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#so i MIGHT have gotten a bit too enthusiastic at getting chocolate so i wanted to be NICE THAT'S ALL

dekusheroacademia · 1 year

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Ships list updated (Izuocha, Kacchako, Kamijirou)

I added all anime extras and Novel 6 moments for the Izuocha list, Kacchako and Kamijirou list of shipping moments.

These were the additions:

------------------ KACCHAKO

Novel 06

Ch1: Uraraka worries that Bakugou’s personality is not great to befriend Eri

Ch1: After Uraraka has been “taken out” of the training, Midoriya devise a plan to help Bakugou befriend Eri. After the exercise, she complains that she also wanted to partecipate in the plan.

Ch2: Tsuyu asks Bakugou and Deku for help in finding the mysterious “Prince Charming”, and Bakugou immediately guesses that the reason they are looking is that a girl wanted to give chocolate to this Prince Charming and was too scared. Uraraka is surprised his guess was so accurate - thus accidentally revealing that Bakugou’s guess was right.

ANIME EXTRA AND FILLER

During the “Saving the world with love” filler episode, Bakugou decides that one has to go to the store, and he asks Uraraka to go alone so that the whole team of hero won’t get noticed

------------------ KAMIJIROU

Novel 06

Ch2: It is San Valentine and a bunch of girls bring chocolate to Jirou (a lot of it), saying that they loved her singing. It is confirmed by the novel (by how Mineta's react) that it is heartfelt-chocolate (not friends-chocolate). Kaminari complains that all that chocolate is for her and not for him.

Ch2: Mineta goes full zombie mode because he is desperate to get some San Valentine chocolate. Kaminari decides to stop him and let the girls run away. Jirou does not like the plan, but Kaminari still stays - and gets distracted. Mineta escapes and Jirou calls him a dumbass.

ANIME FILLERS AND EXTRAS

Filler episode of season 3: Kaminari and Mineta decide to organize a visit to the school pool because they overheard the girls talking about it. They both want to see the girls in bikini. Once they arrive there, Jirou comments on Kaminari being at the pool too (and the girls are not in bikini)

In season 6, after the war we see Jirou supporting Kaminari, to help him stand him

After the war, while Deku is in a coma, Kaminari is also at the hospital, and Jirou and Tokoyami with him

------------------ IZUOCHA

Novel 06

Ch2: The girls and Sato are cooking friends-chocolate for San Valentine. The chocolate is for the whole class, but Ochako’s mind immediately goes to Deku, and she immediately “shoves it down deep, into a secret place of her heart”.

Ch2: A girl from another class gives Class1a’s girls chocolate for a mysterious “Prince Charming of Class 1A”. They have no idea who that is, and Uraraka wonders if it is Deku. She panics and she “slams the lid of her heart closed, and put a padlock on it”. Ashido teases her when Uraraka says that she was only thinking of a bug.

ANIME FILLER AND EXTRA EPISODES

Pool filler episode: The boys are having a swimming competition. During the last turn (Bakugou vs Deku vs Todoroki), Kirishima cheers for Bakugou, Uraraka for Deku

At the beginning of season 3, the anime reintroduces Ochako’s crush: she comes close to Deku and he seems embarrassed (while waiting for the bus to leave), and when she notices how close she is she turns red and starts dancing about their trip, out of embarrassment.

In the filler episode of season 3, where the class has to stop a fake robberer, Deku and Uraraka both react the same enthusiastic way when they hear about the special training

In the same episode: Uraraka and Iida compliments Deku for getting praised by Aizawa

In the filler episode of season 4, the students hear that a reporter is gonna come to UA and Ochako turns towards Deku, who blushes because she is close

In the same episode, Ochako blushes in shock looking at the reporter taking a selfie with Deku. Later on, she comes to greet him and smells the nice food All Might has gotten Deku. By doing so she ends up a bit too close and they both blush.

During the Overhaul arc in season 4, the anime adds a scene where Ochako sends Deku a reassuring confident look (like cheering him up)

Season 5 also adds a scene where Ochako extensively thinks about Mei’s breasts on Deku and punches herself, the scene is enhanced when compared to the manga

At the end of season 5, we have a scene with a bunch of characters receiving news of the next mission, and Ochako and Deku look at each others, questioning

The start of season 6 adds to non-speaking scenes of Deku and Ochako seen acting together to start the mission (in helping the people)

The second OP of season 6 shows a scene where Ochako finds Deku and offers him her hand. The camera shows Deku imagining how he could take Ochako’s hand

The second ED of season 6 adds Deku’s treasured memories. The tok moment is among them, another one is training with her and Sero and walking home with her and Iida

#kacchako #dekuocha #izuocha #kamijirou #updated lists #novel 6

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thetarttfuldickhead · 4 months

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A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

24.

Due to lucky timing or – more likely – a long-honed sense for when Jamie and Georgie were ready to be interrupted, Simon stepped into the sitting room to announced that dinner was ready about half a minute after the hour-long, and occasionally weepy, talk was winding down to general cuddles.

Jamie got up to greet him with genuine enthusiasm. He’d already moved out by the time Simon moved in, but he liked the man well enough. He’d been dead good for Mummy, and Simon had always been decent about giving her and Jamie space, never seeming to mind that Georgie tended to focus all of her attention on Jamie whenever he was around. Which was only natural, given that Jamie was her only son and a fucking great one at that, but some men might have been pissy about it, so Jamie was still glad Simon wasn’t one of those.

“Tried to make a few extra sides that won’t mess with your meal plan, I know you’ve got a game tomorrow,” Simon said as he ushered them towards the carefully set table.

They’d gotten a new cloth since the last time Jamie was here for Christmas, a rustic looking light grey number, but the pink plates with a pattern of golden Christmas trees around the edge were the same ones Jamie had given her when he was 17. Simon had matched them with green napkins, intricately folded around small golden sprigs of plastic mistletoe, and pink and gold ornaments scattered across the table.

“That’s nice, that,” Jamie said, because it was, and Simon beamed at him.

The dinner was nice, too, the traditional turkey and trimmings complemented, for Jamie’s benefit, with a French omelette with smoked haddock, a large salad, and a small bowl of liberally spiced brown rice. It took Mummy most of the meal to fill Jamie in on all the latest neighbourhood gossip, but there was a fair bit of chatter about football as well, and a couple of minutes devoted to Simon’s new knife set. It was fun, and easy, and by the time Simon got up to put the kettle on and Jamie went out into the hall to collect the bag of gifts he’d brought, Jamie was feeling more relaxed (and fuller) than he could remember doing in… well. A fucking long time.

As they settled on the couch with their tea cups, small glasses of mulled cherry wine and a frankly shocking array of sweets (of which Jamie allowed himself exactly one small slice of candied orange dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt), Mummy fretted slightly over not having any proper gifts for him there. “We had them sent over your place, since we didn’t think you were coming. I’m sorry, love.”

“No, yeah, I know, got them last night. Haven’t opened them yet, though, ‘cause, uh, I wanted to see you first.”

She smiled, and pulled him close to smack her lips against the top of his hair. “Do it first thing when you get home, and every last one of them will be a kiss from me.”

“I will, Mummy.” He’d be getting home after midnight, and by rights should head straight for bed to make sure he was in good shape for tomorrow’s game, but knew he would take the time to unpack the carefully wrapped parcels. Knew his mum would likely be up and ready to respond to any excited reaction texts he might send.

Jamie apologised for the randomness of the gifts, sheepishly admitting that he’d spent too much time getting Roy stuff to think much about anyone else; they waved away his regrets and oooh:ed and aaah:ed enthusiastically at the blanket (Georgie), the cookbook (Simon), the weekend getaway in Cornwall (both of them), and the other things Jamie had picked up rather hurriedly yesterday.

Merry Christmas (I don’t want to fight tonight) came on. Grinning cheekily, Mummy got to her feet, pulling Jamie up with her as she went, and then they were dancing all across the sitting room, laughing and loudly singing along, the way they’d always done when Jamie was a kid.

“Oh, baby, you’ve gotten dead good at this,” Mummy said a little breathlessly after Jamie had spun her round in a complicated twirl, and he nodded, pleased that she’d noticed his mad moves. “I’m a footballer, ain’t I. Gotta be quick on me feet.”

The song ended and the far slower Have yourself a merry little Christmas began to play. Jamie released his mum to Simon, and as the two of them swayed slowly to Judy Garland’s soft crooning, Jamie took the opportunity to sneak away for a bit, going up the stairs to his old room. It looked pretty much exactly the way he’d left it when he moved into the Academy residence. Mummy (or Simon, probably) kept it clean, but hadn’t moved any of his stuff or done anything about the general messiness of the room. Only the Keeley poster had been a later addition, and only because having semi-nudes up at his academy room had been frowned upon and he’d still been minding the rules back then.

Mad, to think that he’d ended up dating her. Mad, that he’d played with Roy Kent, the one player whose poster he’d never taken down (although he’d come close, the first time he was back home after joining Richmond and Roy had proved to be a massive cunt, but it had felt like letting Roy win somehow, so it had stayed up).

Madder still, that only two nights ago he’d been curled up with both of them on a couch in Roy Kent’s house.

Grinning, he pulled out his phone and called Keeley. Yes, it was late and it was Christmas and it might be a prick thing to do, interrupting whatever celebration they had going, but as much as he was trying to be better, Jamie hadn’t gotten to where he was by not going after what he wanted. Besides, they’d want to know how things had gone, wouldn’t they? Keeley would, at any rate.

His assumption turned out to be correct because Keeley not only picked up, but smiled like she couldn’t be happier to hear from him. “Jamie, hi! You doing all right? Are you up in Manchester?”

“Hi, Keeley. Yeah, I am, yeah.” He paused, taking a moment to just look at her, taking in the loveliness of her face, before adding, “Talked to me mum. It went great. I mean, I was a bit nervous, but it went great, yeah, so it’s all good now.”

“Yeah?” Her smile softened. “That’s amazing, Jamie. Really glad to hear that.”

“Yeah. So, uh, I just wanted to call to tell you and, and, say thanks, I guess. For, you know, telling me I needed to go here. And, uh, merry Christmas.”

“You’re welcome, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”

“Oi!” Roy’s voice, off-camera and sounding unusually high over the speakers. “Keeley, do— Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were on the phone.” A pause. “That Jamie?”

“Yeah. He’s up in Manchester, come say hi.” Keeley shifted a bit, angling her phone to include Roy in the picture.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. Roy must really be into Christmas, because he was actually wearing a patterned tie with his black shirt and black suit jacket. A dark patterned tie, admittedly, but it had got little golden dots on it, which was far more festive than Jamie would have thought Roy could ever manage.

Then again, he’d had to rethink a lot of his thoughts on Roy in the past two days.

“Hi,” Roy said, sounding… not unsure, exactly, but… not not unsure either. A little reserved, but in a way Jamie, canny reader of people that he was, suspected had more to do with uncertainty over their new relationship status, rather than any real desire to be an arse.

Jamie didn’t blame him. He was feeling a little uncertain himself (which was still a new and not particularly fun experience). Things had changed between them since Roy rushed in to find him crumpled on the floor—but how exactly, and into what?

He guessed they’d find out, and fuck, wasn’t that an interesting thought?

“Hi,” he said. “Merry Christmas. You enjoying the holiday, yeah?” He nodded towards the tie, smirking just a little. (It was a decent tie. Roy looked well fit in it. But if the man didn’t want people taking the piss when he donned a bit of colour he shouldn’t make such a point of always wearing black then, should he?)

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m loving it. Spent the afternoon knocking on random doors looking for a dentist for my niece, that was a fucking riot. And,” he continued before Jamie had the chance to ask what the hell he was on about, “some nitwit had this John Case box set delivered to my door this morning, because apparently some people have no idea when to fucking quit.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asked, unable to hold back a grin, because while Roy’s word had been gruff, there was a small smile in his eyes that said that they weren’t really. “Think that sounds like great gift, mate. Real thoughtful, like.”

Roy just snorted, but Keeley was clearly holding back a laugh, her eyes shining as they wandered between Jamie on her screen and Roy.

“It’s the last of them,” Jamie promised, just in case Roy actually thought he’d be keeping this up forever from now on. “But I’d already gotten it, so… “ He shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Roy said, then added off Keeley’s not at all discreet elbow to his side, “I mean, thank you.”

Jamie was about to tell him not to overdo it or he’d burst vessel or something, but was interrupted by his mum calling his name from downstairs. “Sorry,” he said. “Gotta go. Be heading back in thirty minutes, so I wanna make the most of it, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Keeley immediately said (almost covering Roy’s muttered we’re really not stopping you). “Go. And good luck with the game tomorrow, yeah? I’ll be in the box with Rebecca, cheering you on.”

“Decent, yeah. Um, thanks again. Merry Christmas.”

As he moved to end the call, Roy suddenly said, “Jamie, wait.”

Jamie waited. And waited, because whatever it was that Roy had on his mind, he apparently had a hard fucking time getting it out of his mouth.

Eventually, Jamie’s patience wore thin. “Mate, I’m not being funny, yeah. I really gotta go. You maybe wanna send me a fax instead?”

“Oh, that’s very funny,” Roy growled. “The fuck happened to you not being a prick, huh?” Then he made a face, looking pained. “Actually, and I can’t fucking believe I’m about to say this, but maybe sometimes you need to be a prick. Not to people,” he added with narrowed eyes, having apparently caught the way Jamie lit up at that, “but on the fucking pitch. I mean, sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes, being selfish and going for the shot and getting in the other players heads by being an utter cunt like only you fucking can is better than passing the ball.”

Jamie gaped at him, but before he had time to say anything or ask how the hell he was supposed to know when it was the right time to be a prick, Roy muttered a curt, “That’s it. Bye,” and ended the call.

“Um, rude,” Jamie told the black screen. He was half tempted to call Keeley again, just to tell her bye properly (and maybe tell Roy… something, Jamie wasn’t totally clear on what, because Roy had been rude, but he’d also told Jamie to be a prick sometimes, and had almost smiled at him several times, and that was all just a bit confusing), but he hadn’t lied when he said he wanted to make the most of his time with Mummy before he needed to leave for London again.

“We’re not done, mate,” he told poster-Roy sternly, before adding a far softer, “Good night, Keeley,” to poster-Keeley

And then he headed downstairs, back to Mummy and the rest of his Christmas, and then – when he’d hugged her ten times or a hundred – he headed to London, back to his team and the rest of his life, and it came to him as he sat on the train with the midwinter night speeding past him, that he was travelling both from home and to home and that it was well fucking mint.

#this isn't late it's still december 24:th in loads of places #and i haven't gone to bed so it's a new day for me either #merry christmas dear ones #god jul #only the epilogue left #i am now all christmases out and will collapse into bed #jamie's christmas carol #royjamiekeeley

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redpandaramblings · 3 years

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Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 6

Part 1 Here

Next part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

Before Bakugou could reply, the jeweler came back into the room and handed Denki a piece of paper.

“All right sir, here is your receipt! Your ring should be ready in three days.”

“Thanks.” Denki shoved the receipt into his pocket, quickly making his way to the door. “See you around Bakubro. Don't want to be late for my shift.” The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bakugou wasn’t annoyed though. Now he could pick out the perfect ring for Y/N and not worry about Kaminari being nearby. Everyone knows Kami can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep all of this a secret.” Denki moaned into his hands. He was sitting with his head buried in his arms. Y/N reached across the table and gently petted his hair.

“I know what you mean, but I don’t think either of us are in a good position to start telling people.”

Y/n and Denki sat in a secluded corner of a dimly lit cafe. Both of them had this time free and both of them definitely needed to talk. They stood a lot less chance of anyone asking questions if they were just two friends getting lunch instead of them privately going to each other’s apartments.

Denki looked up, giving Y/N a wide eyed expression. “I know, but I wasn’t expecting Bakugou to show up when I was dropping off that abomination of a ring! I just was lucky the jeweler had already taken it to the back. You were right by the way, that thing is absolutely horrendous. Like, was the designer blind?”

Y/N snorted. “From what I’ve heard, great great grandpappy had a lot more money than brains and wanted to impress his omega by shoving as many stones onto a ring as possible.”

“No kidding. I think it can be seen from space.”

“Very likely.” Y/N chuckled before slumping back into her seat with a sigh. “Though I might have an idea about what Bakugou was doing there.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. When I got back he invited me to the summer festival. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Ah shit, yeah. Isn’t that your guys' anniversary?”

“Yep.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course he had to pick this time to actually celebrate. We haven’t gone or done anything… God, I think since he became a hero.”

“So you think he was getting a gift.” Denki sat back as the server came, placing your orders in front of each of you. You both murmured your thank yous and waited until the server was out of earshot before resuming your conversation.

“Yeah, he had to have been. Makes me feel terrible, but there wasn’t a good time to… Well…”

Y/n gestured between herself and Denki.

“Tell him that you’ve been betrothed to an omega of much superior looks, breeding, and manners?”

You gave Denki a little kick under the table as he cackled. He grinned cheekily as he poked at his food. “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism. I get it though. Timing sucks all the way around.”

You nodded, sighing and taking a bite of your own food. “Can’t say anything during his heat. Then his schedule was swamped, and I had to sort things out with you. Then bam, anniversary that for some reason he decided to remember this year.”

Denki snorted, popping a bite into his mouth. “That’s about the long and the short of it. And we haven’t even begun to figure out how to tell everyone we’ve not only accepted arranged betrothals, but that we’re engaged to each other.”

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could just move to Tahiti and never speak to our former friend groups ever again?”

“A valid possibility. But that means we’d have to learn French and maybe Tahitian. You know I only passed English because Hitoshi and his dad coached me.”

“Fair point.” You sighed heavily. “But I’m really not looking forward to these conversations.”

“They have to happen though. You might have some anonymity to hide behind, but I’d rather my friends not find out about our engagement when they see an article about Chargebolt getting married.”

“Really?” You smirked slightly. “Then you’re going to tell everyone at your agency, hmm?”

Denki kicked you under the table. “Shut up!”

You poked at your food again as the smile fell from your lips. “So… Did you get a chance to think about what I sent you?”

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah. And I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I thought about it a lot. I hate to leave the area, but it would be too awkward to stay here after everything.”

A few days ago you had sent Denki an email with a list of places that had job openings that would suit both of you. You both loved where you lived, but after everything, how could you stay? There’s no way the two of you could continue to keep living in the same apartment building as Bakugou. That would be cruel. Cruel to whom you didn’t quite want to think about. You spoke up again.

“Any place catch your eye?”

Kaminari nodded. “I was kind of thinking Okinawa. I have a few connections there. Decent distance from here and from our parents. And that would probably be the easiest transition.”

“Works for me.” You said, as if it wasn’t ripping your heart out to do this. It hurt. But it had to happen. In the end, you had to believe this was what was best for everyone. It might take some time, but this was it. This was what would make everyone happy in the long run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinsou was worried. Denki had been acting odd. And that’s saying something. The blond omega was usually loud and bubbly, the life of the agency. At least once a week, he invited Shinsou out for drinks, meals, clubs, karaoke, or some other nonsense. But ever since he’d gotten back from his three day leave, Kaminari had been acting strange. When he thought no one was looking, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like he was puzzling out the toughest problem of his life.

Denki having a problem? Pretty typical. Denki having a problem and not talking to Shinsou about it? Pretty unusual. The blond had always come to the purple haired alpha with even the simplest of problems. Apartment searches, furniture assembly, what support items would suit his quirk best, even things like what to get from Starbucks. And even though he might groan and roll his eyes, secretly Hitoshi loved every second of it. When he had helped by digging through websites, cobbling together a rickety shelf, or reminding Denki that he always got the most cloyingly sweet items on the menu; Hitoshi got to pretend that he was Denki’s alpha.

Shinsou wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with Denki. Probably had been since high school at least. His dad had warned him against loud blonds while his father had laughed. But he couldn’t help it. Kaminari had been one of the first people to enthusiastically believe in him. Had always sought him out and wormed his way into Shinsou’s life and heart. And now Shinsou couldn’t understand it, but Denki was pulling away. Even as he watched the blond who was typing up a report on his computer, it somehow felt like Kaminari was slipping right through his fingers.

Shinsou cleared his throat. Kaminari glanced up. “Yeah man? What’s up?”

“You doing okay, Denks? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”

Denki met his eyes, startled, then quickly glanced away. “Yeah. Yep! Totally fine.”

“Denki. I know you.”

Kaminari sighed and slumped on his desk. “Just some life stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff.”

Shinsou frowned, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Denki snorted and laughed quietly. Shinsou furrowed his brows.

“Yeah” Denki sighed. “I know. But half of it isn’t really my stuff to tell and the other half isn’t exactly worth talking about.”

“You sure? We could go grab one of your obnoxiously sweet coffees after work. Go to mine or yours, watch an old crappy horror.”

“Tempting. Thanks man. I would, really, but I got some stuff I have to do after work. Some other time maybe.”

Shinsou frowned. It was rare for the omega to turn down an invitation for a movie night. Hell, it was rare for Denki to turn down an invitation, end stop. It made him even more worried about his omega… friend. His omega friend. His friend who just so happens to be an omega. Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to ruin the best friendship he had. But he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His alpha had decided on the electric blond long ago, and the omega’s unusual behavior and unhappy scent was driving him wild with the need to protect. He really needed to pull himself together and confess soon.

“Well, whenever you’re free then,” Shinsou said, reluctantly letting his hand fall from Denki’s shoulder. “You know my number.”

Denki nodded and looked up, giving him half a smile. “I do. Thanks Shinsou.”

Shinsou walked back to his desk, his mind made up. He needed to tell his omega how he felt, and soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N twisted and turned, looking at herself in the mirror. It had been a very long time since she’d worn a yukata. It didn’t feel right to dress up like this. But wearing anything else also felt wrong. Everything about this date felt wrong. Like this was the kind of she she did in another life. And now here she was, going on a date with the man she loved. Who she’d always love. And who she’d already decided she was going to let go.

Y/N snorted and fussed with her hair a bit. Maybe she should have just refused this date. Claimed to be sick or something. But that felt wrong too. So, she just had to get through tonight. After all, what’s one more night of pretending everything is fine? Hopefully this could be a good memory from a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be. After tonight, she’d wait a couple days and then talk to Bakugou and let him go like he clearly wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki was going to throw up.

He was going to throw up, right here, all over himself and all over shitty hair, too. His red headed friend was giving him a pep talk as he helped Bakugou into his jinbei. Not that Bakugou needed the help. Or the pep talk. It just was easier to let the squad come over when they had found out about his date. It’s not like he wanted them there or anything. Once Kiri, Mina, and Sero realized he was going to use this date to ask Y/N to be his mate, they had insisted on helping him get ready.

None of them knew about the little velvet box in his pocket and that his plans went further than just asking Y/N to be his mate. Bakugou bit his lip to keep from frowning as he looked over his friends, a certain loud blond conspicuously missing. You wouldn’t hear Katsuki admit it out loud, but he really wished Denki could have been here. He loved the others, and they were great in their own ways. But Denki was his pack’s other omega. He got it in a way that the others didn’t. After tonight, he’d have to make sure to catch Pikachu up on all the news. Hell, maybe he could help his fellow blond finally talk to that purple haired idiot he’d been mooning over for years. Everyone in the pack knew Denki’s family had been harping at him to settle down for quite a while.

Bakugou looked up in time to see Mina coming at him with the hair grease. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck no! Keep that shit away from me!”

“You’ve got to do something about that pile of straw you call a haircut. Besides, Wouldn’t it be nostalgic? Weren’t you interning for Best Jeanist again when you asked Y/N out the first time?”

“Yes, and I’d rather shave myself bald than ever have my hair like that again!”

Mina sighed. “Fine. We’ll do something else. But if I can’t slick it back, you will be wearing eyeliner!”

“IN YOUR DREAMS, PINKY!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You waited outside the entrance to the festival. It was strangely soothing to watch the people flow by, like you were a rock overlooking a stream. There were groups of friends, couples both young and old, families where the laughing children ran ahead of their parents eager to get inside. You gave a small smile at the last. Maybe that could be you someday, a parent getting to see a festival through the eyes of a child again. Though the mental picture was hazier than it used to be. The children you half imagined just blurs of colorful yukatas, instead of loud and stubborn blond haired brats with their father’s eyes and attitude. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself as a thought occurred to you. If you and Kaminari actually went through with this plan, decent chance the kids would still be blond. The thought hurt a little.

“Y/N!”

You looked up and had the breath knocked out of your lungs.

Katsuki was beautiful. You knew it. Thought it often, even. But tonight he practically glowed. His hair had been tamed into a softer look than usual. The jinbei he wore was the perfect compliment to his skintone. Was that… Yes. Dark eyeliner made his crimson eyes pop. Your heart ached. You’d always love this man. No matter how it tore you apart, he’d always own part of your heart and soul. You smiled weakly and raised your hand in greeting.

“Hey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Bakugou scratched the back of his head. “Mina got ahold of me.”

“That explains it then.”

“Hey!” Katsuki gently elbowed you in the side before taking his place next to you. “You saying I can’t dress up on my own?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N!” You dodged out of the way as he swatted at you, laughing. Yes. This could be it. One last good night.

“Shall we go in?” You asked, holding out your hand.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked as he walked past you, ignoring your hand.

You gave a quiet smile as you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki picked at his food, none of it making it to his mouth. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right here and some paparazzi was going to see and take a picture and the big headline tomorrow was going to be “A Puke Worthy Proposal.” He was trying his best to keep up the illusion that everything was fine and normal, but it was rough. It had been a long time since he’d taken his alpha on even a normal date. And this wasn’t any normal date. It didn’t help that things were feeling forced and awkward.

He wanted to hold your hand, but his own hands were sweating buckets. He tried to keep up casual conversation, but that was getting harder and harder as the night wore on. Every sentence he wanted to just blurt it out and get it over with. It was impossible to keep talking about what vendors he recognized when all he wanted to say was “I love you and I’ll always love you and I want you by my side until the sun stops shining.”

It didn’t help that things felt awkward. Almost nothing was feeling easy or natural. It really had been far too long since the two of you had gone on any sort of date. He frowned as he thought about it. It had been over a year, at least. Longer, even. Well, he was going to have to fix that. He’d be able to use some of that pro hero paycheck and spoil you like you deserved. His Y/N. His mate. And soon, his wife.

Bakugou stared at nothing, his eyes going unfocus as he started daydreaming about how spectacular your wedding would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a disaster. You glanced over to where Bakugou stood picking at his food, looking bored. You’d been trying to keep up the conversation, but for the past several minutes you’d only gotten hums or grunts in response to anything you said.

“It’s amazing how they got all those pro heroes to dance nude as one of the main attractions this year.”

Katsuki grunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

You sighed, looking down at your own untouched food. You never should have agreed to come. At least this date was proving it to you. This had to end. The two of you didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. It was even clearer that Katsuki wasn’t even interested in trying. You had no idea why he wanted to have this date in the first place. Some bizarre sense of obligation? Maybe his heat had shaken him up enough that his omega needed the sense of normalcy? This issue was this wasn’t normal for the two of you anymore. It hadn’t been for a very long time. You sighed, glancing around for a trash can to oust you untouched dango.

A loud pop caused you to look up. The fireworks were about to start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou looked up at the sound of the first firework.

“Wanna head to the pier?”

You nodded quietly, following him as he led the way. He was sweating so much now that if he set himself off he’d take out half the city.

This was it. It was almost time. The two of you were going to watch the fireworks from the out of the way pier like you had all those years ago. It was at the end of that fireworks show the two of you had had your first kiss. And this time… Well this time at the end of the show he was going to propose and you were going to say yes, and it was going to be perfect.

That is if he didn’t barf before you two got there.

“Hurry up,” he grunted as he picked up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried not to flinch at Bakugou’s harsh tone. He clearly wanted to get this night over with even more than you did. You tried not to let it hurt.

The pier was empty as it always was. The lack of lighting keeping others away. The first time you had discovered it, it had felt hidden and intimate. Now it felt desolate. Lonely.

You walked up to the railing and stared at the sky. The fireworks didn’t feel magical anymore either. Your fingers wrapped around the railing as you glanced to the side. Bakugou wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the reflections of flashes in the dark swirling water below.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

And that was Part 6, my darlings! Hope you're enjoying the drama, because there's more angst on the way! You can scream at me about the cliffhanger in replies, reblogs, tags or asks. :P

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#reader insert #bnha reader insert #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #reader insert angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #omegaverse #omega bakugou #alpha reader #multi part fic #denki #fake dating #fake engagement #part 6

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jungshookz · 3 years

Text

cream a little dream of me; knj

➺ pairing; kim namjoon x reader

➺ genre; lveb!universe, you’ve been asking for this and i’m finally here to tell you that this is smut! nsfw! 18+! oral sex (receiving)! dirty talk! namjoon has a dirty mouth and y/n is into that!! y/n’s a great listener and namjoon is very into that!! also frosting is involved somewhere

➺ wordcount: 8.9k

➺ summary; y/n has a wet dream about namjoon and yoongi just wants to help his best friend get laid.

➺ what to expect; “it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh... when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?”

➺ optional reading: here’s the link to la vie en bonsai if you haven’t read it yet or if you just want to experience the story all over again!

»»————-　☁️　————-««

to say the least, yoongi is… confused.

in the three years that he’s been friends with you, he likes to think that he’s seen every single one of your emotions

but this?

this is different somehow… yet he can’t quite put his finger on what’s so different about it...

he’s seen elated y/n

he’s seen devastated y/n

he’s seen infuriated y/n

he’s seen stressed out y/n

but this y/n?

the starry-eyed and constantly looking like you’re day dreaming y/n?

he can safely say he’s never seen this version of you before and it’s a little concerning because now he has no idea what the protocol is

even back when you guys were in university you practically never daydreamed during lectures

you were always focused on the professor and whatever powerpoint was playing on the screen with a concerning amount of intensity

one time, yoongi put his hand over your eyes just to be funny and you nearly snapped his wrist off

“okay, seriously?” yoongi waves his hand in front of your face for the fifth time in half an hour before shaking his head gently, “what’s gotten into you?”

you blink quickly when you snap out of your little daze, looking at him and setting the bowl of batter down on the counter before checking out the damage you’ve done

you’re supposed to fold this batter

not whIP it

now it’s ruined and you’re going to have to start all over!

“i don’t know what that batter ever did to you, but you might need to take it down a notch before you sprain your wrist…” yoongi trails off, leaning over a little and wondering if he can get away with dipping his finger in for a teeny tiny taste

sure, he might get salmonella or whatever from ingesting raw eggs, but it’ll be worth it

“also, what are you even making?” he frowns, gesturing to all the items splayed on the counter, “because there are like ten different things going on here-”

you look around the kitchen before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

you... don’t really have an answer for him

there’s bread dough over here

three bowls of frosting (chocolate, cream cheese, buttercream) over there

some chopped up peaches on the cutting board

the puff pastry is de-frosting in the fridge

there’s a pie baking in the oven at the moment

you just finished greasing up a mini cupcake tin

and don’t forget about the bowl of batter you’re currently whipping the life out of

(let the record show that you have no idea what you’re making. you have no clue what this batter is for. and why’d you take out your set of food-colouring dye??)

you just needed to let off some steam and this is the only way you know hoW

“isn’t this great? working out in the comfort of my own personal gym…”

both you and yoongi look over towards the kitchen door when you hear jin’s voice ring through namjoon’s laptop from the living room

yoongi perks up in interest when you suddenly scurry over to spy at namjoon through the crack of the door before he gets up to follow you

“yeah, easy for you to say-” namjoon grunts as he pushes himself up off the ground so he can clap his hands together quickly before his palms land back on the ground in a solid thump

he thought push-ups were already awful as is so he wasn’t very pleased when jin told him to start doing them with claps in between each set

also, jin has access to a full-blown gym in his house, but namjoon doesn’t have any access to actual weights so he’s had to resort to using jugs of water instead

it’s actually working out pretty well!

he took the sweeper part of the broom off and then used a lot of duct tape (and patience) to tape the jugs to both sides of the pole

he felt like he was mulan from that one part of the movie except mulan is probably physically stronger than him

“you know, i’m surprised he hasn’t smashed his face against the floor yet...” yoongi snorts as he continues to peer at namjoon over your shoulder

he waits a couple seconds for you to respond but frowns when you let out a short little sigh while keeping your eyes glued on your sweaty boyfriend

...

see?!

you’re doing it again!!!!

you have your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth and your eyes have gone all lidded and hazy

your grip around the edge of the door is really tight and your knuckles are going kind of white

good god

yoongi narrows his eyes suspiciously before jabbing your shoulder roughly, “hey. what are you thinking about?”

you shake your head a little too quickly for his liking before turning back around and brushing past him to get back to the counter

huh

okay

something’s up for sure

he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad or whatever but he’s going to find out

your cheeks and the tips of your ears are a little flushed now which is even more interesting

what could possibly be going on in that little noggin of yours?

“tell me what you were thinking about.” yoongi sits back down on the stool as he stares you down across the counter, “y/n- look at me.”

“i’m not-” you glance up at yoongi for a quick second before looking back down, “nothing!” you mutter, your arm starting to move faster as you continue whipping the mystery batter

yoongi immediately points to the ball of dough sitting a couple feet away from him, “tell me what you were thinking about or i’ll eat that ball of raw dough right noW-”

“-!” you set the bowl down before scrambling to move the dough out of yoongi’s reach

he’s eaten raw dough before (it was raw cookie dough and he took bites of it every time you turned to face away from him) which resulted in him suffering for like 48 hours and you’re not taking any chances

“you can’t keep secrets from me.” yoongi deadpans, “aren’t we best friends? don’t you trust me?” he bats his lashes at you before pushing his bottom lip out in a pout, “because i certainly trust you… and you, out of all people, should know how hard it is for me to trust someone…”

your eye twitches

you know he’s only saying all of this to butter you up so that you’ll inevitably give in and tell him what’s going on... and you hate that it’s actually working...

look at that face!

those cheeks!!!

those eyes!!!!

“i…” you trail off, biting the inside of your cheek as you contemplate whether it’s a good idea or not to tell yoongi what exactly’s been going on with you lately

if you tell him, he’ll stop bugging you about it

then again, if you tell him, he might keep bugging you about it

but he’s already suspicious of you so it seems like you don’t really have a choice...

this is really a lose-lose situation, if you think about it

...damn.

“hey, do you remember that time you were crying really hard and i made you feel better by telling you that i kind of sort of loved you...?” yoongi mentions casually while inspecting his nail beds, his eyes flickering up towards your face for a quick second to see your reaction

he bites back a smirk of success when he hears you let out a sigh

ha HA

hook, line, and sinker bABY

“okay, fine, but-” you slam the bowl down on the counter before placing your hands on your hips, ”it’s a secret. between us!” you gesture for him to come over to you

“god, finally-!” yoongi nods enthusiastically and hops off the stool before scurrying over to join you at the other side of the counter

you lift your hand up so the side of your mouth is covered and yoongi reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist, grinning excitedly as you whisper something into his ear

…

yoongi’s jaw drops

holy shit

no wonder he hasn’t seen you act like this before!

this isn’t elated y/n or disappointed y/n or excited y/n

a new player has entered the ring

this is HORNY Y/N

“you… little… horndog!” yoongi cackles with glee as he claps his hands together wildly, “you, y/n y/l/n- you had a wet dream?!”

you feel your anxiety spike at how loud yoongi’s being and you make a gesture to try to get him to use his inside voice but he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to you at all right now

“wow...” yoongi laughs lightly, crossing his arms as he looks up towards the ceiling, “i mean, welcome to puberty, i guess. a bit of a late start if you ask me, but either way i’m actually pretty proud of you for basically creaming your-”

“shh!” you quickly shove a spoon into yoongi’s mouth and he spits it out immediately

it falls onto the counter with a clang

to be honest, you actually don’t remember too much of the dream

flashes of namjoon’s head in between your legs and his strong arms wrapped around your thighs pinning you down pop into your mind every now and again to taunt you

but other than that

nothing!

it’s just that joon’s been working out a lot lately (jin’s trying to get in better shape because of one photo where the shadow made it look like he had a double chin and it traumatised him) so it makes sense that he’s turning into an actual beefcake now

the other day you accidentally busted a bag of icing in your hands after squeezing it too hard because you were watching namjoon doing bicep curls with the milk jugs

his arms just….,,.

you want to bite into them

or dig your nails into them

or just look at them!

you would be perfectly content with just staring at them 24/7!

now, the issue here is that you...

you don’t really know…

you don’t know how to initiate things with namjoon

it’s awkward!

…on your end, that is

since getting together, you and namjoon have had plenty of heated make-out (and slight groping) sessions but you always end up chickening out as soon as you feel things starting to escalate

you just get nervous that you’re going to do something wrong and it’ll pop the love-bubble you guys are in right now!!

and you really don’t want to pop anything!!

and namjoon, being the sweet, kind, caring, considerate, wonderful, absolutely flawless boy he is, never has an issue with it because his number one priority is making sure that you’re comfortable

he’s totally okay with moving at your pace!

but after the last couple of times where you’ve left him high and dry, you notice that he either a) puts a pillow over his lap almost immediately and tries to change the subject or b) waddles off to the bathroom for a ‘pee break’

you feel awful knowing that you’re blue-balling him but you don’t want to take things further if there’s even a slight possibility of you ruining things

so... yeah!

your only stress reliever has been baking which isn’t new

you’ve stress baked before but this is a nEW type of stress baking

this is the most chaotic level of stress baking there is because everything’s just a disorganised MESS

“you know what, it actually makes sense now,” yoongi reaches up to stroke his chin in thought before nodding to himself, “you’ve been acting so weird lately that i thought i did something wrong- and it turns out you’ve just been excruciatingly horny this entire time-”

“lower your voice!” you hiss, hurrying over to the door to make sure namjoon’s not listening in to what should be a private conversation if yoongi wasn’t so damn loud

he may be in the living room but who knows how far your voices can travel??

you peek out to look at poor namjoon who looks like he’s just about ready to pass ouT from exhaustion

he lets out an almost animalistic growl as he pushes himself up off the ground one last time and you feel a tingle in your southern region

if you were a cartoon character there would be gigantic hearts pumping out of your eyes, your tongue would roll out of your mouth like a red carpet, and a horn would be blasting aooga in the background

“okay, well - you can’t not tell me about what happened in it.” you turn back around to face yoongi, “give me all the details!!!!” he wiggles his brows as he leans down and folds him arms atop the counter, “and get real nasty with it because i haven’t had sex in months-”

“no way!” you scoff before crossing one arm over the other to make an ‘x’ sign at yoongi, “no! i don’t remember anything.”

“you’re lying to me.” the smile on yoongi’s face drops and he scowls at you, “you totally are!”

“am not! it’s true.” you chirp, nodding satisfactorily when yoongi doesn’t respond

good

the topic has been dropped and now you can focus your attention back on this weird, runny batter you’re still beating the life out of

“...what about if i guess?”

you pause

oh no

you don’t like that idea at all

you don’t get a chance to shake your head nO before yoongi starts listing out all your possible wet-dream scenarios

“he was finger-fucking you.”

“you were sucking him off?”

“he was eating you out!”

“69? you on top? or was it him on top? …no, it was probably you on to-”

“a classy combination of tongue and fingers? ooh, quick question- how quickly did dreamjoon find your g-spo-”

“missionary! can’t go wrong with good ol’ fashioned missio-”

“doggystyle? cowgirl! reverse cowgirl? or was he kind of, like, spooning you from behi-”

“ooh! plot twist! you gave him the strap-”

“butt-stuff! butt-stuff?? butt-stuff but the plug had a tail on- oh-ho, it was butt-stuff, wasn’t it-”

“something with a belt? something with cuffs? something with leather?”

“roleplaying! he was a sexy gardener with a big ol’ hose and you were just an innocent wittle twree-”

“was he rawdogging you?”

your eyes immediately widen and you look up at yoongi for the first time since he started rambling, “wha- WHAT is that?!”

rawdogging??

that sounds like it’d give you carpet burn for some reason

“sex without a condom.” yoongi states as if it’s the most obvious fact in the entire world, “duh.”

god

boys are so

boyish!!!!

“why not just say that instead??” you ask incredulously, tilting your head

yoongi snorts, “well, because rawdogging sounds way hotter-”

your face screws up immediately, “does it really, though…?”

yoongi pauses before his face lights up, “aha! so dreamjoon WAS rawdogging y-”

“crude!” your entire face is bright red at this point and you hurry over to the fridge to grab a bag of frozen blueberries out of the freezer (for what purposes? you have no idea.)

“you think i’m being crude?” yoongi scoffs, “i think you’re being a prude. okay, lemme see what else i can think of-”

“yoongi, literally no one asked you to list-”

“were you grinding on his-” yoongi pauses again, “you know, like dry humping?” he hums before pushing himself up off the counter and placing both his palms flat on the surface of it, “i mean, i guess i can see why that’d be hot, you know, with clothes being restrictive and all- oh! were you getting off on his thigh? because a couple of girls have done that to me before and it was actually pretty hot AND since namjoon’s dna consists of 80% plant he basically has tree trunk thighs-”

“okay, i don’t remember too much-” you grab yoongi by the arm to yank him back in so you can whisper in his ear again

yoongi listens attentively

…

you clear your throat before shoving yoongi away to make it seem less suspicious if namjoon just so happens to come into the kitchen at this very moment

“surprisingly simple, but it does the trick, that’s for sure…” yoongi hums as he strokes his chin thoughtfully, “damn. i hyped it up way too much. that’s actually a pretty boring dream compared to what i’ve dreamt about, now that i think about it-”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you open up the bag of blueberries

…what did you pull these out for again?

“well, what’s the problem?” yoongi frowns, “you guys are already dating. just go up to him and ask him if he wants to do stuff. if a girl told me that she creamed her panties because of me, i’d be ecstatic!”

“stop saying it like that-”

you feel a little weird talking about this with yoongi

he’s always been comfortable telling you about his sex life but you prefer to keep your intimate details private

it’s not that you don’t trust him or anything, because obviously you do, but… you’d feel more comfortable if you talked about this with a girl-friend, you know?

guys just don’t understand!

“i don’t know how to…” you shift in your spot, “ask.”

yoongi scoffs in response and crosses his arms, “y/n- namjoon is a man. men are simple. do you remember the other week when you invited me over for a breakfast and you dropped the spatula on the floor?”

you nod before tilting your head curiously, “…why?”

yoongi clears his throat

now he’S the one who looks slightly uncomfortable

“well...” he clears his throat, “namjoon was wearing sweats and i swear i wasn’t purposely looking- my eyes just happened to be looking downwards in that general direction naturally-”

“yoongi-”

“the man’s dick twitched in his sweats when you bent over, alright?” yoongi blurts out and your eyes immediately widen, “my point is: men are simple- painfully simple creatures. so... just ask him!”

you frown

just ask him??

was he even listening to you??

you just told yoongi you didn’t know how to ask namjoon and his advice was for you to ask namjoon

that’s like taking someone who doesn’t know how to swim and immediately tossing them into the OCEAN with a punctured life-ring

“god,” you roll your eyes before flicking your wrist at him, “just forget i told you!”

“hey!” yoongi gawks and shakes his head, “i can’t forget! now my only purpose in life is to get you some head-”

“jesus christ-!”

you jump ten feet into the air like a cat that’s just been sprayed by water when the kitchen door suddenly swings open and a sweaty namjoon stumbles in

“i think there’s sweat dripping into my contacts-”

“namjoon!” yoongi spins around in his stool and props his elbows up on the counter, “what a coincidence! we were just talking about you, my man…”

yoongi looks over at you with a cheeky grin and you shake your head stiffly before turning to get the jug of water from the fridge for namjoon

“oh yeah?” namjoon huffs as he places his hands on your hips from behind, sliding past you to grab a clean glass from the dish rack, “what about?”

“just about how…” yoongi looks back at you quickly and you shoot him a glare

he wouldn’t…

would he??

(he absolutely would.)

any word of your conversation and you’ll skin him alive

“-hard you’ve been working out lately!” yoongi chirps, “i mean, it looks like you were trapped in a washing machine-”

“oh, god. trust me, it’s so not worth it, i’m in so much pain-” namjoon winces and shakes his head, “you’re welcome to go and take my place if you want-”

“absolutely not-” yoongi snorts, “first of all, it’s the holidays, and everyone knows you don’t work out during december. also, you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to do a push-up. i’m perfectly happy with my somewhat doughy centre.” he pats his tummy with a happy hum and you can’t help but giggle

silly boy

namjoon laughs lightly before pausing to chug down some water, “i wish i could say the same. unfortunately, jin’s not giving me a choice-”

“sweaty!” you whine when namjoon suddenly wraps an arm around you from behind before kissing your cheek and he frowns playfully when you swat at his forearm, “and sticky…”

“relax, i’m about to hit the shower-” he nudges his nose against your cheek before pulling away, “and then i won’t be sticky and i’ll smell like peaches-”

“i should probably go, too.” yoongi gets up from his seat, “i just ordered my dinner and it’s going to arrive at my apartment in like half an hour.”

“wait!” you hold a finger out before turning to open up the cupboards for a tupperware box, “take some pie with you…”

»»————-　☁️　————-««

“still coming friday?” you ask as you watch yoongi put his shoes on

you asked yoongi if he would be interested in helping you decorate the apartment on friday (aka you told him he didn’t have a choice and that he had to come and help you whether he wanted to or not)

“mhm.” he glances up at you, “still ordering pizza?”

“mhm.”

you reach down to pat the top of yoongi’s head gently just because you want to and pauses in the middle of tying his laces to reach over and jab your stomach

“i know the main focus is decorating the place for christmas but i think you guys are going to love the nature documentary i picked for us to watch while-” namjoon chimes in but shuts up quickly when you and yoongi exchange knowing glances, “what?”

yoongi looks back up at you with a raised brow, “…does he really have to join us?”

“no choice.” you shrug casually and namjoon’s jaw drops

wha-

“oh, hold on-” yoongi gets up off the ground before patting his pockets down with a frown, “i think i left my keys in the kitchen… can you go and get them for me?”

you nod before turning to hurry to the kitchen

you don’t want him to get another parking ticket

it’s only after you disappear into the kitchen that yoongi swiftly pulls his keys out of his back pocket with a jingle

namjoon opens his mouth to say something but yoongi quickly holds his hand out to shut him up

“야 남준아- 어제 니 여친이 니 꿈 꿨데~ (y/n had a sex dream about you).” he chirps and gives namjoon two firm pats on his surprisingly firm chest before his eyes widen in surprise, “어우 딴딴해 운동 열심히 했나보네! (woah, you really have been working out! good man.)”

“yeah, i-” namjoon chokes, “wait, wha-”

“y/n, i found my keys! my bad!” yoongi calls out and gives you a thumbs up when you come out of the kitchen, “see you losers on friday!”

he gives namjoon a grin and a light punch to the arm before swiftly turning on his heel

namjoon’s eyes are as wide as saucers as yoongi shuts the front door behind him and he blinks rapidly before turning to look at you

you tilt your head at him curiously and namjoon swallows before offering you a sheepish smile

oh, boy.

»»————-　☁️　————-««

namjoon hasn’t been able to think straight since it was revealed to him that you had a sex dream about him.

it’s been an entire week that he’s learned this new piece of information and it’s been weighing verY heavily on his mind!!

when he wakes up his first thought is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

when seokjin’s rambling about god knows what the only thing in his mind is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

the last thing he thinks about before he goes to bed is gee i wonder what y/n dreamt about

and then his imagination conjures up what could’ve happened in your sex dream which is very dangerous because he has an overly-active imagination

it sucks that he doesn’t even know the details of the dream because stinky yoongi ziPPed off before he got a chance to squeeze the truth out of him!!!

and he hasn’t mustered up the courage to ask you about it because… how is he even supposed to ask you about it in a casual, non-confrontational way?!

he doesn’t want to embarrass you or anything like that!!

the only reason why he’s only slightly nervous about the whole situation because he doesn’t think he… oozes sex appeal?

so it was more than surprising to find out that you had a naughty dream about him

he’s like 90% leg and 10% dimple for crying out loud

and it’s not like he hasn’t done anything before, because he has, but it’s just different because it’s… you.

you’re his girlfriend and if he flubs this up the first time around then it’d be even more embarrassing than if you were just some random girl!

“말해줘여어 (you have to tell me).” namjoon whips around from where he’s standing by the tree, cradling the box of baubles to his chest, “you have to!”

“싫어 (nah).” yoongi shakes his head, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth only for it to bounce off his cheek and onto the couch

he purses his lips before kicking it under the coffee table

it’s fine

the dust bunnies will get rid of it

“말해줘여어! (you have to tell me!)”

“야 안돼 (no way).”

namjoon clenches his jaw and sets the box down onto the floor promptly before balling his hands into fists and setting them on his hips, puffing his chest out

...

“아 왜여어어어~ (why not??)” he whines, deflating and resisting the urge to stamp his foot and throw an actual tantrum

“아니 비밀이라고 했으니까 그렇지! (it’s not my thing to tell! and i can’t betray y/n like that-)” yoongi shrugs as he keeps his eyes glued on the screen, “by the way, you didn’t even choose a cool nature documentary. what are we even watching?? the guy’s been talking about seaweed for the past ten minutes-”

“what do you mean it’s not your thing to tell??” namjoon scoffs, not even paying attention to the fact that yoongi just insulted his favourite nature documentary about plants in the ocean, “형이 먼저 말 꺼냈잖아! (you were the one who told me that she dreamt about me in the first place-!)” he snaps

“잠깐만 (wait, wait-)” yoongi sits up quickly, a couple kernels of popcorn rolling off his chest and falling onto his lap, “일주일이 지났는데 아무것도 안 했단 말이야?? (are you telling me that you… it’s been a whole week and you haven’t done anything about it??)”

namjoon shrinks down before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “노 코멘트 (…no comment.)”

“킄 정말로? (really? wow.)” yoongi snorts before shaking his head and leaning back against the couch, “both of you- i mean, both of you deserve each other, seriously-”

namjoon resists the urge to flop down on the couch dramatically, “아니 뭐라고 말하는 거예요 (well, i’m sorry, what am i even supposed to say-)”

“아우 그러지좀마 걍- (you don’t have to say anything, all you have to do is-)”

“yoongi!” namjoon and yoongi look over when you stick your head out around the kitchen door, “cream cheese or vanilla?”

“vanilla, duh.” yoongi raises a brow

you should know by this point that he prefers vanilla frosting over cream cheese!

halfway through the documentary you decided that you were going to make a carrot cake

(and yes, part of the reason why you made that decision was because you were bored of the documentary and wanted to do literally anything else, but you’ll never admit that to namjoon in case it breaks his heart)

namjoon stays quiet until after you disappear into the kitchen again and then he turns to face yoongi with both of his hands clasped together, “말해줘요오! (you have to tell me, c’mon!)”

“말해주면 제발 다른 거 보면 안 될까? (if i tell you, can we watch something else?)”

namjoon scowls

“아 됐어요 도와줄 거라도 있는지 확인 해볼게요- (fine, forget it. i’m gonna go see if y/n needs any help.)” he steps over the boxes of decorations on the ground before turning to look back at yoongi, “부엌에서 필요한 거 있어요? (you need anything?)”

“아니 (nah.)” yoongi responds before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, “oh! actually, see if y/n would be willing to make little carrot cupcakes instead of a whole carrot cake. holding a tiny little cupcake in my hand makes me feel like a giant.”

»»————-　☁️　————-««

“knock, knock…” namjoon knocks on the kitchen door quietly before pushing it open, “everything going okay in here?”

he smiles when you look up from the bowl and beam at him, “hi!”

“hi-” he comes in and shuts the door behind him, “you need any help?”

“help? from you?” you giggle lightly and shake your head, “i’m good.”

ever since he accidentally poured salt into your batter that one time he hasn’t been allowed to help you

:-//

“yoongi changed his mind, by the way.” namjoon gestures back to the direction of the living room, “king min would like cupcakes now.”

your shoulders immediately droop and you gesture to the already greased cake-pans sitting on the side

what a waste!

“hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” namjoon raises both his hands in defence before shrugging, “the man wants what he wants.”

you resist the urge to go out there just to throw the cake pans at yoongi

you’re definitely going to force him to wash everything for you later

“also... you’re just doing this to get out of watching the nature doc, aren’t you?” namjoon wraps both his arms around you from behind and leans down to prop his chin up on your shoulder

you could’ve helped with the decorating, but somehow everything looks better when namjoon does it

he hung a big red bow on your front door and it looks great!

you pause in the middle of shredding carrots before letting out a nervous chuckle, “whaaat? no...”

“it’s about the types of plants in the ocean!” namjoon points out, “is that not cool?? plants are cool.”

you shake your head no almost immediately

not cool

two and a half hours of someone talking about grass that lives in salty water?

not cool at aLL

“how’s the decorating going?” you ask, giggling lightly when namjoon nudges his nose under your jaw before planting a kiss against your neck

“it’s going fine… yoongi isn’t helping, obviously. i handed him one bauble to hang and he hooked it on the collar of his hoodie and told me he’d do it later.”

“mm.”

a brief moment passes where the only sound that can be heard is the carrot you’re shredding against the grater

namjoon purses his lips as he thinks about what yoongi just said to him

...

fuck it

“hey, can i ask you something?” namjoon sighs, smiling in delight when you suddenly turn your head to press a sweet little kiss into his cheek

“mhm!” you turn back, continuing to grate away

“it’s not a big deal or anything, but, uh... when were you planning on telling me about that nice little dream you had two weeks ago?” namjoon asks cockily, biting back a grin when he feels you freeze in his arms

it’s at this moment that the fact that you had a wet dream about him has finally sunk into the depths of his brain and now he’s actually feeling... really good about it

you had a sex dream about him

what’s not to love?

he can almost hear the alarms wailing in your head

and now that he’s got the ball rolling- he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be!

as a matter of fact... this could be fun.

“w-” you clear your throat quietly and the half-shredded carrot drops into the metal bowl with a muted plunk, “i- what dream? i didn’t have a dream about you.”

he knows you’re trying to play it cool but he can see how tightly you’re gripping the grater and he can feel your ears getting hotter against his cheek

“i never said the dream was about me.”

oh, shit

you messed up

“so...?” namjoon moves your hair to the other side before leaning in to plant a warm kiss under your jaw, “this dream that you had… about me. tell me what happened in it.”

you swallow thickly, the gears working overtime in your brain as you try to come up with some kind of an excuse to get yourself out of this situation

you know that now isn’t the most appropriate moment to be thinking about this but you’re 100% going to slaughter yoongi the moment you get a chance to

the secret ingredient to make these cupcakes taste good will not be love

it will be BLEACH

you can’t believe he ratted you out like that!!

how embarrassing!!

“you were-” you cough, “um, you were… you… we…”

oh boy

this is already a train wreck

this is exactly why you didn’t want to tell namjoon about it!

because you know yourself and you knEW you were going to get all flustered and twitchy bringing it up

“well, i was-” you pause, “i was sitting on- sitting on the counter-”

“this one right here?” namjoon’s hand leaves your waist to pat the surface of the counter lightly and you nod gingerly, staring down at his obscenely pretty fingers, “what else?”

“that was it.” you blurt out, “the end!”

namjoon steps back a little and spins you around quickly before pressing you up against the counter, “what else, y/n?”

he traps you in between his arms and you fight the urge to explode into a million bits

oh god

okay

just tell him!

just SAY it

it’s time to get it over with!!

“you were…” your eyes flicker downwards and your nose scrunches slightly

you really don’t want to say it but you don’t think you can back out at this point because you’ve already said too much

“…eating me out.” you force out before averting your gaze and looking off to the side

you really wish there was a better way to say that because the phrase eating me out just sounds so… in your face, you know?

namjoon swallows thickly

so you had a dream about him eating you out?

“y/n, there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about, i promise-” namjoon laughs lightly when he notices your entire face starting to go red

you let out a particularly pathetic whine before leaning your forehead against his chest and gently shoving at his (firm) abdomen

“what’s the problem?” he asks, rubbing comforting circles into your back, “i think about you, you know.”

“you’re just saying that…” you mumble, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “you’re lying...”

“no, i’m serious!” namjoon pulls away to look at you, “i… i think about you. i think about things.”

you blink twice

he thinks about you

he thinks about things

he thinks about you?

he thinks about things??

…what kind of things does he think about?

“y-you do?”

“of course i do.”

“oh.”

a moment of silence ticks by

“i think about a lot of things, y/n.”

“like what?” you look up at him, the corner of namjoon’s pretty mouth curling upwards

“you really wanna know?”

“yes.” you respond a little too quickly before clearing your throat quietly, “…please.”

“hm.” he smiles, “as polite as always-”

you gasp in surprise when namjoon suddenly lifts you up and plops you down on the countertop in one swift movement and your stomach flutters at how effortlessly he just did that

wowie

he places both hands flat on the surface on either side of you before looking up at you with his head tilted slightly

you keep your hands folded in your lap, nervously picking at the worn edges of the sweatshirt you’re wearing (it’s namjoon’s coffee-coloured sweatshirt that you ‘borrowed’ from him)

“mostly about fucking you into the headboard.” namjoon confesses, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth when he notices the way your eyes flicker

you definitely seemed to like that idea

“i think about your fingers pulling at my hair when i have my face in between your legs...” he hums, trailing a finger up from your kneecap to your thigh, “i think about how pretty you’d look bent over the counter for me. i think about the sounds you’d make, how soft your moans and gasps would be… i especially like thinking about you moaning my name. i think about you riding me wearing nothing but that cute little apron of yours - you know, the one with the little honeybees on them?”

“apron’s in the.. in the washing machine.” your breathing’s become a bit more shallow and you haven’t blinked in nearly a minute so it’s safe to say that he has your attention

“you know… i think you know what you do to me when you walk around wearing nothing but one of my sweatshirts and a pair of panties, or when you come out of the shower wrapped in a little towel because you ‘forgot’ your clothes in the bedroom…” namjoon murmurs lowly, “and don’t think i don’t notice the way you look at me whenever you suck frosting off your fingers.”

“frosting?” you whisper, namjoon nodding as his eyes flicker down to your lips briefly

your tongue pokes out to swipe over your bottom lip for a split second

“that’s right.” the metal bowl scrapes against the counter as namjoon drags it over and you jump in surprise at the feeling of the chilled metal bumping up against your bare thigh

“you think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” namjoon chuckles lowly, lifting the spatula up before swiping some frosting off of it with the side of his thumb, “you think i don’t know what you’re up to?”

“i don’t…” you trail off, going cross-eyed when namjoon’s hand comes closer only for his pointer finger to tap at your bottom lip

“you do. open.”

you’re just a little thrown off because namjoon’s never... you’ve never seen him like this before

he’s never spoken to you like this before

he’s never looked at you like this before

you’re certainly not complaining, of course

“you taunt me because you like to-” you can’t seem to break away from namjoon’s gaze, the side of his pointer finger hooking underneath your chin as he pushes his thumb into your mouth, “i know you do it on purpose.”

almost immediately, the taste of sweet vanilla frosting washes over your palette

“you want me to think about you, don’t you?” namjoon swallows a groan when you start sucking, your cheeks hollowing slightly as your tongue swirls around his thumb to make sure no frosting gets left behind, “you like the thought of that? like leaving me high and dry because it forces me to use my own imagination?”

(admittedly, yes. a little part of you likes the thought of you completely consuming every corner of namjoon’s mind... just a little part, though.)

you nod slowly in response with glazed over eyes and namjoon clenches his jaw

fuck

he flattens his thumb down on your tongue to get you to open your mouth a little more for him and hums contently when you do so obediently

a thin line of spit stretches from your tongue to namjoon’s slick thumb as he pulls his hand away and you don’t even get a chance to register whatever that moment was before he’s leaning forward to slant his mouth over yours

namjoon kisses you purposefully, pulling you closer to him as you fist at his shirt tightly

he savours the faint sweetness of the frosting left behind on your tongue and can’t help but smile when he hears you whimper

“can i tell you something?” namjoon pulls away only to start sponging kisses to your neck and you tilt your head to the side for him

“uh-huh, y-yeah-” you nod quickly, slinging an arm around his neck to keep him close while the other hand grips at his shoulder

your eyes roll to the back of your head for a split second and you can’t help but quietly mouth an ‘oh my god’ to yourself because you never knew it could feel this good to have your neck kissed

“i think it’s hot as fuck that you had a wet dream about me,” namjoon groans lowly and you immediately feel a zing! of electricity travel straight down south from the sound of him speaking to you in such a deep, gravelly voice, “and you definitely don’t have to be shy about asking me to touch you… because i’m very willing to do so.”

“i want you to- w-want you to touch me-” you stutter, feeling your cheeks warm from hearing those words come out of your mouth, “want it so bad-”

your eyes pop open when namjoon suddenly pulls away and you frown, instantly missing the feeling of him being pressed up so tightly against you

“lift your hips-” namjoon pushes the bowl of frosting to the side before tapping two fingers on your upper thigh, “-up off the counter.”

your brows knit together in confusion

why would you-

your eyes widen in realisation when it dawns on you what exactly is happening here

“w-what-” you glance at the (for the most part, closed) kitchen door frantically before looking down at joon, “but yoongi’s in the-” you turn back and jump in surprise when you see that namjoon’s face is right in front of yours

you’re practically nose to nose with him

“i know.” namjoon leans in to give you a quick peck before pulling away with a particularly smug grin, “so you’re just going to have to stay quiet for me then, aren’t you?”

you WHAT

“why don’t we get these off, hm?” namjoon hooks a finger into the waistband of your shorts and gives it a gentle tug

you look at the door once again and then back at namjoon, who offers you an innocent little smile as if he didn’t just suggest going down on you on the kitchen counter with your friend in the room next door

okay

think about this!

think about this with your logical brain and not your bonk horny brain

would you rather see your very hot boyfriend’s face in between your legs or would you rather send him away so you can continue making a cake for your very picky friend?

…

you plant both palms on the counter before raising your hips a little, namjoon grinning in victory before yanking your shorts down in one go

if you would’ve known this was going to happen today you definitely would’ve worn a sexier pair of panties

white cotton is boring!!!

also you know this is the wrong time to be thinking this but you’re wondering if it would be possible to rope yoongi into a shopping spree at victoria’s secret next week because you’re going to need better looking panties if namjoon’s going to keep springing these spontaneous sessions on you

“cute.” namjoon hums, poking at the little blue bow that sits at the centre of the waistband

your breathing stills as he slowly lowers himself to his knees in front of you and you feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest at the sight alone

“soaked right through…” namjoon observes quietly, turning his head to press a kiss to the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh, “i’ve barely touched you, baby.”

you jolt in surprise when he runs his thumb slowly up your slit through the thinned fabric of your panties, though he stops right as he’s about to reach your clit

so close yet so, so painfully far

you nudge him with your foot, “you’re teasing.” you swallow thickly, namjoon offering you a boyish grin as he tilts his head, pushing his bottom lip out in a mocking pout

“aw… am i?” he coos, and you shiver when he leans in to press a kiss over your clothed clit, “i’m sorry, darling… that must be so hard for you…”

“and you’re being mean.” you murmur, namjoon chuckling to himself as he pulls your panties down your legs

“am not.”

“are too.”

“am not.” namjoon perks a brow, pushing your thighs apart gently, “take it back.”

“no wa-!” your back immediately straightens as if a jolt of electricity just shot straight up your spine at the first feeling of namjoon licking one long stripe up your centre, and you fight back the urge to snap your legs shut

that’s.,., new!

very new

very new feeling

you’re certainly not against it and it’s not a bad feeling

it’s just…

new

“good?” your breath wavers when namjoon hums against you, your eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue slowly pressing in deep, “hm?”

namjoon slips his tongue in between your folds before sliding it flat and straight up to your swollen clit, grinning to himself when you finally give in to pleasure and lie back on the counter

you whimper, rolling your hips down towards his mouth as he drags his tongue over your slit in repetitive strokes before flicking his tongue over the top of your clit

it’s too much and not enough at the same time, your legs instinctively starting to squeeze shut around him

“nuh-uh, baby…” you find that you can barely move, namjoon’s fingers digging into your thigh as a warning as he keeps your legs open, “keep them spread for me.”

namjoon watches your reaction intensely, finding pleasure in the way that your chest rises and falls quickly and in the way you twitch every now and again

from here, he can see the way your brows furrow and the way you bite and tug at your bottom lip in a poor effort to keep yourself quiet

“you can use your words like a good girl, can’t you?” namjoon teases, two fingers rolling tight little circles into your clit as he watches you, barely blinking, “tell me how good it feels…”

“good- ungh, feels good-” you whimper, hips bucking up against his fingers desperately

namjoon looks down to see you practically dripping onto the counter

jesus

he would’ve done this a lot sooner had he known you’d be acting like this from his touch

“fuck me,” namjoon groans suddenly, and all of a sudden it seems like everything’s moving ten times faster than before, “you look so fucking hot right now-”, he wraps his strong arms underneath both your thighs before yanking you closer to him, practically burying his entire face in between your legs

your right leg gets hitched up over his shoulder and you quickly sit back up, digging your fingers into the soft strands of namjoon’s hair as his tongue laves back and forth against your folds

your back arches and you tilt your head up towards the ceiling, namjoon instinctively pushing his clothed crotch against the bottom part of the counter for some kind of relief

he’s so painfully hard from just hearing you hold back moans and watching you squirm and twitch

you remind yourself to loosen your grip on namjoon’s hair because you’re worried that you might accidentally rip some strands out and leave him with a bald patch, but namjoon obviously doesn’t seem to mind as he doubles his efforts and starts to lick and and suck with tremendous fervour

“fuck, you taste good-” he curses, his right hand sliding underneath your sweatshirt to cup your bare breast before he pinches and rolls your nipple in between his fingers

he drags his tongue down to circle around your tight hole and you jerk immediately, “oh my god-” you pant, overwhelmed by all the different feelings your body is experiencing at this moment, “that feels so-”

your bum is teetering on the edge of the counter at this point because namjoon’s basically pulled you off of it and you reach down to grip at the edges so you don’t fall off

“gonna cum?” namjoon murmurs, eyes locking on your face almost immediately as he feels you starting to squirm underneath him

he really wants to watch you cum

“j-joonie, god, don’t stop-” the arm wrapped around your waist tightens around you and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues his torturous onslaught of pleasure, “i-i- nngh- namjoon-!”

“i’ve got you, baby… you can cum…” namjoon feels himself twitch in his sweats upon hearing you moan his name like that

the thought of gagging you with your own panties to mute your moans briefly flits through his mind but... he wants to hear you moaning his name over and over and over again

he wants to make you scream for him

when it happens, you practically bite your bottom lip off trying not to cry out in ecstasy

namjoon has to hold your trembling thighs open to keep them from snapping his head right off

your hips buck lazily as you quiver around namjoon’s hot tongue, your body glistening in a sheen layer of sweat as you bask in the slow, rolling waves of ecstasy

you lie back down against the counter, chest heaving beneath your sweater as you stare dazedly up at the ceiling

oh, wow

you watch as the ceiling fan whirrs around and around and around

you feel like you’re not physically here right now

like your soul left your body and you’re just floating in the air like a bunch of particles

“-!” you twitch when namjoon carefully wipes you off with your panties before setting them onto the counter next to you

you slowly prop yourself up onto your elbows so you can look at him, feeling your cheeks flush when you see that he’s looking right at you

you’re not sure why you’ve gone all shy again as if his tongue wasn’t licking you out ten seconds ago

“hi, pretty girl...” he smiles, his dimple popping up in his right cheek, “welcome back.” he jokes, rising to his feet while keeping your right leg propped up onto his shoulder

he turns to give your ankle a kiss before gently bringing your leg down and helping you sit up

“that was really something...” you wrap your arms loosely around his neck as he grasps your hips before leaning down to give you a sweet little kiss

“oh yeah? did i live up to dreamjoon?” namjoon teases, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before pinching the apple of your cheek

“you did a much better job than dreamjoon.” you hum, and it’s only then that you’re aware of the very prominent bulge pressing into your centre, “but i... i wanna make you feel good, too…” you murmur, namjoon biting back a groan when you nudge your bare centre against him, a darkened splotch now staining the front of his sweatpants “and…” you lean upwards to whisper something into namjoon’s ear

...

holy shit

yes please

“yeah, shit, we can definitely do that-” namjoon hates to admit to how horny he is but he can’t help it when you go around saying stuff like that to him, “we-” he pauses suddenly, eyes going wide in panic, “oh, shit!”

“wh- what??” you look around the kitchen frantically before grabbing the closest thing to you as a form of defence (a silicone whisk)

“friggin’ yoongi-!” namjoon hisses in pain as he adjusts himself in his sweatpants, “i forgot about yoongi-”

okay

a little weird of him to be thinking about yoongi while he’s touching his-

“oh my god, yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hopping off the counter with wobbly legs

namjoon hands you your shorts and you quickly wiggle into them before pulling your sweatshirt down

you completely forgot that yoongi was in the room right next to you guys and that last moan of yours wasn’t exactly quiet

and you know that yoongi might not have a lot of knowledge when it comes to baking, but you’re sure that he knows enough to know that practically screaming namjoon’s name out loud isn’t a key step in achieving a fluffy cake batter

“we weren’t doing anything!”

the two of you stumble out into the living room and you file through your brain to come up with some kind of a logical excuse as to why you’re hot and sweaty and why namjoon’s hiding his lower half behind a kitchen towel and how in the world those two facts are related to his precious carrot cake cupcakes

you pause when you notice that yoongi’s nowhere to be found

the documentary’s still playing on the TV, the boxes of tinsel and baubles have been completely abandoned, and there’s nothing but a blue sticky note sitting on the couch

taking a nap in my car. text me when you guys are done being horny. also - you’re welcome.

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

958 notes · View notes

brockadoodles · 3 years

Text

Take my Heart, I’ll Give you my Soul - b. boeser

AN: Alright, here it is. Without a doubt my favorite and most popular fic. It will probably flop and my heart will shatter since this is a repost but y’all said you wanted it so here ya goooooo.

Word Count: 24,717

Warnings: Drinking, angst, mentions of sex, and that it’s a long one.

It might have been dramatic, but you couldn’t possibly imagine that you had ever had a day as exhausting as this. It was your senior year of university, and one of your seminars was an 8am. Normally this wasn’t an issue, you generally enjoyed mornings, especially in your new apartment. Ever since moving in six months ago, you found yourself waking up early to enjoy the sunrise over the city, sipping your morning coffee on your balcony as you watched the city come to life. Lights slowly turn on, pinks, and orange hues lighting up the sky as the sun rises. You found it calming, taking extra care to slow your breathing down and relax, the cool air running through your hair.

This particular morning, however, had gone entirely wrong. You must have forgotten to plug your phone in the night before, waking up slowly around 7:30, which gave you nowhere near enough time to shower, get dressed, and commute from the city to campus.

You rushed through your morning routine, simply brushing your teeth, throwing up your hair, and a simple combination of a sweatshirt and leggings to get you through the day. You were the type of person who hated being late, to you, if you weren’t at least ten minutes early to something, you got a sense of uneasiness in your stomach. You tried to brush the feeling off, reassuring yourself that your professor didn’t care and that you were still attending the seminar rather than skipping like most students probably would have.

You rushed out the door, locking it swiftly and throwing your bag over your shoulder, walking quickly toward the elevators of your building. You tapped your foot impatiently as you watched the numbers on top of the doors count upward to yours. When the doors opened, you saw Brock standing there, a deep blue Canucks sweatshirt on him, dark grey sweats covering his legs. You stepped aside, allowing him and his dog, Coolie, to walk out of the doors. You had only met Brock a few times, being as he was your across the hall neighbor and you hadn’t seen him until one morning in August, him introducing himself to you in the elevator. You had spoken a few times in passing, never more than a quick hello as one of you was coming or going, but he always offered a friendly smile.

Today he looked different, a frown on his features while he exited. He was clearly stuck in his own head over something, thoughts mulling around. If it weren’t for Coolie rushing to your legs, he probably wouldn’t have even noticed you standing there.

“Good morning, Coolie.” You leaned down to pet the dog, scratching softly behind his ears while he wagged his tail. Brock smiled over at you, mumbling a quick hello before you parted ways for the day. You barely knew him, but something felt unsettling about the way he looked at you. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and it seemed more than just the fact that it was early morning.

The day progressed and things quickly escalated from minor inconveniences to flat out annoyance. Class passed by painfully slowly, and your shift at work dragged on, with your boss coming hard on you for something you didn’t feel at fault for. By the time you got back to your apartment, you had three new assignments due, and a new deadline for a project at work. Your head was pounding from the stress, and you pulled your hair up into a loose bun and settled into your glass of red wine, a pair of old red fuzzy socks adorning your feet. You combed through the cupboards, wine glass in hand as you pulled out ingredients for cookies with your other hand, knowing that baking might help take your mind off of things and that the smell of freshly baked cookies would remind you of home.

You had always been a stress baker, finding something relaxing about the meticulous craft that was baking, comfort coming from strict measurements, and the feeling of control as you worked through various recipes. It had gotten you through many rough patches in life, and earned you a ton of friends more than willing and enthusiastic to consume all of the treats you baked.

When you moved to Vancouver, you lost that luxury, and you hadn’t really felt stressed enough to whip out the supplies since moving in six months ago. But with that day being so long and exhausting, you found yourself missing home more than you usually did, and as you had for many years, you turned toward baking to get you through the homesickness.

You turned on some music, letting it play softly as you started mixing your dough. You danced around in your kitchen feeling the tension release from your body and your head start to clear as you loaded up a plate of chocolate chip cookies, exiting your apartment and heading to the one across the hall before you could consciously realize what you were doing. You could blame it on the glass of wine, but if you were to dig deep into the archives of your mind, you knew it was because there was a nagging feeling about Brock nestled there all day. A single thread tying you to this boy you barely knew, wanting to make his day just a bit better.

You raised your fist to the door, knocking softly while balancing the plate of cookies in your other hand. You instantly regretted what you were doing as soon as you removed your knuckles from his door and heard Coolie’s feet scrambling around inside the apartment. You held the plate nervously, the few leftover chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven. You knew you looked like a mess, your hair was sloppily thrown up on your head and your makeup had long since been removed. The dark leggings you wore were stained with flour, from you accidentally wiping your hands on them while mixing your dough. You told yourself that it didn’t matter, you and Brock were friendly enough, and with the look on his face that morning not leaving your mind for most of the day, you wondered if maybe your neighbor needed some sort of pick me up of his own.

“Hello.” You were met with a voice you didn’t recognize. You looked up at the young man standing in the doorway, Coolie trying to rush out of the door once he saw it was you standing there. You made eye contact with him, noting that he was tall, and blonde, like Brock. He was wearing a Canucks sweatshirt, similar to the ones you had seen Brock in many times, so you could only assume he might be a teammate or someone else who works in the organization.

“Petey, who is it?” You heard Brock’s unmistakable voice, muffled from the walls. The boy in front of you smirked, looking down at the cookies in your hand, and your cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

“Uhm, is Brock here?” You asked tentatively, sneaking a glance past the blonde-haired stranger in front of you.

“It is a girl with cookies.” He called back, voice calm and monotone. You weren’t sure what to make of him, he wasn’t not being nice, but he was quieter than Brock. And now, with it arguably too late to turn back, you were beginning to feel regret creep up inside you about going over there in the first place.

The door flew open after your short interaction with the other blond, revealing Brock. Coolie immediately rushed out, tail wagging as he whined for your attention and sniffed your legs. Brock smiled at you, a more genuine smile than you had seen from him this morning, and it instantly melted all of your nerves as he motioned for you to come inside the apartment.

“God, I don’t deserve you.” He groaned, reaching down to the plate of freshly baked cookies you just set on his counter. You saw another young boy sitting on the couch, dark brown hair, and dark circles under his eyes. He looked a little awkward and was staring blankly at the basketball highlights playing on Brock’s TV. You suddenly felt embarrassed, you had no idea who these friends of Brock’s were, and here you stood, hair a mess, covered in flour, bringing your neighbor who you barely knew cookies in the late evening.

Brock either noticed you tense up, or was just genuinely polite enough to speak up after he swallowed the last bite of the cookie.

“Ah, this is Petey.” He properly introduced the blonde who answered the door, clapping a hand quickly to his shoulder before throwing it back to point at the other boy on the couch.

“And that little dead kid is Quinn.” He smiled. Quinn looked over at you, smiling softly and nodding his head before resuming watching the television, not even reacting to Brock borderline insulting him. Brock eyed you curiously as you reached down to pet Coolie who was pawing at your leg for attention, a fond look on his face. Petey eyed you suspiciously, watching as his best friend looked over at you. He assumed this was the pretty neighbor he always talked about, who he never actually had the nerve to hang out with on his own.

You could see Petey mulling over the interaction, almost as if you were watching him analyze the situation, causing you to feel exposed there in Brock’s kitchen. You swallowed, just about ready to gather your excuses and head back home before Brock spoke up.

“So, what brings you over at 11:30 with freshly baked cookies? Seems a bit late for baking.” He teased, chuckling lightly as you stood back up, wiping your hands on your already dirty leggings. You felt your cheeks heat up with his eyes on you, you were a bit embarrassed, having intruded on what appeared to be their guys' night.

“Just had a long day and baking helps me unwind. I made too many and don’t know anyone else so…” Your voice got softer as you spoke, unsure of what else to say. You brushed a strand of hair away from your face, watching carefully as Petey went and sat next to Quinn, the two of them whispering a bit as you stood in the kitchen still with Brock. Brock leaned across the counter a bit in front of you, resting his chin in his hands while he studied your face. The next words out of his mouth smooth.

“Want to grab coffee tomorrow morning and talk about it?” He asked. Your eyes widened a bit, this was your neighbor, who sure, you were friendly with and was ridiculously cute, but coffee? Was it a date? Was it the beginning of a friendship? You weren’t sure. You glanced over to the couch, the other two boys now with their full attention on you, making you nervous once more. You swallowed one again, clearing your throat quietly as you answered.

“Sure.”

“Cool. There’s this really old place a block from here, they have the best latte art.” He smiled once more, grabbing another piece of a cookie and popping it into his mouth.

“Latte art?” You questioned, finding it oddly charming that this tall, broad guy would be interested in something as trivial as that. But you didn’t know anything about Brock yet, and you couldn’t help but smile a little bit at how adorable it was.

“Very cool, one time they tried to do a portrait of me.” He nodded.

“It was ugly.” Petey jumped in, smirking at his friend for finally making the move at getting to know the cute neighbor he had to suffer through Brock always talking about. Brock laughed, a genuine full laugh where his hand rested on his stomach and his eyes crinkled and you instantly felt yourself growing captivated by him. He had the best laugh and it made you feel warm, something that no one else had ever been able to do for you.

“9?” He ignored his friend, instead focussing his attention only on you. You nodded before saying goodnight to everyone. You walked back into your apartment, hopping in the shower and working through your evening routine, mentally preparing to keep yourself up all night in anticipation of this coffee date with the cute boy across the hall.

The next morning you found yourself irrationally anxious, silently cursing yourself for agreeing to coffee with Brock. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, you liked Brock, maybe had a bit of a crush on him, but that was exactly the problem. You had no idea why someone as cute and successful as that wanted anything to do with you. You were just a normal person, finishing up your undergrad at the University of British Columbia, hopefully entering the world after with some sort of better job than you already had that would allow you to stay in the city. Brock probably had way better options than you on his horizon, given that he was, from what you gathered, a successful professional athlete.

The fears melted away when Brock knocked on your door the next morning, a smile on his face and dark beanie covering his hair. You felt more comfortable around him than you expected so early on in what would eventually become a close friendship, following his lead as you entered the elevator together. Conversation flowing easily between you as you walked the short distance to the coffee shop he had been so excited about from the night before.

It didn’t feel like he was a stranger, and you found yourself wanting to share more with him than you normally would with someone who was just an acquaintance from across the hall. You also noticed how attractive he was, feeling yourself blush more than once as he intently listened to you tell him about your school and work.

You reached the shop, looking up at the old wooden building, a stark contrast from some of the more modern structures lining the streets. It felt homey, a warm-toned feeling emulating from the outside, spreading to the inside as Brock held the door open for you, motioning you inside. You looked around at the shop, seemingly empty for that early in the morning, just a few other patrons scattered throughout. Brock followed you up to the counter, saying hello to the barista who seemed to recognize him.

“Hey Brock, the usual?” She asked, her hand reaching for a cup to write his order down. You noticed how friendly he seemed toward everyone, nodding to the other barista who was across the shop, wiping down tables, a quality that you found yourself attracted to.

“Yeah, but for here.” He smiled, looking toward you. You felt your cheeks flush, carefully saying you’d take whatever he was having, feeling slightly embarrassed. The barista nodded, grabbing another mug with a smile on her face as she looked from you to Brock and you tried not to think about if you were the first girl that he had brought here as he handed over some cash to pay for the drinks.

You settled into a table near the back of the coffee shop, talking endlessly about anything and everything together. Brock was a presence that you didn’t know how you lived with just in passing for the last few months, now that you were seeing what he was showing you. The strange thing about it was how natural it felt, a connection between you that you couldn't explain.

You watched Brock curiously as he was speaking, finding yourself slowly memorizing each feature of him as if you were painting a picture in your mind for safekeeping. You felt drawn to the way his eyes closed as he smiled, and the way his hand rested on his stomach when he laughed. He was distracting, in the most endearing sense of the word. You sat there in that coffee shop, listening to him for almost two hours that morning, a fluttering in your stomach and heart that you were cautious about.

When Brock walked you to your door that was just across from his, there was an easy smile on his features as the conversation dwindled down. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stood close to you, your hand fumbling in your bag for your keys, his eyes softly on you.

“Since we’re now friends.” He started, a small smirk present as the two of you stood in front of your door.

“Can I have your number so we can do this again sometime?” He added, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, coming in close to your body. He smelled like cinnamon and cloves, the warm smile still present on his face as he watched you, carefully gauging your reaction to his seemingly weighted question. You had to concentrate on not fumbling while you exchanged phones, entering your phone number into his.

When he handed you your phone back, you laughed softly at his contact entry, the little whale emoji and blue heart next to his name, feeling yourself flush at your cute neighbor who you just had what some would assume was a great first date with. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest as the texts started coming in, communication between you becoming a new constant in your life, friendship coming together seamlessly as it was meant to be.

The only downside was that as you started getting closer to Brock, the more it became painfully obvious your crush was unrequited. But that was okay with you because having Brock as a friend in the city was something you were grateful for, and if it meant you had to pack up your seemingly silly crush into a box, sealed and locked away in the depths of your heart, you would, because having him was as a friend was better than not having him at all.

Brock, however, knew he liked you from the first time you showed up to his condo, your red fuzzy socks on your feet, flour across your legs, and cookies in your hands. He had seen you many times before, in passing when one of you was leaving or coming back, but when you knocked on his door that late November night, he knew you were someone that he wanted to get to know better.

---------

December came and you and Brock had quickly gotten close, any awkwardness that you usually experience with a new friend as you get to know them had already melted away. You found yourself at his condo more often than your own on days and nights that he wasn’t out of town. He had even gotten you to go to one of their home games, surprising you with a jersey beforehand and laughing when it wasn’t even one of his.

“Brock last I checked, your last name is not Pettersson.” You ran your hands over the stitching, and you tried not to let your quickly beating heart question why he wouldn’t want you to have one of his.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to grab one but I knew I had this. Don’t worry, next game it’ll say Boeser.” You nodded at his words, pushing down any anxieties you had as you folded the jersey and set it down, making a mental note to not forget it as you left.

“Okay, let me cook you, useless boy.” You joked, shooting him out of his own kitchen while you started washing the vegetables and preparing dinner.

You and Brock had developed somewhat of a routine the last few weeks, with at least two dinners a week together when his schedule would allow it. It was nice at first until Brock absolutely wrecked a simple meal and you realized you’d either be eating takeout or cooking yourself each time. You didn’t mind though, because you liked being there with him, a lazy smile on his face as he tried to help you with whatever you were making, usually sneaking in bites of the food while he thought that you weren’t looking.

“So let me get this straight, you need me, to go on a double date with you and some girl Quinn wants to impress? Why?” You laughed.

“He really likes this girl, and you know how huggy is, he’s awkward.” Brock smiled, knowing that you had a soft spot for the little Canuck of the team. He reached over with his fork, grabbing a quick bite of your roasted vegetables from your plate, humming as he plopped them into his mouth. You swatted his hand away from your plate, rolling your eyes as he overly exaggerated how good the roasted veggies were while he chewed.

“Please? He’s taking her mini-golfing, clearly, he needs help!” He laughed once more, thinking about how nervous his teammate had been over this date, practically begging him to come along. “Plus, I can’t just third wheel it.” Brock added.

You rolled your eyes, softening a bit at the idea of helping Quinn. Brock watched you as you pondered over the idea, knowing that you would probably say yes. You knew he wasn’t seeing anyone, so it wasn’t as if there was an option for him to bring a date.

“Fine, on one condition.” You said, pointing toward Brock with your wine glass in hand.

“I win put put, and you’re taking me out to that fancy new brunch place downtown.” Brock smiled at your words, relieved that you said yes. He raised his beer to your wine glass, clanking them together softly as he grinned at you, cheeks slightly pink.

“Done deal. You know if you wanted me to take you on a fancy brunch date, all you had to do was ask.” He teased. Your own cheeks now rivaled his, your crush on your best friend bubbling to the surface. Brock winked at you as you shifted in your seat, gulping back the last of your wine while shifting your eyes away from him. You needed to compose yourself, Brock was just joking around, he wouldn’t actually be taking you on a date and you needed to keep telling yourself that to push the lingering feelings away.

“Don’t push it Boeser.” You smirked, gathering your plate and heading into your kitchen, leaving him at the table while you started packing up the leftovers from the dinner you cooked for the two of you.

A few nights later you found a nervous Quinn in the elevator as you were heading back home to get ready for this date. He was wearing some nice jeans and a simple sweater, with a dark jacket over it, cleaning up nicely. His eyes looked nervous but it looked like he had slept, a good sign you thought. He had a small bouquet of roses in his hands, debatably too much for a low key first date, but you shrugged it off, thinking that this girl would probably appreciate the effort.

“Quinn, what made you think it was a good idea to take a girl on a date outside in December?” You said, ruffling his hair quickly as you walked down the hallway toward Brock’s door.

“I didn’t really think about it..” he trailed off, avoiding eye contact. You touched his arm soothingly before knocking softly on Brock’s door, Coolie barking in the background.

Despite the cold weather, and Brock trying to block every shot of yours that you tried to get to go in, you were having a great time. It was deceiving though, because you were sort of in your head about all of it, almost giving yourself the illusion that the date with Brock was real.

You stepped off to the side of the course, leaning against a short fence. Brock followed you, positioning himself right next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“What do you think?” He asked, nodding his head toward where his teammate was, fumbling over his golf club while Kyn laughed at him softly. You smiled.

“I like her, he looks like a nervous wreck but it’s nice to at least see some emotion.” You joked, leaning against the small white fence next to Brock as you watched Quinn fumble over Kyn. She was currently giving him an earful about how to properly put the shot in through the small windmill, Quinn looking at her with adoration in his eyes.

Brock laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder while he watched them. It was stupid, really, how such a simple action from him caused you to feel nervous. You had known Brock for a while now and while he wasn’t overly affectionate with other people that you could tell, he always seemed to have a need to be touching you when you were together. Sometimes it was his knee brushed up against yours on the couch during movie nights, sometimes it was his arm casually thrown over your shoulder while you were out with some of the team, and sometimes it was his hand brushing against yours while you walked.

“Wanna ditch them?” Brock’s voice pulled you from your own head. You looked over at where Quinn and Kyn were standing, he was laughing at something she said, both seemingly oblivious to the fact that you and Brock had separated yourselves from them. You turned toward Brock, leaning into him slightly.

“Movie night?” You asked, knowing that those were likely going to be the next words from his mouth. Brock smiled, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your temple, sending your heart flying at the seemingly friendly kiss.

Brock pulled back, avoiding your eye as if he wasn’t sure why he had just done that and you felt your shoulders slump a bit at his reaction, only reinforcing his lack of feelings for you. But, the moment passed almost as quickly as it came, and he smiled down at you.

“You know me so well.” He said, the two of you already leaving the mini-golf course, seeing Quinn and Kyn in the distance, a budding romance building up between them that you found yourself slightly jealous over, no matter how hard you tried to push the thoughts of Brock taking you on a real date away.

---------

The next week, you were lounging on Brock’s couch, Coolie with his head on your lap, your hand resting gently on his head. Brock was in Washington DC, the Canucks on an east coast run. Over the last few weeks, you had slowly become the one that Brock trusted enough to watch Coolie, with you usually staying over at his condo, keeping an eye on things whenever he was gone. It was nice, domesticity with Brock that you fell comfortably into. You felt at home in his place, after many nights spent there with him over the few short weeks you had known him, and you absolutely loved the dog.

You never thought about how your friendship looked to other people, how quickly everything seemed to progress. You just felt like Brock knew you, and you knew him, two pieces of a puzzle that fit together smoothly, the only rough edges being your unrequited feelings for him.

You sometimes wondered if it was crossing some sort of metaphorical barrier of friendship though. You slowly picked up on him not talking to other girls, him calling and texting you even more so than he already used to, his body usually as close to yours as possible when you were together, and you would be lying if you said that you didn’t let your heart think about what it all meant.

The annoying thing was that you beat yourself up over it, allowing your mind to drift into places that Brock never put you in, in the first place. He never did anything to make you feel not good enough for him, so why did you suddenly feel like that’s what it was?

You hadn’t been able to watch the game that night, getting in late from work as you rushed from your office back to where Brock lived, where you used to live. You had seen the score though, and you knew the Canucks lost, and you were anxiously awaiting Brock’s Facetime to talk it out with him.

Brock always called you after bad games, or away games. There was something soothing in your ability to ground him, you listened to him, never offering advice if it wasn’t warranted, but you held him accountable to his game. He loved that about you, you had taken the time to learn him, memorizing everything about the inner workings of his mind to a point where he was unsure of if anyone would ever compare to you. Brock wanted you, more than anything, but what you had was so valuable that he wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk of losing. So instead, he took what he could get from you, and tried his best to give you everything you needed in return. He knew he was setting himself up for heartbreak down the line, but he didn’t care, so he kept dialing your number, with no intentions of stopping.

You picked up on the third ring, switching the call to facetime. Brock’s heart swelling in his chest, seeing you there in his condo, with his dog laying on you. He was selfishly getting too used to it, coming home to you, so much so that he found himself missing you when he would find stray items of yours scattered around. The hair ties in the bathroom, or the smell of your shampoo on his pillows. He knew he was falling, hard, and every time he came home to you, he found it harder and harder to restrain. Li

“Hey,” you said, eyes soft as you took in his appearance. He was in a hotel room, the dim lighting, and bad decor a giveaway. He looked tired, as you scanned his face you saw the large gash on his cheek, flecks of bruising starting to appear around it.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rushed out, instantly worried. You hadn’t seen anything about him getting injured, and even if it was just a cut, you felt a tugging on your chest, needing to know he was okay.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay, just a high stick. My shoulder is a bit sore though, I took some bad hits.” He said, voice calm and reassuring. Brock was the type of guy who didn’t like to complain, he didn’t want people worrying about him, so he tended to brush things off, instead of focusing on what others needed. It was one of your favorite things about him, how selfless he was, but sometimes you needed him to take care of himself. You never said anything though, because it wasn’t your place to tell Brock how to react or not react to things that happened to him, especially if they were in his career. It was your job to be there as his friend and support him when he needed it, so that’s what you did night after night, facetime calls going so late into the night, often falling asleep next to one another on-screen.

“Tell me about your day though, could use the distraction.” He smiled. You could tell that something was off with him, maybe it was that he didn’t want to worry you with his pain, or maybe something else happened and he didn’t want to talk about it. Brock rarely asked for a distraction, he was always forthcoming with you, so him not wanting to talk about what happened bothered you, more so than it probably should have.

You bit your lip, glancing away from the camera slightly before looking back at him, short enough that you didn’t think he would notice. The truth was that you didn’t have a good day, you found out that you were going to be unable to go home for Christmas, something you had been looking forward to since moving to Vancouver.

Brock noticed something was wrong as soon as you picked up the call and switched it to facetime. You looked tired, your eyes heavy, the room dark with just the small lamp by his couch illuminating your face. He still thought you were beautiful, his mind reeling when he noticed you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, something that you did often that he never grew tired of. He saw you bite your lip and look away, something that you had a tendency to do when something was wrong. He softened a bit, waiting to see if you would bring it up with him. When you didn’t answer right away, he said your name softly and you turned, offering him a small but not quite all there smile in return.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. You looked at Brock, not necessarily surprised at how he picked up on your shift in mood. You felt your eyes well up with tears, partially from the news from today, partially because you were simply exhausted, and partially because you missed him. He had been gone almost a week now and you were missing him more than you knew you should for being just his friend. Being in his condo, sleeping in his bed, the scent of him everywhere, it felt too intimate and you were beginning to get overwhelmed by what it all meant.

“I can’t go home for Christmas.” you softly said, him frowning slightly in return.

Brock knew how much that trip meant to you. You loved the holidays and you had been telling him for weeks how excited you were to go home and bake with your mom, go out to the tree farm and cut down the perfect tree with your dad, and just be around your family that you hadn’t seen in months. He also knew that most of the people you were close to in the city probably weren’t staying in the city for the holidays, and his heart ached at the thought of you spending Christmas alone.

“I’ll stay with you.” He said, voice small as if he was afraid this was too much, or the wrong thing to do.

“No, Brock you can’t, what about your dad?” You frowned, knowing how important going back to Minnesota whenever he could was to him. Brock picked up the phone, adjusting it on his pillow as he shifted around in the bed.

“I’ll just go home for All-Star break, it’s only a few more weeks, they’ll understand.”

“Brock-” you tried, him cutting you off quickly.

“I want to stay, let me.” He sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by it. You knew Brock cared about you, he always made you feel like you were one of the most important people in his life, but volunteering to stay with you for Christmas because he felt bad you couldn’t go home was heartwarming in a way that you couldn’t describe. You felt light tears pricking in the corner of your eyes, the relief from knowing you wouldn’t be alone during your favorite time of the year making you emotional.

You propped the phone on the coffee table in front of you and pulled one of the sleeves of the sweatshirt down to wipe your eyes. Smiling softly at Brock who was watching you carefully, taking in your movements, hoping that you wouldn’t fight him on this.

“Okay.” was all you could manage, the tears slipping out quicker.

“Good, because I really think I need to make my trainer mad by eating a whole batch of those gingerbread cookies you have been raving about for a month.” Brock joked, trying to lighten the mood. He hated seeing you cry and it was even more distressing to him when you were alone in his condo, him a thousand miles away unable to do anything about it.

You smiled at his joke, nodding your head at his words. Words couldn’t describe how appreciative you were of Brock, and a few weeks later when Christmas did roll around, you baked him two batches of those gingerbread cookies, watching in enamored amusement as he tried to shape them into various shapes. You were treading down a slippery slope with Brock, one that you were terrified of as the train raced down the track, headed toward the sharp curve of your heart, a curve that you weren’t sure the train could withstand.

---------

January came and went, with you busying yourself with your last semester of classes, and Brock going home over the All-Star break, you felt like you hadn’t seen him in a while. It was the busiest month for both of you, with the Canucks mostly out of town for away games, the only times you truly got to see Brock were when he would come back to his condo late from roadies, carefully slipping himself into the bed next to you, softly murmured “hellos” before you both drifted back to sleep.

It was agonizing in a way, this back of forth with Brock, you were friends, but ever since Christmas, it had felt like more. You were almost sure he was going to kiss you that night, the tree illuminated in the background, joking around about hanging mistletoe up. And you let yourself stand there in front of him, prepared to take what felt like a long-overdue step in the confines of your relationship and it just never came. Brock never leaned in to kiss you that night, and you had carefully replayed the entire scenario over and over in your head wondering why he didn’t.

But now it was late February, and you were running late from work getting to Brock’s birthday party. You had been excited about this the whole week, feeling like you hadn’t had that many great opportunities to spend quality time with him. You were in the throws of midterm exams and a big project deadline at work, simply catching glimpses of him in late-night Facetime calls or the occasional morning coffee runs together if he didn’t have a morning skate or practice scheduled that day.

You had felt something shift since he spent Christmas with you, a dynamic in your friendship that felt slightly different. You didn’t know how to describe it, but the thoughts of him as more than your friend were getting stronger, more evident in the way that you thought about him. You were scared that maybe he could see your feelings, as if they were like a neon sign lit up in a window, the window protecting the piece of your heart that you hadn’t given to him.

You felt anxious as you left work, time slipping away from you as you sent Brock a quick text, apologizing for being late, and that you’d be there soon. You walked down the streets of downtown Vancouver, holding your arms close to your chest to keep yourself warm from the late winter breeze as you headed toward the bar where you knew everyone was.

Brock had been anxiously awaiting your arrival at the bar, knowing you were leaving a work meeting that had gone on a bit later than you anticipated. Most of his friends were there, mingling amongst each other in the dimly lit setting as they began celebrating Brock’s birthday, drinks freely flowing. He was waiting at the bar, saving a drink just for you for when you got there, knowing that you were the one he wanted to see. He watched carefully as he saw your figure come into view, you tucking your ID back into your bag and looking around for anyone you recognized. He was just about to raise his hand to try to get your attention when he saw you run into Quinn, instantly pulling him into a quick hug that Brock told himself he wasn’t allowed to be jealous over.

“You should tell her.” Brock looked over at the voice, Elias walking into the bar to get a refill of his drink. Brock just watched as the bartender handed him a new drink, Petey bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. When Brock made no move to respond to his friend, Elias spoke up once more.

“You should tell her how you feel.” He clarified, shifting his eyes slightly to where you were standing, just outside of earshot from where they were leaning against the dark wooden bar counter. Brock followed his gaze to where you were, looking at you. You must have just gotten there, your coat still wrapped tightly around your shoulders, cheeks, and nose slightly flushed from the strangely cold February night.

You were laughing at something that Quinn was saying, a genuine smile reaching your eyes. He would do anything to be the one to make you smile all of the time, harboring feelings that no one should have for someone who was supposed to be just a friend. If he really thought about it, he could rationalize that maybe you felt the same way, that the lingering looks you gave him as he told you about something important to him, the lines crossed after nights out where you’d wake up in his bed with your legs entangled together, all were indications that you wanted him in all of the ways he wanted you.

He was about to deny it, words tumbling out along the lines of “We’re just friends” to Petey that he had said so many times before, unsure of who he was trying to convince at this point. But before he could stop looking, you turned, catching his gaze, and offered him a small smile. The moment was quick as you turned your attention back to what Quinn was saying, but Brock was mesmerized by the small upturn of your lips.

“Brock.” Petey tried, looking at his friend who was so hopelessly in love with you that it didn’t even surprise anyone anymore. Brock pulled the cap from his head, running his hand through his blonde hair before putting it back on, trying to shake off the moment that had just happened.

“There’s nothing to tell, we’re just friends.” He laughed, desperately trying to believe it himself. It was so much easier if you truly were just friends, and if he had to repeat that statement a million times for it to be true, and for him to forget about the feelings he had for you, he would. He couldn’t lose you, and if that meant mentally locking up his heart when it came to you, that’s something he was willing to do.

“You two are something else.” Petey shrugged, leaving the counter with his drink. Brock quickly finished his vodka-soda, nodding to the bartender for a refill. He felt the alcohol starting to take effect on his body, watching as you slowly work your way through the crowd of his teammates toward him, stopping and saying hello as you passed by.

“Hey, birthday boy.” You smiled, walking right into Brock’s open arms. He hugged you close, resting his chin on your head for a moment before leaning back to grab you a drink. The bar in downtown Vancouver was busy even by a Friday night standard. The season had somehow worked out in Brock’s favor that year, with only a practice scheduled the morning of his birthday, and a day off the day after. He held you close for a moment, taking in the scent of your perfume and the presence of your body wrapped in his. He was already a few drinks in, feelings for you bubbling up to the surface from the haziness of the alcohol.

He handed you a vodka soda, letting his eyes scan your body quickly. You were wearing black booties and a pair of black skinny jeans that hugged your hips nicely. You had a navy blue sweater on, the dainty gold necklace that you always wore peeking through the collar. You had just come from work, not having time to change before heading to the party everyone was having for Brock’s birthday. You smiled at your best friend, chuckling slightly to yourself as you saw how hazy his eyes were from the drinks.

“Got you something, Boes.” you said, digging into your bag to pull out a small box, wrapped in blue paper. Brock looked from your eyes to the box, smiling widely as he slipped it from your fingers.

“A present? From my favorite girl?” He said, grinning widely. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a sloppy drunk kiss to your temple, something that was a bit more than friendly and had your mind racing. Your skin feeling hot from his touch, even through your sweater, your silly little crush on your friend rising to the surface from his overly affectionate tipsy actions.

“Open it!” You beamed, taking a long sip of your drink. Brock quickly unwrapped the box, the curve of his lips tilting upwards as he looked inside.

“These are amazing, I love them.” He said, looking at the silver cufflinks you got him, engraved with a small outline of Coolie on each one. You thought the idea was kind of silly when you bounced it around with Petey, him reassuring you that this was exactly the type of sentimental but useful gift that Brock would love. Brock pulled you into another hug, letting his arm linger on your body as people started filtering through to wish him a happy birthday. You let your guard down, drinking arguably too much with your best friend, your head spinning faster each time his hands lingered on your body.

“Are you coming back to my place?” He asked, smiling once again at you. You nodded, curling your body back into his arm, that was loosely hanging over your shoulder. His breath was hot on your ear as he smiled wide at your wordless answer. You felt butterflies at the question that was only loaded in your head and going with a surge of bravery you reached up and laced your fingers through his, a move that earned you another soft kiss to your temple, and Brock’s sparkling drunk eyes looking at you fondly. You both ignored the looks from the others as you left the bar like that, hand in hand walking back to his condo, drunken giggles, and incoherent secrets spilled between you.

The walk back to the familiar building was quick and one you had taken many times before moving out, fond memories of nights out with Brock entering your mind as you stepped into the lobby.

“It’s still weird coming back here and not going into my place.” You said, walking into the elevator Brock trailing behind you, hand still laced tightly in yours. He pulled you flush against his chest, facing the mirror on the back of the elevator, looking at himself holding you, something he never wanted to stop doing.

“I miss just walking over to your place in the middle of the night.” He frowned, remembering the day you moved out.

“Mmm, me too babe, me too,” you mumbled into his jacket, the pet name slipping from your lips before you could reel it back in. Brock finally let go of you when the elevator doors opened, following your lead as you walked toward his front door. He fumbled with his keys as he heard his dog running toward the door at the sound of you and him waiting outside. When he slid the key in the lock, you pushed the door open, drunken giggles and Coolie’s whining filling the silence.

“Coolie, my favorite boy!” You said, tumbling into Brock’s condo, getting down on the floor to allow his dog to jump all over you in excitement. Brock laughed, walking into the kitchen and pulling out two glasses from the cupboard, filling each one with water. He came around the counter, reaching a hand down to help you up to your feet, you crashing into his chest, giggling.

You took the glass of water from the counter, drinking it slowly as you walked toward Brock’s bedroom, entering his closet to pull out a shirt for yourself to sleep in for the night. It didn’t even phase Brock how you walked around as if you lived there, because deep down he spent a lot of nights thinking about it. Whenever he was on a roadie, he knew you were there, watching his dog, sleeping in his bed, and it drove him crazy.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your bed?” You groaned, plopping yourself on top of the bed, crawling underneath the covers. Brock laughed in return, tossing his shirt to the floor and getting in next to you. He pulled you into his chest, the atmosphere in the room shifting to something more serious. You tried to focus on his face and the way he was looking at you, but all you could feel was your heart beating in your ears as his fingers danced softly along the top of your hip, sliding his shirt that was draped on your body just enough to show skin. You needed to do something to break the silence, to pull his stare away from you before you did something that you might regret.

“Did you have a good birthday?” You whispered, hoping that he couldn’t hear the steady thumping in your chest. Brock smiled again, his whole facial expression getting softer the more he looked at you.

“The best.” He whispered back, leaning in and pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of your mouth, lips almost touching yours. Your breath caught in your throat, the moment passing as quickly as he did it. Brock tightened his arm around you, leaning his head into your shoulder. You lay frozen there, with Brock draped over your body as you struggled to breathe. Brock’s almost kiss sending you into a spiral of thoughts, instantly making your heart race. It wasn’t until you felt his hot breath on your neck, and heard his snores in your ear that you were able to calm down enough, drifting to sleep, neither of you remembering or mentioning the almost kiss by the time you woke up.

The next morning, your eyes felt heavy, your head pounding as you tried to block out the sun coming in from Brock’s windows, the floor to ceiling windows normally offering your favorite view of the city shining sunlight that was far too bright for anyone who had that much to drink the night before to deal with. You groaned, feeling Brock’s arm wrapped securely around your waist, no memory of how you got into this position with him from the night before.

“Brock.” You shifted, trying to move out from under his arm. He groaned in response, pulling you even closer into his chest. You were overwhelmed by the situation you were in, Brock’s legs entangled with yours, his arm sprawled over your middle, his head in the crook of your neck. You felt more vulnerable with each thump of your quickening heartbeat, holding your breath while you pieced together the night before. You and Brock had slept in the same bed before, you were adults and friends. Sometimes after a night out, the two of you would stumble drunkenly back to his condo, wordlessly sinking into his bed together to sleep off whatever the drinks of choice were for the occasion. This felt different, you’d never woken up completely consumed by him, your bodies close together. It felt too intimate for your relationship, his arms too closely holding your body, his lips mere centimeters away from peppering light kisses into your neck.

You found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to wake up like this every morning, feeling secure and content in Brock’s arms. You could easily picture a slow morning where you’re woken up in the late morning to soft kisses, running your hands through his hair while you come close together. It wasn’t that far off from where you were now with him, only you couldn’t just wake him up and kiss him, and the realization sent you spiraling into your own heart with feelings you had so desperately tried to keep at bay for months. You needed space, you needed to get out of his grasp and forget about how good it felt to be with him, even if it was only for a moment of consciousness.

“Brock.” You said more firmly this time, you shook his arm slightly and he seemed to realize what was going on. His eyes fluttered open and for a moment he looked at you, there in his arms and it was the best feeling he had experienced in a long time. Something so simple as being wrapped up in you sent him over the edge, tumbling through his feelings like a boat on rocky water.

He pulled himself from you, running a hand through his hair as he watched you get out of his bed, eyes lingering down your body. His heart was pounding, and his mind racing as you stretched slowly in front of him, his t-shirt you had borrowed from the night before riding up your thighs slightly. He let himself imagine for a moment what it would be like to pull you back into bed, fingers laced together while you’re underneath him, needing only each other.

“Fuck.” he cursed, trying to rid himself of the image he created.

“What?” You laughed, turning to look at Brock. He had a hand stretched out over his face as he groaned.

“Just a headache, one too many vodka sodas.” He joked, sliding his hand through his hair before smiling at you. You smiled back, your eyes soft as you focus on him. It felt like something more, the way you looked at him.

“Well, Boes, I’m starving, think I need some of your famous eggs.” You grin at him, the moment passing just as quickly as it began.

---------

Brock steps onto the ice, knocking over a few pucks that are stacked up on the bench next to the tunnel before beginning his usual warm-up lap. It’s game one of the first round of playoffs, the Canucks entering as the wild-card this year. He was absolutely buzzing with nerves for the first game, the energy in Rogers Arena already different than it was for normal home games.

It was still early, but the arena was already filling up with fans.

He was focusing on his pregame rituals, but still taking his time to read the signs that kids had taken the time to write, stopping every so often to toss a puck in their direction. He took glances over at the other end of the ice, where the San Jose Sharks were warming up for the game, flashes of video of their games running through his head as he focussed on getting mentally checked into the game.

He was pleasantly surprised when he skated by and sees you behind the player’s bench a few minutes into warmups, pre-game nerves for the playoffs settling in, but somehow slowly evaporating when he realizes you're there. You’re smiling brightly at him, offering a small nod as he noticed you. He quickly glances toward the young girl next to you, holding your hand. Brock quickly picked up a puck on his stick, bouncing it around before catching it in his right hand. He mouthed something to you that you didn’t quite catch, but before you could ask he was tossing the puck in your direction. You caught it, watching Brock as he smiled at your niece and waved.

“Is that the one?” Your sister-in-law teased as you reached down, and handed the puck to your five-year-old niece. You sighed, knowing exactly where she was headed with this conversation.

“We’re just friends.” You tried, not knowing who you were trying to convince more at this point. Your crush on Brock had developed into full-on feelings, and sometimes you were almost sure that he could sense the way you reacted to him. You hadn’t admitted your feelings to anyone, hoping that if you kept them guarded close to your chest that you would eventually move on and stop daydreaming about your best friend. But it seemed like almost everyone was onto your scheme, poking fun at your dynamic with each other every chance they got. No matter how many times it happened, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pinch in your chest each time Brock brushed off their comments. Your heart sinking every time he laughed the words,

“We’re just friends.” To someone.

Holly came down after warmups, just before the game was set to start, a smirk present on your face as she held her hands behind her back.

“Okay, what’s that face for?” You rolled your eyes, knowing Holly it could be anything. She pulled her hands in front of her to reveal a denim jacket resembling her own. You looked at it, noticing Boeser clearly written on the back, details surrounding his name of things you knew and loved about him. One thing that caught your eye, was the small patch on the top right corner, just where one of the seams aligned with the shoulder. You widened your eyes at your small initials embroidered into the corner.

“Well, what do you think?” She smiled brightly handing the jacket to your shaking hands. You didn't know what to think. You weren’t Brock’s girlfriend, Holly knew this. Holly also knew about your long harbored crush for him, feelings that had been spinning out of control lately, a wag jacket doing nothing to help them go away.

Your sister in law looked at you, a knowing smirk evident on her face as she bounced your niece in her lap.

“Holly…” You trailed off, unsure of if it was even appropriate for you to be wearing something like this, endless questions racing through your mind, wondering if Brock even knew about this, and worse, if he did, what would he say. You ran your fingers over the stitching on the jacket, letting your heart think for just a moment about what it would be like to wear this if you were actually his girlfriend.

“Well, put it on. I want to see.” you sighed at her demand, stomach filling with nerves as you placed the jacket over your sweater, the fit perfect on your frame. You felt like people were staring, it was obvious what that jacket symbolized and even most casual fans knew who Holly was, being that her husband was the captain of the team. The last thing you wanted to do was end up all over Twitter as “Brock Boeser’s girl spotted” or something like that. Not only would it be embarrassing, but your feelings were already growing stronger, like ivy settling into a trellis, weaving its way through the spaces while the beautiful leaves slip out, and you didn’t need those leaves present to the entirety of hockey Twitter right before an important series for Brock.

“God, he’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you. Poor guy probably won’t make it.” She said, taking a sip of her drink and settling down into the seat, the other girls slowly started to fill the friends and family section down by the ice. You felt exposed, standing there in a matching jacket knowing that so many of the girls knew you weren’t Brock’s girlfriend.

“Wait, he doesn’t know?” You exclaimed, making a move to slide the jacket off of your shoulders, embarrassment clouding your judgment, and turning your cheeks a bright color as you felt the temperature of the arena shift. The lights began to dim and the Canucks opening graphics started to appear on the ice, you instantly shrugging back into your seat when you saw Brock skate out with the rest of the opening lineup, eyes searching the crowd for you as he stood there next to his linemates. He offered a small smile toward you, nodding slightly before focussing his attention back on the ice as you waited for the anthems to start. You tried to ignore the way the jacket felt on your body the rest of the game, ignoring how the meaning of wearing it felt as time progressed.

It was late in the third when Brock scored a goal, pulling the team ahead 2-1. You jumped up and cheered loudly along with the girls as he skated right up to the glass in front of you with his linemates. When the celebration broke and he skated along the bench, bumping fists with his teammates, he looked at you the entire time, smiling brightly. He didn’t notice the jacket, too focussed on your smiling face, and the momentum shift as his goal pushed the Canucks in the lead as he skated by, the goal ending up as the game-winner for the opening night of the first-round series against the Sharks.

You shuffled out of the stands, saying goodnight to your sister-in-law and niece before following Holly down to the tunnels, a text from Brock burning a hole into your hand as you read it.

Wait for me? It read.

The words twisting in your mind as you tried to decipher what they meant. It could be nothing, but you couldn’t help but feel a shift in the air as you wore his last name on your back, standing amongst all of the other wives and girlfriends. You tried to push the feelings down, shoving them back into the box whose wood was splintering more and more lately, feelings for Brock tumbling out of the cracks. You couldn’t even deny it anymore, you liked him, and it terrified you in a way that you couldn’t explain, and wearing his name on your back was doing nothing to help you push the problem away.

You tapped your foot anxiously as you stood around with the rest of the girls waiting for him. You felt a bit out of place, being there among all of the wives and girlfriends, but Holly had stuck by your side, welcoming you with open arms, and a big surprise that you were now wearing.

The denim jacket hung loosely over your shoulders, Boeser embossed on the back, the number 6 stitched on the right arm. You felt a bit strange about it at first, not wanting to cross another boundary with Brock, the lines seemingly becoming blurrier and blurrier as the last few months wound down. You told yourself it was just playoffs, this was standard, and you knew Brock wasn’t seeing anyone, in fact, as far as you knew, he hadn’t been talking to anyone for months. You tried your best to ignore what that meant, to tell yourself it was just a coincidence that the two of you had started spending even more time together.

Brock exited the locker room, his hair was still slightly damp from the shower, his navy blue suit back on his body. He was riding a post game-high, and the feelings only escalated when he saw you standing off to the side. Your bag was draped across your arm, foot lightly tapping on the ground as your eyes looked around the hallway. His breath came to a stop when he realized what you were wearing.

Draped over your shoulders was a light wash denim jacket, one that he instantly recognized as the infamous wag jackets. His eyes darkened as he scanned your body, gaze lingering on the number 6 on your right arm, his number. He took the final steps toward you, wrapping your body into his as you realized it was him there to greet you.

You looked up at him, instinctively tossing a hand up to his slightly damp hair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he hugged you.

“That’s a nice jacket.” He said, leaning his head in, resting his forehead against yours, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to rapidly beat in your chest. You didn’t know what he was doing, but something about the darkness of his eyes, and the softness of his voice removed you from where you were. All you could focus on was him, not the tunnel, not the other players and wags shuffling out of the arena, it was just you and Brock.

“Yeah? Thought I’d represent my favorite guy.” You whispered, leaning in ever so slightly, shaking with nerves and hoping that you weren’t misreading the situation. This was it, Brock was finally going to kiss you, and you weren’t entertaining any of your head’s thoughts of stopping it.

“I’d hope that’s my last name on the back.” He said, the tone of his voice lower, eyes reflecting something darker that you hadn’t seen before. Your cheeks were probably red by now, your heart was beating in your throat, and butterflies were swirling deep in your stomach as you both leaned in. The moment was agonizingly slow. You felt your eyes flutter shut, preparing yourself for a kiss that you had spent months waiting to happen.

“Boes! You forgot this!” Jake yelled, and Brock pulled away from you quickly, recovering instantly as if the moment never happened. Your heart sank, and your stomach filled with another emotion, one that you tried to avoid thinking about as you hung the jacket up in your closet later that night, coming to the realization that he didn’t want to kiss you, rather he must have just been caught up in the moment.

Neither of you mentioned the almost kiss, instead it was added to the overstuffed box of moments that you swore he felt what you were feeling, only to be locked away collecting dust as you waited for a kiss that at this point you were beginning to feel like would never come.

The Canucks unfortunately were knocked out of the first round, your heart aching as you watched the final seconds of the sixth game on tv, knowing that Brock was probably beating himself up over the missed breakaway chance from earlier in the period that would have tied it and sent it to overtime. You watched sadly as the Canucks skated off the ice, seeing Brock with his head down as he left quickly.

Your heart ached for him and the rest of the team, knowing how hard they had worked to get to that spot only to be eliminated so early on. You opened up your text thread with him, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you questioned how to offer your support when he most likely didn’t even want that right now. Before you could come up with some attempt at empathy for what he was feeling, your phone buzzed in your hand, his name flashing on the screen indicating a text.

“Going to try to sleep off the bad mood, we land at 8:30 tomorrow.” The text read. You just sent three blue heart emojis back, not knowing what to say, wishing that you could comfort him but knowing that he just wanted to be left alone. You couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting. You wanted to be the person he went to for everything, and while you knew you were practically that person already, him not opening up to you now had you feeling like it was a reassurance that he didn’t feel the same. Your brain is trying to convince you that if he did have feelings, he would want to talk to you.

The official end of the season also meant that you knew your time with Brock was dwindling down as he prepared to go back to his hometown for the summer, something you were selfishly dreading. Going a few days without Brock usually felt too long, and you selfishly didn’t know how you’d handle not being able to see him every day. With how close you had grown in the months since meeting him, and how wrapped up in him you had somehow let yourself fall, you couldn’t imagine what this summer would be like with him gone.

Brock got back into Vancouver the next morning, coffee and pastries in hand as he came into his condo, relaxing as soon as he saw you and Coolie curled up on the couch. You were wrapped in the throw blanket, head leaning awkwardly on the back of the couch with Coolie curled up next to you. Your favorite show was softly playing on the TV in the background, a now cold cup of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

He went into his room, dropping his bags near the closet and grabbing some fresh sweats and a shirt to wear, Coolie noticing and jumping off the couch to follow him. He reached down, greeting his dog with affection before walking back out to the living room. He slipped onto the couch next to you, pulling the blankets over enough to cover himself, nudging you softly until your eyes fluttered open to meet his.

“You’re back.” You said, voice slightly groggy from sleeping. Brock reached up and put his arm around you, motioning you to lay down on his lap. You smiled, curling yourself into him and adjusting your position so that you were able to lay on his lap. His arm adjusted, resting over your stomach, his hand just close enough to yours that you almost reached up and threaded your fingers through his. His other hand softly playing with your hair, actions feeling like they were blurring a line to the point of almost crossing it, but not taking the final step.

He didn’t say anything in return, instead looking down at you with a smile. You could tell he was upset, the reality of the season-ending finally kicking in now that he was home. But he made no move or indication that he was wanting to discuss it, probably earning an earful from the coach anyways. Instead, the two of you settled into the spot there, your show playing on the tv with both of your minds drifting to each other, wondering if the quickening paces of your hearts were normal or just an illusion of the feelings unspoken between you.

A few hours later, you found yourself in a different position, your feet were feet propped up into his lap, one of his hands was resting securely on one of your shins as he scrolled through his phone with the other. It was quiet, the two of you finally up and awake from the nap you took together when he came back, and you knew the inevitable talk of him leaving was coming.

You didn’t want to talk about it, and if you had your way, Brock would be staying in Vancouver this summer with you. But, you weren’t his girlfriend, and it was unreasonable to allow your mind to drift to that place, no matter how many times you thought to yourself that he must feel the same, only to be let down by nothing ever-progressing past friendship between you.

You didn’t know how much longer you could handle it, the underlying feelings every time his skin touched yours, the times where it felt like he was so close to finally kissing you, only to pull back and stop himself. You didn’t know what to do, your heart and mind battling back and forth with your mind begging you to distance yourself, trying to tell you that it was good he would be gone for a few months, and your heart telling you to keep as close to him as possible.

“So, when are you going home?” Your voice broke the silence. You spoke quietly, trying to hide the hint of sadness in your voice at the idea of him leaving. Brock looked up from his phone, locking it and setting it down on the coffee table before he squeezed your shin reassuringly.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that.” He started with a hint of nervousness in his voice. You leaned up, propping yourself up on the pillows to look at him, nodding at him to continue.

“Do you want to come home with me?” His question startled you and sent your mind slipping down a runway that you didn’t understand. The question felt loaded yet natural at the same time. Going home with him meant meeting his family, spending time with the people he cared the most about, and you didn’t know how to process what exactly he was asking of you.

You were just Brock’s friend, what would his family assume when he brought you home? Did they know about you? The questions were circling in your mind, causing you to freeze for a moment before being able to answer his question.

“Brock, what do you mean?” you asked.

“I know the last couple of months have been hard, with graduation and your job winding down, and I also know that I can’t imagine spending months away from you. I thought it would be nice to show you where I’m from, get you away from the city for a bit. You’d love it there.” Your heart fluttered at his words, overtaking every inner thought that your mind was screaming at you. Your head was telling you to say no, that this was most definitely a clear boundary that shouldn’t be crossed. But your heart was running through every red light, every traffic signal placed there by your head, telling you to turn around and stay in Vancouver.

You placed your hand over his and he instinctively flipped his hand over and threaded his fingers into yours. It was a small gesture, but one that sent your heart into absolute overdrive, killing off any willpower that your head was trying to preserve.

“I’d love to.” You answered, leaving your hand entangled with his for a moment as you watched his smile grow, a weight seemingly lifting from his shoulders. He looked happy, and you would have done anything to make him happy.

---------

Spending time with Brock in Minnesota was something that you didn’t know you needed. You felt like you were seeing a different side of him, one that you knew was there but that you hadn’t had the privilege to see before. He was more at ease around his family, always in a relaxed state of mind no matter what was going on around him.

You watched him with his dad, sitting out on the dock next to one another. The hot sun casting a beautiful sheen onto the lake water outback. Brock’s hair was getting lighter, his skin getting tanner with each passing week, and you found yourself falling even more in love with him than you already were. Watching him with his family changed something in you, you knew you had feelings before, but for the first time since discovering them, you wanted to do something about it.

There had been so many instances since being in Minnesota where you’d be there with Brock, so close to leaning in and finally crossing that boundary, showing him how you felt. But something stopped you every time, fear.

You continued looking out at the dock, watching as Brock sat with his dad. You loved this side of Brock, seeing him so at ease with one of the people that mattered most to him. You knew Brock was happy in Vancouver, and that he was working hard on contract negotiations to stay, but Brock in his hometown was a different side of him, one that you felt privileged to be able to see.

Your eyes lingered on the sky, bright stars filling the vast dark space, the moon illuminating a reflection against the water as you laid next to Brock on the small boat. Your head comfortably resting on his chest, his arm around your shoulders. It was another shift in closeness with him that had occurred over the short week you had been in Minnesota. Something between you had changed, and despite knowing everything you thought you could know about Brock, you found yourself wanting to know more. Each touch sends you closer to admitting your own feelings to him out loud, only to stop yourself short by the worry of losing the best thing in your life that you had.

“He’s happy you’re here, you know?” His mom’s voice startled you, her stepping onto the patio where you were, taking a seat at the small table outback, a drink in her hand. You looked at her curiously, replaying the words over in your head. Something about her tone had you feeling like there was more weight to them.

“I’m happy too.” You smiled, trying to keep your composure. It wasn’t that his family made you nervous, but you wanted to keep having a good impression on them because they were important to Brock.

“You can tell him, he feels the same way.” Her voice was distant, ringing in your ear as the words hit you like a force of air rushing through your lungs. You watched as she looked over at her husband and son, smiling softly, before looking back to you. You were frozen in time, hand firmly on your glass as you circled through her words in your head, dancing around the idea of taking them to heart.

“Just something to consider.” She said, standing back up and walking inside, leaving you to your thoughts.

You felt something bubbling up to the surface, feelings that you had tried for so long to keep in a box tucked away. Albeit, you were doing a poor job as of late, but something about what his mom said to you had you thinking about it, taking the chance on Brock, something you’d been telling yourself you don’t need to do for longer than you could remember. You were terrified, even if he did feel the same, that it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t work out and you’d be left alone, in a city that you grew to love because of his company, shattered while you were left to pick up the pieces alone. But you also knew that you couldn’t keep going the way that you had, the two of you dancing around something that had been seemingly so obvious for so long, mere inches from one of you taking the plunge.

Brock caught your eye from across the yard, a gorgeous smile on his face as he made eye contact with you, eyes squinting slightly from the sun, skin glowing. Something about the way that he looked at you at that moment had everything come crashing to a head for you, and you knew his mom was telling the truth. You knew Brock was just as in love with you as you were with him, and maybe if you let your guard down long enough, your own fears would be powerless to stop it.

A few hours later you found yourself outside with Brock, the two of you in a comfortable silence as the pinks and oranges flashed through the sky, the sun beginning to set and moon beginning to rise. You had been thinking about what his mom said to you all day, about him feeling the way you felt, willing yourself to just reach out and take his hand, lacing your fingers together like you had done so many times before, only this time the meaning would be more.

Brock stood up, his sudden movement startling you from your thoughts as he reached his hand out for yours. For a moment, you wondered if he was in your head, taking the leap that you had been wavering back and forth over for quite some time now.

“Come on, I wanna take you on the water.” He said. You tentatively reached out and placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you up as he threaded your fingers together leading you toward the small boat that was at the dock. He helped guide you over the ledge, using his hands to steady your hips when the boat lurched underneath your legs as you climbed on. You looked around, noticing the pile of pillows and blankets scattered on the floor of the boat deck, a bottle of your favorite wine visible.

Brock kept his hands steady on your hips for a few seconds as you adjusted to the movement of the water, your eyes curiously wandering around the small scene he had set up, fully intending to take you out for a nice sunset ride on the water.

“What’s all this?” You asked, feeling your stomach begin to fill with butterflies that Brock had given you so many times up until this point. He just looked at you, a fond smile present on his face while he reached his hand up from your hip, slowly guiding it toward the back of your neck to cradle your head in his hand. You thought, once again that this would be the moment where he would finally kiss you, but instead, you felt his lips touch your forehead, and your thoughts of doubt creep back in. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as he let your body go, motioning for you to sit down as he got the boat away from the dock, the sun setting in the distance.

The whole time spent navigating to the middle of the lake was quiet but comfortable. You sipping on wine, and Brock steering the boat, sun continuing to set. He had a serious look on his face, and from knowing Brock all of this time, you knew he brought you out here for a reason, one that you only hope would be something good.

He dropped an anchor in the water, keeping the boat steady when he got to a place he liked. It was beautiful, the water of the lake a gorgeous deep blue, the dark trees casting shadows onto the water as the sun disappeared from the horizon, the moon taking its place in the night. Brock came over to where you were sitting, laying down next to you and watching the stars. He was quiet, deep in thought as you looked at him.

“Brock,” you started. He turned to face you, leaning up slightly and opening his arms, a silent ask for you to lean into him. You laid down, resting your head onto his chest, on hand sprawled out on his stomach. He reacted quickly, one of his arms wrapping around you, holding you as close to him as possible, fingers pulling slightly on the ends of your hair. He pressed a soft kiss to your head, another action that sent your mind fluttering with worry as you waited for him to speak. The two of you resting in that position, holding each other while the night continued on.

“I got an offer today.” Brock’s voice broke the silence, vibrating through his chest as he spoke, his hand absentmindedly playing with the tips of your hair. You knew what he was talking about, it was part of the reason you had come with him back home in the first place. Brock was up for a contract in Vancouver, something he desperately wanted, but he also knew that anything is possible in the league, and things can change quickly. You lifted your head up to look at him, pressing your hand into his chest for balance.

“Where?” You asked, voice small. You didn’t want to let yourself think about what would happen if Brock left Vancouver, and you had managed to push the thought away for weeks. In your mind, Vancouver had to work out, and maybe that was selfish of you to think, but you didn’t care. You knew how much he loved the city and believed in that team, not to mention the friends he had. Moving somewhere would be devastating for him, and you didn’t know how to process what that could do to your friendship if it would even survive at all.

“Nashville.” He hummed, threading his hand through your hair, resting on the back of your neck. A simple touch, one far too intimate for your supposed dynamic, but that sends chills down your spine.

Your shoulders slumped as you went over what he just said, repeating Nashville in your head a few times, mentally calculating the distance, trying to justify hanging on when he would be almost half a world away. You felt your heart sink completely, silently closing the door to telling him how you felt that night, realizing that if he was leaving, maybe it wasn’t worth the risk at all.

“Oh.” You said. Brock sighed, still holding on to your neck, looking you deep in the eyes.

“I’m still waiting for Vancouver.” He smiled sadly. You looked at him for a moment, recognizing the tenderness in his eyes, the way he was so shakingly trying to keep his worries at bay, to protect you from the possibility that this was your last summer together. You laid your head back onto his chest, focussing your breathing to match his, listening to the steady beat of his heart while you laid there, mulling over the words tumbling through your head.

“Brock?” You whispered, not daring to move.

“Yeah?”

“What happens if you leave? To us?” You tried to sound light, but the shakiness in your voice was difficult to disguise, the only noise surrounding you was the soft rocking of the water, and crickets chirping through the darkness. Brock tightened his arm around you, pulling you further into his chest. It was warm, secure, and for a moment you allowed yourself to drift into a headspace where this was more than it was. Brock was your best friend, but in that moment, you had never felt more sure that all of your feelings were reciprocated, the two of your heartbeats synched.

“Nothing, no matter where I am, you’re too good for me to not be close to.” You tipped your head up at his words, faces mere inches apart.

“Do you mean that?” You whispered, already knowing it was the truth. Brock never was dishonest, he wore his heart on his sleeve and proudly carried around the scars that people who didn’t deserve him left. He gently raised his hand to your cheek, offering a reassurance you needed in his expression, eyes connected with yours.

“Always.”

You instinctively reached up, threading a hand through his blonde hair. The two of you looked at each other for a moment, your eyes glancing down to his lips. The moment is frozen in time, nothing but the late-night cool breeze passing over your skin, raising goosebumps on your arms, but the only sensation you could feel was your heartbeat in your throat, willing you to take the chance. It was now or never, you thought, needing to show him how you felt, how badly you couldn’t handle it if he went to Nashville, leaving you alone in Vancouver without him by your side.

Without processing your next move, or allowing yourself to stop, you leaned up and pulled his head down to meet yours, pressing your lips softly to his for the first time. Brock reacted quickly, leaning further into the kiss, moving his lips against yours. Your mind was on overdrive, and your stomach in knots. You had wanted to kiss Brock since the day you tumbled into his apartment, fresh cookies from your infamous stress baking sessions. But somewhere along the way, he became your best friend, and while the thoughts of kissing him never went away, you locked them into a box tucked deep in the cavities of your heart, in hopes that it would protect you from losing him. By kissing him you had taken an ax to the box, ripping it apart at the seams and allowing the feelings to escape, blind to the pressure that you would come to feel from it all in just hours time.

You tugged on the ends of his hair, the kiss becoming deeper as he pulled you closer to him, every emotion you were both feeling tumbling out from the safe spaces it had been locked in. Brock slowly pulled back, eyes darkened as he looked at you, lips slightly pinker. He had never thought he would get the chance to kiss you, and now that he had, he didn’t think he could ever stop. But, he needed to know you wanted it too, that this wasn’t some fleeting caught up in the moment kiss.

You smiled at him, a smile that he had seen so many times yet could never get enough of. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his jaw slowly, delicately as your fingers pulled through his hair. He could barely breathe, your lips igniting his skin. He needed to feel every inch of you.

“Are you sure?” He hummed out, tilting your head up to look at him once more, a question holding more weight than either of you imagined would happen when heading out into the late summer night on that boat.

“I need you.” was all you said, intently looking at the boy in front of you who had somehow become everything. Brock kissed you quickly, a fire in his eyes and heart that only could be contained by you. You deepened the kiss as he slowly leaned your body back, rolling himself to hover over you. Your hands ran up his chest, settling back into his hair. One of his hands firmly pressed into the dock, steadying himself as his other snaked under the sweatshirt of his you had on, settling on your bare skin just above your hip.

Your breathing started to get heavier as his lips left yours, trailing softly down your neck and collar bones. His hands slowly sliding up your sides, resting just below the line of your bra. He pulled back slightly to look at you, admiring once again how beautiful he thought that you were. You knew what he was going to ask next, Brock was always the type to need clear consent before doing anything. You reached a hand up to his cheek, lifting your head to press your lips to his softly once more.

“It’s okay, you can keep going.” You smiled, thankful for the only light being the moon so that he couldn’t see your flushed cheeks. Brock pulled his hand from your sweatshirt, reaching up to grab yours in his, lacing your fingers together and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a move that sent butterflies into your stomach.

“Are you sure?” He needed to hear you say it, he needed to make sure this feeling was real, and that he wasn’t just imagining what was about to happen with you. You squeezed his hand softly, words firm as you spoke.

“I want you, Brock, all of you.” He took his time, hands gently peeling the clothes off your body, reassuring kisses splattered all over your neck and chest. You leaned into him tugging softly on his hair while you felt his whole weight on top of you. Your mind was hazy, thinking of nothing but this moment with Brock, how good it felt to finally have him.

He laced his fingers through yours, pinning your hands down as he slowly entered you, his body hovering above yours. Moans softly filling the air as the pace picks up, your bodies flush against one another as you irrevocably cross a line in your friendship in the darkness, stars floating brightly in the sky, the only illuminance reflected on the still water.

---------

Brock swore he imagined it, you kissing him the night before, the way his hand fit tightly in yours, the soft breaths you took underneath him. And when he woke up to the light shining through the curtains, and you curled up under his arm he worried for a moment he was still in the dream. He lay there, listening to the soft snores coming from your slightly parted lips, admiring how at peace you looked. It was only when he realized you were in only his shirt, a hint of red marks peeking out from the collar that he realized he hadn’t been in a hazy dream after all. It was real, you and him, it was all real and he was determined to make it last.

“Morning,” Brock mumbled, pressing a light kiss into your shoulder. You opened your eyes slowly, memories of the night before flashing through your mind. You curl your body into Brock’s, and he pulls his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together. Your mind was racing, every emotion running through you. Brock kept peppering kisses along your shoulder, something that was far more intimate than friends should be doing. This was what you always wanted with him. So why did it feel like you were standing in a forest, waiting for the tree to drop on top of you, knocking you out of the dream world that you must have been residing in.

“Brock.” You whispered, daring yourself to break the silence. You felt your insides twisting, your stomach rumbling with nerves as you laid entwined with him. It didn’t feel real, and the longer you put off the inevitable conversation, the worse the heartbreak for you would be when he told you it didn’t mean anything or was a mistake.

“Yeah, baby?” He said, lifting his head up from your shoulder. You shifted in his arms, detaching yourself from him and sitting up in the bed. You felt exposed, laying there with nothing but a thin linen sheet covering your body, knowing that you had slept with Brock not once, but twice the night before. You bit your lip, avoiding his eye as he sat up next to you, running his hand through his hair.

Brock was nervous, you weren’t reacting how he assumed you would, and part of him wondered if last night was some fever dream. Something he imagined happening, but your naked bodies next to each other confirmed the reality of the position you two had put yourselves in. He wanted you, he wanted everything with you. He wanted to hold your hand all the time, kiss you whenever he wanted. He wanted to hold you while you cried and help wipe the tears away. He wanted to be yours and only yours, for as long as you’d have him, and the memories of your body entangled with his was pushing his heart to finally open up his heart fully to you, even if you already unknowingly held it in your hands.

“So, last night…” you trailed off, gripping the sheet closer to your chest. You were feeling more anxious with each breath you took, heart, filling with regret of your own actions as you sat there next to Brock. He smiled at you softly, no indication that anything was wrong, and although that should have reassured you that it would all be fine, something about it made you more uneasy. You opened your mouth to speak, willing your brain to somehow come up with everything that your heart wanted to say, only no words came out. Brock sensed your uneasiness and tried to grab your hand. You pulled yourself further away, not wanting to push the boundaries that you bulldozed through the night before.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Brock’s words rang in your ear, echoing in your mind as you felt your breathing constrict as if you were underwater, gasping for a final breath of air to fill your lungs. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, the words coming from his lips were so sincere, so heartfelt, and was what you thought you would want to feel in this situation. He watched you carefully, reading the signs of apprehension on your face, his heart pace quickening.

“I think I have been for a long time honestly, you just, you’re my best friend. But you’re more than that, you’re who I want to call in the middle of the night when I’m feeling down, you’re who I can’t wait to come home to after weeks away. You’re who I want next to me at every moment. I want to hold you all the time, comfort you when you’re sad, and celebrate with you when something good happens. God, you’re everything, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known.” He continued. He looked so happy, the weight of his words weighing heavily in the air, causing you to further sink into the bed, grasping on to the sheet like you were on the edge of a mountain, hanging on for dear life. You were biting your lip so hard, nearly drawing blood as he told you everything your heart wanted to hear. But it all felt wrong.

“Brock, you don’t love me, we just-” you struggled to find the words, not wanting to hurt him even though you were caving into your own insecurities and fears. You weren’t sure what you were doing, letting your brain sabotage what your heart desperately wanted, images flooding your mind about the pressures of being Brock Boeser’s girlfriend, what it all meant, how it would change you. You wanted nothing more at that moment than to go back to the day before and return to pining over him from afar because it was easier. It was easier when you didn’t know what his lips felt like against yours when you didn’t know that he was in love with you.

“I love you, and I want to be with you.” He said, his voice firm, eyes locked in yours. Brock was trying to hand you his heart, it was there, alive and beating in his hands and all you had to do was reach out and take it. All you had to do was say the three words back to him that you knew you had been feeling for years. But you couldn’t.

“Brock, we can’t.” Was all you managed to get out, your head hung down in shame. You didn’t see how his face fell, because you didn’t let yourself. You told yourself this was for the best, that Brock deserved someone better than you. Brock deserved to be with someone who he could give the world to, who could be waiting for him no matter where he went, and someone who he would be proud to show to the world. You felt your throat closing up and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You weren’t even strong enough to face him, knowing what you were doing to him.

“Oh.” He said, turning his head to look at you. He felt like his world crashed right in front of him, the best thing he could ever have just out of the reach of his fingertips. A lingering taste from the one bite of you that he got to take. You were starting to cry, and for the first time in the years that he had known you, he was at a loss for how to help. Everything felt murky between you, the lines blurred together past the point of visibility, a comforting touch felt like too much now that he had opened his heart, unrequited.

He had thought this summer with you had been different, a shift in the trajectory of your friendship, built up feelings finally coming out into the open. You looked at him differently, glances lingering past the point of friendship, dancing along blindly in what he thought were reciprocated feelings. Brock was never good at reading the signs, but something in the way you gravitated to him over the past month disillusioned him into believing what he felt was mutual, that the sex the night before meant something more to you. He had never felt more sure of anything than he did as he kissed you, only to wake up the next morning and have you rip it all away. A dirty mistake that it seemed like you couldn’t wait to forget.

---------

The first few weeks back home you spent locked away in your apartment, ignoring every phone call, every text, any attempt at contact that wasn’t Brock. You didn’t expect him to call, but you wholeheartedly wished he would, because if you could, you would take it all back. You knew that stepping onto that plane you were burning down the best bridge you had ever built, and now here you were, broken and battered, walking along the edge of steel beams as you tried to forge it back together. But you knew you couldn’t, that bridge was built by two sets of hands, not one.

It took three weeks before Holly showed up at your door, baby in tow, demanding you get dressed and come with her. You did as she asked, carefully showering for the first time in days, putting on the slightest bit of makeup to attempt at hiding the dark puffy skin under your eyes, an indication of your lack of sleep since you returned to the city.

Your head rested on the window as she drove you out of downtown and closer toward East Vancouver. You didn’t have to guess where she was taking you as the familiar scenery passed by. When she parked outside of your favorite brunch place, you sighed quietly, appreciative of her efforts even if you weren’t hungry. You waited patiently as she grabbed Gunnar, buckling him up into the stroller before walking into the restaurant. It was a small hole in the wall place, with an outdoor seating area with white metal awning, decorated in lights and ivy, and earthy atmosphere as strangers chatted away eating their breakfasts, mimosas steadily flowing.

You sat down, listening to her catch you up on things with Bo and the baby, an obvious attempt at trying to distract you from your own thoughts. You appreciated her effort, you really did, but you weren’t ready to be outside of the safety of your apartment just yet. You nodded and hummed along as you listened to her talk, feeling nauseous once your food was placed in front of you. Your mind drifting back to the time you took Brock here, and the two of you got drunk on a Sunday from mimosas, having to walk around the neighborhood for hours before sobering up completely enough to drive back home.

“Okay, something happened with Brock. I’ve gathered that much, and I’m worried about you. Talk to me.” She finally tried, a reassuring look on her face. You didn’t know if she knew the whole story, if Brock had told anyone what happened, you had to guess that he was feeling bad enough to contact Bo about it, you had really messed him up. You slipped into the story, telling Holly about how you felt, and how you hurt the best person to have ever been in your life, tears settling into your eyes, threatening to spill out as you reopened the painful wound, still fresh from the weeks before.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” You whispered to Holly, looking down at the table setting in front of you. You twirled the fork in between your fingers, food remaining untouched on your plate as you sat in the restaurant with Holly. She sighed and shook her head softly at you. You could tell by the purse of her lips and the look in her eye that she was preparing to tell you something that you likely wouldn’t want to hear. You were okay with that though because, at the end of it all, you were the one who hurt Brock. You left him in Minnesota, and while you wanted to fix it, you had to come to terms with the realization that some things are beyond repair.

Holly set her fork down, leaning into the stroller that was sitting to the right of her. You watched as she picked up Gunnar, who was fussing. You hated that your mind instantly went to Brock. Knowing that if you hadn’t have let your fears outweigh what you felt in your heart, that he would have been it for you. You knew that. Deep down you knew that it was always supposed to be him.

Brock poured his heart out to you that morning after in Minnesota, sharing the most vulnerable pieces of himself with you. All you gave him in return was nothing but lies, and the image of you packing your suitcase, going back to Vancouver without him. The worst part was that as soon as you stepped foot on that plane, you knew what you had done. You knew you had broken the only person you had ever loved, and you still didn’t stop yourself.��

It was like you were outside of your own body, watching as someone else sat on the tarmac, music softly playing in their headphones, head leaned against the airplane window. You left Minnesota as a different person, someone who was broken beyond belief, but it was at the hand of your own actions.

Holly cleared her throat, bringing your head back into the moment.

“Bo said he’s never seen him like this before and I don’t think he’ll see you, not right now.” She started, a solemn silence between you as she chose her next words carefully. You perked up at this, not knowing that Brock was back in Vancouver yet. You knew it had to be any day, with how training usually went for the team, but something about knowing he had returned and gone to Bo broke your heart even more, and you wondered if he found himself walking around the city as empty-hearted as you were.

“You know I love you, right? You’re one of my best friends. But, what you did, If I were Brock I wouldn’t forgive you either.” It was harsh, and it stung hearing it come from her lips. But you knew she was right, and if you settled into a thought where Brock had done that to you, you probably wouldn’t give him a chance either.

Your eyes welled up with tears. You avoided Holly’s gaze, bringing the sleeve of Brock’s sweatshirt that you were wearing up to wipe your eyes. It was the only thing of his you had managed to hang onto, something old from his rookie year, the 6 faded on the side, Boeser still clear on the back.

“I know.” Were the only words you could seem to find, your heart feeling heavy in your chest.

“Look, Brock loves you, right? He’s so in love with you, he has been for a long time, and God knows his heart is way bigger than all of ours. Just, give him some time.” Holly said. You tried to take her words as hopeful, but you worried deep down that you were permanently destined to live a life without him, nothing but an old sweatshirt and memories of your time together.

Brock had been feeling like the air hadn’t returned to his lungs since you left all those weeks ago. He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head, rethinking over what he said if he could have changed your mind, but most importantly why he even told you how he felt at all. He knew it was a risk to lay every card he had on the metaphorical table in front of you, but after that night on the boat, he thought he knew you would feel the same. He thought he knew you, and that it would end with your hand in his for the foreseeable future. Instead, the cards blew up in the air, disillusioned by the words you spoke, words he believed because you wouldn’t lie to him.

The worst part about it was that he wasn’t mad at you, how could he be? No person can help how they feel. A moment shared the night before, the lingering touches and your soft moans filling the room, didn’t mean to you what they did to him, and he could never have found it in his heart to be upset by that. But when you left that morning, he knew in his heart and mind that he couldn’t just go back to being friends with you. He couldn’t allow you to have any piece of him anymore, because all it did was confine his feelings back inside, shoved away for no one to experience but him. He was in love with you, and he didn’t know how to go back to being friends and make that go away. He didn’t know how to look at you without remembering how you felt beneath him, how complete he felt when his hands tangled in yours, lips exploring one another.

Brock spent those last few weeks in Minnesota trying to piece together how his life would look without you. He became a bit of a recluse, spending most of his days out on the water with his dogs, unplugged from his phone and friends, only answering if it had something to do with work. He let himself go through the motions as if it were a breakup because, in a way, it was. Losing a friend, especially when it was you, hurt him in a way that most other losses hadn’t.

You were there for him through every good or bad thing that had happened in his life since moving to Vancouver. Every win or loss, his injuries, every doubt he had as a rookie, every trade rumor, and every success. But it wasn’t just his career you had been there for, you were there through his life too. When he worried about his dad, you were the first person he would call. He smiled at the memories of you knocking on his door every time he felt anxious about his family, cookies, and wine in hand, ready to be the shoulder for him to cry on. You never questioned him or made him feel bad when he was upset. You just were you, and your comfort was all he needed to feel better.

You were such a part of his routine that it took him almost two weeks to stop opening your contact in his phone, willing himself not to call you. He hated that his first instinct most mornings was to check in on you, to see how you were feeling after all of it. He grew resentful, but only at himself for his own emotions. The resentment melted into sadness as the time for him to go back to Vancouver grew closer. He didn’t know what would happen when he came back. For the first time in his career, he dreaded going back, not because he didn’t want to play, but because it meant being back in the city where every step he took reminded him of you.

His condo felt different without your presence, and for the first time since you moved out of that building, he was grateful you no longer lived across the hall. He at least didn’t have to worry about seeing you in the elevator, or breaking his convictions and knocking on your door.

He took his time settling back in, slowly gathering any lingering items of yours and carefully placing them into a box. He’d been through breakups before, but nothing compared to losing someone like you. When he had finally rid his apartment of your belongings, he taped the box shut and set it by the door, trying to forget about it. Sometimes Coolie would sniff it, probably recognizing your smell from the items inside.

Brock settled into the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he opened the container of takeout that Elias had brought over. He fiddled with the remote, opening up Netflix to queue up the latest episode of Gossip Girl. He patted the spot next to him on the couch, motioning for Coolie to jump up. When he did, he settled in next to Brock, on top of the grey throw blanket that was draped over the cushions.

Elias took his time in Brock’s kitchen, scanning the apartment and looking at his friend. He knew Brock was miserable, and as much as Petey loved you, his loyalties were here. He carried his takeout container in one hand, the smell of the Thai food from down the street wafting into the air, two beers in his other hand and he walked to his spot on Brock’s couch. He set the beer down on the table, glass beginning to frost from the sudden change in temperature. He leaned back, eyeing the box by the front door suspiciously.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing toward the object in question. Brock stiffened, glancing over where Petey was nodding toward.

“It’s all her stuff.” he sighed, not wanting to get into the subject. Petey knew what happened, as far as Brock was concerned, they didn’t need to divulge into the details once more. What Brock needed was a distraction from all of it, and Petey was happy to be there for his friend, even finally agreeing to watch Gossip Girl, which Brock had been asking him to do for months.

The pair sat on the couch in silence, eating and drinking while watching a few episodes of the show, before Petey left to return home, and Brock drifted into his bed. When he woke up the next morning, the box was gone.

---------

It was mid-October, three months since that morning back at his home in Minnesota. The season had just started, and the rain was starting to settle into Vancouver, a grey sky covering the city most days. He found himself settling into the familiarity of life during the season, but it didn’t feel the same. He woke up most days feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart should be, mourning over a loss that he didn’t know how to comprehend. You were still there in his mind, and while over the last few months it had become less frequent, he still wasn’t able to go any substantial amount of time without thinking about you.

He pulled his hood further onto his head as the rain started to come down harder. It was late morning on a rare day off. He was looking down at his phone as he pulled the door to the coffee shop open, the creaking from the worn-out wood filling the air.

“Oh god, sorry!” A voice startled him, one that sent him spiraling down a highway of memories he had spent the last three months trying to forget. He knew it was you, the voice unmistakable.

“Oh, uhm-” You started, and then cut yourself off. The two of you frozen there in the doorway, rain coming down. He hated every moment of this, an ache is his chest resurfacing harshly the longer time stood still with you in front of him. He looked at you, noticing that your hair was shorter, your eyes not quite as bright as they were before, a small frown settling on your features. You looked sad, and like you had been sad for a long time.

Brock often wondered what it would be like to run into you again, after having not seen each other for months. He wondered if it would happen organically, a chance run-in like the situation he was in now, or if you would show up to some event, knowing that his friends were still yours. For the first time since everything happened, he felt a different emotion seeing you, his heart clouding his head with resentment for what you did, the anger at your actions finally bubbling through to the surface.

You looked at Brock and saw a fragment of the boy you knew before, the one you ripped apart without a second thought, the one who invaded your dreams every night, haunting you of your past mistakes. You could have had a beautiful thing with Brock, and you let your fears overtake your mind and broke his heart in the process. You hadn’t spoken to Brock since the day you left, only hearing fragments about how he was from Holly when she was nice enough to share. She was the only one who would talk to you, the rest of your mutual friends cutting you out for what you did. You didn’t blame them, they were Brock’s family, not yours. But you couldn’t pretend that when Elias showed up with a box of your belongings, not uttering more than the words, “Brock wanted to give these back.” that your heart didn’t collapse with your body after you closed the door, letting the sobs overtake you.

You never opened that box, not wanting to relive any of the memories trapped inside, lingering in the belongings you had left with him over the years, the gifts you had given him probably tossed haphazardly in. You knew it was what you deserved, even someone with as big of a heart as Brock couldn’t forgive you for what you did, and you had to live with the consequences of that. Instead, choosing to see him only in your dreams, or scattered around the city in memories.

You knew living in the same area you risked the possibility of running into him again, especially since you two frequented the same places, the only difference now was that you did it alone. And while you thought about it, you never knew how it would make you feel to be in the same space as him again. It felt familiar, and almost every part of you longed to touch him, to reach out and push yourself into him and fix what you broke, but looking at him only confirmed the suspicions that you had that he wanted no part of your life anymore.

You stood in the doorway of the old coffee shop unable to move, your coffee securely held in your hand as you took in his appearance. He looked tired, his beard had grown out more than it usually was, his eyes dull. Your heart ached to know that you caused this, that all Brock wanted was to give you the world and you ripped it out from under him.

The moment only lasted a few seconds, with Brock turning his body away from you, no words escaping his lips as he continued into the shop, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk in the rain. Before the door shut completely, you opened it back up, figuring that if this was the only time you’d ever see him again, at least he would know that you were sorry.

“Brock-” you tried, grabbing onto his arm. You winced softly as he shook it from your grasp, eyes cold as he looked at you.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” His voice was soft but harsh as he looked at you one last time, turning once again to leave you standing, stomach twisting, and eyes beginning to water. You’d never seen Brock so cold, and knowing you were the one that caused it broke you beyond belief.

You went home that day, the image of his face as he walked away burning in your mind as you curled up in bed and let yourself cry over the boy you were still hopelessly in love with.

Brock stood in that coffee shop for what felt like hours, agonizing over the small interaction before finally getting his coffee and leaving. He thought about it for the rest of the day, thinking of how different you looked, how you weren’t the same person he thought he knew inside and out. He thought about how maybe he was too harsh with you, seeing the broken look on your face when he said he didn’t want to talk, eyes filling with tears.

Brock went out to his balcony, sitting on one of the chairs, a place where he often went when he needed to think. You had basically become an intruder in his mind, invading his thoughts when he desperately wanted you erased. All he could think about was the summer, your hair blowing with the breeze while you sang loudly along to the radio, driving through back roads in his hometown. You were like a time capsule he couldn’t seal, instead he saw visions of you in old photographs taken on a disposable camera dancing through his mind, one by one, each a memory of him falling more in love with you. But the thing about photographs is they fade, the ink turns a different color when exposed to heat, and his confession ended up being the heat that warped the photographs of you, turning them into nothing but what was supposed to be fond nostalgia of the girl he loved.

He thought about you the rest of the week, living almost on autopilot as he shuffled himself from practice to games. His mind was so out of it, that he didn’t see a bad check coming from the Vegas player, sending his body curtailing toward the boards, head making contact with the ice as he fell. He managed to get up, limping back through the player tunnel to get looked at, every moment after that a blur.

He wished it was only that night where his game was affected, but the symptoms followed through practice the next day. He wasn’t skating as fast, he was missing calls, and fumbling over drills that were normally second nature to him. His teammates and coaches all noticed, frustrated with his lack of ability to separate his personal life from the game, but also worried that his lack of focus was going to get him seriously hurt.

Brock’s inability to disassociate from that short interaction was affecting his career, and when he spent the next game as a healthy scratch for the first time since playing in Vancouver, he was so broken that he couldn’t find the energy within himself to care.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Bo appeared at his front door, his six-month-old baby strapped to him, a hard but concerned look on his face as he let himself inside Brock’s condo.

“Sure, come in,” Brock said harshly, wanting to be alone.

Bo looked around the room, walking into the kitchen to a scene he had never seen from Brock before. There were dishes piled in the sink, unopened mail piled up on the counter, empty take out bags piled up by the recycling bin. He sighed, unstrapping Gunnar from his chest and handing him to Brock. Brock reacted quickly, taking the baby boy into his arms and walking over to sit on the couch, holding him tightly to his chest.

He distracted himself with the baby as Bo silently cleaned the kitchen. He was sitting there, letting Gunnar bite on his fingers while he waited for anything from his captain, bracing himself for what was likely to be a long conversation, especially now that Bo had taken it upon himself to clean up the mess Brock left, not bothering to do it himself.

“You need to get your shit together,” Bo said, walking back over to the couch, wiping his hands on his jeans before holding his arms out, indicating he wanted his baby back. Brock handed over Gunnar, sighing softly as he ran a hand through his hair, unwashed for two days now.

“And take a fucking shower, you look like shit.” He added, words harsh but true. Brock knew he was a mess, his beard growing out, hair slightly greasy, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his physical appearance, and he didn’t feel like it mattered, it’s not like he had anyone to impress lately anyways. He didn’t say anything, he just let his eyes follow his captain as he sat down with the baby. He cursed Bo for bringing Gunnar, knowing it was a calculated move to ease into what was going to be a serious conversation, he knew Brock loved babies, and that it would soften the harsh words that were probably moments from coming.

“Look, you’re my friend above all else, I hate seeing you like this. But I’m also your captain, and it’s my job to keep your head focussed.” Bo started, Gunnar making soft noises while he spoke. Brock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, bracing himself for the confrontation.

“I know.” Was all he managed in response.

“Holly had brunch with her a few weeks ago, she’s a wreck, Brock.” Bo softly said, hating seeing two people that he cared about hurting like this. While he was frustrated with Brock as a captain, wanting better from his teammate, he also realized that maybe right now Brock needed him as his friend.

Brock’s head shot up at that, hearing that Holly had seen you. Part of him felt a weird satisfaction that you were maybe just as messed up as he was, hurting over what happened still. Brock spent most of his time wondering why he seemingly wasn’t capable of getting over you, moving on, letting it all go. You didn’t feel the same way, and while he understood that, he didn’t understand why you left the way that you did, ripping apart the friendship that had been such a stable for both of you, or so he thought. But a small part of him, one that he wasn’t proud of, was feeling smug at the fact that you were likely not entangled with anyone else, that you were just as hurt as he was. Hearing that you were a wreck and not emotionless about it at least meant that you cared about him in some capacity, that maybe the friendship at least meant to you what it did to him before it all blew up in his face.

“Oh?” Brock questioned, unsure of if he truly wanted to hear just how bad you were doing, already feeling the guilt bubbling in his chest from moments before, his mind flashing back to the look on your face as he harshly pulled away from you, the memory causing a dull ache in his chest.

“I’m not here to tell you how to live your life, but she misses you. A lot. Holly didn’t tell me everything, and I know I don’t know fully what happened, but it might be worth hearing her out.” Gunnar started crying, interrupting Bo for a few moments while he soothed his baby, Brock mulling over the words from his friend.

Coolie came running out of the bedroom at the sound of Gunnar’s cries, a soft plush dog toy in his mouth as he jumped up to the couch, settling in near Bo and the baby, his tail slightly wagging, ready to make Gunnar feel better. Brock’s heart rate quickened, and he hated himself for his thoughts once again turning to you, an image of you holding a newborn, Coolie next to you on the couch as you rocked the baby to sleep. It scared him how you could hurt him so badly and yet he still imagined a whole life with you that would never happen because you didn’t feel the same.

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Bo,” Brock said, slowly beginning to feel like he could open up to someone. He hadn’t shared with anyone the true details of what happened between you, he never mentioned the night on the boat, or the morning after, simply telling them that something happened in Minnesota and you left.

“What happened? Why did she leave?” Bo tentatively asked, hoping that Brock felt okay enough to finally let someone in.

Brock took a deep breath, launching himself slowly into telling Bo what really happened three months ago, opening the wound that had been haphazardly stitched up with blood seeping through the bandages ever since he got back to Vancouver. Bo listened intently, never interrupting as Brock stumbled through some parts of the memories, not commenting when Brock’s voice became thick, or when he let the tears escape from his eyes, finally freeing himself of this problem he had kept locked away for months. It hurt to recount the entire event, but Brock also felt like a weight was lifting from his body as he spoke, freeing himself from the loneliness of overanalyzing each action you took and the word you said. It felt good to let someone into the mess that was his mind.

“You need to hear her out.” Was all that Bo responded with, a serious tone to his voice as he looked over at Brock cautiously, gauging what reaction might come from those words. Brock’s eyes widened a bit, a frown still evident on his face, slight hints of surprise filling his features at what Bo said. He wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I don’t know what the outcome will be, I don’t know if it will fix things between you. But this?” Bo gestured to Brock’s state, a slight dig at his heartbroken and pathetic appearance.

“It has to stop. It’s affecting your game, and your ability to function. So call her, figure it out, get the answers you need and either fix it or move on.”

Brock glared at his phone that was resting on the counter. He spent the last few hours after Bo had been there cleaning up his apartment, metaphorically piecing back together some sense of normalcy. Then he took a shower, letting himself mull over the idea of calling you, wondering if you’d even pick up the phone. He trimmed his beard, not fully shaving it, blocking out that he knew you liked his beard, remembering your fingertips on his cheek before some event he took you to. The old photograph of the memory coming into view of you saying you liked how it made him look, a soft smile on your lips as you spoke, cheeks heating up from the compliments you gave. That was the first time he remembered that he realized the things he was feeling for you weren’t what a friend would feel for another friend.

It was late fall, the Canucks annual charity dinner in full swing. You had come as Brock’s date that night, meeting most of the team for the first time. They had all heard about you before, offering knowing smiles as you entered the event with Brock’s arm around your waist. Even if Brock didn’t know how he felt, they all did. They watched as his eyes lingered on you for a little too long, how he danced with you slowly, keeping his arm securely locked on your hip as if you were the only two in the room.

Brock slowly picked up his phone, fingers tapping methodically toward your contact, something he hadn’t opened in weeks but still came naturally, a muscle memory that he never lost. He wasn’t sure if it was Bo’s words that got him to this point, or if it was him finally accepting that maybe you deserved to be heard out, but as he thought back to that first night of realizing his feelings, his mind danced through the memories fondly, them sparkling bright like the stars that night on the boat.

You had just gotten off of an entirely too long conversation with your mother, one that had your head pounding and all you could think about was the bottle of red wine sitting on your counter and the hot bath that you were going to take. Between brunch with Holly that week, seeing Brock, and your mom, you needed to take whatever energy you had left and try to relax. You grabbed the bottle, foregoing the glass as you walked into your bathroom, turning on the water as hot as you could. Maybe if you made it hot enough, you’d feel something other than the ache in your chest.

Seeing Brock felt like a figment of your imagination, and even though you knew you got the reaction that you deserved, that didn’t mean that it didn’t wreck the already fragmented pieces of your heart. Things had been hard since you left him in his bedroom, eyes wide in shock, heart burst and bleeding on his sleeve. You hadn’t slept in what felt like weeks, barely getting through the motions of each day, walking around Vancouver, and feeling him around you. You didn’t dare step foot far enough into downtown where Rogers Arena was, you couldn’t handle being near the building for fear of what it would do to you mentally.

You ignored hockey completely, tuning out the team, only hearing the bits and pieces that Holly told you the few times you had seen or spoken to her. The Canucks were too much of a tie to Brock, and you couldn’t handle watching them, seeing him on the tv, so instead, you tuned it out. But none of that compared to seeing him again, at the old coffee shop you first forged a friendship with him in, the only place you still allowed yourself to sometimes go when you needed a small taste of memories of him that were happy.

You sat in the bath until the water went cold, slowly working your way through too much wine to be acceptable for one person to drink on a Tuesday evening. You allowed yourself to cry, letting the tears silently roll down your cheeks, bubbles slowly melting away in the water, telling yourself that this was the last time you’d let yourself cry about Brock. He didn’t want anything to do with you anymore, a notion that you were now acutely aware of, his harsh words echoing in your mind with each sip coming straight from the bottle.

You get out of the bath, tossing on a pair of soft shorts and a big t-shirt, swaying into the kitchen, in a wine drunken haze. For the first time in a long time, you felt an emotion that you didn’t think you’d ever feel, acceptance. It was okay how Brock felt, it was okay that he didn’t want to hear you out, and while you still felt regret over your decision, part of you started to come around to the idea that there would be a life without Brock. Maybe it wasn’t today, but someday you were going to be able to open up those years of memories with him and they wouldn’t hurt, they’d instead be looked at fondly. Brock saw a side of you that no one else got to, and even if it all went wrong, you don’t regret sharing just a small portion of your life with him.

You tapped on your phone, connecting it to your speakers in your kitchen, turning on a relaxing playlist. Before you could realize what you were doing, you opened the cabinets, carefully pulling out the ingredients for baking soft chocolate chip cookies, something you hadn’t done in months. Baking used to always be your escape, but when you left Brock, even that stress and pain was too much to get you to pull out the mixer. The heartbreak you felt couldn’t be fixed with chocolate chip cookies, not this time. But, as you stood there, wine drunk in your kitchen with music playing softly, you finally felt like you could bake again.

You were startled when the music coming from your phone stopped, the generic ringtone indicating someone was calling now coming from the speakers. You ignored it, letting the ringing continue until it sent whoever it was to voicemail, assuming it was your mom calling again, something you didn’t have the energy for. You were finally feeling somewhat okay, you didn’t need her in your ear about fixing things with Brock for the second time that day. When the phone rang a second time, and then a third, you resolved to the fact that whoever was calling must have had something important to say.

You picked up your phone, heart in your throat as it went to voicemail a final time. You froze seeing the bubble on your home screen indicating you had three missed calls, all from Brock. His name never felt weirder to see on your screen, the emojis he put in there still present, something that used to always be on your phone but had since vanished. You couldn’t wrap your mind about why he would call, let alone call three times, but your heart feared the worst. Maybe something happened to his dad, maybe something happened to him, or the dog. You didn’t know, but when your phone lit up again for the fourth time, this time a picture of you and Brock lighting up the screen, you answered almost immediately.

“Brock?” You said, tentatively, you didn’t know what the tone of the conversation would be, and your stomach was racing with nerves.

“Yeah, uhm, hi. Hi.” He stuttered, clearly nervous to be calling you.

You gulped, sitting down on the stool by the island, legs dangling down, fingers nervously tapping on the counter. The wine you drank seemingly evaporating from your system, your mind falsely clear as you took in his voice. God, you missed hearing his voice.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, worriness present in your voice. Brock picked up on it right away, reassuring you everything was fine and that bad news wasn’t why he was calling.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He started, referring to your run-in at the coffee shop.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Brock.” You softly spoke, terrified if you said too much that he would remember that he was talking to you, and hang up.

“I do, that wasn’t fair of me to treat you that way, and I’m sorry for it.” He said, his voice was firm but still soft. You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head through the phone, picturing him, probably in his kitchen at the same place you were, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. Before you could say anything in response, he spoke again,

“I was hoping we could talk if you’re up for it?” Your eyes widened at his words, something you weren’t expecting to hear from him. Not that you expected a call from him at all, but let alone an invitation to talk.

“Now?” You asked, unsure if he meant on the phone or something else.

“If you’re free? I uhm, I got curry, from that place you like?” He offered. You couldn’t believe how small his voice sounded on the phone, so much weight held in an offer for curry, something that used to be a routine.

“I can’t drive, I had some wine.” You started, Brock exhaling in response.

“No, no, uhm, I can take an uber. Be there soon?” You said, not entirely confident in your voice or words but hopeful for what was to come.

“Yeah, yeah that works. Keycode is still the same, just, come up.” He said. The conversation felt awkward, two people who had been through so much, trying to navigate the broken pieces of a love that was almost everything.

You walked into his apartment nervously, for the first time since knowing Brock, you truly felt like you didn’t belong there. You felt as if it was something was off. Brock looked better than he did the last time you saw him, his beard was trimmed, his hair clean, and his eyes didn’t look as tired. You felt uncomfortable there, standing in his kitchen while you waited for him to speak. When he didn’t, you found yourself getting more anxious, wanting to do anything to break the silence as he looked at you.

“Brock, how did we get here?” you asked, instantly regretting the question as soon as the words slipped fom your lips. It was a question that you already knew the answer to, because it was a situation that had the blood on your hands.

Brock sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, jumping right into the discussion that had been put off for entirely too long now.

“It was never me that didn’t know what they wanted. I told you that I wanted you. I meant it. And you left. You let me have you for one night and you left.” Brock said, eyes watering. He was standing across the counter from you and all you could think about was pulling yourself into his arms and trying to make it better. But you couldn’t, you lost that right the second you walked out all those months ago. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, leaning a bit on the counter as you smiled sadly at him.

“Brock, I love everything about you. You make everything better. You make me love the things I hate about myself because you’re you. And you love them, why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” You felt like your head was spinning with each word that you spoke, your heart beginning to beat faster as you wished he could put himself inside of it, feeling every emotion you felt, trusting that what you were saying was the truth. You knew you didn’t deserve that trust, you could only hope that Brock would see past your mistake, and remember who you were.

“I’ve never been in love before, not until you. All of those feelings were only for you. And there you were, giving yourself to me and it scared me. Brock, it scared me so bad that all I knew how to do was run. And I know that’s not fair, you deserve more answers than that, you deserve someone who isn’t scared. But that’s the truth, and you deserve the truth.” Your voice was cracking as you spoke, words pouring out of your chest that you weren’t sure made sense anymore. You watched Brock carefully, trying to piece together the expressions on his face that you couldn’t decipher. You felt like you didn’t even recognize him anymore, that you were just two people who knew each other years before, and you didn’t know how a few mere months could do that to two hearts that were so closely connected.

“I just don’t understand how you can say all that, but when I told you I loved you, you left.” He said, voice cracking, tone matching yours. He ran a hand over his face, bringing his eyes to yours. He was trying to think of the right words to say, letting his mind process everything you told him. He couldn’t even focus on the fact that you just threw your heart over the table because there was a part of him that wasn’t allowing himself to believe you.

“I never would have been mad at you for not feeling the same, but you tore apart everything. Feelings aside, you picked up our friendship and threw it overboard when you decided to leave. I would have gotten over my feelings, but you decided that wasn’t enough, and that our entire friendship no longer was worth saving.” His words were harsh, cutting you deep because you didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his friendship. You were standing on the edge of the boat, trying to reel in all of your emotions and Brock came crashing into you like a wave in a storm, and every fight or flight instinct had you thinking the best course of an option was to throw yourself overboard.

“Brock you were everything to me. I fell in love with you almost a year ago. You were everything I ever wanted and then it happened and it was so good that it scared me, and I fucked it all up. I let every insecurity tell me that it could never work.” Your voice breaking, desperately trying to make him believe what you were saying. If this was the last time you saw him, you needed him to know you loved him. Maybe that was selfish, but after all this time you still did, and after what you did, he deserved the whole truth.

“I just need you, to be honest with me.” Brock sighs. Your words should have been enough, and his heart and head were colliding as he tried to figure out what to do. He hated seeing you cry, he hated that he was in a way doing to you what you did to him by letting you release every feeling you had, offering next to nothing in return. But, another part of him felt like it was fair, and that he shouldn’t feel bad for making you give him answers. He spent months trying to get over you, trying to comprehend how one night made everything go so wrong, and maybe the answers would settle the battle in his heart and he could finally forgive you.

“Honest about what, Brock? About how I’ve spent every day since thinking about how I let go of the best thing I ever had? About how I painfully relieve what it felt like landing back in Vancouver knowing you were thousands of miles away hurting because of me? About how I’m still so madly in love with you that it's just aching in my chest I can’t get rid of no matter how hard I try?”

“Did you regret it? Leaving?” Brock whispered.

“The moment I got to the airport, I haven't stopped regretting it since.” The tears were freely falling down your cheeks. You watched in confusion as Brock walked to you, coming closer than he’d been in a long time. Before you could process his next moves, he took your face in his hands, pressing your lips together in a kiss.

You responded quickly, instinctively kissing him back, it was different than last time, probably because of the intensity, both of you trying to communicate your love for each other in the moment. Brock deepened the kiss, lifting you up and setting you on the counter, hands digging into your thighs. You could feel all of him, and you wanted this feeling to last forever.

Brock pulled back, running his thumb along your cheek where a few tears were still there.

“Brock-“ you started.

“We have to do this right, I need to know you’re in, that you want to be with me. For real this time”

“I’m in, Brock. You have my whole heart if you want it.” You smiled.

He leaned in, kissing you once more. When he pulled back, he pressed soft kisses all over your cheeks, trailing down your neck before pulling you in close to him, holding you tight.

“I love you.” You said, unsure of if he would be ready to reciprocate, but you didn’t mind. You would wait for Brock for as long as it took if it meant that things would be okay, that you would be together.

“I love you too, always have.” When he smiled, it was bright, eyes crinkling, cheeks slightly flushed from the shared kisses. You would do anything to keep that smile on his face all the time.

“By the way, I owe Petey $100 now.” He laughed.

“Oh? Why’s that.” You hummed, threading your hands through his hair.

“He knew we’d end up together I guess.”

“Seems like a good investment.” You teased.

“Worth every penny.” He agreed, dipping his head down and kissing you softly once more. The feeling of his lips on yours was something you knew you’d never grow tired of, knowing that Brock was it for you, and you’d love him as long as he let you.

#brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fic #brock boeser story #canucks story #canucks imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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honeymooneyy · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day

context: Remus has been out since the beginning of the year, Sirius realized he likes Remus over winter break, it’s now valentine’s day

James knew it was silly to be upset that Lily had a date for Valentine’s day.

They weren’t dating - they were barely even friends. But watching Benjy Fenwick give Lily a box of pink chocolates during breakfast pulled at his heartstrings and he couldn’t help but sigh. Remus glanced at him before following his gaze towards Lily who was now laughing at something Benjy said.

“Lily didn’t say anything to me about liking Benjy, it might just be a date because it’s Valentine’s day,” Remus comforted, bumping his shoulder against James’. “I can ask her about it later?”

James smiled weakly, “It doesn’t matter, she wouldn’t like me either way.”

“She’s warming up to you!” Peter weighed in from across the table. “She’s your partner in Potions.”

“That was in the beginning of the year, not much has happened since.”

“Maybe next year, mate.” Sirius just shrugged, glancing back at Benjy once more. “I thought he way gay.”

“Sirius!” Remus hissed, glancing around to see if anyone heard. “You can’t just say that!”

Sirius turned to him with wide eyes, “But I thought he was! ‘S not a bad thing, I didn’t know he wasn’t.”

James snorted at their exchange, thankful for their antics as it improved his mood just a touch. Though he had been kidding around, Sirius caught James’ eye in a silent question and he offered him a smile in return.

And though he tried to convince himself he doesn’t really care that much, James couldn’t help but watch as Lily left the Great Hall, her long red hair swishing with every step she took. Benjy was still next to her, and they seemed to be in some sort of intense conversation, but James decided to ignore him, instead focusing on her bright smile. As long as she was happy.

Thankfully, Valentine’s day had fallen on a Saturday this year - so James could go to his dorm and not sulk instead of watching couples make out in every class. Deep down, he was glad none of his friends had dates, they could all be lonely together.

Even though Sirius and Remus had been hopelessly pining, he knew they wouldn’t resort to making out in the dorm, so he was safe. And Peter, he knew he could always count on Peter to be mindful about stuff like that, even if he had no one to kiss.

He had totally not been moping on his bed after dinner when Peter plopped down on the foot of his bed with a grin.

When Peter didn’t say anything he asked, “What’s up, Pete?”

“I know you’re sad, or not sad, or whatever. But that doesn’t mean we have to do nothing today! Remus had an idea, wanna hear it?” Peter asked hopefully, blue eyes twinkling.

James couldn’t say no to him. “What is it?”

“So you know that passageway that leads to Honeydukes? We were thinking of sneaking out and getting some fun stuff!” Peter waggled his eyebrows. “Like firewhiskey fun?”

James brightened at the idea, “I like the direction this is going in. We going now?”

Peter shrugged, “It only really takes two of us to make the trip. It’s easy for me to sneak in and get what we need, and someone to help carry it back. Remus volunteered.”

James narrowed his eyes at this, leaning back to rest on his palms. “Why are you even asking me, sounds like you’ve got it all figured out?”

“We knew you’d agree,” Peter assured, patting his shoulder and scrambling off the bed. “I think Sirius is heading back, we’ll be back soon!”

True to his word, as Peter left the dorm, Sirius slipped in. In his arms were various different snacks for the night, and James smiled at the sight of his favorites. He helped Sirius lay them out on the floor, almost like a little picnic, sorting them out by each item.

“Is this all because Lily has a date with someone else? I promise I’m not that hung up over it, we’re barely friends and it’s just a silly crush.”

Sirius just laughed, tossing his dark hair over his shoulder. “Nah, we wanted to have some fun. Who knows what we’ll be doing for Valentine’s day next year. We ought to spend it with each other while we still can.”

“And?”

“Okay, and you looked downright miserable. Merlin, you’re whipped for Lily,” Sirius caved in despite the smile playing at his lips. He went back to arranging the snacks, shaking the hair out of his eyes.

“Says you,” James prodded back at him. “Oh Moony, I love your vinyls, of course I’ll sing to you.”

Sirius cheeks burned red at his words, “I thought you were asleep, you wanker. He was sad and tired and in pain, I was being a good friend.”

“Right, because I sing to you in French when you’re sad?”

“Why are we talking about me, what happened to Lily? You never had a problem talking about her for hours and hours and hours before.”

“Exactly, we’ve heard enough about Lily. Anything new about Remus?” James propped up his face on his palm, watching Sirius.

“I dunno. He’s still gay, I think that’s good,” Sirius started, obviously uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. “He’s not hanging out with a guy for Valentine’s day.”

“You are so bad at this,” James groans at the lack of juicy information.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to talk to you about boys!” Sirius exclaims. “Can’t exactly tell you about his looks and stuff.”

“I have eyes. Remus is attractive,” James nods motivatingly. “C’mon, just tell me, I wanna know.”

“Fine.” Sirius pauses, collecting his thoughts before chewing on his lower lip. “This is weird, but he’s gotten a lot more attractive since I realized I liked him. Like, he’s always been hot, ugh it’s so weird to say that out loud, but I dunno it’s different now. Maybe he’s always been like this and I just didn’t think about it?”

“Mmhm.”

“I noticed he blushes a lot nowadays. I can’t tell if it’s because of me or if it’s just something he always used to do and I didn’t realize,” Sirius murmured before mirroring James and leaning his face against his palms. “It’s really cute though.”

“He doesn’t blush around me,” James smiled suggestively. “Maybe it’s something he only does around you.”

Sirius didn’t really know what to say to that and kind of just stared at him before shrugging. “Blushing doesn’t mean he likes me. I mean, in the end, he’s my best friend. Anything I look into could be normal. I mean, you and I sleep in the same bed a lot, so what’s different about Remus and I doing it.”

“I don’t sing to you in french, and he doesn’t read to me when I can’t sleep,” James reminds him with a pointed stare.

“Oh my god, back at it with the singing? He said he liked it and it was after the moon, it wasn’t like that.”

“You were in his bed with him and were singing to him.” James enunciates every word. “Are you blind?”

Sirius swiped at his glasses, effectively knocking them off his head. “Says you!”

Huffing, James grabs for his glasses and puts them back on, pushing back his dark hair. “Not fair. That was dirty.”

“Oh hush, you drama queen.” Sirius rolls his eyes but it’s all in good fun. “Okay, I talked about Remus, now you tell me whatever it is about Lily that’s bugging you.”

James finally gave in to his best friend. “Okay fine. I thought things were going okay, y’know? Like, she wanted to be my Potions partner at the beginning of the year. And I tried not to be overbearing or anything and I dunno, I thought we were kinda friends? And then she kind of just stopped?”

“Stopped?”

“Like, she doesn’t ignore me. But she doesn’t seem much interested anymore. In being friends, I gave up on the whole dating thing for now. And then Benjy just comes in and they hit it off like right away. Kind of hurt, I dunno.”

Sirius ponders what he said, nodding a bit. “I’m not sure, honestly, girls are kind of confusing. Moony’s really good with it, Peter too, his advice is the best. Maybe you can ask them when they’re back? There’s gotta be a reason, I don’t think she’d just shut you out for no reason.”

“I guess,” James agrees, but he doubts they can say anything to make this situation better. Either way she doesn’t want to be his friend.

Remus and Peter worked fast, because soon enough they were back with armfuls of drinks. Not all of them were alcohol, and James spotted a couple butterbeers in the mix. The weirdest though was this bright pink bottle Remus had tucked in the fold of his arm.

“Did you get a love potion?” Sirius questioned, jumping to his feet to inspect the bottle.

“No, it’s just a normal drink.”

“But it’s pink!” Peter chipped in, enthusiastically. “Isn’t the bottle cool?”

James smiled at his excitement, “Yeah, it’s cool, Pete.”

Soon enough they had all sorted out the drinks and food and were lounging about the floor. A game of truth or dare had started up only to be shot down because there wasn’t much the boys wanted to know about one another for the truths. This time, there was more than one bottle of firewhiskey so the boys each had one, and it was working wonders.

Peter had been telling some story when he ended up mentioning Lily, before turning to James with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, mate.”

“You guys are horrible,” James groaned. “Acting like we just got divorced or something. I’m fine!”

Remus shrugged, “It’s okay not to be fine. You’ve liked her forever, it hurts.”

James felt as if he wasn’t just talking about Lily but didn’t say much about it. Instead he spilled the thought that’s nagging at him for the past couple days.

“Do you think it’s because I’m-” James gestured to his face.

The boys exchanged looks, ones filled with clear confusion.

“You’re not ugly,” Peter finally spoke up, though his statement sounded more like a question.”

“No, I know I’m not ugly,” James blew a breath out, dropping his head back against the footboard of the bed he was leaning against. “I meant that I’m not white.”

A hush fell over the group at his words.

“I’m not saying she’s racist, or something,” James rushed to add in. “But I dunno, sometimes I think she’d give me a chance if I wasn’t brown.”

“I don’t think it’s your race, more you being a prat,” Remus assured him. “I don’t think Lily cares about that sort of stuff.”

James’ voice seemed small when he spoke, “Every guy she’s ever liked or been with was white. It doesn’t matter how attractive I am.”

Sirius had scooted over next to him and threw an arm over his shoulder, squeezing his arm. “I think you’re overthinking this a bit. I mean, Mary’s black and they’re friends!”

“Yeah, well she’s not going to date Mary, is she?” James shrugged off Sirius’ arm. “I’m not overthinking this. Tons of people don’t like people like me, it’s just a fact. I can’t ignore it.”

Peter who had been quiet this whole time finally spoke up. “If she doesn’t like you because of your skin color, then you’re not missing out. Lily’s awesome, but she doesn’t deserve you, if that’s why.”

“See! Peter always has good advice about stuff like this!” Sirius points out, bumping his shoulder against James’.

“I guess.” James just shrugged, eager to change the subject. “Anything new with you, Peter?”

He began another story about something he overheard some fourth years talking about, and while James tried his hardest to listen, the alcohol and time weren’t on his side. At first, he decided that lying down and listening to Peter might make it easier, but it did the opposite. WIthin minutes his eyes had slid shut, face nestled in the crook of his arm.

“Did he just fall asleep in the middle of my story?” Peter asked, thoroughly baffled. He leaned forward and was about to prod his forehead when Remus smacked his hand away.

“Let him be. He’s having his own problems, let him sleep.”

Peter agreed wordlessly, and Sirius scooted further away to not wake him up while talking.

“Remus, you got an eye on anyone?” Peter asked, turning his attention towards him. “I haven’t heard you mention anyone.”

Remus just shrugged wordlessly, and Sirius scanned his face for any signs of him lying.

“No one?” Sirius questioned, his eyes zeroing in on the way Remus was fidgeting with the edge of his sweater.

“Nah, no one. I promise,” Remus assured, raising his eyes to Sirius’. Sirius didn’t pull his away, silently challenging him. They stared for a solid thirty seconds before Remus broke it off, instead glancing at Peter.

“What about you Peter? How’s your love life going?”

Sirius tried his best to look at Peter but everytime he closed his eyes he could envision Remus’ warm eyes boring into his one, an eyebrow raised challengingly. Drunk Remus had a lot more confidence than sober Remus. As Peter began talking, Remus shimmied around before ending up lying on the floor with an arm behind his head, eyes trained on Peter.

“Sometimes, I think I’ll never get my first kiss,” Peter sighed, pursing his lips. “It’s already fifth year, and I’ve never kissed anyone. I feel like it’s even more embarrassing the longer I go without it.”

“James didn’t kiss anyone till Halloween,” Sirius supplied, trying to comfort him but it had no effect. “I don’t think it matters.”

“But he kissed someone! What if I never kiss anyone, ever?” Peter covered his face with his hands with a groan. “I’m going to be seventy and still waiting for my first kiss.”

“I’ll kiss you,” Remus offered nonchalantly, sitting up. “I’m good at kissing.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he shook his head furiously, “N-no. Gay people are cool and all, but I’m not gay. No offense.”

Remus snorted at the fact that he was apologizing for being straight. “Kissing a boy doesn’t make you gay. Think of it as practice so you don’t embarrass yourself when you kiss a girl you like.”

Sirius looked between the two of them incredulously, “Peter, you’re not actually considering this are you?”

Peter chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating it. “Er, I mean, it would be fast right? And no one would really know…”

“That’s the spirit!” Remus grinned, seeming way too happy to help. He sat up properly, shifting around to perch on his heels.

“No tongue, okay?” Peter looked awfully scared, but he crawled closer to Remus. “And do it really fast.”

“Quit acting like you’re getting a shot,” Remus rolled his eyes before leaning in to place his lips on Peter’s.

Remus didn’t touch Peter’s face or anything, but he did put a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. He didn’t use tongue, but it definitely wasn’t a quick kiss. Sirius hated the way he couldn’t look away from the two of them, and honestly wasn’t quite sure what to feel - on one hand, it was the hottest thing he’s ever seen, on the other hand, he wished it was him who Remus was kissing.

When Remus pulled away, he was smirking, looking very proud of himself. Peter was bright red and he leaned back with wide eyes, before returning back to his spot on the floor. He rubbed his lips against each other before shooting Remus a scared look again.

“I think some of his gay rubbed off on me,” Peter whispered, a blush still painting his cheeks.

Even Sirius had to laugh at this.

“What, was it that good?” Remus quirked an eyebrow, and his whole composure about it was so attractive - the way he had been so confident about his skills and how he had taken charge and, Merlin, the way he smirked afterward. Sirius couldn’t pull his eyes away, and then Remus was turning to look at him, catching his gaze. “You want one too?”

Sirius immediately shook his head, cheeks heating up. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. See, Pete, am I not a good kisser?” Remus turned his attention back to Peter who wasn’t quite as red anymore.

“Well, I have nothing to compare it to,” Peter began but at Remus’ glare he shook his head, “Er, yeah. You are.”

Remus grinned triumphantly, lying down on his back again with his hands crossed behind his head. The position flexed his arms and Sirius was once again staring. He knew he was being painfully obvious, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Remus was so attractive he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do this.

Peter broke the silence, “I think I’m going to bed. Should we just leave James there?”

The three glanced at James who was sprawled on the floor snoring.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna carry him into his bed,” Sirius decided, leaning over to pluck James’ glasses off his face. He folded them up and set them on the nearest table.

“Cool, night guys,” Peter mumbled, stumbling over to his bed and shutting the curtains as the boys echoed him.

Remus made no move to get up so Sirius nudged his leg with his foot. When he didn’t reply, Sirius crawled over to his side, “Hellooo.”

This time Remus just hummed sleepily so Sirius layed down onto the floor next to him, stretching out to stretch a bit. The plush carpet of the floor welcomed Sirius and he let out a content sigh at how comfortable the position was, no wonder Remus didn’t want to get up. Barely a minute passed before he grew bored, and turned on his side to face Remus, propping up his head on his hand. His dark hair fell into his eyes and he wrinkled his nose at it, as if it would help.

“Stop staring at me,” Remus mumbled without opening an eye.

Sirius scowled at this. “You can’t even see me. How do you know if I’m staring or not?”

“Magic.”

“Oh, shove off,” Sirius groaned, smacking Remus’ shoulder causing him to laugh.

His laugh was soft as to not wake up the others, including James who was barely feet away from them, but was still joyful and it made Sirius smile. Remus’ face relaxed as he quieted down and he looked so utterly content that Sirius wished he could take a photo. It wasn’t often that he got to witness Remus so carefree and just simply existing, and Sirius reveled in it.

“You’re still staring,” Remus reminded, a cocky smile pulling at his lips that made Sirius’ stomach flip. “Something on my face?”

Sirius couldn’t be bothered to deny it, instead he brushed a finger against Remus’ cheekbone. “Freckles.”

Usually Remus’ freckles faded as the cold crept in and would’ve been long gone by a normal February. Yet somehow, they had reappeared, lighter than in summer but still present, dusting his cheeks and nose.

Remus hummed, “We took a trip to Spain over winter break and I found a spell to stop the fading.”

At his words Sirius realized that he hadn’t been this close to Remus since long before winter break and that it had taken him a month and half to notice. Despite the fact that it took him so long, he loved them. Remus’ freckles were one of his favorite features about him, and to have them all year long made his smile grow.

“They’re like constellations,” Sirius mused, letting his finger drift from Remus’ nose to his temple. Though the effects of the firewhiskey were fading, it still gave him a small confidence boost to even think of reaching out and touching Remus like that. He knew that Remus wouldn’t be so willing to be studied if it wasn’t for the alcohol.

“See yourself?” Remus still had his eyes shut and the dull lighting of the room cast shadows of his eyelashes onto his cheekbones.

Sirius squinted his eyes at the freckles, mentally going through every constellation he knew. He finally arrived at one and traced it out, “There’s Cepheus.”

Remus didn’t flinch back but his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Sirius, pupils blown out to adjust to the lack of light. Sirius realized with a start that his finger was absentmindedly tracing Remus’ face still and retracted his hand sheepishly.

“Er, I should get to bed.” Sirius stood abruptly, turning towards his bed to avoid Remus’ eyes. “Night.”

He had just sat down onto his bed and was about to pull the curtains shut when Remus called out his name, having stood up from the floor and hovering near his own bed. But when Sirius turned his questioning stare towards Remus he just swallowed.

“Never mind. Goodnight.”

The exchange was weird and Sirius wanted to ask what he was going to say but decided against it. Something about Remus’ gaze was unnerving, he seemed almost scared?

What could Remus possibly be scared of?

#marauders #marauders era #jily #jily fic #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #valentines day #james potter x lily evans #remus lupin x sirius black

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Gone Hunting - c. 18 - Daryl Dixon

Summary: You mention to Daryl that your mom wants you out by graduation and the first night of your hunting weekend begins.

A/N: This chapter is just them spending time together...

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

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Beth pushed the door to the diner open, three steps ahead of Hershel, eager to grab her favorite corner booth for her weekly ‘daddy/daughter’ date. He kept a day set aside for each of his children to spend time with him alone and Wednesdays were Beth’s. She waved to Patricia as she headed to her booth, stopping short when she recognized the young man sitting in the booth just before theirs, having dinner.

“Hi!” She slid in across from him, wide smile on display.

Daryl looked up from his food, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the sight of the kid at his table. “Can I help you?”

“You were at the graduation party.” She said, explaining that she had seen him kissing you down by the barn when she was playing by the oak tree. “Are you dating now?”

“Beth,” Hershel tore his youngest daughter’s attention away from Daryl, “why don’t we eat, leave Mr. Dixon to his dinner.”

“Evening Reverend,” he said, nodding to him.

Beth slid back out of the booth, waving at Daryl as she walked over the coveted corner booth. Hershel lingered for a moment, “heard ya got into a bit of a scuffle with Shane Walsh at my daughter’s graduation party?”

“He minded his own business, wouldn’t a been a scuffle at all.” He said, jaw tense. He’d let a lot of people get away with giving him a lot of shit over the years but he wasn’t about to let anyone suggest that what happened was his fault. Especially not when you had gotten hurt.

“Listen,” Hershel said, still lingering at the booth, “I know you been spending time with my daughter’s friend. I just wanna be sure you got her best interest in mind.”

“I ain’t doing anything ‘sides eating my dinner.”

“Evening Reverend Greene,” you said, coming up beside him at Daryl’s booth. Hershel looked over at you as if you had interrupted his train of thought, quickly recovering with a smile.

“How’re you doing?” He asked, accepting the hug you offered, rubbing your back before stepping closer to his own booth, catching Beth’s attention.

“Real good,” you replied, shooting Daryl a smile as you said it, “you two want some drinks before menus?”

“I want a milkshake!” Beth piped up, getting out of the booth to give you a hug. You wrapped your arm around her, pulling her against your side.

“What kind of milkshake do you want?” You asked.

She scrunched up her nose, frowning as she considered the few flavors that Patricia offered in the way of milkshakes. Finally her eyes settled on Daryl again, who’d gone back to eating his dinner. “What flavor do you think I should get?” She asked, lifting her foot to prod the vinyl of the booth.

Daryl looked over at her, “ya gotta go with chocolate,” he replied, glancing up at you for a moment before talking to Beth again, “just don’t let this one get ‘er hands on it, she’ll drink the whole thing.”

“I will not!” You pouted, giving him your best attempt at a glare.

Beth giggled, smiling at Daryl as she nodded her head, “okay, chocolate it is.”

You pushed her shoulders, guiding her back over to her booth, “lets go, dinner time.”

She waved at Daryl as she walked away, smiling even wider when he waved back. You promised to be back with menus before leaving to get their drinks. The diner wasn’t very full, the Wednesday dinner hour really only attracting older couples and a few single people grabbing meals at the end of the day but it was slow, just you and Amy on tonight since Lori wasn’t feeling well.

You circled back with menus and drinks for Hershel and then pit stopped at Daryl’s table, stealing a fry off his plate as you sat down across from him. “Rick tell you Lori’s baby shower is coming up?” You asked, nabbing another fry.

Daryl poked your hand with his fork this time, “nah, doesn’t say much about it other than being excited.” He replied, “why?”

“Just wondered...Lori invited me but I'm not sure what to get her.” You didn’t think that Lori would invite Daryl, or even that she would let Rick have Daryl around at all but there was a small part of you that kind of thought it’d be nice to go together. Maybe a little wishful, but nice.

“I ain’t shopping for baby stuff with ya.”

“You afraid people will talk?” You teased, leaning against the table.

His cheeks turned red, the color staining all the way up to his ears and down his neck, “Don’t ya got work?”

Otis seemed to be on Daryl’s side, calling an order up for your side of the diner and forcing you back to work. You stole one more fry, turning to stick your tongue out at Daryl as you headed around the counter to get the meal. It wasn’t unusual for Daryl to drive you home from work but he never came inside and definitely never came early. You’d been surprised when he showed up at the diner, walking in and sitting down in your area without saying anything. The surprise hadn’t lasted long, Otis mentioning to you that he’d suggested to Daryl that stopping by might be a good idea.

“Saw Shane in here yesterday looking for you, so when I stopped by Dale’s earlier to get an oil change, I told Daryl about it, Patty said you two are sweet on each other and I’ve never known him to cause any trouble, not like his brother. Made me feel better thinking he’d be here in case that Walsh boy tried stopping in.” Otis had told you when you put Daryl’s order in. “Tell your boy to bring us some venison too, heard he was going hunting.”

“I’m taking the weekend off to go with him.” You had mentioned when Otis put in the request.

“Tell him to watch his back.” Otis teased, leaning out the window separating the kitchen and the diner, “ya hear that Dixon, you watch your back with this one hunting.” He called.

“Will do,” he replied, nodding his head to Otis in agreement.

Patricia was less enthusiastic about you going hunting with Daryl, a weekend alone together, but she said nothing about it to you. And if she said anything to her husband, he said nothing to you.

Daryl finished dinner before you finished your shift, taking the book you offered him from your backpack and sitting there reading quietly as if he was unbothered having to wait around another hour for you. Beth kept peeking at him throughout dinner, and twice waved when he looked up at her. You passed a few times, always stopping if you had a minute to spare and bringing him coffee once on your way around the diner.

When Beth and Hershel left you were clocking out in the back but Beth stopped to say bye to Daryl while Hershel paid, telling him she would see him around as if they were friends.

“I’ll see ya ‘round kiddo.” Daryl promised.

“Alright,” you sighed, coming over and sitting next to him as Beth and Hershel left the diner, “I’m clocked out and all yours.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek, watching him flush.

“Lucky me,” he replied, doing his best to sound sarcastic though the slight uptick of a smile wasn’t missed by you. “You gotta be home?” He asked as the two of you stood, heading for the door.

“No, my mom thinks I’m staying at Tara’s since we got half-days...told me I better be looking for a place after graduation anyway.” You replied, “guess my time is up at home.”

“Where ya supposed ta stay?”

“I don’t know, Tara’s dad said he doesn’t mind me staying there but not sure I wanna be living there all the time...I’m gonna look for something.” You shrugged, climbing in the passenger seat of his truck and letting him shut the door after you.

He got in the driver’s side, starting the engine, “yer welcome to stay at mine, ain’t anything special though.”

“I don’t know...you’re there.” You replied, smiling when he scoffed.

The cabin in the woods was exactly that. And old cabin that Daryl’s great grandfather had built back in the early 1900s for his family to go hunting. It was proper hunting log cabin. Nestled back in the woods off a dirt path that made it almost invisible unless you were right on top of it. Daryl pulled the truck around back, cutting the headlights and engulfing everything in the pitch black of night. You knew you shouldn’t have insisted on stopping for dinner, especially after the late start, but you were starving.

“This is usually like, the part of the movie when people realize they’re gonna get killed.” You mentioned, getting out of the truck and looking around at the woods as if you could actually see them.

Daryl didn’t seem bothered by the dark as he got out, grabbing the bags and his crossbow before walking you to the door, “I ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“What if there’s a serial killer in the woods?” You asked, following Daryl into the house.

He dropped the bags by the door and lit the lantern hanging at the wall. “I been coming here since I was a kid, ain’t ever seen a serial killer. Be dead if I had.”

“You’d be dead or he’d be dead?”

“He’d be dead.” Daryl replied, “I’m a good aim.”

“I believe it.”

The inside of the cabin wasn’t anything special. Old furniture, limited electricity, two small bedrooms off the living room, and, “tell me I’m missing the bathroom.”

“It’s outside.” Daryl replied, seemingly unbothered by saying so as he started putting food in the small refrigerator.

“Outside as in...” you trailed off, standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, waiting for him to offer a further explanation, one that would bring this cabin further into the 21st century.

“There’s an outhouse in the back.”

“Daryl Dixon, you did not bring me to a cabin in the literal woods with a toilet outside.” You replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ain’t that big a deal, I come out here all the time.”

“Well I’m not going out there alone, just FYI...” you muttered, heading back into the room you’d claimed for yourself.

The night in the cabin was a lot colder than you expected it to be in May. You had assumed the weather would be warming up but it seemed like a chill had set in around the cabin and you woke up in the middle of the night, room pitch black, freezing under the blankets that Daryl had given you.

You sat up for a moment, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, carefully stepping out of bed. The wooden floor creaked beneath your feet, as cold as the rest of the room, and you walked out of the bedroom, going to the door next to yours, knocking.

“Daryl?” You whispered, knocking on the door. “Daryl?”

Footsteps and then the door opened, Daryl standing there in pajama pants, rubbing his eyes. “What’re ya doing up?”

“I’m freezing.”

“The walls ain’t insulated, ya need another blanket?” He asked.

Another blanket was not what you had in mind when you woke up and forced yourself out of bed in the middle of the night. “I was thinking I could come in?” You suggested.

“Come in?” He repeated.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “no heat’s better than body heat...right?”

Daryl narrowed his eyes at you though it was too dark for you to really tell at all. “I didn’t invite ya up fer that.” He clarified, as if maybe you had misinterpreted him wanting to spend time with you as something else.

You shrugged, you were no blushing virgin and you doubted he was either but that wasn’t why you’d knocked on the door. If he had wanted to, you’d have few objections considering how it’d been that you’d been pining over him, since before Halloween and it was nearly the end of the school year. But really, you were just cold, and your first thought was getting warm. Particularly, getting warm by being close to him.

“I just wanna lay with you.” You replied, watching as he pushed the door open further as if those had been the magic words. You stepped inside past him, beginning to walk around the left side of the bed when he grabbed your hand.

“That’s my side.”

“Fine.” You huffed, changing your route to the other side.

The bed was old, just as uncomfortable as yours, but there was still that distinct feeling of warmth beneath the covers as you got in, burrowing down under them and getting as close to Daryl as he’d let you. If there was anywhere you were opposites it was in the amount of physical affection you had to give versus him. He tensed when you rested your head on his chest and wound and arm around his waist. You tried to shift further onto your side and felt his hand on your hip, maneuvering your leg over his to make both of you more comfortable.

“Ya ain’t got pants on?” He whispered, realizing he was touching your bare skin.

“No, I’m just wearing a shirt. I always do.” You insisted.

“Now wonder yer cold, ain’t even trying ta stay warm.” He grumbled as if the chill was entirely your fault.

“I am trying to stay warm! What do you think I’m doing in here?” You pinched his side and he let go of your hip to smack your hand. “Hey!” You huffed, changing the subject, “you remember when I fell asleep at your house at Thanksgiving?”

“Course. Still haven’t given me those clothes back.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, trying to see him in the dark as he turned his head to look at you, “Is that all you remember?”

“Nah, just figured I was due to hassle ya, considering yer always giving me a hard time.” He replied.

“I knew it then you know? That I wanted to be with you.” You admitted, not so shy about it or worried that he would kick you out of bed for saying so. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I mean, I knew it at the party, when I bummed a cigarette off you and you let me sit outside with you.”

“I didn’t let ya do nothing, ya invited yerself.” He replied.

“Yeah, cause I was trying to flirt with you!”

“I knew what ya were doing.” Daryl said, “get some sleep, hunting starts early, deer ain’t gonna wait for chitchat.”

“Fine.” You kissed his shoulder one more time and laid your head down, closing your eyes. “When did you know?”

A heavy groan sounded, “When did I know what?”

“That you liked me?”

“Why’s it matter?” He asked.

“Cause I wanna know. When were you like ‘heart eyes everytime you looked at me’.”

“Still waiting on it.”

“Daryl!” You pinched his side again and he smacked your hand.

“Quite doing that, yer more annoying than my brother.” He replied. It was quiet for a moment, complete silence in the room and you were sure Daryl was focusing on going back to sleep when he finally spoke up again. “When I saw ya at the gas station with that kid Glenn.” He admitted, “now go to sleep.”

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#georgia series #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon au #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead au #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #twd au #twd fanfic #twd fic #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #collecting stories imagine

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thestarsoutofyourwindow · 3 years

Text

The Doctors and a S/O that loves snow..

(1-13) (Except 8 and War)

Summary: Just the Doctors reactions to a s/o that likes snow, sprinkled with what they think about snow. Exactly what it says on the tin :)

Warnings: none!

It suffices to say that The First Doctor is pleasantly surprised. He has not experienced a lot of snow, if any, either. He is happy to get to spend an evening or two in the winter weather; if not for too long. After a few hours, it begins to bore him. You certainly won't catch him goofing about in the snow. No sir. Not at all.

The Second Doctor, the ball of energy he is, would love to spend any amount of time with you. If anything, he's more excited than you are. Oh, you like snow? So does he! He might have no clue why it's so cool, but he trusts your judgement! Is an absolute sucker for games and goofing about, whether he admits it or not/

Unlike his previous incarnations, The Third Doctor is an indoor guy. He'd much rather be wrapped up warm in the library and watch the snowfall. However, he will spend the entire snow day with you, whether you're running about outside or curled up inside with him. He likes seeing you happy, and would probably take it as an excuse to show you what a bubble looks like when freezing.

-- The Fourth Doctor is the king of winter outfitting. Don't ask him why he has so much cold-weather apparel. He'll only ramble about how everyone gets cold. He will chase you with a pair of gloves or a spare scarf if you insist on spending the day outside. If anything, he's just glad to see you happy. He's also most likely to make a snowman with you.

== Hear me out: the Fifth Doctor and the family-sized crew on a snow-covered planet. The moment you land, Tegan is teaching Adric and Nyssa how to build a snow fortress. Five is just happy that everyone is having fun, and will join in with you. Let's be honest, you'd drag him into it anyway, but let him have the illusion of control. His favourite thing is by far the hot chocolate after all of the snowball fights and snowmen armies you constructed.

-- The Sixth Doctor thinks all this snow malarkey is a bit overrated. That is until he sees how immensely excited you were about it. "No i didn't say that, I think snowball fights are super fun, shut up peri." He actually gets super worried about your health. After an hour he'll usher you inside to warm up. Whenever you feel a bit sad, you and the Doctor just so happen to turn up in a winter wonderland. Curious.

-- The unfortunate Seventh Doctor has gotten into one too many accidental snowball fight as it is. As much as he would prefer to sit inside, he'd probably kick a little snow at you, and things would just slowly escalate. He always wins though, so be warned.

-- After the remark about humans getting excited over the stupidest stuff; Nine spends the day smiling like an idiot as he thinks about said excitement. He will try to team up with you on snowball fights, (I advise you taking the offer before Jack does, or else you're dead meat). He'd be the sort to sit inside and play video games with everyone, rather than be out in the cold. If you drag him out, he'll make up for it by shoving his cold hands under your collar- in hopes of freezing you to death.

-- Ten would be so surprised, but he jumps at the opportunity to mess around. He is satisfied doing anything you feel like dragging him into. He'd make persistent snow jokes and enjoys random little games you'd want to play. He takes you to places with snow and would take you to frost fairs on thousands of planets. He's not the type to sit around inside, but if you like to, he can find something to do to occupy himself.

-- Your child-like joy sparks something in the Eleventh Doctor. Love of snow is something the both of you can share. He can't stop taking you to snowy places, except this Doctor likes unusual types of snow. The snow that falls up, bubblegum flavoured snow, naturally rainbow snow. It eventually becomes a ritual for the two of you to have a snow adventure once every four trips. You always have a coat on the ready in the console room.

-- "This is so stupid," Twelve mutters, whilst immersing himself in festive baking and running about from snowy place to snowy place with you. Ever since he saw that smile on your face, he's been doing his best to keep you enthusiastic about something. Whilst he doesn't think snow is at that cool, your reaction is the cutest thing he sees for a while.

Thirteen absolutely adores snow, too. No matter where you goes, she's happy. But take her somewhere snowy, and she isn't leaving for a long time. She gets distracted by everything and just tries her best to have fun. "Who cares if it's cold, I saw a thing!" Not only does she love the atmosphere, but she also loves your reaction. It makes her whole week.

#first doctor x reader #second doctor x reader #third doctor x reader #fourth doctor x reader #fifth doctor x reader #sixth doctor x reader #Seventh Doctor x reader #ninth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #twelfth doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #snow imagine #headcanons #preferences #fluff

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bibbawrites · 3 years

Text

Margaux’s New Friend - a Single Dad!Charlie short story

THIS IS A PART OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES, YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS HERE

Request: none but @happinessinthedarkesttimes and i started discussing this after the last part of single dad!charlie and i couldn’t help but write it

Word Count: 1281 words

Summary: Set before the Single Dad!Charlie series, at the start of filming when Margaux is only 2, Charlie has one more scene to shoot and all of his usual babysitters on set are gone, so Taylor steps up

Warnings: none

A/N: so i wrote this like last week sometime? and didnt post it cause i didnt want to be annoying, and then forgot about it until today lol and now that my laptop is dead i wont be posting much writing so hopefully you like this one i’m loving writing these little flashback short stories so you’ll probably see more of them eventually, if theres anything in particular you’d like to see in one of them (i have a couple of ideas already) enjoy!

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-magnificent @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @fandomxreaders @ifilwtmfc @yagorlemmalyn

"Taylor, I need a massive favour.” Charlie gasped out, entering the room in a rush, his daughter in his arms. Taylor looked up from the piece of paper where he was studying the chords for Now or Never.

“Yeah what’s up?” He questioned.

“Can you look after Margaux for like 20 minutes? I’ve got one more scene to shoot and Tori and Sav are already gone.” Charlie said quickly, and Taylor nodded.

“Of course man, no problems.” He agreed, and Charlie gave him a thankful smile, placing Margaux down on the ground in front of Taylor and kissing the top of her head.

“She’s gonna cry, just distract her. Good luck. Bye baby!” Charlie called as he rushed back out of the room.

Taylor stared down at the two year old, watching as her face fell when she realised her dad had left her behind. He had only met her once before and it wasn’t for very long, and the toddler had just clung to her father the whole time. This was his first time properly interacting with the little girl.

“Hi Margaux, my name is Taylor, do you remember me?” He said softly, crouching down next to the two year old. She ignored him, still staring at the door that Charlie had left through, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Taylor soothed, reaching out to rub her back, not wanting to overstep with the clearly emotional toddler.

“Want Daddy.” She cried. Taylor bit his lip.

“He’ll come back soon.” He tried, but Margaux shook her head.

“Now.” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out.

“He’s busy sweetie, why don’t we go get a snack or something?” Taylor tried. Charlie did say to distract her. Margaux nodded tearily, and Taylor hesitated.

“Can I pick you up?” He asked gently.

Margaux nodded again and Taylor stood back up before leaning down, lifting the tiny blonde toddler into his arms. Her face instantly went to his neck and he flinched slightly at the feeling of her tears and heavy breathing. Distraction time.

“Do you like chocolate cake Margaux? Maybe we should go find some.” He questioned as he pushed the door open. Margaux sniffled.

“I like it.” She mumbled.

“You like it? That’s good, me too!” Taylor said, his tone overly enthusiastic, trying to cheer the two year old up.

Margaux hummed slightly and Taylor paused, listening, trying to figure out what she was singing. When he couldn’t identify the tune he decided to ask.

“What are you singing?” He questioned softly.

“Butterfly.” Margaux answered, sniffling slightly.

“I don’t know that one, can you sing it for me?” Taylor asked, and Margaux shook her head.

“Daddy sing it.” She stated.

“Your Daddy sings it for you?” Taylor checked, and Margaux nodded.

“Yeah.” She said.

Taylor entered the catering tent, spotting the table covered in tea cakes instantly.

“Here we go, do you want a cake?” He asked, heading over to the table.

Margaux nodded slightly, lifting her head out of his neck to look at the table, her eyes red and nose running.

“Which one?” He asked, and Margaux pointed to a chocolate cupcake.

“This one?” Taylor picked it up and she nodded again, taking the cake from him with a mumbled thank you. Grabbing himself a cake too, two juice boxes and a few tissues to wipe her nose and in case of a mess, Taylor carried the toddler back out of the tent, knowing exactly where to take her.

“We’re gonna go for a walk, okay?” He told her.

“Okay.” Margaux replied simply.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Taylor asked, trying to keep the toddler from thinking about her dad. Margaux squinted.

“Purple.” She decided after a moment.

“I love purple too.” Taylor agreed.

“And pink and blue.” Margaux added, and Taylor smiled to himself at the added interaction. He might be getting through to her.

“Very pretty colours.” He said. Margaux nodded.

“What ice cream?” Margaux mumbled.

“What’s my favourite ice cream?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah.” She replied.

“Tiger tail, do you know what that is?” He told her and she shook her head.

“No.” She said.

“It’s black liquorice and orange flavour.” He explained, and Margaux gave him a blank look. Taylor chuckled to himself.

“I like chocolate ice cream as well.” He said, and her eyes lit up.

“I like chocolate and strawberry and rainbow.” She smiled, and Taylor mentally cheered that she seemed to finally be coming around to him.

“Those are some very good flavours.” He agreed. He stopped at a bench that overlooked the main road outside the studio, sitting down on the chair and shifting Margaux onto the seat. She wriggled, moving herself so that she was sat in his lap, and Taylor smiled.

“Can I wipe your nose?” He asked, and Margaux stayed still in response, allowing him to wipe her damp cheeks and nose.

“Much better.” He said once he was done and she smiled up at him, a smile that made her look almost identical to her father. “Do you want some juice?”

“Yes please.” She said, taking a juice box from him and sipping on it instantly.

Taylor started to eat his cake, and when Margaux was finished hers he offered her the remainder of his, which she ate happily.

Taylor’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, seeing that it was a message from Charlie saying that he was done already.

Taylor texted back that he would meet him where Charlie left them, and moved to lift Margaux back up again.

“Where we going?” She asked as Taylor threw their rubbish into the bin.

“Your Daddy is done now so we’re going back to him.” He said.

“Daddy?” She exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. Taylor nodded and Margaux squealed with excitement, as if she had been separated from Charlie for days and not around 20 minutes.

They walked back in mostly silence, Margaux squirming out of his arms to run over to Charlie when she spotted him, and the young father lifted her up, kissing her head gently.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, just as Taylor made it over to them.

Margaux nodded.

“We got cake!” She grinned. Charlie fake gasped and Margaux giggled.

“You got cake without me?” He asked, pretending to be upset. Margaux laughed harder.

“Yeah!” She exclaimed, and Taylor couldn’t help but smile at the interaction.

Charlie turned his attention to Taylor, smiling at the older boy.

“Was she good?” He asked. Taylor nodded.

“She cried a lot but once we got cake and juice she was fine. We had a good chat and watched some cars and then we came back.” He told him. Charlie gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, she’s not the easiest to leave. Her whole life it’s just been me and her so she doesn’t really cope well with me leaving her. We’re working on it and she’s actually gotten a lot better, if you can believe that.” He explained.

“Well she did good today. Actually, she was singing herself a song, if that’s important at all. I asked her what it was and she just said butterfly, and that you sing it.” Taylor said.

Charlie nodded in understanding, clearly knowing what song Margaux had been singing.

“It’s the butterfly fly away song from the Hannah Montana movie. I sing it to her when she gets too worked up. I’ve never heard her try to sing it herself before so that’s a new one.” He glanced at the toddler, who was already falling asleep in his embrace. “Anyways we should go, Owen’s waiting. Thanks again Taylor.”

“Anytime.” Taylor nodded.

And he meant it.

#single dad!charlie #single dad!charlie series #taylor kare #margaux #short story

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

“Cuts!” (Dad!Shawn)

A/N: Well…After mobile decided to just do away with this whole fic…Here it is! Again!! Woot! Gotta love google docs though! Also! Thank you, thank you THANK YOU for all your kind words with Chameleon! It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, so your kind word have made me 🥺

But I figured some fluff is in need after it soooo…Here’s some Dad!Shawn🥳

Summary: Your kid runs on stage in the midst of Shawn performing

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: absolutely none😌

WC: 3.1K // Fluff

You’d never forget the feeling the first time Shawn asked you to watch one of his shows side stage. You were just nineteen, hopelessly enamored with the boy who played guitar, that looked back at you after every song. And to reassure him, you always gave him a thumbs up.

And you’d never forget the day where you first watched a show with his family and friends. You were twenty-one, not knowing how it took you this long to watch a show with his family and friends, but then again, a relationship between an international pop-star and a university student was a bit challenging. You sang with his mom, kept your voice low as you talked with his dad about how proud both of you were of him, and held Aaliyah’s hand as the two of you danced around.

Then later on in your relationship, you eventually invited your friends and family to see Shawn perform. And soon after that, it was both of your families watching Shawn from the side stage. And even after years of watching him, he still looked back at you after every song, and you still gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

And now with being married to Shawn…It was time to take your son––Jake––to his father’s shows and watch from the side stage.

It was a very hot and muggy summer night as Shawn played an amphitheater somewhere in the United States. While you and Shawn wanted to have your kid live a normal life as much as possible, that meant not traveling around with Shawn for the entirety of tour. Jake was five and had his own little world of sports, making friends, and summer camps in Toronto.

You always thought standing side stage was the best view. With the crew members rushing by, Cez off to the side mumbling into his headset, and Andrew typing on his phone while glancing up every once in a while…It made you feel like you were nineteen again.

Caught up in your own nostalgia of when you first dated Shawn, you almost didn’t feel the tug on your shorts.

Looking down, you smiled at your son who was an exact replica of his dad with his straight brown hair––that you knew would curl as he got older––and a smile that you would do anything for.

You bent down to his height and smiled, “Yeah?”

“Hungry!” He shouted at you while pointing to his stomach. With the protective headphones you and Shawn made him wear, he was compensating for not being able to hear his voice loud enough, which made you chuckle.

You nodded your head, placed your hands on your knees before standing up, and reached a hand out for him to take. He gripped his little hand around yours and you felt your heart swell up because how on earth did you and Shawn make an absolute perfect person.

Walking back to the dressing room for the snacks, Jake would either enthusiastically high-five or fist bump every crew member he saw. The smile on his face when they reciprocated his high-five made your heart swell even more. Jake was just like your husband in that sense, always loving the attention he got from people.

Once you made it to Shawn’s dressing room, Jake pointed at his protective headphones, “Mommy! Can I take these off!”

With a soft laugh, you nodded your head as you walked over, taking them off for him. Once his headphones were off, he made a dash to the table in the back.

It warmed your heart to see animal crackers and fruit snacks on the table with juice boxes in the mini-fridge. Whenever Shawn knew you and Jake were coming out to see him on the road, he always added Jake’s favorite snacks to his rider so that they would be in his dressing before they arrived.

The first time Shawn did it melted your heart, and he continued to have Jake’s favorite snacks on demand. Sometimes he would even request some rice krispy treats or chocolate brownies. That would earn him a glare from you, but he always said he wanted to give his son something special when he came and visited his dad.

And then the eye roll you gave your husband would always turn into soft eyes.

“Jake,” You said his name, and he looked up at you with wide eyes, as he stuck his whole hand into his mouth to put one snack in his mouth, “We don’t want to miss the show, come on.”

He nodded his head and grabbed a red box of animal crackers as he scurried over to you, “Is daddy done soon?”

You nodded your head, “He’ll be done in a little bit,” you said as you made sure his protective headphones were snug in place on his head.

“Can I sleep in the tiny bed on daddy’s bus again!” Jake was now back to his yelling, “It’s like a fort!”

Before you left the room, you picked him up so you could walk to the stage faster, and answered his question, raising your voice just a tad so he could hear you, “We might be in a hotel tonight, but you can ask him.”

“Okay!” He yelled in your face.

Once you were back in your designated spot on the side stage, Jake pointed up at Cez’s large headset that he used to communicate with the rest of the crew, “Uncle C has phones just like me!”

Just barely hearing the comment, Cez turned around, offered your son a fist bump and smirked at Andrew, “I think I’m the favorite uncle.”

You didn’t hear the rest of their bickering, as you moved a bit closer to the edge of the back stage, still behind the curtain, wanting to get the best view of your husband. Setting Jake down on the ground, he instantly plopped down as he shouted, “Criss-cross applesauce!” before sitting down in that exact position.

“Mommy!” Jake looked up at you with wide eyes as he yelled up at you.

You bent down, setting the plate you brought from the dressing room on the ground, as you opened up the box animal crackers, “Yes, sweetie?”

“Can daddy have applesauce in the next room?!”

And like when he asked you about sleeping in one of the tour bunks, you said, “If you ask him nicely, maybe he’ll get it.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead as you dumped out the animal crackers on the plate.

A song had just finished, and like every time since you were nineteen, Shawn looked back at you, but the only difference was now he also looked at your son. You threw both of your thumbs up, and when you looked down at your son, he was playing with the giraffe and elephant, making animal noises.

With a shrug and a roll of your eyes, you blew Shawn an overdramatic kiss and he laughed.

Shawn was in the midst of giving an introductory speech to one of his songs when you heard the unmistakable mommy shout from your son.

Like routine; you bent down, hands on your knees, and smiled at your son, “Yeah?”

He took a sip of his juice box, sipping up all the contents until his cheeks were hollow and a slurping sound was made, signaling an empty drink. He set the justice box down and let out an ah, “Is it hard to do what Daddy does?”

You ran your fingers through his hair, “You have to be good in front of a lot of people.”

“Like…” Jake looked down and started counting on his hands, eyes growing wide as he shoved all ten of his fingers in your face, “Ten people?!”

You threw your head back in laughter, but then controlled yourself when you saw your son’s eyes wide with worry, “A lot more than ten,” you smiled, “There’s a lot a lot of people out there watching daddy now.”

“A lot…” His voice trailed off, not truly understanding the figurative concept of a lot of people. He was silent as he stared at Shawn, strumming his guitar and singing into the microphone, before looking back at you, “I think I wanna do what daddy does.”

You always thought that you were prepared to answer any one of Jake’s outrageous questions or statements. You’d gotten questions about why tigers had stripes, why was the sky the same color as the pool water, and even the dreaded––where do I come from, mommy––question. Never had you once entertained the idea of Jake wanting to be a performer.

You let out a nervous laugh because there was a lot more to Shawn’s job than just singing in front of people. And it was way too complicated to explain to your son now. So you went with a simple skill that was needed to be a performer, “You have to be able to play an instrument.”

“Like the pino daddy plays at home?”

Another genuine laugh escaped your lips, but your son was all serious as he looked straight into your eyes. You cleared your throat before answering him, “It’s pronounced piano,” you softly corrected him, “And yeah…Something like that. Or play the guitar––like the one daddy is playing now,” Jake’s head whipped around to see his father, “Just talk to him about it and I’m sure he’ll teach you.”

“Okay,” Jake nodded his head as he went back to eating his animal crackers, “I wanna be like daddy.”

Your heart melted at how determined he sounded. Most little kids wanted to be like their parents when they grew up. And hearing Jake say those words gave you an indication that you and Shawn were doing something right with parenting.

But what happened next caught you off guard.

One second Jake was sitting next to you, playing with his animal cracker, and then the next second…He’s up and running towards Shawn on stage. You tried yelling out for your son to come back, but he couldn’t hear you with his protective headphones on.

You looked at Cez with wild eyes and he nodded his head, saying something into his headset along the lines of––Shawn, you got a visitor––and you saw Shawn’s posture straighten up as he stopped singing into the microphone.

Both you and Shawn were caught off guard by the intensified shrieks of the crowd when your son came into view on stage. Shawn would occasionally post about his son on social media, but the two of you agreed it would be best to keep him off for the most part.

It didn’t take long for Shawn to look back at you to notice that his son was missing because he saw Jake running across the stage.

Shawn took the microphone off the stand and nervously laughed into it, “Just a second, guys.”

When Jake finally reached his dad, Shawn gently slung the guitar so it was resting on his back and bent down, “What’s up, bud?” While he wasn’t purposefully speaking into the microphone, the machine still picked up his voice and broadcasted it to the audience, “Mommy’s over there on the side.”

There was a mix of screams and aw’s from the audience as Shawn pointed toward you. But Jake shook his head. He took after his father in being stubborn, although Shawn was convinced that he got the stubbornness from you.

Like his father, Jake wanted to be the center of attention.

Jake grabbed the microphone out of his hands, which caused both your eyes and Shawn’s eyes to widen in surprise, as he spoke rather loudly into the microphone, not knowing that he could just speak in his regular voice.

“I wanna be like you, daddy!” Shawn’s face lit up with a smile as he tilted his head back in laughter, “I wanna––I wanna sing and play pino and gitar––”

You didn’t think the screams could get any louder, but you were highly mistaken. While you would’ve gladly gone out on stage to carry your son off of it, you were quite the opposite of your husband and Jake when it came to attention.

Shawn placed a hand on his son’s shoulders, a prideful smile on his face, “You want to sing?”

Jake nodded his head as he gripped onto the microphone with two hands, “Mommy said––Mommy said,” he mumbled with his mouth directly on top of the microphone, “That I–That I need to talk to you, and play the pino, and and…”

Jake looked over off to the side at you, and you could see that he was getting shy in front of everyone with how his hold around the microphone tightened up and how he tucked his chin down into his chest. Your heart melted, and just like how you would encourage your husband, you gave your son two thumbs up.

And it seemed like that was what he needed before he went on, “And she said I––Mommy said I need to be good in front of a lot of people.” He looked at Shawn with wide eyes as he whispered into the microphone, “More than ten.”

Shawn let out another loud laugh as you heard the audience laugh along with him as well.

“Being in front of more than ten people is a good start,” Shawn controlled his laughter and looked behind his son’s shoulder and sent a small smile your way, “Mommy said some good things.”

“So can I sing?”

Shawn reached his hand out for the microphone and Jake gave it to his father. He stood up, taking Jake’s small hand in his and spoke into the microphone as they walked to the center of the stage, “Can we get a chair? Like a stool if there’s one backstage?” He was looking backstage at Cez who was mumbling into his headpiece, “And another microphone, please?”

You let out a soft laugh as you heard the audience’s screams grew louder.

In no time, Shawn’s request for a stool and an extra microphone was granted. Someone in all black ran out a stool and handed a microphone to Shawn. They rushed off stage, but not before your son yelled out an enthusiastic thank you!

Shawn placed his hands under Jake’s arms, lifting him up to sit on the stool, and in your head you could hear Shawn saying “up you go” like everytime he lifted Jake onto something.

Once Shawn made sure Jake was all settled on the stool with his microphone, he brought his guitar back around and started to slightly strum it, “What do you want to sing?”

There was a loud muffled hm into the microphone as Jake thought, but once he thought of what he wanted to sing, his eyes brightened as he looked up at his dad, “Cuts!”

You let a laugh out at the same time as Shawn. His eyes immediately found yours backstage and he shook his head in amusement before looking down back at your son, “We’ll sing cuts.”

Shawn then turned to the audience, letting out a few more laughs, “Okay, just a little backstory here,” you rolled your eyes knowing exactly what was to come, “The first time I was really away for an extended period of time from this little man,” Shawn ruffled Jake’s hair, “Y/n would play my songs around the house.”

You let out a chuckle at the bittersweet memory. Because the first time Shawn was really away from home when you had Jake was hard. When Jake was born, Shawn did radio tours and a few spurts of shows here and there, because he didn’t want to miss Jake growing up. But when Jake was three, Shawn had to get back on the road to tour. It was hard––for both of you––but you made up for it by playing Shawn’s music everywhere.

“So when I came back home,” Shawn briefly made eye contact with you and you gave him two thumbs up. He turned back to the crowd with an infectious smile on his face, “Jake ran to the front door and kept asking me to sing cuts for him.”

“And I was thinking to myself; do I not know one of my songs?” He let out a small laugh, “So a few minutes later Y/n comes down and tells me what song he’s referring to.” He stopped talking to take a dramatic pause before softly laughing again, “Apparently Jake kept asking what stitches were.”

And in reference to the song that sent Shawn into mainstream pop, the audience erupted in ear shattering screams.

“And Y/n told me that she told him that stitches helped heal really bad cuts,” he said as he looked down at his son with a beaming smile. Jake was looking up at his dad with a nervous smile, but his eyes wide with admiration for his dad.

Shawn started strumming the opening chords softly as he leaned into his microphone, eyes not leaving his son, “So here’s Stitches, also known as…” he let his words trail off as Jake finished his sentence.

“Cuts!” Jake shouted into the microphone with a little giggle following.

“You’ll sing the first part?” Shawn asked your son who nodded his head eagerly.

At five-years-old, of course your son was singing off key, but it only made the moment more endearing. And if you were being honest with yourself, you preferred this version to the one Shawn recorded when he was fifteen.

You didn’t want to miss this moment, and while you were sure you could find a whole clip of Shawn’s monologue on YouTube or Instagram later, you wanted to have a piece of it from the side stage. And you were sure Karen and your mother would want to see the video right away.

While there were times Jake mumbled into the microphone, trying to cover up not fully knowing some of the lyrics, you could feel yourself getting choked up at the moment.

When the chorus came around, Shawn leaned into the microphone to sing, but he never took his eyes off his son. Jake’s eyes were either trained on the ground, or they looked up at his dad for a split second for some reassurance. And Shawn would nod his head with the biggest smile on his face as he tried to keep singing along.

There was no better feeling in the world than supporting your child, and you never felt more proud of raising a child with Shawn as you did in this moment. Jake was only five, he had his whole life ahead of him, but you knew that you and Shawn would support him in whatever he wanted to do.

And when the two were finished their duet, you swore you never heard a crowd cheer that loud in your entire life.

And just like when you were nineteen, watching your then-boyfriend sing the exact same song, both Shawn and your son turned their heads to the side to look at you.

Wiping a tear from the corner of your eye you gave them both a thumbs up.

tag list (add / remove yourself!): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @now-that-i-saw-u, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @vinylmendes, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @crossedties @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r

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animeangsteng · 2 years

Text

White Chocolate (4/4)

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : White Chocolate (4/4): Ron Weasley

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Warning: None

Golden Trio and Severus Snape confessing before (or during) Christmas’ holidays

*For this I’ll use the gender of their canon love interest (So all female except Hermione’s)

█ █ █ █ █ 100% *Tuning complete*

Ron Weasley (x female reader)

-Hey Ron! How is it going with Y/n?- mocked him Fred.

-Yeah. Is she still, and I quote, “bloody beautiful even when she’s mad”?-

-Quit it! What if she hears?- he replied, trying to silence them.

-Well at least you won’t need to confess anymore-

-In fact, we might even see you two talking, how scandalous!-

-It’s not funny!-

-It kinda is- said Harry joining the conversation before getting dragged away by the McGonagall for god knows what.

-Ah, great!- he sighed.

-Do you want us to confess for you?- the twins asked.

-No way!- he shouted, gaining some glares from the other students.

-Then get things done before leaving for Christmas or we will!-

-Yep. Get it done before stepping in the train or else we’ll take this matter in out capable hands!-

And that was how Ron Weasley was forced to confess his feelings to Y/n even though he was unable to talk to them without stuttering.

Fail, fail and fail again.

He couldn’t thing of any other word to describe his previous tries.

And now he was to tell her in few weeks.

Yeah, well... few weeks that had become few hours due to his procrastinating.

-Are you got going home?- he heard her say as he was going towards the train.

-Huh? Huh.... Yeah! Sure. Yeah.- he answered clumsily.

-Is it a bother if I accompany you?-

-Yes! I mean... no. I mean... Please accompany me!- he answered, wishing to disappear in the floor.

Luckily she didn’t seem to mind and accompanied him chatting a bit.

Once there, as he had just gotten in the compartment, he decided to give it a try and he put shyly his head out of the window: -You know... I... bloody hell why is it so hard?-.

Y/n just listened carefully to him.

-Yeah?-

-Listen I...-

-He’s in love with you!- interrupted him cheerfully one of the twins, siding him with a grin.

-And he’d like to know if you can exchange letters during this holidays!- the other continued, making Ron die in embarrassment.

-Or, - Fred continued -You can visit us anytime!-

-Yeah! Mom AND especially him would be enthusiastic to have you!- George concluded.

With a smile, and laughing a bit at their shenanigans, she replied: -Well... I like him too and, regarding your invitation to join you this Christmas... I’ll hold you to that!-.

As the train departed and the twins exulted Ron smiled at the waving figure of the girl: maybe he wouldn’t nag his twins that much.

Maybe.

#ron weasley #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #white chocolate #animeangsteng #SFW playlist

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themagicmistress · 3 years

Text

He finds her in a back alley dumpster, head down, fur matted in ugly, spotted clumps that speak of long, hungry months and too few meals.

When Magnus fishes out a piece of jerky from his front pocket, she doesn’t even growl at him. Instead, her tail wags lightly, shifting the dust around behind her.

“Hey, buddy,” he mutters, approaching slow. “What’re you doing all alone out here?”

There’s a flash of tooth that has him retracting his fingers, and the jerky is scarfed down as she tears into it, messy. Her muzzle is grey, he notes, the fur around her scruff shot through with thin lines of silver. She sniffs after finishing and then growls when he reaches his hand out.

Magnus freezes. “Hey,” he starts, “it’s okay. I’m alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She gives him dubious eyes, pupils big and black, cautious in a way that hurts his soul. “Really,” he promises.

She leans her wet doggy nose forward and sniffs the palm of his hand, leaning her head down and giving him permission to scratch the back of her ears.

Well, he’d always wanted a dog, right? Magnus still wanted a dog, in fact. It’d been ages since he’d gotten to take care of one. Since he’s woken up to paws on his chest, a tail bouncing against his legs. It’d been a long time. Maybe too long.

She doesn’t resist when he picks her up and brings her to the vet either.

The first thing she does when Magnus brings her home is bound across his home. He runs in after her. “Julia!” he calls out, half-laughing despite himself. “I’ve got a surprise! Make sure the studio is closed.” God, he hopes he closed it before leaving.

He rushes into the kitchen to find her with an armful of German Shepherd, hands awkwardly wrapped around fur and a pattern of muddy pawprints up the side of her skirt. Julia turns to him, eyes alight, a delighted little grin dancing across her face. Her fingers are stained with wood polish and the sunlight makes her deep brown skin glow through the kitchen window.

“Is this delightful little lady the surprise?” Julia coos to her, and the dog in her arms licks the side of her face, flat pink tongue leaving a streak of saliva behind. She laughs in bright peals. “Hi, honey, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“You don’t mind?” Magnus edges awkwardly. “Ah, I’m sorry, I know I didn’t ask and this is your home too.” He falters and doesn’t continue. He doesn’t want to bring her back.

Given the mock-offended look she gives him, his girlfriend doesn’t either.

“This cutie? Absolutely not,” Julia clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Mine now. But maybe yours for a couple seconds. Can you take her? My fingers are sticky and I don’t want to get anymore polish in her fur.”

“Oh! Yeah, here,” Magnus helps the no-longer stray to the ground.

He finally manages to tear his eyes away from Julia and sees a row of wooden bows on the kitchen counter, carefully propped up on long planks as to not get any polish on the table. Reality doesn’t quite come crashing down, because the rebellion is an ever-present weight in the back of his mind, but his chest tightens at the reminder.

Their new dog sniffs slightly at his side. “Just trying to bulk up for the final push against Kalen,” Julia says, turning to wash her hands in the sink. “I have about thirty more in the studio. What do you think?”

Magnus plucks one of the strings. It twangs under his fingers. “Jules?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m not sure if everyone’s gonna be able to fire these?” He says unsurely. “I mean, the workmanship is excellent, and they look great, but…”

Julia frowns at them, tapping at one near the end of the counter to check for tackiness before holding it up. Careful, she pulls back the string and her biceps flex as it draws back with ease. Magnus gulps. Her eyes dance, mischievous and knowing as she puts it back down before she draws a breath.

“Yeah,” Julia grimaces at the row of bows, “I see what you mean. I’ll re-string them a bit later. Forget about work for now, did you have a name in mind for her?”

The dog jumps up onto his legs, paws on his pants and Magnus reaches down a fond hand to scratch between her ears. “I was thinking,” he hesitates, “what do you think about ‘Star?’”

It’s not quite right. It doesn’t feel wrong, but it’s just shy of the goalpost, like biting into banana bread without chocolate chips in it: not bad, but weird. Julia still nods, face warming as she looks at the new addition to their home.

“I like it.”

He’ll find them together on their off-days, few and far between, Star curled in Julia’s lap as she takes the time to read one of those detective novels she loves, but never has the chance to look at.

Star will look at her with pleading eyes whenever his girlfriend strays too far to the door, leash dragging after her. Star follows her around the house too, so much that they’ve had to install another, gated door in the entrance to the workshop because she’ll try to wander in if they’ve forgotten to close it behind them. During strategic meetings for the rebellion, Magnus will look around the planning room and Star will be around Julia’s legs because everyone they know is at the meeting too and they can’t leave her home alone.

The revolution is no place for a dog. It’s no place to have a life either, but then, he plans to do something about that.

It’s apparent to both of them who the favourite is. “Who’s the best girl in the whole wide world?” Julia says to Star, a goopy grinning mess on her feet in their bed.

“Love you,” Magnus says: to Star, to Julia. To whatever gave him a home, a better future on the horizon, a family he loves, and a ring with a wooden rose carved on top, tucked away in the second drawer of their bedside table.

She shifts closer to him, a warm weight at his side.

Julia pulls his chin to her and plants a kiss on his lips, warm and soft. Then, she pulls back and Magnus blinks, dazed but happy.

“Say that again,” She tells him, eyebrow quirked. “But this time, don’t make it sound like a goodbye, alright?”

Magnus grins, a little sheepish. “I love you, Jules.”

A pleased grin spreads across her face. “I love you too.”

The week after Governor Kalen goes down, they take some time off to go to the park, toss around a ball. Magnus actually brought five balls, because he keeps throwing them a little too enthusiastically and they go bouncing outside the gates of the park.

“No, girl,” Julia giggles as Star jumps up onto her pants, “bring it back to Magnus, okay? Oh, alright, fine.” She seems to begrudgingly add another stick to her pile.

A guy nearby grumbles about the lack of sticks in the park and Magnus raises his voice. “Hey, Jules? Didja know they’ve been calling me ‘hero of the people?’” Magnus watches him pale and proceed to fuck off with no small amount of petty satisfaction.

“Yeah, babe! I know!”

“Isn’t that a great name!”

“I like ‘Maggie’ better!” Jules yells back and throws a stick. Magnus gets knocked over as a ball of fur collides hard with him and when he manages to push himself up, she’s laughing so hard her hands are wrapped around her stomach and her face is red.

“Just stand there,” Magnus shouts back, grinning too, “see if I care. Our dog loves me more than you and I’m pretty sure she just gave me a concussion!”

Julia throws another stick and they have learned nothing from their mistakes because this time Magnus really does get a concussion.

He finds her across the bridge that once connected to the Craftsmens’ Corridor, snout between her paws, fur coated in dust so thick she looks like a grey dog instead of a brown and black one. Magnus searches for Julia, upturns every outcropping of Raven’s Roost just in case there’s some chance she might have made it out, that she might have survived. Then, he does the same for Kalen, but for very different reasons. When he can’t find either of them, Magnus cries into Star’s fur.

He sets up a camp on the outside of town, just a little tent, something to put a roof over Star’s head. Magnus sleeps with her at his side and he is always cold, with the damp forest grass soaking through the thin layer between him and the ground, the clothes on his back that do nothing to warm his fingers, and each breath calcifying in his lungs like liquid nitrogen. Star becomes the only warm thing about him.

The first day after he sets up camp, Magnus wakes up to find her gone.

“Star?” he calls out, instantly alert. “Star?” Magnus bounds out of the tent, having slept in his clothes, and yells out to the forest. “Star? Girl, are you out there?” He searches, half-blind and panicked, not realizing where his feet are taking him until he’s there.

She’s at the edge of the cliff again, staring hopefully out over the two posts where a bridge once connected to his home. There is no bridge anymore. There’s no Craftsmens’ Corridor and instead there lies the open ocean, stretching in front of him for endless miles.

He walks to her side in a daze, a dream-like state. The horizon’s wrong, he thinks. From Hammer and Tongs, he could see the ocean, breathtaking and unending. Here, the other stone outcroppings lay scattered and empty to his right, marring his fantasy that for just a second, he’s home again.

“C’mon, Star,” Magnus mutters. She doesn’t move or look at him, just staring out over the water. He can’t find it in himself to tear her away, so he doesn’t. They sit there together until the sun goes down.

The next day, he wakes to find Star gone again.

Magnus keeps going there with her, leaving only to find them food. He goes to the cliffside in his dreams until there is no difference between his waking hours and sleeping hours. He always wakes up, disappointed that his wife’s never in them.

Eventually, he has to drag himself away. Star needs food, actual dog food and that takes money.

At first, he leaves her with the Burringters, a family with a little girl that shrieks in delight at the sight of Star. They’re some of the last stragglers on their way out of town.

“Make sure she has her ball when she’s feeling nippy,” Magnus tells Mrs. Burringter and places a ratty green ball in her hand with long tooth marks gouged into its sides. “Sometimes she forgets how much she weighs, so just— be aware. Of that.”

“Of course,” the halfling woman says, hair done up into a high ponytail, belly swelled with many months of pregnancy. “Where’re you looking to find work?”

“Oh, uh, Birchmore.”

She nods. “I think Greg’s got a cousin up there if you needed help finding something to do. He’s got a little business importing leathers.”

Magnus blinks at the bit of unexpected generosity. “I’m good, thanks. Nice of you to offer, but I’m alright by myself for now.”

Mrs. Burrington eyes him and all of a sudden he’s small again, being stared down by his mother and he almost thinks she’s going to lick her finger and wipe off a bit of dust from his cheek. “You know, if you need something, we’re always here.”

“That’s—”

“Not just us,” She puts a hand to her chest. “Anyone from Raven’s Roost, Magnus. Any of us.”

Magnus isn’t sure what to say. He settles for, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

The sun rises and sets on the ocean and the two of them are there to watch it every time. Or, almost every time. Eventually, people leave Raven’s Roost and he can’t leave Star alone by herself so he brings her with him when he needs to find work, to buy food and essentials.

A part of him thinks Star needs to grieve, to take that time before moving on with him. Another knows that isn’t the reason he stays.

She’s all he has left of her.

One day Magnus wakes up and Star hasn’t gone, and there is nothing warm about her presence at all. Her paws are on his chest, eyes closed and he knew she wasn’t a young dog, but somehow he’d still managed to miss the rapidly greying hair of her muzzle, the way she dragged her feet back to the tent.

Or maybe Star hadn’t died of old age. Maybe it had just been a broken heart.

He buries her beside Julia’s empty grave, makes her a wooden marker with simple lettering. She loved and was loved, he scrawls across it and the writing is crooked, far too messy for what she’d deserved, but it’s the best he can do.

The next day, Magnus packs up his bag and his tent, hefts his ax over his shoulder, and leaves the sea behind. A part of him already misses it and still, he knows it’s not the town he misses.

Magnus doesn’t turn back when he leaves Raven’s Roost for the last time.

He knows he’ll see them again.

Link to A03 version here.

#My fic #The Adventure Zone #magnus burnsides #fanfic #the adventure zone: balance #animal death

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thirdhandidiot · 3 years

Text

Yes I’m here to offer domestic dialucibarb. No I havnt gotten any further on the Young Dialuci au. What you gonna do?

This is just 1.9k of unapologetic soft idiots in love

•The three of them are like your typical old married couple, except with wings and horns and oh dear, they’re arguing over who has to get up to make more tea

•Barb and Lucifer lovingly bicker a LOT, much to Diavolo’s amusement. It will be over the most trivial things that neither of them really care about either, they just enjoy trying to one up eachother verbally. Lucifer once threatened to throw Barbatos out a window, absolutely not meaning it, but Barb taunted him, telling him he probably couldn’t even pick him up, he’s so skinny and all he ever does is paper work and there’s no way he’d ever hurt him, never mind have the physical strength required. Lucifer absolutely decides he’s going to take it personally and lunges, picking Barbatos clean off the floor, bridal style, triumphant smirk lighting up his face, only to immediately realise that Barb has wrapped his arms around his neck to make sure he doesn’t fall. They’re both immediately far too flustered to do anything after that, just staring at eachother in shock, remaining there for what feels like hours until Diavolo walks in and coos at them, taking hundreds of pictures whilst the pair get impossibly more red. The image ends up Diavolo’s Home Screen, and don’t be fooled, he treasures all images of his boyfriends, especially together, but this one, he thinks, will always be a favourite

•They’re all sappy in their own ways, but mostly Diavolo, he is shameless. He will talk about ‘his darling boyfriends’ at any given opportunity, and more. Whilst it’s rather sweet to see him so passionate and so happy in love, it gets rather inconvenient in meetings when everyone just wants to go home. The brothers are particularly upset by this as whilst the gossip about Lucifers love life was fun at first, they’re rather bored of hearing how cute Lucifer is he wakes up, and they’re still a little scared of what Barbatos might do if they end up hearing too much. And that’s not all, Dia loves tropey dates that he read about in books and imagined going on with the two of them before they got together, his favourite being picnics, which he adores. He and Barbatos will spend hours in the kitchen preparing a sweet lunch date for Lucifer (by which Barb does all the preparations and Diavolo provides ‘moral support’ in the form of kisses and trying to steal bits of food only to get caught everytime and punished with more kisses- needles to say this is not an effective punishment to persuade him to stop)

•Barbatos relaxes a lot more when he’s off the clock, even having gently bullied Diavolo into making HIM tea, even if it’s not as good, after all, he’s been working all day and he’s tired. When they first got together he always felt guilty asking anything of Diavolo, feeling that it was an imbalance to their dynamic, but he quickly comes to see that Diavolo loves the chance to try to do things for him, even if they aren’t nearly as efficient or well done. Diavolo just wants to look after his boys like they do him and this usually comes in the form of serving them cute biscuits he found and hid until that moment just to see them smile

•Lucifer gets stressed easily and puts up a near flawless front of professionalism and dedication to his work, however Barb has spent decades doing the same and is always the first to tell when Luci needs to take a break. Whilst Barb has strict ‘off the clock‘ hours, Lucifer has tried to bring paper work to bed multiple times, frustrating the other two to no end. Despite that, Lucifer has gotten a lot better at taking care of himself ever since he realised how happy it made his partners, and it’s not like he minds spending more time with them, infact subtly asking lucifer if he wants couch cuddles is the fastest way to get him to leave his work, the man is tired and desperately craves affection, not that he likes to admit it, but they all know

•Barbatos has a strange fondness for human conspiracy documentaries, and Diavolo is prone to believing an awful lot of them. Barb loves to tell Diavolo that they’re real, convincing him that ‘Yes all birds are spies darling, is that not common knowledge?‘ or ‘The human realm has underground lizard people, didn’t you know love? The do all of Earth’s admin work, someone has to‘ This leads to an awful lot of misunderstandings that usually Lucifer clears up. He pretends to be annoyed but when he walks into the front room to see his Barb lying on top of Diavolo, enthusiastically telling him that there’s aliens in Area 51 whilst Diavolo stares back, mouth open in shock, he doesn’t stop them, just presses a kiss to each of their foreheads and goes to make hot chocolates for everyone and brings blankets back with him, making a note of whatever it is that Dia is about to believe so that he can make sure that damage control can be done ahead of time. (He finds it cute when Diavolo tries to tell his brothers about it, Mammon falling hook line and sinker for each one. The others are more sceptical until Diavolo says that Barbatos told him, at which point they just end up confused, surely Barbatos wouldn’t lie to Lord Diavolo? (He would if it was funny))

•When Lucifer moved out, Levi sent him an old console under the guise that it was for Diavolo, who had expressed an interest in learning to play various games. Dia absolutely loves it, and lucifer really is very competitive.. the two of them can be found trying to distract the other whilst playing mariokart, resorting to pushing, biting and even a few instances of manifesting wings to try block the others view of the screen. As soon as one of them has as good as lost they’ll switch to just making the others game as hard as possible. There’s nothing raunchy about the wrestling match that breaks out as a result, Barb has decided it’s a good form of physical therapy for them both and just records them. He has a file of ‚blackmail‘ that they all know he will never use, it’s mostly just a folder of cute but embarrassing pictures and videos of Luci and Diavolo. (Diavolo has Barb send him everything, he loves to watch it back)

•None of them are particularly ‘flamboyant‘ although Diavolos love for human world festivals has landed them at various pride festivals before. Lucifer was mostly confused seeing as sexuality isn’t an issue in the Devildom, neither is ‘polyamory’, a concept he’d never spared much thought to. Diavolo is delighted to see Humans celebrating love and feeds off the positivity (he also gets hit on a lot, but after spending just ten seconds with him it’s obvious he’s already madly in love and that there’s no separating him from the slightly alarmed looking men loitering behind him that he proudly calls his boyfriends). Barbatos is constantly trying not to get lost, it’s busy and he ends up having to hold on to someone at all times. It’s not his fault, he can’t use magic here and there’s no other way to combat the crowds, Lucifer stop smirking he isn’t short it’s just that you’re both bloody giants, Lucifer you’re encouraging Diavolo, p l e a s e. Dia loves it though because it gives him an excuse to cling to his boyfriends all day and people will randomly tell him how lucky he is, he absolutely agrees

•Both Barbatos and Lucifer have threatened Diavolo with bodily harm at some point after they’ve been woken up by one of his stray limbs in the night. The two of them sleep quite comfortably next to eachother, occasionally with an arm or leg over the other, but no matter how Diavolo falls asleep he ends up in a dreadfully confusing position that no one really wants to question. Unfortunately he also tends to gravitate towards the heat of the others too, making them easy targets Diavolo’s heavy limbs. He’s always sure to apologise when he finds out in the morning, even if he finds their grumpy faces quite amusing. He won’t laugh out loud though because one time Barb was so disgruntled when he woke up that he bit the hand that was smothering his face and Diavolo ended up having to have his hand bandaged in the middle of the night. Needless to say that Lucifer was both confused and concerned when he woke up (and a little proud, he’s extra nice to Barbatos all day, who feels a little guilty about it, even if Diavolo was ok)

•Diavolo and Barb will wind lucifer up deliberately, and whilst he is entirely aware what’s happening, he indulges them. Diavolo will convince the brothers to try some kind of scheme that they wouldn’t be able to pull off without him, but makes sure it’s never taken too far, and Barbatos will egg Lucifer on as soon as he finds out about whatever minor inconvenience has befallen him. He won’t admit it, but it makes Lucifer incredibly happy to see his brothers take such a shine to his partners, and whilst he wishes they’d have a little more trust in Barbatos, Barb assures him that he isn’t upset and that it can be used to spook the brothers a little. There will be weekly ‚family meals‘ which always seem a great idea before hand, he somewhat misses living with his brothers after all, but always result in him going home with a headache. He’s grown used to the loving and (mostly) calm presence of his beloved, so seeing his brothers hurling both insults and occasionally food or assorted table wear at eachother, has a tendency to infuriate him. (He hasn’t realised that they act up more when he’s there)

•Dia Is obsessed with matching couples things and is constantly trying to find things for the three of them, but due to lower supply, they end up being so much tackier and non sensical. Barbatos genuinely despises them, but opts to say nothing because of how happy Diavolo is. Lucifer knows this and whilst he isn’t exactly a fan either, he indulges Dia just to tease Barb. (They do all have matching keychains tho, with different charms. Diavolos has a little teacup and a feather, Lucifers has a crown and a cake and Barbatos‘ has a pickle and a peacock. He was the one who got them to make up for all the hideous ideas Diavolo had, and delighted in seeing Diavolos pouty face when he realised what Barb had chosen. He did end up also adding a golden heart tho, somewhat pacifying Diavolo)

•Whilst it’s usually Diavolo who initiates longer cuddles, Barb likes to wrap his arms around his lovers from behind, pressing his forehead into their shoulder blades. He finds is comforting to be so close whilst allowing the other to continue with whatever they were doing before. Before leaving he will stretch to place a kiss on the back of their neck, a silent reminder of his love. Most of the time Barbatos is very quiet, opting to watch, and it’s only when he’s relaxed that he becomes chatty. Both Luci and Dia recognise this and can’t help but feel special whenever Barbatos is particularly talkative, and Barb is grateful that they don’t ask questions and love him for who he is

•Lucifer absolutely initiates the most ‚traditional‘ kisses, he’s proud of his partners and wants everyone to know that they’re his. He’s also a bit of a traditional romanticist when given the chance, leaving bouquets of various flowers, with the meanings for each attached on a handwritten card, a line of poetry and an elaborate signature. If he ever gets given flowers back he melts a little and keeps them on his desk as long as possible, before pressing the best looking ones. He has notebooks just filled with pressed flowers that he treasures. He doesn’t know that Diavolo and Barbatos both know about the notebooks and is convinced he’s slick

•Some nights the three of them will get drunk together and spend hours giggling and pressing kisses to eachothers faces and feeding them fancy chocolates. They half lay half sit on a slightly too small couch that they never replace for a more suitably sized one. Diavolo will slowly reach across to brush Lucifers fringe out of his eyes before gently caressing his face and pulling him in for a long slow kiss that tastes of expensive demonus and the orange sweets that Diavolo keeps on his desk. Barbatos is more than content to sit and watch his two gorgeous boyfriends kiss for a few minutes before they both turn their attention to him and decorate his face with kisses, across his cheeks and forehead, straying down to his chin and up to his eyelids, trying to convey all their love for eachother in adoring looks and heads pressed into necks

@softrealism Thankyou for inspiring me to post xx

#hmmm i really enjoyed writing these #if anyone wants to talk about them please #they are very gorgeous to me #do you ever look at something you wrote and realise damn// wish that was me ;0;#i had to log in on a computer to make this palatable #please acknowledge my sacrifice #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me! lucifer #obey me! diavolo #obey me! barbatos #dialuci #dialucibarb #i am literally fucking exhausted ive been tryna finish off work and its my brothers birthday tomorrow and my best friends in three days.#when the boys ask if you wanna play minecraft with thyem and you say yes cause you miss them and want to give them attention but you are #about five minutes from passing out on the keyboard #and i need to call my family and GOD DAMMIT ITS ANOTHER GRANDMAS BIRTHDAY IN TWO DAYS #this post was the clam before the storm #if im MIA the next few days im not dead im sleeping #34 hours and counting #i cant even remember how to tag #THI #diavolo x lucifer #probably #diavolo x barbatos #diabarb #im making these up please end my misery xx #hhhh that said clam. im not fixing it. ps if u find typos pls scream at me to fix them #im going to sleep goodby

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fangirling-allday · 4 years

Text

It Isn’t That Easy

Pairings- Carrie Wilson x reader

Warnings- a little bit of angst and probably some characters being out of character

Word Count- 2982

Summary- Back when Carrie and the reader used to be friends, they were inseparable. What happens when the reader gets in a fight with Julie? Will they become friends again? Or will they be something more?

A/N- Thanks to @ravensmurdersquash for helping me with Carrie’s drink choice!! Also I really hope you guys liked this, I had so much fun writing it. I’m not the best at writing relationships but I hope this is okay!

- - -

Your relationship with Carrie hasn’t been the greatest. Back when you were kids, you, Carrie, and Julie did everything together. However when Julie and Carrie had their falling out, they both looked to you. You couldn’t just choose like they both expected you too.

“It isn’t that easy, Carrie.” You said one afternoon at her house.

“Why not? You’re just gonna ditch me like Julie did? Wow some friend you are.” Carrie replied, obviously upset.

“Carrie you know it’s not like that, I can’t,”

“No. Just leave, I don’t need you. I don’t need either of you.”

“Carrie,”

“No, leave.” Carrie pointed to the door.

With a scoff, you left, passing Trevor on the way out. “Oh hey y/n, what’s wrong?” But you ignored him and left, not knowing you wouldn’t enter that house for a long time.

Now you were making your way to the gymnasium to help Julie get back into the music program.

“Julie you got this.” You said trying to reassure her.

“Thanks y/n.” Julie didn’t sound convinced but it definitely made her feel better.

Walking into the gym, your heart dropped. Sure you’ve seen Carrie around, but it was different seeing her perform especially when that was something you both wanted to do together.

Julie looked over and laced her hand with yours. Your eyes drifted from Dirty Candy to hers, and she gave you an apologetic smile. She remembers that day when you came from Carrie’s house with tears in your eyes.

Your eyes drifted back to Carrie. She was really good. All of a sudden, time stopped. Carrie’s eyes had connected with yours and it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Carrie felt like the world was collapsing. She had always avoided you during school, but that didn’t always work. However, seeing you while she’s preforming your guys’ dreams felt like a kick to the chest.

When the music stopped, Carrie turned back to the crowd and thanked them, then walked away hoping to shake off that encounter and feeling.

You felt a nudge to your shoulder, and turned to face Julie.

“Hey, you good?” Julie asked concerned. Her eyes drifted to Flynn’s. Flynn noticed your state and wrapped her arm around your shoulders, taking you from Julie.

You just nodded your head, giving Julie a smile that you hoped would convince her. It didn’t but she brushed it off. “You’ll do great Julie.”

“Nows your chance. Go talk to her. See you in music class.” Flynn said, dragging you with her to the bleachers.

Julie started singing, but didn’t seem to be getting any attention. You and Flynn gave her an encouraging smile. Suddenly, three boys appeared on stage with her. You and Flynn gave each other a look. Since when did Julie have a band?

When the song ended the boys disappeared, and the crowd surrounding the stage gasped. Everyone had questions, but you and Flynn didn’t care about that.

Once the crowd dispersed, you and Flynn confronted Julie.

“Wow, you did it.” Flynn said, not as enthusiastic as she would’ve been.

“Yeah, thanks to you both.” Julie replied a smile on her face.

“Since when have you been playing with a hologram band?” You said, not wanting to beat around the bush.

“Oh we’re not a band. I mean they’re a band, a hologram band.” Julie stammered, which definitely didn’t make the pit in your stomach feel better.

“Yeah, we saw. Why have you been keeping those cute boys a secret?”

“There’s a reason, it’s just really crazy.”

“Oh we’re all about crazy, let’s hear it.” You said, trying to pry whatever felt off out of her.

“You see, they’re a band from Sweden. Apparently they aren’t just good at making meatballs.”

Finally, Flynn asked the question. “Jules, are you lying to us?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“How could you lie to us? We’re your best friends, and friends don’t lie to each other.” You said taking steps back until you turned around running out of the gym.

You could hear Flynn behind you and Julie calling out for you both. You didn’t stop, you just kept running and didn’t bother to look back. You didn’t know what to think. Julie just started a band without you, once again a friend didn’t include you. You didn’t plan on making it to any other classes or talking to anyone else as you had tears streaming down your face. That is until you heard someone else call your name.

“Y/n!”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway. Out of all the people that would see if you were alright, Carrie was the last on that list.

You felt a hand fall lightly on your shoulder. With a sigh, you quickly brushed the tears off your face and turned around. You plastered a fake smile on your face.

“Hey Carrie! Long time no see.” You were trying to pass off as cheery, not wanting her to catch on to your facade, however, just like when you were kids she could tell that you were only putting up an act, just like her.

“Are you alright? I saw you run out of the gym with Flynn and Julie behind you. Did something happen?” Her eyes were searching your face, trying to figure out why you would be crying.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just- I don’t want to be late for class.”

You couldn’t meet her gaze, just looking down at your feet, that is until you heard another voice speak up.

“You sure everything’s alright, y/n?” Nick spoke up.

Your eyes lifted from the ground, and looked over Carrie’s shoulder, not daring to even look at Carrie for you fear that might be your undoing.

“Yes, I’m sure. Thanks for the concern, I should head to class.” With that, you turned around again, but just as you started walking away, Carrie spoke quietly again.

“Hey, if you aren’t doing anything after school, maybe you wanna hang out, for old time sakes?”

This time, a real smile spread across your face. You turned around and nodded. “I would love that.”

Carrie’s face lit up. “Oh, great! How about we, um, go to our spot after school.”

“That sounds great.” And with that, you left to your next class, all thoughts of what happened with Julie in the back of your mind and instead replaced with what’s next.

* * *

Once the school bell signaling the end of the day, a smile grew on your face. When you closed your locker, you were surprised to see Julie standing next to you.

"Oh, hey." You weren't quite sure what to say. You were still upset with Julie but you couldn't quite resolve it now.

"Y/n, I'm really sorry. I'll tell you the truth I promise, just come over and I will. I promise." Julie said with pleading eyes.

You sighed. "Julie I already have plans, maybe tomorrow?"

"Oh, um," Julie stammered and looked to the floor. "Yeah tomorrow should work, it's just, I really don't want you mad at me."

"Jules, I'm not mad, I'm just upset. I mean you lied to us."

"I know, I know, and I'm really sorry. I just," Julie trailed off, looking over your shoulder her eyes turned from soft and pleading to cold as ice.

"Hey y/n, you ready!" Carrie said standing next to you.

You nodded, "Yeah, just let me finish talking to Julie."

Carrie took a quick glance at Julie then looked back to you. "Ok, I'll be waiting outside."

As Carrie walked away, Julie scoffed.

"So you're being friends with her now? Just because we had a small fight. Wow, y/n, just wow."

"Hey, that's not the reason. It's just, we used to be best friends, and,"

"And what? You're gonna drop me like she dropped you? So you're picking her over me?"

"Jules, I promise that's not it. I just,"

"No save it. You wanna choose her over me, than do it. But I'm not just going to wait here. You need to decide."

"Jules, it's not that easy."

"No it is. Goodbye." And with that, Julie stormed away.

This can not be happening again.

Collecting yourself, you walked out the front doors and met Carrie.

"Hey, everything good?" She put her hand on your arm.

"Yeah, can we just go?"

"Ok, yeah. Come on."

As you entered the coffee shop, the aroma filled your senses. It smelt just like it did back when you would go with Carrie and Julie every weekend.

As you walked up to the register, the barista smiled at you and asked for your order.

"Hi. Can I have a medium blonde white chocolate mocha and a f/d(favorite drink) please?" As Carrie payed, you gave her a look of disbelief. As you both walked to find a table, deciding on one near the window, you asked her, "You remember my drink order?"

She turned to you, "Of course. I mean we did use to come here every week. It would be hard to not remember."

You gave her a smile and a small laugh.

Silence surrounded you both. Carrie cleared her throat. "Look, I'm sorry for what happened that day. It wasn't fair of me to ask you that, I was just having a difficult time and I didn't process it the best."

"No Carrie, it's okay. I shouldn't have left and never looked back. I know how you are." You gave her a reassuring smile.

Just as she was about to say something, your orders were called. When she brought them back, you both started on your way home. A comfortable silence surrounded you both as you took sips of your drinks. When you got to your house, Carrie stopped you.

"Hey, I'm really glad that we made up."

You gave her a smile. "Me too. I think we should start our tradition again."

She laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Bye."

As you walked up to your house, you noticed how late it had gotten. The sky was turning a dark blue, and you could start to see the shining stars. As you neared your front door, you saw a shadow.

"Julie?"

Her head shot up, and you could see the tears in her eyes. She ran up and gave you a hug.

"Oh my god. I am so sorry, y/n. I never meant to blow up at you like that. I promise that you can be friends with both of us. That is, if you still want to be friends with me."

You took a step back, bringing your hands to rest on her shoulders. Her hands flew on top of yours. "Jules, of course I still want to be your friend. I know that you don't like Carrie. It's just, she used to be our friend and I want that again."

"Thank you, and of course. I totally understand. Um, if it's not too late, I would really like to make it up to you."

You agreed and Julie told you that her band were ghosts that died in 1995 and they somehow can be seen when she plays with them. It was kind f hard to believe, but the next day you saw them play and believed her.

As the weeks went on, you spent more and more time with Carrie. You two were starting to become best friends again, but you couldn't help but notice a weird feeling in your stomach whenever you were around her. You, however, brushed it off and just enjoyed having her in your life again.

One night, you went back to the cafe to see her preform with Dirty Candy. Just before she went on you two were laughing.

"Oh my god! Y/n, stop. I can't breathe!" This just caused you both to laugh even more. When you both finally caught your breath, you took deep breaths in.

"Up next, Dirty Candy!"

You looked to her and notice the small look of panic in her eyes. You laced your fingers with hers.

"Hey, you'll do great."

She gave you a small squeeze and nodded. She let go of your hand and walked onto stage. You looked around and noticed Flynn and Julie, making your way over.

You stopped next to Flynn as you silently said hello, them greeting you back.

As you watched Carrie preform, you tuned out all conversation. Carrie's eyes met yours and she sent you a quick wink before looking back to the crowd. A blush spread across your face.

When the song ended, you cheered the loudest, your cheeks still being dusted pink.

You quickly tuned back into the conversation Julie and Flynn were having, catching the end of it.

"-remember why we hate her so much."

"Hey girls, isn't it past your bedtime?" Carrie said, with fake concern. She gave you a quick smile and her face softened.

"If you're looking for Nick, he's not here."

"That's not why I'm here." Julie said. Yes Julie. Stick up for yourself.

"We have one last performance tonight from Julie and the Fat Ones."

You laughed, covering it up with a cough once Flynn gave you a look.

As Julie walked on stage and Flynn went to "set up" the projector, Carrie stood next to you.

"Hey, thanks for coming. I really appreciate it." Carrie knocked her shoulder with yours.

Turning your gaze off the stage, meeting her eyes you smiled. "Of course. What's a friend for?"

Carrie's face seem to fall, though it might've just been your imagination. You snapped back to reality when you heard clapping and cheers. You quickly adverted your gaze to the stage and clapped for your friend.

Checking your phone you saw the time.

"Oh man, it's late I better go."

"Yeah of course. Thanks again for coming, I'll see you tomorrow."

You gave her a tight hug. Stepping back you waved and made your way home.

The next day you couldn't seem to find Carrie anywhere. When the lunch bell rang, you made it your mission to find her and make sure everything was alright.

Looking around the cafeteria you couldn't seem to find her. But you did find Nick. Thinking that he would be your best option, you made your way through the crowd.

"Hey Nick, have you seen Carrie at all?"

"Oh y/n, hey. Um, I'm pretty sure she said she was sick and was staying home."

Worried flashed through you. "Thanks." And with that you made your way out of the lunch room, and into the parking lot.

You knew that Carrie wouldn't dare risk being caught skipping school by her dad so you figured there was only one place she could be.

The jingling of a bell could be heard all throughout the cafe, Carrie however didn't bother to even look up.

You sat in front of her, not saying anything yet. After a fee moments, you took one of her hands that were around her mocha, and laced it with yours.

“You okay?” You spoke quietly not wanting to startle her or make her anymore upset.

Carrie took in a deep breath. She looked up into your eyes. You could now see that her eyes were filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. She slowly shook her head.

“How ‘bout we go for a walk?”

She let you pull her up and you walked out of the cafe, hand in hand.

As you walked along the busy sidewalks in silence. Once you reached a bench along the path, you dragged her over to sit. Once you sat down, you squeezed her hand and shifted your body to face hers.

“You wanna tell me about it?” You didn’t want to pressure her into anything, but you wanted to make her happy. Seeing her happy made you happy. What she said broke your heart.

“Why can’t I ever be enough?”

Her tears that were building up for how long finally came crashing down.

“Carrie, you are enough. You are more than enough. You amazingly talented, and you care so much about others.” You quickly pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back. “I mean you wanted to make sure I was alright after we weren’t friends for how long. I promise you that you’re enough. Whoever doesn’t think that is crazy.”

After a few minutes, her sobs turned into sniffles and she gently pulled away.

“I don’t know how you do this, this be happy all the time.”

“Trust me, it isn’t that easy, but you make it easier.” You gave her a soft smile.

Carrie looked into your eyes and sighed. She looked away and pulled out of your grasp.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Carrie took a deep breath. “Y/n, I like you. Like, like you like you. Please tell me I didn’t just screw up our friendship again.”

You sat there, not believing what you just heard. But everything made sense.

Carrie turned towards you and was scared that your silence meant something other than what you truly meant.

“Carrie, I wouldn’t call what we have friendship.” Carrie’s eyes widened. “Wait, no. It’s a good thing. I mean- I uh, I like you too. Like, really like you.” You started rambling. You didn’t want to mess this up. “Carrie I like you so much that it’s crazy. I really like you. I promise and I’m really glad that you feel the same,”

Carrie cut you off by pressing her soft lips to yours. The kiss was soft and desperate. She pulled away and laughed. Your eyes stayed closed for a little while longer.

“I’m really glad that you like me too, y/n.”

Your cheeks grew as pink as Carrie’s dance outfits. You slowly opened your eyes. “Can we try that again?”

Carrie smiled and leaned in again.

It may not be easy, but it’s definitely worth it.

- - -

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added)

@shellbeerocks @meangirlsx @walkingonshunshine @discoverablefeelings

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #Carrie Wilson #Julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp imagine #jatp x reader #Carrie Wilson imagine #Carrie Wilson x reader #jatp carrie #jatp carrie imagine #jatp Carrie x reader

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everybodyscupoftea · 3 years

Text

untraditional ugly sweaters

sigma chi jj x reader

in it to win it

(warnings: cursing, drinking, light editing)

“Okay,” you started, dropping your backpack on the floor next to JJ’s bed, “I have an idea for the party.”

“Wait what?” JJ looked up from his laptop, startled to see you standing there.

“Isn’t Sigma Chi doing an ugly sweater party?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Oh shit, yeah we are. Forgot about that.”

You grinned at him and reached down to run a hand through his hair that he’d clearly been messing with judging by how disheveled it was. JJ leaned into it a bit, and smiled up at you, glasses sliding back up his nose where they’d fallen.

“Okay forgetful, you want to hear my plan?”

“Always.”

“So, Drew is the judge right?”

“He is.”

“I was thinking, I have some guys in my group for class that are hockey fans. What if we borrow jerseys and have those on as ugly sweaters?”

JJ hummed, clearly contemplating, “What teams?”

You winced, “You’re going to hate it, but Caps and Rangers.”

“I’m,” he paused, “actually, you know, that could be really funny.”

“You’re in?” you asked excitedly, just to make sure.

“Absolutely.”

And with those words, he pulled you down gently by the front of your shirt to finally kiss him for the first time since you’d walked into the room

JJ stared at the Rangers jersey in the mirror with disdain and sighed loudly, “Should we at least wear something Christmasy, I feel like this is a cop out.”

You capped your lipstick and rolled your eyes, “I literally bought reindeer antlers and a santa hat. You get to pick since it’s your frat’s party.”

“Ladies first,” he argued, crossing his arms.

“Fine.”

Grabbing the antlers, you started adjusting your hair, and JJ walked up behind you, leaning against your back, Santa hat clutched in his hand. When you finished, you reached back and grabbed his chin, shaking his head gently with a laugh, and he pouted, “Help me put it on?”

“Helpless.”

“I’m not,” he complained even as you took the hat out of his hand and started smoothing back his hair to put it on his head.

“Big head,” you added, “the amount of hair doesn’t help either.”

“More hair for you to hold when I-” JJ started, cut off when you clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Nope. It’s Christmas, you’d better not.” He laughed, licking your palm, and you pulled it away in disgust, “Dude!”

“Dude,” he mocked, “you’re the only one who knows exactly where my tongue has been.”

“I- what the fuck has gotten into you tonight?”

“Just feeling the Christmas spirit,” he answered, grinning widely. You took the thermos he’d been drinking out of and took a sip.

“Boozy hot chocolate. Should’ve known.” He grabbed the thermos back to chug the rest and put his arm back around your waist. You snorted, “Sweetheart, exactly how many of those have you had?”

“Two,” he held up three fingers and you raised your eyebrows.

“Okay, so I’ll drive to the party then.”

JJ nodded enthusiastically, “I’m not driving. Wanna keep you safe because you love me most and I can’t lose that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm, and I love you most.”

You couldn’t resist turning your head at the most uncomfortable angle to kiss him. He returned it eagerly, and you kept it short, pulling away before he could get too carried away, and poked his nose gently when he pouted.

“We have to leave soon, J,” you soothed, trying to step out of his arms.

He resisted for a few seconds before letting go with a sigh, hand dropping down to grab yours immediately. You smiled lacing your fingers together and squeezing. JJ grinned, “Let’s go win that contest.”

The ride from your apartment to the frat house was short, JJ blasting Christmas music the entire time. When you tried to turn it down because your ears were ringing, he swatted your hand away, “Don’t murder the Christmas spirit, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but let him have it, arguing with a tipsy JJ was fruitless because he’d forget what the fuck the conversation was about in seconds.

The street was packed when you pulled up, but JJ’s spot was open, so you maneuvered his truck in as best as possible. He nodded, clearly impressed, “You’re getting better at parking.”

Your jaw dropped, “What the fuck? I’ve been better than you at parking since day one.”

He cackled and ruffled your hair before carelessly throwing himself out of the passenger seat. You huffed and fixed it in the rearview mirror before climbing out yourself, pocketing the keys. JJ threw an arm around your shoulder, and the two of you walked in together. Drew was by the door and grimaced when he saw both of you.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, scowl on his face, “you two are the absolute worst. I know nothing I see tonight is going to be worse, may as well take the free fucking dinner now.”

You snorted and elbowed JJ, “Told you it would work.”

“Never doubted you, baby.”

“I hope it burns your skin,” Drew motioned toward your jersey, “you absolute traitor. At least it’s Backstrom and not Ovechkin.”

“I know,” you sighed, “this sucks and I hope no pictures are taken tonight. My dad will kill me.”

Drew’s scowl turned into a smirk and he pulled his phone out. JJ’s arm around you slowed your reaction speed down and he managed to get a picture before you could reach him.

“Fuck. I deserve that a little.”

“You do. Now go get drinks and get out of my sight, both of you.”

Before you could respond, JJ was dragging you away to the kitchen, muttering, “Please god have hot chocolate.”

They did and he cheered, sloppily pouring both him and you a cup. You clinked yours with his and responded, “Bottoms up.”

You found the bottom of the cup quickly, and JJ was all too happy to keep it full. This eventually resulted in him dragging you all over the house where they’d strategically placed mistletoe, with a faux-casual, “Whoops!” every time he bent down to kiss you.

“You don’t need mistletoe as an excuse to kiss me,” you reminded him after the fifth one, “we’re actually dating.”

“It’s festive!” he responded cheerfully, “Now, hush, I think they’re about to announce the winner.”

Sure enough, Drew whistled loudly, calling all attention to him, “Winner was an easy pick. Losers with the fucking hockey jerseys on. Two of the ugliest sweaters I’ve ever seen. Go be happy on your date night you absolute menaces.”

JJ pulled you behind him through the crowd, hand holding your wrist, and took the voucher out of Drew’s hand enthusiastically. He shoved it in his pocket and put his hands on your shoulders, “Smartest girl I ever met.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure.”

He nodded earnestly and tilted your chin up to look you in the eyes, “Seriously. Your brain is elite.”

“I know,” you joked.

Rolling his eyes, JJ sighed, “One day I’ll tell you that and you’ll believe it. Today might not be that day but it’ll come.” You blinked a few times, startled, not aware JJ was quite sober enough to be that sincere. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “Come on, babe, let’s go upstairs.”

for a late day six of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: ugly sweaters

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #sigma chi!jj #frat!jj #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday

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