a cheeky smirk formed on their face as they looked at the semi-masked hero.

“man… i don’t know if i can do that!” he exaggerated a sigh and frowned.

“damn, okay, spiderman has no mercy tonight,” y/n laughed.

“i’m joking, i’m joking i promise,” he laughed with them.

“this was really nice, but i’m gonna have to go reopen the store if i want to keep my job!” y/n smiled at the masked hero.

“thanks for hanging around with me, y/n! and thank you for the slushie, i’ll definitely be back!” he exclaimed excitedly and then started stuttering in a slightly panicked voice, “w-wait, no i meant i’d come back to see you, not-not just for the slushie, i swear.”

“you’re cute bug boy, i’ll see you around!” y/n waved at him, before making their way to the fire escape, reluctantly leaving the hero alone. peter sat there for a few more minutes, staring down at the cup and smiled at the phone number. he turned the cup around, fidgeting with it before he left the rooftop. he noticed the same handwriting on the other side of the cup and stared at the words ‘ur an idiot :)” staring at him.

#peter parker tom holland x reader #peter parker x gn!reader #peter parker tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland #tom holland x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x gn!reader #spiderman x reader fluff #peter parker x reader fluff #spiderman homecoming #spiderman tom holland #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #b6cky

[fruggo]

the boys x tough f!reader (part 2)

requested by : @dranonymous

i love this idea and i hope you all enjoy part two! :D here’s part 1 with the original request.

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dwight is really cute, danny is an asshole, jake is that cute “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope because i say so

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

you are so cool. like ,,,,,so cool

dwight admires you so much. you just got here and yet you are breaking pyramid head’s ankles—dodging his trail of torment left and right, the killer just can’t touch you.

and how did you feel about everything? terrified, honestly, but nobody would ever be able to tell because you didn’t let it get to you. it was like you had already been here before, because the second you learned how to do something, you had it down no problem. fixing generators came naturally, and you could also run the killer for the whole trial if you had to. teammates could easily rely on you to do whatever needed to be done.

that was what made you and dwight such a powerful duo. from the moment you met, you knew you felt comfortable around this guy. he was sweet, maybe a little timid sometimes, but he knew how to step up and be a leader for everyone despite his fears.

you both knew what to do, and you fit together like a glove. your minds worked in very similar ways, which made communicating that much easier and efficient; the second a decision needed to be made, dwight was on top of it, encouraging the teammates and helping them get on their feet. you were already ahead of them, so dwight would just nod to you, knowing you could do your job well.

of course, there were times when dwight’s anxiety got the better of him, and you had to be the one encouraging him.

dwight hated the hag. despised her. he could not stand her jumpscares when a trap was triggered, he would swear he was about to have a heart attack. he couldn’t admit this at first, but you figured it out when feng min was hooked and dwight stuck to the generator, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. he always went for the saves, so something was obviously wrong.

“dwight? why don’t you go save her?” you asked, eyeing him from your side of the generator.

he didn’t respond, looking over his shoulder again.

you decided to rescue min, but when you got back, you were going to chew dwight out until he gave you a straight answer.

you crawled up to the hook to avoid triggering a trap and gently lowered min to the ground. the two of you inched away carefully until you were far enough away to patch her wound.

“dwight, get off your ass and answer me,” you demanded (affectionately) once you were back at the generator, which was nearly finished. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes conveyed nervousness in every sense of the word; they darted all around, searching for any incoming danger. this was your first time seeing him like this, so you were confused. was he alright?

“it’s just…the hag,” he started, still fiddling with the wires. “her traps, i can’t…”

oh. was he anxious about the traps?

“i just can’t deal with them,” he finally said with difficulty. that was understandable; when they caught you off guard it definitely made you leap out of your skin.

“dwight, listen,” you said. “you’ve dealt with every other killer in this realm, haven’t you? you’ve bested the nurse, the huntress, micky myers, and even the spirit, who’s a bitch. i know hag’s traps are fucking terrifying, but you’re dwight! you are a leader, and you are good at being a leader. you can get out of here, i promise. and besides, with me here, you have nothing to worry about. i’ll kick that witch’s ass, got it?”

your very inspirational speech got him to smile. you were right, anyways—you could definitely kick the hag’s ass. what could go wrong?

nothing, actually. genuinely nothing went wrong. you took chase for the rest of the trial so that dwight didn’t have to worry about a thing, and everybody escaped with no problem. he didn’t understand how you were so good at evading capture—but perhaps you would tell him about your past eventually. you hadn’t yet decided.

back at the campfire, you and dwight comfortably sat side-by-side, patiently waiting until your next trials.

“thanks,” he said.

“for what?”

“for that very motivational speech you gave me,” he laughed.

you wiped imaginary dust off of your shoulder, giving him a confident smile. “i got your back. and man, that hag lady really is a bitch, huh? i can see why you hate her.”

that comment unintentionally caused one of dwight’s long, angry rants about his least favorite killer, and all you could do was watch him and listen with a soft grin on your lips. you’d never seen him angry before—it was adorable. made you wonder if you should just piss him off for fun sometimes.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

this guy has hella respect for you

you’re independent and easy to teach, and that’s everything he could ask for.

now and then, the other survivors basically gave newbies to jake to teach them everything about the realm—they considered him the expert on all things survival. you were one of those newbies he was forced to take care of.

jake normally hated teaching new survivors more than anything, because it was never his choice and they were all so difficult. but you were different. you were responsible, reliable, and smart, and it made his job so much easier. as time went on, he grew to be quite fond of you.

word eventually got out that the new girl had managed to charm jake out of his “hermit ways,” but he insisted that it was not true (he also disagreed about the “hermit ways” part). it was never spoken of between the two of you, but it definitely floated around in the air waiting to be addressed.

it really couldn’t be ignored any longer. anytime you were seen anywhere within 24 feet of each other, the other survivors would give you looks and wiggle their eyebrows or shoot you a thumbs up—all of which were unwanted. it created a weird tension between you and jake that wasn’t there before, and you really didn’t like it.

you missed when you were first starting out, and jake had just realized how competent you are. those days were fun—he respected you a lot; you could see it in his face when he looked at you. you always knew when he was pleased and when you did stuff right, because he would have the tiniest, most subtle grin on his face, but you could see it, and it made you feel accomplished.

you knew he still respected you, but you had basically jumped the learning curve of the realm and quickly adapted to every killer, every challenge, and every task. how you did it, nobody could ever know. but you were almost sad, because there was kind of no reason for you and jake to spend a lot of time together anymore. if you did, then everybody would freak out for the wrong reasons, and it would ruin your friendship.

so what if you had a few small feelings for him? no one gave a shit—you knew jake probably wouldn’t give a shit. to him, you were just another annoying survivor he was forced to teach. besides, you didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

man, were you wrong, though. he really, really wanted to be around you, but you already knew everything, so he didn’t know what to do to spend time with you. his way of initial bonding was sharing knowledge, but that had already been done, so…what now?

then came the one trial that changed everything.

it was normal at first. the killer, blight, was doing well, so you had to step up your game. one generator was completed and he had 4 hooks on three different people—you were the only one not hooked yet.

he was after you, and you were expertly dodging every rush and swing he threw your way. unfortunately, you accidentally ran to the generator that jake was working on, and things got a little complicated.

when the blight rushed at the wall, then at you, jake ran towards you while you ran towards him—you were both looking over your shoulders—and alas, bonk. you crashed into each other.

oh, no!! how terrible!! looks like jake fell on top of you :/ what an unfortunate situation to be in /s /s /s /s /s

wowwww near proximity ! you’d never been so close before and it was awkward but nice (?)

then you remembered there was a crazy drug addict or whatever over there and he was chasing you, and the moment was ruined. jake quickly rose and pulled you up with him, and you went in opposite directions, both nervous and wide-eyed now.

lol

after that, the trial went quite south. everybody was sacrificed. perhaps the loss could be partly attributed to you and jake avoiding each other like the plague. but who knows, right?

back at the campfire, you began feeling overwhelmed by all the weird stuff happening lately, so you excused yourself to the edge of the woods to have some quiet time to yourself. a few minutes later, jake came to check on you bc he is a fucking gentleman and yes i will die for the “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope. fuck you

it’s slightly awkward at first, but then you start talking like normal and things feel a lot better. a little bit of the tension eases away, but not completely. what the fuck do you do with feelings like this?????

you simply composed yourself as best you could. it would have to do.

now that you felt a little more normal (lie), you trekked back to the campfire to wait for your next trials side-by-side. there was no one you felt more comfortable with or more respected by than jake. he appreciated you for your competency, and that was one of the best things you could ask for.

and to your surprise, jake actually took your hand and laced your fingers with his own. and it felt nice. never in your existence would you have thought he would be okay with displaying public affection, but you smiled up at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

maybe the entity gave him drugs.

or he just liked you that much. either one would make sense.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

danny hated you. he really did.

you were so unbothered, so calm, so good at knowing what to do. it really pissed him off.

you got so much attention from the other survivors for your skill and that really pissed him off too. it’s not like you cared or wanted it or anything, but how dare they even touch you when you so clearly belonged to danny?

…who knows wtf that even means. so anyways-

when you realized how much time danny spent chasing you in trials when he should have been patrolling generators, you began to get suspicious. especially when he would take you to the hatch and then close it in your face, watching you die to the entity. he obviously had some kind of beef with you.

you were determined to find out what he had against you, so you began to tease him a bit in chases. your favorite and most frequent phrase was something like, "can't catch me? lil baby man? lil baby? lil baby man gonna cry?" you were really testing your luck with that one, and that's why you loved it.

once, you told him his fly was down, and he actually fell for it, making you nearly keel over in laughter. you got moried without even being hooked after that.

despite the horrors that frequented this place, you were never in a crisis about it. you simply learned what had to be done, and then you did it, much to the chagrin of danny. you had skipped the big "useless baby survivor" phase, and that one was his favorite :( he loved trials with new survivors because it was so easy and fun!

but alas, from the beginning, you were always on top of things, always slamming pallets onto his head or saving teammates with a flashlight.

oh, don't even get him started on your flashlight usage. you were the absolute worst to go against--every pallet stun, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. every time he picks up a survivor, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. you were a bitch with that item.

he finally began to get so fed up with your behavior that he decided you must be taught a lesson. somehow, countless mori and tunneling and camping incidents had not even managed to bother you. you literally did not care. but he had something different in mind this time.

the realm was haddonfield, of course. all of the killers despised this map, and for good reason--you ran danny around the entire neighborhood for three generators. did he have to chase you? no. but he needed to for himself.

he finally caught you in a dead zone, rejoicing to himself as you fell to the ground in defeat. "wow, that was a good chase," you mumbled under your breath, feeling accomplished. one of your best against danny, probably.

you were expecting him to pick you up, but instead he snatched the flashlight from your grasp and chucked it as far away as he could. and before you could protest, he pulled you up to stand again and yanked you towards himself, gripping your wrists so tightly you swore it left bruises.

"what's wrong...lil baby man?" you said with a pout, trying not to laugh. "is baby man angry?"

you were slightly scared if you were being honest, but you couldn't let him know that.

danny sighed. you really didn't know when to stop, did you?

"bitch," he spat, voice dangerously quiet. "cut that shit out."

"what shit?"

he squeezed your arms tighter, provoking an "okay, okay, i get it!" from you.

"do you?"

"sure. what's the worst you could possibly do to me anyways?" after those words left your mouth, you got a weird feeling that the killer was smiling behind his mask.

"listen, uhh, danny, is it?" you said, putting as much nonchalance into your voice as you could. "i just wanna know why you hate me so much. remember that time you closed the hatch in my face? the fuck was that for?"

he frowned at the use of his name but responded regardless, "you're a little bitch, and you deserved that."

you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "ouch. that one hurt."

"i can make you hurt a lot more," he said darkly. you probably should have been scared, but you just really couldn't take him seriously.

so you laughed. it shouldn't have been funny, but it just was and now you couldn't stop. "you're just--you--i can't--" you wheezed, shaking from the laughter. "i'm sorry, it's really not funny."

danny didn't understand you. anybody else would have been sobbing if he so much as touched them, and here you were acting like it was a joke.

what could he do if you truly were not afraid of him?

perhaps it was time to let it go.

while his guard was down, suddenly you reached above his head and plucked his mask off, revealing his face and continuing your bouts of laughter at his shocked expression.

you threw the mask in the same direction as the flashlight, composing yourself and putting your hands on your hips. "you look pretty nice," you said, nodding.

wow. what the hell was danny supposed to do with you? perhaps the only completely unbothered, completely unserious survivor? he knew you were smart, and you knew what you were doing. he didn't even want to kill you anymore, you were just that fascinating.

that trial ended in you standing at the exit gate, your finger and your thumb in the shape of an L on your forehead. danny couldn’t care less at this point--he was done with your shit. but somehow he still liked you, and this definitely would not be the last time you saw him without his mask.

#requests #fruggo writes #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd x reader #jake park x reader #jake park #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #dwight fairfield #dwight fairfield x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd headcanons

[harrys-titties]

Y/N and Harry hate each other, until they don’t. 

29K+

Warnings: Asshole Harry, A LOT of swearing (I’m sorry,) mentions of anxiety, a questionable game of drink or truth & smut 

(A/N FINALLY I FINISHED!!  Blood, sweat and tears has been put into this one, so I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3 Also you may have to open in your web browser bc she is big af xx) 

-masterlist-

It wasn't that Y/N didn't like Harry, in all honesty, she didn't know him well enough to come to that conclusion. But from what she'd seen so far, she wasn't too impressed. She had never found it too challenging to make new friends, often finding herself able to get along with even the oddest of characters, but with Harry, it was a different story.

Perhaps if they weren’t forced to stay in the same house during quarantine, having to spend days on end with only each other and their housemates to cure their boredom, things would be different. Maybe, just maybe Harry wouldn’t have come across as so disagreeable and overbearing. 

However, at this rate, Y/N was led to believe it was just who he was. An asshole who had somehow tricked the entire planet into believing he was the epitome of the ‘boy next door’ stereotype. 

Sarah, Y/N’s cousin, had called her sometime around July, asking her if she wanted to quarantine with her, her boyfriend, Mitch and a few mates rather than alone in her somewhat dingy apartment. Y/N had immediately jumped at the opportunity. Quarantining by herself had already proved to be somewhat tricky and incredibly depressing. While she loved her charming little abode, she was certainly not prepared to spend the next few months stuck inside it, alone, watching ‘Friends’ reruns with a bottle of wine and only her three potted cacti to keep her company. 

So, naturally, that led her to the doorstep of Sarah and Mitch's huge shared house with butterflies in her stomach, imagining what her new housemates would be like. 

Sarah had told Y/N all about Mitch, Jeff and Harry, exclaiming how funny, kind and welcoming they would be, and well, Y/N was excited, she needed some new friends. After her last break up about a year ago, had lost her a boyfriend and subsequently the mutual friends of his that she thought had become hers too, she felt slightly lonely. For Y/N the chance to cure isolation boredom blues and make some new friends was an offer she wouldn't dream of refusing. 

Upon arrival, Y/N noticed that Sarah's description fit Jeff and Mitch to a tee, but Harry? Well, he barely managed to squeeze into it. When she'd walked through the door, Mitch had immediately offered to take her bags and even offered her some of his favourite tea to help her relax after her relatively stressful journey. Jeff gave her a huge hug and asked what her favourite snacks were so he could add them to the shopping list. And Harry? He sat in silence with his head practically glued to his phone, hardly even sparing a glance in her direction. 

Y/N didn't let this discourage her. She prided herself on being friendly and often easy to get along with and so approached him readily. However, greeting him with a cheerful, "it's nice to meet you!" and her renowned smile had only earned her a grunt and a disinterested look. Maybe he was just having a bad day?

On the drive to Sarah’s house, Y/N had been thinking about how exciting it was to be able to meet him. While she’d never been an avid fan of his music, she wasn’t blind to the enormous impact he had on the industry. He seemed kind and beyond charming, and well, Y/N had a working pair of eyes, she knew how handsome he was. She had only ever heard good things and was excited to get to know the man who had made her cousin's dreams come true. 

However, Harry's blase and borderline rude personality really rubbed her the wrong way. Y/N could understand having a rough day, even she could get a bit grumpy the days leading up to her period, but Harry's impertinence surpassed a simple 'bad day' or two. He was impossible! He would hardly even acknowledge her existence, and on the rare occasion when he did, he was insolent and passive-aggressive. He would nitpick everything Y/N did, from the way she would dress to something as simple as how much soy sauce she had on her sushi! Y/N didn't know how she would survive another week with him, let alone the whole of isolation. 

Maybe loneliness, copious amounts of alcohol and friends reruns would’ve been the better option. 

——

It wasn't that Harry didn't like Y/N, in all honesty, he didn't know her well enough to come to that conclusion. There was just something about her that grated on his nerves. It could possibly be the fact that Sarah had insisted she was his type before he'd even met her. While Harry had countered, unless she looked exactly like the ex he was still very much pining over he doubted it to be true, Sarah had insisted. She showed him picture after picture from their trip to Europe together, pointing out how pretty Y/N's hair looked, or how dazzling her smile was.

While there was a resemblance to the girl on his mind, Harry doubted it was enough to remind him of the heartbreak she had instilled upon him. Alas, Harry was wrong. When Y/N had floated through the door without a care in the world, Harry had frozen. While Y/N did kind of resemble his past girlfriend Elle, it was the way she acted that frustrated Harry more. She had the same air about her, carried herself in the same way that Elle did, with humble confidence and poise.  

Harry hated it. The more he got to know Y/N, the more he realised that she was somehow simultaneously similar and completely different from the girl he was still in love with, and he hated it. She was a constant reminder of what he could no longer have, and he didn't know if he wished Y/N were more like Elle so he could have a part of her back, or if he wished she was a completely different person altogether.

Either way, Harry could hardly hold in the frustration he felt around her, snapping at anything she said and nit-picking her every move. 

While he knew he was acting unreasonably, he barely had a cause to stop it. 

——

Y/N was usually self-confident and relatively sure of herself, but she was also stubborn, and for some reason was bothered by Harry's opinion of her more than she cared to admit. 

So, over the first few days of her staying at the house, Y/N had tried her hardest to get Harry to like her, but her endeavours only seemed to further annoy him. She baked him carrot cake because she'd heard it was his favourite, but with a screwed up nose, Harry had swiped his finger through the icing to taste it and grumbled, "way too sweet," before retreating back to his room. Y/N was embarrassed as Sarah had given her a sympathetic look and insisted "everyone else will love it!" 

When doing her washing, she added Harry's whites with hers and even went so far as to dry and fold them too. But when she woke the next day, the clothes had been taken from the laundry, and Y/N was not given a spare glance.

 Harry had insisted they watch a horror movie during their weekly movie night, and Y/N didn't say a word of opposition, even though she knew she would have nightmares that night. Sarah had even tried to say something on her behalf, but Y/N quickly hushed her, not wanting to cause a scene and have Harry hate her even more than he already did. 

But Y/N's quick agreeance to watch 'Halloween' disagreed with her a lot more than she thought it would. She had hardly slept at all, jumping at the smallest of sounds and debating the probability of a murderous man being able to break into the house. When she turns again for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night, only to be met with the glaring '3:30' from the mickey mouse alarm clock she had nearly forgotten to pack, she gives up. 

In an attempt to calm herself down from the numerous haunting images flashing through her mind, Y/N begins her trek to the kitchen. A cool glass of water and perhaps one of the cupcakes Sarah and herself had baked the day before, would surely put her overworked mind at ease. 

As Y/N begins to walk down the stairs, she can't help but imagine behind every door a murderer with a knife, that each step in the pitch black was one closer to her death. The eerie silence of the house full of sleeping people only made her feel worse. 

Scolding herself for ever agreeing to watch the stupid movie in the first place, she turns around to flick on the lights to the hallway and stairway. Feeling slightly more comfortable now that she could see, she walked downstairs only to repeat the process in the kitchen, dining room and living room until the whole house, bar upstairs, was flooded with light.

Standing in the fully lit kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate she had found in the cupboard and munching away at the sweet treat, Y/N finally begins to feel somewhat safe. That is until a dark figure suddenly emerges from the hallway.

 "Harry! What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me," she exclaims while clutching at her rapidly beating chest. With his chestnut curls in a tangled heap upon his head, one sock on and clad in only a white shirt and boxers, he looks slightly worse for wear. "What the fuck are you doing, making such a racket at four in the fucking morning?" His voice sounds strained as if he'd just woken up and his face is screwed in annoyance as he points at the provincial-style clock hanging on the wall for emphasis. 

Y/N hesitates, she knew telling Harry his movie choice had kept her awake would not end well, "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you or anything." At this, he scoffs, "didn't mean to wake me, huh? Turning on every fuckin’ light and slammin’ cupboards will usually do that to a person." 

Now Harry knows he's being mean, can hear the way his accent thickens with annoyance and can see how she flinches with every raised decibel, and it makes him pause some. He realises there’s more than likely a reasonable explanation as to why she’s awake at such an hour. He's a dick, but he's not a bloody monster, and as he sees her eyes well up with tears, he decides his anger can be put on the backburner.

 "Why are you even awake?" At the softened tone in his voice, Y/N seems to visibly relax some but still remains tense. "I, um, I really hate horror movies, and I was scared, and I couldn't sleep." He sighs, and his voice lowers even more, "Is that why all the lights are on?" She nod's sheepishly, "why didn't you say anythin'? You were the first to bloody agree to watch the movie." 

"You already hate me enough, I didn't want to give you another reason!" Harry's not sure why his chest slightly aches at that, because if he's honest, she's right, he doesn't really like her at all. As soon as she’d walked through the door and up the stairs to get sorted in her new room, he'd approached Mitch. He'd even made a proper scene, asking why she had to quarantine with them. Mitch had defended her, pointing out that everyone else liked her perfectly fine so far, which Harry supposes was a part of his problem with her. He had made sure she knew of his distaste too, barely even paying her mind, and only doing so to mock her. 

So why it felt like his heart was cracking just slightly, he'll never know, but it does lead him to walk towards her slowly, "I can't really sleep either, did you want to watch tv with me until you can?" If Harry was truthful, he'd actually been sleeping like a baby before he heard the cupboard doors shut slightly above acceptable volume considering the time. However, the way her mouth pouted somewhat, and her eyes misted as she acknowledged his dislike for her made him feel awful. 

So as he sits on the couch with her, now donned with his own steaming cup of hot chocolate, he leaves the lights on and gives her his favourite blanket to wrap herself in. He sits on the opposite side of the couch and tries his hardest not to fall asleep, so Y/N could feel somewhat protected.

After a few episodes of 'SpongeBob' had played he looks over to the other side of the sofa and sees Y/N fast asleep, snoring with her head tilted at a slightly unnatural angle. He can't help the smile that finds its way onto his face, as he turns off the television and settles himself further into the couch to hopefully catch a few hours of sleep too. 

——

To say Y/N is confused would be an understatement. While she wasn't expecting to wake up to Harry presenting a friendship bracelet and a new found love for her, she was expecting him to at least stop hating her.

She was surprised at his kindness last night. She knows Harry gave her his favourite blanket. Jeff was always griping on movie nights because Harry manages to nab it before Jeff has the chance and although he claimed he couldn't sleep, Harry's croaky voice and dishevelled hair led her to believe he was in fact lying.

She definitely hadn't expected him to offer to watch cartoons with her. She also definitely had not expected to wake in the middle of the night to find herself pressed against him with his arms tightly wrapped around her.

 Y/N briefly considered moving back to her side of the couch, but if she was being entirely truthful, she missed cuddling. It was one of her favourite things about being in a relationship, and ever since her last one had crashed and burned, she missed the simple feeling of being held. So in her sleep-muddled state, she decided to stay put and hope Harry was as avid a cuddler as she was.  

To be honest, after all that, she thought he'd at least start to acknowledge her existence, or at least not act as if it was the bane of his. However, when Y/N awakes the next day, Harry is in the kitchen with Jeff and Sarah, debating on where to start their tour when quarantine ends. He moves animatedly and is clearly laughing and joking about as he usually does with the other occupants of the house. But when she enters, he instantly stops talking and instead puts his head down, seemingly very focused on shovelling his pancakes into his mouth. 

Y/N hopes, with every part of her being, that he didn't wake up feeling disgusted by her unconscious affection, but she knew it was a real possibility. And suddenly it feels like she had taken one step forward and two giant steps back.

So yes, Y/N is understandably confused. 

——

When Harry had woken up overheated, and with a stifling sense of claustrophobia, he was understandably confused. As he opens his eyes, he recognises the living room's shaggy carpet and cream walls; however, it takes him a few seconds to process why he was actually here rather than in his own bedroom.

The pressure against his chest causes him to startle some, and when he looks down to see Y/N still huddled under his favourite blanket but now pressed against him rather than the opposite end of the couch, the feeling doesn't fade but instead escalates.

How did they end up in this position? Harry knew he was a cuddler, any past lover would be able to tell you that, but that was usually with people he... liked? Why the fuck was she on top of him?

He can just see the side of her face, while the other looks to be uncomfortably pressed against him. Her hair no longer resembles the bun she usually goes to sleep with but a nest upon her head, and what looks like dried drool is smeared across the corner of her rosy lips. 

Harry can admit she's cute. In a puppy that's just been kicked kind of way. He feels compelled to brush the strands of hair away from her face and wipe the spit away with the hem of his shirt, but Y/N moving in her sleep draws his focus away. He sees his lanky legs tangled with hers and for the first time notices his arms also wrapped around her, keeping her close. 

While a half-asleep Y/N is clearly trying to change her position, his gangly limbs keep her from doing so. And Harry panics. He should not be cuddling with Y/N of all people. Instantly and as gently as possible, he rolls her off him and stands from the couch, only to hear a muffled groan of opposition from the sleeping girl. 

Harry was confused, to say the least. He knows it's not a big deal. Two, friends? No. Acquaintances? Hm nope, 'roommates?'... had fallen asleep next to each other on the couch and woken up slightly tangled. It wouldn't be that much of an issue if the last person Harry had woken up next to hadn't been the ex-girlfriend he was very much still broken-hearted because of. Don't get him wrong, it had felt nice to be close to someone again, but perhaps that's the reason why Harry begins to panic even more. 

So, Harry folds up the blanket he had been using, walks to the toilet and convinces himself not to think of it again. And it's also for this reason, that Harry can't seem to look Y/N in the eye as she walks into the kitchen. He knows she's looking at him in confusion, and he feels slightly guilty, but what was he supposed to do? Greet her with a cuddle and ask if she'd slept as well as he did? No, Harry would act like nothing had happened, and pray that a problem wouldn't arise from that.

But of course, Harry should have known better. 

——

Y/N was quite the baker. She had worked a few summers in her Aunties little bakery and had loved it, but even with her passion and keen eye for icing cakes, there was only so much sweet treat making she could do. She was more participating in copious amounts of isolation baking to please poor Sarah, who was struggling with boredom, and who also happened to love sweets. 

So, whenever Sarah would run into her room with a new suggestion, or send her a link to a 'totally awesome' muffin recipe, Y/N would simply bite her tongue and help gather the ingredients. They had already managed to make cupcakes, banana bread, chocolate chip cookies and cheesecake. So when a new recipe comes through while Y/N reads her book in front of the pool, she wonders what other baked goods could even possibly exist for them to make. 

Alas, macarons. Y/N sighed and walked to the kitchen, where she knew Sarah would be preparing their ingredients. "Hey bug, ready to bake the best macarons ever?" On the inside, Y/N started dramatically weeping, but on the outside, she exclaims, "sure am! These might be a bit more difficult than anything we've tried though." Sarah scoffs, "oh please, we're up for the challenge." 

It's then Y/N notices Harry sitting at the island bench, and he catches her staring, "what? 'M bored." She only nods in response, not really one for conflict. "Are you helping us cook? We could use an extra hand." Y/N kind of hopes he'd say yes, maybe a bit of cooperative, team bonding would mend whatever weird rift they had between them. 

However, Harry screws up his nose at her suggestion as if what she had said was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Before he has the chance to snarkily reply to her, Sarah butts in, "Harry actually used to be a baker! Didn't you H." Harry can see Y/N's eyes light up and knows that whatever comes out of her mouth next, he was more than likely going to despise. "I used to work in a bakery too!"

Now, if there was an award for sarcasm, Y/N's sure Harry would probably win it. When he pulls his lips into an over-exaggerated smile and says, "twinnies!" with such derision that it burns, Y/N's smile falls. She didn't know what his problem was. Had it really bothered him that much that they'd accidentally cuddled in their sleep? Who had hurt the poor guy so much that a simple night-time spoon was the be-all or end-all? 

She really hadn't meant it, guessed she'd missed sleeping next to a warm body and naturally gravitated towards him. She liked a good cuddle, for fuck's sake, who didn't? If she could turn back time, she would've stayed in bed, wracked with fear if it meant she wouldn't have to deal with Harry's bullshit.

Rather than responding, Y/N puts her head down and begins to read the instructions Sarah had helpfully printed out. Harry is about to make a snide comment, praying that her baking abilities have improved since the carrot cake she had attempted to make, but he gets distracted by the way the afternoon sun is hitting her skin. 

Was Y/N kind of attractive? For the first time, he notices that while she had similar features to his ex, Y/N was pretty on her own accord. 

While often messy, her hair looked so soft, and her eyes were wide and held a sense of innocence. If Harry looked close enough, he could see the tiny acne spots she hadn't bothered to cover and the small bags under her eyes. He briefly wonders if she'd been getting enough sleep and if he had any of the 'sleepy-time' tea left that had worked so well for him before he realises what he was thinking. 

This was Y/N, not Elle, not some chick he'd been fucking, it was Y/N. Maybe he was just confused about his feelings. That was the first time he'd slept next to someone in a while. And well, Y/N was an admittedly pretty girl, and Harry was an admittedly lonely guy who was attracted to pretty girls…

Yeh, there was nothing for him to worry about. 

Y/N mistakes Harry's staring as a glare and does her best to avoid looking at him. She didn't want him to see the well of tears in her eyes and give him the satisfaction. By now, she knew he had meant to upset her, and he had succeeded. 

It was a shame, he really was an attractive guy. Y/N is fully aware that if she'd seen him at a bar, acting the way he did with Sarah and the guys, she'd be instantly in love. She imagines him at school years ago, he probably would’ve been the guy that everyone developed a crush on at least once, boys and girls alike, and has no doubt he probably knew it too. 

Unfortunately, Y/N had not met him in a way akin to a romantic novel. No, she only knew him as an ass who tended to treat her like the dirt stuck to the treads of his overpriced shoes. The only thing Y/N could do was just try her best to ignore him. 

——

As it turns out, Y/N was right, macarons were a lot harder than anything Sarah, and she had previously tried to make. Y/N was tired, frustrated and too sweaty for simply baking glorified cookies. The macarons had taken so long to make, and worst of all, the first batch had come out of the oven flat and stiff as a board. Sarah had pulled out the tray as Y/N was beginning to wash the bowls with a hesitant, "are they supposed to be flat?" 

Turns out they were not supposed to be flat at all. Y/N tried to hide her distaste as she chewed through one of the shells, but when she saw Sarah's face mirroring hers, she giggled. Harry, who had been sitting at the bench, completing a crossword puzzle, also laughed, "guess you aren't as good at baking as you thought you were." 

Y/N would be offended, but notices he's mainly talking to Sarah, and his jesting tone suggests he's not even acknowledging her. "Here, try one. They aren't that bad," Sarah hands him one and he huffs before taking a bite, "better not poison me. You'll have millions of fans to answer to." 

As he chews, it’s apparent that he's not particularly enjoying it. After a hefty swallow, he tugs at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as if in deep thought. "These are single-handedly the worst macarons I've ever had in my entire life. And I say that with absolute confidence." 

While Sarah scoffs and laughs, admonishing Harry with a gentle slap on his arm, Y/N is entirely distracted. She had never seen anyone else with the same habit as her ex. Ben would tug at his bottom lip when deep in thought, and there Harry was, exhibiting the exact same habit. She was astonished, and she hates to admit it, but small butterflies form in the pit of her stomach. She always had, for some unknown reason found it an oddly attractive trait.

While others might be attracted to muscles or deep dimples, Y/N found the little quirks of others most captivating. She loved the drunken ramblings and the uncontrollable tears during sad films. She loved watching people discover their favourite song and the way they would sing under their breath. She loved the unmade beds, dust-covered books, and overwatered plants. She loved the way people would stutter on certain words or adopt weird nicknames they had heard in their favourite movies. She loved pet peeves and the stories behind them and the routines that they followed. Y/N had always loved people. She loved the things that made individuals uniquely them, and this quirk that Harry shared with Ben, was no different. 

If he notices her staring, he doesn't draw attention to it, only continues to banter with Sarah, while Y/N stands in the middle of the kitchen, lost in thought. It’s Sarah's voice that draws her out of her reverie, "c'mon Y/N let's try another batch. I want to surprise Mitch for movie night, he loves these things."

——

This movie-night, Y/N wanted to make sure she would be able to sleep at the end of it, and for that reason, horror movies were off the table- much to Harry's dismay. Sarah, Mitch and Jeff, readily agreed, and after some pushing from Jeff and the girls, everyone agreed to watch a rom-com. The question was which one. 

As Sarah scrolls through the movie selections, 'Clueless' catches Y/N’s eye, and she immediately yells out the suggestion with vivid excitement and is promptly met with... silence. "Guys? Clueless is icon-" Y/N starts, only to be interrupted by none other than Harry, "'s a shit movie, we aren't watching it." Before Y/N can object, Sarah comes to her defence, "oi H, don't be an asshole. We know it was Elle's favourite, don't need to take it out on poor Y/N."

While Y/N prides herself on being understanding and kind, she knows she can be a tad oblivious to what's going on around her at times. She had tried to pick up on it when she noticed it and improve because it had indeed gotten her into some awful situations. And if only Y/N had paid a bit more attention to the situation around her, she may not have spat out her next words. She may have noticed Harry's misty eyes and pursed lips, Sarah's empathetic gaze towards him, Mitch's awkward glance in Harry's direction and Jeff's head buried in his hands. Alas, she didn't.

 "Who's Elle?"  

Silence. Y/N is met with nothing but silence. After a while, she can vaguely hear Jeff letting out the breath of air he had clearly been holding in, and Mitch's mumbled "oh god" under his breath, but she was much too focused on Harry's gaze that was now piercing into hers. "None of your business," he gets out through gritted teeth. 

Y/N is somewhat taken aback, she can clearly see that whoever Elle was, she was a sensitive topic for Harry and immediately tries to backtrack. "Oh, um I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" For the second time that night, Harry interrupts her. "Does anyone want popcorn? We forgot to get some." He stands from the couch, now avoiding Y/N's gaze altogether, and she looks around the room to try and gauge the situation. 

The only one in the room paying her any notice is Sarah, who shares the same empathetic look with her that she had given Harry not two minutes ago. Sarah mouths ‘ex-girlfriend' at Y/N, and it's safe to say she feels awful. While she didn't particularly like Harry, she would never intentionally hurt anyone, and she makes the snap decision to follow him, in order to apologise to him properly. 

When she enters the kitchen, Harry is leaning on the counter facing away from her. His shoulders seem tense, and his hair is dishevelled as if he'd been continuously running his fingers through it.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring up such a sensitive topic." At her voice, Harry's shoulders seem to hunch further, and he turns around while taking a deep breath, "just drop it yeah? Think you've done enough." 

Y/N didn't think that was fair. She really hadn't known, and if she had, she wouldn't have even thought of mentioning it. "I didn't know Harry. I won't bring her up again." Y/N had grown familiar with the way Harry's accent thickened sometimes. It happened when he was tired or bored. It was most frequently when he was angry, which seemed to be a common occurrence when she was concerned, and now was no exception. "No shit, stop stickin' your nose into other people's business." 

In any other circumstance, Harry might have noticed the way Y/N's eyes instantly started to water, or how she'd retreated and hunched slightly into herself in submission. Harry had noted she was a sensitive little thing, and while he often tried to get on her nerves, when he saw her nose twitch and eyes mist up, he knew to back off. But currently, he could only see red, and the fact Y/N had made no attempt to move, made his fury run even more rampant through his veins. “Fuck off Y/N, I'm not kiddin'. Go back to the living room." 

"But Harry, I-" Y/N attempts to get out, but Harry's raised voice causes her to immediately stop. "I said, fuck off!" At that, Y/N snaps. For weeks, she had been doing nothing but try to please Harry, but there was just no pleasing him. He was arrogant, apathetic to everyone around him, pretentious, stubborn and worst of all, just plain rude. 

"You're a real asshole, you know that. I understand you're upset, and I'm sorry I caused it, but you don't need to treat me like shit,” she sniffles. “I have tried so fucking hard to get on your good side, but I'm done trying. It's time for you to wake up and realise not everyone is going to hurt you like precious Elle clearly did." Y/N expects Harry to do many different things, she prepares for him to begin screaming, perhaps start crying? She briefly wonders if he would go so far as to push her out of the way and storm out of the room. 

Although, one prospect she didn’t consider was for him to start laughing. "Oh Jesus pet, you think you're that special? You think you can even begin to be compared to her? Think I'm scared you'll.. what? Break my heart?" As he continued to speak, the sound of his voice grew as did his rage. The veins on the side of his neck only became more pronounced, and the crease in his brow caused his whole face to contort. 

The increase in volume had caused an audience to gather. Jeff, Sarah and Mitch stand in the kitchen entrance helplessly watching the two rip into each other. Mitch is the first to step in, "Harry c'mon, that's enough." 

"Fuck off Mitch, stay out of it." He turns back to Y/N, "please, sweetheart, save yourself the heartbreak. Have you ever considered that maybe I just don't like you? You're fucking annoying, and your pathetic attempts to get me to like you are even more so. What were you hoping would come from it? I'd ignore the fact you grate on my nerves 24/7 and pay you a bit of attention? Maybe even get you off once or twice? Is that it?"

Sarah is next to attempt to break up the fight, "Y/N don't bother, Harry's just upset."

It took a lot to get Y/N mad. She was usually calm, maybe a bit emotional, but very rarely did she raise her voice. But Harry, with his constant grouching and aggressive nature, had pushed her well and truly past that point. "Save it, Sarah. Are you fucking serious Harry? I was just trying to be a nice person. I'm not sure how to tell you this, but not everybody is trying to get into your pants. Guess you'd be so used to girls throwing themselves at you until they have a fucking conversation with you and see what a dick you actually are." 

He snarls at that, "trust me pet, they're proper gaggin' for it." Y/N scrunches her nose in disgust, "You're fucking disgus-" The quietest of the group is the next to interrupt. "Oh for fucks sake, both of you, shut up!" 

Jeff was usually quietly spoken and hardly ever lost his temper, he was similar to Y/N in that regard. As Harry's manager, he had formed a close relationship with the green-eyed boy over the past few years, and not once had Harry ever heard Jeff raise his voice. So when Jeff yells, even Harry knows it's time to back off. He stays quiet and instead gives Y/N one last lingering glare before retreating upstairs to the safety of his room. 

Y/N can't help but burst into tears. She hated conflict, and would usually avoid it at all costs, but Harry deserved to be put in his place a bit. Immediately, Sarah is at her side, attempting to console her, but it only makes her cry harder. Y/N feels pathetic, she hated crying in front of people, and Jeff and Mitch's lost stares were not helping the situation. Sarah follows Y/N's eye line, "can you both get out for a bit?" Both boys all but run out of the kitchen. Now that they were alone, Y/N allows herself to really cry, hoping a good sobbing session would clear her thoughts and emotions from the situation. 

——

Harry was sad. He was not going to say he was always sad, because, in actual fact, Harry was happy a lot of the time. He could admit he had a good life, filled with love, happiness and fun, but there were some times when joy felt more like a mirage to him, something unattainable. 

And maybe it just wasn’t for him, maybe true happiness wasn’t in his cards. 

He was someone who quickly became obsessed, found solace and comfort in certain things. Sometimes so much so it became a flaw, something he felt he would die if he lived without, and one of those was Elle. 

It used to be his mum, then music, then Niall, then Mitch, then Elle and then... nothing. Harry hadn’t found something or someone he felt he could rely on entirely since her. It seemed now he only had himself, and in his mind, that was a potentially dangerous thing. His mum was miles away, Mitch found his own solace with Sarah, Elle had left him, and Harry had never felt so alone. 

Isolation made it worse, he couldn’t distract himself with performing anymore, with drinking his body weight in alcohol or finding pretty girls who looked eerily similar to his ex, to spend a few hours with. So often he found himself uncontrollably crying, alone in bed. Harry never felt shame in crying, but there was something particularly mortifying about being loved by millions of people worldwide, yet still sobbing into his pillow because his girlfriend had broken up with him. Not only dumped him but had cheated on, destroyed him and ripped his heart into little shreds. 

And that’s where Harry was now. Lying in bed, his pillowcase wet with tears, eyes stinging and red, his cheeks stained and raw from his constant rubbing at them, and his back aching from the occasional sob pulling at the already taut muscles. 

Harry just needed a hug. He needed someone to tell him it was okay, that things would work out because at this point he honestly didn’t know himself. 

——

The next few days in the house are hell. Not just for Harry and Y/N but for everyone stuck isolating in the space. Y/N and Harry refused to talk to each other, only sharing pointed glares. Harry does all he can to piss her off, without ever having to say a word. While out for his regular morning walk to buy coffee, he purposely 'forgets' Y/N's. When it was his night to cook, he plays the English rap that he knew she hated at full volume, while making prawn pasta. Which really wouldn't have been an issue, if Y/N wasn't bloody allergic to seafood. While he claimed to not know, Y/N saw through him. Just the week before she had refused to eat lunch when Jeff had made tuna sandwiches and had clearly explained why. 

Y/N tried not to let it bother her and instead did everything she could to avoid him. When he'd come home with everyone's regular coffee order but hers, she exclaimed she "preferred homemade!" and brewed her own cup. She put in headphones and shut her door in an attempt to drown out the crap he called music. And when Harry had placed a massive bowl of steaming pasta that she couldn't fucking eat in front of her, Y/N smiled and ordered pizza instead. 

Mitch struggled through the week, staying as quiet as he usually was. If he was honest, he wished he was just quarantining with Sarah. He loved Harry but also knew that he could be a dick when he wanted to be. So despite Harry's constant prodding for him to join in on shit-talking Y/N, Mitch tried to stay out of it. 

Sarah spent the days keeping Y/N company. She felt slightly guilty that she had invited her to spend isolation stuck in a house with what happened to be the only person Sarah had ever met, who hated Y/N. Instead, she listened to her rant when Harry couldn't overhear. She baked cookies with her, and they sang shitty pop music at the top of their lungs whenever Harry decided to blast his music.  

Once again, Jeff surprised everyone. While they were used to his calming and genuine presence by now, no one expected him to play peacekeeper. Harry supposes he should've seen it coming, being his manager for four years, meant the guy had to have some kind of problem-solving skills. So Harry promptly nicknames Jeff, 'Switzerland' and despite his denials, Harry knew Jeff secretly loved it. 

Jeff spends the next few days quietly talking to all the other house members like some sort of pseudo spy. And finally, after three long days of combat, by some miracle, convinces both Harry and Y/N to talk out their issues and apologise. 

At first, both Y/N and Jeff agreed he should be in the room to mediate, but upon the request of Harry, he was waiting just outside the door, waiting for any sign of a fight, to run in and play referee. 

So that led them here, with Harry sitting on one end of the couch, oozing with confidence while actually being a mess on the inside, and Y/N on the other, nervously picking at the hem of her jumper. 

Harry is the first to speak, "look Y/N I'm sorry. You were right, Elle's a bit of a sore spot for me, and I overreacted." She nods in acknowledgement before speaking herself, "yeh, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pried like I did.” He nods along, still somewhat convinced he wasn’t entirely in the wrong. 

It’s the next question that makes Harry’s blood turn cold, “I just… I just need to ask why? What did I do for you to not like me? It started before last night. Before I mentioned… her.” Y/N scoots around the heartbreaker’s name.  

She watches as Harry bites his lip in what looked like deliberation before he replies, a deep sigh sitting on his pretty lips. “I don’t know. I know that’s a shitty thing to say, I treated you like shit for weeks, but it’s true. I just don’t know.” 

Y/N’s taken aback. Weeks of torture, hatred and tears and he couldn’t even tell her why he’d acted the way he did. “Harry, you can’t be serious. There must be something! You... you were so mean.” 

Y/N watches as tears well in his eyes, and she briefly wonders if she shouldn’t have pushed the topic. “I don’t know, I don’t fuckin’ know.” He lashes out, once again, his anger getting the best of him. 

Y/N throws her hands up in defeat, “I don’t know what you want from me, Harry. I’m trying here I really am, but you won’t give me anything. What do you want me to do?” 

“I know you are,” he all but chokes out. Harry didn’t know how to express himself, a million thoughts were running rampant through his mind, and he felt like if he were to try and speak, he’d have to spend hours detangling each thought from the other like shitty Christmas lights. He takes another deep sigh. He had to try, he knew it wasn’t fair to Y/N. And well, Harry wasn’t exactly happy either, maybe it would help to tell someone how he felt. 

“It’s just when I look at you... I see her. I see her in the clothes you wear and the way you laugh. You look the same for fucks sake, give me the same doe-eyed look and.. she never apologised. Never said a word, I found her in bed with my… with my best mate, and she just fucking left,” he cries out. “And when I first saw you, and you gave me that fuckin’ look I just... I just got so angry.” Harry’s face briefly scrunches in frustration, but it’s quickly overcome with grief. 

He begins to cry harder, his shoulders racking with sobs and Y/N doesn’t know what to do. She sits helplessly, watching the man she very much despised breaking down in front of her, crying previously unshed tears with his head in his hands. 

What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t going to say it was alright because it wasn’t. But god, he looks so pitiful, and Y/N knows what it’s like to have a shitty ex. She knows how painful it is to see them again after they’ve just broken your heart, knows how hard it can be to feel completely, totally and 100% betrayed by someone you loved. 

It wasn’t okay, and Y/N doesn’t know if it ever will be, but seeing Harry, the stubborn, prideful man she’d come to know, breaking down in front of her, well Y/N can hardly stand it. 

So she does the first thing she can think of, the one thing that made her feel better after her own breakup. 

She hugs him. 

She feels him tense up in her arms and for a brief second, Y/N wonders if he’s going to push her away, but instead, he relaxes. Even goes so far as to push into her slightly, allowing himself to rest his head against her chest, with her arms around him like a tantrum-throwing toddler. 

Harry can’t remember the last time he was hugged. Maybe by his mum before the pandemic, probably in a similar situation, crying over Elle in a pathetic attempt to find comfort in anything that wasn’t her arms. 

Harry had returned to LA to record three songs, “it would be two to three weeks max,” Jeff had assured him. But now he was fucking stuck here, in the same place he lived with her, heartbroken in a house with people he loved, but unfortunately would never talk about Elle with. 

Harry missed London. He missed him mum, his sister, the pubs and the tube. He missed hanging out with more mates than he could count, his little writing studio and his cat. Harry missed his own bedroom, his candles that he forgot to pack and his own record collection. Harry missed walking to the little cafe a few streets from his house, he missed the snow. 

But Harry especially missed Elle. 

He missed her cuddles and her sweet little kisses. He missed the way her nose scrunched when he tried to kiss her in public. He missed her laugh and her awful cooking. He missed her book recommendations and her screaming to pop music on the radio. Fuck, he even missed her screaming at him. 

And what a way to make his longing worse, being stuck with the dead ringer of his ex-girlfriend, only to find she was nothing like Elle, which Harry almost hated more. 

Y/N wouldn’t yell at him when he got angry but rather cry, her tears always sending a sharp pain to his chest. And Y/N didn’t pretend nothing worried her or upset her, she was open and honest. When Harry hurt her, he knew, not because she ignored him or called him a prat. No, he knew because she told him, even if it was with tears streaming down her face and a few “assholes” mixed in there. Y/N didn’t call Harry’s hobbies stupid, she liked them too, even had her own silly ones herself. She enjoyed baking, doing puzzles, and reading out loud to herself. She liked Disney movies and hated horror and loved cider but not beer. 

And Harry found himself not hating her at all, but rather himself. Because somehow, within his heartbreak, he had managed to become attracted to someone who looked and acted exactly like his ex on the surface but was someone completely different in every other way. He couldn’t treat her like Elle, couldn’t pretend she’d hurt him just as bad, and he knew that.

No, Y/N was a completely new risk and a new potential heartbreak. Harry was terrified, and this new territory that at first felt so familiar, made his chest ache and his tummy flutter, so he avoided it altogether. Pushed her away before anything could even happen at all, for his own good, to protect a heart that couldn’t take being broken again.

The two of them sat there for what felt like hours. Until Harry’s sobs slowed themselves down, and he was only shivering and sniffling quietly. Y/N continued to hold him, it seemed like he just really needed to be held.

Elle had clearly broken his heart, and Y/N knew that a part of healing was letting this anger and emotion run rampant. So she stayed put, allowing him to just sit in the sadness, and allow himself to feel a little bit of hope that everything would work out eventually. 

“It’s okay Harry. It’s going to be okay.” 

——

Y/N wasn’t sure this was a good idea. How could it be? Not even a few days ago, she and Harry couldn’t stand being in the same room as each other, and now they were alone in a car, on their way to the grocery store. It all felt too domestic.

But this was Harry, and she definitely shouldn’t be worried about the state of her car, or how to subtly remove the McDonalds wrapping on the floor in front of his feet. Just as Harry, after being handed the aux cord, probably shouldn’t have spent half the journey wondering if she liked the song that was playing and looking out of the corner of his eye to judge whether he should skip it or not. 

But here they were, walking on eggshells around each other. Hoping they both wouldn’t do something to accidentally piss off the other. 

If you’d told Harry a week ago that he would be on the way to the grocery store with Y/N by his side, he probably would’ve laughed and faked a gag. But Harry was actually the one who had suggested the trip, much to the surprise of not only Y/N but the rest of the housemates. 

They hadn’t exactly addressed his breakdown, but it seemed they’d both come to a mutual understanding to try and put the past behind them. Harry considered himself lucky, he knew he had caused and furthered the rift in their friendship, and it was because of this he knew he had to put more effort into building the trust between them back up. 

So, when Y/N was recounting the ingredients for the dinner she was planning on making, Harry had asked if she’d just come to save him remembering the long list. Y/N’s first thought was she could probably just write it down for him before she realised he was actually trying to be nice. And that was more than she could say for the last month of her living with him, so she agreed.

The grocery store was busy, filled with impatient mothers and fun-drunk teens, and Y/N was having trouble pushing the cart through the throngs of people. Harry was walking ahead of her, too preoccupied with his list (and she supposes himself) to notice her struggle and she’s never been one to ask for help. So instead tries her best to avoid the ankles of other shoppers and attempts to keep up with the cracking pace Harry had set. 

It’s only when he turns around to find her ten feet behind him, does Harry acknowledge her, his eyebrows pinched in annoyance, “what’s taking you so bloody long?” To say Y/N was taken aback would be an understatement. After everything, he’d manage to stay friendly for what, half a day?

“Excuse me? Doing so well at being friendly Harry, might want to pull it back, before I get the wrong impression.” 

Maybe it was Y/N’s sarcastic words that pulled Harry back, or perhaps he realised himself, but he really hadn't meant to be rude. At first, it was more of a joke, but he guessed that he’d become so accustomed to being snarky with Y/N, it’d come out a lot more maliciously than he’d intended.

“Fuck, what? No- I didn’t mean it like that. I was tryin’ to joke, but it came out wron- Fuck! I’m sorry, okay?” Somewhere in the middle of Harry’s rambling, Y/N starts to giggle. While she had taken it the wrong way, she was mature enough to understand she’d simply interpreted it wrong. 

“Harry relax, look like you're about to pass out. Sorry I took it the wrong way,” she shrugs, “now, where are the pickles? I’ve been craving them for weeks.” Harry’s slightly taken aback, he’d never met someone who could put an extremely valid argument behind them with such ease. 

Harry wouldn’t have blamed Y/N if she’d gotten angry with him, stomped her feet, made a fuss and yelled in his face, after all, he had spoken to her like a prick. But just like that, she had defused the argument and made Harry feel better instantly, even though he was in the wrong. Nonetheless, he follows her through the isles, making sure to help her steer the trolley when the crowd was busiest. 

Harry had actually started to enjoy himself on this trip, he wasn’t going to lie. Y/N had an easy going way about her that he hadn’t really bothered to notice before. It made it easy to chat about nonsensical things, including Harry’s first dog and his preferred brand of nail polish while they peruse the aisles. He was doing all he could to make sure the rest of the trip didn’t contain any silly arguments like the one that had almost sparked just ten minutes before, and he believes he was doing a good job. 

After stopping by the fruit aisle for some cherries (they were in season, and there was no way Y/N was missing out on the tiny period they were in season for, even if they were ridiculously overpriced,) they reach the aisle that contains pickles. Finally, Y/N had been craving them for weeks, and nothing could stop her now, not even the fact that they were on the top shelf. Y/N’s brows pinch in annoyance, who put pickles that high up anyway? 

She halfheartedly sticks her hand in the air, her fingers barely brushing against the bottom of the jar before looking behind her, watching Harry laughing at her struggle. “Are you going to help me or just keep that smug smile on your face?” 

This makes Harry’s smirk upturn even more, turning into a full boyish grin, dimples and all. “Say please sweetheart, and I might just consider it.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please,” and although it is sarcastic and hardly genuine Harry takes it, walking over and reaching for the last jar of pickles. 

What happens next could be blamed on many different factors; the humidity in the supermarket being higher than the average store, it could be blamed on Harry’s sweaty fingers or maybe even the worker who decided to put them on the top shelf in the first place. 

Whatever the fault, Harry grabs the container and almost delivers it safely to the cart, until it slips from his grip and instead ends in a puddle of shattered glass, stray pickles and dripping juice. And of fucking course it’s the last jar, and of fucking course it’s Harry who drops it, right in front of the girl who’s been craving them for so long. 

Harry is almost scared to look up at Y/N’s face, knowing he was more than likely going to be met with a pouting, red, furious mix. She really had been talking about the fucking pickles for weeks, and after both Jeff and Sarah had forgotten to get them in the last two shopping trips, he can imagine her desperation.

It’s as if time was working in slow motion, Harry sees the residue pickle juice dripping from the handle of the shopping trolley, can feel his sock getting progressively wetter as the liquid seeps into his canvas sneaker. And Harry immediately starts to apologise, “fuck I’m so sorr-“ but is interrupted by Y/N manically laughing. Well, he had expected a lot of different reactions, but he hadn’t expected… laughter?

“How did that even happen,” she gets out through her laughter, “you’re an idiot!” Harry can’t help but join in. He was covered in pickle juice, and in hindsight, the situation was pretty funny. “Oi, ‘s not my fault the jar was more slippery than the average.” This only makes Y/N cackle harder, holding her stomach as though it was hurting. 

“Hold on, I’ll get something to clean it up.” As Harry watches Y/N walk away, probably to find a worker, he can’t help but think again how different Y/N was from Elle. Harry distinctly remembers shopping with her one Christmas and accidentally dropping the last box of red and white candy canes (what can he say, he can be a right clutz.) She had been shaking with fury, voice dripping with poison as she asked Harry why he was “such a fucking idiot?” He guesses she was stressed because of the time of the year, but Harry had always hated her vicious temper, which Y/N apparently lacked. 

Harry had only really seen Y/N angry or upset until now, but he could safely assume that was of his own doing. When they were getting along, she seemed to make him feel better without even trying. She could laugh despite herself, and poke fun at Harry without feeling like she was actually reprimanding him for something, and Harry, well he hadn’t really experienced that before.

Harry sees Y/N returning, with what looks to be a less than impressed worker following behind her. That is until she sees Harry standing there in all his six-foot glory, covered in pickle juice. 

She seemed to be around 20, with blonde hair braided into two plaits that sat around her neck. She had bright green eyes, and if she was a little older, Harry probably would have said she was cute. And by the looks of it, she would’ve revelled in such treatment, when she approaches Harry with a, “I’m so sorry, Mr Styles!” Harry waves off the apology, he had been the one to drop the pickles anyway. “No worries love, ‘m sorry bout’ the mess.” 

It’s like her eyes brighten two shades at the pet name as she begins to sweep up the broken glass, blushing as she does, “oh don’t even worry! Can see you made a mess of yourself as well.” Y/N can’t help but laugh, was she actually trying to flirt with a pickle stained Harry? He catches Y/N laughing behind the worker and grins, “sure did. I’m a bit of a clutz sometimes.” 

Now, Harry knew that his personality was very likeable, he was easy to talk to, and he wasn’t exactly bad to look at, so he was somewhat used to casual flirting. Who was he to pull up someone trying to shoot their shot? Usually, he preferred to go along with it, stay polite and at the end of the interaction, cut the conversation before anything serious came of it. And the girl (Hannah, according to her name tag) standing in front of him, cleaning his mess, was no exception. 

“Can see that,” she winks. Actually, fucking winks and Harry can’t help but feel slightly smug, his presumption had clearly been correct. He doesn’t see the harm in playing along, “oh can you? Thought customer service was all about being nice to the customer,” he teases lightly. Hannah giggles flirtatiously and if Harry thought she was blushing before, his effect on her is multiplied. “I’m nice, I promise!” 

Y/N almost gags, she hated PDA at the best of times, but to see them both drooling over each other made her feel sick to her stomach. Harry’s smooth reply does nothing to quell her nausea, “mhm, I bet.” Y/N would literally rather walk home than be subjected to this torture any longer. “Okay! Thanks again for being so understanding, c’mon Harry, we better get going.” 

Harry thanks the server again, giving her a small wave and a cheeky grin as he follows Y/N to the counter to check out their items. “Really, Harry? She looked about 15 years younger than you.” Harry scoffs, “fifteen years?! You think she was twelve, do you? How old do you think I am?” 

Y/N doesn’t hesitate to respond, “old enough to know better than to flirt with someone so young.” 

He couldn’t believe she was pulling this. Harry was a flirty person naturally! He never meant anything by it, and very well knew when it was appropriate and when it definitely wasn’t. He didn’t see how a little friendly conversation could hurt in this situation. “Oh please, she was at least twenty, and I was hardly flirtin’” As the worker is scanning their items, Y/N is packing them into the reusable shopping bags. “Still gross.” 

Was Y/N jealous? For a second, Harry felt the frustration swim through his veins like poison, but the knowledge of Y/N potentially acting out of envy acts as an antidote. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous lovey.” It was Y/N’s turn to scoff. If she’s honest, she’s not sure why the sight of Harry flirting with the server annoyed her so much. She was young, but Harry was right, she was very clearly of age and also stunning. 

Maybe it was the fact she hadn’t acknowledged Y/N with more than an eye roll but readily grovelled at Harry’s feet. It could’ve been leftover frustration from the pickles she would have to hold out from for another week. Or maybe it was that she didn’t like him calling someone else ‘love.’ Perhaps she was just frustrated that it had taken her months for Harry to be civil with her, but had taken ‘Hannah’ all but five minutes. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like the pit in her stomach or the tingling in the tips of her fingers. “Not a chance, Harry.” 

Harry just smiled in response, while Y/N felt waves of negative emotions rolling through her, he felt butterflies erupting from the pit of his tummy, a small fluttering reaching all the way to his heart. Harry was ready to admit, Y/N’s jealousy made him happy. He was a narcissist; that he knew, and a pretty girl getting frustrated that his attention wasn’t purely focused on her, made his vain little heart soar. 

This little shopping expedition had given both of them huge revelations. Harry realised, the thought of Y/N being jealous over him made him extremely happy, and maybe even gave him some new spank bank material? Y/N realised that while she and Harry could be civil, it didn’t mean they didn’t know the exact places to poke and prod at each other to cause a reaction. 

——

It was Y/N's turn to pick a card, and although she'd initially been hesitant to play this game, she could admit she was having fun. When Harry had first pulled out 'Truth, Dare or Drink,' her first instinct was to ridicule him and say, "I didn't realise we were still in eighth grade," but she bit her tongue. After the supermarket, she still felt like she was continually filtering everything she said, worried a single word may be the negative turning point for their relationship. 

And well, after a few rounds, Y/N realised the game was much too risky for a bunch of eighth-graders and found some questions too intrusive even for her adult self to answer. However, with the help of at least half a bottle of chardonnay, she found herself managing just fine. Jeff had called it a night a few rounds ago, claiming he was "getting too old for this shit," but it didn't stop the rest of the group from playing.  

"Okay, ask the player to your left what their favourite sex position is. If they can't answer- both of you drink four sips." Immediately, Y/N turns to Sarah, who happens to be sitting on her left and also happens to be bright red. With a quick, "come on babe, all friends here," from Harry, Sarah buries her head in her hands before mumbling, "from behind." The answer causes an eruption of giggles and hollers from the very tipsy group and a sly smirk from Mitch, making Y/N laugh harder. 

"Alright shut up you lot," Sarah grumbles before picking up her own card. "Dare one player to share their best and worst hookup, or both of you finish your drinks. Okay, well the only one mean enough to name and shame would be Harry, so off you go H." This is met with a disgruntled, "oi" from the man in question and a casual "not wrong," from Mitch. While Harry huffs, he seems to have no issue and responds immediately, almost like he had the answer on the tip of his tongue. 

"Best was Elle, obviously. And worst, um," he deliberates for a few seconds before continuing, "was this guy I met in Brazil, he was awful! Didn't even prep my poor arse, just went straight in for the kill. Was scarred for months." He's met with roaring laughter, and at first, he tries to look pissed but ends up giggling along with them. While his poor bum really had taken a beating that night, in hindsight it was a funny sex horror story for a drunken night. "C'mon Mitchy boy, your turn." 

Mitch picks up the card and immediately scoffs, "This one's to all players, take two sips if you have ever been attracted to someone else currently playing this game." Unsurprisingly both Mitch and Sarah drink, sending cheeky winks over their cups to each other. But what shocks every player at the table is both Y/N and Harry lifting their glasses. They make eye contact with each other as they are sipping and Harry raises a questioning eyebrow towards her. 

Y/N quickly looks over to Sarah, to see her sitting with her own bewildered look, glancing between them. She had known Y/N enjoyed Harry's music, but maybe didn't know how much she also fancied him- that is until she had a conversation with him. 

"So you've either had the hots for me, my girlfriend or the chick you hate, nice H," a very inebriated Mitch says with a laugh. If Y/N hadn't already been watching him, she might have missed the flash of guilt that flickers through Harry's eyes. He looks over at her with an apologetic look, "I never said I hated-" 

"It's fine, Harry. Just pick a card, it's your turn." Y/N interrupts him, she wasn’t going to lie and say that it didn’t sting. However, while she knew they'd come to a newfound understanding, Y/N was well aware that it had initially come from Harry's resentment of her. He sighs but picks up a card anyway, pausing some, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks, before reading it aloud. "Uh... give the person to your left a hickey, or finish your drink." At first, Y/N laughs until she realises that the person sitting to his left would be her. 

In an attempt to lighten the situation, Y/N spits out, "go on, start drinking then." Mitch and Sarah start to laugh, "I could've called that one," Sarah chuckles, but Harry looks rather unimpressed. While she actually didn't care if Harry were to give her a hickey, (let's be real he was a dick, but a hot one at that!) she knew he would be thoroughly put out by it. They had become civil, not ‘drunkenly-give-one-another-a-hickey’ level friends.

"I'm not the one with the problem. I doubt he'd wanna kiss on the girl he hates." Y/N had meant it to be a joke, she really had! But the underlying biting tone would be almost impossible to miss. She was definitely playing with fire here, knowing Harry could snap at any moment. She watches as Harry's nostrils flare slightly before he bites back, "no problem here, you're just scared you'd enjoy it too much sweetheart." At that Y/N scoffs, his arrogance never ceased to amaze her, "oh please, don't give yourself so much credit, Harry."  

He laughs, "are you saying you wouldn't?"

"Almost certain of it," she quickly retaliates. Now, Harry knew he was a dick. He knew he could be impatient and rude. Was aware of his short temper and sometimes biting passive-aggressiveness. Had been well informed of his bad habit of sometimes oversharing and even bragging too much. Even knew how annoying his constant discussion of the superiority of salads to veggies could get on the nerves of those around him. 

But the one thing Harry knew for sure, was that he was good at fucking. He loved to see the person he was with, shaking with pleasure below him. Thoroughly enjoyed giving his partner everything he had, to hear them screaming his name with their eyes rolled back in pleasure. Harry liked having sex, and on account of others, Harry was fucking good at it. So Y/N sitting there, doubting he could make her feel all amazing and jittery, probably pissed him off more than it should have. 

"Fucking c' mere then." While Harry had merely said that in the heat of the moment (and possibly to get a rise out of Y/N) he was beyond shocked when she actually got up and stood before him. "I'm here. Now what smartass?" His jaw ticks and he raises an eyebrow, silently questioning Y/N's challenge. Did she really want to get involved in this? Surely she knew Harry would come out victorious. Apparently not, because she crosses her arms and scoffs, "knew you were all talk." 

Now Y/N doesn't want to admit she's intimidated because god this was Harry she was thinking about. However, when he grips her arms, flips her around and pushes her back into the chair he was just occupying, Y/N can't exactly say she's fine and dandy. 

Harry was much taller than her when they were both standing up, but with her sitting down, he towers above her, and she can't help but feel childlike and demure. His shit-eating grin only grows when he sees that, and he slowly bends down until his cologne infiltrates Y/N's nostrils and fills her head with a fog she can't quite get rid of. "What was that, darling?" 

Y/N is willing herself to say anything, literally anything that wouldn't fuel his already raging ego. If she's honest the barely mumbled, "um, nothing," doesn't really cut it, but what was she to do? Before she'd met Harry, Y/N probably would've considered his looks to be something akin to her ‘dream guy.' So, when he places his hands on each armrest beside her, essentially trapping her, it doesn't exactly help to calm her nerves. Harry oozed sex, and if the look in his eye was anything to go off, he knew it. 

As his face becomes level with hers, Y/N can smell the sweet apple cider he had been drinking and can feel the bottom of his unbuttoned shirt brushing against the tops of her thighs. And for the second time that month, Y/N wonders if she should move away from the compromising position she and Harry had found themselves in, but she once again decides against it. Harry places his hand against the side of her neck, hooking his thumb under her jaw. He encourages her to move her head further to the side with some gentle pressure, which she happily obliges to. 

Y/N can't help but inhale sharply when she feels his slightly chilled lips gently brush against her earlobe, before placing a tender kiss behind her ear. "Is this okay?" If Y/N were in a better headspace, she might have tried to play this whole thing off with an indifferent nod. Instead, she feels herself nodding rapidly, and takes a moment to curse herself as she feels Harry's lips curl into a grin at her eagerness. 

Harry allows his lips to run down the side of Y/N's neck so lightly he knew it must be tickling her. Once he reaches her collarbone, he places a quick peck against it before once again trailing his lips up her soft skin, leaving light kisses in his wake. Y/N's breathing stops as she feels Harry's tongue touching her skin as he begins his ascent, leaving a chilling trail that sends shivers through her whole body. 

She feels herself slipping into a hazy state, in which all control was given to Harry, and while her first instinct is to break it, her second is to bask in it. Her decision is hastily rewarded when Harry starts to suction his lips against her. 

Y/N actively silences the whimper that arises from her throat as Harry continues to bruise the skin he kisses, and she briefly wonders if he had heard the beginnings of her mewl as he chuckles, sending a gust of cold hair down her neck. Harry gently bites down on Y/N's throat, which causes a small sting, the aftershocks travelling all the way down to her toes. But his tongue laving over the mark works to quickly soothe the ache. 

While she felt as if she had sat feeling the effect of Harry's mouth for hours, it had only been about ten seconds in reality. But the familiar pull in Y/N's lower stomach screams at her to ignore time, grab his shirt and push her mouth against his. However, the cough heard from behind her, quells these dirtier thoughts almost immediately. And just like that, as quickly as it had come, the pleasuring warmth Harry provided was gone. 

Y/N struggles to flutter her eyes back open, that she hadn't realised had even closed in the first place. 

Well, she wasn't expecting that, and while she assumed Harry would feel the same, his deep smirk tells her something different. He looks at her with a hunger in his eyes, and she briefly wonders if he felt the same pull towards her. Y/N was fighting the urge to drag him to the nearest bedroom and instead clears her throat and looks behind her to assess Mitch and Sarah's reactions. 

Safe to say, they were as shocked as she was, with gaping mouths and wide eyes, everyone sits in silence for what feels like far too long. Y/N was embarrassed. Usually, she hated PDA, yet she'd just let Harry suck on her neck like some kind of B-grade vampire in front of her cousin and her boyfriend. 

Y/N stands back up to move around to her own chair, but with her head down, she misses Harry reaching to brush his knuckles against her own, but only feels the comforting touch. Harry watches as she refuses to meet his eye, and while he enjoyed himself, he hoped he hadn't gone too far with her. But when Sarah grabs her head and pulls it to the side to see the blooming mark on Y/N's skin, Harry can't help but smirk and feel slightly proud. Y/N had said she was okay with him touching her, maybe she was just flustered, and if her bright red cheeks were anything to go by, that's Harry's safest guess. "Jesus H, you really did a number on her." 

Y/N refused to acknowledge the effect Harry had instilled upon her, but she can feel her cheeks radiating a cherry-red heat, and she can only pray no one else notices. "Uh, it's my turn," she manages to choke out, and a quick glance at Harry shows she's not hiding her flustered state as well as she'd hoped. His dimples are on full display, decorated with his complacent grin, and he's sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over one another. 

"Pick the most attractive player, both of you take three sips," you've got to be fucking joking, she was pretty sure everyone knew her answer to that, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. "It's Sarah. Who's next?" Sarah cheers' Y/N's glass and takes her sips as she grabs the next card. 

Y/N can see Harry's disgruntled look and can vaguely hear his murmured, "bullshit," but she only sends him a glare as she takes her three sips. 

——

Harry was drunk. No cut that, he was fucked. It was approximately six ciders ago that he began to feel light and giggly. And then maybe two or so ciders ago he began to have trouble walking in a straight line and was genuinely considering shaving his head. And now, he was here. Planted on the couch watching Y/N and Sarah sing some song he definitely knew but couldn't name, Taylor Swift maybe? 

His head felt heavy, and if he was honest, thoughts were entering his head and then leaving it before he could even acknowledge what they were. He can vaguely recognise Mitch's voice, talking about something that Harry, no matter how hard he tried, could actually listen to. So he sits on the couch and watches Y/N. She looked pretty with her hair down and messy, and Harry wishes he could stop her from dancing and ask if she could just sit next to him instead. But he thinks he's probably just drunk and maybe a bit lonely, so he doesn't. 

He's not sure if he was calling Y/N's name and hadn't realised or if she had noticed how not okay he seemed, but she approaches him anyway. "Harry, are you alright?" She looks worried, and Harry hates that he's made her feel that. He's tempted to use his thumb to mould the lines in her forehead back out like cheap clay, but he's not sure she'd want him to touch her. So he nods lightly, attempting a smile, but she doesn't return it. 

"Sarah, I'm gonna take Harry up to bed, he seems pretty gone." Harry doesn't hear Sarah's response because he's too busy focusing on Y/N's lips and how pretty and puffy they are. He briefly wonders what they'd feel like around the head of his cock, but he's drawn out of those thoughts when he realises she's calling his name. 

"Harry, c'mon, come upstairs to bed with me." Um, had Harry missed something? He doesn't really mind, truthfully he'd quite like to take Y/N upstairs and have his way with her, but, Y/N must see the look on his face because she laughs, "not like that you lecher! God, you really are pissed." 

Harry smiles and takes the hand she's giving him, wrapping his arm around her shoulders for stability. The group had experienced quite a few drunken nights during isolation, but Y/N had never seen Harry this intoxicated before and while she's quite enjoying him acting kind of goofy, she's just praying he doesn't vomit on her during their climb upstairs. 

Y/N does her best to guide Harry to his room, who provides absolutely no help, only giggling to himself as she struggles to hold him up. Finally, she makes it, only realising once she had stepped inside, that she had never actually seen Harry's room before. 

Similarly to Y/N’s, his room has the shell of a guest bedroom, the art on the walls a little too unpersonalised and the furniture stark and white. The bones of the room are fleshed out with Harry’s belongings, clearly in random places that were not permanent, as if he’d placed his records and guitar down the first day he got there, and left them in those exact same places. There are dirty clothes strewn upon the floor, and books sitting next to glasses stacked neatly on the bedside table. Next to them, is a candle that Y/N can’t read the scent of from her position in the doorway, something sweet from the smell permeating through the room, mixing intoxicatingly with Harry’s telltale sandalwood like cologne. 

Harry stands in the middle of the room, clearly having forgotten his purpose as he turns to look back at Y/N with a slightly lost expression. "Want to get into bed Harry?" He nods and stumbles over to his mattress, falling rather than laying in it. As Y/N's about to turn around to go back downstairs, she hears Harry's voice, much quieter than it usually is, "I'm sorry." She's not sure if she heard him correctly. 

"What did you say, Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers. 

"For what?" Y/N knows what he could be sorry for, he did treat her like shit for weeks, but they’d already apologised and somewhat buried the hatchet. "For bein' a dick. You don't deserve it, never did." She walks closer to him, until she stands about a foot from the bed, and can see Harry's eyes full of sorrow and close to tears in the dark. 

"Come on, you're just drunk. If you want to talk about it more in the morning, we can." Y/N knows he'll forget by then, she's not sure he even remembers what he just said. He holds his hand out to her, and she hesitantly takes it, "ya just look so much like her, you know? Act like her too." Harry repeats the same words he’d told you yesterday. 

"Who, Harry?" 

He looks at her with his big green eyes, and she knows he's drunk, and she knows he'll forget this all in the morning, but she can't help but sit down beside him on the bed. 

"Elle." 

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want Harry to burst into tears again, the topic clearly sensitive, let alone in his intoxicated state. So she stays silent, watches as Harry shuts his eyes, and Y/N nearly thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he reopens them again, "nicer than her though. Prettier too." 

Y/N's not going to lie, hearing Harry talk about her in a way that wasn't entirely negative for once was flattering, but she couldn't help but feel it was more the cider talking. She knew how much he missed Elle, that much was obvious, and she had thought that was what had made him hate her so much. She was worried he would wake up angry that he had told her things he hadn't intended to, or even worse, something he hadn't meant. 

So she leans over him to grab the side of the bedsheet he had torn away, but his freezing hand on her neck causes her to pause. His thumb is lightly brushing over the mark he left on her earlier, and Y/N audibly swallows. He was close enough that he could lean in slightly and press his lips against the same spot once more, but he doesn't, only whispers, "looks so good on you." Y/N feels his warm breath against her bare neck as he speaks, causing that pull to return to her lower stomach once more, "H, I don't think we should do this right now." 

Y/N didn’t know what exactly ‘this’ was, she just knew she didn’t want either of them to be intoxicated when it happened. The Harry Y/N knew, would pull back, laugh and ask if she really thought he'd ever want to do 'this' with her, but this intoxicated and unpredictable Harry presses his lips softly to her neck once, before pulling back and sighing. "I know." 

He studies her face carefully before speaking again. "You've never called me H before, I like it." Y/N sighs, "honestly I didn't think we were on that level. Thought you'd get mad at me," she laughs lightly although what she said was true. 

She had thought about adopting the same nickname everyone else in the house used but was too scared he would make fun of her or ask her why she felt she had the right to call him that. So she played it safe, only calling him Harry, but she guessed the nickname slipped out while he was very much inebriated and very much unlikely to say any word of opposition. 

If Y/N didn't know any better, she'd think Harry looked almost hopeful as he whispered, "so we are now?" but the expression is fleeting. She wants to feed into it but isn't sure if it's more her mind playing tricks on her. Showing her things she desperately wants to be true, only to turn around a reveal it was fake the whole time. So she shrugs, "I don't know Harry." 

He nods slowly but doesn't say anything else. "Try to get some sleep." He nods again, "night." 

"Night H." 

——

Harry doesn't know what happened. Had he been drugged? Used as a voodoo doll? Abducted by aliens? Something had happened, because when he woke up with a pounding head, his first feeling was disappointment. But not disappointment about having to nurse a shocking hangover, no, it was disappointing that Y/N wasn't in bed with him. He could’ve sworn she had come upstairs with him. 

Harry was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he didn't hate her and perhaps, just maybe had developed a small crush towards her. But wishing she was cuddling him after a drunken night? That was too close to something serious, something that Harry was definitely not ready for. Not after Elle. 

Walking down the stairs, he wonders if there's a reason for his sudden desperation? He vaguely remembers giving her a hickey, but that was a part of the game. He remembers Y/N walking into his room and sitting on his bed, but can’t recall what was actually said. 

Stepping into the kitchen, feels the same as usual, maybe with added head pain. Mitch is doing the dishes from the breakfast sitting on the table in front of Y/N and Sarah. Everything seems painfully familiar. Except, looking at Y/N now, with sober goggles and daylight, Harry completely understands why drunk him was so enamoured. She looks beautiful, with an oversized tee-shirt barely covering her smooth legs, her hair in a messy bun atop her head, and the striking hickey against her neck painfully obvious. Seeing Y/N with his mark against her neck makes Harry have to will his stiffy away. She hadn't even tried to hide it.

Harry doesn't know how long he'd been standing in the entrance of the kitchen, staring at Y/N like a creep, but she catches his eye and sends him a shy smile. "Mornin' H, brekkies on the table," Mitch states, as Harry quickly returns the smile Y/N gave him and sits across from her, "looks good, man. Thanks for cooking." 

Harry is slightly shocked when Y/N speaks up from the other side of the table, he had been expecting her to ignore him like she had after he’d given her the mark that was causing a tingle in his lower tummy. "How's your head?" She says softly. 

He gives her a small grin, "it's been better if'm honest." She laughs, "yeh, you were pretty fucked last night." Harry can't tell if she's genuinely just making conversation or if she's trying to figure out if he remembered the events that occurred. "Was I? Not too drunk to remember giving you that," he points at her neck with his syrup covered fork. His words have their desired effect as Y/N turns bright red, "really does look good on you love." 

Harry's not sure what he's doing, he's aware of how flirty he is being. While they were now able to be around each other and have a conversation without biting each other’s heads off, hitting on each other was a whole different ball game. All he knows is that the more he looks at Y/N, the more he wants to get on his knees before her. 

Harry had never flirted so openly with Y/N before. What the fuck was he playing at? Y/N had assumed that Harry became a tad clingy and loving with a few drinks in his system. So as he sits across from her, dead sober, and continues to flirt with her, Y/N is confused. Maybe he was still drunk? Had he taken something she wasn't aware of? Been probed in the middle of the night? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't say she didn't like it. 

She also didn't want to get too comfortable, only for him to turn around and treat her as horribly as he had when she first got here. So she gives him a small smile and continues to eat her breakfast, merely listening to the conversations happening around her. 

——

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N could not get the thought of Harry off her mind. Could still feel the ghost of his lips trailing along her neck, and the way his hand brushed along hers. She couldn’t help but imagine the way his lips would feel pressing softly against her own, his tongue licking into her mouth. She imagines his hands to be soft but still firm as they held her hips, her neck, her own fingers laced in his. His voice replays in her head, and she wonders how his accent would twirl and twist around filthy words, whispered into the shell or her ear. 

 She can't forget how she felt hearing the lilt of his voice when it was flirting with someone else. Can’t get away from the pit in her stomach, the aching head and chest. She had laid awake for so many nights trying to figure out why exactly it had bothered her so much. 

She could only amount it all to a certain type of jealousy, but what was she jealous of? Harry had never shown her any sort of romantic attention before, that is until he was suckling at her neck and calling her sweetheart. But what did it all mean? Did he feel the same pull towards her, or was she just imagining his sudden fondness of her? Did she actually like him, or just the idea of his lips pressed against hers rather than her neck. She needed to talk to someone, and thank goodness for her, Sarah was home. 

Ever since they were little Sarah and Y/N had been ridiculously close. They had experienced each stage of their lives together, from playing at the local playground to trying their first cigarette in the bathroom of Sarah’s family home. Sarah was the big sister that Y/N had never had, always there for advice or a bit of fun. Teaching her about sex and drinking, what it was like to kiss another person or drive a car for the first time. Sarah explained everything with practiced expertise that looking back on, Y/N could see she definitely didn’t have at the time.  

Their family homes were only a road apart, and every day either Y/N or Sarah would make the small trek to each other’s house and spend hours discussing nothing and everything. Sarah was the closest thing Y/N had ever had to a sibling, and after Sarah had left for tour with Harry and the band, Y/N had felt a Sarah sized hole in her heart. Honestly, for Y/N, quarantine felt like a blessing in disguise, she felt like they could make up for the months of lost time and distance between them. 

In search of her cousin, Y/N only comes across Mitch reading in the living room, “hey, do you know where Sarah is?” He glances at Y/N from above his book, owlishly blinking as if he was confused, and maybe he was. Mitch is well known for getting lost in anything he loves, from books and movies and especially in his music. “Um, the shower… I think?” 

Bidding him thanks, Y/N heads towards the downstairs toilet where she could hear the water running. While they all had bathrooms in their rooms, they’d found the downstairs communal shower particularly helpful. It was easy to slip into after they’d just come back from swimming at the beach or a run, without mucking salt water or sweat through the whole house. Y/N knew Sarah had gone out for a jog about an hour ago, so had no doubt she was having a quick wash before dinner. 

If it were anybody else, Y/N would’ve waited until they had finished, but ever since they were thirteen or so, Y/N and Sarah had an odd tradition of having intense conversations while one of them was showering. Y/N still remembers the week Sarah’s parents had decided to split up, she had spent every night sitting on the closed toilet seat crying and ranting while Y/N stood under the hot water, listening and trying her best to comfort her. It was a weird habit of theirs, but for them, the chance to chat with someone without having to look them in the eye was therapeutic, almost like a church confessional. 

Although Y/N was relatively happy, she wasn’t about to enter a religious confessional. When it came to Harry, she had definitely committed at least four of the seven mortal sins. No, it was just Sarah, and Y/N knew that no matter what she admitted, it would be received with love and unconditional support. So she charges through the bathroom door, eager to spill all that was muddling up her mind, “Sarah! We need to talk about Harry, I need your help.” 

Y/N expects Sarah’s tinkling laugh, soothing cooing, maybe even a big sigh and her calming voice asking her what was wrong. Instead, she is met with the deep and drawling laugh of Harry himself. 

Looking back now, Y/N wishes she could say she dealt with her mistake with careful grace and poise, but instead she lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and as she sees the shower curtain drawn to the left she slaps her hands over her eyes. The melodic laugh of Harry’s continues as he clearly notices her current predicament, “can look if you want babe.” 

Y/N whines, “I- um, no. I don’t- I thought you were Sarah. What the fuck is happening.” Y/N can hear the smirk in Harry’s voice as he answers, “yeh Y/N, I got that. Seriously, I’m covered up.” 

And maybe, it would’ve been better for Y/N to stay standing with her hands over her eyes like a petulant child because as she drops them, the sight she’s met with is one to behold and one Y/N’s not sure she can handle. Harry is covered with the shower curtain pulled across his bottom half, but Y/N trails her eyes upwards, sees the small trail of slightly damp hair leading down to the white curtain, and her eyes widen comically, he looks like a wet dream and Y/N’s not sure how to react. 

His curls are stuck to his neck and forehead, matted against the soft wet skin. His naturally tanned chest is on display, dripping with water, and covered in his tattoos. Y/N can’t help but notice the inked swallows along his chest, drawing attention to his collarbones, the skin taught against the bone, and Y/N wants to kiss along it and taste the mix of salt and sweetness of his neck. The butterfly covering his abs ripples as he clears his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention away from his body. 

“So what did you need to talk to Sarah about, hm?” Anything I can help you with?” Y/N can feel the blood rush to her cheeks, fully aware that Harry had caught her ogling at his partially naked body. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and she’s not sure whether it’s from the sight in front of her or the embarrassment of being caught staring at it. 

Y/N stutters, trying to force herself to say something, anything at all that would make this situation less unnerving “um, I-no?” Which comes out more like a question than anything, and Y/N curses herself for her weak resolve. Harry smirks, “Cat got your tongue pet?” Y/N hates how easily he can get her worked up, and hates it even more how obvious it is to him. “Stop teasing me! I can’t, you know, I don’t-... you’re naked okay!” 

Harry’s dimples deepen, and a smirk takes over a little less than half of his face, “don’t pretend you don’t love my teasing, darlin’.” It’s at this point that Y/N realises that she had been in this situation much longer than appropriate, standing flustered and hot from Harry being so close to her while nude. 

“I need to go,” it comes out as more of a whisper, her voice rough with lust. She coughs as if to clear her throat, but from what she’s unsure. The intense desire she feels for a man she despised a month ago, perhaps? “Relax Y/N, no big deal. I think Sarah’s in the shower upstairs though if you’re still looking.”

She nods in response, slowly backing out of the room before turning around and quickly shutting the door behind her. She feels her breath heaving in and out of her lungs. Feels her throat tighten and her head dizzy, and an intense tingling feeling starts at her toes and spreads all the way to her lower tummy. The familiar pull of lust and need brings an ache to her core, and she feels the sticky heat between her legs. 

While Y/N may not know it, Harry is affected by her as much as she is by him. He stands in the shower, a stupid grin across his face, dimples indenting his cheek. Harry could pretend he didn’t see Y/N blatantly ogling him, or her cheeks burn a delicious crimson when she had gotten caught. Could even pretend he didn’t see her subconsciously squeezing her thighs together while she stood in front of him, like she was so desperate for Harry she couldn’t even wait to relieve the tension building inside of her. 

Harry could pretend not to notice, but as he felt a tingle zap down his spine, and the accustomed rush of blood to his lower half, Harry realised he didn't want to. Would rather explore this unnerving territory, and see what it had in store for him. 

——

Harry had reached a new level of boredom. So much so, he had resorted to doing a puzzle.

Harry was notorious for always being busy, was constantly on tour, playing shows and promoting his music. The quietest periods in Harry’s life were the months of writing he’d participate in, where his mind was anything but still. He wasn’t used to doing nothing all day, and while he had tried to write during isolation, the months of doing fuck all made inspiration hard to come by. 

So it led Harry to his current situation, trying to complete a challenging puzzle at the dining table. Sarah and Mitch were napping the late afternoon away, Jeff was playing Xbox games in the living room, and Y/N had gone for a walk, right after she had brought the puzzle out from her room after Harry had asked her to. He had heard her talking to Sarah about how much she loved puzzles a few months ago and had even shown her the one she had brought to quarantine; however, she hadn’t gotten the chance to start it yet. 

Harry had been doing nothing all day, and he was sick of sitting in bed, refreshing his Instagram feed every ten minutes. To be honest, a puzzle wouldn’t have been Harry’s first choice of a relaxing pastime activity, but there was only so much social media and movie marathons Harry could take. 

He was nervous at first to ask Y/N. Over the last few days, it seemed like there was a certain tension between them, as if they were both aware of the lust that had been swirling throughout the bathroom as thick as the steam from Harry’s shower, but didn’t want to admit it. They were testing the waters, sometimes stumbling through amorous conversations, while still attempting to maintain their indifference. 

However, he was slightly remorseful of his decision for a different reason, when he asked Y/N if he could borrow it from her, she had squealed in excitement, telling him her ‘top tips’ for completing a jigsaw for at least ten minutes. He guesses her passion and love for the shitty quarantine past time, overrode her awkward feelings towards their situation. If he was honest, Harry didn’t give a fuck about “making sure to find the corners first!” but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he nodded along and pretended to listen. 

But Harry had really come to regret his decision when he hadn’t found a piece in over an hour. He was frustrated and the stifling temperature Sarah insisted on keeping the house at, wasn’t helping. He had completed a small section at the top right corner, five or six pieces on the left, and a few random bits he had stuck together and somehow happened to get correct. He was slightly embarrassed when Y/N returned from her walk, to find him with his head in his hands, looking more than sorry for himself. Her tinkling laughter doesn’t make him feel any better, either. 

“Having trouble H?” 

He looks up to her standing in the doorway, attempting to plaster his award-winning grin upon his face, “if I’d known it was this hard I never would have asked if I could do it.” She grins back, and walks over to the table, looking down at the pieces with a concentrated focus. “Hm I never said it was going to be easy, thought my tips would help, but I guess not.” 

Harry tries yet another piece that doesn’t fit with the ones surrounding it, and sighs, “if the puzzle master wants to help, that would be lovely,” he lilts. She picks up the segment Harry had just dropped and places into the correct position on the opposite side of the puzzle that Harry had placed it in. “You’re flattering me now.” She hesitates for a tick, “lucky for you, I like it.” 

Harry loved this new dynamic between them, it was light and teasing, something he hadn’t had with her before. He’s not going to lie and say that he didn’t slightly enjoy the biting exchanges they had previously shared, but this flirty air between them was exciting.  

“I’ll keep that in mind pet. Now, what were those tips again?” 

It’s safe to say Harry was impressed with Y/N’s skill, he had never thought puzzles were that difficult until he actually tried to complete one. Y/N however, was fast, seemed to pick up pieces and instantly be able to connect to where they should go, and quickly finished at least ninety percent of the puzzle. Harry fit the odd part in place, which Y/N praised each time, with a small cheer and a “well done!” each time. Finally, the puzzle was almost complete with only one gap in the picture of golden retriever puppies climbing on one another. 

Y/N looks at Harry and hands him the last puzzle piece, “you should put the last bit in.” Harry can’t explain the warm glow that emits from his heart, he doesn’t know why it makes him so happy. She was kind and considerate, and Harry wasn’t used to people always putting him first, usually being doubtful of anyone he hadn’t known for a while, worried about what their true intentions were. “You sure? You did most of it.” She giggles, “nah, we did it together!” Harry takes the bit of cardboard from her and places it in the last empty spot. 

He looks up at Y/N who’s grinning at him stupidly, and he can’t help but smile back. It’s then that Harry starts to really look at Y/N. He notices the dusting of freckles on the top of her nose, her eyes laced with pride and happiness and her lips, the bottom one stuck between her two front teeth, but both looking so soft and sweet. Y/N must catch Harry staring at her lips because she releases the supple flesh from between her bite. 

“Did you have fun?” She whispers. 

Harry tries to reply, but his voice dies in his throat. All he can manage is a small nod, his gaze dropping back to Y/N’s mouth. He lifts his hand to her face, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch slightly. Unknowingly, they had gotten even closer, and Harry can feel her small puffs of air against his lips, could brush them against hers if he leaned an inch forward. 

“Harry, what do you want to do for dinner?” Mitch yells from the room one over, scaring both Y/N and Harry, who instantly pull away from each other. Harry coughs, “um, I don’t know man.” 

Mitch walks into the room, Sarah in tow, who sees the completed puzzle on the table and runs over, “you finally did it Y/N!” Harry looks over to the girl in question. Her cheeks a cherry red as she looks over to Harry, “uh yeah, Harry and I did it together.” Sarah looks between them, with an impish look on her face mixed with slight disbelief, “oh, that’s… nice.” 

Harry’s attention is drawn away from Y/N when Mitch pipes up again, “I was thinking tacos, so we could make frozen margaritas for game night.” Harry is grateful for the change in topic, knowing Sarah was more than likely to make a comment that Harry was not ready to address. Particularly if Y/N had indeed continued the conversation she had planned to have with Sarah a few days ago when she’d walked in on Harry in the shower. 

“You know I’m always down for a margarita.” 

—— 

Y/N was slightly buzzed. She hated feeling entirely out of control when she drank, and she’d found the perfect point between dead sober and sloppy. She felt a warm feeling in her fingertips and toes, felt slightly light-headed and was just a tad obnoxiously giggly. The group had been playing monopoly, and while Y/N usually hated the game, she was thoroughly enjoying it tonight. 

Sarah had been helping Y/N, so she wasn’t so lost in terms of properties and the differences between houses and hotels. Jeff was as quiet as usual, but somehow had a secret talent for swindling properties and hoard money. Mitch had prioritised his margarita over the game, buying random properties when he felt like it, and fucking up everyone else’s plans of winning. And Harry had made it his mission to beat Y/N. If he was honest, he just loved seeing her pout every time he would buy whatever spaces were left of the colours she was aiming for, or teasing her every time she got a smaller roll than him. 

As Harry bought another green property that Y/N was gunning for, she realised she was nursing an empty glass. “Does anyone want another margarita?” Agreements come from all around the table, so Y/N gets up, grabbing a few empty glasses. As she stands, she feels the blood rush to her head, a slight dizziness tingling through her body, and she giggles as she stumbles towards the kitchen. 

Harry and Mitch had made the previous rounds, Y/N watching the first couple be made. Which meant she probably should remember the ingredients, but if she’s honest, the copious amount of alcohol running through her bloodstream has caused a lapse in her memory. Was she supposed to put one or two cups of ice in? Y/N curses herself and her shitty memory under her breath, realising she will definitely need help. She was clearly too tipsy to think coherently. 

“Oi, how much tequila do I put in? And is it Cointreau or triple sec? And how much ice do I use” She yells into the adjacent room, sighing slightly, hoping someone would come and help her. And she can’t explain her excitement when Harry rounds the corner, maybe because the pressure of making the drinks had been lifted, but more likely because it was simply him. He comes in with a smiling face, his hair slightly messed and his eyes filled with the misty happiness of someone who is perfectly buzzed. 

Y/N couldn’t quite describe the shiver that travels down her spine or the tension she feels in her stomach, all she knows is in the last few days, the intense feeling had begun to grow stronger whenever Harry was around. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, the shy smirks he’d give her, or the gentle touches he’d provide as he walked passed her. 

In every touch, every look and every feeling she got from Harry, Y/N could sense the tension growing stronger. She was amazed the rest of the group hadn’t picked up on it, other than Sarah of course, who was watching from the sidelines, waiting for one of them to crack. 

“What’s the problem bunny?” His eyes soft as he walks over to a defeated Y/N. He watches as her eyes crinkled slightly as she giggles despite herself, “I wanted to make everyone drinks, but I realised I don’t actually know how to.” She sheepishly watches Harry’s face mirror her own with a small grin, “well that just won’t do, will it? Sit on the counter n’ I’ll show you again.” 

She jumps on the kitchen bench, the surface cold against her otherwise alcohol flushed skin. She watches Harry gather the ingredients from around the kitchen, noticing the way his back strains against the white and yellow t-shirt he was wearing, the arch of his back clear and his shoulders strong and broad.

Over the past week or so, Y/N had started to see the funny and charming personality that the rest of the household had previously been privy to. His witty and sweet persona had shone through, and it had done nothing to curb the intense sexual feelings she felt towards him, instead they were only growing, especially with each pet name that his puffy pink lips shaped around. 

Harry begins to place the ingredients in the blender, and Y/N is confident he’s giving her instructions as he does so, but she is just so distracted by his strong fingers adorned by his shiny rings, each one a different shape and size. “Are y’listening?” 

She snaps her eyes back to his face, to see one side of his pretty mouth tugging upwards, suggesting he already knew the answer to his own question. “What are you lookin’ at my hands for?” She feels the warmth rush to the apples of her cheeks, sheepishly replying, “I was just looking at your rings, they’re very pretty.” 

He smiles and jokingly holds his hand up to her face, wiggling his fingers. Y/N chuckles and grabs his pointer finger, pulling it towards her to get a better look. She holds his hand while looking at the silver band wrapped around his digit, eyeing the small red ruby shining brightly in the centre of it, “like this one,” she whispers. He matches her volume, stepping closer in order to hear her, “it was my mums, she gave it to me after my first concert sold out. Her mum gave it to her after she got married.” She runs her finger over it gently, noticing the worn edges, and tries to imagine the many stories it had experienced in the hands of three generations. “It’s beautiful.” 

This felt like a moment for both of them. Obviously, Harry and Y/N had experienced many conversations and experiences before, but none quite like this. Harry feels the warmth from her body radiating into his, can feel the sweat from her hands as she holds his own. He can hear her calm breathing, the slow rise and fall of her chest. Of course, Harry had felt lust before, but he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss someone as badly as he does right now.

He can’t explain how desperately he wants to inch forward, hold her pretty face in his hands and press his lips against hers. Instead, he makes do, moving closer to her and feeling a bloom of happiness in his chest when she opens her legs for him to stand between with no hesitation. 

She smiles, his hand still nestled into hers, although her focus had moved far beyond his rings. It now laid solely on his face and the way he was looking at her. He rests his free hand on the counter beside her, close enough that she could feel the outside of his thumb brushing against her upper leg. 

Harry bites his tongue, he wants to say ‘so are you,’ but even he knows that’s cheesy. Plus he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, he knows Y/N is attracted to him but is also fully aware that doesn’t equal consent. He settles for lightly brushing his thumb against her leg and watches as a shiver racks through her body. With a slight giggle, she grabs his other hand, that’s causing the mildly uncomfortable sensation, with her free one, “that tickles.” 

And Harry’s not a mind reader, but now they’re just holding hands, plain and simple. He doesn’t know if she feels the same heat and tension settling between their lips, but the way she leans in slightly, tilting her head to the left gives him an indication she does. It’s subtle, and if Harry hadn’t been sitting between her legs praying she’d do exactly that, he might not have picked up on it. But he does. 

He leans in too, leaving a slight gap between them. Y/N can feel the tiny puffs of air, leaving Harry’s mouth and drawing into hers and can feel the little tufts of hair tickling her forehead. 

She brushes her lips against his gently, testing the waters. He feels as soft and warm against her as she’d imagined. Y/N retracts slightly, unsure if she had overstepped a boundary. The only reaction she could read was a sharp inhale on his part, and she was worried that it wasn’t a positive sign. 

But she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

He lifts his hand from hers and places it against her neck, his hands big enough to tuck his thumb under her jaw, while still using the rest of his fingers to gently push her back against him.

She tasted so much better than he would’ve thought, sour from the margaritas with an underlying sweetness that he couldn’t put his finger on. Harry can barely hold in his groan when her tongue slides against his lower lip, and he gladly opens up further. He feels her whimper against his thumb before he hears it, the rumbling sending vibrations up his arm, leading him to feel dizzy. 

He feels Y/N rest her hands against his shoulders, sliding them over his neck and resting her forearms behind his head. She leans further into the kiss, somehow opening her legs further, her hips slightly bucking towards his own in a silent plea for friction. Harry doesn’t hesitate to give it to her, pressing himself against her and instantly feeling the effect of his actions. She runs one hand through the curls sitting at the back of his head, tugging gently and pushing her own hips back with as much vigour as he had.

That is until the click of heeled boots is heard echoing against the kitchen tiles. 

The speed at which Harry jumps away from his position between Y/N’s legs is comical, and she almost wishes she could see it from an outsiders perspective. However, not as much as she wishes Harry’s lips were back on her own. 

Y/N looks between the boy she had been kissing with his hair messy and fluffy, and the apparent growing bulge in his pants to the shocked Mitch standing in the entrance of the kitchen. His mouth hangs open comically, and his hands hang loosely by his sides. 

The silence is too much for both Harry and Y/N to bear and looking at Y/N’s face, now bright red, and brimming with embarrassment and stress Harry feels it’s his responsibility to put her slightly at ease. “Mitch… um look-” 

“What the fuck is going on here?” Harry doesn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence before Mitch is interrupting. Harry pipes up again, “it’s nothing!” Y/N can feel her brows turning downwards and the corner of her lips curling in annoyance. She knows Harry is more than likely trying to cover their asses, but Mitch had seen them kissing, and it didn’t make Harry downplaying everything hurt any less. 

Harry sees her face and quickly tries to backtrack, “well I mean not nothing… it’s something!” 

“No shit it’s something! How long have you guys been fucking for?” This time Y/N is the first to speak up, “we are not fucking! We haven’t even-“ she starts, completely flustered, her face somehow becoming even redder, “we just kissed!” Mitch bursts out laughing, as Y/N and Harry stay completely still, both absolutely mortified. 

“Alright mate, fuck off,” Harry grumbles, praying that Mitch would just leave the uncomfortable situation alone. And he does, still laughing as he finds his way back to the living room. Y/N has no doubt that he would go straight to Sarah and Jeff to share what he’d just seen. Harry turns to 

Y/N and while he tries to maintain a serious face for her sake, he can’t help but let out a small chuckle. 

It wasn’t the first time Mitch had walked in on him during a ‘private’ moment, some a lot worse than what he’d just witnessed. But Harry doubts any would be more shocking than the kiss Mitch had just seen. According to him, Y/N and Harry were at most on civil terms. So to see them, in a more than compromising position must have been a considerable shock to the system. 

“Why are you laughing, you ass?” While Y/N’s words are anything but kind, her face gives away her true feelings, a small grin peeking through. She wasn’t too concerned, Sarah already knew the current situation Harry and Y/N had found themselves in, as well as Y/N’s feelings on it. She was probably waiting for this very scenario to occur.

However, she was worried about where Harry and her would go from here. 

She knew he was attracted to her, he wouldn’t have kissed her otherwise. Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe Harry had done it in the moment, and didn’t feel that same attraction all the time. What if he saw her leaning in and was pitying her? Y/N was terrified that now that Mitch knew, Harry would be too embarrassed to kiss her again. 

But Y/N’s worry is immediately put to hold when Harry grabs her hand again, “you’ve got to admit it’s funny.” He rubs his thumb against her knuckles, hoping to soothe any worry still running through her veins, “are you okay though?” Y/N smiles and squeezes his hand, “yeh, more than.” 

Harry leans in slowly, making sure that even though Y/N had claimed she was fine, that she would still be okay with him kissing her again. She doesn’t move away, instead moves closer and he smiles and presses a soft kiss against her lips. 

“We should probably get back out there,” he mumbles against her plush lips. She nods in response, squeezing his hand once more before jumping off the counter. “I’ll see you in the living room.” 

—— 

Harry didn’t regret kissing Y/N, not by a long shot. What he did regret, however, is two things. The first was agreeing to continue drinking with Mitch after everyone else had gone to sleep, and the second, kissing Y/N while intoxicated. 

He had enjoyed it, he knew that much. But he’s fully aware that he may not have gotten the chance to absorb every detail of the moment. He couldn’t forget the feeling of her lips against his or the way she bucked up against him. However, he is struggling to recall the way her hips felt under his fingertips, or whether or not he could smell the strawberry scented shampoo she used, that previously, he had only caught gusts of. 

Harry needs to know, when they kissed, did her eyebrows furrow the same way they do when she bites into a warm jam donut? Or when he slotted his hips against hers, did her mouth hang open, eyes shut tightly like when Sarah dug into the knots in her back? Did she make the same sounds Harry had already heard? Or were there some privy only to moments of privacy like the one her and Harry shared? He didn’t think to notice if the skin on her cheeks was as soft as it looked, or even if her hands held onto him as firmly as they had grasped onto the chair, the night Harry had first gotten so close to Y/N. 

Harry couldn’t help but feel like he’d somehow hiked up mountainous terrain, dodged every jagged edge Y/N initially threw at him, stumbled through open conversations and insinuations. Felt he had somehow navigated overwhelming selfishness and every mixed feeling, to finally reach the top and for some stupid reason just close his eyes. He was only just able to smell the mountainside air and feel the rocky surface but was utterly blind to the magnificent sight in front of him. 

Harry was also worried that Y/N was too intoxicated to know what she was doing. Harry was big on consent, always had been, and he knew the chances of drunk him doing something Y/N wasn’t okay with was very unlikely, but what if? What if for some reason he couldn’t read the body language of the girl he had spent months admiring? Or what if she had said something of opposition and he hadn’t heard her? 

Harry was stressed, and the pounding headache beating through his head was definitely not helping. 

He knew the only way to make sure what happened last night was okay and enjoyable for both parties, was simply asking Y/N. So after going to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face and changing into some sweatpants, Harry makes the trek downstairs. 

He’s met with an interesting site. Mitch is sitting at the kitchen counter, head in his hands and shaking his head. Jeff is doing dishes and looks to be purposely clanging noisy dishes in front of Mitch and then laughing at each flinch racking from the man's body. While Y/N is standing at the stove, cooking something that Harry can’t decipher, in her cloud pyjama pants and a sweatshirt that looks suspiciously like his.

If Harry listens intently enough, he can hear her humming under her breath, a soft tune that lifts all the features of Harry’s handsome face upwards. 

Harry starts by walking over to Mitch, placing his hands on both of his shoulders and squeezing lightly, “c’mon Jeff, lay off the poor guy!” Jeff only laughs in response jokingly swatting at Mitch's head, still buried within his hands. 

At the joking tone within the kitchen, and the fact that Jeff had not immediately berated Harry about his relationship with Y/N, Harry realised Mitch had decided not to tell the rest of the house. Or at least not Jeff. Harry couldn’t have been more thankful for Mitch's undying loyalty and bizarre talent of somehow knowing exactly what Harry wanted or needed. With Y/N’s relaxed manner, he assumed she had come to the same conclusion.  

At the sound of Harry’s voice, Y/N whips around, her face lighting up at the sight of the man she had kissed not 12 hours ago. And the look of delight and need on Y/N’s face works wonders to calm Harry’s nerves, while Y/N’s were skyrocketing. He looked as handsome as ever with sleep still gracing his features, his chestnut hair in a mess on top of his head and eyes slightly puffy and red. In all honesty, Y/N couldn’t get over how it felt to kiss him, and while it had happened, she couldn’t help but feel thirteen again, with a crush on the cute boy in class. 

It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking, his tongue darting out from between his lips, leaving them wet and glistening in the early morning sun. And Y/N just can’t seem to draw her attention away from them, can’t stop the image of him pressed against her replaying over and over in her mind.

Maybe it was the way her eyes drooped slightly, her nostrils flaring ever so subtly, but Y/N gets the feeling that he knows exactly what she’s thinking, his left eye dropping in a wink that leaves Y/N’s tummy fluttering. 

“Mornin’ love.” His voice is hoarse and deep with residue drowsiness, and it does nothing to ease Y/N’s churning stomach. She coughs lightly before replying, “morning H.” Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet and manner docile, as she tries to hide the less than appropriate thoughts running through her head. 

He walks over to the stove, leaving Jeff and Mitch behind in the presence of someone far more interesting. “Smells good, what are you cookin’?” 

Y/N giggles, the sound unnecessarily loud and she cringes at herself before replying, “um, pancakes. Made some more just in case you guys wanted some.” In truth, Y/N knew Mitch didn’t like pancakes, Sarah wasn’t even awake yet, and Jeff had just started a very strict ‘no sugar’ diet, and so those extra pancakes were specifically for Harry after she had heard his sink running upstairs. And well, Harry knew all of that too. He feels a certain spaciousness in his chest one can only attribute to gratitude, and it makes him want to draw her close to him and kiss her cheek in thanks. 

Instead, Harry grabs her small hand in his and squeezes it lightly, before walking over to the fridge to get the maple syrup. “What’d you want on yours, babe? Nutella?” 

Y/N smiles and nods her head, giddy with the tingling feeling travelling through her hands and the prospect of spending more time with Harry. 

—— 

The day had been quiet. Y/N felt as if she had been wading through water all afternoon, sluggish and slow but somehow using more energy than walking on land required. The whole house felt slow-moving, most of its inhabitants spending the day in front of the TV, reading books or napping. And so it made sense for their daily activity to be a movie night. 

The housemates had decided a Disney marathon would be a perfect end to a hungover day, and with Jeff’s only condition being that they watched ‘Bambi’, everyone was in agreeance. 

Y/N had offered to organise the snacks and drinks while everyone else brought down pillows and blankets from upstairs, the room looking cozier then she had seen it in the past few months, and at the centre of it, Harry.

In the same position, he had been in the night they had sat watching cartoons in the early morning together, only to fall asleep and wake up in each other’s arms. It felt like so long ago now, but Y/N knows in reality, not that much time had passed. She found herself feeling thankful for how their relationship had evolved, and the effect a little time had given them. 

It was funny how far they had come. Y/N was so worried Harry had hated her after that, she now wonders if he’d always felt some type of draw towards her, or if he really had hated her as much as he made out. She briefly wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as she is, as he looks at her questioningly, standing in the doorway of the living room, unmoving. 

Y/N smiles lightly, and begins to move towards the couch, realising that there were three blankets in total, one being used by Mitch and Sarah, seemingly very close underneath the cover, one thrown over Jeff and the other sitting across Harry’s legs. She hesitates for a moment, the obvious choice being Harry, but she isn’t sure where their relationship stood, and more importantly, how much the rest of the housemates knew about it. 

Harry quickly provides a solution, “y’can just share my blanket if you want pet.” Y/N’s tummy flips, but the blank stare she gives him as she runs through all the repercussions (good and bad) coming from her doing that, comes off more as confusion. Did he forget that Jeff didn’t know about the kiss? 

Harry sits uncomfortably in the silence. “Or not, whatever you want.” Silence again, and with each passing second, Harry’s facial expression becomes more and more exasperated. 

Mitch is smirking, giving Harry a knowing glance. Sarah is looking at Mitch confused, obviously trying to figure out her boyfriend's cryptic facial expression. Jeff was the most bewildered of all, clearly completely lost. 

“Fine, fuckin’ forget it. Y’can share a blanket with Jeff ‘Mcvomit’ Aezzof. Or maybe you can jack Mitch off under the blanket with Sarah, and all of us will pretend we don’t know. How bout that hm?” Harry knows he’s being slightly unfair to all those just mentioned. 

A month ago, during a game night, Jeff had consumed slightly too much alcohol and subsequently vomited all over the living room carpet and Harry’s rainbow Gucci boots. Safe to say, Harry was not impressed and hadn’t let Jeff forget it either. 

He also knows he’s being unfair to Sarah and Mitch, although, he’s not exactly wrong. Harry had no proof anything was happening under Sarah’s unicorn blanket but they always sat suspiciously close, and some strange movements had definitely been observed during movie nights, particularly when the crew had binged ‘50 Shades of Grey.’

No one had mentioned it to each other, until one night, Y/N had tried to subtly ask Jeff and Harry if they had noticed too. The two boys immediately agreed, admitting they both had their own suspicions. However, this was the first time anyone had brought it up with the couple in question. 

He’s instantly met with outcry from both Sarah and Mitch.

“Oh for fucks sake H.” 

“You’re so crude.” 

“We do not do that.” 

Jeff also looks unamused, mumbling under his breath, although the shouts from the couple drown his reply out, “you have too much to drink one time, and no one lets you forget it.” 

But Y/N, in true Y/N style laughs, and all of a sudden Harry doesn’t feel nearly as bad for his accusations or his teasing of Jeff. “Alright bug, alright. You made your point, scoot over.” 

Y/N settles under the blanket with Harry, tucking her legs underneath her, trying to maintain a healthy distance from him. She hadn’t really been so consciously close to Harry before, only ever being asleep, drunk or… busy. Y/N noticed his signature scent was present, a warm cedarwood cologne that somehow made her nostrils tickle and insides feel slightly warmer, like a shot of whiskey travelling down her throat and spreading through her tummy. 

Maybe it was the man the smell lingered to that made her feel so comfortable and warm, or perhaps it was the blanket and heat radiating from him, but either way, Y/N loved it. She revelled in the comfort and feeling of safety that she didn’t often bask in, and it was Harry of all people who made her feel like this. 

She briefly wonders what this movie night would entail. She was happy they were already close to each other, stealing glances. Each bout of eye contact bringing a tingle through her spine, a shiver wracking through her shoulders when she noticed him glancing at her with his signature smirk and bright look. 

She was aware that they were slowly moving closer to each other with each passing second of the film playing in front of them. When she had initially sat down next to Harry, she could feel the warmth radiating from him, but now she could feel his side pressed against her, and his leg slightly crossed over hers.

If she’s honest, she was much more focused on the handsome individual sitting next to her than on the movie anyway, and consequently, she missed the first twenty minutes. 

What she cannot miss, however, is Harry’s hand coming to rest gently on her thigh. His palm flat against the plush flesh and his nails lightly scratching at the skin lying over it. 

She looks over at him, his strong jaw and cheekbone highlighted by the dim light of the TV screen, his nose slightly pointed at the end and his long eyelashes fluttering against his skin. She watches as his pink lips tug upwards, bringing a smirk and deep dimple to his handsome face. With that smile, she realises he knows she’s looking at him, and probably knows the effect his touch is having on her. The only acknowledgement she receives is a small squeeze of her thigh. 

She can’t help but scoff, his lax attitude directly opposed her own, if she was honest, she often felt on a different plane than him. Y/N tried to deny it, but she could be highly strung. When she was in a situation where she felt comfortable and safe, she was easygoing, a delight to get along with, and was often confused as someone who was undoubtedly more affable than she really was. 

It was one of the first days of year ten at school when Y/N had experienced her first panic attack. She can still remember the way her hands shook like healthy green leaves in a summer storm, could never forget the tightness in her chest, the closing feeling of her throat, and the tears that blinded her. While the panic attacks had become less frequent as she aged, the underlying symptoms that bubbled into the panic she experienced still tended to rear their ugly heads. 

Harry, on the other hand, seemed endlessly relaxed. While Y/N had initially only seen a more uptight and priggish side of him, it was almost like he enjoyed those negative interactions between them, for the sole reason that he could skillfully get under Y/N’s skin, watch her squirm and burn red. Any other time she witnessed Harry he was almost always equanimous and the voice of reason in the odd little group that found themselves quarantining together. 

He was so comfortable, seemingly so unaffected by her, while she felt his presence made her head spin and heart race. 

He leans closer to her, his curls tickling her collarbone, “are you watchin’ the film?” 

She nods, the action sending a wave of her perfume to invade his nose, the smell somehow so addicting and familiar to Harry now. “Yeh, the sad part is coming soon, though.” 

It’s his turn to scoff, “don’t tell me you’re gonna cry on me.” 

Y/N looks up at him, watching as his bunny-like front teeth capture his bottom lip, “and what if I do, hm?” 

Harry’s first thought is to say he’d get her some tissues and embrace her until the tears seeped into her sullen soaked skin, but he knows that’s even too corny for him. Instead, he looks around the room to find everyone too focused on the movie to pay attention to them, and chuckles lightly, kissing the top of her cheekbone. “Might cry with you love. Poor Bambi, never knew what was comin’.” 

While Y/N looks around the room, she quickly relaxes as she realises no one was paying enough attention to notice Harry’s affectionate action. She stifles a laugh, “we’re in this together then, aren’t we?” 

Harry can’t help but feel like she’s not just referring to a sad Disney movie, but instead the situation they had found themselves in. It was confusing, both of them not entirely over their exes, but both seemingly enamoured with the other, something that felt like it had happened overnight. 

He didn’t know if she felt the same way he did. He simultaneously wanted to fuck the shit out of her and cuddle with her on the couch, for god's sake he wanted to comfort her when she was crying over fucking ‘Bambi.’ Harry was confused. 

He hasn’t felt like this about anyone since Elle, and while Y/N hadn’t spoken about her ex with Harry directly, he had overheard a few snippets of conversation between Sarah and herself. 

Before Y/N had come to stay with the group, Sarah had briefly explained the situation, the fact she had put all her effort into a three-year relationship that had ended brutally, with the asshole showing no remorse towards Y/N or her feelings. Harry didn’t want to push her or himself, but he felt a draw towards her that he couldn’t ignore. 

The way she placed her hand gently on top of his, still laying on her thigh, and tangled their fingers together made his heart swell, and it was at that moment he decided he didn’t care about Elle. For the first time since they broke up, Harry didn’t wish the person he was with was his cheery faced ex-girlfriend. He wanted Y/N, and he hoped with all his heart, she wanted him too. 

He looked over at her, her soft skin and red cheeks glowing gently from the light of the TV screen. 

Harry’s feelings are only confirmed, when he hears the gunshot sounding through the room from the movie, hears a small sniffle coming from the girl next to him, and feels her fingers tightening around his own. Harry knows that somehow, through everything, he wanted Y/N to be there next to him at the end of it. 

—— 

Harry sat stewing in his feelings as the night progressed, each member of the house slowly abandoning the marathon, opting for the warmth of their beds instead. 

If he was honest, Harry was exhausted, but he couldn’t bear to leave Y/N alone. She had waited patiently through everyone else’s choices, sung along with Sarah through ‘The Little Mermaid.’ She had gushed with Mitch over the fantastic visuals in ‘Hercules’ and watched carefully for Harry’s reactions to ‘The Beauty and the Beast,’ squeezing his hand when the last petal fell, and Belle professed her love for the Beast. 

Harry didn’t think it was fair that everyone had chosen bed over watching Y/N’s movie, over singing along to ‘Tangled’ with her. Chosen to sleep instead of talking about how good the animation was and squeezing her hand every time Flynn and Rapunzel were close to kissing. 

So Harry does the best he can. He listens to how excited she gets through the fighting scenes, does his best to sing along to songs he’d never heard before, and listens to her speak about how mean she thought Mother Gothel was. Each scene, he watches her eyes widen in comical child-like glee, and her cheeks flush as she laughs at Harry’s impersonation of Flynn Rider. 

It’s as Mother Gothel is falling out of the window that Harry realises Y/N’s grip on his hand has loosened and that she is resting against his shoulder, asleep. He smiles, bringing his knuckle to brush against her cheek, gently waking her up. As she slightly startles, he kisses her nose, “y’ fell asleep bug.” 

She looks surprised, immediately looking to the screen, “oh shoot. Missed my favourite part too.” Harry can’t help but kiss the small pout that graced her lips as she realises this, which she quickly returns. Harry’s lips tingle as she hums in contentment, causing them to pull apart slightly, Harry touching his lips and giggling. 

It was all so domestic and sweet, a kiss leading to nothing in particular, and Harry loved it. Revelled in the idea of kissing Y/N for the pure pleasure of feeling her soft lips against his own, and for nothing else. As Y/N speaks her lips brush against his, still flush against each other, “we should get to bed.” 

As they both make their way upstairs, hand in hand, they dawdle as if to stall their inevitable parting, and as Y/N prepares to speak their goodbye into existence Harry decides he doesn’t want this night to end. Didn’t want to part from the warmth Y/N provided, to lose the feeling of her face pressed against him or the way her hand felt nestled in his. So Harry does the one thing he can think of, something he may come to regret later, 

“Do you want t’ sleep in my bed tonight? You don’ have to if you don’t want to, of course.” 

Harry observes Y/N’s face, and he feels as if he goes through the same range of emotions as she does. First surprise, then apprehension, her head tilting as she thinks through her decision.

Harry thinks maybe she’s misinterpreting his intentions. Don’t get him wrong, he would jump at the chance to have sex with someone as lovely as her, but he really just wasn’t ready to leave her. Wanted to feel her asleep in his arms, hear the small snores he’s sure she would make and brush her hair away from her face when it looked to be tickling her in the middle of the night. 

“No funny business dove, I promise.” 

Finally, a small smirk graces the young girl's face, her top teeth hooking into her lower lip, a little giggle erupting from her mouth while she nods her head. 

Harry’s face subconsciously matches Y/N’s, a replica giggle floating through his mouth and into the air between them, “yeh?” 

She nods once again, “yeh.” Harry feels nothing but relief, a giddy bubbling feeling erupting from his chest, rushing through to his fingertips. He almost believes she feels the exact same burst of emotion when she squeezes his hand as he pulls her into his bedroom. 

It smells the same as the last time she was in his room, except this time, there was a sense of certainty in the air. While Y/N had previously tiptoed into his private space, terrified of crossing a line both physically and metaphorically, she no longer felt that same apprehension.

She entered the room with confident footsteps, aware that they had already entered a territory in which they would struggle to backtrack from. Aware that Harry would more than likely revel in the fact she was in a space he considered sacred, rather than feel uneasy.

She was correct in her assumption. He watches the way she looks perfectly placed in a room he previously hated anyone else entering, her energy already matching his own, but somehow adding an exuberant light into a space that, before her, had represented his despondency. 

Harry begins getting ready for bed, takes off his pants and shirt, left in only boxers. As the cotton of his top slides over his mass of curls, he catches Y/N staring, her mouth slightly parted, pupils dilated and cheeks pink. 

The cocky boy smirks slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion ever so subtly, and a gust of wind passing through his nose as a form of laughter. “Would you prefer me to keep my pants on babe?” 

His cheeky tone works to bring Y/N from her stupor. She stumbles over her words, clearly embarrassed Harry had caught her ogling at his body, again. “Uh.. no, no whatever’s comfortable, I guess. Do you want to keep your pants on? You can, of course, I just…” 

“Teasing Y/N,” his smirk grows into a grin, his dimple flashing her once again, “I’m only teasing.” She visibly relaxes, her shoulders returning to the normal position, and her eyes closed, trying to shake the remaining embarrassment from her system. 

“You are the worst.” 

He only laughs, “and you take yourself too seriously. Now, do you want a shirt to sleep in?” 

While Y/N might usually be offended by him saying something like that, she knows he’s not wrong. In fact, he’s entirely correct. He just knew exactly how to wind her up, what buttons to push to make a flush rise to her cheeks and for her sentences to become stuttered. 

“That would be nice, thank you.” 

Harry only nods, walking over to the dresser in the corner and rummaging through, pulling out a white shirt with the phrase “enjoy health, eat your honey” on the front. He holds it up in front of his body, waiting for Y/N’s approval, which he quickly receives, throwing it over to her in response. 

She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to give her the courtesy of changing in private. “Do y’ mind, you lecher?” 

He startles, “oh uh sorry.” Y/N watches as a blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck, a clear sign of his humiliation, and he quickly turns around. 

She changes, giving a soft cough when it’s safe for him to turn around. Harry can hardly believe his eyes, he knew she was beautiful, but fucking hell, it was like an angel had been sent to him from heaven. 

Her legs were soft, and Harry wanted nothing more than to trail kisses up her thighs, past the dotting of stretch marks, patches of missed hair, and the hem of the shirt that sat loosely against her. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric, firm, surrounded by supple flesh, that Harry had trouble to stop imagining. Her face was soft, a pleasant but embarrassed smile pulling along half her face, smoothed by the leftover makeup she hadn’t bothered to remove. 

She was fucking beautiful. 

“Stop looking at me like that you…” 

“Lecher. I know. It’s hard not to be when you look like that.” Her cheeks turn an even darker shade of crimson, and her eyebrows draw up in surprise. Harry didn’t know at what, she was his very own wet dream, and he had trouble imagining that she didn’t know that. 

Unsure of what to say she patters towards the bed, lifting the covers and lying beneath them, facing the side he usually slept on, waiting for Harry to lay in her line of sight. He does, his cheek getting gently squished against the silk pillow, his hair billowing out from his head, creating an unruly mess around his face. 

“I don’t…” she sighs, clearly struggling to string together whatever was going through her mind. Harry grabs the hand laying between them, and gives it a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He had been vulnerable in front of her weeks before they had even shown interest in each other, and he wanted to give her the same comfortable space to talk through what she was feeling. 

She lets out another breath and continues, “I like when you call me beautiful. I just don’t know how to respond, I’m not all that used to it.” She snorts despite herself, “isn’t that sad?” While she’s laughing, Harry can see the sadness set behind her eyes, and so he doesn’t laugh. Only squeezes her hand once more and replies as steadily as he can, “it’s not sad. I understand.” 

Her laugh turns more genuine, “oh so even the Greek god gets self-conscious? Thank god for that.” He quickly matches her jesting tone, “for sure, need to be humbled somehow.” He pulls her closer and rests his head in the crook of her neck, listening as the giggles she emits, vibrate through her body, and he can’t help but smile too. 

He was happy and at peace. And for the first time in a long time, both he and Y/N slept through the night, relief and giddiness seeping through their pores. 

——

Harry awoke in a daze. His arm was numb, his head slightly dizzy and body just a tad too hot. Then he sees Y/N asleep in front of him, head resting on his bicep, hair a mess, and her hand resting on his, placed on the pillow in front of her face, and all of a sudden none of it mattered.

She was beautiful. It makes Harry wonder about the last time they’d woken up together. He remembers feeling scared, denying any comfort he had found within her in his arms, and he wonders if his subconscious had always known she was right for him. 

They seemed to fit together so seamlessly, for a couple who couldn’t stand the sight of each other months prior. 

Harry uses his free hand to sweep her hair away from her neck, leaving a space for him to press his lips against. Her skin was warm, slightly tacky from sweat, and he breathed her in, dragging his nose up and down the nape of her neck. 

He hears her begin to wake, repositioning her legs under the covers and her breath beginning to quicken from the lull of sleep. A small hum of contentment leaves her lips as she feels Harry’s mouth kissing on her skin. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he whispers, his breath tickling her. She lets out a laugh, her voice heavy with drowsiness, “morning H.” 

The hand that was already resting loosely in his tightens as she loops their fingers together, “how’d you sleep?” 

He squeezes back, “better than I have in months. What ‘bout you?” 

She leans further back into him and exhales, “so good.” Harry hears the relief in her voice, and he feels it too. Was this all it took to stop his own self wallowing? Being pressed against her? It was like she brought her own kind of calmness to his unstable mind, and while he knew she would disagree with him in saying it, she was a source of purity, a way for him to feel carefree. 

He wanted to tell her, but something was stopping him. What if she wasn’t quite as committed to whatever they were as he was? Harry had never been good with his feelings, preferring to write his emotions into his music. Fuck, sometimes even selling his songs to others to avoid the message coming from his own mouth directly. 

But as Y/N turns around, her mouth inches from his, her eyes wide and doe-like, Harry thinks he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t tell her how he felt. The words creep up his throat, and he tastes them on his tongue, sweet and rich. “I... I really like you. I’m not sure how you feel about everything. I just know I haven’t felt like this since… well for a while, and that’s kind of scary.” 

Harry closes his eyes, not wanting to see Y/N laugh in his face, as well as hear it. Instead, he feels a soft hand on the side of his face, her thumb gently brushing against his temple, and then softly against his eyelid, coming to rest just below it. “Open your eyes, dummy.” 

He flutters his eyes open, met with Y/N’s gaze, revering and sweet, “I like you too, Harry. Thought I made it pretty obvious.” While Harry loved Y/N calling him ‘H,’ the slow drawl of ‘Harry’ made a shiver roll up his spine.  

He can hardly contain the smile that slips upon his mouth, leaning up slightly and kissing the thumb resting against his skin. Harry feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest, the relief freeing the worry from his lungs, his muscles finally relaxing, no longer having to uphold the weight of stress upon them. 

If he was candid, Harry had never had to fight for anyone’s affection before. As narcissistic as it sounded, people usually gravitated towards him, whether for the right or wrong intentions. But Y/N had stood her ground, immediately unimpressed by his blase and borderline rude attitude and had reverberated his energy right back at him. If Harry was honest, at first he hated that about her, but it had come to represent her honesty. It made the affection she showed him now that much more special. 

Harry felt as if he had earnt her respect and affection, because he deserved it, not the ‘Harry Styles’ found in the tabloids. He had found someone who made him feel like a real person, and a good one at that, someone who deserved the love she so readily gave him. Harry was lucky enough to be lying next to that someone. 

“You’re right… you did drool over me in the shower. Remember that?” And just like that, the moment of vulnerability is over. 

Y/N lightly slaps Harry’s arm and lets out a disgruntled sound, “aish, you really are a lecher.” He laughs and grabs the hand that just hit him, bringing it back up to his face and kisses her palm gently. He looks back at her face, all traces of aggravation wiped from it like cheap lipstick, replaced with contentment instead. She slips her hand back to the side of his neck, her fingertips trailing through the baby hairs laying against his skin and kisses him. Her lips feel slightly chapped but still so warm, and Harry let’s out a relieved exhale. 

He couldn’t explain why, but this kiss felt different from any other he’d experienced with Y/N, hell any other he’d shared with anyone. It had all the intensity and lust of their kiss in the kitchen, added with a sense of emotion that Harry couldn’t quite place. Each press of her mouth, each swipe of her tongue or gentle nibble of his lower lip felt like she was desperately trying to convey every feeling Harry previously doubted existed. 

Harry remembers the night of their first kiss, recalls thinking he had never felt lust like that before, never wanted to kiss someone so badly, but now laying in this bed with Y/N running her hand through his hair and her hips lightly bucking towards him, Harry feels as if he’s surpassed the way he had felt then. 

He feels pure unadulterated need flowing through his veins, can’t even begin to explain how much he wanted Y/N. She turned to fully face him, tangling their feet together and pressing herself further into the kiss. Harry wishes he could give her more, wants to bring every drop of pleasure to her he possibly could, wants to touch and kiss each part of her. It felt as if a spark had lit within his body, beginning at his chest, travelling all the way through to his fingertips, and straight to his groin. 

Harry brings his thigh between her legs, and she takes advantage of it instantly, rubbing against him. He groans as he feels her warmth pressed against his leg, and he can tell she is suppressing her moans of pleasure as she pushes down harder with each gyration of her hips. 

“Tha’s it baby, get what you need.” 

At this, she leans her head back, a mewl erupting from her throat. Harry kisses down her exposed neck, sucking and nipping a love bite into the skin below him. Bringing his hands to her waist lightly, he helps to guide her in grinding against the thick muscle of his leg. 

She grabs one of his hands grappling at her hip and brings it to her chest, where he feels her hard nipple poking through the thin material of her top. He squeezes and pinches gently, hearing her breath hitch directly in his ear, bringing goosebumps to the skin along his arms, her hands grabbing his broad shoulders and neck. 

With his other hand, he slowly slips his thumb past the hem of her sweatpants, running it along the soft skin there. The tickling sensation completely contradicts the harsh action of her hips rubbing against him, causing a shiver to trickle down her spine. Y/N whines into his ear so quietly, Harry wonders if he actually heard her at all. “Please.” 

“What do you need, hm? Tell me.” 

A bated breath parts her lips, “fuck…anything.” She knows it’s not enough, knows Harry wants to hear exactly what she wants from him, but she’s embarrassed. Isn’t quite used to anyone asking her what she wanted and needed, and Harry’s filthy tongue only brings her more unnecessary shame. 

“C’mon Y/N, use your words. I’ll give you whatever you want, just use your word’s for me.” 

Her hands dig into his shoulders, “fingers, please!”

He kisses her temple and murmurs a quick, “good girl,” before dipping his hand completely into the front of her pants, still only teasing along the line of her underwear. 

Y/N’s not sure how much she can take. Every move, every touch is goading and light, clearly trying to provoke her, and as much as she loves it, she needs relief. She grabs at his arm that is currently so close to the place she needs him to be and tries to force it closer to her, harder against her, anything other than what he’s doing now. “Harry… c’mon, please,” she all but cries. 

He chuckles before slipping into her underwear, feeling her wet heat against his fingertips, she was already dripping for him before he’d even touched her. He presses her clit gently while he kisses against her neck, flicking his tongue against the ghost of the hickey he had given her earlier, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure. 

While he had stopped his teasing touches, it didn’t stop him from using his teasing words. 

“This the first time you’ve gotten so wet for me, pet?” She furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head side to side, attempting to hide her face into his neck. He feigns surprise, “no? Filthy girl. Ever touched yourself thinking about me?” She whines, picking up on his teasing, further burrowing her face away from him, trying to hide the very obvious flush that had risen to her cheeks. 

He laughs, nudging her head with his nose, trying to encourage her to show her face again. She mewls once more, the only indication she heard him was the bucking of her hips against his fingers, now inside of her and stroking against her g-spot. 

“Next time, just ask for my help instead,” he murmurs into her ear, biting at her earlobe. She hisses, attempting to press against him even harder, get even closer to him, although it was almost impossible, being pressed flush against each other with his fingers knuckle deep in her cunt. 

He licks against her jaw, feeling the strong bone under the tender flesh, the warmth of his breath blowing against the damp skin of her neck causes her to shiver, “can I taste you?” Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever nodded her head harder, her eyes rolling back into her head, merely thinking about Harry tonguing the sensitive skin between her legs. 

He continues to kiss down her neck, taking extra time to lick against the dip in her collarbones, revelling in the tangy taste of sweat invading his mouth. He sucks her nipples through her shirt, the material clearly wet and spit-soaked once he pulls away, the air surrounding them, making the outline of her areola obvious. 

He presses a few chaste kisses against the swell of her tummy, finally reaching where she needed him most. He slowly pulls her pants down her legs, trailing the hem with pecks against each inch of newly exposed skin. Grabbing each ankle, he pulls the cuffing over her feet, playfully biting at the bone on her ankle, causing a shriek and a giggle to erupt from her and a playful press against his cheek, imitating a kick to his jaw. 

He laughs, batting her foot away from his face. “Oi don’t damage the money-maker!” 

 Y/N bursts out laughing, shaking her head. He was an idiot, but she loved that they can switch between moods so quickly. While she’s still laughing, he’s pushing her legs apart, his hand nearly fitting over the whole surface of her inner thigh. “C’mon love, spread your legs fo’ me.” 

And with that, Y/N stops laughing. 

While continuing to push against her leg, he presses an open mouth kiss against the front of her underwear, already able to taste the heady flavour. Harry can’t help but let out a deep groan, every nerve ending set alight at his mouth finally around her cunt. The tip of Y/N’s tongue tingles with a beg for him to take off her underwear, but Harry acts on his own accord, almost ripping the garment off in his haste. 

If Harry thought the taste of her was mouthwatering through the cotton, the taste of her without it was even better. 

He had meant to tease her, he really had, but he can’t help but lick straight into her weeping hole, moaning at the taste and the smooth feeling of her smeared against his mouth. Spreading her lips with his pointer and ring finger, Harry continues to explore, flicking his tongue against the swollen bud underneath her pubic bone, causing a loud moan to erupt from her mouth. 

“Holy fuck Harry! Feels so good.” 

Harry tucks two of his fingers into her while sucking at her clit, Y/N tugging at his curls harshly in response. 

It feels so good, but Y/N needs more. The feeling of Harry’s fingers is making her skin tingle, and her legs shake, but she wants nothing more than to be stretched out by him. She wants him to give her everything, push into her slowly, stretch her pussy, and finally feel his cum spurting into her. 

So she pulls him up, one hand still intertwined in his hair and the other on his shoulder, scratching and pulling as a hint to bring his mouth to hers. At first, he’s hesitant, grumbling slightly in annoyance, not wanting to part from her, “Harry please, want to kiss you.” 

He gives her one more harsh suck, before sliding back up her body, where Y/N is waiting with her mouth open and her eyes on him. Harry smirks, slipping the two fingers that had just been inside of her against her tongue, feeling more blood rushing between his legs at the feeling of her licking and sucking them as if it were his cock. 

She bites gently, causing a hiss to escape from his mouth as he drags them back out slowly, quickly replacing his fingers with his lips, licking into her mouth.

The tangy taste of her own cum slips past her tastebuds again, and Y/N had never been one to find it hot, but with the salty flavour transferring from Harry’s fingers and tongue, she’d never been more attracted to her own taste. 

Y/N desperately wants to mix his cum with hers, wants to swallow around his cock and feel the intoxicating mixture slide down her throat, “I wanna taste you now.” 

He breathes through his nose heavily and shakes his head, “just want to feel you. ‘M not gonna last long if you suck me off as well.” Y/N whines, but by the longing look Harry gives her pouting lips, it seems he’s not entirely content with his decision either. 

He reaches over her shoulder, digging into the set of drawers next to the bed, giving Y/N the perfect view of his broad chest, littered with tattoos. He looks so tan, his muscles rippling under the smooth skin, and she wants nothing more than to litter it with love bites and scratches. She teasingly licks at his nipple, and he startles, an uncharacteristic giggle leaving his lips as he comes back to lie in front of her, in his hand a condom. 

Suddenly his eyes clear, the lust caused fog fading, “you still okay with this? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

Her heart swells, how was it possible that this Adonis-like man was also so sweet? There was nothing she wanted more than to be with Harry in every way and right now, she needed him inside of her, “yes Harry. Do you?” 

He scoffs some, “fuck yes,” he mumbles his next statement as he tucks his head under her jaw, putting the condom on at the same time, “feel like my dicks gonna fall off, I’m that hard.” 

She laughs, wrapping her arms around him, she’d never felt so happy and complete, so overwhelmed. Every positive emotion was combining within her, creating a whirlwind of passion and love, causing each feeling to increase tenfold. 

The head of Harry’s cock slips through her folds, sending a zap of pleasure through her each time it nudges her clit, and he smirks each time she twitches, unconsciously arching up towards him. “Y’ ready?” 

She nods, moving her hips closer, making her own attempt to be filled by him. 

Slowly, Harry enters her, each inch causing the delicious burn from him stretching her walls increasing. Y/N almost chokes on her own moans, can hardly stand how good he feels or the way her muscles spasm attempting to adjust to the intrusion. It feels as if each ridge and curve was being simulated, each nerve ending firing again and making her head feel dizzy. 

Harry almost looks like he’s in pain with his eyes shut so tightly, Y/N can see the wrinkles surrounding them. His mouth is parted with sharp breaths entering and leaving his mouth, his head hung back, and his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. 

“Holy fuck. You feel so fucking good.” 

At the sound of his voice, Y/N clenches, making Harry cry out. “Move H. Fuck me, please.” 

He begins slowly, pulling out before slamming back into her, reaching so far Y/N can feel him in her tummy. 

He intertwines their fingers and holds them against the pillow her head rests on. She squeezes them, and he leans his forehead against hers, the tender action contradicting the harsh snaps of his hips. “How do you feel so good?” He whimpers. She nudges his chin with her nose, pushing his lips closer to hers, each thrust smearing them closer together. 

“You’re so good to me H,” she whispers back as she wraps one of her hands behind his head, his neck in the crook of her elbow. Using leverage from her other hand against the bed, she pushes her hips upwards, creating double the amount of friction between them. The actions causing both of them to cry out, Harry seeming to be pushed impossibly further inside of her, the head of him nudging against her cervix. 

“Fuck that’s it. Look at you, usin’ me to get yourself off.”

While the new angle felt so good, it was quickly tiring. Harry could see Y/N fatiguing after a few minutes, knowing the burn in her legs would be almost unbearable at this point. So he tucks his arms under her outstretched ones, laying his torso against hers and tucking his head into her neck, kissing lightly as he completely slows down his movements. He stops the whine that leaves her throat with a quick, “shh, it’s okay. Just wanna take my time with you, never want this to end.” 

While running her hand through his curls and holding the back of his neck closer to her chest, she replies, “me either baby.” 

They spend some time like this, just enjoying each other’s company and the feel of being so close to one another. Y/N breathes deeply, the smell of sex in the room mixing with Harry’s cologne, making her relax and let out a contented sigh. She had never felt more full and so satisfied, with a hint of an orgasm sparking between her hip bones, the dull ember just waiting to be fully ignited by his movements. 

As if sensing this, he speeds up once again. The burn that stretches through her legs as Harry pulls them over his shoulders, mixes with the pleasure of his thrusts, the head of his cock nudging her g-spot with each deep drive of his hips. 

Y/N cries out, grabbing at his shoulders, her nails unintentionally digging into the skin, creating small red crescents along the tense muscles connecting his neck to his scapula. 

He just feels so good. Every movement of his hips, each inhale and exhale, each brush of their lips and dig of his fingers brings Y/N even closer to her orgasm. She can’t tell if Harry plans each of these things with her pleasure in regard or if it’s the chemistry between them that’s causing every sensation to be felt tenfold. All she knows is that she would happily lie under Harry for the rest of her life if it meant she always felt this weightless. 

Harry’s balls make a sharp ‘thwack’ against her ass each time he thrusts, the sound of her arousal echoing through the room, in such a crude fashion, Y/N almost has time to feel embarrassed. On the other hand, Harry revels in the sound, loves the fact he can see, hear, touch every part of her arousal, surrounding them in their own cocoon of sex and pleasure. 

“C’mon Y/N, please. Cum on my cock.” While Y/N had already been feeling the building pressure of her impending orgasm, Harry’s words only work to bring it faster. “Please Y/N,” she bucks up against him, chasing the feeling of his pubic bone rubbing against her already sensitive clit. “Good girl. Fuck, you’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you?” She whines a response, the noise high pitched and hoarse. Harry sees Y/N’s desperate search for her finish, and brings two fingers down, rubbing at her clit. 

“Fuck, yes, Harry!” Y/N can’t describe how overwhelmed she is with pleasure and feeling. Her face feels flushed and sticky with sweat, her legs are slightly cramped from her constant strain to get closer to Harry and his cock buried in her cunt, and when Harry brings one of his ring adorned hands to wrap comfortably around her neck, suddenly Y/N feels weightless. She feels the burst of pleasure from between her legs, a zip running up her spine, leaving her limbs with a tingle. 

Harry hears her cum before he sees it, the moans dripping from her mouth, her eyes widening before she’s squeezing them tightly together. Harry knew he would play that exact moment on replay for the rest of his fucking life. 

He watches as she brings her hand up to his that’s still spread around her neck, and Harry almost can’t stand it when he feels her squeezing it tighter, begging for Harry to give her more. If he wasn’t so close to cumming, Harry might’ve teased her, loosened his grip on purpose to watch her squirm and whine, whisper in her ear how hot it was to see how desperate she was for Harry to simply touch her, alas he’s too close. Can barely form a coherent thought, let alone tease her. So instead he appeases her, tightens his grips and begins to pound into her harder, searching for his own release.

Finally, it comes, Harry releasing a deep groan, grabbing onto the pillow next to her head, letting out a deep moan. Both of them can feel each rope of cum, as Y/N’s own orgasm works to milk each drop from him. 

His movements slowly come to a stop, leaving him tucked inside of her as his length softens. Wrapping his arms around her once again, he revels in the warmth and comfort she brings, his lips pressing against hers gently. “Fuckin’ hell.” 

Y/N giggles and nods in agreement. How had they spent so long fighting when this was the result of them getting along. She still feels Harry shifting above her, the aftershocks of her orgasm, creating an increase in sensitivity, each movement from the handsome boy above her sending a jolt through her whole body. 

“Fuck you’re still squeezin’ me pet.” She hugs into him tighter as yet another twitch is brought from his prick still buried deep within her, “mhm, still sensitive but you feel so good.” 

He kisses her soft temple, “lucky for you, in about fifteen minutes, we can go again.” Y/N scoffs, her head leaving the crook of his neck to give him a dirty look only to be met with his deep smirk. His famous dimples indented next to his smile, as he giggles and brushes his nose against the swell of her cheek. 

“You really are…” his giggle is joined by her own. 

“A lecher,” they finish together. 

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles writing #writing #thank god this is finally finished #holy shit #let me know what you think #i love u #harries

[kingdaddydaichi]

NSFW Alphabet || Katsuki Bakugou

I had so much fun with this! Vodka may or may not have been involved in the making of this little ditty. 🍸 I hope you shameless hussies enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. 😩

*Exhibit A:

(Source)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he gets clingy asf, but plays it off like it's something he's doing for your sake. He'll probably never admit that he feels so vulnerable after sex, but he does. If it was a rough session - which it usually is with him - he'll ask if you're okay, if you're hurt anywhere, kiss any marks he left on you - he's such a protective hero boi.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: he's not gonna lie, he's fully aware of how well-endowed he is. He really is proud of his cock, the way it makes you sing when he works it - and he knows how to work it okay? Favorite non-sexual body part - his arms. He works hard to keep them cut (as in lifting, not cutting). 😬

Yours: listen, Katsuki is an ass man through and through. Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong, I'm 👏🏼 not 👏🏼 listening 👏🏼. He loves to watch the subtle ripples he sends through your ass cheeks when he's driving into you from behind. Also, our big scary boomboom man appreciates a nice, thicc pair of thighs. Bonus points if they're muscular/toned - he loves the way it feels when your thighs have such a strong grip around him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's just say our boy's orgasms are explosive. He cums hard and loud, shooting long ropes of his hot seed. Consistency is about average, not too thick, not to thin, but there's a lot of it. He doesn't taste too bad - salty, but not too bitter. You're more likely to gag from the sheer volume and force of his cum hitting the back of your throat than the flavor.

His precum gets honorable mention here. It's fucking delicious. That is all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It took him no less than 2 years into your relationship to tell you this, and if you ever tell anyone he might actually kill you, or at the very least make your ass bleed. He hasn't gotten to the point that he's ready to try it yet, but he's not entirely opposed to the idea of you pegging him. Someday. It kinda does make his balls tingle a little just thinking about it tbh. He hasn't yet, but he thinks he might be ready to try working up to it and is really close to asking you to stick a finger in his ass and stroke his prostate. He's heard how good it feels and he's super curious to find out for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, actually. He's only had 1 or 2 lovers before you, BUT he's determined to be #1 at everything. Couple that with how perceptive he is and you've got yourself a winner of a loverboy. He's going to make damn sure that, even if things don't work out between you two, he will always ALWAYS be the best you've ever had. No other man will outdo him, E-V-E-R.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle all the way, baby. As stated before, he loves watching your booty jiggle every time he slams his hips against it. He gets off on spreading your ass cheeks to watch his slick-coated cock slide in and out of you. God he just loves hitting it from behind, makes his dick so fucking hard.

Bonus 2nd Favorite Position (couldn't help myself): you on your back with your ankles on his shoulders, your ass lifted off the bed, him on his knees and hugging those thick thighs of yours, keeping them closed as he reams into you. (Slight variation of this one: he leans over you, nearly folding you in half, putting you back on your shoulders with his hands pressing into the mattress beside you, angling you such that his prominent corona rubs over your g-spot as he drills down into you. 10/10 you're gonna scream his name when (not if) your liquid gushes all over him.)

Tell me the truth, am I a disgusting human being? Here are all the fucks I give:

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bakugou is serious asf about his sex game. This is not the time to joke around or poke fun at him, understand me? If you do he will get pissed and either fuck the silly out of you, or if he's feeling particularly ruthless he'll just stop altogether and let you ache for him as punishment until you beg him for release.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He takes care of his body, paying a lot of attention to his hygiene, which includes manscaping to keep his pubic hair trimmed and kempt. The carpet's just a shade darker than the drapes, like a honey blond. If he lets it grow out, it sticks straight out just like his head hair. It's actually kind of funny and he hates it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

*sigh* Let's be honest. Katsuki is not the super romantic type, at least not outwardly. However, if he realizes something he's doing is hurting you - physically or emotionally - he's going to stop dead in his tracks and hold you close, push his fingers through your hair, and tell you how much he loves you and how safe you are. He can be rough and he can be an asshole, but if he thinks he's genuinely hurt you at all, he's all over you, doing everything he can to make you understand that he will never let anyone hurt you, especially not himself. Got that?

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off very often. You two share a very active sex life so he doesn't see the need to. If you have to be apart for more than a day or two, he'll rub one out. Or if the need hits him particularly hard and you're not available or in the mood, he's not above closing his eyes and reaching into his pants to wrap his thick fingers around his cock and start tugging.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lord Baby Jesus, where do I even begin? Kinky, kinky Katsuki. This man should come with warning signs and disclaimers.

First of all, he dom asf okay? Even if he lets you play with his ass someday, he's gonna be bratty about it. He's going to top from the bottom, hashtag facts. And trust that he WILL own you afterwards to securely reestablish his dominance.

Giving and Receiving: Hair pulling. DIRTY TALK - you think he's got a potty mouth in the streets? His mouth is downright filthy between the sheets. Loves it when you dirty talk right back to him. "You love taking my fat cock, don't you princess?" "Mm yessss, fuck me, Katsuki! Your cock feels so fucking good babyyy!" He eats that shit up.

Giving Only: Degradation. Praise. Spanking. Cockwarming. Dom/sub/power play. Shibari/ropework (he tried it bc you wanted to and he fucking loved it). Creampies. Begging. Discipline. Ravishment.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Literally anywhere inside your home/homes - bed, bathroom/kitchen countertops, kitchen/dining table, office desk/chair, any piece furniture is fair game really, up against a wall, washer/dryer, the fucking floor, ugh just all the places to fuck. Not one square foot is sacred tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Wear something that showcases the curve of your butt. Doesn't have to be revealing per se, matter of fact he'll get possessive as fuck if you're showing too much skin in public. At home/privately though? He can't help himself. Dat ass tho...he is going to smack it hard enough that it stings and that's final, understand?

Tease him. You can't be obvious about it though. If he senses that you're doing it on purpose, it'll just backfire. But if you just so happen to brush against his crotch when you squeeze past him, it'll drive him crazy. Go commando in short shorts/skirt and cross your legs just so, his dick will twitch. Even better if you do shit like this in public where you know he won't act on it. But when you get home you best believe he's going to dick you down so hard, won't even bother to take said shorts or skirt off.

His ears and neck are his most sensitive erogenous zones. Whisper in his ear or kiss his neck and he's going to grit his teeth in an effort to fight back the shudder that threatens to rattle his bones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let's get one thing straight. Katsuki Bakugou does not share. This is non-negotiable. He will not agree to anything involving additional people - cuckolding, threesomes, orgies, exhibitionism, voyeurism (unless it's him watching you pleasure yourself - that he will gladly do, and probably start palming himself in the process).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving. Giving puts him in full control of your pleasure, receiving makes him feel like you're worshipping his cock, which you probably are. Have you seen this man's cock? Of course you have. Gatdamn.

Y'all, Katsuki's so good at eating pussy. Like how does one get that good at eating pussy? I don't even know, but god the way he flicks his hot tongue over your precious, tiny bud before wearing it down like a fucking feed bag? It's unnatural. Like it could be his backup quirk if blowing shit up doesn't work out. You've seen the way he licks his lips when he gets excited, everyone has.* He doesn't even bother swallowing while he's feeding on you so you just be dripping in slick and saliva and he's just slurping away. It's lewd.

*See Exhibit A above.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You already know this, but I'll say it anyway. His go-to fucking style is fast and rough, dominant and relentless, hard and dirty. But every once in a while he'll want to take you slow and deep and passionate. He'll hold you so tight in his arms and chest, you'll have to tap his shoulder sometimes to let you breathe. And he'll just roll his hips so fucking thoroughly both of you will feel every last inch, his pubic bone rubbing your clit so hard. You've told him so many times how much you love it when he makes love to you like this, but he maybe makes it a rare treat on purpose. 😈 Little shit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are difficult for our boy. It's not that he's against them, it's just that he savors every drop of sensuality, he has a tendency to draw the pleasure out as long as possible. He can’t help it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The idea of having public sex turns him on, but he's only done it with you a couple of times when he was 10000% sure you wouldn't be caught. He can't risk doing anything that would tarnish his reputation and goal of becoming the #1 Hero. He might be freaky as hell, but he needs a sex scandal like an Alaskan needs a refrigerator.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He loves you long time. He's a Taurus for fuck's sake (well, Aries/Taurus cuspie, but that just sweetens the deal). Great stamina. Grinds you down like a whetstone. Can last as long as he needs to to ensure you cum for him as many times as it takes for you to beg him to stop. If he feels himself getting too close while you're blowing him, he'll stop you and go down on you instead. If he's inside of you, he'll pull out and start kissing all over your body, sucking, nipping, licking until his urge to cum passes, then he pushes it right back in and keeps going.

If on the off-chance he does cum before you, he'll be ready to go again in about 20-30 mins. Just give him some motivation, he deserves it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any toys when you first got together, but you did. He hated the idea of you using them though, especially when he's right there with you. You've since assured him that you don't want to use them to replace him, but to enhance the pleasure. So now you do use them from time to time.

The first time you managed to coax him into using a toy together, it was a small wireless bullet with a remote. When you brought it out and showed it to him, there was a wild glint in his eye. He carefully inserted the vibrator into you, his cock slowly following suit. He loved the fact that he had complete control over this thing, but later complained because the sensation of it against the head of his cock made him cum too fast. He still wants to use it sometimes though. 😏

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he can be so unfair. He loves teasing you until you're begging him to put his cock inside you. He's not so much into orgasm denial per se; he just loves to hear you beg him for shit - to let you cum, to suck his dick, to stop fucking you when you're overstimmed, etc.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol he's fucking LOUD! And he's going to make you cum so hard that you're screaming his fucking name. There was a time when one or both of you lived in an apartment and the neighbors would bang on the wall behind your headboard.

Shit, what sounds does he NOT make? He growls, moans, grunts, groans, yells, swears, fucks you so hard you can hear the wet sound of slapping skin, hell even the bed protests. Another reason he doesn't fuck in public - he can't stay quiet enough to be discreet about it.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Okay, as much of a wild sex beast as he is behind closed doors, he gets embarrassed so easily when your sex life is so much as hinted at around others. It's legit funny how flustered he gets about it.

If he goes into work real tired and Kirishima says, "Hey Bakubro, you look like shit this morning. You and (y/n) stay up too late?" while doing the finger in the hole gesture, Katsuki will just "Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, or I'll blast your ass right through that fucking wall!"

Or if you two go out together with friends and the girls are talking about sex-related stuff, Katsuki will just roll his eyes and try to ignore it. But if one of them is all "So, (y/n), does Bakugou ever like accidentally let off explosions while you're doing it?" and you wink and say, "Only when he's especially *cough* frustrated *cough*". Katsuki will go red from his neck up to his hairline and start stuttering, sparks flying from his palms. "H-hey, d-don't tell them sh-shit like that! I-it's none of their god-goddamn b-business, (y/n), what th-the f-fuck?!" Meanwhile, you and the girls are in stitches while he stomps away, just mortified, bless his heart. When you catch your breath from laughing you'll follow it up with, "Looks like tonight's gonna be one of those nights", and you all lose it again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As has been mentioned, Bakugou's well-endowed. I figure he's packing about 7.5-8" in length x just under 2" wide. He takes some getting used to, that's for damn sure. Oh, and he's more of a shower than a grower. Like around 6" long x 1.5" wide when flaccid. Katsuki + sweatpants/basketball shorts = swinging dick print, alright sis? Take notes, this motherfucker visibly jumps when he does, class dismissed.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Eh, he's surprisingly not ridiculously horny. Maybe a little above average sex drive? A lot of times hero work just takes it out of him and he comes home utterly exhausted and just needs a soft place to land, and you provide him with all the love and nurturing in your heart. ❤

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends, really, on the time of day and what type of day it's been. If it's late (like past 9pm lol) and he fought more villains than usual that day, he's probs gonna pass out pretty soon after. If it's earlier in the day - especially first thing in the morning - it gets him pumped and almost comically genki.

#i'm disgusting #loveitorleaveit #katsuki bakugou #boom boy #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki #mha katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugō #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #bakugou #alphabet #katsuki dropped a bomb on me #bombshell #katsuki thirst

[yesimwriting]

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

 it ​​a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!! 

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see 

--

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

--

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door. 

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz. 

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.” 

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing.  When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact. 

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.” 

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.” 

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.” 

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.” 

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?” 

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...” 

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me. 

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone. 

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz. 

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.” 

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?” 

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis. 

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.” 

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.” 

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.” 

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely. 

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.” 

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.” 

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.” 

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.” 

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.” 

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.” 

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt. 

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read. 

“You’re falling asleep.” 

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple. 

“You’re impossible.” 

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?” 

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.” 

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.” 

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.” 

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.” 

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.” 

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.” 

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.” 

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?” 

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?” 

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards. 

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?” 

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.” 

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final. 

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

[orange-waterfalls]

I Call This One: Bold & Brash!

The egos x artist! gn! reader

ty @pokemonpunqueen for the request!

A/N: I’ve decided that I’m gonna write for the egos when I can’t think of anything else or I need practice writing lmao. I mean I was doing that before? But I didn’t know it? listen it’s fine it’ll be fine but FOR NOW I thiiiink I’m gonna take requests. Just a few. I’ll stop when I think it gets too much. This is exactly what it says. I focused on like drawing/painting for “artist”, with some references to animation thrown in there. I did Darkiplier, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Google, Eric, and a Host thrown in there bc I love him and I miss him

Word count is 1.5k

Enjoy

Egos x artist!reader

Darkiplier

He’ll want to commission art from you

He makes comments about how Mark is a narcissist but also he’s a narcissist.

Oh look, Dark’s asking you for another picture. What does he want? He wants you to draw him? Again? For the fifth time this fucking month? Wonderful.

He likes looking at how you make art of him, be it stylistic or realistic

He will hang them up all over the fucking house so pace yourself

He’s fine if you draw anybody else

Except Mark. Never Mark. How can he tell, you ask? No fucking clue, but he does

Gets a bit worried that you won’t make enough money to live comfortably

Just because not everyone needs a fucking MANSION-

Will always buy things for you if you ask

Likes to be able to support your job or hobby

Sugar daddy? I mean maybe

Makes sure you eat, sleep, drink water, survive--

Leaves snacks for you at your desk for when you don’t want a meal.

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep at a desk

Recommends you wear comfy clothes at all times so you can fall asleep wherever

A bit of an enabler, he’s doing his best tho

If you take commissions don’t be surprised if he threatens to kill someone when they don’t pay or are rude to you

He loves you, that’s all

Wilford

Fucking elated

Draw him!!! Please!!!! Please draw him!!!!! He has coin!!!!! He can pay!!!!!

Ecstatic if you actually draw him like he’ll giggle for an hour straight just looking

Secretly commissions more art from you

So also sugar daddy

It’s always something so obvious so you know it’s him anyways

He likes bright colors and eyestrain for some reason

If you make that, he just. Stares at it. Unblinking. You have to snap him out of it (im not projecting what do you mean)

Gets extremely worried about you not taking care of yourself

Gets someone to fucking babysit you when he’s gone so you take care of yourself

When you get greatly offended by this he settles for texting you reminders

And when you ignore those he texts more

Don’t be surprised if you get spammed by several people and an alarm starts to play from somewhere in the house

You’re gonna be healthy whether you like it or not, asshole

Drags you to bed aggressively

He WILL NOT drug your food with melatonin because that’s illegal. B U T-

He’s a little confused, but he got the spirit

Will advertise your art to anyone and everyone and also on his show and threatens the audience with a gun

AGAIN, a little confused. he just wuvs u so much 

Yancy

I mean technically he’s kind of an artist too so he appreciates your skill and creativity

He’s very nosy and likes to look over your shoulder while you work

If you don’t like him doing that, he still does it, just more secretively

Likes to work in the same room as you. 

That is if you don’t mind constant singing or tap dancing in the background

He shows off your art to anyone and everyone and gets mad if they don’t immediately say it’s fantastic

May or may not have stabbed someone over it, you’ll never know

If you show him something you’re working on, he’ll show you something he’s working on in return

The law of equivalent exchange

You tell him you can make MONEY from things like art and dancing and he goes apeshit he gets so fucking excited

If you’re like an animator and offer to animate his dancing he might actually cry

He’ll deny it constantly every day until he dies

If you make things traditionally he hangs them on the wall Everywhere

You might run out of room

By which i mean you will run out of room as soon as possible

Will never tell you a drawing is bad ever unless it’s like Really Bad which it never will be in his eyes

He loves anything and everything you do u are so precious

You have a permanent support system within the man

Google

Used to see art as pointless

Then comprehended the chemical release it causes in the brain and thought that was fine

Then saw you get really mad with something you were working on and got confused again?

If art no make good chemical, why art?

He still doesn’t understand, but that’s ok

You tried to get him to make something once

He just. Kinda. Made a buncha ones and zeroes

You still framed it and hung in on the wall and he got embarrassed

If he could blush, he would

If you draw him he looks like he doesn’t care but it’s at that point he decides he would die for you

Primary objective: answer questions as quickly as possible. Secondary objective: make u happy. Tertiary objective is to destroy mankind

If you draw bing that will disappear IMMEDIATELY you have BETRAYED him

If you ask for a color palette recommendation he Always says the google colors. Always.

You might’ve thought he was going for an rgby type of thing. But then you realize.

He is in charge of your financing. He will tell you the most efficient ways to make money as an artist and you follow then

He is also in charge of making sure you FUCKING EAT A MEAL

“But isn’t an objective to destroy mankind?” shut up he’s not happy about it either

Despite his best efforts he loves you and that ain’t gonna change

Illinois

Doesn’t fully understand

He needs to be outside at all times and cannot stay in one place

And you’re like??? Required to stay still???? For prolonged amounts of time????? Disgusting. Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?

He might ask you to try and teach him

If you do try he gives up almost immediately

Sometimes you just get so into it that you forget to do basic things and he gets upset

(i.e. eating, sleeping, living, etc.)

He gets worried about you

He is a hypocrite bc he does the same

He will drag you to bed, motherfucker

Honestly he might lock your shit somewhere until you fucking take care of yourself. it’s like a hostage situation god

“Where the fuck did you put it” “I have no clue what you mean. I might know if you eat your dinner, though”

Asshole (affectionate)

Sometimes you like make faces when you try to draw a person and it’s hilarious and cute to him

He looks at your drawings the moment you walk away but acts like he doesn’t care

He cares a lot

Will support you no matter what but will also tell you without hesitation if he thinks something looks shit

Listen he’s out of line but he’s right

Eric

Loves you a lot and will support anything and everything you choose to do or make

Drawing? Awesome! Painting? Wonderful! Animation? Superb!

He often wants to buy you supplies or something but he does not know what anything is

Fuck is a chalk pencil???? What are gel pens vs normal pens?????? Watercolor????? What the fuck are you saying??????????

Will subtly drop hints that you could,,,, draw him,,,,, maybe,,,,, if u wanna 

And by subtly I mean he starts to ask and then starts crying

If you draw him he will cry again he loves u so much 

If he ever were to get a tattoo it’d be something u drew. Nothing else is as important to him at the moment

He enjoys photography and film, and likes to try and bond with you over artistic things

I mean. Some things overlap.

You could talk about a single drawing for hours and he’d listen intently the whole time

Don’t ask him for feedback, it’s always some version of “it’s perfect and I love you”

Even if he hates it

Which,,,,, he might hate it sometimes

He’s not a good reviewer. 2/10, very biased

He likes to take photos when you’re in the zone

If you tell him to delete them he will

While secretly making one his home screen

Host

Hey, he gets it

He writes, he understands the hyperfocus

Sometimes he wouldn’t move from his chair for a day because he was busy writing a script

That being said, you probably have to be the one to get him to take care of himself

Or you have to take turns

Otherwise you’re both gonna fucking die

He asks you to describe your art to him and tries to picture it.

He’ll tell you if he thinks it probably looks good or bad

You shouldn’t take it to heart because he can’t see it

He is a bastard sometimes

“Well, what do you think?” “I think it looks fantastic” “Thanks, babe” “...” “... you think you’re fucking funny, don’t you”

He asks if you can draw him sometimes

No, he won’t see it, but he’ll appreciate the sentiment if you do

He will ask for your opinion on his scripts sometimes

If you say it’s bad he gets really defensive

You work in the same room a lot of the time and forget the other is there

One of you has to preemptively order food or like set a timer so you can goddamn Survive

You’ll be fine

#markiplier egos x reader #darkiplier x reader #wilford warfstache x reader #yancy x reader #illinois x reader #googleplier x reader #eric derekson x reader #eric derickson x reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #darkiplier x gn reader #wilford x reader #wilford warfstache x gn reader #yancy x gn reader #illinois x gn reader #googleplier x gn reader #eric derekson x gn reader #i'll be honest i only thought about this bc i saw mark's fucking VIDEO on tiktok and got kind of excited

[nightowlfandom]

Kim Taehyung- All Mine

HELLO FRIENDS!!

ANON ASKS 

Hello my dear Night Owl. How are you feeling today? 😌

So, I saw your X rated prompt list and I was like "Okay. I need to ask for my idea immediately. I want to see their words on it"

Let's go. Y/N and Taehyung are at a party at a friend's place. Y/N is talking with people and some of them are maybe a bit too close with her so Tae becomes jealous. Even if he knows she didn't do anything wrong, he's giving her a silent treatment while fucking her (in a room upstairs) as he try to contain his moans, trying to be as serious as possible (but can't help to make such sexy faces and saying filthy things... oups 🥵) even if Y/N is trying to seduce him like touching his body or begging him to do some noises bc it's making her go crazy etc.... like he's not harsh, brutal or not calling her bad names (slut etc...) but more like he'll give her the best fuck of all time (to reassure his ego and make sure she's his) + 11, 16, 21, 33, 57 🙇‍♀️💛do you think it's possible even if it's a lot to take please? Thank you so much for your time and efforts! I love you 🧡🧡

This is perhaps the coolest, most detailed (and most considerate ask) I’ve ever gotten. No one ever asks how NightOwl is...I was having a shitty week and now I FEEL GREAT THANKS TO YOU!!

11- Oh god, Y/N…Those sounds you make are so fucking hot

16- I love this...pussy...you like it when I say that?

21- That’s right, you fucking worship me don’t you? Look up at me like I’m your god.

33- I really wanna fuck the innocence out of your eyes, cutie.

57- Fuck! You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours.

So I’m getting huge frat party, Tae is into Y/N and it’s obvious but of course eh. So she’s like, if he’s gonna be mean, ill be mean back. tease..

LEGGO!!

...

“Come on!”

“No.”

“Y/N, Please?”

“No.”

“Just this once!”

“Nana, for the last time-” you shut your textbook and turned to face her. “I don’t want to go.”

“It’s midterms! They’re finally over! Celebrate for once!” she sighed. Nana was your party-girl super extroverted best friend. The most popular girl in her sorority and by default the most popular in university. “You never actually get to have fun.”

“Within good reason!” you sighed. “A bunch of drunken frat boys, nerds who’ve never sipped vodka a day in their lives going crazy. Not to mention the disgusting smell of Smirnoff Ice?” you crossed your arms. “That’s your crowd, not mine.”

Nana sighed, running a hand through her silky hair. “I know you think that sororities and fraternities are nothing but drunken horn-dogs-”

“I never said that Nana. Those are your friends. I’m the last person you should be seen partying with.” 

“Well I want to be seen with you! We’ve been friends since we were in diapers! I just want to spend some time with my bestie.” she stood up. “Just for a couple minutes.”

“Alright you broke me, I’ll go.” you sighed, shoving your book into your bag.

“You will? Really!??” she hopped up. “Y/N thank you.” she took you into a bone crushing hug. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

You nodded as Nana excitedly told you her outfit ideas. You felt bad. It wasn’t nice to stereotype and yet there you were. Nana was the nicest and sweetest girl, she just loved to party. You promised yourself you’d enjoy yourself, for her sake. 

...

You walked down the halls, tapping away at your phone. You passed by the Bangtan Boys, the most well known, most popular, and probably most talented boys in all of the entire school. They would for sure debut before graduation.

“Hey Y/N!!” Taehyung chased behind you in an attempt to catch up. “Hey.”

“Um..Hi?” you raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“I heard you were going to Nana’s party.” he smiled. “I was wondering if-”

“That probably isn’t a good idea...reputation remember?” you glowered.

You and him had went out on one date. One. It was something that you came to regret when he grew somewhat of a reputation, that would soon come to haunt your ass. 

“Y/N-” he sighed. “Come on, we can go as friends.”

“To a party...that’s known for people going into broom closets and fuck?”

“Well it doesn’t have to be a broom closet.” he joked, making you scoff. “Come on, just for a few minutes. Save me a dance and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“....Sure, why not.” you gave in. “Just don’t make me regret this decision.”

...(At the party)

Taehyung was fuming. He watched you laugh in a small group of 2 boys and 2 girls. You were laughing at the top of your lungs kicking back a Screwdriver. He was sure that you hated alcohol but apparently not. You were laughing at something that asshole from his dance class had said. You had forgotten all about him. 

You were wearing a school jacket (it had been Nana’s varsity jacket that she insisted went so well with the black skirt she stuck you in.) along with a long sleeved black shirt. You were wearing your favorite shoes he always saw you in.

Sure, you two weren’t ‘together’ but IT WAS THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. Everyone knew (well not everyone) that you were (not really) his. He noticed one of the guys in particular was getting a bit too flirty for his tastes. You weren’t that funny, but he was laughing as if you were a comedian. You looked like you were enjoying his company too.

No, he couldn’t have that!

He stormed up to the crowd and grabbed you by the hand, pulling you away from your group of friends.

“Hey!” you protested as you were led up the stairs. “Let me go!”

“Quiet.” was all he said as you were taken into a random bedroom. Before you could protest, he crashed his lips over yours. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, holding your head in place. 

“Taehyung!” you mumbled in surprise. “What are you-”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as he backed you up against the room door. He pinned your arms above you head. “You’re mine.” he grumbled. “Mine.” he sounded slightly desperate. He kissed down your jawline, down your neck.

He felts your hands lace into his, relaxing into his touch. He would have been happy had he not been so mad at that asshole flirting with you. 

“T-taehyung. I don’t think doing this here is such a good i-idea-uuuhh.” you tilted your head back slightly. He suckled on your collarbone, making your legs shake. “Tae- S-say something.”

Without speaking, he helped your out of your jacket, which you complied. Before he could do anything else, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back towards you.

Shit, how was he supposed to focus when you were such a good kisser. You played with the ends of his hair as he played with your tongue. He hummed thoughtfully, almost giggling at your desperation to hear him.

He let a small moan escape his lips as he grinded his body against yours. He kissed down your neck, grinding his body against yours in need and desperation.

“T-taehyungie~” you whimpered. “Please say something?”

The way you said ‘please’. Fuck! How could he ignore that?

“ Oh god, Y/N…Those sounds you make are so fucking hot “ he giggled. “You really pissed me off, Y/N.” he grumbled. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, trailing his hands under your shirt. “Hmmm~” he moaned.

“What did I do?” you stared up at him, pouting. “I was talking to my friends.” His hands trailed under your skirt now. “Uhhnn~” your hips bucked as he scratched your clit through your panties. “You aren’t my boyfriend.”

“I’m yours though.” he seethed. “I don’t want you to look at, or even care about anyone else but me. I don’t want you to look at anyone else this way.” he lowered himself to his knees, with an evil smirk on his face. “ That’s right, you fucking worship me don’t you? Look at me like I’m your god.” he whispered as your eyes followed him. “No one else gets you, no one else gets to take you.” he hiked up your skirt. “No one else gets to taste you.”

Tae yanked down your panties, shoving them in his pocket. He wasted no time in digging his tongue into your heat. A gasp ripped through your throat. You could only hope no one needed this room any time soon. He quietly licked stripes up your slit. You let out quiet mewls and moans. “T-taehyungie~” you whimpered.

“ I love this...pussy...you like it when I say that? “ he finally spoke, meeting your eyes. “Y/N.” he grunted, driving his tongue deeper into your core. He suckled at your clit, coaxing the sweetest sounds from you. He couldn’t wait anymore, he had to fuck you.

In the span of ten seconds, you were taken from the wall, thrown on the bed, already having witnessed Taehyung removed his belt and yanked down his pants to his knees.

“ I really wanna fuck the innocence out of your eyes, cutie. “ he gleamed. “You want to get some noise out of me?” he slowly slid himself into you. “Then you gotta make some yourself.”

A small, high pitched gasp escaped you as you tightened around his shaft. “Taehyung.” you whimpered. You felt his nails dig into your hips.

“SHIT!” he growled out loud. “Y/N, FUCK! I was wrong.” he managed to get out. “Fuck I still care about you.” he moaned. “Shit I want you to be mine.” he thrust into you even more. Sweaty skin slapping against skin. “God.” he whimpered. “Y/N!!”

There it was, what you wanted to hear. He crashed his mouth messily over yours again. He practically shoved his tongue through the gap in your mouth.

“ Fuck! You’re mine. You’re fucking mine and I’m fucking yours.” he shuddered, twitching inside of you. “You’re mine.” he thrust harder and deeper. “Only..mine~”

A string of loud curses and moans strung out from the both of you. He pinned your arms above your head, refusing to leave you.

You tilted your head back in pleasure. As he came, he laid sloppy kisses along your neck. You could hear his breathy laughs as he kissed your lips again.

“All...mine.”

...(next day tic tic tic)

“Why hello there, Party animal.” Nana joined your side. “Didn’t see you all night! Did you leave?”

“Nope. I was...with someone.” you trailed off. You wouldn’t admit you were with Taehyung until he did first.

“Hey Y/N, you disappeared yesterday.” that same guy you were talking too before joined both you and Nana.

“She was with me.”

You and Nana both looked up, Taehyung took a seat and through an arm around you. “Hey babe.” he kissed your forehead.

“Oh...I didn’t know you two were dating.”

“We just went public.” he glared in reply. Nana looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “You probably heard us in one of the bedrooms.”

Just as quickly as you calmed down, you were freaking out.

“Wait, that was you guys I heard?” Nana raised an eyebrow at you both. “Y/N?”

“Uh...You know what? Yeah.” you confessed. “No use in lying.”

“Damn Y/N, you didn’t tell me you were with-”

“Well I had to reassure her just where we stood in our relationship.” Taehyung cut the guy off. “I’m sure we’ve established just who Y/N belongs to...”

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